Legislature camp about better lives A4
REGINA When asked if he’s had a good life, he couldn’t say yes, but Prescott Demas wouldn’t change a thing.
“It’s all those experiences in my life that have moulded me into who I am today,” said Demas. “I have to accept everything — the bad that comes with the good and the good that comes with the bad.”
The 47-year-old Sioux man has been the voice and face of the Justice for Our Indigenous Children camp that was set up over 100 days ago in front of the Saskatchewan Legislative Building.
Set up in protest of the not-guilty verdicts in the deaths of 15-yearold Tina Fontaine and 22-year-old Colten Boushie, the camp is meant to raise awareness about how the Canadian justice system — and other Canadian institutions — is failing Indigenous youth, something Demas is familiar with.
Growing up in the small community of Wheatland, just outside Rivers, Man., Demas was a curious child.
“To me it was freedom because there was no boundaries. I could go walk out across the highway, walk out into the bush, out to the river, to the valley.”
When he was 10, his parents split up. His mother took it hard. Feeling like she couldn’t care for Demas and his brother and sister, she sent them to live with Demas’s dad in Winnipeg. There, Demas joined his dad, step-mom and five older stepbrothers.
It was there where his curiosity — which had plenty of room to roam in Wheatland and the surrounding natural world — started getting him in trouble in a city with more boundaries and more rules.
Despite having a loving family and home, he spent most of his time on the street. Faced with racism, he became ashamed of being Indigenous.
“I think I find myself fortunate to not have got put into foster care or a group home or something like that because, I was in court quite a bit.”
But his kids weren’t so lucky. After hitchhiking to Saskatchewan at age 15 for his grandfather’s funeral, Demas went back and forth between Regina and Winnipeg several times over the next couple of decades.
During a stint in Winnipeg at around age 25, he met a woman and had a child, but after Demas got into trouble with the law and spent some time in Stoney Mountain Institution, his daughter was apprehended from her mother by Child and Family Services (CFS).
After doing his time, Demas got a job working in a window factory. He had his own place and was doing everything he could to get his daughter back, but one day, after the one and only time he missed a visit, he was told he couldn’t see her anymore. She’d been adopted.
“I did take it hard because I started drinking,” he said. “I drank pretty hard.”
Drinking and drugs became part of his life in Winnipeg and in Regina. He stole to feed himself; he stole to survive.
He ended up in another relationship and eventually had two more children. All of them were taken by social services — all of them lost to a system that denies them their identity and their culture, he says.
When his oldest daughter aged out of the foster care system, she also turned to drugs and alcohol. Demas said there are no supports for Indigenous kids after they age out, and without a connection to their family and culture, they are left to their own devices.
“Those are the coping mechanisms that they learn,” he said. “They’re not willing to go into the system and ask for help because how do you go and cry on the shoulders of the people who’ve oppressed you for so long ?”
Instead of funding white families to care for Indigenous children, Demas said money should be spent on supporting Indigenous families.
“If you keep our kids in our communities, at least when they start to age and they start to grow out, at least they have an identity.”
While Demas cannot get back the time lost with his own kids, he has been inspired to try and make it different for other Indigenous families. Two years ago, he came back to Regina and joined a protest camp outside of Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada office. There, he met a group of people he could finally respect and connect with.
At the current camp, he has taken on the role of holding down the fort during the day, while the others are at work or school. He doesn’t have a full-time job, but works odd jobs here and there, making enough to survive.
“I’m glad I don’t have no job because somebody has to stand here and somebody has to be able to take that time to commit themselves,” he said.
Although facing eviction from the park, Demas and his team are steadfast in their attempt to start a dialogue to improve the lives of Indigenous people.
“This government does not want to reconcile, but its people do,” he said. “Its people are starting to become aware. These people are starting to become awoke.”
And despite a difficult life, Demas has found his calling.
“I’ve done a lot of looking into myself and I’m in the right place. I believe that,” said Demas.
“I’m standing with the right people.”
If you keep our kids in our communities, at least when they start to age and they start togrowout,at least they have an identity.