Up Ghost River by Edmund Metatawabin Read Free Book Online Page A

could tell he thought she was rude. He paused, irritated. She waited. When no one said anything, he scooped me up into his arms so I could smell wood smoke and the scents of fall. He gave me a long hug.
    â€œPlease not yet,” I said. I wanted to cry.
    â€œYou will be fine.”
    â€œDon’t leave me.”
    â€œBe strong, Nkosis.” I wondered when I would next hear Papa calling me “my son.”
    Then he left, and I watched my tears dripping onto the floor. I tried not to make much noise, and the droplets seemed small for the river of sadness that was in me. Tony saw me and looked away.
    A priest in black came out of the office and stood next to the Cree sister.
    â€œStop crying,” said Sister Wesley. “Let’s go.” The other boys and I stood. Then we all went up some stairs and the sound of our footsteps bounced off the hard walls. I thought about how the sounds here were different from the bush. There, you can always hear lots of animals breathing, eating and mating; singing and crying; grunting and bellowing; whereas here were the same noises again and again. Step after step, no talking. At the top, I saw metal beds in rows, and a lot of boys, sitting and standing. There were more children than I could count.
    â€œThisissdalastofdem,” said Sister Wesley to the white man. He pointed to us. “Kipkwayettverywonn.”
    I looked at her, panicked, wondering what she had said. The other boys had been murmuring to each other, but they too froze and stared at her. Then the white man began to speak, with the Cree nun translating.
    â€œWelcome to St. Anne’s Residential School,” he said. “I am Father Gagnon, the bishop for the region, and your principal. This is Sister Wesley. She will translate for me until you understand English. She is your supervisor. She will care for you before and after the school lessons.
    â€œSt. Anne’s is the main girls’ and boys’ school for this region. We take our mission here very seriously. We are here to make you intogood Christians and honourable members of Her Majesty’s Kingdom. This is a learning environment. That means we expect silence at all times. God speaks to those who listen. Now, the first order of business is the numbering system. For that I need you to get in line from shortest to tallest.”
    I was not used to lining up or being ranked, so I walked to the back. She grabbed me from where I had placed myself and roughly pulled me toward the front. “Do you think you are that tall?” she said loudly. “You belong here!” Once we were lined up to her satisfaction, she began speaking.
    â€œWhen I clap twice, it means line up in order of height, just like you are now,” she said. Then she walked the line’s length, counting. I was small for my age, so was number 4 out of 127.
    â€œThese numbers are your new names, so remember them well,” she said. I tried the number out silently in my mouth. It felt flat and far away.
This is unfair
, I thought,
even dogs have real names
.
    â€œMany of you have come from homes where the hygiene standards are, how can I put this, a little lax.” Sister Wesley was translating for Father Gagnon and as she spoke, she suppressed a smile. “Let’s start as we mean to continue. Clean. Everyone take off your clothes. Put them in a pile in the middle of the floor. Then return to the line.”
    We didn’t move. Father Gagnon motioned like he was going to take off Tony’s sweater. “Clothes!” Sister Wesley shouted in Cree. “Off!” I didn’t want to give up my beaded moosehide moccasins—Mama had made them for me—so I picked at the beads until Sister Wesley pulled them from my hands and tossed them in the pile.
    When we were naked, Father Gagnon left the room and Sister Wesley began to walk the length of the line. She shook white powder on our heads and privates if we had hair there. Some of