I am a survivor... of genocide. Because I know a lot
that didn't make it. So many committed suicide when they came out
of that school. And, a lot of us turned
to alcohol to forget... and died from it. ♪ ♪ [country] My name is Sarain Fox. I'm an Indigenous
artist and activist. It's almost summertime
in the heat of the COVID-19 pandemic, and I'm on my way
to my reserve, in Batchewana, to see my Auntie,
Mary Belle. I live 800 kilometres away,
near Toronto, and I imagine she
is waiting for me on her old rocker
in Goulais Bay. We're losing our
elders right now, and our elders are
our knowledge keepers. Our women
lead our families. My Auntie is a residential
school survivor and is our oldest
surviving matriarch. She's a
grandmother to me. She holds the
family's history: our stories, our trauma,
our truth. She does the work that
women have always done... they carry life. My Auntie worked in
the trenches of the Truth and Reconciliation
Commission, and documenting the stories
of residential school survivors for
our communities. She carries a lot of
truth and a lot of pain. And now that she's an elder,
she's only focused on how the story will
carry on for us. We are people of our land,
and people of our stories. We didn't record them. Instead, we made
the effort to listen. My job, as the
youngest in our family, is to carry on her ways,
her stories, and her dreams. ♪ Alright... Special request. Whoa, wait.
She's reclining. I've actually tried to buy
her a chair several times. So, put it right here. What she wanted was
a very specific chair. She wanted a
La-Z-Boy recliner that had heat and massage. Hi, you ready
for your surprise? You can just
leave this here. Oh, hi.
(laughing) - Alright.
- More and more. So, just watch this guy
and then you should be good. Alright. (gasps)
Oh, my goodness! - Did you get that, my girl?
- Yeah! Oh, my gosh!
That's beautiful! This was the last one
with heat and massage... in the whole country. Really?
Oh, yes. Oh, my gosh.
Oh, that's for sure. This is gonna be my
new way of dancing. And if you wanted to,
you could...lay. [voice vibrating]
Oh, yes. Oh, oh, my. Oh, can you hear my voice? (laughing) In regards to COVID-19,
she just let us just like take over her space and, she felt really safe
right away. ♪ We're here at my
Auntie Mary's house and, I'm gonna set up camp,
so I'm gonna be here for the next
couple weeks and... growing up, this was always
my favourite place to be, so... We're gonna set up
home, home base. This is not regular
times on the res. This is a
pandemic-centric view of what's happening right now. We had things we needed to
do because of COVID-19 that we wouldn't have
otherwise have had to do. That included
getting tested, talking about parameters,
meeting with the Chief to understand the situation. There actually was
a reported case two days before we got
up here and so, because of that, some
of the restrictions that had been lifted were
actually reinstated. So, we arrived in
a different space. The Chief was very
concerned and asked us to get COVID tested again. ♪ (TV dialogue) Oh, look at this.
No squeaking. No squeaking. Sarain:
(indistinct speaking) I experienced the
worst racism as a kid, when I was in... when I was in
residential school. They had no pity about
telling us little kids that there were devils
on our reserve and, persuaded us not to
return to our reserve when we left school. In my mind, I figured,
oh, my god, why do they keep
saying that? You know, my mum
was never like that. My mum never drank,
she never swore. She was a good mum. They abolished our
culture because that's what they
were afraid of. Our spirituality
is very, very... powerful and, it's a time
for us to speak up and get this history
straightened out. Well, I could
say a lot more, but I don't know
how much I can... how much they allow
me to say anything. Sarain: Who's "they"?
Mary: Government. Sarain: You can say
whatever you want. Mary: 'Cause government
usually will make you take this off. Sarain: I don't work
for the government. (laughing) Sarain: The CBC is a
public broadcaster and they're interested in truth,
so you don't have to feel like you have to hide your truth. ♪ Mary: My mother,
all she said to me is, "You're gonna go somewhere
where there are going to be a lot of girls and
you're going to have lots, and lots of friends." Being seven or eight, I really never put a
full thought to it. And she didn't
bring it up again, not a word of anything. Nothing.
Not even the day we left. As young as I was,
I got all-- I was all happy about it. I figured, oh,
I'm going for a train ride! My little brother, Sonny,
was along, too. He was just waiting for the,
for the train to pull in. ♪ And when it did, my mother helped us
on the train. Him and I were
sitting together, she made sure. Soon, we could hear
the conductor saying, "All aboard!
All aboard!" She said,
"You will be right back. And I'll be waiting
here for you." It doesn't even dawn on me
my mother's getting off the train, going to
wait for us to come back. The train pulled out.
I'm thinking to myself, oh, this is a really
nice train ride. I'm all excited. After a little while,
I start thinking, this train is
going fairly fast. I wonder when it's
going to turn around. I'm looking outside,
watching the scenery going by and,
daylight is starting to fade. By then,
I'm starting to realize this train is not turning around
like it's supposed to. It started getting scary. Oh, and that's your mum? Sarain: Yeah, she's texting you. "Okay, Auntie..." "On our way." Sarain: She's coming?
Mary: That's what she's saying. Sarain: Hold on. Let's say
'hi' to her before we wrap. Mary: "On our way." <i> Phone: Hi, my baby girl.
How are you doing?</i> Hi, Mom! Hold on. I'm going
to give Auntie the phone. I'll put it right here. One sec.
Can you pass me that cup? Mary: Oh, my gosh!
(laughing) - Well, hi!
-<i> Are you having fun?</i> Oh, yeah.
Oh, definitely. You know, Sarain, she's
always full of surprises. (chuckles) <i> I certainly do.</i> I'm going to give her a
new name in Anishinabe. I'm gonna call
her Surprise Girl. (laughing) <i> Okay, I just
love, love, love,</i> <i> love seeing you, my Auntie.</i> Aw! <i> And, I am, I am going
to make my way there.</i> <i> Make sure you smudge,
beauty.</i> Yes, we just
finished smudging. -<i> Alright, I love you.</i>
- I love you too, my girl. - You take care.
-<i> I will.</i> Okay.
(laughing) Mary: Aw... Sarain: My mom is her person. My mom is the one who first
heard all of those stories, who was her therapist so,
my mom is... is my Auntie's girl. And, for my mom,
my Auntie is her only parent that she's
had for a long time now. ♪ Mary: As it
started to get dark, my little brother, Sonny,
started pulling on my sleeve, crying, "I want my mommy.
Sissy, I want my mommy." And, and I'm
thinking to myself, oh, my gosh, how am I going
to comfort this little guy? I'm having a
hard time, myself, trying to figure out,
where am I? Where am I going? And then, finally,
it came to a standstill at this place,
Spanish, Ontario. I'm sitting there and
looking at this conductor and I'm trying to tell him,
"This is not where I get off." And he's looking
at the names and, "Oh, yes, this is
where you get off." And, all pitch black out. I was just trembling. Sonny was just
clinging to me. His little hands
were just like, they were right
in me like that. This man starts
giving us orders, "Get in! Get in there!
Get in that van!" It looked like a really big,
black van and... we were in that van about,
maybe a half hour and, as we approached,
you could see little, tiny lights way far away,
and that kind of gave me a little glimmer of hope. Then the doors opened. And I could hear
this woman's voice, and then soon
there was another one, then another one,
and I figured, oh, well, there's
women's voices so, you know,
that can't be too bad. A fight took place because
they were pulling me out of the van and I didn't want to
leave my little brother there. And I said,
"He's coming with me." And they said,
"No, he's not. He's going over to
the boys' school." And, pried his
little hands off of me. By then, I started to cry
because I felt I had that responsibility to
take care of him. And, what am I
going to do because now I've lost control. They took me up
two flights of stairs, where they had
the dormitories. They gave you
school clothes, night stuff, and towel
and stuff like that. And they took all the clothes
that you wore to go there and she brought me
to this bed and it's all dark in there. And, she said, "Get in bed
and go right to sleep," and I just couldn't sleep.
I was worried about Sonny. And I figured to myself, oh, my, god... What place is this?
Is this hell? This is gonna be fun!
You got your Auntie there. - So nice to meet her.
- That's so awesome. I'm like hosting
from my res, basically. Just on the other
side of the tracks. Auntie, do you want
to come over here? <i> Crew: One minute, guys,
one minute.</i> Sarain: Don't pressure me! I had summer solstice right,
smack in the middle of this shoot week so, I was live
hosting the Summer Solstice Indigenous Festival, which
usually happens in Ottawa. And Auntie watched me in
this new pandemic reality of how I do my work. <i> Crew: Five, four,
three, two, one.</i> <i> And, you're live.</i> Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, now that is how you kick off
a festival evening. Oh, my goodness. Thank you so much,
Cody Coyote. Guys, shout out to all of
our matriarchs out there, all of our elders. I got my oldest matriarch,
my Auntie Mary, here. Want to say 'hi', Auntie? Bonjour, bonjour, bonjour. (Sarain laughs) ♪ Happening in the background
this whole time is that my mom needed to be here. I was very aware within the
first couple days that I was not gonna have the emotional
capacity to interview Auntie and then be her safe person. ♪ And, because my mom was
going to interact with Auntie, she was COVID tested. ♪ (inaudible speaking) My mom's an elder, herself,
so she's been under the same kind of precautions, not
allowed to see anyone. This is her first outing. She drove all night
just to get here. ♪ Oh, my goodness!
Oh, my goodness. You made it, my girl. Now I know what it feels
like when I used to travel and everybody used to worry. Make sure that I
got there safe. Wow, wow. It feels so good
to just hold you. Yes. ♪ Mary: After she walked away,
I'm laying there, laying there,
thinking, you know, having all these things
going through my mind. Then I can hear
somebody crying, but it's all dark,
you can't see. I'm turning around
like this in the bed. Somebody's
crying over there, somebody's crying over here. And then,
I finally fell asleep. I think it must have
been breaking daylight. Clang, clang, clang! My blanket just,
whoosh, "Get up!" "Get on your
knees right now!" Looking around,
everybody's on their knees so, I got on my knees.
It was a long prayer. The girls that were around me
like that were kind of signaling to me to listen, just to hurry up
and get dressed. [lower voice] "Otherwise,
they're going to either punish you or
they'll strap you." Everything was low key
because you could never get caught asking
girls questions. So, I'll watch the girls
and see how they do things, and that was a big help. When it was time to eat,
this great, big, burly teacher
would come over and, "When that bell rings,
you get in line with the girls and you get into the
refectory and eat." But, it isn't proper food,
not even for a pig so, I told her that. And, I said,
"I want my mother." And, she said, "Well, your
mother's not coming for you. Your mother abandoned you." The minute she came for me,
I stuck my foot and started kicking her. And, soon, there was a
couple more teachers that came to help her. But, that was the time
I started rebelling, but it didn't
do me any good. They finally said,
"Cut her hair." They put me up
on a chair and... she just took these
great, big sheers and she started cutting my hair. And I could never,
never, never forgive them. That is such a big,
big spiritual part of us, is our hair. And, all the girls were
standing there watching her. I just kind of
subdued and figured, my mother's never
going to find me now. She's never going to
find me because I look just like
the rest of them. And really, that's what
residential school was, to destroy you,
cause you to be nobody and to have no identity. And especially
when she did that, I became like... you're my enemy
from now on. And did she strap you? Did she
physically abuse you? Oh, yeah. Different times
that I was there. And I would figure I
would take my stance. And she wanted me to cry,
and I wouldn't cry. ♪ - They're pitted.
- Oh, yeah. With this [knocks] the hull
is really thick up here. The Chief said he was going
out to work on the boat... Go for a
water drainage, hey? ...And so, we're like,
okay, great. Plus, being outside right
now is actually a lot safer than being inside
someone else's space, so any opportunity to
be outside with my crew, with lots of dynamic
space was important. So, that's the cooling system
for the engine. People like Mary have
been able to share different thoughts on
different things that really, are integral to our
survival as a people. She is well respected. She's been through
a lot with her... residential
school experience, when they removed
our people and tried to take the Indian
out of the child. And, she hung on, and I've
stood with her many times in those places where it wasn't
easy to defend who we are. So, I really cherish the
things that the elders tell me. Like this place here
that we're at today, this is a really sacred place
where the sturgeons gather. It's a place where
the sturgeons live. And sturgeons,
they're as old as we are. And, we as Anishinabe, we have the job of
looking after the earth. And all of our relatives,
as I look around here - the water, the fish,
the trees, the plants, the birds, all of those
animals on land - the sturgeon, name,
("nah-may") has even more of a
responsibility to look after the
land under the water. So, they do the
same thing as us, but they do it
under the water. And this was the area that
we promised to look after, to the creator. And through it all, even in
the face of the oppression, we still have elders that
have been able to maintain and even enhance those
original understandings, and one of those is,
is Mary. Mary has always went that
extra mile to defend our, our inheritance, and our
inheritance is all of this. ♪ Mary: The first Sunday of
every month, for two hours, they would select a table
for me and my brother. Sonny didn't come at first,
for the longest time. But, Jimmy did. My brother Jimmy
was older than I was. And, Jim was there
two year's prior to... to when we entered school. And, he had already... been so abused that he
submitted to their ways. So, he didn't have a lot
of conversation with me. And then, finally,
he just stopped coming. We had to go to communion
every week at the boys' church,
and he was altar boy, and I can smell that... smell, liquor or
wine or something. And he was almost
shaking like that, giving... I, I didn't think
too much of it then, about the
liquor or anything. But then I started hearing
it from the girls that the priest was getting
the boys drunk on wine. I didn't know he was
being abused that way. And some of the girls, too,
because they used to get the older girls at times
to go and clean up over at the church,
in the boys' school. And, the priests used to do
the same thing to the girls. And then when the girls
got pregnant and kicked out of school,
everything fell silent. Everything fell silent
because this girl's missing. Sarain: She was
impregnated by the priest? Mary: Oh, yes. Yes. And there were babies
found in those walls. Why were there
babies in the wall? Mary: Well, it would
have been scandalous... for the school, had anyone
found out about it. ♪ So, we just got back from meeting the Chief
and interviewing him. And, we got back here to her
house and Auntie has gone. Her van is gone.
She's not here. And we're supposed to be
doing interviews with her, and this is absolutely
typical Auntie style. She does whatever she wants
whenever she wants. Maybe she left a note. Okay. Auntie Mary was supposed
to come with us to the place of the sturgeons. And then she was not
feeling well enough. I don't even know. And I, I don't know... It actually made me really
nervous about the rest of the shoot, like, if she's
already too tired for us. What does this mean,
you know? And, I'm not gonna
risk my Auntie's health. What I'm interested in
right now is, how do we tell the stories
of our elders in a way that is slow enough? How do I push... to hear all of
the 84 years of... knowledge that
my Auntie holds? But, oh,
my goodness, look who's rolling
down in the road. ♪ So, what you can't see is
that my Auntie Mary's van is pulling in. My Uncle is pulling
in with a charger. What?!
Hi, River! Come give me a hug. Auntie loves her
grandchildren and she's always trying to get me
to hang out with them every time she's here.
So, River was there. Good to see you.
Do you remember me? Mhm. Him and I have a
special connection. We always have. So, I-- Auntie wanted
flower gardens and I had brought up
these planters so, I let him do the planting and
we did that for her. Oh. Which one?
You choose. Look at those
precious stones. Which side? The van that my
Auntie drives is a van that I drove
to Standing Rock. Well, it was my mom's van. And then it was my van
for about four years. And now she has it and
she can use it to take off whenever she wants,
in good fashion. I think when somebody
takes you away, takes you from your home,
tells you... you can't be who you are... can't speak your language, have your hair, see your parents... I think that when
that happens to you, you don't let anyone tell
you what to do ever again. Or that's at least, that's
how my family reacted. ♪ Part of that residential
school story is when I used to go home for
summer vacation, because you had a
family before res school. I remember that. We had birthdays,
we had a lot of things. We had the gatherings
at Christmas time. And then, each year I
was in that school, it got less, less... until I was out
of the picture. I was born in Garden River. Then we moved into
Sault Sainte Marie, and I remember so many
happy memories there. My mum worked every day, but weekends
we went everywhere. She'd take us
down to the park. She used to take us up
to the movie theater, and every chance she had,
she would treat us. And in winter time, we'd go
sliding on that big hill. We had a big dog and that
dog used to follow us all over the place.
(laughs) Just happy times. It was just like
a family, family. I don't ever
remember being sad, threatened in any way,
when I lived at home... before I went in school. My mom was very loving,
very loving to us. Did you ever feel that,
abandoned by her? No, I loved my mum
very, very, very much. Almost to the point
where I idolized my mom. She was a good mom. Very good. When we talk
about the story, I think about her and how
terrible it was for her... Yeah. ...to have to leave you,
and how she couldn't find a way to say
goodbye to you. Yeah, yeah. ♪ Sarain: In our way, we sit with
our elders while they live. We take the time to hear
their stories and honour who they are. There's a world
of women like her, elders who have
carried life. They bead our moccasins
and make us tea. We need to take the time to
hear them and to remember the stories they can
share while they're here. Stand with them,
or at the very least, just sit with them for a
few minutes every day. Are you gonna share
something with us? Yes. When I first
walked this way, I was on, on a
rough journey. I asked creator to
show me the way, to help me. So, I finally made it to the
Indian Friendship Centre in Toronto, where I
met the elders. And they immediately
took me under their wing. They spoke
about the culture. And the more the
teachings that they gave me, the more I felt this is what
I had been searching for. It all connected. And this is how I
got to be an elder, and it was meant to be
because I belong to the Sturgeon Clan. I didn't know all the
gifts that that sturgeon had waiting for me. But with all these gifts, I'm trying to live up to that,
to that image. ♪ I think maybe it was
around Thanksgiving. We were all playing out
in the backyard and... I seen a group of girls. One of the girls kind
of signaled over to me. I could tell that there
was something going on. One of them
finally said to me, "Hey, Mary, would you
be interested in... in what we're going to do? Well, we're
planning on running away." So, I'm kind of thinking,
getting suspicious. Why are they asking me? These are not like
my special friends. It started to
fester in my mind. Well, I only have
one year left because I'll be sixteen and I'm
going to be leaving. The pressure won't be as
hard on me because I'm liable to expose
a lot of stuff. And I was trying to resolve
it in a positive way, that even if I get caught,
I'm thinking... I can handle it. Yeah, I want to run away. When are you
going to do this? And they said, "When we
go for a walk tomorrow." When I went to
bed that night, I'm thinking about it still. It's heavy,
heavy on my mind. So, the next day,
sure enough, we get up early in
the morning again. And, did our duties,
our chores. And then by noon hour,
after lunch, she would ring this bell. It was time to
go for our walk. And we took
different little paths, just so we wouldn't be
noticed that we're together. But we had a waiting
spot out on the highway. As I'm going along the way,
I'm pretending I'm picking up things off the
ground and going further, and further out
to the highway. Girls were already
there and we said, "Well, we can't stay on the
highway because it's going to look
too obvious... so, let's go on the
railroad tracks." Every time we'd see a car,
we'd hide in a ditch. We thought we had
walked a long way from, from Spanish. And when we got to Massey,
OPP cars came. There were about
three of them. And we're just standing
there like sitting ducks. They knew right away
we were the runaways. The cop came out, he says,
"The school reported that you ran away and we
have to take you back." And the girls
just started to cry. They were afraid of
the consequences. Well, I was too,
and I said, "Please, don't take me
back there." And he said, "Because you're underage,
I have to take you back." By the time we got
back to the school, it was dark. About five, six teachers
came out and they were all happy, and greeting
the police and smiling. "Oh, they're all safe." That officer kept
on looking at me, and I think just my
facial expressions, letting this cop know
that this was phony. And then,
the cops left and... once that door
closed behind it, it was like hell on earth. ♪ Here's your
beloved Uncle Sonny. - Oh, look, Jimmy Bell.
- Yes. - Oh, let me see.
- Look at how cute he was. That's your dad. And that's when he
first attended school. - I think, in...
- Wow! ...1944, yes. That's so interesting
to see, you know. I know, I was just
all choked up when I first seen
those pictures. When did you first see
these guys? Recently? No, when the program
came in for the... Healing Foundation. And they started sending
away for the pictures and getting as much information
from the students and, yeah. This article is the... Ah, he did something. I don't know
what it was for. The Globe & Mail,
and this article is what inspired
this documentary. Oh. - Oh, really?
- Mhm. Come on.
Strong, strong woman. My Auntie outlived all of
her brothers and sisters. And, what's in-between
those pages is her guilt for being the
one who survived. And she says it over and
over again, is that, the reason they
didn't is because they just weren't
strong enough. And that's not
about just strength. What she's saying is that it was almost impossible
to not be broken. ♪ Mary: They made us
go up to this classroom, they sealed it off,
and they said, "For your running away,
you're not going to have anything
to eat for a week. You're not to
talk to one another. We're going to set up
individual rooms where you're going to be placed
individually in each room." They're yelling
and screaming at us, "This is not the end of it.
This is only the beginning!" So, when they locked
us in that room, it was all dark. And, I could hear
the girls crying, and they're crying,
and they're scared, and they're crying. And I don't know why,
I just couldn't cry. We were there all night. Finally, we heard these
clink, clang, this walk coming
towards the door. And then she'd call
one girl at a time. The day had passed. It was evening again and
I was the last one in that room. And then finally, she calls
me into her office and she keeps alls her,
like her weapons there, her straps and everything.
She said to me, "Oh, so you're the leader.
You're the brave one." And she was just
going on and on, trying to put me down
to the lowest level. And she beat me up
with that strap. I just froze like that.
I froze in one state. I went, I'm not
going to cry. And she beat me up
really, really bad. She put me in a room and
she wouldn't let me out of that room until some of the
bruises started going away. After the bruises
started going away, then she took me downstairs
and she had all the girls stand around, and she
took and she shaved me. She said, "This is what's
going to happen to you if any of you
ever, ever dare... to run away."
She says, "You are not to talk to her
for the rest of this term. She is to sit alone and you have
nothing to do with her." She did let me go
into the refectory, which is the dining room. But, I was not to eat the
same things that the girls ate. I didn't care what she
said about the food. I didn't like it anyways. And, she had this
table just for me, and all the
girls are facing me, like I was on display...
for the rest of the term. I was there eight years and, I left there
that June 1952. ♪ After I left
residential school, I went home and it was
like we were all strangers. It wasn't home anymore. I told my mother, I said,
"I'm leaving." And she says to me,
"Where are you going?" I said, "I don't know,
but I'm leaving. I'm going to work." And she said, "Okay,
I'm going with you." I was just so
happy that she... seemed to understand. And we went to the States, and we went down to Michigan. There was an ad in the
paper for a babysitter, so I figured, well, I can
do that in the meantime. Soon after that, however, I started meeting girls my age
and they were not Natives. They were all white girls. But yet, they took me
into their company. So, it was an amazing start. I didn't realize
it at the time, but they were
giving me a gift... a gift that I was
worth something. They lifted me and
made me a human being. They taught me about
love and friendship, trust. And the biggest, biggest
gift they gave me was when they taught me
how to drive. When I was behind the wheel,
they gave me freedom. As a teenager, I'd never,
never experienced that in life. And I was having so much fun. ♪ My Chief invited us to one
of our most sacred places. It's actually the place
his grandfather grew up. So, we went on a two-hour
trip up to a provincial park that we've
actually reclaimed, as our people. And my Auntie, she was
like completely at peace. ♪ (drumming & singing) Mary: There's nothing like
peace and quiet after a raging storm. In our teachings,
it says you have power when you truly forgive them. And for the longest time,
I would say, "Oh, yeah.
I forgive them," you know. I'd say it, but I
wouldn't really mean it. I'd go back to my old,
resentful ways towards them. But, there is a difference when you truly,
truly forgive them. You receive so much
love and peace... that I think I deserve. (chuckles) Sarain: The song he
sang was gifted to him. And it talks about... when a lot of
bad things happen, sometimes you question... how can there be
anything spiritual? How can there be a creator? How can there be anyone
here looking out for me if all these bad things
keep happening? And so, the song says,
"Where will I find my spirit?" And then the words back are, "You'll find your spirit in all
of the land around you." "Inside your heart.
On the other side." So, you're in
your ancestors, but you'll find your spirit
exactly where you are. And, I thought that
was a beautiful way, to sing us out. (vocal calls) ♪ And you're
understanding that? I think you do. Because I see a little
glisten in your eye. (chuckles) Sarain: She knew that I
wasn't ready to let her leave. But she looked me in the
eye and she acknowledged my fear, my deepest fear. ♪ Which is about
losing people. I keep telling people... when they get very,
very emotional about it... that... one day when I'm not here,
you're going to be even stronger because
you're going to say, "She did it. She did it." "I want to be just like her." (sniffles) My biggest fear is
losing my Mom and my Aunt. ♪ They're like the women
I grew up idolizing, the women I wanted my
whole life to be like them. Travel like them,
be free like them. Stand up for our
people like them. Have a sisterhood
like them, friendship. Connection. ♪ Don't cry, my girl. ♪ Sarain: I think that's the one
thing that people don't get, is that acknowledgement. It's like a living goodbye. ♪ So, I don't want
to just document. I want to remember. I want to remember her
while she's still here. And I want her to
see her own story. I hope she gets
to see this doc. I want her to see it and
I want her to let it go. And I want her to be free. ♪ I know. And one good thing
about our culture... We don't die. (Sarain & Banakonda
laughing) Sarain: And scene.
Just kidding! ♪ Sarain: In my work lately,
I've been on a deep dive exploring cultural reclamation. We've survived because
we listened to our women and our elders. I want my Auntie to see
our communities flourish before she goes. For that, I must hear
her truth and absorb everything she can teach me
while she's here. She tells me
Indigenous women must take up leadership roles. We must be willing
to do the work and be dedicated to our communities, to help them heal and grow. There's an urgency
within my generation... to record what our elders
have to say while have them. Hear their languages
before they're lost, and learn the creation stories
that brought us here. Most Canadians don't live
with these fears and the persistent tension of loss. ♪ Inendi, she is absent. ♪ ♪
Thank you.
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