Our Story: Aboriginal Voices on Canada's Past (22 page)

Sure, I says, we got lots of room.

So Coyote gets all of the Enemy Aliens out of the truck, and I call my friend Napioa and my friend Billy Frank. Ho, I tell my friends, we got guests.

OK, my friend Napioa and my friend Billy Frank tell me. We'll call the rest of the People. Maybe we'll eat some food. Maybe we'll drink some tea. Maybe we'll sing a welcoming song.

A party? says Coyote. I love parties!

But you know what? Some of those Enemy Aliens look pretty sad. Some of those Enemy Aliens look pretty scared. And some of those Enemy Aliens with the targets on their backs look pretty angry.

Boy, I tell Coyote, those Enemy Aliens don't look too happy.

And after everything I've done for them, says Coyote. And just as that Coyote says this, a big car comes along.

Ho, I says, that is one important-looking car.

Yes, I am, says that important-looking car.

Did you come for the Enemy Alien party? I ask that important-looking car.

No, says that important-looking car, I am looking for Coyote.

Did I get a promotion? says that Coyote. And that one polishes his teeth with his tongue.

Get in, says that important-looking car. We got some secret stuff to talk about.

So Coyote gets in that important-looking car, and I go find the food, and now some of the Enemy Aliens are feeling a little better.

You know, that Billy Frank tells me, this story about the Enemy Aliens have their property taken away by Coyote and the Whitemen and get moved from their homes to someplace else reminds me of another story.

Yes, I tell Billy Frank, me, too.

You remember how that story goes, says Billy Frank.

No, I says, but maybe if we think about it, that story will come back.

So we eat some food, and we drink some tea, and Billy Frank and Napioa warm up that drum, and we have a couple of songs.

So pretty soon, that Coyote gets out of that important-looking car. And those RCMPs get out of that important-looking car. And those politician guys get out of that important-looking car, singing O Canada. But they don't sing so good.

Holy, says Billy Frank. We're going to have to get more food.

Okay, says Coyote, all the Enemy Aliens back in the truck!

Let's not be hasty, I tell Coyote. The party is just starting.

No time to party with Enemy Aliens, says Coyote. I got a new job.

Another job? Boy, that Coyote is one busy Coyote.

What is your new job? I ask Coyote.

I got to take the Enemy Aliens to their new homes, says Coyote.

They can stay here, I says. We got lots of room.

Oh, no, says Coyote, that would be too dangerous. We got to take the Enemy Aliens who look sad and the Enemy Aliens who look scared to that Sugar Beet Farms. We going to give them jobs.

OK, I says, working on the Sugar Beet Farms is pretty good money.

We're not going to pay them, says Coyote. Those Enemy Aliens have to work for free, so they can show us that they are loyal citizens.

Boy, I tell Billy Frank, those citizenship tests are tough.

What's a citizen? says Billy Frank.

What about those Enemy Aliens with the targets painted on their back, who look pretty angry?

Oh, says Coyote, those are the Dangerous Enemy Aliens. Those Dangerous Enemy Aliens are going to Angler, Ontario.

Holy, I says, those Enemy Aliens must be real dangerous have to go to Ontario. Have any of the Enemy Aliens caused any troubles?

Not yet, says Coyote, but you can't be too careful.

So that Coyote goes to the centre of the party and stands by the drum, and that one holds up his hands.

Okay, says Coyote, all the Enemy Aliens back in the truck.

But you know what? Nobody gets in the truck.

Maybe they didn't hear me, says Coyote. And this time he says it really loud. All the Enemy Aliens back in the truck!

But nobody gets in the truck.

OK, says Coyote, we going to have to do this the hard way. And Coyote and the RCMPs grab Billy Frank.

Enemy Alien, says that Coyote and those RCMPs.

Silly Coyote, I says, that's not an Enemy Alien. That's Billy Frank.

Are you sure, says Coyote. He certainly looks like an Enemy Alien.

I'm Billy Frank, says Billy Frank.

So that Coyote and the RCMPs grab another Enemy Alien.

No, I says, that's not an Enemy Alien, either. That's my friend Napioa.

Nonsense, says Coyote, I know an Enemy Alien when I see one, and Coyote and the RCMPs grab everyone they see. Those politicians stand behind that important-looking car singing O Canada and waving flags.

Enemy Alien.

No, I says, that's Leroy Jumping Bull's cousin Cecil. Enemy Alien.

No, I says, that's Martha Redcrow. She's married to Cecil Jumping Bull's nephew, Wilfred.

I wouldn't stand too close to this story if I were you. Coyote and the RCMPs might grab you. Yes, I'd sit in the corner where those ones can't see you.

Enemy Alien.

No, I says, that's Maurice Moses. He's Leroy Jumping Bull's grandson. Leroy's daughter Celeste had twins.

Enemy Alien.

No, I says, that's Arnold Standing Horse. He takes those tourists into those mountains go hunting.

That silly Coyote even grabs me.

Hey, I says, let me go.

Oops, says Coyote, oops.

You got to stop grabbing everybody, I says.

But Coyote and the RCMPs don't do that. And pretty soon that Coyote has that pretty good truck filled with Enemy Aliens, and that one has that pretty good truck filled with Indians.

I have more Enemy Aliens than when I started, says Coyote. I must be better than I thought.

You got to keep the Indians and the Enemy Aliens straight, I tell Coyote. Otherwise you're going to mess up this story.

And just then the RCMPs grab that Coyote.

Enemy Alien.

No, no, says Coyote. I'm Coyote.

Enemy Alien, shout those RCMPs. O Canada, sing those politicians. And everybody drives off in that important-looking car and Coyote's pretty good truck says “Okada General Store” on the door.

And I don't see that Coyote again.

So that Coyote comes by my place. My good place by the river.

Yes, this is still the same story. Yes, that Coyote has been gone a while, but now that one is coming back. Sure, I know where Coyote and the Indians and the Enemy Aliens go. No, they don't go to Florida to play that golf, wrestle that alligator. No, they don't go on that cruise to those islands, everybody sits in the sun and drinks out of big nuts. No, they don't give those Enemy Aliens back their Enemy Alien property either.

Hello, says that Coyote. Maybe you have some tea. Maybe you have some food. Maybe you have a newspaper for me to read.

Sure, I says. Sit down. Where's that pretty good truck says “Okada General Store” on the door?

The Whitemen took my pretty good truck, says Coyote. And they took all my Enemy Alien Property. And they took all my Enemy Aliens.

Holy, I says, those Whitemen like to take everything.

Yes, says Coyote, that's true. And that one drinks my tea. And that one eats my food. And that one reads my newspaper.

Hooray, says that Coyote. I have found another job.

Boy, I says, it is dangerous to read newspapers.

This job is better than the other one, says Coyote.

You going to round up more Enemy Aliens? I says.

No, says Coyote. I'm going to that New Mexico. I'm going to that Los Alamos place in New Mexico, help those Whitemen want to make the world safe for freedom.

OK, I says, that sounds pretty good. That New Mexico is mostly that desert and those mountains. Nothing much in that Los Alamos place that Coyote can mess up.

Yes, now Coyote is gone. Yes, now those toes are safe. Yes, that's the end of the story. Well, you should have asked Coyote while he was here. Maybe if you hurry, you can catch him before he gets to that New Mexico.

No, I'm going to stay here. That Coyote will come back. That one always comes back. Somebody's got to be here to make sure he doesn't do something foolish.

I can tell you that.

I
CHOSE TO WRITE
on the subject of Canadas Native people winning the right to vote in federal elections for two reasons. The first is that we, the group of writers whose work you see in these pages, were asked to write a story or an essay for this project based on, or woven around, an important, that is to say, a pivotal, event in the history of Canada's Native people. This, of course, would mean—I started thinking right away—going back in history perhaps even as far as the storied arrival of Christopher Columbus in North America in 1492. My problem, however, is that I—to date anyway—have never been particularly good at writing what one might call “period pieces.” I've only really been truly comfortable writing about the “here and now”—that is to say, what is happening today. Or at least, what has happened during
my
lifetime, meaning what I myself remember happening, even if only vaguely.

Well, nothing
that
important has happened to the Native people of Canada this year or last, or even this last decade, at least nothing truly earth-shattering or universally transformational, at least nothing that
I know of. As I was thinking all of this, moreover, the notion that I really should be writing about, and around, an event that took place while I was alive, just kept coming back to me. That is to say, this “event” had to be an event that I myself, if only vaguely, would remember, and what's more, it had to be an event that was indeed “universally transformational.” It had to be an event that changed
all
our lives, clean across the country, in a manner that was significant, powerful, and permanent, and “all” meaning, of course, the Native people of Canada. And that event, I came to decide, was the day—the 31st of March, 1960—when we, as a “nation,” as a people, as human beings, got the right to vote.

I was eight years old in 1960, the year Prime Minister John Diefenbaker finally was successful in pushing through the legislation whereby we, as a people, got the right to vote in federal elections—the law whereby we, as a people, were able to decide our own fates, as it were, or, at the very least, help decide the fate and the direction our own country was and would be taking in the world at large. It dawned on me, moreover, that a people are not truly considered full-status human beings until their intelligence is recognized as being that of human beings, in which case they can then participate in the way their own country is run, the way their lives are decided for them. I think what also helped in this whole thinking process for me, personally, what pushed me along, was that I had just seen, in France, a play entitled
Controversy at Valladolid
, written only recently and considered a classic of modern French drama. In it a group of Roman Catholic clerics and intellectuals, fifty years after “the fact of Columbus,” are arguing, in the context of a major international forum, whether the “Indians of the Americas” are or are not human (for you see, in those days, the Pope considered that we had no souls, that we were equivalent, in effect, to wild, savage animals, like jungle cats or mink).