A Canadian Native Programme

by GLORIA SHEPHARD

...The concept of native children being cared for by native adults is such a natural thing it requires no justification.

When I commented that this seemed to be a good way of encouraging a pride in being Indian, Yvonne Howse replied: "It's not so much a question of pride as of knowing and accepting who you are. When you know who you are you develop a quiet sort of pride, a self-assurance. I can remember not being allowed to speak Cree after the age of four when I was placed in a Catholic convent and for a few years afterwards I didn't really know who I was."

Marie Linklater, a staff member who works with the families of the children in the treatment program, recalls that when she first came into the city from the reservation, all the women were cutting and curling their hair. "It seemed to be the thing to do, so I got my hair cut and permed too. But one day a woman came up to me in the street and started talking in a language I didn't understand. She told me she had thought I was Italian because I looked Italian. So I decided that wasn't for me and I went back to wearing my hair in braids."

Some people might ask why there needs to be a separate program for native children; isn't that a form of segregation? That is a question asked from the point of view of a non-native person. To an Indian person, the concept of native children being cared for by native adults is such a natural thing it requires no justification. A basic concept of the treatment philosophy of the Browndale movement is to provide the children who come into the residential treatment programs with as normal a lifestyle as possible; and what could be more normal for a native child than to live in a native home?

The native child in North America grows up in a society that shows little interest in or respect for the history or way of life of his people. The adults who work with the children in the Browndale Native Program provide strong, positive adult models the children can emulate without forsaking their own culture. The integrated Browndale School has several native teachers who, as well as helping the children with their general education, can teach the native children (and any non-native child who is interested) about the legendary Indian Chiefs and the history of the different Indian tribes.

It's a time for feeding; everyone feeds everyone else.

Every Sunday afternoon, staff and children from all four houses in the Native Program get together with people from the local native community. The children learn how to drum and chant and dance in the traditional way. They also learn beadwork and how to make their own regalia — dresses, jackets, bustles, hair ties and chokers. Staff and children also attend many pow wows together and sometimes they go to drum and chant and dance in some of the isolated reservations where only the older people have ever seen traditional Indian dancing.

"The importance of taking part in pow wows and getting together on Sunday afternoons lies in the closeness and support that comes from dancing together, chanting together, being with each other," says Yvonne Howse. "It is a very supportive thing for all the staff and children in our program to come together and to see people from the native community coming in and joining with us in our activities. It's a time of feeding; everyone feeds one another emotionally. This is especially important for the staff so that they don't feel all alone in what they are doing."

Yvonne emphasizes the importance of bringing the elders and the younger people together. "An important principle in the Indian way of life has always been showing respect for our elders, never ridiculing old people — never ridiculing anyone for that matter. But it is very hard to teach respect in the kind of society we live in today. The elders can teach the children about our traditions and the staff can teach the elders about present-day society; not that they value it, but they should understand the system we live under."

One of the unpleasant realities of present-day Canadian society is the racism that is found in every community and in this Thunder Bay is no exception. Staff report that the children in the program who attend local community schools often come home crying because they have been called "dirty Indian" or "wagon burner". The schools can be approached and attempts made to enlist the co-operation of the teachers in eradicating this type of harassment but there is never enough time to do as much of this kind of work as is needed. The staff talk to the children and explain that racism comes from ignorance and does not affect their worth and value as human beings and that rather than retaliating by calling the white children "honkies", they should just walk away from children who taunt them, but this is a difficult and hurtful situation for any child to handle.

Yvonne's eldest daughter, Leanne, has run into racism in school. One child told her she couldn't be her friend any more because she was Indian. Another time she came home crying because a friend was being teased and called "dirty Indian" by the other children in the school. "I tell them, you quit calling Freddie that, I'm Indian, too, you know!" But the social pressures are there. If Leanne sticks up for Freddie the kids may stop playing with her "and then mum, I'll have no friends". "And I say to her, then those aren't the kind of friends you want, but it isn't easy when you're only nine years old."

Yvonne remembers an incident when Leanne was only three and they were living in a suburban area of Vancouver. Leanne invited one of her playmates home for lunch and was puzzled because he was afrafd to come into the house. "He thinks we have a tomahawk in our house and we'll kill him! Why would he think that mum?" I suggested that it is time some kind of control was instituted over television programs and the old movies shown on television because so many of these show Indians as ignorant savages always attacking white people and always losing. Yvonne Howse agrees. She would like to see the native organizations across North America get together to bring pressure on the government, programmers and television station owners to "get those crazy programs that show Indians yelling and waving hatchets in the air off television".

Yvonne knows from firsthand experience how harmful prejudice can be to a child. At one period in her life, while she was in the convent, she spent hours trying to scrub herself white so that she would fit into the nuns' stereotype of what was acceptable. After she left the convent, she worked on the streets of Winnipeg and Vancouver, trying to help some of the casualties of our racist society; young people who have been made to feel worthless, and who turn to glue sniffing, drinking, drugs and prostitution. With a group of friends she tried to organize a treatment program for these young people but their request for government funding was turned down. "The government usually turns down requests for money from Indian

people who speak out to the government or to other organizations about what is happening to Indian children on the streets. Especially if you have been involved in demonstrations or take-overs and I and most of the people with me have been involved in organizing demonstrations. The feedback we got was that the government considered our group too radical to be trusted with government money. Probably this came from a fear that we would use the money for something other than a program for children. They did not believe that our focus was on doing something for Indian children who represent our future."

It was at this point that Vern Harper, who at that time was vice president of the Metis and Non-Status Indian Association, contacted Yvonne and told her that Browndale was looking for a native person to organize a residential treatment program for emotionally disturbed native children. She flew to Toronto and talked with John Younger* and

*Senior Resource Person at that time, now Director of Residential Treatment.

then flew to Thunder Bay. Doug Hunter, (now the director of the Thunder Bay region of Browndale (Ontario), at that time the assistant director) took Yvonne to visit some of the houses where there were native children and then she met Carol Gibney (the regional director at that time) and they talked for several hours about the possibility of organizing an all-Native treatment program for emotionally disturbed native children.

"I liked Carol right away but there were some questions at the back of my mind about whether Browndale would let me run the program without interference. So I was straight with her. I told her that I thought the only way it would work was if they let me do it. It wouldn't work if someone was coming into the house all the time, saying, no, that isn't the way we do it, we do it this way. Carol assured me that Browndale would let me run the program my way and they would give me all the help I needed to do it." That agreement was the beginning of a relationship between Yvonne Howse and Carol Gibney, based on mutual trust which developed into respect and affection that had a great deal to do with the survival and success of the Native Program during its first crucial years.

During the first year, Yvonne Howse concentrated on learning about treatment. She recalls, "It was one hard year, really tough. Carol Gibney taught me a lot in terms of what you do with children who are emotionally disturbed. I had seen a lot of it through my own experiences but I had a great deal to learn about the Browndale theory of treatment and how it was applied."

By the second year Yvonne was more comfortable with the treatment aspect of the program and was able to focus more on those activities and experiences that would help the children realize their identity as native people. "That is very important because when they come to us most of them have no conception of who they are. I remember during our first year all the staff and children in the Native Program went down to South Dakota to the International Treaty Convention When we registered we had to give our names and tribe. I said "Cree Tribe" and I was expecting the young girl who was with me to say "Objibway" because she is an Objibway child but I heard her saying "French". It was very embarrassing for me because there were many people I had known for years standing nearby and the look on their faces was 'what are you doing with that child?'. This girl had recently come into the Native Program from a middle class white foster home. There had been no recognition of, or encouragement for her to maintain, her identity as an Objibway child in that home or any of the other foster homes she had lived in, or from her social worker who told her she was French because she had a French surname."

The first child who came into the Native Program, Barbara, had told Carol Gibney that she wanted to live with an Indian mother and had started Carol on a search, first for native staff, then for a director who could organize and run an all-Native treatment program. "I think it was that statement of Barbara's that opened Carol's eyes to the fact that regardless of how much you met Barbara's psychological needs, a white person could not give her the depth of relationship that she could get from an Indian adult. But although Barbara knew what she wanted, it took her a good month before she felt she knew us well enough to trust us and b§ honest with her feelings; she's doing really well now."

The next two children who came into the program were two sisters aged 11 and 8. They were from one of the northern reservations and had been placed in a boarding home so that they could attend school. The younger one was deaf and the elder one nearly blind from an eye infection that had been neglected too long. A social worker at St. Joseph's Hospital told Carol Gibney about the two girls and she and Yvonne Howse went to visit them. "As soon as we walked into the room the elder one started crying and the younger one hid under the bed, they were so scared. It was sad. They hadn't seen their parents for three or four weeks and they didn't understand about distances. We were willing to take them into Browndale but we wanted to talk first with their parents. They were up in the northern bush, at their summer camp and we had to rent a skidder to get in there. We didn't have any trouble finding them because the girls told us where they would be. When we arrived they had just started to cook a meal. They didn't know their daughters were in hospital, they thought they were still in school. When we told them they put the fire out, left everything, and came back with us in the plane. The girls stayed with us for about three months and they are doing really well now; one of them is in college." Many of the Indians who live in the more northern parts of Canada still go trapping and because by law the children must attend school they are taken away from their parents during the school year and placed in boarding homes. "They say they try to find Indian homes for them," Yvonne told me, "but I don't know how hard."

Last summer the Native Program held their summer camp about 100 miles north of Thunder Bay. "We had to go in eight miles by water. The first campsite we chose was too exposed and the first night the north wind blew and it was cold and the tents were falling down. Did I ever hear some complaints! Yvonne, this isn't camping, this is surviving! So the next day we got into the boat and we found another site. That night we could hear a wounded bear crying but we had a couple of dogs with us and their barking kept him away. The next day we went to see if we could track it but although we saw blood we didn't find the bear. It was a small camp site, all the tents were close and we had a wonderful time together. We were dancing and drumming. We had a pow wow. We've shared some experiences since, we started this program and we've learned from every one of them."

The atmosphere in the houses is a real family atmosphere as it is in the houses in any part of the Browndale treatment program. Freddie and Ross share a bedroom as is natural for brothers and they have their bedtime at the same time. "We think it is important for staff to help the children relax for half an hour or an hour before bedtime because many of the children are afraid of the dark or afraid to let down their guard and go to sleep. The staff spend time with them, bathing them, getting them ready for bed, reading them a story or just being with them. Mealtimes are important too. We like everyone to sit down and have a meal together. The sharing of food, the closeness, the being together at mealtimes is important for everybody." Yvonne is a strong, supportive person for the staff as well as the children.

Douglas Hunter, director of the other Browndale program in Thunder Bay says he has learned a great deal from the Native Program. "I have been humbled by how much I have learned. The native staff seem to have a natural way of extending themselves on an on-going basis. You see that in other parts of the Browndale program too, but it seems to happen more consistently in the Native Program."

... a warm and loving treatment program for children whose future would otherwise be bleak.

He credits the success of the Native Program to what he calls Yvonne's "stubborn streak". Yvonne demurs; she pauses for a moment, searching for the right word. "Not stubborn, determined." And her determination to find the right way, coupled with the experience and flexibility of the Browndale movement for community treatment founded by John L. Brown, has resulted in a warm and loving treatment program for children whose future would otherwise be bleak, to their families who receive the support and encouragement they need and to the staff who find new pride and self worth in work that is effective and well worth doing."

The majority of the children referred to the Native Program have lost contact with their parents. "We always look for the parents and it isn't hard to find them, everyone knows everyone else in the Indian community. And when we find them they are so pleased to see their children again. For them it has been as though they had two strikes against them. First they are looked down on because they are Indian and then their children are taken away and they feel like two cents because someone else is supposed to be able to care for their children better than they can. To the Indian, the Children's Aid Society is just an organization that takes your children away and you never see them again."

The child welfare legislation and family court system is incomprehensible to native people living in the northern areas. One day, on the train to Mud.River where Yvonne Howse was taking Barbara to see her mother's grave, they met a woman who was holding a court summons that she thought had something to do with her husband going to jail. When Yvonne looked at it she discovered that

it was a summons to appear in court the next day for a hearing on an application that her child be made a crown ward. "I told her, you have to be in court tomorrow because they want to take away your child and you will lose all your rights as a parent. She couldn't understand, as a parent, who could have the power to take away her child. I felt so sad for her. They just send these things out and they don't seem to care whether the persons concerned will understand what they mean and what is involved."

Many of the children referred to the Native Program have been in and out of so many different foster homes it is no wonder they end up disoriented and disturbed. When I visited the Native program, in one of the houses I met two very lively young brothers, Freddie and Ross. Yvonne told me later that these two boys had just turned 6 when they came into the program and they had been in 14 different foster homes. "They had no co-ordination and were totally disoriented when they came to us. They couldn't find their way from the kitchen to the living room and they couldn't tell the difference between me and a chair. Their senses were

dead. Even a two-year old child can sense that fire will burn but these two would go skipping through the campfire if they weren't watched. They had to be carried or hand held at all times.

"We had a really hard time with them for a while because they were so angry. I can remember putting Freddie to bed at camp and staying with him until he seemed to be asleep. We'd be sitting around the campfire and then suddenly we'd hear "fucking bitch, fucking bitch" coming from the tent. And I'd go back into the tent and find him rocking violently back and forth — angry, angry. It took all that summer and a few months longer before either of the boys started calling anyone by their name. Everyone was so proud of them then. Before that everyone had been "mum" or "dad". I can remember the first time Freddie called me 'Yvonne'.

"We started looking for their parents and discovered that Lorraine, one of our teenage girls was their sister. She had been in 20 different foster homes herself. It was the most beautiful thing when we finally tracked down their parents the next summer

and they came and visited us at camp. When we told the boys we had found their parents they didn't understand at first what this meant. They had been through so many foster homes and called so many different people 'mum' and 'dad'. Then one night I was lying in the teepee and they were in the tent close by and I could hear them talking to one another. Freddie was saying, you know what? What? said Ross. That's our real mum and dad. Yeah? said Ross. They're not pretend? No. We have a real mum and dad now.

... a warm and loving treatment program for children whose future would otherwise be bleak.