NATIONAL INDIGENOUS PEOPLES DAY READING
Errol Sharpe wasn’t sure what to make of the Mi’kmaw elder seated among a group of much younger students. It was 1990, and Sharpe was in Truro, teaching a St. Mary’s extension course called The Political Economy of Atlantic Canada. The elder was Doug Knockwood. He only stayed a month and a half, leaving, he would later write, because “I didn’t feel academically inclined and had trouble spelling... I still have difficulty with [schooling]. I’ll never lose it, the residential school. It was with me my whole life. I just couldn’t shake it.” The next year though, Knockwood was back. And Sharpe, publisher at Fernwood Books, was intrigued by this soft-spoken man who “made an incredible contribution to class discussions.” The two got to know each other well (they became golfing buddies) and shared stories. Knockwood told Sharpe he’d always wanted to write a book about his grandfather. Sharpe encouraged Knockwood to tell his own story, and in 2014, they began recording a series of interviews that would become the book Doug Knockwood, Mi’kmaw Elder, published by Fernwood’s Roseway imprint in 2018. Knockwood passed away less than a month after publication, at age 88. What a happy accident Doug Knockwood turned up in that classroom where Sharpe was teaching, despite his reservations about schooling. If he hadn’t overcome his reluctance, we wouldn’t have had this inspiring and heartfelt memoir. I’ve been thinking recently about what I learned about Indigenous people and Indigenous history in school, and how most of it was flat-out wrong: at best, innocent mistakes f rom teachers who did not know better, and at worst outright misrepresentations and lies. I grew up ignorant of injustices like the residential school system, and remained that way for much of my adult life. I had never even considered the effects of intergenerational trauma until a Métis f riend who worked as a therapist talked to me about it. Doug Knockwood, Mi’kmaw Elder is not a history of the Mi’kmaq people, or a meditation on the lasting trauma of residential schools, or an exploration of culture. But those elements are, of course, woven through this one man’s story. What a man. And what a story. Knockwood spent his early childhood at Newville Lake, near Parrsboro, and has beautiful memories of his grandfather, known as “Blind Sam.” He was sent to the Shubenacadie residential school at age 5 (the RCMP came to enforce the order) and later went through difficult years marked by alcoholism, tuberculosis, living on the streets and finding himself in and out of drunk tanks. Eventually, Knockwood discovered AA. Not content with attending meetings, he began a program that would see addictions services in every Nova Scotian First Nations community. He became a respected drug and addictions counsellor, working all over Canada to support Indigenous people both as individuals and by providing support to their communities. Through Knockwood’s story, we see the effects of colonialism woven through his life and in the barriers he faced. But the overwhelming sense I felt f rom his book was one of joy, inspiration and a quiet kind of confidence. Scattered throughout the memoir are reminiscences f rom those who knew Knockwood, f rom f riends and colleagues to family members, including his children. National Indigenous Peoples Day is a day of celebration. It seemed fitting to read it this week. It’s a true celebration of one man’s life, told with honesty and compassion.