“It may seem like it is someone else’s children (being killed) – but there is no such thing as someone else’s children.”  Omar El Akkad, One Day Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This

When I opened the surprise parcel, out tumbled a beautiful green and white keffiyeh* – a gift from my friend Emily, along with a letter sharing the story of why she was giving it to me.

Briefly, the story goes like this. Emily’s daughter and son-in-law were producers on a film you may have heard of – Sugar Cane – the award-winning documentary which investigates St. Joseph’s Mission in Williams Lake First Nation directed by Julian Brave NoiseCat and Emily Kassie.

When in Los Angeles for the launch of Sugar Cane, her son-in-law fell into conversation with a director from Palestine. I can only imagine them sharing the different versions of settler colonialism, occupation, and genocide practiced  in North America and in Palestine. The Palestinian film director gifted Emily’s son-in-law with the green and white keffiyeh. In time, he offered it to Emily’s husband John.

After a while, they felt the keffiyeh should move on and they gifted it to me. The keffiyeh arrived at the perfect time – I was feeling despair and helplessness as the ongoing genocide in Gaza and violence in the West Bank continued to worsen, and the world watched in silence. 

Emily sent information about Sugar Cane, which was about to be released. It showed at the Broadway Theatre in Saskatoon but I was unable to go. I knew it was streaming, and while I read reviews and listened to interviews, I never managed to see the film that first year.

Guess what came to my own community on September 30, 2025 (our National Day for Truth and Reconciliation)? You’ve got it – Sugarcane was showing at the gym at Wapiimoostoosis – the only remaining part of the residential school which operated in Lebret for over 115 years.  Members of Star Blanket Cree Nation and the surrounding communities gather each September 30th for a pipe ceremony, a smudge walk, to share stories from survivors and to enjoy a delicious lunch together.

Artist Chasity Starr, her “healing”  mural and her proud family looking on, back of gym at Wapiimoostoosis

Three generations – Chasity and her mural, her mum and her nephew, back of Gym at Wapiimoostoosis

This seemed exactly the right place and the right time to see Sugarcane. With a bag of warm popcorn, I watched Sugarcane on the big screen with my friends, my treaty relatives, and my neighbours.

Just two weeks previous, I was on Parliament Hill attending part of five day vigil called the March to Ottawa. The March to Ottawa honoured the 20,000+ children who have been murdered in Gaza by inviting people to read aloud their names over the course of the 5 days. The first reader was Anishinaabe elder Albert Dumont, former poet laureate of Ottawa, and member of the Kitigan Zibi Anishinabeg First Nation. His words, and the empty shoes, roller skates, sandals and boots that symbolized some of those lost lives reminded me of the shoe memorials  found          across Canada after 215 potential graves of children were discovered at Kamloops in 2021. In both cases, the shoes symbolize children’s lives tragically cut short through acts of genocide by the occupying power.

As well as reading the names of children over the five days, hundreds of Ottawan’s contributed a banner which stretched a city block where the name of murdered children were written in hand. Dozens held this banner aloft and in silence on the day I attended the March to Ottawa.

Opening Remarks, March to Ottawa, September 15, 2025

Shoes to honour the children who attended residential school across Canada and who never came home. Credit: Okotoks Online

Omar El Akkad’s words (quoted at the top) have been echoing in my heart this fall. In the dedication to his book, he quotes Polish poet and essayist Wislawa Sxymborska from her poem “Vietnam”. It’s worth sharing here:

“Woman, what’s your name?” “I don’t know.”
“How old are you? Where are you from?” “I don’t know.”
Why did you dig that burrow?” “I don’t know.”
“How long have you been hiding?” “I don’t know.”
“Why did you bite my finger?” “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you know that we won’t hurt you?” “I don’t know.”
“Whose side are you on?” “I don’t know.”
“This is war, you’ve got to choose.” “I don’t know.”
“Does your village still exist?” “I don’t know.”
“Are those your children?” “Yes.”
Polish; trans. Stanislaw Barnczak & Clare Cavanagh

“Are those your children? Yes.” Five words.

I highly recommend watching Sugarcane .  One reviewer writes,”  It’s a remarkably courageous and exposed work, particularly for co-director Julian Brave NoiseCat and his father, Ed Archie NoiseCat, whose painful journey together in search of healing is the film’s spine.” I was moved by the measured telling of this story. Incredible real-life investigator Charlene Belleau has imprinted her solid  determination, courage, and love on me for always. Her  steadfast commitment to finding out the truth about these children, and honouring them by doing so remind us indelibly that all of the children, every one,  are in our care.

*Keffiyehs were first used as a symbol of resistance, self-determination, justice and freedom during the Arab Revolt against British Colonial Rule during the 1930s. Often they are black and white. I love that mine is green and white symbolizing resurgence. I wear it in solidarity. For me, It says, “the Palestinian people can never be erased.’ The center fishnet pattern represents Palestinian fishers and the people’s close connection to the Mediterranean. The olive tree pattern represents perseverance, strength and resilience. The lines along the edges represent trade routes with neighbours.