“They took our sons and daughters so they could ‘educate’ them in the residential schools. They took them against our will, by force and with lies. We were deceived and today, I ask you, what has happened? Our children don’t know how to live like Indians. They no longer speak our language, they don’t recognize us anymore and we don’t know who they are. But they are still our children, our flesh and blood! They are ashamed of their ancestors and they disown us without daring to say it. It saddens me when I see how we have become strangers in our own land. We must do something before it’s too late!”

Then we see the priest walking along the shore. Basile shuts up, pulls on his pipe and goes back to repairing his fish nets.

“Kwe! Kwe!” shouts the missionary, holding out his hand.

“Kwe!” the men reply. They take turns shaking his hand.

“Hard at work, I see,” says the priest, trying to be cheerful.

For a few minutes they all talk about one thing or another, in that flat voice you use when you’re trying to kill time. Finally the priest decides the moment is right. He announces that officials from the Ministry of Indian Affairs, representatives of the government, will be coming this evening to meet with everyone. The meeting will take place in the chapel after mass. It’s important, so he wants everyone to be there.

The men nod. They’ll be there. Maybe they’ll finally get some answers to their questions.

• • •

The chapel is packed. Even the aisles are full. The women and girls sit on the left; the men and boys on the right. The first to arrive take the benches and choir stalls. The others crowd around the big open windows outside. You can only see their heads.

All the women are wearing long flowered dresses, checked shawls, their usual black berets with the Hudson’s Bay Company insignia, and moccasins. The men are wearing moccasins and baggy trousers held up by wide white suspenders that cross at the back. Their flannel shirts are buttoned at the neck and wrists. Their bashed-up felt hats look like the kettles we use to boil tea. Mostly their faces are very tanned and lined like the bark of an old cedar.

Mass is spoken in Algonquin and it goes on forever. Finally Father Laframboise blesses the congregation and leaves through the little door behind the altar. When he comes back a few minutes later, he has taken off his white and gold cassock. He’s accompanied by officials from the ministry.