And now:[EMAIL PROTECTED] writes: ----- Original Message ----- Sent: Saturday, October 09, 1999 4:58 PM Friday October 8 4:20 PM ET Warriors Are Symbol Of Native Militancy In Canada By Andrea Hopkins BURNT CHURCH, New Brunswick (Reuters) - The Mi'kmaq warrior pulled down his camouflage mask and stubbed out his cigarette when the word came that a mob of white fishermen was ready to attack the wharf he had sworn to defend. The whites never came -- it had been a false alarm. But later, hunkered beside a smoky campfire, the warrior named Gerald passed a marijuana joint and explained he was ready to sacrifice his life to protect the rights of aboriginals in Atlantic Canada to fish out of season. ``I am ready to die tonight,'' he said quietly, the light of the fire flickering over his fatigues and dark eyes. ``I will die an Indian, proud. Not ashamed.'' Gerald and the other young members of the Mi'kmaq Warrior Society reminisced about the past standoffs and confrontations they've taken part in, and discussed the state of native rights in Canada. The image of Indians dressed for combat occupying or blockading public property -- a wharf, a bridge, a government office, a golf course -- has become the symbol of native militancy in Canada in the past 10 years. In Burnt Church, an impoverished Indian reserve overlooking the rich Miramichi Bay lobster grounds, the warriors were called in this week. This time to guard native fisherman from the rage of the whites with whom they share the fishery. In September, the Supreme Court of Canada, based on old treaty rights, ruled natives could harvest Atlantic Canada's fisheries without license or limit. Since then, nonnatives, worried about a depleted resource, have become increasingly frustrated as Indians have set their lobster traps off season while the whites sit idle on shore. Last Sunday the situation changed from tense to violent and several natives were hurt. The warriors were called. They came from across New Brunswick, mostly men, members of the formal but secretive militia organized years ago to protect the East Coast Mi'kmaq and their property from outsiders. Gary, who would not reveal his last name, has spent the past few nights vigilantly patrolling the Burnt Church reserve. He had intended to go on a hunting trip. ``Then I got the phone call from the war chief,'' he said matter-of-factly as he searched the blackness from a pickup beside the dark Burnt Church wharf. When the call came, he dropped everything, left his home on the Big Cove Indian reserve in eastern New Brunswick and drove north to Burnt Church and into the middle of a the dispute. Twenty to thirty others joined him. They donned fatigues and traditional headbands, erected tepees along the fishing wharf, and hoisted the blood-red warrior flag overhead. ``I used the term loosely, but we own it (the wharf) for now,'' said Clifford Larry, one of the war chiefs for Burnt Church. ``It is still a government wharf, and we'll honor that, but right now we are here.'' Little is known about the warrior societies that take over as guardians when disputes get ugly. In Canada's most famous modern showdown between natives and authorities, the 1990 Oka standoff in Quebec, Mohawk warriors held security forces at bay for 11 weeks. During the crisis a police officer was killed. The drama blew up when Quebec police stormed a roadblock set up by Mohawks near the village of Oka, near Montreal. The Indians were trying to stop the local municipal council from extending a golf course onto their ancestral lands. The standoff, which ended after the Mohawks surrendered to Canadian armed forces, heralded a new militancy among Canada's natives and left a bitter legacy. ``The warriors are very specifically chosen -- they are not called up from within the ranks. It is an honor bestowed upon those who have the diplomatic qualities needed to do that job,'' said Krystyna Sieciechowicz, who studies native culture as a professor of anthropology at the University of Toronto. ``They are called warriors but they are really diplomats,'' she said. ``They have a dual role, they ... do the negotiating (during a standoff), but at the same time they will go to battle if the chiefs decide.'' War chief Larry said the job is simple. ``We are the protectors of the people. There are these others, the RCMP, the police, but we are a sovereign nation, and have our own protectors,'' he said. He added the warriors do not decide when they are needed, but respond only when asked to do so. ``Our values have to reflect the community's values. If the community asks us to stand down, we go home.'' In Burnt Church, the warriors mingle with natives from the reserve. Everyone is welcome at the informal blockade but warriors prevent reporters from going onto the wharf, where native fishermen continued Friday to ply their trade. At a standoff like Burnt Church, the warriors are supported by the community. Coffee and sandwiches, cigarettes, warm gloves flow to the front lines, and expenses like gas and lodging are often funded by neighboring tribes. ``I feel safer with my own people than I do with them (the RCMP),'' said Lorna Augustine, a young native from Big Cove. ''I'm glad they are here.'' The warriors declined to say if they are armed. One young warrior, wearing crisscrossed black ammunition belts across his thin chest, peeked into one of the long thin pockets on one belt. Catching a reporter watching, he pulled up the corner of a candy bar. ``Butterfinger,'' he said with a wide smile, before pushing the chocolate back into hiding. Reprinted under the Fair Use http://www4.law.cornell.edu/uscode/17/107.html doctrine of international copyright law. &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& Tsonkwadiyonrat (We are ONE Spirit) Unenh onhwa' Awayaton http://www.tdi.net/ishgooda/ &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
