How these residential school survivors have not only healed, but are helping others

Fifteen years ago WaycobahFirst Nation in Cape Breton was no different from other Indigenous communities. Many of its people were still suffering the effects of trauma they endured at residential school as children.

Today, a group of residential school survivors in theMi'kmaq community of about 800 people on the western shore of Bras d'OrLakehave not only healed, they're reaching out to help others.

As part of a documentary for CBC'sAtlantic Voice, I paid a visit to understand the survivor group's secret for successand to learn about the legacy they are trying to leave their grandchildren's generation.

On that day a local kindergarten class had arrived to thank the elders for a unique gift hand-crafted regalia skirts and vests.

When these elders were young, their lives were much different from those of the visiting children. From 1930 to 1967, Waycobah's children, like hundreds of others in Atlantic Canada, were taken to Shubenacadie Indian Residential School in central Nova Scotia.

Beaten on first day of school

That's a day Sylvia Gould will never forget. She spent 10 years at the school during the 1950s.

"Dad took us in the back of the truck and drove us up there. They took us downstairs and they took all our clothes and they put some kind of stuff on uswhich stung like crazy. They put DDT in our hair and they gave us a bath and they cut our hair."

"And when they put me in the chair to cut my hair, I didn't want my hair cut," remembers Gould. "I broke down and I cried and cried and cried. So she took me off the chair and she told me no and she beat me."

Healing group launched

Gould is one of about 15 Waycobah residential school survivors who have been meeting once a month for 15 years to work on healing. Community nurse and fellow survivor Margaret Pelletier raised the funds to start the group and to hire therapist Andrea Currieto help.

Currie said there was no blueprint to follow and healing was slow to start because many survivors found it too painful to talk about their experience. They figured it out as they went along.

"First of all they realized they were notalone," said Currie. "There was a reason they had a hard time finishing school or keeping a job. Many survivors were triggered by any situation where they had someone in authority over them.

"Many struggled with addiction as self-medicating for memories they did not want to remember. Many found themselves in violent relationships because that's what they'd grown up with. Many had difficulty parenting."

Gould admits parenting was a challenge. "If they [the children]went to touch me here, that was like, 'Oh my God. Why am I getting so angry that my kid is touching me here and there?'" recalls Gould.

"I couldn't find the answer and then one day I found the answer. Because of the priest, what he was doing. Now you are seven years old and the priest is touching you and that's why through all those years, if somebody touches me I jump."

Gould, Pelletier and the other survivors were forced to wear uniforms and abandon their culture. They wanted a different legacy for their grandchildren. The survivors decided to make regalia for each kindergarten child.

Regalia is brightly coloured clothesdecorated with ribbons and hand-beaded Mi'kmaq motifs. It's worn for special events, like powwows, and for special occasions, like this day'svisit to the elders.

Little Evelyn Bernard is thrilled with her special new skirt. "I'm just proud of it because I like it," she said. "Because it has flowers on it and I like it."

Sheila Johnson's granddaughter is also in the class. "Oh my God. Every time she puts it on she starts dancing and she is so proud of her skirt."

Watching the children makes Pelletier emotional. "You're so proud of these little kids getting something about their culture back," she said. "When it was always told to us, they wanted to assimilate us into white society. Instead of trying to take it away, we are trying to give it back."

"It's bringing us back," said Gould. "When I see those children and they put on those skirts they come alive. They're dancing. We are bringing back what we never had."

This is just one of the initiatives launched by the group. They've also put up plaques about each survivor at the local school, they've developed a curriculum guide so schools can teach about residential school and they've taken a public speaking course so they can educate others.

Currie saidnow that they are healing, the survivors want to share their success with others because they realize many survivors across Canada haven't had the same opportunity.

"It didn't take a whole lot of money," said Currie. "It's not rocket science. People need to get together. They need to have the comfort of each other's company and they need to be able to talk about what happened to them."