Albert Dumont

“When you fear criticizing certain individuals or groups, you know who your masters are,” so said an Armenian man I met years ago at a conference. His words flooded my mind last week when Chief Wilton Littlechild presented, as a gift to the Pope, an eagle feather headdress. The photo I saw of the Pope, the headdress adorning his head, was spiritually sickening to me. What an offence! The eagle feather is sacred to First Nations people who hold it close during trying times. We embrace it as a symbol of Indigenous spiritual beliefs! I was taught after my sobriety began 34 years ago that a human being could do a lifetime of good deeds and not receive even one eagle feather. Yet somehow, the Pope was gifted with a headdress filled with many of the sacred feathers. For what? Because he apologized? How does that make him worthy of being within even 50 ft. of an eagle feather? Other activists and I sometimes wonder if some men recognized as Indigenous leaders suffer onto themselves the weight of an inferiority complex. It is something they can shed from their shoulders anytime they wish but cling to it instead.

What else are we to conclude when powerful First Nations leaders defend Chief Wilton Littlechild for gifting the Pope with an artifact (feather headdress) of such profound spiritual embodiment to us, who regard the eagle feather as something allowing the Creator’s messenger to soar. Have these leaders forgotten that the First Nations people are struggling to revive a spirituality Canada outlawed until into the 1950’s? Have they forgotten that the Pope is the head of a church responsible for bringing cruelty to their people and miserable deaths to thousands of our children? The giving of eagle feathers to the Pope was to me, a vile mockery of First Nations spiritual beliefs. These leaders have lost, not only my respect by defending what Littlechild did but also that of probably tens of thousands of other First Nations individuals who honour the eagle feather as something of great spiritual significance and purpose. Do they care? Only time will tell. Keep in mind that if a Pope had ever come to our lands and gifted one of our Grand Chiefs a solid gold chalice filled with wafers (the eucharist) the Pope had personally blessed, it would be clear to all that the Catholic Church had collapsed! Lost its way! And was no longer an entity worthy of millions of followers.

The Pope revealed in an interview on his return to Rome that it had not “come to mind” that he should mention “genocide” in his apologies. Didn’t come to mind? I wonder why it is that Indigenous leadership didn’t bring it to mind, bluntly and forcibly to the Pope. Why did they neglect to do so? Perhaps they feared that the reaction of the “master” would be too difficult for them to endure.

During the week the Pope was in Canada I heard or read comments made by Indigenous people signalling their inferiority to the masters. “He (the Pope) is God’s representative on this planet,” said one. Sorry, but he is not! All of us, you, me and every other human being on this planet is God’s/Creator’s representative while living out our lives on this earth. You either fail in surrounding yourself with Creator’s teachings or you embrace them with all the strength of your spirit. Another statement: “I felt his pain, I felt his sorrow, I felt his heart.” Strange, because I did not! All I saw was an old man reading from a prepared script and I felt nothing because of it. No emotion whatsoever came forth!

I remember a white man saying back in the 1970’s: “Why are those Indians always whining? We brought them the word of the Lord! And for that alone, they should be forever thankful for European presence on these lands.” If bringing “the word of the Lord” here to Turtle Island is what brought the Indian Act and severe oppression of this county’s original inhabitants, then I would rather the word of the Lord had stayed in Europe.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

as published in the TORONTO STAR on July 1, 2022

Wondering today, if anyone representing the Anishinabe Algonquin Nation  was called upon to offer an opinion on what symbol should grace the centre of the nation’s flag a couple of generations ago. The flag after all, would sing its song from atop the Peace Tower, located on the unceded, never surrendered lands of the Anishinabe Algonquin Nation. I can only imagine what astronomical outrage and protest would have erupted from a large number of Canadians if someone from a First Nations bloodline had played a crucial role in the new flag coming into being, back in 1960. Such were the times! Dare I say such “are” the times? Sadly, supremacist mentalities still have a strong pulse in this country. There were and indeed still are, hardliners who believe Canada would be a greater country if not for the presence of the First Nations People in it! It’s a fact that five years prior to the maple leaf being proclaimed Canada’s national flag by Queen Elizabeth II, the First Nations Peoples of the country were forbidden, by law, to vote in federal and provincial elections! 1965, it’s not all that long ago!

Oh the flag! Before its birth, there was horror! The atrocities committed against human beings in this country are embedded deep into its fabric. It is a fact Canadians need to be aware of and should, because of it, commit to all efforts of reconciliation as proposed to them by the people of Indigenous bloodlines. A country without a conscience, is a country without a soul!

The notion of killing “the Indian in the child”, was the collective dream of Canada’s first parliamentarians. Under the colony’s ‘Red Ensign’ the so-called ‘opposition’ did not oppose the first Prime Minister’s plans to perpetrate genocide against this country’s original inhabitants. The Indian Act, was created by the ‘Fathers of Confederation’ for one reason and for one reason only, and that was to get the First Peoples out of the way so that their resource-rich lands could be raped and plundered. It is outrageous for anyone to believe that it was Canada’s taxpayers who funded the railroad going from the nation’s east to its western edges. It was wealth! Such as that produced by the timber, the gold, the silver, the iron ore and so on, stolen from the Algonquins, the Mi’kmaq, the Ojibwe and other First Nations in the east which made the construction of the railway possible.

But after all is said and done on this topic I can honestly say from my most humble heart of heart’s viewpoint, that I see a lot of good in the Canadian flag. My kid brother Russell served in the ‘Canadian’ Armed Forces from the time he was 18 till his death, resulting from being struck by a car, driven by a drunk driver in this 25^th year of life. Russ served 3 years in the army and then 3 years on the ‘Saskatchewan’, a Canadian battle ship. He loved Canada! He would have put his life on the line (as did so many other brave First Nations soldiers of past wars) for Canada, anytime, any place, of that there is no doubt.

When I look at the maple leaf on the Canadian flag, I see the heart of Terry Fox. Tell me, was there ever a finer young man than Terry Fox? Imagine a world where all people had Terry’s heart and with it the love and respect he had for all people, regardless of culture or skin colour! There are many citizens in this country who are exactly like Terry Fox. They are of varying skin colours. They are old and they are young! They are the simple living and they are the powerful! I know, because I have worked with many of them over the years. And that is why I too, care greatly about Canada. When such good people stand together in protecting the integrity of the ‘maple leaf’, they can count on me to be by their side.

I cannot recall that I ever had a fear of death. Truthfully, there was even a time in my younger years when I felt I could, without a second thought, welcome ‘death’ upon my person with open arms. Such was the mind of an emotionally troubled young Algonquin man living in a town where no other Indigenous people were present.

The last movement, taking away the warmth of that physical (and spiritual) wonder, the human heart, is an event all of us will experience, somehow, somewhere, sometime. When will it happen? Who knows? I only know that I’m ready for it. I have been for a long, long time. Hey! I survived a 43 ft. fall and even as I was flying towards the ground, feeling that my ‘end’ was at hand, I had no fear. The fact that I was not panicked at the thought of dying when my 215 lbs. frame hit the ground might have saved my life.

As a volunteer I have spoken openly and straightforwardly but compassionately to the dying, when requested by them to help out with concerns they had about leaving this physical realm. Those who were terrified in the face of the unknown, came to accept in time that death was not really something to be afraid of. If we have spiritual beliefs, if we are sensible, then all will be well. Trust in your spiritual beliefs! A perspective that fits for a particular mindframe is key.

Perhaps it is because I have a unique relationship with death (my interest in it goes back to when I was 8 years old) that today, I sit with humility and with much kindness near a human heart, soon to cease in its purpose of bringing life to a human body. I lend of my counselling skills to a human being in their last hours of life, something I am told that my grandmother and her sister also volunteered to do in their day!

I recall standing with a First World War veteran by the coffin of a man killed in a farming accident in 1958. The dead man had no relatives to mourn him. The old veteran asked that I and a few other children pray for the soul of the deceased, whose body lay in an empty room, no one present to offer prayers. “Prayers of children are the most precious,” said the veteran. “Children do not hate anyone.” The experience had a life-altering affect on me, though I was only 8 years old.

The dying often bring forth wise and profound statements in their final days. I have always been in wonder of what they have taught me. It was an honour and a privilege to be there with them in their last hours of life. I know I will see them again in the spiritual place existing in the Land of the Great Mystery.

There was a brave woman, who on her last day of life told me that what she would miss the most of this great physical world was the “picking of wild blackberries.” It was in the early autumn of the year. “Why don’t we, you and I go picking blackberries together next August. I will pick them physically and you will be by my side picking them spiritually,” was my response. “It’s a deal!” she said with excitement.

The brave woman passed away soon afterwards, the weeks and months came and went with grace into Mother Earth’s personal archives. Seasons passed and when August, in its last days rolled in the following summer, I went to the forest to pick wild blackberries. The brave woman and I picked blackberries together as I promised her we would.

The dead are not rendered helpless nor useless in any way after the magic of the human heart stops forevermore to warm the blood of a human being. Your loved ones who died, recently or even many thousands of years ago, will come by your side when you need them there. Think about it! Imagine that after you die and find yourself in the spiritual world and you hear the request of a member of your bloodline to come by their side. They are in emotional distress and need your love and support. Would you choose to go to them or would you choose to ignore them? My choice would be to drop what I was doing and immediately go to the side of a hurting relative. After all, in my view, no one will love my future generations more than I will.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

A life-altering fact about my life is that the enormous cruelty of a person of my long ago past left me emotionally and spiritually wounded. I have often spoken about the darkness which entered my life because of the effects this person’s actions had on my formative years. One day as we talked on the subject of forgiveness, a friend asked if it was possible for me to find it in my heart to forgive the person who brought such profound dysfunction, through their cruelty, into my life. My answer was, “No, I cannot forgive this person.” Why? It is simply because the person I speak of (now deceased) never came to my door and asked forgiveness of me. If the guilty person would have come to my home and spoken words of regret and remorse for their long ago cruelty, I would have invited the person into the warmth of my humble abode where a circle would be formed. The sacred items of our spiritual beliefs (theirs and mine) would be placed in the centre of the circle and a conversation would then occur. I, as the person who suffered at the hands of the guilty party would expect to hear, in detail, why the person did what they did to alter so severely, my human right to emotional and spiritual wellness. If I felt, because of the words spoken in the circle that the sorrow of the person was real and truly in line with what I define as a genuine ‘act of contrition’, I have little doubt I would forgive the person whose cruelty contributed to my life going out of control in my younger years. To be clear, if the person whose cruelty caused so much emotional turmoil in my life had never sought me out for forgiveness (they did not), then no, forgiveness from me would never have had a chance of occurring. I would be at peace with leaving it in the domain of Creator where I am confident justice would come to pass. No one escapes justice! Not me, not you, not the Pope or any other human being, ‘gets away’ with doing wrong nor will any house of worship (including the Catholic church) guilty of crimes against humanity escape justice after Creator’s historical review takes place.

The Indigenous Peoples of Canada who suffered so greatly at residential schools have not waited for the Pope to come to their door. Instead, they have gone to his house  asking to receive an apology for the wrongs of the past. To me, it’s a very strange way of going about it. If the Pope is interested in forgiveness, then it should have been on him to request a time where he could with lowered shoulders, be given an opportunity to plead for forgiveness. The Pope should forever be mindful that the dead children of the residential schools have a say in it! Will there be a healing circle where the Pope and Indigenous Peoples can heal together? What will the church do to make amends? I have written 2 poems connected to this very topic. They are found in my book ‘Sitting by the Rapids’. I offer them in this space now and am hopeful that you will spiritually and emotionally connect with them.

Because of You
The Words of the Victim
Albert Dumont©

You pushed me into raging waters
And I wonder
If I will ever be the same

Because of you
I have forgotten the reasons
For the blossoms
And the purpose of the rain

Because of you
Instead of smiling into the dawn
I hide
And shed tear after tear

Because of you
I feel as the rust
That descends onto the beauty
Of the autumn’s maple leaves

Because of you
Peace eludes me
And I know only heartache
Everywhere I turn

It is good that you tell me
That you are sorry
But tell me also
What you will do that will
Restore who and what I was
Before your cruelty
Pushed me into raging waters

Because of Me
The Words of the Perpetrator
Albert Dumont©

I pushed you into raging waters
And now I wonder
If you will ever be the same

Because of me
You have forgotten the reasons
For the blossoms
And the purpose of the rain

Because of me
Instead of smiling into the dawn
You hide
And shed tear after tear

Because of me
You feel as the rust
That descends onto the beauty
Of the autumn’s maple leaves

Because of me
Peace eludes you
And you know only heartache
Everywhere you turn

I regret that I have caused you
Such great suffering
And I am sorry
What would you have me do
That would help you
Restore who and what you were
Before my cruelty
Pushed you into raging waters

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

Have you ever wondered if a tree feels the weight of a bird singing on even its smallest branch? The tree does not object in any way to the presence of a bird who enters its circle of spiritual energy nor does it cringe at the song it sings there. Let us always be mindful that the tree is as a pew of countless others in a grand cathedral (the world over) into which spirit is ever present. The tree delights in the presence of the bird, so much so that it sends forth its own voice to rise and sing in harmony with that of one filled with similar purity and innocence as its own. The tree welcomes all birds and critters who come to rest or nest on its limbs. Trees spiritually recognize that it is part of Creator’s instructions for them to be accommodating and gracious when ‘All their Relations’ come to them in a good way.

Trees are truly the most forgiving of all Creator’s beings. Human beings have felled trees, too often needlessly, and yet they return, growing again (if not paved over) to provide oxygen, shade, teachings, beauty, even into the lives of living entities, such as politicians and developers who have no respect for them.

The trees of Anishinabe Algonquin territory have suffered greatly in the past. Lumber barons acquired vast fortunes. A city was built! With industry and colonization, the ‘right’ for a tree to live with purpose and then to die a natural death was infringed upon. The notion of reconciling with trees for the abuse they have endured for many generations should be considered by the people of faith today. Why not? Where would Ottawa be without the sacrifice of trees?

Imagine you, a citizen of Ottawa, writing in your life’s journal about the actions you took to assure that a tree within perimeters of a city would be allowed to live and die a natural death. To tell of this to your future generations would be, I believe, one of the finest spiritual highlights in one’s life. Creator bestowed blessings and rights onto all things touched by a spiritual vision originating at a time long before human beings ever took their first steps upon the earth. Among all the things blessed by Creator, it’s the trees who stand out as beings who provide the most, bringing health and wellness so people could live and thrive on sacred Mother Earth. They are wise! They are forgiving! They are pure and oh, so very gracious! The moon and stars honour them. All things of the earth benefit from their presence.

Human beings today take the most important things of Creator’s touch for granted. Not many of us sing praises for the waters of our country. The sun shines and produces energy and wellbeing for all life of the earth but not many of us acknowledge it. Not enough of us honour the trees for their great contribution to the beauty, to the teachings, to their cleansing abilities. Trees need to be present. If they disappear, we will perish.

The spiritual world calls upon the faith leaders to step forward and at long last defend the rights Creator gave the trees to live long and with purpose. If a faith leader has any doubt on the position they should take regarding protecting trees, let them search their holy book for guidance. Faith leaders should never be regarded by their followers as being in league with the insanity of corrupt politicians and devious developers. Should such a day ever come to pass, we will be that much closer to being regarded by Creator more as robots, than as human beings.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

Though the February day was bitterly cold, I was feeling as if nothing could possibly remove the warmth my spiritual beliefs bring into my life each day of each season.

I found myself contemplating at length, all things connected to spirit, the forest had absorbed since the early days of its origins. The stunning wonders Creator had placed within the embrace of the forest: The songs of colourful birds, large and small, the snorting of the deer, the chatter of the leaves on a breezy summer day. I thought of all the trees who had lived long, given oxygen, provided nesting grounds for birds and critters, shelter, fragrance and medicine for us, the lowly human beings. I wondered about the mystery and the sacredness of the forest. I saw tall wild blackberry and raspberry stems sticking out of the snow, reminding me of the delicious pies they had brought to the feasting circle.

I thought of the strong women I have encountered in my life: my grandmother, my mom, my daughters, my grandchildren. I threw tobacco into the breeze for them. I thought about the waters, in the snow, the ice, the gum of the spruce, the sap in the maple. I gave thanks for the waters alive in my blood, my skin, my heart and organs and even in the coldness of the winter day.

“It’s a good day to be alive,” I said over and over again as I walked slowly out of the forest.

The ceremony I describe is one I do now and then. I call it my ‘prayer walk’. With Creator’s blessing I will continue to do so more and more and more for many years to come.

The Smile

I offer the smile
Of a human being
To you, o Creator
As an acknowledgement
Of my love for all
You bless me with, each day

The freshness and purity
Of a mountain wind
The perfection of the song
Sung by orange-breasted little birds

The energy and innocence
Of a happy child
The waters of a mighty river
Washing over ancient rocks
These things, bring forth
The smile
Of a humble human being

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

If you connect the word ‘Freedom’ to your cause regardless of how committed you are to abusing the human rights of your fellow Canadian, you will get a free pass and get away with all manner of lawlessness in Canada’s capital city. The police won’t bother you! Hell, the coppers will give you high-fives and allow you to use their cruisers as photo booths. Conservative politicians will pose with you for selfies and bring you Tim Horton’s coffee and donuts. Pierre Poilievre who is making a political run to become the leader of Canada’s Conservatives called the protesters ‘the salt of the earth’. Many of the protesters on Parliament Hill are anything but! They are not even the salt on the frozen Highway 105 on a minus 30º day. The only comparison with salt they have going for them is the skin colour (Poilievre) of supremacist organizations leaders, who are funding the actions the rebels are perpetrating in Ottawa at this very moment.

The protesters say they care about freedom, but instead of a dove they bring with them, loud-mouthed bullies to intimidate law-abiding citizens on the city’s streets. Some of the convoy’s supporters will say, “Don’t paint us all with the same brush.” Sorry my friend, but when you are standing shoulder to shoulder with a bully, a statement is made about you. It tells the world that you are good with what your fellow freedom fighter (ugh!) is doing. If you were not, you would exit the stage! I know I would!

“F..k Trudeau” you say. Come on guys! Such statements prove you to be a bit on the childish side. If you don’t want Trudeau as your Prime Minister, I suggest you put your apparently excessive energies towards defeating him in the next federal election. Taking your hate for Trudeau out on kind-hearted people in Algonquin territory is a hard-to-forgive mistake on your part.

Have you (the salt-of-the-earth protestor) ever for a moment thought about what would have happened in the last two years if all Canadians saw the world as some of you do? A world where absolutely no one saw it fitting because of trust issues to get vaccinated! My goodness, what would the death toll have been in Canada, by allowing COVID to run rampant to crush Canada’s hapless healthcare system like a bulldozer on a bushel of apples?

I support a human being’s right to choose. I chose to get vaccinated only because that’s what made sense to me. Good and precious friends of mine chose not to get vaccinated. That’s what made sense to them. I am good with their decision. Some of the mandates make sense and some don’t. How about we vote for the politicians who made the most sense come election day? Until then let’s not scare the hell out of the innocent. They had nothing to do with your rights being infringed upon.

To the rebels I say this: The lives of your elderly family members, your friends, your neighbours, your fellow citizens don’t mean much to you, do they! The only thing that matters in your life is how you and you alone define what freedom is. When you don’t get your way, you throw a tantrum. By all means do so! Scream and jump to your heart’s content! But do not abuse the rights of the innocent when you do so. The people of Canada have a right to rest, to be at peace, to feel safe and secure. No one has a right to interfere or interrupt it. Tread softly on my rights dear ‘Freedom Fighter’. You can only push people like me so far.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

Winter, according to Algonquin tradition, is a time of peace and appreciation of spirit – yours, mine and that of all our relations. We are instructed by Creator to be as quiet as we possibly can whilst pass the cold moons of winter. We do so to allow sacred Mother Earth time for rest so she can rejuvenate her energies properly. The so-called Freedom Convoy is disturbing the peace, not only of the sleeping land but also of many decent, kind-hearted, law-abiding people living in Algonquin territory. The supporters of the convoy don’t seem to give a damn about that fact.

I wonder just what kind of ‘freedom’ they want to defend. Whose freedom? Theirs only? How can an individual claiming to stand up for freedom feel righteous in interfering and obstructing the freedom of innocent people so callously and so cruelly as some of the convoy supporters have done? The leaders tell us the convoy is a peaceful one. Explain then, who among them is going out into the streets and businesses of the city, terrorizing innocent citizens?

The supporters of the convoy don’t seem to give a damn about the fact that some among them are violent and mean-spirited. They have forgotten that in a democracy, it’s the majority that rules, NOT the minority! A protest supporter declared on CBC Radio that Parliament Hill was the hill she was prepared to “die on”. The horns of gigantic trucks pierced the sky in the background, the peace flame shivered meters away, a freedom fighter had spoken and the tone of the protest was set!

There are convoy supporters on the Hill at this moment who believe that Macdonald’s plan to ‘kill the Indian in the child’ was a good one. Some of them believe that Donald Trump is a saviour sent to earth by God to make America great again. Some deny that the Holocaust ever occurred! Hundreds of the protesters have hate in their hearts for black folks, for government, for peace and for democracy. But still, Ottawans brought coffee and food to pay homage to the protesters. “These people are the salt of the earth,” they declared in defending their actions.

Let’s consider a possible outcome to this protest. Let’s imagine (though it’s not possible) that in the end the protesters win and all mandates connected to COVID are scrapped. The convoy participants go home happy as larks only to discover that a new convoy, much larger than theirs ever was rolls into Ottawa, spearheaded by truckers who believe certain healthcare mandates are keeping Canadians safe. The new protesters state, “We are not going anywhere until sensible mandates are restored.” What would the supporters of the Freedom Convoy do then? Keep in mind the fact that a vast majority of truckers in Canada support most of the mandates the governments have put in place.

The war on COVID is a war not yet won. The vile virus plaguing Canada’s provinces has found an ally in the people of the Freedom Convoy.

To them I say this:
Stop behaving as if YOU are the centre of the universe. You are not! You are no more and no less special than I am, nor are you more special than any other human being anywhere on this planet. Your ‘rights’ do not override mine! The protestors’ definition of ‘freedom’ has a repulsive stench around it. It reaches my home and sickens me, though I live 135 km from the city. Theirs is the kind of freedom I don’t want anything to do with.

It’s winter! The season calls on you to go home (and stay there). You’ve made your point. Live with the results!

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)

Freedom
Albert Dumont©

The “Freedom Convoy” 10,000 strong
Rolled into Canada’s capital
Like the army of 1945
Entering the City of Berlin

The Freedom Convoy, 10,000 strong
Bombing the City of Ottawa
With the screaming horns of gigantic trucks
Protesters, claiming that Parliament Hill
Is the hill they’ll “die on”

The Freedom Convoy, 10,000 strong
Bringing to the City, their gift
“The sound of freedom”
Bringing their logic
“My body, my choice”

The Freedom Convoy, 10,000 strong
Canada, a land of 38,000,000 souls
“Freedom”
Who defines it
Is it as defined by thousands
Or is it as defined by millions
Like the army of 1945
Who entered the City of Berlin

Dedicated to and inspired by Justin Ranger
For his siblings, nieces and nephews
© South Wind (Albert Dumont)

He was a good brother
Loving, supportive, gracious, funny
To you, he was the wings
Of your human heart
He was the bear, the wolf, the turtle
And the smoke, arising
From a thick braid of smouldering sweetgrass
To you, he was all of those things
And so much more
And now you mourn his passing

But do not despair too much, for
He is still there, a good brother
Bringing forth his kindness and his generosity
His gentleness and the great respect
He had for the women and girls
Of all the First Nations Peoples

Those ways, uniquely of his spirit
Are present near you
On the branches of every pine tree
And in every breath you take
Bring them once more into your heart
Those powerful, energy filled wings of his
Do not despair
Celebrate instead that he was your brother

Justin Ranger often looked at the wrongs of his past perpetrated by him at a time in his life when a reckless lifestyle was the only one made available to him by society. He had the wisdom though to keep the negatives from long ago close by, to act as constant reminders of what to steer clear of in his future decisions and deeds. He had no desire whatsoever to going back to a life of nonsense. Justin understood the meaning of honour. Very few among us could live up to the standards Justin held as sacred ingredients defining what it is to be an ‘honourable man’. He was much loved because of it! Most everyone who knew him regarded him as a generous, empathetic and hardworking hero, who in recent months, seemed to carefully place his spiritual beliefs in the forefront of all his worldly decisions. Yes, he was all of these things and more, yet Justin Ranger, at age 37, is now deceased. Dead from an apparent drug overdose. It is difficult to process.

I first met Justin at Millhaven Institution (M.I. maximum security). At the time of our first meeting, Justin was in segregation, having been sent there by prison officials for his part in a fist fight. Justin and I connected! Although he wasn’t the leader of the ‘Indian Brotherhood’ at that time (he did become the leader about a year later), he still pulled a lot of weight with the inmates, not just the ones of Indigenous bloodlines but also others regardless of colour or cultural background. It was Justin I turned to the most to stand with me in establishing rehabilitation goals for the Indigenous inmates on the range. In my view, there are two kinds of people in this world: you are either a leader or you are a follower. Justin Ranger was a leader, a brave one, willing to listen and respect the ‘common sense’ in the words of those in an opposing camp. He was at the right place at the right time. If not for Justin’s leadership at M.I., I truly believe that blood of guards and I’m sure of many inmates, would have been spilled if not for him working with me in calming things down after a young Indigenous inmate was shot dead during a violent outbreak which took place in the prison gymnasium shortly after I began working at M.I.

Justin Ranger wanted a better life for himself, one of sobriety and one providing a close spiritual relationship with the forest. I contributed to his spiritual betterment by introducing him to Algonquin friends who allowed him to visit with them in the deep woods of our territory. Justin loved the experience! Before setting out to the forest, Justin stayed a couple of nights at my home. I saw firsthand how ambitious he was and how much he wanted to mentor and present himself as a role model for young Indigenous men who had lost their way. I don’t know what went wrong in the final hours of his life. I wish he had reached out to me!

Somebody who loved Justin wrote on Facebook “I’d happily take his place if it meant bringing him back.” All of you who read those words please have no doubt in hearts of hearts that Justin Ranger would have become a great teacher and leader in his senior years if only he were still alive. We have lost a good man. Let us not allow him to have died in vain. Let us do honourable things in his memory. Let us honour him for the super friend that he was. There will never be another like him. 

Hunt well Justin, in that sacred place you find yourself in now, my friend. May your feasting plate be filled with game prepared for you by the Grandmother who welcomed you home. Be forever at peace and know that I will sit with you again in the circle at some point in the future. Keep the fire burning bright, Justin Ranger “Good Friend”, we will never forget you.

Note: There will be a memorial for Justin in the spring after the snow is gone. All who respected this remarkable young man are invited. Stay tuned for info.

Keep the Circle Strong,

South Wind (Albert Dumont)