LITMIR.BIZ

       INTRODUCTION

       Before My Time

      REGARDLESS OF WHAT you have gone through in your life, you can always change it. Your circumstances do not determine who you can become. If you woke up alone tomorrow without any material possessions, you would be left with two things. One: your gifts – that which make you the awesome person that you are; and two: the story you have that has the power to impact thousands of people in your lifetime. I wrote this book to help those who have had to overcome many obstacles in their lifetime and I have given you tools that will help you along in your own journey.

      Driven to Succeed begins with my mom and grandmother, two women who sacrificed so much for myself and my sisters, while raising us alone on a Reservation, surrounded by poverty and sometimes violence. Most of what I will share with you has come from women. This is my mom’s story:

      “Many of us have our very own story to tell, many of us have our own family dynamics. My Mother Emma was a fluent Cree speaker and that is all she spoke to us. She also took part in cultural ceremonies and taught us the importance of our Culture and Traditions. In the end it seemed that she lived her life for her children, grandchildren and her parents. There was hardly a day that went by that she did not visit her late parents. She worked hard to feed and clothe us. She rarely ever had the means of an income. There were no luxuries such as a washer/dryer or a wood heater; water had to be hauled. Everything was manual labor. In time, latter years, we had a fridge, a black and white TV, and a wringer washer. We grew up materialistically poor, but we were rich with togetherness and love from my mother (and grandparents), and also from my father for the short time he was here on earth.

      My Dad was a fluent Plains Cree Speaker and also spoke English. He was a jolly, friendly and kind man who loved to play soccer and played it very well. I recall our family going to our reserve sports grounds, where there were many sporting events. These are good memories for me. In time, however, my Dad became an alcoholic – and it took its toll on him. My Dad used to try to sustain a living for us. He passed away at the early age of 49.

      The last five years of my Mother’s life were hard on her; she used a wheelchair due in part to her diabetes, but she didn’t let it stop her from being a hard worker. She still worked hard and continued to move about each day, even though she wasn’t a healthy woman. She passed away at the age of 79. We were blessed and very lucky to have had our mother as long as she could be here on earth. I loved my mother so much. I had seen how hard she worked to feed and clothe us and suffer and sacrifice for us. I tried to give her dignity by being there for her when she needed me in the latter part of her life.

      My children’s Dad and I did not have a healthy relationship; we argued a lot. It wasn’t as happy as I hoped it would be. The burden of responsibilities and the lack of steady income became overwhelming. I wasn’t employed; I stayed home with my children.

      When he fractured my nose that one year, I thought: he’s mistreated me many times and now he’s going to start hitting me? I don’t think so. That’s when I knew that I had to leave. As difficult as it was, my children were more important to me than trying to keep a husband. I knew things weren’t going to get any better for us. I reported that incident to the authorities; I filed my report; but when court time came a few months later, his story seemed more plausible than mine. This perception influenced the judge’s decision to give him no jail time and only give him a minor fine; for this reason I lived in fear for almost two decades. The system failed me as an Indigenous Women. I decided to leave at an opportune time, when he was away for a weekend.

      We then relocated to Saskatoon; I was thinking I could raise the children there and look for opportunities for myself. We briefly stayed at an Interval House for Women and then transferred to North Battleford, but ultimately ended up moving to my home reserve. We moved in with my (late) Mother, for about six months, and then we moved into a house on the reserve when my cousin relocated.

      And even though my four kids and I lived in a two-bedroom house, it was all we had. That is where I brought up my kids. I was very lucky to have had a mother that was there for us; otherwise I don’t know what would’ve happened. Her support was a great source of strength; her love for her children and grandchildren was enormous.

      I am just so grateful, Ninanaskomon, for everything. I am grateful that my late mother managed to avoid a crucial touchstone that has damaged the lives of so many people raised on reservations, namely attending Residential School. My Father, however, was not as lucky, and did attend Residential School. What is Residential School? Between 1831 and 1996, residential schools operated in Canada through arrangements between the Government of Canada and the church. One common objective defined this period – the assimilation of Aboriginal children. The children that attended experienced every type of abuse and thousands lost their lives.

      It’s been said that: ‘We are all here for a reason.’ It’s just that sometimes it takes some of us a long time to understand and fully realize what that reason is.

      Ninanaskomon

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