Leonard Atonnion Bordeau, retired kanien’keha’ka iron-worker

It’s a day like there have been too few this summer, a day when the sun beats down and revives the colors of the landscape and the thoughts running through our heads. As I look up, I embrace the deep blue of the sky, that blue that can seem so intense when the humidity of the climate doesn’t assault it with a flock of clouds…

Today, I have an appointment with Leonard Bordeau, an elder of the Kahnawake Bear Clan. Leonard is no stranger to me, as he was one of the first people I met at the Mohawk community’s annual powwows, even if we only exchanged glances.

At the time, I remembered him wearing a red shirt and a bandana with the American flag surmounted by a porcupine roach, the traditional mohawk headdress that once hung from the lock of hair adorning the top of a shaved head.

After crossing the Mercier Bridge, you enter the community, and the first thing you notice are the red stop signs surmounted by the Mohawk word “Testan” (STOP). The reserve is well-maintained, with The reserve is well maintained, with roads lined with tree-shaded houses.

Leonard lives in the heart of the Kahnawake reserve, in a house flanked by a beautiful lawn of an unlikely green at this time of year: it’s late August, an extremely rainy month despite the fires that have been burning in northern Quebec since March.

He greets me with a big smile and introduces me to his wife, before leading me into his kitchen. We settle in behind the table. We’ve been watching each other on the pow wows arena in silence for ten years, exchanging curious and amused glances. There was this latent period, because as a Westerner of European origin, I didn’t feel ready to tackle the history of this proud people, denied and instrumentalized by colonization, until I knew more.

You need time to observe each other in silence, to experience the moments of sharing that are pow wows, before understanding what’s left unsaid, all that hidden part of history. Taking photos isn’t a ticket into people’s heads, but beyond “seeing”, another truth emerges..

As for history books, many natives will tell you that the facts are biased, because of colonization.

After testing our ability to repeat a few words in Mohawk, and much laughter, Leonard invites us to sit around the kitchen table.

– My Mohawk name is Atonnion, he says, taking a seat opposite us.
– Can I know his meaning ?
– I don’t know, told he in laughing. Actually, my grandfather gave me the mohawk name and when I was younger, I wondered. What does that mean ? But even him, he didn’t know. It must be a name for many many years, three hundred years ago, perhaps for a bird or an eagle…

He gets up to take a drink of water, sits back down and takes a breath before giving me a few snippets of his life. Leonard, or should I say, Atonnion is born in 1946 and is 77 years old. He and his wife celebrated 54 years of marriage in June. They have three children, two girls and a boy, ten grandchildren, five girls, five boys, and six great-grandchildren.

– Four boys and two girls, he adds.
As in most native families, there are many children and several generations intertwine at full speed, for it is an essential value to perpetuate life.

– I’ve spent most of my life here, since 1982 and retired in 2011, at the age of 65. I’ve been living here most of my life, except when I was younger, I worked in the U.S. in the States. Maybe eight, nine different states. Michigan, Pennsylvania, Ohio, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Vermont, Ontario.
Leonard worked in iron for 35 years.
– And I’ve even been to Greenland,” he adds.
I can see his eyes sparkling with memories.
– That was back in 1984. When we landed there in the middle of July, it was snowing. The weather was freezing…
– How long did you stay there?
– Maybe two and a half months.

When Atonnion started working in 1964, his father told him,
– You’re going to be a ironworker. Make sure you do your job well, because we don’t want to get a bad reputation. Otherwise, no one will want to hire us and we’ll be even more prejudiced, he recalls.
– Working on a construction site is a tough job that requires good management. You may go to work in the morning or not go home after work, but that’s one of the things we accept as iron workers, he said, pausing for a moment.
– You know you have to be careful, there’s always a chance of being injured, it’s unforgiving. Anything can happen when you’re on an 80-storey building, it’s a bit riskier than crossing the street… he says with a smile.

Atonnion had an accident. While working with a crane, it struck a high-voltage power line. He was knocked unconscious and his hand was partly burned. An ambulance came to take him to the Montreal General hospital, where he remained for two and a half months. He was off work for three years and underwent eight months of physiotherapy.

– Kahnawake’s ironworkers have acquired international renown over the years. But how did this specialization come about?

– The foremen noticed that our youngsters were playing on the bridge structure, without being affected by vertigo or the risk. That’s how they came to work on bridge and skyscraper construction.
They accepted to support their families, as there wasn’t much work to be done at the time. But as for vertigo, it’s neither a generality nor a special faculty.
– It’s more the stuff of legend, he laughs. At the time, there was work in Detroit, but not much here. Year after year, the number of iron-workers among us has increased.

– Were any of you involved in the construction of Manhattan skyscrapers?
– Yes, many of our men worked on the World Trade Center when it was being erected. They also worked on bridges like Staten Island and George Washington.

I look at him. There’s a certain melancholy in his face, muffled by his laughing eyes. But very quickly, as the conversation progresses, we sense his passion for life, his inner strength. He looks straight at me in the eyes, without blinking. The next thing I know, I’m on the slippery slope of pronouncing the Mohawk name…

– Leonard, are you a Kanien’keha:ka ? I pronounced with difficulty, making him smile.
– Yes, I am. “Kanien’keha:ka” is a more complex term for “Mohawk”.

Atonnion takes the time to explain Mohawk pronunciation, its particular phonetics where the K is pronounced like a G depending on its place in a word.

Having learned that the eponym term mohawk¹“man-eater” had been attributed to them by their enemies during the colonial conflicts; wars, it should be remembered, during which the natives were instrumentalized by the Europeans, I asked him,

– Is it pejorative to still use this name?
– Don’t really think about the actual meaning behind the word, its literal meaning. People in general, people from Montreal, when they talk about us, they’re going to say the Mohawk because they’ve probably never heard of Kanyen’kehà:ka²pronounce “Kanyokihaga”. Our People still call themselves Mohawk. The ones that still that can speak the language, said “Kanie’nkeha:ka” – the others who can’t, will say
“I’m a Mohawk”.
After catching his breath, he murmurs,

– I come from a nation of warriors. Other peoples know they can count on us, because we resist…
And after a silence,
– We’re always ready to stand up, he says.

These words express the endurance of the natives I met. It was this strength that immediately appealed to me, so great that it seems to thumb its nose at all the wounds inflicted by colonization.

The next moment, he adds,
– I have my language. I have my dancing. I have my beliefs. I have the way I do things. What I believe. And that makes me a very, proud person and strong.
And after a breathe, he tells,
– We, the Mohawks, we fight. We fight for ourselves against the outside, whether it’s there. And sometimes when we are not fighting with anybody, we fight with you. Just to keep this in mind, he says humorously. But we also fight through dialogue, like politicians to find solutions to conflicts…
– So, in that sense, yes, I am Kanyen’kehà:ka. I am strong. I’m part of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy and we’re strong.

The Mohawks are grouped into three communities : Kahnawake, Kahnesatake in Quebec and Akwesasne in Ontario. With a population of nearly 20,000, they are Quebec’s most populous Aboriginal nation
– We’re part of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy, he tells me.

The Confederacy comprises six different nations: the Mohawks, the Oneidas, the Onondagas, the Cayugas, the Senecas and the Tuscaroras.
There are about six Mohawk reserves. There is one in New-York, in the upper part of New York State, three in Quebec and two in Ontario. All the other groups are in Wisconsin, New York and Pennsylvania.

– We’re all over the place…” he laughs. We all have our own language, but we’re united. We meet each other and there’s a lot of respect in these exchanges.
Suddenly his face darkens,
– People often come to us with a settler attitude, surprised that we don’t speak French, but we’re Mohawks, he smiles, we speak English. Politicians say we have to protect the French language, but from what ? he asks, referring to the five million French-speaking Quebeckers.

– I want to defend my language because there are only two hundred of us in Kahnawake who speak our original language !

Atonnion taught Mohawk. Cayuga graduates go on to CEGEP, and become teachers in Kahnawake. The community has an immersion school for the younger generation. When children start kindergarten, they are spoken to in Mohawk until fourth grade. And the number of speakers is growing.

He explains that on some reserves, the specific language is dying out, for lack of people who practice it, and simply because the reserve’s population is too small.

– In such cases, we often send teachers to convert them to the Mohawk language, so that they don’t lose their native identity. It’s a kind of colonization he tells by laughing, but it’s for their own good and it’s of their own free will. We don’t impose anything on them, like the Westerners did with us back in the day…

Established after 1880, residential schools were religious schools financed by the government to assimilate aboriginal children into Canadian culture. The last one was closed in 1996. According to archives, an estimated 6,000 of the 150,000 children who attended them died³https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/residential-schools.

– Did you know about these establishments?
– Fortunately, no. I know a lot of people in Kahnawake who were kidnapped and put into care. I used to work in the fields a bit away from the reserve, and by sheer luck, it didn’t happen to me,
he tells, before letting the silence pass.
– At the time, there were two schools on the reserve, a large Catholic one and a smaller Protestant one. They were run by nuns who were generally tough. They forced us to speak English.

We learned French, math and all sorts of other things at school, but never the Mohawk language or our traditions.

Education was harsh, and physical punishment was commonplace. Those who returned lost everything about their identity, customs and language. Most didn’t want to talk about what they’d been through… he murmurs sadly.
– Did you have any tools for healing after colonization?
– There was no psychological support. There were healing circles to help people express what was in their hearts. I’ve seen a lot of tears. But,” he shrugs, “residential school survivors are old now.

There were some as late as the 80s. But as far as Kahnawake is concerned, the phenomenon ended in the 70s.

Pow wows are a crucial event in the lives of all aboriginal people. As medicine for the soul, these events have played a major role in strengthening native identity and recognition.

– When did you start organizing powwows again? I asked.
– The powwows never “came back” because before, there were no powwows in Kahnawake. It happened because we wanted to find a way out of the mentality towards us.
The Oka crisis in 1990 had a negative impact on the way Mohawks were perceived. People had preconceived ideas.
– They were afraid.

Putting an end to urban legends is a long-term process. And powwows were part of it. They made it easier for the community to open up to the world and put an end to many rumors, such as that their people had been totally decimated, or that they were dangerous.

The first gathering was held in 1991. Since then, family and competitive powwows have been held every year. The “public relations operation” succeeded and took a whole new turn, becoming a great moment of sharing with other nations and the whole world.

– What does it mean to dance on this day?
– It’s a special day for us, a day to share our traditions with other cultures. When I dance, I’m happy. I sweat because it’s terribly hot at this time of summer, it’s exhausting, but I smile! he says, his eyes sparkling. This summer, I took part in the Grand Entry as an “elder”. I did the opening in the Mohawk language, before the inter-tribal dances began.

Sometimes he brings his grandson or granddaughter to the pow wow.
Dancing is an experience of unity with others, an experience of reconnecting with ancestors and life. It’s an honor to dance. When powwows approach, he prepares well in advance. He goes into his basement and puts on some music, he tells me.

– There are competitions in different categories, he explains.
– In 1996, we formed a dance troupe and went to shows here and there, and one time we had maybe 24 dancers. I was one of the oldest and the youngest was maybe four. Unfortunately, some of them lose interest after a while, because they start a family..

From July 11 to September 6, 1990, the Mercier Bridge was blocked by the Mohawk Warrior Society of Kahnawake in support of the Mohawks of Kanesatake during the Oka crisis, causing countless traffic problems for residents of the Châteauguay region.

– Were you and your family affected by the Oka crisis?
– I was in my forties at the time, and yes, it had consequences; the army had organized a blockade of Kahnawake so that we wouldn’t join them. I remember that at the time, I sometimes left the reserve to go to work in the morning, and couldn’t get home in the evening. This caused logistical problems,” he recalls.
The stores couldn’t function because of a lack of supplies, and essential foodstuffs had to be rationed. Luckily, friends came to supply them.
– I was in my forties at the time, and yes, it had consequences; the army had organized a blockade of Kahnawake so that we wouldn’t join them. I remember that at the time, I sometimes left the reserve to go to work in the morning, and couldn’t get home in the evening. This caused logistical problems,” he recalls.
The stores couldn’t function because of a lack of supplies, and essential foodstuffs had to be rationed. Luckily, friends came to supply them.

– We had the army surrounding us, an army of 4,000 men. When we went to the grocery stores, we couldn’t find anything. The gas station was closed because there was no more petrol. The post office was closed. There was no mail. Everything was blocked. We couldn’t even get food. But fortunately for us, we had allies among the people of Châteauguay. At night, they would come into the bush to bring big bags of provisions,” he recalls.

I let him speak, already sensitized to this subject that we often prefer not to mention, because it’s still fresh in the memory of all Quebecker. Oka, known for a major incident that deployed the armed forces, Oka still, thirty-three years later…

A site comparable to one of the planet’s hot spots, where an “eruption” could occur at any moment. And for good reason: the matter has not and probably never will be settled, due to the spillover of unreflected colonization onto unceded lands, lands occupied by both natives and settlers.

– At the time, I wasn’t afraid. I worked in Valleyfield, a place frequented by carpenters, electricians, mechanics, all sorts of trades, most of them French. They’d call out to us in French, calling us “hawks”, looking for a fight… Everywhere we went, people were saying: “Maudits sauvages”.
I have nothing to add, out of respect perhaps, and because silence is perhaps the only attitude to adopt when emotion grips us by the throat. I was speechless in the face of this neurosis, unfortunately widespread throughout the planet, this fear of the other, of difference, when our universe unfolds a myriad of facets and colors that make it so beautiful.

We look at each other in silence.

– Has systemic racism persisted since it was denounced in the media? I ask.
– We’re still victims of prejudice and stereotypes. I’m not worried about that, I know who I am, I’m proud of who I am… Supposedly, nobody works, nobody pays their taxes. I’ve worked hard all my life, in the USA, in Canada. I’ve paid my taxes in both countries, and I’ve had to do my taxes all these years. Now that I’m retired, I get a pension that I think I’ve earned.

Unfortunately, the problem of racism isn’t going to be solved any time soon, as prejudice is hard-wired and passed down from generation to generation. But Atonnion remains hopeful that mentalities will change.

– Sure, there’s tobacco trading on the reserve, but we’re not criminals! he adds.

Then, the next minute, I told him about Wetsu’weten, because the “Wetsu’weten crisis”, as we might call the series of events that took place there during the winter of 2019, was reminiscent of that major event in Oka in 1990.

– Can we talk about the railroad blockade and the alliance formed with hereditary chiefs opposed to costal GasLink?
He nods gravely,
– The Wetsu’weten are not part of the Six Nations Confederacy. When it comes to defending our lands and fighting injustice, we’re united with all the Aboriginal nations of Canada, even if they’re not part of our confederation. The people of Kahnawake got together to discuss what we could do to help our friends in the West, and some even went to help them demonstrate.
And without giving me time to react, Atonnion continued,
– Every Indian nation in Canada feels the same way.

From the Mi’mak Nation in the East, to the Mohawks, Oneidas and Wetsuweten in the West, they all have problems with the Canadian government, because of the way they’re treated.

Ten years ago, there was a problem in South Dakota with the Sioux over a pipeline. The authorities went in and used water cannons. They wanted to run a pipeline through the reservation and did it without their consent. They sent dogs to attack them. I’m sure people are sick today,” he says sadly.

– Territory is an essential notion for all aboriginal nations,” I declared the next second. How do you feel about this constant questioning of your rights since the beginning of colonization?

– Every reserve in Canada has a problem with land claims. And here, we’ve got a big problem,” he says, in a voice where I feel the cold, sustained anger of an entire people.
Five hundred years ago, the Catholics came here. When “the robe was” (a reference to the priests), he says, which is how he refers to the quasi-dictatorial regime that took over the territory of their ancestors, they were given this land…

But before the Jesuits arrived, the whole territory belonged to them. Back then, it was something like 45,000 acres. But when the colonists settled on their reserve, they began to farm and build, gradually eroding their territory, which went to 13,000 acres. Merely a quarter… Since then, the situation has only worsened., under the eyes of the government and mayors. Commercial and real estate expansion continues.

– So, how are we going to get our land back? We’ve made several land claims, but there’s a limit to what we can demand from the government. Canada finally admitted they’d made a mistake, but Quebec didn’t admit it until ten years ago. On several occasions, we were promised negotiations, but each time, the parties involved backed out.

– Do you get the impression that the Band Council is working for you?
– Sometimes, yes… I used to sit on the Band Council. I sat on it for six years. We didn’t have any corruption on our council, we kept our books properly. But the fact is, we’re a small community. We’re accountable, transparent, which is not the case with reserves whose ancestral territories cover large areas. Politics can be very dirty. And it takes a long time to get things done…
– What problems does your community face?
– We need more funding. We lack the resources to safeguard the Mohawk language, and we have no

government funding. We need more teachers, more people interested in learning the language, but also economic development.
And after a silence,
– The government doesn’t want to give us more, but they have a fiscal responsibility to do so, because treaties were signed six, seven hundred years ago to that effect. They have to respect them, but that’s not the case. We have to prepare ourselves to be more autonomous, and set up a kind of economic development that allows us to earn money on our own. That’s one of the problems we’re facing.

Since the First World War, First Nations have taken part in the war effort, and many have distinguished themselves as snipers, scouts and code-talkers in Cree, such as Charles “Checker” Tomkins from Alberta. The values nurtured by the Army, and the employment prospects they opened up, continue to arouse their interest today.

Having met many military personnel during the summer powwows, I asked him if there was a large percentage of them in the community, as was the case in Akwesasne.

– Many of our young people join the Army. It’s a chance for them to live in an environment that respects them, to become mentally and physically strong, and to learn a trade that they can later exercise. In fact, we have a Legion Corps here, presided over by Ray Deer⁴https://www.qc.legion.ca/archive_2/219_2.html, « The Mohawk Legion Branch 219 ».

The community has a good relationship with the army. During annual pow wows, military personnel and native veterans are invited to take part.
There’s a military base in St Jean de Richelieu, a town with

forty kilometers from Montreal, where a pavilion of aboriginal spirituality has been erected; a yurt named “Sken:nen Kowa”⁵meaning haven of peace in mohawk, a long military tradition⁶first fort St Jean in 1666-1667.
– Our dance troupe is invited to their graduation of their young recruits, he tells.

To conclude our interview, I turned to the environment. The summer of smog and forest fires in British Columbia and northern Quebec has left its mark on people’s consciences. More than anywhere else, global warming is causing concern because of the speed of its impact in Canada. Like many of us, he is concerned about the alarming increase in forest fires. Fires encouraged by global warming, and industrial development that takes no account of it…

– And what about reconciliation?
Atonnion smiles.
– There’s reconciliation, and then there’s the government’s interests,” Atonnion says, barely hinting at his weariness with the grand communication operation that has been going on for the last ten years.

It’s true that this “reconciliation” has brought about a different view of Aboriginal peoples, focusing on the renewal of this scorned identity and lost rights, while forgetting to mention its appetite for the economic expansion of territories that have remained untouched to this day.

Like all the Earth’s First Peoples, these thousand-year-old ethnic groups, who have survived countless scourges, are being instrumentalized by a form of progress that threatens to entrench the survival of future generations.

But it’s not over yet, because I know that these peoples are resilient and that the seed of spirituality that has been passed down from age to age will enlighten them on the choices they will have to make in the years to come…