Dances On Thin Ice

The front page of the “White River News” read “The Remains of More than a 1,000 Indigenous Children Found at Former Residential Schools in Canada.”

Kateri bought the paper, but couldn’t find the courage to read the article. She called her adoptive mother and told her she was coming over for some needed advice for what was sure to be the beginning of another investigation- one that would involve her stay as a child, 30 years ago, at a residential school for Native American children in Copper Harbor, Michigan.

On route, she reflected on her childhood.

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Kateri was given her name from her Native American biological mother, a member of the Chippewa Tribe from the Lake Superior coast in Michigan. Kateri’s father was a white Christian man who only went along with the name his wife chose because it honored a woman who was the first Native American to be proclaimed a saint by the Catholic Church. Kateri’s mother died from pneumonia when Kateri was just six years old, and shortly after her mother’s passing, her father brought her to the “Native Christian Mission,” a residential school for Native American children located in Copper Harbor. Six months later Kateri’s father died from a heart attack.

Kateri’s first year at the school was horrific. Before her father had dropped her off, she had sunk into a depression from missing her mother. When she entered the school, the requirements incited more loss. She was forbidden to use any of her Native language and was forced to have her long, beautiful, black hair cut to just below her ears. Later that year, she’d hear of her father’s death, but not be allowed to go to his funeral.

Her classmates became her family out of necessity, but it was a balancing act. She couldn’t appear to become too close to any of them, for fear the nuns would separate her from them. She observed the nuns and priests watching her and her classmates… putting punishments in place if one child would cling too closely to another whether in the classroom or at play. The only thing it seemed they wanted us to cling to was “their religion,” she’d remember in retrospect. She’d observed the scolding's, the slaps on the hand with a ruler, or students being sent to detentions in the basement of the building where she knew she never wanted to visit. She’d heard the rumors. She’d seen the faces of the children who came back from the “dark place,” as it was known in the whispers between schoolmates she trusted. There were also the classmates who’d supposedly done something wrong and never came back up from that place below ground level.

Over time, she sensed who she could trust. Her closest friend was a boy given the name Noah who’d been “dropped off” at the school like she had, a year earlier. He was two years older than Kateri and modeled to her how to stay off the radar and out of harm’s way as a student at the school. He would communicate with his eyes without saying a word to her. She’d catch his glance and immediately become silent. She knew by his look if there were some listening ears around that wouldn’t take kindly to their friendship.

As Kateri grew accustomed to this forlorn setting, she found something to look forward to; the winter season. An unknown generous donor had supplied all students with ice skates so that they could skate on the pond close by. Kateri had wobbly ankles at first, but by her third winter she’d gained her balance and gracefully maneuvered her way around the pond, as she watched Noah play hockey. All the children had taken their share of falls on the ice, some resulting in tears, but skating became an outlet for Kateri where she felt joy… for a change. Happy that she was out in nature with her feet gliding on the earth. Skating had helped her to feel calm and free… unlike any church service or religious instruction the school had pushed. There might be a supervisory nun at the pond keeping an eye on the students skating, but they were usually not within listening distance. A conversation could be had even if it was just while gliding by and speaking to a classmate quickly and then skating backwards next to them again to finish a thought. In movement, one could conceal much more easily. It was while skating, Noah shared his given Native name - Bizindaage Oshkiinzhig, (Listening Eyes), a name she thought was truly reflective of the wisdom he embodied.

One winter going into spring, the ice was very thin. The summer before some neighborhood children had put goldfish into the pond without permission. Not being too cold a winter the fish remained active underneath the ice. One could see the gold fins shimmering beneath. Kateri boldly skated above them gleefully, following them to the edges of the shore smiling brightly as the ice made sounds of cracking underneath. The other children kept their distance, afraid they might fall in if they ventured too close. When she started to skate back towards the middle, Noah called out loudly, “I shall call you Babaamishimo Baagaa Mikwam” (Dances On Thin Ice). Upon hearing the Ojibwe language spoken, the supervisory nun turned to see who’d said that. Kateri quickly shot a look at Noah to be quiet and careful. The children were then herded back to the school and sent to their appropriate quarters. That was the last day Kateri saw Noah.

Three days went by and she saw no sign of him. She felt panicked. She believed he was sent to the “place below ground” never to return. She wondered if that would be her fate as well? One night she was crying about Noah and one of the nuns saw her.

“Why are you crying Kateri?” asked Sister Mary.

“I’m crying because I have not seen my fellow classmate… Noah. I’m wondering if he is ok,” she said timidly.

“He’s not your concern Kateri. Instead of crying for him. Pray for him. Pray for yourself as well,” Sister Mary said with stern compassion.

That evening, Kateri was woken in the middle of the night by Sister Mary. She was told to put on warm clothes and bring nothing with her. Fearfully, Kateri complied, except she hung her skates around her body and wore a bulky sweater to keep them hidden.

Sister Mary drove her to the harbor and spoke with a man named Harper who was in charge of the freighter soon heading out on Lake Superior. Sister Mary handed Kateri over to the man. Kateri looked down at the ground feeling a bit fearful. When she looked up, she saw their hands exchange money, but she didn’t know who was giving who money and for what purpose. Despite her confusion, something in her was already saying to forgive them both, despite her own fate. “Forgive them Lord, for they know not what they do…” she thought to herself as all the forced religious training rose to the surface. Sister Mary gave Kateri a perfunctory hug and left hastily.

Harper led Kateri to the hull of the boat which contained a dark, small room with a cot, toilet and a little porthole. Harper left her in the room and shut the door behind him. Kateri put her ear up to the door and heard him talking to someone “about the ice on the lake…if the boat would be able to venture through it… while traveling to Whitefish Point.” She then walked over to the porthole and took a look out at the icy water. “Whatever happens here,” she thought while giving herself a hug, “I will find a way to freedom.” She then got on her knees and prayed. “Dear Jesus, God, Great Spirit… or whatever wondrous, loving source in the universe by any name who will conspire with me…please keep me safe as I find a new home. Let me also be greeted with the kind of protective love like I knew with my friend Noah.”

Suddenly, she heard the engine and felt the ship move, cracking the ice in front while moving forward. The boat had travelled for a few hours when she finally ventured outside the room to see if it was safe to move about. She climbed the nearest stairs and peaked out from the top step and saw no one. There was another flight of stairs to the top deck that she felt compelled to reach. Once there, she saw no one on the front end. She peaked behind her and saw Harper talking with a crew member, but he didn’t see her.

When she looked forward again, she saw a coil of rope attached to a cleat hitch on the side of the front deck. She quickly ran to it, threw it over the side of the boat, climbed over while grabbing the rope and lowered herself down as fast as she could. She could see the 3 feet or so of water between the hull of the boat and the iced over lake; a channel created by the boat breaking through the ice. Once she shimmied down to where her feet almost touched the water, she placed them on the hull as she jumped back from the boat with all her might while letting go of the rope. She landed on a soft snow mound, perched on top of the ice laden mass of Lake Superior. She took a breath, put her skates on and began skating as fast as she could while watching for cracks or holes in the ice. When the sky grew lighter, she could see the distant shore of Canada. Minutes later, she saw two men ice fishing closer still, then the land appeared. She started to cry, knowing her prayers were being answered.

The father and son, members of the Ojibwe Tribe greeted her warmly, but with disbelief. Kateri skated up to them in total exhaustion, hardly getting her words out through her deep sobs. They could not believe their great, good fortune to be able to save this young Native girl skating her way across the “Big Lake.” They brought her home and introduced Kateri to the woman who would become her second mother as she eventually was adopted by this family with welcoming arms. Kateri, had found a new home and family.

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Kateri arrived at her found family’s home and greeted her adoptive mother with a hug, and showed her the newspaper and headline.

“I’ve not been able to read the article, as you know my story, …memories of the school bring up lots of pain for me. Pain, I have numbed…much like the cold it was born out of… There’s a reporter wanting to speak with me about my childhood there. I’ve not called him back…at least not yet.”

Kateri’s mom reached over and held her hand. She spoke softly, but decisively, “As you well know dear daughter, rivers, ponds, and lakes in extremely cold climates freeze over in the winter. In the spring as they thaw, the sound can be quite violent especially if the freeze has been severe. Yet at the end of the intense thawing, cracking, and breaking period, the waterways open up again and become true to their nature- both life-giving and life-carrying. Kateri… even though the “freeze” saved your life so many years ago… it is the “thaw” that will save you now. Life is giving you the opportunity to feel everything now, in a way you couldn’t let yourself before. You’ll heal your past pain by speaking about your childhood experiences…don’t hold back. And… don’t forget, there are Native children today who need to hear your story. It will act as a passageway to align them with their own truth.”

Kateri wept as she listened to her mother’s wisdom. As Kateri left to drive back to her own place, she kissed her mother on the cheek and said, “your words have not fallen on deaf ears. I will share my story with all who will listen.”

Soon thereafter, Kateri called back the reporter from the Copper Harbor News.