By Kirk Moss

The elegant furnishings and extravagant acoustic designs accompanied a somber tone and melancholy mood at the Royal Conservatory of Music last Friday night, as Koerner Hall commemorated the journey of Truth and Reconciliation.  A sea of orange shirts echoing the jarring sentiment, “every child matters,” sprinkled across the isles, with an array of Canadians, from all corners of the globe, gathered on Native Land.  Some considered themselves allies, while others were bleeding-heart liberal.  But from the various conversations, facial expressions and even standing ovations, it was crystal-clear that everyone was determined to do something in challenging and facing the truth of our nation’s contentious history and bewildering legacy.

Stories have always been front and center of how we celebrate, remember and reflect upon who we are as Canadians.  These tales tell of the how we see ourselves, and the manner in which we invite the outside world to see us.  The kindness of our hearts, and polite etiquette can often seem baffling when we’re forced to confront another unmarked burial ground infused with brutality and despicable acts of unfathomable violence. 

Jimmy Dick, a survivor of the dehumanizing Residential Schools, spoke with deep sorrow through the tearful tone of his voice.  Jimmy, as he’s fondly called by admirers and loved ones, used his conversational style to capture our attentive hearts, while making the truth sound as deadly as a lightning bolt.  His simple yet descriptive language painted images of a hauntingly traumatising atmosphere meant to terrify and terrorise the spirit, bodies and minds of infants. 

Such inhumane treatment shattered the tiny lives and humanity of countless precious toddlers who were stolen from the love, comfort and protection of their families, communities and homes.  For generations, many lived suffering in silence, consumed by addictions, abuse and endless post-traumatic conditions, now erased from our sanitised and varnished national narrative. 

Then, like a beacon of hope, inspiration and triumph, came Isaiah Cada’s thunderous voice climbing off the stage and into the rafters of Koerner Hall.  His chants and songs reverberated and engulfed the audience who

watched in awe of his impeccable talent. With two braids resting just below the back of his neck, the Ojibway artist, who grew up in Toronto, pounded the hand-held drum with every ounce of muscle in his body.  However, when he finally spoke about his relationship and memories of being raised by elders and knowledge keepers like Jimmy, it made every member of the audience gaze with admiration, struck by his graceful eloquence.  This night was dedicated to hearing, feeling and seeing the brilliant Indigenous artists from across Turtle Island; we were hosted by poet extraordinaire, educator and Nehitaw-Dene Michif, storyteller Zoey Roy.  She held court with ease, humour and her unique-way with words.

Accompanied by his classic guitar, the soft-spoken, yet riveting voice of Julian Taylor received a warm welcome to the stage.  His words layered in miles of humility and joyful appreciation, the three-time Juno winner expressed his gratitude for being among this exceptionally talented cast of Indigenous peers.  But in all truthfulness, he’s become quite the veteran Indigenous Canadian singer-songwriter whose timeless music breaks through artificial barriers, genre-boxes and cultural borders. 

Taylor’s sound straddles Bob Dylan and Bob Marley, with a hint of Johnny Cash, mixed in with a few notes of Gordon Lightfoot.  He’s always had an impressive way of blending words in his songwriting to create potent and thought-provoking lyrics.  One of his most recent standout hits, “Seeds”, which he performed, permeated the crowd’s sensibilities and fitted perfectly into the evening’s deeper meaning.  Almost effortlessly, his voice flowed through the Hall’s sound system as he sang: “they knocked you down, erased your name, you stood your ground and wouldn’t change, you’ve found your place now, standin’ alongside the trees, they tried to bury us, but they didn’t know we were seeds… You are a star and you are hope, smoke signals in the air evoke from the darkest depths that our hearts can be freed, they tried to bury us, but they didn’t know we were seeds.”    

Thus, as the truth continues to emerge from unidentified graves and unholy grounds, it’s becoming clearer that we are living in challenging times.  Our Nation has embarked on a journey of reconciliation, which first begins with facing, understanding and owning some painful truths.  However, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was not established as an emotional exercise, but rather stands as a reminder of our

responsibility towards our fellow Canadians. 

Healing takes time, patience and empathetic recognition, which demands our collective efforts in pursuing the ‘just-society’ we’re struggling to create.  Change takes courage, and it’s imperative for us to continue moving steadily and consistently throughout the years and generations making strides, taking baby steps, counting our gains, being proud of our progress, yet remaining undeterred and determined to make this land a place that shines with fairness, liberty and justice for our Indigenous Peoples.