I don’t know who I am or what I want anymore. When I was little and we lived in the woods, I told my father I would grow up to be a great hunter just like him. After he died, it was Jos, Manie’s husband, who taught me the best place to set a snare, how to make the call of the Canada goose. He always said that to be a good hunter, you had to observe nature, be patient. I dreamed of being as good as Jos.

I was all set until the whites locked me up in that school. Even when I left, I was still full of hope. I was going to learn to hunt, trap and fish. I would paddle down the great rivers, run rapids, make portages with my tent on my back, spend long evenings listening to the elders talk about their brave deeds. I thought my life would quickly get back to normal.

Now I feel trapped all over again.

Ever since I came back to my own people, I’ve been disappointed. It’s not at all the way I imagined. Life is completely different here now. These aren’t the people I knew when I was little. Or maybe I’m only now seeing the way they really are.

When the principal kicked me out of the residential school, he practically spat in my face.

“That’s it, Larivière. Get out of my sight. I know what you’re in for. You’ll end up in jail, a drunk who beats his wife and children, a shame to us all. Go on, if that’s what you want. I know you Indians. You’re good for nothings!”

What if it’s true?

And if I left here? I could go and live somewhere else. But where? The city? I push the idea away, but it keeps coming back, like water that drips over a dam until it ends up carving out a whole river bed.

I know others who just up and left without a word. Napéo, Dominique, John. They never came back. There’s nothing here for them anymore. Some people said too bad for them. Let them fend for themselves. Others said we don’t need them coming back to tell us what to do. We’ve got enough whites around here doing that.

I wonder what Manie would say if I left. She’s tough. I bet she’d stick up for me. But I just don’t know anymore…

And then there’s Pinamen. Beautiful Pinamen. We met at the train that took us all to the residential schools. We only spent a few hours together, but I’ve never forgotten her. It’s like she cast a spell on me, and ever since our paths crossed, my love for her continues to grow. It’s taken root in me, it fills me up.