Al Harrington, an Ojibwe at Kanehsatà:ke

Text & Photos : Ninka North

I first met Al Harrington at the Kanesatake¹ Pow Wow. At the time, I didn’t understand what set him apart from the other dancers, but as I approached him, I noticed his natural reserve, that subtle trait that marked his cultural difference. Because although we’re in our territory, Al, who is Ojibwe, is an English-speaking.

Al comes from Iskatewizaagegan First Nation
#39 FN², a reserve on the shores of Shoal Lake on the Ontario and Manitoba border, but has lived in the Mohawk community of Kanesatake³ for the past twenty years. In his native language, Al is known as “Wabskimiikwaan”.

The origin of the name “Ojibwe” probably comes from the term “ozhibii’oweg” meaning “those who keep track of their vision”. The Ojibwe language is also called “Anishnaabemowin”. Originally from the Atlantic coast, this people later settled inland.

The Ojibway⁴ belong to the Anichinaabe group. This group also includes the Algonquins, Odawas, Ojibwe, Chippewas, Saulteaux, Nipissings, Potawatomis and Mississaugas.
Animists, they are known for the importance of spirituality and the imaginary in their traditions.

An activist’s journey

For the natives, nature and the elements are more than just concepts, and Al is no slouch when it comes to hunting in the forest or tossing a fishing out. When he’s not aboard a kayak watching for the first rays of sunshine on the river, or cooking bannock in his kitchen, he’s involved in his community with a dynamism that seems unfailing.

Al has worked hard to revive the tradition, setting up the Kanesatake pow wow in 2009 and Montreal pow wow in 2013, and was the driving force behind Round-dance in Montreal.

TikTok creator and active on social networks, he was the former director of “Round House Cafe”, ⁵, a project working for the social reintegration of marginalized people; a living space dedicated to First Nations serving coffee and hot meals at Square Cabot, familiar to Indigenous homeless. As a social worker at the Montreal Native Friendship Centre, he carried out a number of missions there, and in 2018 set up the “Wolf Pack”, a night intervention group working with Montreal’s Indigenous homeless. In October 2019, Al acted as mediator for the Rotinonheseshà:ka ne Kanehsatà:ke⁶, the traditionalist Mohawks of Kanesatake.

In October 2019, he appeared alongside Katsi’tsakwas Gabriel⁷, an artist and native rights activist of the Onkwehón:we who was spokesperson for the nation during the Oka crisis (crisis pitting the Mohawks against the army in 1990).

Today, as the he has played the role of mediator in October 2019, acted as mediator for the “Rotinonhseshà:ka ne Kanehsatà:ke”⁸, the traditionalist Mohawks of Kanesatake, and appeared alongside Ellen the nation’s activist and spokesperson during the Oka crisis⁹that pitted the Mohawks against the army in 1990¹⁰.

This event, caused at the time by the violation of ancestral land for the expansion of a golf course, raised a wave of insurrection, leaving a bitter taste in both camps that has unfortunately not faded with time…

To ease lingering tensions in the community, Al Harrington went on a week-long fast to call for a moratorium on real estate development on disputed land west of Montreal¹¹; an initial territory of 689 square kilometers drastically reduced to 11.88 ^km2.

When Wet’suwet’en challenges the colonial system

During our interview, we sat down in front of his house, under the shade of the trees, and talked about the Wet’suwet’en’s crisis¹², preceding Covid’s pandemic by a few weeks. We both knew that containment was not going to slow down the progress of the pipeline project.

Work began despite an avalanche of protests from First Nations and environmentalists. Like many native, he took up the cause of hereditary chiefs and First Nation members in British Columbia who opposed the pipeline project. In February 2020, he had demonstrated in front of the RCMP in Montreal and then on the solidarity roadblocks erected on the Oka road during the Wet’suwet’en Nation’s standoff with the government and Coastal Gaslink.

The crisis showed that, despite the signs the alarming signs of climate crisis, fossil fuel development continued on a large scale, whatever the cost, on a massive scale. Denouncing the illegal exercise of colonization, it called into question the decision-making system of gang leaders created by government structures.

Before colonization, the function of hereditary chiefs, their initial role within communities, was not only economic. Their leadership took into account the environment, which, like all forms of life, was sacralized, because it was the symbolic heritage they passed on to future generations.

Professor Borrows’ interview in The Globe and Mail¹³ discusses the problems associated with reserve management by band systems :

“Prior to colonization, there would have been well-understood mechanisms to resolve disputes such as the proposed pipeline, which crosses multiple house territories and has potential impact on fish, game and forests. Over time, those mechanisms weakened, under assault from a government-imposed band and council system to which industry and government gravitated”¹⁴

Today, denial persists. Yet no one can deny the nuisance caused by these “great black snakes” of oil that criss-cross the land, spreading their deadly venom into the water tables when they leak or spill accidentally¹⁵. In 2016, Husky Energy was responsible for a 250.000-litre oil spill¹⁶ west of Saskatechevawn, affecting the health of indigenous people and wildlife.

Kanehsatà:ke, the terrible child of colonization

When I came, Al showed me around the pine forest on his quad bike. With its century-old trees and carpet of moss, it exudes a magical atmosphere. The heady scent of pine needles and the deep green of the forest make you forget the historical conflict that took place in these coveted lands.

– It was the missionaries who brought the seeds to consolidate the sandy banks, he tells me.

Of the ancestral territory of the Kanien’kehá:ka, only a few kilometers remain, site of lawlessness yielding to the hold of shacks where dreams are sold, in the middle of a road crossing historic pine forests…

The pine forest, a dispute that has never been resolved, is still a hot topic in the community, as these lands are the roots of a people displaced several times during colonization. In more ways than one, the magnificent century-old pines that cover this territory, reduced by the vagaries of history, are precious.

The Kanien’kehá:ka’ forebears planted the seeds brought by the missionaries. Tied to their history, these pine forests are the expression of their struggles and identity.

In fact, when referring to these people, we should no longer use the exonymous term Mohawk¹⁷, which was once attributed to them by their Algonquin enemies, but Kanien’kehá:ka, which is their original name.

What really stands out is the disturbing truth that the Kanehsatake territory has been carved up like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle over the centuries.
To understand this oddity, we need to go back to colonization, when the Sulpicians of the Seigneurerie des deux Montagnes sold neighboring parcels to white settlers, erecting an invisible cultural boundary with the aboriginal community.

In 2010, the Norfolk company also attempted the same process for real estate projects.

A people without land is a people that fades over time…

The territorial conflict affecting the Kanehsatake community is not new. The past is littered with incidents attesting to the cynicism with which the community was treated.

Witness the “two-dog wampum” displayed by Kanien’kehá:ka chiefs before colonial authorities in 1781. This ceremonial belt had been made in 1721, when the inhabitants of Kanehsatake moved from the island of Montreal to the Lake of Two Mountains. Witness the “two-dog wampum” displayed by Kanien’kehá:ka chiefs before colonial authorities in 1781.

This ceremonial sash was made in 1721, when the inhabitants of Kanehsatake moved from the island of Montreal to the Lake of Two Mountains.

Wampums are woven with mauve and white beads extracted from qualog¹⁸ and whelk¹⁹ shells. Used for diplomatic and commercial events, these belts symbolize treaties, alliances and agreements.

Here's the chiefs' statement to colonial authorities :

"This white line Father on the collar describes, as is our custom, the length of our lands, these hand-in-hand figures joining the Cross represent our fidelity to our religion which we all profess; the Body represents the fire of our Village council, the two Dogs, at each end, are to guard the Boundaries of our Lands, and if anyone disturbs our peaceful possession, they are to warn us by barking, and this is what they have been doing for the last three years²⁰https://journals.openedition.org/gradhiva/6059.

“Land back”, a slogan that is not likely to fade from consciousness…

In 1781, the Sulpicians and the colonial state disputed the ownership of the Kanien’kehá:ka. The missionaries claimed that these lands had been granted to them for their mission in their seigneury of Lac-des-Deux-Montagnes.

The wampum was officially presented as a land title before the Executive Council of Quebec, but its interpretation was skilfully distorted to discredit their ancestral rights and vindicate the Sulpicians.

Deformation, appropriation, one strategist after another… In 1741, a Sulpician missionary had already used this wampum to try to take control of the community by appointing chiefs, declaring:

Listen with submission and respect to your missionary fathers and obey them in all things they recommend you to do for the good of your souls(…). My children, every time you look at this belt, it will tell you that I am your father and great leader, and therefore at the head of all your affairs. […]²¹.

In 2021, after a series of twists and turns, the mayor of the commune of Oka declared the pine forest a municipal heritage site, without consulting the Mohawk council, which once again reopened the debate; an action that compromises reconciliation with the Mohawks, since these parcels are legitimately part of their ancestral territory.

For years, Kanesatake has been a lawless zone, where drug traffickers compete for the land of the “pot”²² shacks – which have replaced the tobacco shops – while real estate developers are still trying to nibble away at the ancestral Mohawk territory to divide it up even further. One affair follows another, as do band councils, but nothing changes…

Among them is the environmental incident that has been going on for years, despite the health risks. Just outside Oka, behind the trees that line the road, the resentment and insubordination of the community’s inhabitants mingle with the toxic fumes from the landfill on Rang St Jean and its discharge into the water table. This area, where silence weighs heavily on the unsaid, is now at the heart of political debate. And not for the first time.

When it comes to Oka and the Mohawk community, the federal government and Quebec are endlessly tangled. It has to be said that this unresolved page of history still leaves a bitter taste today…

The territorial wars initiated by
the Europeans when they landed
on this “Terra Nullius” have left
their mark on the shifting
sands of history…

Some Kanien’kehá:ka fought on the side of the British, others on the side of the Americans, and others were repeatedly displaced by the French Sulpicians, only to find themselves a minority among the white settlers.

This is the story of more than three centuries of depriving these peoples of their native lands, of the roots without which no nation can claim an identity; an ugly story that is now being compounded by the interests of international criminal groups taking advantage of this privileged space on the water’s edge.