The Lansdowne Letters: How!

When my mother and we five children joined my father in Lansdowne House,
in February, 1961, the white population swelled from sixteen to twenty-two.

Thirteen adults and three babies climbed
to fourteen adults, four babies, and four children.

The lack of older white children in the remote Ojibway village
was a concern for my parents.
Baby Bertie would have plenty of playmates
in babies Duncan, Kathie, and Glen.
Donnie and Barbie, at newly seven and almost five, had each other
and were not accustomed to ranging far from home to play.
But Roy and I were a different matter.

Good Buds, Donnie, Bertie, and Barbie (right)

A Few Months Before Going North

Smith's Cove, Nova Scotia, Canada, 1960 

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

At nine and ten, Roy and I had diverging interests and a love-hate relationship.
Only fourteen months separated us in age, and we were serious rivals,
forever trying to outwit and outdo each other in everything.
We were accustomed to visiting our friends and relatives all over Smith's Cove
and roaming its woods, fields, and shores together and separately.

Our parents had tried to prepare us for a very different reality,
where we were unlikely to make friends among the Ojibway children
and where we were unable to go far from home in the dangerous and unforgiving bush.
We would be on our own and without school and church activities,
telephones, or television (not to mention electricity and running water).

Sibling Rivalry

Roy (3) laughs as the photographer tells me (4) to pull my skirt down

so my underwear won't show.

Some things you don't forget, ever!

Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada, 1954 

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

So that first morning when we awoke in Lansdowne House what did our parents do?
After breakfast and cleaning up, and with no school for the day, 
they shooed us all outside to fend for ourselves.

The day was brilliantly cold, as only the North can be,
with a vibrant blue sky, stark black spruce,
dazzling white snow, and deep blue shadows.

Winter Morning

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, December 1960

Photo by Donald MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

As we took a few tentative steps beyond the back doorstep,
the snow squeaked loudly and the Indian dogs scrutinized us.

It was bitterly cold, but calm,
so the subzero temperature was bearable in the bright sunlight.

-20º,  -30º,  -40º ... ?
I don't remember; when it's that cold, it doesn't matter.
It's flat out, brutally cold.
Our mother had hustled us into thickly layered, warm clothes 
so we moved with sausage legs and arms.

The silence was overpowering when we stopped and looked around.
I could almost hear the sparkles dancing in the snow.
The only signs of life were the wary Indian dogs
and the smoke rising from the nearby log cabins.

"Go on!  Go play!" our father encouraged,
firmly shutting the back door behind us;

and so, we ventured into the empty space between
our home and the silent Indian log cabins.

A minute or two later,
around the corner of the nearest cabin
two young Ojibway girls appeared:
Fanny and Nellie Kitchejohn.


Likely Fanny on the left
and Nellie on the right ~
Blame my half-century memory.
Photo by Donald MacBeath
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

We approached them, encouraged by the shy smiles of the two girls

with their beautiful copper skin, flashing eyes, and dark hair.

I raised my right hand in greeting and said, "How!"

followed by "Me, Louise" as I patted my chest.

"Me, Roy," added my brother solemnly.

"Speak to them in proper English" bellowed my father

from the back door he had cracked open surreptitiously.

After that my memories are less distinct.

I wrote in a letter to Nana about ten days later

that we had spent that first day "trying to talk with the Indians."

We learned their names, and they learned ours.

Somehow a toboggan appeared.

It may have been the one that usually stood against the forestry shack,

or it may have been one that belonged to the Kitchejohns.

Regardless, we were soon taking turns pulling each other

around one of the log cabins on the toboggan.

We did this for a long time, until we were frozen sausages.

The two Ojibway girls especially loved pulling our younger sisters around.

We even dashed briefly into their log cabin to warm by the wood stove. 

Small, dimly lit, sparsely furnished around the edges, it was deliciously warm,

and their mother welcomed us quietly, despite her reserve.

Sleighing Toboggan

Historical Photo, Canada 

Photo by Alexander Henderson (1831 - 1913)

Wikimedia

Our parents were shocked and pleased when we finally went inside our home.

They had worried about nothing, it seemed.

They had forgotten that children naturally speak in a universal language

when they approach each other with openness and friendship.

They had also neglected to consider the love of First Nations people for children.

Within a couple of weeks, my younger sisters had made the rounds of the village.

Donnie with her long curls, Barbie with her blonde hair,

and Bertie determinedly tottering around on her unsteady legs

were welcomed warmly and with shy curiosity everywhere.

Roy and I were also treated with warmth and respect,

but we were invited into Ojibway homes less often.

As older children, I think we were more intimidating;

whereas Donnie, Barbie, and Bertie were irresistibly cute.

I, in particular, was a conundrum.

As an independent and outspoken girl,

I didn't fit into any recognizable female role.

Neither child nor adult, I had to find a niche I could occupy.

Siblings, Going Their Separate Ways

Canoeing on Lake Attawapiskat, Spring 1961

Photo by Donald MacBeath

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

Till next time ~
Fundy Blue


Bay of Fundy out of Westport, Brier Island
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

Notes:  

1.   20 Below = -28.8º C
      30 Below = -34.4º C
      40 Below = -40.0º C

2.   A Personal Note:
      I'm sorry about the irregular publishing of my Northern posts the last few weeks.  After a lot of
      time and frustration, I've resolved my computer and internet problems.  No more library!  Unless 
      there is a snafu when we move to another trailer shortly.  Terry is a happy guy as he cheerfully
      announces the subzero temperatures and snowy weather in Colorado, then prances out the door
      to play pickleball in the Arizona sun.  I have to admit that the warm sunshine and dry roads are
      lovely.  Bullhead City is turning out to be quite a nice fit!  I'll be making the rounds to visit your
      blogs asap.
     

For Map Lovers Like Me:

Location of Neskantaga (Lansdowne House)

Human Rights Watch Report on the Safe Water Crisis 

in First Nations Communities in Ontario

Make It Safe