Blinded by drink, now Courtoreille speaks to others

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Joe Courtoreille rolled his cigarette, which never seemed to leave the ash tray in front of him, and occasionally felt the end of it. Courtoreille inhaled the smoke 'til his rough fingertips could feel the cigarette coming to an end. Then, he carefully put it out.

Like much of his daily routine, smoking a cigarette has become a meticulous pattern Courtoreille has developed so he can be independent from the blindness which impairs him.

But Courtoreille, of the Alexander Reserve, didn't always have this independence his other senses allow him.

With the assistance of interpreter Margaret Desjarlais, the 57-year-old began to tell me in Cree and English about the first time he lived alone.

"I wasn't trained or anything to live in an apartment...I went shopping and bought some 'sods' for laundry one day," said Courtoreille, showing some difficulty pronouncing words. "So I went to do my clothes. I put all (of) them in four (washing) machines and put in half the box (of detergent)....I was sitting there waitin'. You know, I had my little radio goin' there and the machines stopped. I opened this one and stuck my hand in there. And boy! It was jut like glue," he said, breaking into a laugh. "I went to the next one. Four! There was four just like that, so I just stood there. I didn't know what to do. I was really scared. I didn't know (whether) to cry or run away. I thought for sure the caretaker was going to give me heck or kick me out. He saw the machines and said, 'come on Joe - put your chin up and smile." I guess, the box I used (for detergent) was Cream of Wheat...there must have been enough to feed 40 men."

When Courtoreille was two years old, his grandparents took responsibility for him. "I followed some (of their advice about) my Native culture," Courtoreille continued in Cree. "I burn sweetgrass and pray - everyday.

"My grandfather never mentioned booze at the time...(because) there wasn't much alcohol involved in my time. I wish (that) he could (have) give us lectures about it," he said in English.

Desjarlais translated his next few words: "When I finally met up with alcohol, my father and Elders told me, "leave alcohol alone. One of these days it will destroy you.' I believe that now. They didn't dislike me when they lectured me about alcohol...they loved me and tried to discipline me."

Again Courtoreille spoke in broken English: "I didn't start drinkin' 'til I was 21...I wasn't a guy that would drink ever day. Just what do you call it?" he asked himself and answered, "Binge drinker...go out and have a big drunk for a couple of days and that's it."

In 1968, Courtoreille lost his sight after drinking moonshine mixed with methyl hydrate. He was unconscious for nine days at the Charles Camsell Hospital in Edmonton.

Courtoreille said "I woke up and my dad was sitting there along the bed. I told dad, 'put the lights on it's dark here.' 'Well, ' he said, 'it's three o'clock in the afternoon. Then I knew that I went blind.

"I stayed in the hospital for a couple months. l promised right there I wasn't goin' to drink again. But, the minute I went home, I started feeling sorry for myself and didn't care, 'I'm blind,' I told myself, 'I might as well keep drinking,' and that's what I did...I drank and drank and landed in the hospital just over my drinking. So I went to Henwood just to dry up, I guess...(but) the first thing (when) I got out I started drinking and I was on a drunk again."

This pattern continued for Courtoreille in 1979, when he went to the Bonnyville Rehabilitation Centre for the second time. "This time I listened to what they were talking about," Courtoreille said.

His life took a turn for the better and he has been a non-drinker since that time. Courtoreille says that "I got involved with going out and speaking with kids (at) Westview, YDC (Belmont and the Fort Saskatchewan Institute). That was good. It helped m and I hope I helped with some of them to understand their problems." In addition o correctional institutes, he tells his story to children at schools in northern Alberta.

Courtoreille looked more rested now than before we began speaking. "I still go to my AA meetings, and now I'm involved in lawn bowling and dancing. I just try to get out and keep busy."