23 - Storyteller

A few weeks ago my family and I attended the MCNAA annual Powwow in Haverhill, MA. I love this powwow. Everyone is friendly, the dancing is great and they have nice interactive exhibits and cultural displays throughout the day. My children hung out at the tee pee and played Native American games. From a distance, I saw Mr. Barnaby, who I met last year, and in a way helped to launch my exploration over this past year. He was sporting beautiful new regalia and danced as wonderfully as ever. The setting at Plug Pond is pretty and the sun was shining after a week of rain. There were some new faces among the dancers as well other familiar ones. All in all a fun day for us.

Playing traditional games at the tee pee

The guest speaker at the powwow this year was a Mi'kmaq flute maker and story teller named David Sanipass. He is from  the Aroostook Band in Maine but spends time traveling and speaking throughout the world. He mentioned that he had not spoken at a powwow in a very long time. I was there close by listening, trying to soak in every word that he spoke. I was especially interested because he brought with him and played a variety of his own hand crafted flutes, and the musician in me was captivated.

Mr. Sanipass had some big messages that day and spoke of many large ideas and important things. I will recall the things that ring true to me but there were many others that passed through as well. He spoke of kindness. How important it was for people to simply show an act of kindness to each other. I have heard this same message several times in different forms since this day from others as well, so, I have been working on this in myself. It is a message that seems to be trying to reach me. Kindness is a powerful thing and it spreads when you put it out there.

He spoke a lot about how people do not take the time to listen to the stories and he feared that many were just not ready for the messages and in turn to advance spiritually. This may be true, but there was a time when many listened. This was when he played his songs. It is an amazing thing when people in the midst of doing other things, just stop and listen. There are no words, but something gets through. Something just hits the spirit and you know that what you are hearing is important.

Mr. David Sanipass playing one of his handmade flutes

He mentioned before he played one of his beautiful flutes, that as spirits, we would be known in the afterlife by our songs. I love this thought. I have dwelled on its meaning often since I heard him say this. As a singer, and one who is surrounded by so many musicians and students learning to communicate through song, this rings so true to me. Actually, I think this is in all of us and doesn't have to be learned. Most of us are moved by music in some way if we let it happen and don't try to control it. Just watch a baby move to music. It's instinct. It's just conventions that are taught. In history, song has often been considered to be a higher kind of speech because it does come closer to spirituality. In Christianity, the angels sing. There's something to this idea I think. That day when Mr. Sanipass played, I'm not sure if he knew it, but we were listening, and the power of the song he played came through loud and clear.

I spoke to Mr. Sanipass later that day and thanked him for his message and his songs. He was very kind and took time to show my daughter a magic trick. She was shy, but thrilled.

The music in the slideshow above is by A Tribe Called Mi'kmaq and is from their album, We Honor the Water available on i tunes.

22 -Congratulations!

Congratulations to all Mi'kmaq friends and relatives in Newfoundland! Yesterday, the Qalipu Band finally received federal recognition and takes it rightful place among the First Nation People of Canada. The Mi'kmaq in Newfoundland had not been officially recognized by the federal government of Canada although there have been people of the first nations in the province for thousands of years. This was a long, hard fight for them and this is a happy day!!! Well done to all of you who worked so hard for so long.  If you listen, I bet you can hear the celebrations from wherever you are in the world. Great news!!!!!

21 - Grandfathers

Their names are etched in my mind. Pierre, Germain, Joseph (old Joe), Francois, his brother Gabriel, John, John Henry and John Robert.  I am speaking of my Mi'kmaq grandfathers, the Lejeune men. I have read about their movements, where they settled, fled, and in my mind imagined their feelings based on what I learned. This knowledge is definitely not usual. I doubt there are many that can go back so many generations with details like the ones we are so fortunate to have as their descendants. We have this information because there are others that have taken the time and searched countless hours providing us with that which is now so dear to our hearts.

A lot of what we do know of these Lejeune men and women comes from church records. The Mi'kmaq were converted to Christianity early on with the baptism of their Grand Chief Membertou in 1620. The Jesuits converted many and as is important in this case, kept records of their sacraments. I have to hand it to them, because throughout the generations, they were devoted to receiving the sacraments when they could. This is largely how we know their movements and it allows us to piece together their stories as much as possible centuries later. While the conversion to Christianity appears to have been fairly amicable and not quite as bloody as other native nation conversions, it still appears to have been a rocky road at times.

There are traces of these men far back. One writing, which was originally in French, speaks of Pierre Lejeune as a type of Courier de Bois and it refers to him as "an espace du sauvage." The exact meaning of this phrase is not known, but it is translated loosely as "a type of savage." He fled into the woods when he refused to bring his people "fire water" and disappeared from the men who were looking for him. A valuable skill that was due to his Mi'kmaq upbringing.

In the Bras d'Or area, there is one grandfather in particular that some of us feel close to our hearts. His name is Francois Lejeune. Many of the Lejeune descendants, including me, come through his line. I also come through his brother Gabriel's line as a granddaughter as well.  I wonder if our attachment to Francois is because we have a little more of his story so to speak. He has left us with information that allows us to piece it together and in turn know him a little better than the others.

Francois was the son of Joseph Lejeune more affectionately known as "Old Joe."  His family spent time abroad in exile, but he was born in 1772 in Cape Breton. He was a farmer and owned a large plot of land in what is now Little Bras d'Or but was then called French Village. A portion of this land remains in the possession of some of his descendants to this very day.

Last year, the Chief of the Bras d'Or Indian Village Band Association, Nancy Swan, was kind to give me a link to a magazine article which mentions our common grandfather by name. The article in its entire form comes from Cape Breton's Magazine and can be found at this link:  http://capebretonsmagazine.com/modules/publisher/item.php?itemid=3694  It is an entry from the Journal of French Bishop Plessis' journey to Cape Breton in 1815, where he intended to visit the Mi'kmaq of the area. The portrait that the Bishop paints of the inhabitants of French Village is not flattering, in fact, he paints them to be lost heathens who engage in all types of debauchery. Knowing this history as I do now, there is always the Mi'kmaq version of events to be considered and that is definitely the case here. The article states,

"Francois Lejeune, the most prosperous inhabitant of the place, had prepared his house to lodge the bishop and the four ecclesiastics; a new small barn was to serve as a church and the portable chapel was set up immediately." pg. 54

The bishop goes on to speak of the people of the village and says "There is probably no place in the diocese of Quebec where the the catholic religion has fallen so low." page 54 The truth of the state of the  Catholic flock of Mi'kmaq on the island is something else in fact and has more to do with the fact that these people were abandoned by the church for a long period of time. The Bishop mentions that the people of the French Village had not seen a priest in four years and then they only saw a priest once per year before that for a period of eight days.  Later in the article, there is a statement that comes from the Mi'kmaq themselves in a neighboring village when they asked the Bishop for a missionary.  The Bishop says "....we were obliged to listen to their request and their lamentations on their need for a missionary," page 58 This was the recorded request of the Mi'kmaq:

 "We live like dogs, in danger of dying without the sacraments. Our children are ignorant of their religion. No priest speaks our language. Our elders have not heard a sermon in fifty years. What have we done to be abandoned in such a way? My father, will you do like the others and leave us without hope of bettering our future." page 58


The response was "These words were heart rendering. The bishop (he refers to himself here) understood them and promised to meet their request in a few years, provided they get used to paying their tithes more punctually than they did to Mr. Lejamtel  who will, from now on, spend two weeks with them each year rather than just one, until further notice." page 58  Later in the article, it is noted that Mr. Lejamtel did not speak the Mi'kmaq language.


I have to admit that when I first read the article, I was not feeling fondness for the Bishop, especially as Francois Lejeune had apparently worked hard to get things ready for him, probably awaiting the day with much anticipation. This is perhaps more importantly a glimpse into the real and changing world of the Mi'kmaq in the early 19th century and the attitudes that prevailed at the time.

Fur bag once owned by Francois Lejeune
and containing the original land grant

Making this man Francois Lejeune all the more real to us is the fact that he had the foresight to place his original land grant in a fur bag so that his family would know that it was important. This fur bag has been handed down through the generations and recently was given to the Nova Scotia Museum by its owner Mr. John Brennick, a Lejeune descendant. He allowed descendants of the family to photograph this bag this year and one of the photos was passed on to me. Due to the fragile state of the bag, it was not allowed to be opened, so it is possible that as it is examined by the Nova Scotia Museum that additional important documents may be revealed inside.

In addition to the bag, there is also a record of a protest of a name change forced upon him by the fairly new British government. Francois wanted to retain the name of Lejeune but was forced to change it to the English equivalent of Young, the name still used by his descendants today.

Last Will and Testament of Francois Lejeune

There is a last will and testament and on it is my G3 grandfather's name, John. He was granted a dollar as were most of his brothers and sisters. He is mentioned again when Francois recommends him with his sister Rachel and brother Philip to his wife if she should choose to bequeath the estate to one of them at her death.

Earlier this summer, I visited Little Bras d'Or and as we walked the grounds of St Joseph's Church, where so many of our family's records were kept, I wondered where the original grant had been. It turns out that I was staring right at it, or at least a portion of it.


That day I also found the site of my great grandfather, John Robert Young's home where my grandmother lived for a time growing up. This is the house in which my mother was born. It was located on a small lane named Young Road on what was once known as the Gannon Road. This house still stands today and relatives that we questioned in the area told us that at one time there were wigwams in the woods behind the home. At John Robert's death, the home was passed on to John Charles Young ,or Baba, as he was spoken of that day. The house remains in the family today but stands boarded up as you can see in the picture below.

John Robert Young's home on what was then Gannon Road

Just today, as I finished this post, I stumbled upon two more documents that reveal more of my Lejeune grandfathers. They were there all along, I had just missed them in the piles of papers I am accumulating on this amazing clan of mine. A will of Joseph Lejeune, where he names Gabriel Lejeune his heir, and a marriage certificate from  the Fortress of Louisbourg in 1754 naming Joseph Lejeune and his bride Martine Le Roy. Keep it coming ancestors. I know you are at work out there. 

20 - Reflection

Next week, I will attend the MCNAA Annual Inter Tribal Powwow in Haverhill, MA. This event for me marks the one year anniversary of my journey to discover my ancestry and my first connection to the Mi'kmaq people. A few weeks ago, I  had the opportunity to speak about my journey at my church. Our pastor was traveling to visit his family in the mid west and he asked me to say something about it while he was gone. He has been following my blog and is one of the reasons I started it in the first place.

Last year, when I returned to the states with this new knowledge, Pastor seemed to be genuinely interested in this story. Unlike others that I told, his eyes didn't seem to glaze over when I started to speak of it, so I was comfortable telling him what I was learning. He had a Native American connection of sorts as well, but in a different way, so this may have been of interest for that reason. Throughout the year, he would often ask me about the things I was learning, and in March of this year, he said, "Why don't you write it all down in a book?" Maybe that will happen some day, but as I had no answers at that point, I decided on a blog as it was a way that I could write while I explored.

When he asked me to speak, I was happy to do so, although I wasn't sure what I would say. I spent the time  following his request gathering my thoughts about what I had learned, how I felt, and thinking about where it might take me. It was a nice way to end the first year of this journey. As I reflected on the year, looking back, I think the hardest thing for me to accept was the fact that I have a new identity. It is not that I am saying that this is all that I am or that I am denying any of the other wonderful parts of my heritage, but it has changed me and the way I view myself. I know for certain it has changed the way I view others. I am excited by this new history and I am proud of this heritage, but it was hard to learn I am connected to a culture that is in some ways so different from what I thought I was for so long. And then to be so disconnected from it makes it all the more strange. I will admit to feeling like an impostor at times. I can say however, that after this year, it is getting a bit easier to say "I am Mi'kmaq," and I do feel a bit less of a stranger in this nation than this time last year.

I thought about the fact that I have connected with people in the Mi'kmaq community. I have connected with relatives I didn't know I had. I have connected with people in Bras d'Or. I have visited Bras d'Or. I have learned large parts of the history of my ancestors, in a way I know no other part of my heritage. I have read many books and have learned about many aspects of Mi'kmaq culture, at least in a basic way. I have read beautiful poetry and heard beautiful songs in a language I had never heard spoken much less sung. A language that had been spoken in the homes of my ancestors not so long ago. It is all incredible to me.

There is one connection with this culture that I could not have imagined however. That I had not even thought about until a few weeks ago. That is the effect this journey of mine would have on my children.

Last year in Haverhill, Don Barnaby, a Mi'kmaq dancer, said to us, "I hope your children dance!" as he left us after talking with him that day. I was reminded of him this summer. We bought my daughter a beautiful pair of moccasins and one evening I came into my parent's living room to find my daughter, blanket in hand, dancing around the room as she had seen the other young girls doing at the powwow. She smiled up at me and said, "Look mom, this is how they danced at the powwow!" I could do nothing but smile as I thought that she had identified with the things she saw that day. She identified with a part of her own history.

Later in the summer, after we were back in Massachusetts and driving to get school supplies for the new school year,  my eight year old son said. "Mom, what am I going to do?" I said, "About what?"" What if my new teacher wants me to do a project on Christopher Columbus?" Immediately, my teacher mind went to thinking, "Oh no, he is going to do something and we will be viewed as trouble makers or radicals." I said, "Well, your teacher probably will talk about Christopher Columbus because he is given credit for discovering America. Not everyone knows the other parts of the history and you may just have to listen and understand that." He very quietly said, "No, I think if my teacher wants me to do that, I just won't do it. I don't like what he did."

There are these moments in parenting, when your children teach you things. This was one for me. It occurred to me that my children had come along on this journey with me. They are with me because I am their mother. I have never preached to my children about native rights or Christopher Columbus's legacy for that matter. They were just with me. They have been at powwows, visited historic places, watched me reading and writing and heard me speaking on the phone...a lot. Their great grandmother is Mi'kmaq and they know her. They will remember her. This experience is different for them already than it is for me. I don't know what they will do with it, but at least they have this knowledge and they have a right to own it.

So, I will continue my journey and when Columbus day rolls around, I will talk to the teachers if I have to and try to explain that they have had these experiences and that this is their ancestry.  I will respect the moral decision that my eight year old has made based on what he sees and feels to be right inside of him. And, Mr. Barnaby..... if you are out there.....my daughter danced!!