As per Bonnie's request, and as an honor gift to native sisters and brothers who have been my family and teachers and friends, I pass along this is a song I wrote for my sister Yvette Michele, of the Mistashipu or Mani Utenam Innu of Nitassinan. I ask that if any of you wish to sing this, you introduce it with a request not to destroy the Innu nation and Nitassinan, the land the Innu have lived on forever, and if you sing it for profit, make an appropriate contribution to either stop Hydro Quebec's assault on our planet, or to aid intervention to stop Innu teen suicide through support for traditional culture and hunter/gather rights. I hope you all like it.



YVETTE'S SONG

When I was young, my people lived
Along the Moise River's flow.
Summer when the Salmon came,
It's fishing we would go,
And oh the way the Salmon ran!

Then came the fall, and with it the snow.
North and west to hunt we'd go,
Following the Caribou,
And O the way the Salmon ran!
And O how the Salmon ran!

Then one day, the Canadians came,
Took away the children in a big sea plane,
Told us we were for boarding school,
And O how the children ran!
And O the way the children ran!

"Kwai kwai," I said to the teacher there.
She slapped my face and pulled my hair.
"Bonjour" was the greeting then,
And O how my old words ran!
And O the way my old words ran!

They took away my clothes of Caribou,
Took my moccasins and cut my long hair too,
Schooled me in the white world's ways,
And O how traditions ran,
And O the way traditions ran!

When I was 18, I went to Quebec
To get a job with a fat pay check.
It was there I found I was Indian,
And O how my hope then ran!
And O the way all hope then ran!

For an Indian there was no work at all,
But there were drugs and there was alcohol,
And soon my life, it was adrift,
Like a feather on the Moise's flow,
Like a feather on the Moise's flow.

But the Bear spirit came to me,
Spoke of my Grandmother, and the Moise,
And back I went to Grandmother's door,
And O the way my cares then ran!
And oh the way all care then ran!

There I remembered I was Innu again,
Not a Montainaise and not your Indian,
And O how good the Salmon was!
And O the way the white ways ran!
And O how the white ways ran!

Now you bring us your mines and dams.
You pollute our rivers. You destroy our land.
And now I can only ask:
Where can we Innu stand?
Where can we Innu stand?


Niout
Larry