I almost cannot look. But I must. It is the very, very least I can do.

We can do. We must look, we must cry, we must allow our hearts to break in solidarity with the Indigenous Nations of our broken country.

This little but devastating tribute to the 215 long-dead and abused children of the Kamloops Indian Residential School erected in my neighbourhood shows that the revelations of the past few weeks have reached at least some people like never before. I deeply hope so. If this does not turn the corner on Truth and Reconciliation in Canada, nothing ever will.

Yet there is such a long way to go.

Most of us outside the Indigenous communities did not know that the Catholic Church, under despicable governmental policy, buried children — many practically babies — in mass graves on residential school properties. Not knowing in and of itself is a tragic result of our dreadful educational and divisive reserve systems, of our disinclination and refusal to understand the First Peoples so horrifically stamped down and damaged by our leaders.

Here is the truth of it. The children were stolen. They were abused emotionally, physically and sexually. They were malnourished. They were beaten for speaking their languages. They were terrified, sad, and uncomforted.

And then many of them died. Their tiny, broken bodies were not returned to their homes because of “costs.”

Those who did return alive were also broken, as were the generations to come. May I add here that considering the hell we have put them through, there is incredible strength and resilience among the First Nations that must be honoured by us all.

How many crimes do we see in the above? Are they even countable? Has anyone truly accepted accountability? While the term “cultural genocide” is generally agreed upon (by many) as an appropriate term, I’m not sure, for myself, even that it goes far enough.

The crimes have been committed. Somehow, Indigenous communities must move forward.

The remains of 215 children, and the many, many others lying in the cold earth across Canada, must now go home to rest. But there are more musts.

Words strangle in my throat when I think of the Catholic Church and its as-yet unforthcoming apology. Even if it does come in the next few days or weeks, it is so late, and has never been offered independently from an open heart, that I wonder how much it will mean. Can we believe the Pope is truly sorry, should he ever apologize? What is holding him back? Legalities? Finances? Does he object to the duress applied by the calls for apology?

The Catholics were not the only ones to operate residential schools, but they did run the lion’s share. Other religious organizations have apologized. I flatly do not understand. The apology must come for so many reasons. I hope it does not ring hollow when (and if) it does.

What I can understand is the rage behind, for example, the recent toppling of Egerton Ryerson’s statue standing before the university bearing his name. As of this writing, more than 300 faculty and many more staff have petitioned to have the institution renamed. If this brings anyone peace or emotional relief for even a moment, bring it on.

My God, what have we done? Why did most of us not even realize the extent of unconscionable actions by our government and religious organizations? Where do we begin to make it right? This is not yet even ancient history. The last residential schools were closed in 1996. A breath in time past.

And where are we today? Indigenous women are still being sterilized and verbally abused in hospitals. Men throw truck hitches at them on the streets resulting in murder. And on, and on.

Truth must precede reconciliation, but even the truths thus far provided are not underpinning the love and understanding and healing that must happen. We cannot continue in silence and ignorance and apathy.

****

If you Google the Kamloops Indian Residential School, you will see in the browser’s snapshot that it was founded in 1893 and became “extinct” in 1978. At the top, in a bright red bar, it says, “Temporarily closed.”

-Joanne Paulson