How a tipi in the middle of Red Deer is furthering truth and reconciliation

So where exactly is this tipi found when it’s up?

Perhaps you can see it from several blocks away, peeking over roofs from the backyard of Lynn and Corky Jonasson’s long-time abode on the corner of 51A Street and 41 Avenue.

CONNECTION & AN ‘ACT OF RESISTANCE’

Having lived at that address since 1982, Corky calls the tipi — raised only the last few years, and where she graciously welcomed rdnewsNOW — her ‘little act of resistance.’

“It’s common knowledge what happened in Canada’s history,” she says, alluding to the erasure of Indigenous culture through residential schools and colonization. “When COVID happened, it was very hard on our community, and the tipi became somewhat of a safer place for us to gather, sit outside, (breathe) fresh air and keep our distance.

“It’s taken on its own little life and more and more things happened — more beautiful things. We’ve had ceremonies in here, and it gave us a way to connect during a time when we were encouraged not to connect.”

She says, if anything, the tipi’s opened minds.

“We had a neighbour come over with a beautiful hand-woven rug from Mexico or Peru, and they said, ‘I want you to use this in your tipi.’ Another person gave us a musk-ox hide to use in here,” Corky recalls. “So it (the tipi) is not only something we’re very proud of; I get the feeling the neighbourhood is proud of it.”

EMBRACING AND RECLAIMING INDIGENOUSNESS

Corky represents the first generation of her lineage that did not attend a residential school or similar institution following multiple who did.

“When I was young, I tried to hide the fact I was Indigenous, that I had Indigenous blood. Now, I want everyone to know. I want people in my neighbourhood to know Indigenous people have always been here,” says Corky, who is Cree and has ties to Samson band in Maskwacis.

“I thought I’d face backlash, but it’s done nothing but bring a wider knowledge to my community and neighbours I’d never talked to before.”

A sanctuary, she says, the tipi serves as a reminder for her to embrace the Indigenousness that wasn’t able to flourish through her youth.

REMEMBRANCE THROUGH ORANGE RIBBONS

What are the most common comments or queries she fields about the tipi, she’s asked.

“If they have kids, it’s ‘Can we come see it?’ It’s like, absolutely. Other than that, they comment on the beauty of it. I have neighbours who say that every morning they wake up and look at the tipi, and that feels really good,” Corky says.

“After COVID settles down, I’d really like to have a community tea time. Come on in. Let’s talk, let’s visit.”

Many have also attended the Jonasson property to add orange ribbons and other paraphernalia to a tree display in their front yard, erected after the recovery of 215 graves at the former Tk’emlúps residential school site in B.C.

“That display really created not only hard conversations, but good conversations. It brought us together,” she says. “Those ribbons are still up there, and people keep hanging them. There are new ones all the time; little pictures and shoes.”

It’s said the trauma inflicted by residential schools will take seven generations to totally diminish.

Corky spends much time speaking with children, overseeing coming-of-age ceremonies, some of which have been done within the tipi. Work also takes her into schools, including Catholic ones.

The first time she did that was nerve-wracking, she admits. But it’s through that labour of love and spending time inside the tipi she’s helping those mired in the multi-generational healing cycle.

“At the end of these ceremonies, the person leaves with a sense of knowing how much they are loved and who they can turn to for support,” says Corky, whose husband does similar work with adults for Safe Harbour Society. “But it goes the other way too; the adult also must know they have a responsibility for that child. That got broken and lost along the way.”

POLES, PINS AND TEACHINGS

Naturally, when people are within a tipi, a circle is born.

The circle is a symbol of equality, says Corky, explaining that, “No one’s better. No one’s worse. There’s no hierarchy.”

“It also represents the woman. The fire is representative of what she brings to the home; a feeling of security and love. We’re within her robes, and she’s giving us safety,” she goes on.

“A woman was given the gift from the Creator where new life passes through her, and this is what our tipi represents; another circle of life. This is where we’d start teaching our children such things as the months you go hunting, the months you pick berries, and this is where we would start teaching about love, courage, honesty, humility, respect, truth, wisdom and kindness.

“Those poles are reaching up to Creator, All those good things the Creator gives us filters down into the tipi. When we pray, our prayers go back up. It’s a beautiful circle.”

Thirteen poles indicate the 13 moons, and two other poles are used for closing the flap at the tipi’s apex. Pins inside the entrance also bear teachings.

“In Cree, the word for woman is Iskwao, and the word for fire is Iskotew. Those words are very similar for a reason.”

by Josh Hall (Twitter: @Vancan19)

How a tipi in the middle of Red Deer is furthering truth and reconciliation

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