They are more or less the same age. They are college students. They live in Quebec. Yet, worlds separate them.
Last week, a group of literature students from Pierre-Marc Lemire, from the Cégep de Saint-Hyacinthe, went to meet the Aboriginal students of David Paulin, who teaches Aboriginal literature at Kiuna College, in the Abenaki community of ‘Odanak, 90 minutes from Montreal.
Founded in 2011, Kiuna College is the only Indigenous post-secondary institution in Quebec. Its entire curriculum is rooted in Aboriginal culture. The literature taught is indigenous, philosophy courses are replaced by courses involving reflections on the territory, resources and the environment, as well as on the function of traditional knowledge in the contemporary world.
First Nations language classes are offered there. The poet Joséphine Bacon, for example, teaches Innu-aimun there. Classes are also offered in French and English. Foreign students are now admitted.
Most of Pierre-Marc Lemire’s students would never have been able to locate Odanak on a map before going there, even though this Abenaki territory is less than an hour’s drive from Saint-Hyacinthe. Before arriving in Kiuna, they visited the community’s Abenaki museum, where they were introduced to the art of basket weaving, a technique long practiced in Odanak.
For Ophélie, a student at Cégep de Saint-Hyacinthe, it’s an opportunity to see the impact of industrialization on ancestral practices. Paula, originally from Colombia, found there practices that had already been crossed in her country of origin.
Imagine if the Government of Canada said “leave your Quebec culture. Stop speaking French, become English and Canadian. It will be much easier that way.”
David Paulin’s students necessarily have a better knowledge of foreign culture. Sarah, although Métis living in Odanak, did not grow up in an Aboriginal cultural setting. “It doesn’t really interest me,” she admits, but if she finds any good sides to it, get started.
Joe, Atikamekw from Manawan, has already made a short film with Wapikoni mobile. For him, who is studying cinema, “Aboriginal art can ensure the sustainability of Aboriginal culture”. David is an Innu originally from Mashteuiatsh. He is interested in social innovation and entrepreneurship, and wishes to establish business bridges between Aboriginals and non-Aboriginals.
Before this meeting, the two groups exchanged, by blog, around the book Friendship! let’s talk together ! led by Laure Morali, where Aboriginals and non-Aboriginals reflect on questions of identity. From the outset, David Paulin captures the question posed by Jean Désy in this book, through his conversation with the Dene artist Nahka Bertrand: “Can we become Aboriginal if we are not not ? »
When the question comes up, David immediately brings up the Indian Act, the federally issued card that determines who has Indian status and who doesn’t. He also evokes the fact that this status has in the past been compromised by marriages between Aboriginals and non-Aboriginals.
David Paulin asks, for the attention of the students of Pierre-Marc Lemire: “Imagine if the Government of Canada said ‘let Quebec culture vote. Stop speaking French, become English and Canadian. It will be much easier that way.” »
An angel passes. Instead, we’re talking about building bridges, getting to know each other and, ultimately, as David put it, “celebrating differences rather than circumventing them”.
Become a parent earlier
In Kiuna, a very high proportion of Aboriginal college students already have one or more children, even if they too are just entering adulthood, explains David Paulin. Many study very far from home. And the residences make it possible to welcome them, with their families. “It requires a lot of resourcefulness from them,” he says. Distance also often involves spending long years away from loved ones, and experiencing boredom.
David Paulin has been teaching literature at Kiuna since the college was founded in 2011. “I learned a lot teaching,” he says. All of his courses are based on Aboriginal literature, with the exception of works related to the contact period, whose Relationships of the Jesuits and the writings of Samuel de Champlain. “Written Aboriginal literature took off in the 1970s,” he says. The teacher also points out that to take its place, indigenous literature had to borrow the language, codes and writing of Euro-descendants.
A plethora of books
However, this literature is in full expansion. “At first it was like falling drops of water. But today, it’s a deluge,” he laughs. We should mention, among other things, the vitality of an Aboriginal bookstore and publishing house like Hannenorak, in Wendake.
This young literature moreover often forces him to assemble himself a critical apparatus in order to teach. This also allows him to regularly invite authors to his classes. “I couldn’t invite Balzac to a talk, for example,” he laughs.
When students from Cégep de Saint-Hyacinthe visit one of the college’s outdoor tents, the clash between cultures seems even greater. Lisa Marie Coocoo gives a workshop on hide tanning. Moose hide is the thickest, she says. It can even be used to protect against the scratches of a bear.
Through the exchanges, the question of identity is never far away.
For Aboriginal people, wrote one student in the exchange blogs, “the forest is a mother who educates her children about the philosophical basics of life.” He sees the Western world of education “like a father scolding his child for doing poorly in school, wanting to achieve mastery in pedagogy or self.” A student also remembers that “in the community of Mashteuiatsh, they offered high school students the opportunity to go into the forest and take a survival workshop, for example.”
And David Paulin recognizes it, the pursuit of post-secondary studies is less valued in Aboriginal communities. “Maybe it’s because of the residential school experience. They are reluctant to send their children to study away from home,” he says.