Brotherhood to Nationhood is more than just a biography of the life of George Manuel; it demonstrates the roots of an Indigenous internationalism and political theory that is grounded in the ethics, knowledge, and practices of the Secwepemc people.
Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, author of As We Have Always Done
Peter McFarlane’s classic biography of George Manuel is an intimate and meticulously researched history of the leader and his life’s work, discussing the critically important subject of Indigenous land and liberation. An absolute must-read.
Glen Coulthard, associate professor in First Nations and Indigenous Studies and Political Science at the University of British Columbia
Brotherhood to Nationhood is a necessary and critical book to read for anyone, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, who is interested in the life of George Manuel, one of the greatest contemporary Indigenous leaders in Canada and internationally.
Russell Diabo, member of the Mohawk Nation at Kahnawake and Indigenous policy analyst and activist
An essential companion book to Unsettling Canada, Brotherhood to Nationhood arrives at a critical moment in the fight for Indigenous sovereignty. As co-author of this updated edition, Doreen Manuel brings warmth, honesty, and insight to Peter McFarlane’s incisive text. Here we see the unvarnished risks and great rewards of a lifetime of dedicated activism—as well as the lessons that front-line Indigenous communities today can carry forward.
Naomi Klein, author of On Fire: The (Burning) Case for a Green New Deal
This second edition, with updated text co-written by Doreen Manuel, includes brand new insights, including the key role Indigenous women played in George Manuel’s story. Uplifting and inspirational, this book honours the legacy of a visionary political strategist, refreshing our collective memory on how to combine tact with toughness, organize effectively, build respectful relationships, live humbly, and to treat every step—either forward or backward—as a new learning experience in the larger struggle for Indigenous rights.
Sheryl Lightfoot, Canada Research Chair of Global Indigenous Rights and Politics
As a chronicle of postwar Indigenous resistance—from the back-breaking work of organizing communities to the building of the Assembly of First Nations and the fight for Aboriginal rights—this book is unmatched in its detail. As a testament to the many Indigenous women, without whom none of this could have happened, whose hard labour in struggling to keep families alive empowered that generation of Indigenous men, this book is even more important. Finally, as an exploration of the vision and strategic brilliance of George Manuel, and the power of his leadership, Brotherhood to Nationhood is without parallel.
Bonita Lawrence, chair of the Department of Equity Studies at York University
A gripping account of the life of a brilliant Indigenous leader whose vision remains a powerful blueprint for Canada’s unfinished business of decolonization. Like few books I know, it vividly conveys the sacrifices, rewards, and hard strategic choices involved in organizing for political change. The next generation of activists should read it to learn just how much we are indebted to the Manuel family’s legacy.
Martin Lukacs, journalist and author of The Trudeau Formula
We live in a time of colonial reconciliation amputated from truth, of extractive predation by the state and its citizenry, of denial and willful amnesia about Canada’s violent past and present. George Manuel’s decolonial vision speaks just as strongly today as during his lifetime, and it continues in the commitments of his family and his people. This new and expanded edition of Brotherhood to Nationhood reminds us of the transformative possibilities of a life’s work grounded in truth and a relentless commitment to decolonial justice. We need this book, more now than ever.
Daniel Justice, professor of First Nations and Indigenous Studies and English at the University of British Columbia
George Manuel may be Canada’s greatest prophet, and to refuse to consider his words of advice may be the ultimate folly of our times.
Vine Deloria Jr., American Indian activist
Praise
Epigraph
Foreword: Dr. Pamela Palmater
Preface: Peter McFarlane
Preface: Doreen Manuel
Note on the 2020 Edition
Part I: The Neck of the Chicken
Chapter 1: Paradise, Paradise Lost, 1960
Chapter 2: The Hard-Luck Shuswap Kid, 1920–1932
Chapter 3: White Plague, Red Victims, 1932–1954
Chapter 4: Local Agitator to Provincial Leader, 1955–1960
Chapter 5: A Future for Your Children, 1960–1963
Part II: Building the National Movement
Chapter 6: Community Development and the Arthur Laing Gang, 1965–1967
Chapter 7: Down the Garden Path: Chrétien/Andras Consultations, 1968–1969
Chapter 8: From White Paper to Red Paper, 1969–1970
Chapter 9: The National Chief
Chapter 10: The National Indian Philosophy, 1971–1972
Part III: Indian Shogun
Chapter 11: International Travels
Chapter 12: Land Title and the James Bay Battle, 1972–1973
Chapter 13: Red Power
Chapter 14: Political Eruptions in British Columbia, 1975
Chapter 15: A Voice for the Fourth World, 1975–1976
Chapter 16: Back to British Columbia, 1976–1977
Chapter 17: The Peoples’ Movement, 1977–1979
Chapter 18: Constitution Express, 1980
Part IV: Final Days
Chapter 19: European Express, 1981–1982
Chapter 20: Passing the Torch, 1982–1989
Epilogue
Afterword: Kanahus Manuel
Notes
Index
Copyright
In today’s digital age, Indigenous peoples all over Turtle Island have unprecedented access to information in real time. Social media has not only facilitated greater communication between our sovereign Native Nations but has empowered Indigenous resistance and organization in ways settler governments could never have imagined. We have access to critical information in real time that helps bolster our advocacy in both domestic and international fora. At the same time, social media has opened the virtual door to increased government surveillance and infiltration of our resistance movements. This requires us to strategically adapt to these changing conditions and think about our resistance in different ways. Our Elders remind us that sometimes to move forward, we need only look back. Within the life story of the late George Manuel, we find a call to look back—look back at who we truly are as sovereign Native Nations—so that we can find a way forward to resist assimilation, reclaim our lands and rebuild our Nations.
Peter McFarlane’s book, Brotherhood to Nationhood: George Manuel and the Making of the Modern Indian Movement, is the incredible life story of George Manuel—one of the greatest Native leaders of our time. Manuel rose to power at a time when we most needed him, while at the same time mentoring other leaders to join the cause. What sets this book apart from other biographies, autobiographies and historical writings about Native leaders, is that this one shares not only Manuel’s greatest joys, celebrations and political successes but also his regrets, his challenges and his mistakes. This book presents us with an imperfect man—one who had to navigate his own trauma—while trying to inspire our people to join the cause. The Manuel family’s decision to allow McFarlane to tell George Manuel’s unfiltered story may be one of the greatest contributions to Native history and politics. We can come from places of trauma, we can struggle to find our path and we can make bad decisions yet still be heroes for our Nations.
This new edition of the book tries to address one of the most important elements missing from the first edition—the voices of the Native warrior women in Manuel’s life who were an integral part of his success. Manuel’s first wife, Marceline, played a key role in supporting his work and the cause while also raising their children. We also learn that Manuel’s high-powered political teams were made up of mostly strong Native women. By sharing the important roles that Native women played in the cause, this book helps dispel the myth that the Indian movement was led only by men. Our Elders tell us that leaders occupy many roles in our Nations—some less visible than others. This new edition of the book helps bring these other leaders to light and is strengthened by the voices of Doreen Manuel, one of George’s daughters who is a success in her own right, and an afterword by his granddaughter Kanahus Manuel—one of the leading native activists today.
Manuel’s story is one of frustration and hope, anger and passion and weariness and strength for a cause that has been passed down to his children and now his grandchildren. Although this book was originally published two decades ago, new readers will be struck by the similarities between the issues that faced us then and those that face us now. Some may even feel disappointment at the exclusion of non-Status Indians from the movement or the failure to support Native women in their quest to regain their lost Indian Status. However, in being honest about the decisions he made at the time and why, Manuel holds himself to account. He holds out his decisions—that will ultimately be judged as having helped or hurt the cause—as invaluable insight for the future. Manuel’s transparency is a rare trait in politics and one we don’t see very often anymore.
While prime ministers and political parties may change, Canada’s genocidal policies against Native peoples continue under different names. We have endured a long winter of violent colonization of our lands and peoples. We have always looked to our leaders for direction in our resistance and resurgence, knowing that our greatest strength as sovereign nations has always been in our collectives. Together, we have defended our lands, our peoples and our sovereignty. We are still here. We are still strong. We will never give up. Our collective resistance to state oppression, dispossession, racism and violence is how we, as collectives, have survived ongoing genocidal laws and policies that target our peoples for removal from our lands.
This book unravels the tale of an undying commitment to the Indian movement, despite the personal cost to the late George Manuel and the many leaders with whom he surrounded himself. It is the story of our collective struggle and one that we will ultimately win, in part, because of the commitment to the cause shown by leaders like the late George Manuel. By passing on these important values to his children and grandchildren, he has ensured that there are new generations of warriors to take up the cause. I am honoured to have worked with his son Arthur and his granddaughter Kanahus as they continue George Manuel’s legacy. Reading this book again has re-inspired me to put even more effort into our cause. I believe that this next generation of Native warriors will be equally empowered by the lessons learned in George’s life.
March 30, 2020
When Between the Lines publisher Amanda Crocker suggested it might be a good time to release a new edition of Brotherhood to Nationhood, I admit I felt some ambivalence. The book told the story of one of the most remarkable Indigenous leaders of the 20th century, but it was more than twenty-five years old; I hadn’t looked at it in decades and I feared it might be irredeemably outdated. I told Amanda I would reread it and contact the Manuels and see what they thought before making a commitment. I then sent a note to Doreen Manuel, George’s daughter, and told her about the publisher’s reprint suggestion. I said I would go ahead only with the family’s approval.
Their approval was essential because, from the beginning, the book had been rooted in my friendship with the Manuel family. I worked on it directly with George’s son Bobby, then the head of the family, and indirectly with Bobby’s brother Arthur, who was already a friend and at whose urging I took on the project.
I had met Arthur in Montreal in the early 1980s through a group of Indigenous activists I came to know while freelancing for CBC Radio. He showed up at my small apartment on Chambord Street with mutual friends, Pottawatami painter Dana Williams and his brother Kenny. Arthur was working on a contract for an Indigenous organization in Ottawa at the time, and he often visited Montreal on weekends. I had just published my book on Canada and Central America, and we had a lively discussion about Indigenous peoples in Central America, who he was extremely knowledgeable of. It didn’t take me long to discover that Arthur was, politically speaking, the smartest guy I’d ever met. We kept in touch after that meeting, and eventually I met his wife Beverly and his wonderful children, who I am still happy to be friends with today.
Arthur’s father, George Manuel, was still alive when we met, but he was already quite ill. It was after George’s death in 1989 that Arthur suggested I write his biography, and the following year I travelled out to Neskonlith to meet with Bobby, George’s oldest son, to talk about the project. Bobby had come within two votes of being elected national Chief in 1980 and he was also a power in the Indigenous movement. He sat with me for hours, describing what he saw as the lay of the land and gave me a detailed list of people I should interview for any book on his father. His list, combined with many months of research at the National Library in Ottawa, provided the content for this book. But at the heart of it are the voices of the many remarkable people who Bobby and Arthur had introduced me to. Among the most important were Phillip Paul (Sencot’en), Harold Cardinal (Cree) and Marie Smallface Marule (Kainai). Each was a towering figure in their own right, and all of them spoke patiently to me for hours about how the movement developed and George’s unique role in it. All three of them deserve a much higher profile than they have been accorded, especially Marie Marule. Her connections to the African National Congress, the African socialist movement and to labour leaders in Canada shaped much of the strategic terrain of the Indian movement at the time. She was not only the ranking member of George’s team but a valued friend and confident. I was pleased that the reprint of Brotherhood to Nationhood would bring these voices back to life and, in a sense, give them a chance to participate in today’s political discussions.
In researching the original book, I had also been guided by many voices who were sometimes described at the time as Manuelistas for their devotion to George and his ideas. Among these were Dave Monture, Bill Badcock, Rosalee Tiyza, Millie Poplar, Wayne Christian, Roberta Jamieson and my friend Wayne Haimila who I would later co-author a book with. I also spoke to many of George Manuel’s key non-Indigenous advisors like Walter Rudnicki, Doug Sanders and Louise Mandell and some of his political opponents at the time like Bill Wilson. A new edition of Brotherhood to Nationhood would bring all of these voices back to speak to another generation. It also would bring back the voices of two important Neskonlith Elders, Amy August and Mary Thomas, who spent many hours talking to me about the young George and life in the community in the first half of the last century.
A new edition would also bring George Manuel and his fighting tradition into the present. After all, the growth of the Indigenous movement has been one of Canada’s most important political developments in the last half century. Since 1951, when an Indian Act revision lifted the restrictions on Indigenous organizing, the movement has emerged from the political wilderness where Indigenous concerns were addressed by the handful of retired military men who ran the Indian Affairs department. It has become a central issue of the country’s political and constitutional life.
These gains did not come easily. It took the efforts of innumerable activists in every region of the country fighting for their rights against all levels of government. And it took leaders who were, in fact, more skilled at political manoeuvrings than their opponents in government.
In his day, George Manuel was the greatest of these leaders. In his three decades of active political life, he served not only as the head of the national Indian organization, but also as the main strategist and visionary of the movement.
As a builder of organizations, his contribution is unequalled. When he took command of the newly formed National Indian Brotherhood in 1970, it was a paper organization without a funding source or a clear political direction. Manuel gave the twelve provincial and territorial Native organizations that made up the NIB a common “national Indian philosophy” aimed at winning sovereignty for the First Nations and built the organization into the largest lobbying force in Ottawa.
Manuel’s vision took him further—he sought the unity of Indigenous peoples of North, Central and South America and Eurasia. He called this collection of Indigenous societies, which had been swamped under successive waves of European expansion, the Fourth World and wrote a powerful book with that title. To give that world a voice, he launched the United Nations-affiliated World Council of Indigenous Peoples in 1975.
Through these two organizations and his writings and speeches, George Manuel gave shape to today’s Indigenous movement. Yet, despite these accomplishments, which earned him three Nobel Peace Prize nominations, he never stopped seeking new ways to push the struggle forward. When he became convinced that he had reached the end of his effectiveness as what he described as an “establishment Indian,” he returned to British Columbia to build and lead a “peoples movement” that was designed much more like today’s Idle No More than the current Assembly of First Nations that replaced the National Indian Brotherhood.
It was while he was leading his peoples movement from his British Columbia base that George Manuel had his greatest single impact on the national scene. During the constitutional debate of 1980, he led a thousand of his supporters to Ottawa and forced the government to include Aboriginal rights provisions in the Constitution, thus opening the door for future breakthroughs.
* * *
While Bobby Manuel and other family members were essential in laying out the road map for me to follow in my research, I should also point out that they were far from backseat drivers. On some of the thorny issues about his father’s life, I would ask Bobby if I should put them in or leave them out. His answer was always the same: if it was true, leave it in. This, I would discover, was how the Manuels operated. Decades later a mutual friend who read this book and was very generous in their praise of it, said the only thing they did not agree with were the sections where George might be seen in a less than flattering light. Arthur seemed surprised by the objection. “But it was true,” he said. “Why not say it if it is true?”
So in the end, the book contains the unvarnished truth of a man who struggled against the genocidal oppression of Canada in his youth and then went on to become a champion of the oppressed in the entire Fourth World of Indigenous Nations around the world.
By the time Doreen got back to me and said, “Let’s do it,” I was glad that the book, despite its flaws that were based on my own limitations, would re-emerge into the light.
I was even more certain of the value of a new edition when Doreen agreed to write a new preface and to work with me as co-author to update it. Among other things, Doreen has added a family perspective and important background information that I did not have at the time.
Doreen also gently, and quite rightly, takes me to task for not spending enough time with the women of the family in researching the book—and she helps correct that omission by providing information on her mother’s key role in her father’s political life. In discussing the reprint with her, I also learned that she was the source of one of my own favourite personal parts of the original book—the story of her mother and father’s courtship and of her mother’s own leadership-by-example role in the struggle. Although we didn’t meet at the time, Doreen’s original notes had been passed along to me during a short meeting I had with her sister, Vera Manuel, and they made their way directly into the story. I thank her for her important contribution to the original manuscript; for her valuable, and very much appreciated, addition to this one; and for her friendship all along the way.
In fact, for me personally, one of the most important outcomes of the original book was that it began a friendship with the entire Manuel family that has endured to this day. After the book was published, I continued as an occasional volunteer communication guy for Arthur in his brilliant career as an Indigenous leader and thinker. In the final four years of his life, I was honoured to be asked to work as an editor on Unsettling Canada and Reconciliation Manifesto, the books he co-authored with his friend and political confidant Grand Chief Ronald Derrickson.
The legacy of George Manuel continued in a very real way in Arthur’s leadership of the anti-colonial struggle in Canada and internationally. After Arthur’s tragic passing in January 2017, that legacy has continued in the work of his children, George Manuel’s grandchildren. At the moment of this writing, George’s grandson Ska7cis and his granddaughters Kanahus, Mayuk and Snutetkwe, have worked with their mother Beverly to build a community of tiny houses that stand in the way of the Transmountain pipeline and a thousand-man “man camp” that is set to invade Secwepemc territory. They are known as the Tiny House Warriors, and there is no doubt George Manuel would be fiercely proud of them. They are inheritors of their grandfather’s assertion that he would rather die without an agreement with the government and pass on to his children and grandchildren “the legitimacy of the struggle than a deal that they could not live with.”
It is more than fitting, then, that this edition of the book ends with an afterword from Kanahus Manuel who, along with her sisters and brothers, looks ahead in the struggle they inherited from the man who did so much to define and advance the movement for Indigenous sovereignty in Canada and internationally.
I believe that even in a book that is primarily about politics and the activism of our peoples, family details are important in understanding the incredible pressures involved in mounting a modern-day movement while struggling with the effects of colonization, childhood trauma and intergenerational grief.
At the end of his life my dad, George Manuel, said to me, “don’t let the people forget about me.” He was not vain about his contribution, although it would span his lifetime and be one of the most significant works accomplished by any Fourth World Indigenous leader in the world. Rather, he wanted the people to understand the magnitude of the battle that he foresaw in our future and to be inspired by the visionary work that could still be accomplished.
Peter McFarlane’s book is part of that legacy work that helps my dad’s spirit to rest well. Thank you to Peter for all of the research, time spent living among my family and for your incredible writing that pays tribute to George Manuel, a great leader.
Throughout his career, my dad’s teams were primarily made up of strong women. I honour those women who worked tirelessly with him to protect our Aboriginal title and rights.
My traditional names is Running Wolf. I was born in the late night hours of February 13, 1960. My dad was partying with Chief Harvey Jules in the living room of our family home. My mom Marceline, and Harvey’s wife, Mary, were visiting in the kitchen when mom went into labor. Between them, the only vehicle they had that would fit all of them was a pick-up truck. In labor with her youngest of six children and during the coldest month of the year, my mom climbed into the back of an open box pickup to take the long thirty-mile ride to Kamloops hospital. She no sooner arrived when I popped out. I tell this story as a way of letting you know that my mom was as tough as nails and, above all, fearless.
George and Marceline were born in the early 1920’s. They were both survivors of the Indian residential school. You read about George’s childhood in this book, but Marceline is barely mentioned. Growing up in a family affected by colonialism, women’s contributions were barely celebrated and rarely recognized. I recalled that when Peter was doing his research, he first met with all of the men in the family in Chase. By the time he made his way to Vancouver, he had only arranged to meet with our eldest sister, Vera. I gave my stories to Vera, and the story about how mom and dad first met, the opening of their love story, made its way into the book.
I always knew that mom was an enormous part of dad’s work in the early days, especially her fundraising skills. She was the one who brought back the craft and traditions of tanning hides, buckskin work, feather work and beadwork to the Secwepemc. None of that existed after the harsh effects of colonization from the nearby Kamloops residential school. Mom was a residential school survivor herself, but when she was released, her grandparents took her home and made her stay there until she learned the skills of a traditional woman. After her traditional womanhood training, she went to work at Coqualeetza Indian TB clinic in Chilliwack, BC where she met Dad and they fell in love.
When they married and started a family, she steadfastly supported his values and beliefs. She wanted and was prepared to fight alongside him for the human rights our peoples so desperately needed at that time. She made gloves, moccasins and all sorts of artwork and sold it so he had travel money for his political work. She held the family together and fed us the best she could with what was left after he took the bulk of the money to organize the movement. Many times we had nothing but chicken feed to eat for dinner because there was no other food. To help out the family, all of us kids picked bottles off the side of the road, and picked through the garbage dump looking for anything useful. My brothers Bob and Art learned from a young age how to strip cars to make money. Our mom remained a tough activist throughout her life. I remember her and I tanning ten hides all at once, three of her fingernails fell off during that tanning session, and she kept on working without a complaint. She was part of the Leonard Peltier defense efforts that fought his extradition from Canada; the Indian Child Caravan in the 1970s that fought to stop the rampant apprehension of First Nations children; the Concerned Aboriginal Women’s Movement (late 1970s) that overtook the Vancouver Indian Affairs office as a stand to demand better living conditions for our peoples; and she supported the Constitution Express.
I think it’s important to honour the sacrifices that our mom and my brothers and sisters made to aide in our dad’s work; they contributed to his success in the work he did for all Indigenous peoples.
There are a few details in this book that require clarification.
Starting with chapter six, there are a few family details that are omitted. Dad recounts them in his daily journal that he started in 1966 and wrote in for most of his life. On January 1, 1966, after they had been separated for two years, he visited mom in the hospital. This separation was the permanent one. He wanted to take an educational program and leave the children. She supported him completely, and he was grateful for her support. By April 1966 he was back in British Columbia.
Friday April 8, 1966
Took Marceline to the Kamloops Indian Residential School to take out Arthur, Arlene, and Richard. I was very happy to see them for the first time since January. Marceline went to Salmon Arm with Arlene to visit Bobby by bus. Phoned Marion to tell her to tell Alma to have Doreen by the highway in Chase for Marceline to pick her up.
Saturday April 9, 1966
Had a slight misunderstanding with Marceline over Doreen staying with Alma, said Doreen was starving. I then took Gloria to Vernon for a treat supper, then went back to Chase with Arlene, Richard, and Doreen and camped at the old house again.
Monday June 25, 1966
My little sweet girl Doreen and I camped last night at Tessie’s, we slept in this morning. Arthur got back from Vernon at 4 pm today and we then went to Chilliwack arrived at 10:30 pm camped at Mrs. Williams. We had a very happy get together with Vera, Arthur, Arlene, Richard and Doreen.
Wednesday April 14, 1968
Annual Holidays. Departed from Canal Flats at 8 am proceeded through Windermere, Radium, Golden, Rogers Pass, Revelstoke and arrived at Salmon Arm BC Gordon Lake, Twin Island Lodge where my children are at 2 pm to find that Bobby got left by Gloria and Arlene went with Gloria, leaving Doreen to look after Bobby and Gloria’s baby of 6 weeks old, quite a responsibility for my 8 year old Doreen, but then Doreen has grown and matured beyond her years.
Mom was hospitalized for an extended stay, and dad moved Arlene, Richard and I to Cowichan while he worked as a Community Development Officer. He had left Arthur in Mission Indian Residential School. During the summers Arthur would get out come to visit us then hit the road looking for work, which is how he was arrested and sent to the prison in Calgary. From an interview I conducted on camera with Arthur a few years before his passing, he stated that dad didn’t send money until he was almost ready to be released and that it wasn’t even enough for a bus ticket back to residential school. It was the prison warden who gave him the balance of the bus ticket to get back to Mission.
We lived with dad for most of the time he spent in Cowichan. When he planned to move to Alberta is when he put Arlene and I in the Port Alberni Indian Residential School and Richard in the Mormon Indian Placement program.
Sunday October 1968
I brought the girls to the residential school . . . last time I took them out Doreen was very depressed and it made me feel bad.
Friday April 4, 1969
Arthur and Doreen are with me and I am really happy that they chose to come and stay with me, for a few days during the Easter holidays. I love them so very much and I miss them so very much, but circumstances, which is very difficult to go into makes it impossible to stay with me. I hope a day will come within the near future, when circumstances will make it possible to keep them with me, finances etc, stable enough to give us all a sense of real security.
Monday November 24, 1969
I bought my son Arthur an office desk from where he can do his homework. I love this boy something terrible and I am very impressed with his efforts toward his homework and his efforts to attain a half decent education. He is one of my boys that appears to have the desire to go on to higher education. A life he will no doubt appreciate.
Saturday December 20, 1969
My two boys are going to fly by Air Canada to Victoria BC. This will be both Arthur and Richard’s first trips on an airplane. My son Richard has been on the LDS Indian placement program for the past one year and a half. I requested that I take him out for Xmas and the President Harry Smith, Calgary refused me, so I am taking him out anyway. It is my responsibility and I feel I want him to grow up with me. I love him very much and I want him to know that. I want him to experience the experience of being with his father to grow up with.
Only a couple short months after our dad was born, his father Rainbow collapsed while working in the field. In an interview I conducted with my dad’s younger sister, Tessie, we talked about their mom, Maria’s, marriage to Rainbow. Tessie said that Rainbow was considerably older than Maria and was childless. He wanted to leave his land to someone and so he approached Maria’s parents to ask their permission to marry her. He explained to them that he didn’t expect her to be a wife in a romantic way; rather, he needed a young woman to help him with the farm and, in turn, she would inherit the land after he was gone. However, Maria soon fell in love with Rainbow and their marriage and resulting son, George, was born out of love. When Rainbow passed away so suddenly, Maria was heartbroken and suffered the loss of the man she had grown to love.
After much painstaking deliberation, our mom left our dad because he was, like many Indian residential school survivors, struggling with severe childhood trauma, which caused him to behave violently towards her. He would not allow her to take the children, Bob, Vera and Arthur. Back in those days women had little power in the family. She met a man in Calgary and they lived together. Eventually Dad found her; he phoned her and asked her to come home. He put Vera on the phone to plead with her to come home. She told him she was pregnant and he told her that he would adopt the child and treat the child as his own. True to dad’s word he always treated Richard as if he were his own child. As adults I asked Richard if he ever wanted to meet his biological father. Mom had told me his name and I offered to help Richard find him. Richard declined, stating that he had a father and loved him very much.
* * *
Peter says, “The rejection of funding had been a serious tactical error because it was premature.” I remember being by my brother Chief Bob Manuel’s side as we lived through the rejection of funds on the Neskonlith reserve. It was a turning point for Neskonlith. I know that singular experience changed us forever. It was like our spiritual fast to come back into our power as a warrior people. As a young teen I remember dad taking me home to Neskonlith to visit. On one particular visit we drove through the village. That image is burned into my memory. Men and women stood out on the road swaying with drunkenness, a baby sat in a mud puddle in a soaking wet diaper crying. When we rejected funding, we had a band meeting and everyone agreed to participate. The ones who could not do without their alcohol moved to town to collect social services, and our community dried up overnight. Sarah Deneault’s family planted potatoes in their large field, enough for the entire community, and we planted squash. Susan August, Nora Narcisse—every garden contributed different selections. Those of us with hay fields all agreed to pool the earnings to pay hydro bills and pay for essentials that we couldn’t gather ourselves. Hunting and butchering parties were planned. As if overnight, we shed our colonial blankets and stood up into independence. I was never more proud of my people and of my brother Bob as I was during that time. He led them through a life-changing era that would make each person whole again. I became a warrior woman and shed all fear and doubt. As a result of our resurgence as warriors, it was many of us who became the backbone of the Indian Child Caravan and Concerned Aboriginal Women’s Movement. It was many of the members of those two groups who eventually joined the Constitution Express. Therefore, while a differently timed rejection of funds may have yielded a different history, the way it played out made a huge impact on our survival as a people.
Peter and I have continued to work together all these years later. Bob, Vera, Arthur and Richard have all passed on to the spirit world. Some of Bob’s greatest achievements are documented in this book. Arthur went on to become a great leader in his own right. He published two books—Unsettling Canada and Reconciliation Manifesto. Vera became an internationally renowned facilitator and trainer of intergenerational childhood trauma recovery, as well as a celebrated writer, poet and playwright; her works dissect the effects of colonialism. Emalene (Arlene) explores models of colonization through story and theatre as a way to work toward Indigenous community resurgence. Richard was a highly successful community and economic developer for our people of the Neskonlith First Nation. I am the first First Nations woman in Canada to hold a seat on the board of directors of Knowledge Network and to hold the position of director of a major film center. I represent our people on several film and television industry groups and am highly instrumental in raising funds and developing services and representation for First Nations in the industry. I am still a political and environmental activist. Of my father’s younger children, whom he had with Marlene August, Martha works for a mining company, George Jr. is a grassroots activist fighting industries that endanger our environment and Ida is a grassroots activists fighting to protect the land and water and bring recognition to the plight of our murdered and missing women. Ara Aikio, my Dad’s Sámi child, who he had with Maria Sofe, is also a land and water protector in his territory.
Dad’s living situation became unstable in 1986; that’s when he moved in with me. Although they separated when I was a young child, our mom remained true to the visionary work they had started together, and she respected him as leader, offering to help me with his care. The old people say that when people are soul mates they usually pass into the spirit world within a year of each other. Dad passed away 360 days after mom.
Our family is made up of dysfunctional survivors of Indian residential school colonialism. Both mom and dad were survivors, and four of us younger of the six children attended Indian residential school—Arthur, Arlene, Richard and I. Dad taught those of us who cared to learn about protecting our Aboriginal title and rights, the land and water, and the rights of future generations. His legacy continued and still continues through his children and followers, the Manualistas, who adopted his values to protect the rights of the children yet unborn.
You will notice that we left the use of the term “Indian” in this edition because it was the most widely used term at the time by Indigenous people. It does seem dated now, but it is also perhaps useful that the reader is reminded that this book was written almost three decades ago. It also avoids, in some instances, the problem of using “First Nation” to describe what is a community or an individual. This is something the People of Neskonlith continue to be sensitive to. They object to referring to Indigenous bands as “nations” as in First Nation. The Nation is the Secwepemc Nation and not the band, which even today they still continue to refer to as the Neskonlith Indian Band. For the same reason, I have also kept the earlier spelling of “Shuswap” instead of Secwepemc. In fact, Shuswap also continues to be used as the official name of the Shuswap Nation Tribal Council, although Secwepemc is by far the most commonly used spelling today.
I get the neck of the chicken
I get the rumble seat ride
I get the leaky umbrella
Everyone casts me aside
Cab Calloway song and George Manuel party piece