Mr. Speaker, I rise today to speak to Bill C-30, the budget implementation act, 2021, no. 1.
Before I do so, I want to take the opportunity afforded to members in this place to speak to another issue of national importance.
Canada has stood in mourning with the survivors of residential schools and their families after the recent tragic discovery of 215 children in an unmarked grave at the former Kamloops residential school. Last week, I was asked by the former chief of the Tk'emlúps first nation, Manny Jules, to read a poem of healing for the nation, and I ask members for their understanding and patience as I do so now. I hope from the way he read it to me, that I can do this justice.
This poem is entitled Monster, a Residential School Experience, by Dennis Saddleman:
I HATE YOU RESIDENTIAL SCHOOLI HATE YOUYOU’RE A MONSTERA HUGE HUNGRY MONSTERBUILT WITH STEEL BONESBUILT WITH CEMENT FLESHYOU’RE A MONSTERBUILT TO DEVOURINNOCENT NATIVE CHILDRENYOU’RE A COLD-HEARTED MONSTERCOLD AS THE CEMENT FLOORSYOU HAVE NO LOVENO GENTLE ATMOSPHEREYOUR UGLY FACE GROOVED WITH RED BRICKSYOUR MONSTER EYES GLAREFROM GRIMY WINDOWSMONSTER EYES SO EVILMONSTER EYES WATCHINGTERRIFIED CHILDRENCOWER WITH SHAMEI HATE YOU RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL I HATE YOUYOU’RE A SLIMY MONSTER OOZING IN THE SHADOWS OF MY PASTGO AWAY LEAVE ME ALONEYOU’RE FOLLOWING ME FOLLOWING ME WHEREVER I GOYOU’RE IN MY DREAMS IN MY MEMORIESGO AWAY MONSTER GO AWAYI HATE YOU YOU’RE FOLLOWING MEI HATE YOU RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL I HATE YOUYOU’RE A MONSTER WITH HUGE WATERY MOUTHMOUTH OF DOUBLE DOORSYOUR WIDE MOUTH TOOK MEYOUR YELLOW STAINED TEETH CHEWEDTHE INDIAN OUT OF MEYOUR TEETH CRUNCHED MY LANGUAGEGRINDED MY RITUALS AND MY TRADITIONSYOUR TASTE BUDS BECAME BITTERWHEN YOU TASTED MY RED SKINYOU SWALLOWED ME WITH DISGUSTYOUR FACE WRINKLED WHEN YOUTASTED MY STRONG PRIDEI HATE YOU RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL I HATE YOUYOU’RE A MONSTERYOUR THROAT MUSCLES FORCED MEDOWN TO YOUR STOMACHYOUR THROAT MUSCLES SQUEEZED MY HAPPINESSSQUEEZED MY DREAMSSQUEEZED MY NATIVE VOICEYOUR THROAT BECAME CLOGGED WITH MY SACRED SPIRIT YOU COUGHED AND YOU CHOKEDFOR YOU CANNOT WITH STAND MYSPIRITUAL SONGS AND DANCESI HATE YOU RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL I HATE YOUYOU’RE A MONSTERYOUR STOMACH UPSET EVERY TIME I WET MY BEDYOUR STOMACH RUMBLED WITH ANGEREVERY TIME I FELL ASLEEP IN CHURCHYour stomach growled at me every time I broke the school rulesYour stomach was full You burpedYou felt satisfied You rubbed your belly and you didn’t careYou didn’t care how you ate up my native CultureYou didn’t care if you were messyif you were piggyYou didn’t care as long as you ate up my IndiannessI hate you Residential School I hate youYou’re a monsterYour veins clotted with cruelty and tortureYour blood poisoned with loneliness and despairYour heart was cold it pumped fear into meI hate you Residential School I hate youYou’re a monsterYour intestines turned me into foul entrailsYour anal squeezed mesqueezed my confidencesqueezed my self respectYour anal squeezedthen you dumped meDumped me without parental skillswithout life skillsDumped me without any form of characterwithout individual talentswithout a hope for success
I hate you Residential School I hate youYou’re a monsterYou dumped me in the toilet thenYou flushed out my good naturemy personalitiesI hate you Residential School I hate youYou’re a monster………I hate hate hate youThirty three years later I rode my chevy pony to KamloopsFrom the highway I saw the monsterMy Gawd! The monster is still aliveI hesitated I wanted to drive onbut something told me to stopI parked in front of the Residential Schoolin front of the monsterThe monster saw me and it stared at meThe monster saw me and I stared backWe both never said anything for a long timeFinally with a lump in my throatI said, “Monster I forgive you.”The monster broke into tearsThe monster cried and cried His huge shoulders shookHe motioned for me to come forward He asked me to sit on his lappy stairs The monster spoke You know I didn’t like my Government Father I didn’t like my Catholic Church MotherI’m glad the Native People adopted me They took me as one of their own They fixed me up Repaired my mouth of double doors Washed my window eyes with cedar and fir boughs They cleansed me with sage and sweetgrass Now my good spirit lives The Native People let me stay on their land They could of burnt me you know instead they let me live so People can come here to school restore or learn about their culture The monster said, “I’m glad the Native People gave me another chanceI’m glad Dennis you gave me another chance The monster smiled I stood up I told the monster I must go Ahead of me is my life. My people are waiting for me I was at the door of my chevy ponyThe monster spoke, “Hey you forgot something I turned around I saw a ghost child running down the cement steps It ran towards me and it entered my body I looked over to the monster I was surprised I wasn’t looking at a monster anymoreI was looking at an old school In my heart I thought This is where I earned my diploma of survival I was looking at an old Residential School who became my elder of my memories I was looking at a tall building with four stories stories of hope stories of dreams stories of renewaland stories of tomorrow
That, again, is a poem called Monster, A Residential School Experience, by Dennis Saddleman. Again, I was asked by a the former chief of the Tk‘emlúps first nation, Manny Jules, to read that as a way to help the nation heal. When he read it to me, it was quite emotional and I hope I did that justice.
The government continues to move forward on this file, something that is very important, and it is time for action. As an opposition, we have asked for a clear action plan by July 1 on calls to action 71 through 76 of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission report. All first nations communities across Canada need that healing. It is time we listen to them and follow their lead and have action.