Delegates turn to drums, dancing

Page 7

FIRST PERSON

Stephane Wuttunee attended the First World Indigenous Youth Conference in Quebec last month. This is a continuation of his coverage, which began in the last issue.

After lunch hour on July 15, another neat thing happened. We thought that if our minds were cluttered, how great it would be if we could separate into small workshops and identify the problems facing indigenous peoples today, and then start finding solutions.

Out of extraordinary generosity, the interpreters (non-Natives themselves) offered to stay on a volunteer basis and help the translation process between groups. To put a long story short, we moved butt! Piles of paper were taken to the computer room for typing. The results would be passed out the next morning. Yet even with this vision of success ahead, I still had doubts. Chief Martin of the Hopi Tribe and I crossed eyes. I walked over.

"I'm not sure if we're doing the right thing," I said in a low tone. It's useless trying to hide uncertainty from an elder, they know when you're feeling insecure about a decision.

He took his time in answering.

"Our people...tried paper way long time ago...didn't work...now I see young people doing same thing all over again...that's...the...bad way...hard work and prayer...that's good way. We lose all over again white man way...young people think the computer change everything for better and paper...think old way not work anymore and natural law..."

There was silence, we stood against the wall, observing the delegates busy at work. Then he finished: "Well, I guess we'll see someday who's right...we'll see.."

I waited for more guidance. It didn't come. He had said enough.

That evening, Harley and I went for supper in a chic French restaurant. Over pizza and orange juice, I shared how I felt about what was happening and how astray this whole thing had gone. Harley admitted he couldn't understand half the boring political terms we used in the forums. "I liked it best when we were on the river," he added. "Less complicated, more peaceful."

That really made me think. Just a few days ago, this 14-yer-old teenager kept saying out loud how anxious he was to get off the water and into a cozy bed at night.

And every day, in some way, he would curse the elements for raining, being too hot - whatever!

So how much worse could this conference be for him, I thought, that it makes him wish he were back out there canoeing!? This youth gathering had turned into a political tug of war, neither party winning. I felt ashamed for disappointing him. He even felt the hotel room was too hot!

Sleep didn't come easily that night. Kept thinking about what the old man, keeper of one of the five sacred Hopi prophecy stone tablets, had told me earlier, about the old ways coming back and rough times ahead.

I hated myself for going against my gut feelings. For reacting to peer pressure. Giving in. Why is admitting we're wrong so hard to do?!

Day Four. Different.

An attitude of laissez-faire developed. The organizers and I agreed to put everything behind us and start anew. "In many ways," I said on the mike, "this isn't a youth conference at all. It seems as though we are born middle-aged for all the problems surrounding us and we get older from then on."

I continued: "I'm sick and tired of hearing about problems in our countries and us not knowing what to do. Don't we often forget that with or without us, things eventually always work out in the end anyhow? So let's dance, and enjoy drumming, and let's bring back those kind of memories to our countries instead!!!"

We danced all morning. Even bumped up the guest speakers. This time, everyone took part. A few people gave short presentations and slide shows on their cultures. Delightful!

Short-lived pleasures.

We gradually became saddened again with more horror stories from other countries and the things that governments were doing to the women, children, men. It seemed as though we were doomed to repeat the despair of the past few days.