March 23 – Queen Charlotte

It’s day two of the all-Islands action at the dryland sort. A colourful, honking convoy of cars, trucks and a large yellow bus, all transporting supporters from Massett and Port Clements, is on its way to the site. Several of the vehicles have Haida Nation flags flying from poles anchored to their hoods and back bumpers, and many of the passengers are waving and smiling. These people have travelled to the south end of the Island in support of the action being taken by the Islands community. A loud round of applause greets them as they arrive on site.

Approximately 150 people are gathered, including a spry-looking Chief Gaahlaay, who recently celebrated his 100th birthday. We listen carefully as Guujaaw and Arnie Bellis, hereditary Chiefs from Massett and Skidegate, community leaders, and guests take turns addressing the crowd. Each one of the speakers stresses it is crucial that we work together in caring properly for Haida Gwaii, because if we don’t do it, no one else will. It is also pointed out, more than once, that people of the Islands are very much intertwined. As I listen to the speeches, I notice that all of the speakers’ voices are powerful and carry well. There is no need for bullhorns here.

More people are invited to speak. Diane Brown says she’s here today for her baby granddaughter. She wants to make sure that when Taang Guu Naay grows up, she’ll be able to gather food from the beaches and ocean, and find cedar and pure medicine in the forests. “Fish need forests and forests need fish,” Diane concludes matter-of-factly. And it really is as simple as that.

“My heart is with all of you,” Bo Dick tells the gathering. “You’re shining so brightly, it can be seen all around the world.” He announces that his people have sent to all people of Haida Gwaii a gift of a carved, supernatural-dog mask, which, in his culture, represents guardianship and loyalty. We watch as the copper-tongued, elongated mask is placed in the fire, and we listen to drumming and a song sung softly. Flames rise, cradling the mask and the accompanying offerings of food. Drifts of smoke begin carrying these gifts on a journey to the spirit world. A woman from Queen Charlotte City stands quietly for a very long time, watching the mask char in the fire, and her face is peaceful.

The people standing on the road are respectful and courteous when stopping vehicles. Almost all of the drivers and passengers give a wave from their windows as they pass by.

Travis, a young man from Sandspit, sits down beside me and we talk for awhile. He and his wife are expecting their first baby, and he can’t stop grinning about it. I know how he feels. I’ve recently become a Nuni for the first time and can’t stop grinning about it.

Later in the day, I’m not watching where I’m going, and I crash into Willard Wilson, who, after he dusts himself off, tells me he and a couple of other folks are “making a run into town”. They return only minutes later carrying trays of goodies from the bakery, and large cardboard boxes filled with fresh fruit—bright green grapes, fat yellow bananas, and dozens of oranges. Melinda Pick tells me donations have been plentiful: Cakes, cookies, plump muffins, and hearty sandwiches magically appear each day.

Sid Crosby is helping to keep the site tidy and organized. He never seems to sit down, and is happiest when he’s hammering nails, hoisting tables, and lifting heavy boxes.

And just as I’m feeling warm, and happy, and full of hope for Haida Gwaii, I remember that I have a two-hour dental appointment tomorrow morning.