Joseph Levi Sylliboy Interview with Trudy Sable

The following is an Interview with Joseph Levi Sylliboy conducted at his house June 4, 1993 in in Sɨkɨpne’katik (Shubenacadie) First Nation, Shubenacadie, Nova Scotia. It was conducted by Trudy Sable as part of her research on the history of Mi’kmaw dance. Some of the research would be incorporated into her M.A. thesis, Another Look in the Mirror: Research into the Foundations for Developing an Alternative Science Curriculum for Mi’kmaw Children (1996), the Native Dance website with Carleton University’s Circle Institute (2006), and later into her book co-authored with Bernie Francis, The Language of this Land, Mi’kma’ki (Nimbus, 2012).

Funding for the archiving of this interview was through the Department of Canadian Heritage, Aboriginal Language Initiatives Program, with sponsorship by the Mi’kmaw Native Friendship Centre, Halifax, Nova Scotia.

TS: Let me tell you quickly what I’m doing. What I initially started out researching was I just was looking into all the dances that were done throughout time. So, I studied documents and history, but I’m also interviewing a lot of people. And, I’ve been finding bit by bit, all these dances that aren’t done anymore— people still remember, and some even show me movements that were done, so I’m just trying to do this whole history of the dances and what happened to them and which ones still survive to this day.

JLS: I think what’s going on now the last four or five years, people moving in from west. All over the other places like South Dakota, and British Columbia,Virginia(indistinct), Iroquois (inaudible) Toronto, even from Mohawks from Montreal. What’s Montreal—Mohawks there or what? (TS: I think so, yeah). So they start coming round to groups, and they’re showing people how they do war dance and whatever, you know? To us, it’s all together different, peace pipe ceremonies and all that. They never had that in my days. They only just had a celebration like Saint Anne’s, and I see them at Merigomish—that’s about about 13 miles from New Glasgow, eh, an island, they call it Indian Island. They’re there for like a vacation for three weeks. And they pray every day; there’s masses every day. And, they have games, like horseshoe games or ball games or running. They run around the (inaudible) church and there’s a graveyard there. They go about 200 yards, eh? Sometimes they’d have relay teams. It was something to do for about three weeks. That’s every summer, every July 26th. In my days, anyway, they used to stay three weeks.

TS: This was when? In the 40’s or so?

JLS: Oh, back in 40s yeah, back before even when the war was on. In 1949 that’s when my father moved, from there to move here. But, I’m talking about my time of days, you know. After 3 weeks, then they’d have the St. Anne’s Procession. They started to believe (indistinct: in) St. Anne, you know. Every Indian Reserve started to believe in St. Anne, and they have processions. We have processions up here every year. When it’s just about over, like 3 weeks it’s over, they have St. Anne’s day on Sunday, and Monday is going home time. But, a couple days before they have St. Anne, we stay all of three weeks, mostly fun. You know, you look for that when you’re small. When I was only about 12 or 13 years old, and I used to have fun watching them or getting involved with the sports eh. And sometimes they’d use the dories, they have five or six dories, and then they go out half way—I would say about a mile out and then they have a race coming in. Whoever gets to the shore first is the winner, eh? They used to have numbers. My father and his buddy they used to be a team—Number 1, Number 2. Number 3, you’d see them coming, eh? All the people would gather on the shore, and they’d get little prizes, you know? After that there’d be a ball game or a relay run. In the evening, everybody gets religious, you know, it’s church time again. And then 2 or 3 days before they start making this great big burn(?) fire—they put brush on it, you know?—shaped like a wikuom, and they’d light it up.

TS: You mean a bonfire?

JLS: A bonfire. Yeah, it’s a bonfire. They’d light it up in the evening and the little old man sit in the middle with the drum.

TS: What kind of drum was it?

JLS: Pretty much the same drum what they use now, you know?

TS: You mean a hide drum?

JLS: Yeah, yeah. Made out of hide of cow or something, and beating on that and singing different songs altogether, you know, from people from out west,what they singing. A little faster I think. And, I used to watch the old ladies had long dresses on and they had those peaked hats, you know? And then the old men had watcha call them on? Uh, feathers, Feather hats. They’d’ be dancing too. That’s the way I see it, you know, growing up. I never seen anybody sitting around in the circle pass a peace pipe, and turn it around this way, like they do now. Not ‘til about 4 or 5 years ago when people started coming from out West. They would go up to the ball field there, there would be 300 or 400 gathered around, and you’d just see certain people that do the dancing

TS: Who would do the dancing?

JLS: All the guys that were into that into dancing you know.

TS: Anybody you mean?

JLS: Anybody.

TS: Old, young?

JLS: Yeah

TS: Women and men? They’d dance together? They’d dance in the same ring?

JLS: Yeah, they’d be in a circle, you know? Anybody. Even you could jump in, you know? You can jump around and do this and this and that, you know? It’s like uh, Achey breaky dance. (laughs).

TS: Is that the Ko’jua?

JLS: Yeah yeah…the Ko’jua.

TS: Is that what they dance now?

JLS: Yeah, if you know how to do achey-breaky dance, you can join in.

(JLS takes some cookies TS brought for him)

TS: Do you remember…So when they built the bonfire, men and women would dance together? Was it …

JLS: They danced round till that fire…when the fire dies out and it takes about 3 or 4 hours eh? They start about 6/7 o’clock in the evening. They go right by the shore. They build the fire not too far from the water, maybe about10 feet eh? And the nighttime when you see the flame go up, boy, it’s really beautiful, you know, reflecting on the water. And, then they’d dance around that sometimes (inaudible). Yeah. They build their fires not too far from the water. Then after that they have a lunch, a cup of tea.

TS: You mean late at night?

JLS: Yeah late at night. Not too late, maybe 10/11 o’clock. They have a cup of tea, and they make their cup of tea right in the open. There’s no fancy stoves or anything. Strong tea. They got this Indian bread called luskinikn eh?

TS: Yeah, I’ve had it many times.

JL: Yeah, (laughs). They set up the tables, maybe two or three tables, and then they have these great big teapots. The teapots hold about 5 gallons. And strong and just take a handful like that from the box, eh, and just throw it in there. Boy oh boy. A lot of people, lot of spectators, eh? Even white people used to come from New Glasgow, Trenton (inaudible), and Stellarton, they come down to see them, eh? And just about the night before that happens, they used to have open stage, just before you get up to the church, they have open stage and they used them gas lamps for lights. They had 4 gas lamps on each corner. They had about two fiddlers and (phone ringing). And everybody dances, the polka and all that

TS: Square dances?

JLS: Square dances yeah. And they used to draw a lot of white people too you know? They liked the good time, you know? They danced four or five hours. They had a step dancing contest. Men and women. They had step dancing contests. Even the priest used to dance around.

TS: Do you remember his name? The priest’s name?

JLS: Uh, I think it was Father Chaisson. Yeah. French. He used to come down and watch everybody dancing. And then at night it was over and the next night the old people would dance down by the shore, eh?

TS: Just the old people?

JLS: Yeah.

TS: Not the younger?

JLS: Not too many young, mostly old people. They dressed up, eh? The younger ones, I guess they were too shy to dress up. But now a days, they’re not ashamed of it, you know? Everybody dress up, even kids.

TS: Did you ever watch and join in and dance?

JLS: Oh no, I was too shy.

TS: You were too shy?

JLS: I was too shy. I wasn’t too shy at the dance though, you know? Walk up and it’s a different kind of dance. When I heard the fiddles going, boy, that is where I’d jump in. But I figured it was for the old people could enjoy themselves, a different dance.

TS: So, it seemed like an old people’s type…

JLS: Yeah. The old people had their own dances and we had our own dances up the dancing stage, eh? Those were the old days.

TS: Do you remember if the women and men had different dance steps or did they all do the same dances.

JLS: I don’t know if there is a name for the different steps, but they once they dance around a couple of times, and then they stop. And then they say we want to dance this one…I forgot the name of the dance, but they go again. Different style

TS: So there would be different dances, not just Ko’jua?

JLS: Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. They look the same, but they are all different, you know. The Ko’jua is just like doing… you’re doing the achey breaky dance, you know?

TS: I know I’ve seen it done and I can’t do it. But the other ones weren’t Ko’jua?

JLS: No. No. No. They were different. Sometimes they do slow dance, just like half a waltz. (TS: Half a waltz?) Just like they skip and jump here, and jump there, you know? And they I don’t know what they call them but and then there’s the rain dance.

TS: They did a rain dance? Do you remember any of the movements from that?

JLS: No. No. I should have studied it, though.

TS: That would make my work easier.

JLS: Yeah. And then n 1946 my father moved up here. And there was a lot of change then you know. We didn’t go down to Merigomish anymore. They still do, a lot of people do. Just once in a while we go back down to the old place.

TS: Is that where you were talking about? Merigomish? Not Chapel Island right?

JLS: No, Chapel Island is different. They have their own good time down there too, after St. Anne’s. That’s where Wilfred Prosper come in—all the good fiddlers. In Big Cove, I guess, they’re the same way. Before the big reserves, they had, uh…like Big Cove, I haven’t been there for St, Anne’s or whatever. I guess they have a good time over there too.

TS: I went to Chapel Island last year.

JLS: Yeah. How was it, pretty good?

TS: Yeah, yeah it was very good. But there they had the newer chanting and drumming. See Margaret Johnson, do you know Margaret? (JLS: Yeah) yeah, I love her too. She said she remembers the chiefs doing a particular dance together and the counsellors, the Captains, outside the wikuom. Did they have the wikuom when you were there? The Grand Council wikuom? Or, you were at Merigomish.

JLS: Merigomish, No

TS: No that happened at Chapel Island.

JLS: Yeah, there’s a little bit of difference, you know? They go right into it, you know? They build their wikuoms (indistinct).

TS: They did build their wikuoms in 1940? People didn’t have cabins at that point?

JLS: No, they had cabins, some of them had cabins. Some of them had wikuoms.

TS: What did you use?

JLS: We used tar paper. Supposed to have birchbark but I guess they run out of birchbark. (laughs) It was 75 years ago when we could go in the woods and cut a big birch (or birchbark), birch bark and a good size one. Now all them trees are gone and birchbark is pretty well gone. Cause (indistinct) we used tar paper.

TS: Did anyone ever dance inside the wikuom?

JLS: I don’t think so.

TS: No? Mostly down by the shore. (JLA: Uh, huh.) So, you never slower dance, or rain dance, Ko’jua?

JLS: Yeah yeah. But these ones coming in now, I don’t understand their ways of doing it, you know? I get all confused.

TS: Well I went over a powwow tape the other day with a friend of mine and we were sorting out the different dances, which came from the Sioux, which came from the Cree, which came from further out west, Hopi, and then what was really like… because on the tapes I have some of the Elders dancing.

JLS: We should uh…I dunno. I think they’re having…the women is gonna start up some kind of a dance of their own, their own dance. They don’t want men to get involved and they gonna have it up here, way up here about five miles to what’s called Sandy Desert. They gonna put up a wikuom and they going to dance in the evening.

TS: When is this?

JLS: Annie, do you know when they gonna have the dance in Sandy desert?

Annie: I hadn’t even heard about it.

Unidentified Male (UM): On the 5th and 6th)

JLS: 5th and 6th of what? July? (Annie: July?) (UM: Yeah for women) I know what 5th and 6th of July? (UM: No, this month) Or this month?

TS: You mean tomorrow?

JLS: Oh, that’s tomorrow and Sunday, eh? That’s good.

UM: There’s a sacred fire going on.

TS: Is that Sarah Michael? Is she running it?

JLS: Yeah, I imagine. I don’t know if Sarah Michael will be there or not.

Annie: Probably, it’s all Native women.

JLS: All Native women?

Annie: Sent me an invitation but I’m not really into it.

JLS: My sister and I went over to Antigonish last Sunday, and we met a young man and his wife. His name is Noel Doucette too. They got a Noel Doucette as chief down there, but they’re first cousins. And he called himself Noel Doucette, and I looked at him and I said, “Are you related to that chief, Noel Doucette?” He said, “It’s my first cousin.”

TS: From Chapel Island?

JLS: Yeah

TS: Uh about what did you say…. ?

JS: No, he’s from Eskasoni; this guy’s from Eskasoni. But, Noel Doucette lives in Chapel Island.

TS: I know two Noel Doucettes. One is Vaughan Doucette’s father from Eskasoni, and then one’s the Chief. And that who you met from Eskasoni? (JLS:Yeah). Noel Doucette? (JLS: Yeah.) Thin and good looking? (JLS: Yeah. Yeah. Got lots of hair.) Lots of hair. Lives up on Aslum Road, Castle Bay, right? (JLS: Yeah) Ok.

JLS: He was telling me about all them different people coming from different countries. They’re coming down to Eskasoni on the 29th. Yeah you’re gonna be there? (TS: Yeah). And he asked me, he says. “Are you coming down?” I said, “I don’t know, I don’t think so.” I imagine if they would down Eskasoni they would come here too.

TS: Well, I thought it was the 25th. Did he say the 29th.

JLS: They told me the 29th. You could call down there and check.

TS: Yeah, I will. I heard 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th, in there.

JLS: Another thing that I heard is that old guy who is very religious, you know? (knock on door) Come on in. Come on in. Hi Don.

Voice: Hi Joe.

JLS: How you doing buddy. Come on in.

TS: I’ll pause it.

(Woman’s voice): You should show her the wheelchair dad. (JLS: huh?) You should show her Granny’s old wheelchair.

TS: Oh really? A wheelchair?

JLS: Yeah, I’ll show it to you when you finish. Part of my mother’s wheelchair

TS: Where you going to give it? The Nova Scotia museum you mean?

JLS: The wheelchair I got down there is 100 years old.

TS: Who made it?

JLS: I don’t know. When she first got it, um, it was made out of basket, basket weaving like. It’s a long one. It was almost long as the chair you’re sitting on. It’s got a weaving on it. It’s broke now. But it can fix it and be mobile again

TS: We just had uh, do you know the Goulds…Do you know Caroline Gould from Whycocomah? (JLS: Yeah) She just came down with two of her daughters and a friend of theirs, and we were all at the museum together and they brought in their baskets. They have incredible baskets, and Ruth was showing slides of basketry from the collection and porcupine quills. It just was really, really extraordinary work. So, I imagine that this is similar to what you’re talking about the wheelchair? That kind of craftmanship, craftwomanship.

JLS: So anyway, when she first got that wheelchair, or high chair, wheelchair I guess, it was made out of the basket like, you know. Whoever made it, didn’t do a good job, cause it’s all broken, it started to break. So, we got one of them carpenters to make it into plywood. It’s a lot easier, eh? But she died 1964.

TS: What was her name?

JLS: Sarah (TS: Sarah..?) Sarah Sylliboy yeah. Sarah Francis. I’ll show you a picture in my room. She’s all crippled up, and her hands are like this (and her spine?) twisted this way. She was quite heavy, weighed about 160, eh? My father was a big man, he had to lift her up like that, put her in a wheelchair. He used to take her up to the church. They used to be right across from the post office down there … I used to live next door to them (inaudible)

TS: Can I ask you little more about Merigomish?

JLS: Merigomish?

TS: When about what they wore? You said they wore the peaked caps and (JLS: Yeah) and the men wore feathers (JLS: Yeah), in what? In caps? Or? (JLS: Yeah)

JLS: They used to wear (inaudible) caps with feathers, yeah. They would stick them right up.

TS: Like this?

JLS: Yeah

TS: What kind of feathers were they?

JLS: I don’t know. Uh, I don’t know. Peacock, I guess or something. Nice, nice feathers, anyway. Could be some eagles’ too.

TS: I remember you showed me your father’s head dress from last time.

JLS: Yeah, they don’t do that anymore, Pestie’wa’taqatink. This is quite a while ago that I’m talking about, back in 1940’s, eh?. And uh, it’s gradually died down. Old people die off and younger generation come up and they don’t do that stuff anymore since uh…they finished that (indistinct: up) back in the 50s I think. And then they don’t stay 3 weeks like they used to. Just when I was growing up, when I’m talking about, my days eh. But after we left Pictou Landing, a few years after that and then the old fellows start dying off, eh? The old fellows I’m talking about they used to dance but then they’re 75, 80, 85 years old. And then they start dying off and then traditions seems to be dying down. All the teenagers are ruining it now. They still go down there maybe for a week or maybe two weeks. All you gonna see is a bunch of drunks.

TS: Where?

JLS: Down in Merigomish.

TS: In Chapel Island they don’t allow alcohol.

JLS: No. No. Like I say. Teenagers taking over, younger generations taking over, and they don’t care about traditions. All they think about is drinking and fighting, and suicides. One guy went down there, he came from Vietnam. He was Vietnam veteran, and all he talked about is going to kill himself. And he was on, all doped up when he came back from Vietnam. Like I say I … Um. mostly when he talked about, mostly killing himself. One day he took a shotgun or a 22, a sawed off 22, and he and another guy were setting there, sitting on a log drinking every day. And every once in a while you see a snake, black snake going here and there and take the gun and start shooting it. (inaudible)

TS: Yeah you told me about this, yeah

JLS: Yeah, so anyway that’s what’s going on mostly now.

TS: When you were growing up did you see any dance on the reserve like in Pictou landing, or was it always just at Merigomish.

JLS: Just at Merigomish. Just once a year.

TS: And, you didn’t do, I know some places that they did, around Christmas and Epiphany, they did Pestie’wa’taqatink? … Did they do that?

JLS: Oh yeah. I didn’t do anything but I used to follow them around.

TS: But did they do that in Pictou landing?

JLS: They used to

TS: Yeah

JLS: The olden days. The old fellas, I think it was around about New Years, just around New Year’s time, they looked for king and queen. They pick cards you know. And whoever picks the king will be a king, and whose a woman picks a queen, will be a queen. And they called king and queen. And then they pick out three or four names, and if it happens (inaudible) your name’s Newell, you gonna get a present. You know, and the people used to go around with a shotgun and some presents.

TS: A shotgun?

JLS: A shotgun, yeah.

TS: What do you mean?

JLS: They just go outside and bang! you know? And then uh, then they say a prayer or something you know—the old people, the old people like uh, Wilfred Prosper. You know. You got to have a leader eh? and they say some kind of prayer, you know? And, a bunch of us teenagers who just follow them around…They start from there, top of the hill and they go all the way down, way down the other end.

TS: This is in Shubenacadie?

JLS: Yeah. In Shubenacadie. They done that with people once or twice.

TS: So did they go to the house?

JLS: They go to their house (TS: of the person named?) Yeah yeah. If your name is picked and you were Saint for tonight, or something like that. And they’d give us a present. Almost like Christmas, Christmas tradition like.

TS: But, you didn’t have the shaved crosses, that they have up in Chapel Island and Eskasoni—you know they have the shaved crosses?

JLS: No. Well yeah yeah (TS …. Flowers) Yes, they did. Yeah they did. Yeah they had something similar like that. And they go in and uh they tell the old fella, “You’re to be the king, or whatever, presents for you.” And then seems to me they used to have a little bit of rice too. I didn’t know the meaning of rice, but… But anyways so as soon they go inside everyone would get a saucer with a little bit of rice in it, cooked rice. And then they would say a prayer, first, and then eat your rice, and then move on to the next house.

TS: So, you didn’t dance?

JLS: They did yeah. They did a dance. We just outside looking in.

TS: You danced first outside?

JLS: Yeah, yeah

TS: Ko’jua?

JLS: Yeah

TS: And, then you would go in and get the rice?

JLS: Yeah.

TS: And then you’d leave?

JLS: And then we’d leave and then you go on to the next house, you know. By the time you get to the fourth one you pretty well done out. This is a big reserve (laughing).

TS: Did they cook feasts for you? Cause, I know at other reserves they did…..

JLS: Maybe other reserves did. I don’t’ remember. Maybe they did. Because, you know, I wasn’t really interested. I didn’t know really what was going on. I was more like staying outside with my girlfriend or whatever.

TS: See what you missed? All that history (laughing) you missed because you were more interested in your girlfriend. (laughter)

JLS: Really, we was mostly nosey you know? You didn’t hear what’s going on inside at the time …(indistinct). A lot of good times though up here you know. When I started growing up. And they used to have pie socials and dances.

TS: What kind of dances were those?

JLS: Oh, just polka and ordinary dance. They have a guitar and fiddle eh? They go house to house. We never had no hall like today. We wasn’t that rich. We tried to have a dance in somebody’s house, like in my house you know. They want to come in and dance, more or less like a party, eh? Pie social.

TS: Why was it a pie social?

JLS: Pie social if you want to save up for a hockey team or a ball team to buy uniforms. Uniforms. They make pretty good money too, you know, selling pies. Auction pies off. Sometimes they go about 40, 50 dollars, 75 dollars for one pie, yeah.

TS: So, you go in with the fiddles and the guitars and you go from house to house, or just one house…

JLS: Well the fiddlers picked the house, eh? We got a house way up the other end, sometimes we got two dances going on, one up the other end and one down on this end. It was as up to you, you want to go this way or that way. But, we had no t.v.s. just radios eh? (Indistinct: Just the old t.v. screen) I remember—I have to laugh when I say about t.v. –-when I first joined up in ‘51, I was only about 22 years old. I joined up in Halifax and I landed in Petawawa. As soon as I walked in the barracks, there was this t.v. hanging up on the corner. And nobody told me this t.v. was in there; I didn’t know what t.v. was. I jumped in…So I went in with the boys and, geez, I jumped back. And I told that guy, “What’s that on the wall there?” He said, “That’s t.v.” I said, “What do you mean? What’s t.v.? Oh you know, I say I never seen them before. The only one I seen was movie theaters eh? I couldn’t take my eyes off that t.v. Boys were drinking beer, “Come on Joe, drink up, the hell with t.v.”

After a while you get used to it. I started writing letters you know, and wrote to my wife, “Did you know there’s such a thing as television? We got television up there in Ontario?” She writes back, “Yeah, we got one up here too in the church basement. Father Boudreau bought one in. He charged 10 cents to every person who went in.” (Laughing) Even kids just paid 10 cents. (Laughter) In black and white too.

TS: What was your father’s name again?

JLS: Levi

TS: Levi-Sylliboy, and he was a Counsellor?

JLS: Yeah, a Counsellor and a Constable too. He just had a hat and…what do you call those? …handcuffs and a clip (indistinct)

TS: For the reserve?

JLS: Right on the reserve yeah. Well he was telling me…I don’t remember when he was policeman…He was telling me that when somebody runs away or do something wrong on the reserve, the Chief will tell him, “You go get him. If he’s in Halifax or Saint John or whatever or (indistinct) somewhere, you go get him and bring him back and he’ll be punished.” And he went by himself. He can handle himself. He weighed 265 lbs and was 5’11”. He had big arms and big fingers. He can take 800 lbs put it over his head just like that you know. When he grabs a man, boy, they go down. They don’t argue with him. But he put handcuffs on them, boy, and bring them back.

He had to go get a fellow in Saint John, and this guy was ready to go to Nova Scotia Hospital; he was mentally retarded. And uh, I guess that guy, he didn’t want to go. He found him at somebody’s house, and just put his handcuffs on him and handcuffs on himself, and said, “You’re coming.” He dragged him and he put him on the train. And he bought two tickets for himself and the prisoner, eh?

He did something wrong in Pictou Landing, you know but he was half crazy. If he goes through the courts he’s going to Nova Scotia Hospital anyway. And on the way back from Saint John he said every time they’d come to a bridge, he’d jump under the uh, whatcha call it, the seat. He’d get so scared, you know. And people used to look at him, you know, they didn’t know he was crazy. My father said I used to haul him out and he was heavy and kind of strong.

And they went to Halifax first, I guess or Truro, or somewhere, and they got off the train—it must have been Truro I guess— and that guy, you know, he got mad and he grabbed onto them bars. As soon as you get off the train there’s the bar there and when he got off backwards, he grab hold of them bars. They said he was so strong, he said, they couldn’t release his hands, his fingers. I didn’t know, they got a good grip. He says, the conductor come along and say we’ll fix that. He took a watcha call them, a hacksaw and hacksawed them bars off. (Laughter) They took him away in a cop car and took him down Pictou landing.

TS: Holding the bars on the way?

JLS: Yeah, he’d tell me good stories.

TS: So, they would give their own punishment on reserve or what?

JLS: Yeah. Yeah they had their own jailhouse. (TS: On the reserve?) Yeah, they had the jailhouse. Yeah and someday, one time a guy went up there and tried to get his friend out and dug a hole there on the roof. (Inaudible: he released his buddy and they ran away) He took a crowbar and knocked off the jailhouse. (laughing)

TS: Did your father and mother grow up in Pictou Landing? Is that where they are from?

JLS: No, my father grew up in Cape Breton.

TS: Where, Eskasoni?

JLS: No, Inverness. (TS: Oh he did? Oh really?) We’re from Inverness and my mother was a Francis from Pictou Landing, eh?

TS: Now were there many Mi’kmaq around Inverness?

JLS: Yeah. them days, they didn’t live right on the reserve. They could put up a wikuom wherever they want to right.

TS: And what days are you talking about? 19…, what? 20’s, 30s?

JLS: Yeah, oh maybe um, 1910 or whatever. My father was born in 18-something, 1882 or something like that. Somewhere around there his parents were living right by the river.

TS: What river?

JLS: Well anywhere. They didn’t have reserves like they do today. The only, I guess, the only way Indian Affairs can count the numbers is they would put Indians on reservations and give them band numbers. And that way they’re just like cows, all numbered up. Eh. If you run away they know you in Boston or you’re in California because they got your band number and you’re already enlisted up there. They didn’t have that they wouldn’t be able to control the Indians. They gotta to have reserves. Like at Shubenacadie, I don’t see why they didn’t buy a piece of land going to Grand Lake, you know, cause they didn’t want to live next to the highway like in Turro. Instead, they brought us up here, and they marked us off 20 miles radius and put a fence around us. A lot of swamps here you know. It’s no place to start a farm or anything like that. That’s Indian Affairs.

TS: Yeah I know, I know I’ve heard this a lot.

JLS: They took the best land and they put Indians in swamps. That’s how much they care about Indians. And they didn’t want to educate them. They took their kids and put them in residential school down in Shubie. And the nuns and the priests and them fellas there, (male voice – Yeah I was there) you were there?

JLS: And they tortured them.

TS: You went to residential school (to unidentified male UM)

UM: Yeah

JLS: Was you there when they tortured them? Or

UM: I remember the beatings and that.

JLS: Is that right. (UM: Oh yeah) I know some of them, some of them have scars on their back, because they used that horse whip on them eh?

UM: (Difficult to hear: “They used the strap. I remember (inaudible)

[Break in tape]

TS: So how long did your father live in Inverness? Was that all his life?

JLS: Them days when my father was moving around from reserve to reserve…I guess they didn’t have what they call a reserve, more or less like uh, where ever they want to sleep, if they get tired in the woods or whatever, you just put up a little wikuom. And then you just set it (Indistinct: settle) down the next to the river so they can fish and hunt whenever they want to. History says we started off with hunting rights and fishing rights, and they said that’s the one thing they can’t take away from us because it was our treaty I guess. You know, hunt and fish, so they won’t starve. And then they plant their own vegetables, plant potatoes and stuff like that. My sister is 85 year old now, and sometimes she tells me about when she was young.

TS: Is this Annie Bernard?

JLS: Yeah, Annie Bernard. You met her?

TS: I want to. You told me about her the last time and I haven’t met her yet

JLS: She told me she said the reason I don’t have much education, said Dad didn’t give us much chance to go to school. In them days only had one school, one room schoolhouse anyway, just like, what do you call it, Little House on the Prairie? One teacher teaches all the classes from grade 6 to grade 9 (inaudible). The school I was brought up in, Day schools. We managed somehow. We got strapping too. We had straps about that long and about that wide and about three or four inches thick (indistinct).

TS: Where was this? Pictou Landing?

JLS: Yeah. If you fight something or do something wrong, the teacher would say put your hand out, you know, and just give it a little tap. Not like in Shubenacadie School. Shubenacadie School, the priest, Father Mackey, used to be a boxer, and when the boys do anything wrong (inaudible –before his days) I heard stories from them guys coming from there, says their eyes be black and blue. And them sisters, would take them young girls and they say, “You eat your porridge”, or whatever you know, and the same thing over and over every day. And if they didn’t like their porridge or whatever they give them, they’d just grab them by the hair and rub your face on the dish. That’s a cruel way. And they say that even some guys say that they wasn’t even allowed to talk Indian. Some guys started to learn to talk Indian when they were small and when they’d take them up there, he said he wasn’t allowed to talk Indian. Because if they do talk Indian they get punished. You know, one guy said, that’s John Bernard…he just died this summer. He said, I was down there he said, my mother used to bring me something for Christmas, like a little truck or something you know. And then just before I… They know, they get a call…see my mother would call up and the sisters would know what day my mother would be coming in to bring me presents.

[Break in tape]

There’s a reason my mother and her sisters down there, you know?  “Oh, he was darn good” this and that.”  He would stand there with a bow tie on, “Here’s your Christmas presents, here’s your Christmas card.” I had my mother, he said. Fifteen minutes after she left, the tie would come off and everything, he said, and then they go through the same routine again. “If I talk Indian or something like that, the priest will punish me.” No matter if he is just a small kid, he put them gloves on and boy, he hit you.”

TS: You said your father lived up in Inverness? Were there other Mi’kmaq who also lived up there?

JLS: Yeah, Yeah, and most of his family. He had a big family too. He come from twelve of them in his family.

TS: Were there other Mi’kmaw families up there?

JLS: Mmhmm.

TS: Do any of them live there now, do you know? Or, did they all move?

JLS: They all put them on reserves.

TS: So that would have been around what?

JLS: Well, I think the ones that used to live around Inverness, they put them on the Whycocomagh reserve now.

TS: So, most of the people who would have been in Inverness would be in Whycocomagh now?

JLS: Settled along the shore, the Cabot Trail

TS: I’ll tell you why I am asking this question. Because this group of people I know bought land up there, in Inverness. and, they’re certain there is Mi’kmaw presence. They think there is a burial ground or something up there and they asked me, they said, “Would you please find out. We’d like to know what the history of this land is.” It’s right in Inverness. It’s near Cape Smokey, I guess. And so they…

JLS: It must be my father. (inaudible) You know my father was born

TS: Where was he born? Right in Inverness?

JLS: Right in Inverness.

TS: I wonder if he would have known…did you ever go up there yourself?

JLS: When I went up there, oh about 15 years ago, and I took my trailer, my old trailer, (inaudible) my nephew and his wife, my two nephews and his wife, we all went up the Cabot Trail, and we went around Inverness and I wanted to see Inverness, I wanted to see where my father was born, eh?

TS: Did you see where he was born?

JLS: Yeah, well I don’t know exactly where he was born, but we went right into Inverness. Cause when you go to the Cabot Trail, you got to go in Inverness. It’s a little town, like, a little village or what? We took some pictures and we stopped here and there. It was beautiful along…going up, eh? We seen some lobster boats, some (inaudible: restaurants?) Oh my god, it’s beautiful scenery.

TS: That’s really interesting. O.k. that confirms something. I was going to go up to Whycocomagh and see if there were some people, older Elders that remembered Inverness because this feels like a very special place, this land—it’s in a valley. It feels very, I don’t know, something magical.

[One of JLS’s daughters comes in and they chat for a minute.]

JLS: So, my father started travelling around after he left Inverness. And they settled in this…his parents moved to Bayfield.

TS: Where, Bayfield?

JLS: Bayfield, or Heatherton? Antigonish anyway. Bayfield, I don’t know if…must be in Heatherton cause there’s two reserves there.

TS: Where is this?

JLS: Just southside of Antigonish.

TS: Afton area?

JLS: Afton, yeah. Afton and Bayfield. That’s Heatherton, a place called Heatherton. I imagine…I don’t know what they call it but I remember they used to live on top of…you go onto the railroad tracks and you walk up on top of the hill and that’s where I met my grandmother. My grandmother was…she was a Scotch woman. A nice looking woman. She used to set outside, they used to have an old fashioned rocking chair. And she got asthma, just like the one I got now. I got asthma, bronchitis. And she was there, boy, just rocking away, taking in the fresh air. And I could hardly remember. My father said, “Here’s your grandmother, sitting up there, trying to get some fresh air. He was so glad to see us, you know? And they had a great big farm house. They were on a farm. They had two horses, three or four cows, and some chickens, ducks and all that, you know, and she had cream. My golly.

TS: Was your grandfather a Mi’kmaw?

JLS: Yeah, yeah.

TS: And he was a Sylliboy as well?

JLS: Yeah

TS: What was his name?

JLS: Joe Sylliboy

TS: He was Joseph?

JLS: That’s why my father called me Joe and my middle name is Levi after him—Joe Levi, Joseph Levi.

TS: So, they lived in Heatherton and your father moved to Inverness?

JLS: Well, they all moved together, they all…when they come from Inverness, my father and all the family, they…I guess when they left Inverness, they went to Antigonish, Antigonish County. And my father started moving on, you know, started looking for jobs. He came to Pictou, and then there were always ships coming into Pictou and he got a job for loading on lumber, eh?

TS: This is when you were born?

JLS: Before I was born.

TS: So,1920s, 1930s?

JLS: When my sister was younger. Back in 1907, 1905. They only had two or three kids then, you know. My sister is 85 now. She was born in 1905, 1907?

TS: I’d like to talk to her.

JLS: When my father met my mother, she was only sixteen-year old. (chuckles) They fell in love, I guess. And they would travel back and forth from Antigonish to Pictou. And there was twelve of us. They always had big families.

TS: They still do.

JLS: They still do, yeah. I’d try to keep up with them. You see my daughters out there? They’re (indistinct: eight) girls (inaudible). That’s the best I can do (laughs) My father and mother, they lived to see my oldest daughter and my second one. Only had three girls when they died back in ’62?

TS: Who was that?

JLS: My father.

TS: He had three girls?

JLS: No, I had three girls. Seen his grandchildren anyway. That’s the one sitting in the middle, the oldest one. She was only 2-3 year old when my father died. And my other two grows up there, they are standing right behind me?

TS: When did he become a Counsellor?

JLS: Oh, when we were living in Pictou, even before I was born, I guess.

TS: Do you remember any chants? (JLS: Huh?) Do you remember any of the chants they used to sing with the drum?

JLS: No, I can’t remember—it’s so far back, eh?

TS: If you heard them would you remember them?

JLS: Yeah, I imagine.

TS: I have some tapes of chants. Not with me but…

JLS: I don’t know. In them days, it seems to me nobody had any tape recorders or the cameras. Cameras were very scarce. So, that would be a long time ago. I will be 64 next month so I’m going back about 50 years ago, anyway, at the most. In them days, these tape recorders, they only come about about when? About 30 years ago?

TS: I’m not sure. I know there were some wax cylinder recordings. There are some that Ruth and I are trying to get hold of that were done in the ‘40s with, who was it? Levi Poulette? I can’t remember the other one, Wilmot? Peter Wilmot? They’re over in Scotland. So, you remember these different dances that they did. That’s pretty interesting. When do you think…do you think they died out when? After Centralization?

JLS: Yeah.

TS: Do you think Centralization affected dancing?

JLS: I think so

TS: Why do you think that? What’s your feeling?

JLS: Uh, I don’t know. Everything seems to die down after Centralization took place. For ten years, there wasn’t a damn thing going. No houses. The only thing that kept us alive is ball games, sports, playing ball up here, you know? Going to a league, playing Milford, Stewiacke and all them places, and they play some Indian teams too. They take on some Indians to Truro and then after living here 5 years, and then we were watching them…well, same year, we were watching the Shubenacadie team, what they called the First Team from Shubenacadie—we were watching them playing. We were all sitting down, we were all from Pictou Landing, but my father was living down there, you know. We’d just go up the hill in the evening and watch the ball game. Antigonish coming down, Antigonish Indians. And, it was Sunday afternoon, these Antigonish Indians start beating the hell out of our first base Indians, First Team. Before the game was over, one of our guys coming from Pictou Landing, he challenged the guy from Antigonish. “We’re from Pictou Landing, but we don’t call ourselves Shubenacadie guys or nothing. We’d like to take you fellas on after you fellas beat Shubenacadie.” They said, “Sure, a double header like…” And then we took them on, after the game is over, we took them on and, boy, we beat them.

TS: So, you had your own separate team when you were here, as Pictou?

JLS: For a while. It didn’t last long, for about a week, eh?

TS: A week?

JLS: These guys here, they say, “Well, we’ll take you boys on tomorrow night. Take all of the First Teams.

[Interruption when people come in]

JLS: Where was I?

TS: You were talking about your teams.

JLS: Oh yeah. So anyway, this First Team, they called themselves First Team, we beat them every night, every Monday when they…I got (inaudible) and this guy John Roachie (inaudible), was couching the First Team. (inaudible) He says, “I’m getting mad” he said. “You fellas living on reserve, on Shubenacadie,” he said, “and you call yourselves Pictou Landing Team. This is no good” he said. “We’re going to have to break up both teams and make it into one team.”
And when we finished putting us together as one team, mostly all our team on there; there were only a few Shubencadie. And we started winning, you know, and we started bringing in a good name for Shubenacadie. Yeah, it was pretty popular though, by Jesus. When Shubenacadie started winning, you know, there were all the girls…there were lots of girls here, eh? We were out-numbered. There were only 75 boys and 100 girls. When you win the game, you got all kinds of girlfriends. (Laughter) If you don’t win, you don’t get nobody. Make a deal for yourself.

TS: That’s one way. Oh, I know. You reminded me of a question I meant to ask back a ways. When I talked to Joey Gould from Afton, he said when he was a little boy—he’s younger than you, probably 20 years or so younger—he said that they used to have dance competitions at Chapel Island. Did that ever happen at Merigomish?

JLS: Merigomish? Oh Yeah.

TS: You used to have competitions? He was talking about Mi’kmaw dance. Not Scottish. No polkas or step…

JLS: Oh, no, no, no. When they done away with traditional dancing, the Indian dancing, they moved up to the stage and then they had competition dances

TS: Step dances.

JLS: Step dancing. That’s when I won two trophies in there.

TS: I wonder when the drum came in. I am trying to figure out when the drum…

JLS: Oh, the drum’s been around a long before I…as far as I can remember, and even longer.

TS: A hide…? Because in a lot of the history descriptions, there is no drum, it’s birchbark.

JLS: Birchbark, yeah.

TS: Hitting on birchbark, it’s not a hide drum. It’s pretty interesting, isn’t it?

JLS: Yeah. Did you ever visit Christine Brooks? Christine Brooks just lives down there. Not too far. She’s about 73 and she could tell you probably tell you more than what I can tell you. She was always a dancer. She’s a dancer. She’s going to be in that, like this young fell was saying, that this year they’re having this, whatya call it?

TS: Native Women’s gathering?

JLS: Native Women’s dancing this coming Saturday and Friday?

TS: Does she like talking to people?

JLS: Yeah.

TS: Should I just call her?

JLS: Yeah. Just give her a call and ask her, you know.

TS: And, she’ll be involved this weekend, right?

JLS: Yeah. You could tell her I recommended you to her, you know.

TS: Next time I will bring a few dozen chocolate chip cookies!!! (Tape cuts out!)