URBARIGI-NOTES: the voice that shook the podcast

In the process of creating The Urbariginal podcast, I interviewed dozens of people. Only a small number of them were chosen after my work partner, Carolina, and I arrived at the main themes and the direction the project would go.

There were so many great stories, and so many people who shared incredible experiences.

Some interviews, sadly, were left out – only because they didn’t fit the story we were telling.

Thankfully, people will still be able to hear those interviews when they are released as part two of the project, involving the public library.

The voices we did use all played an important part in shaping the story. There were some, though, that really helped us find the path, to see where the journey needed to go. One of those voices was Sandra Dudoward.

Sandra, who holds the name Sim’ooygyet’m Hanax’a, has long been a prominent indigenous voice, having written and spoken extensively on rights and title, particularly as it pertains to her tribe and the community of Lax Kw’alaams. She has also contributed biographical information and recordings of my dad to learning institutions.

But I didn’t speak to her just because of her knowledge.

I knew that Sandra had visited my dad at the hospital just before he passed. Her retelling of that day showed just how close they were and how much he meant to her and that, with her knowledge, is why she figured so prominently.

A huge, watershed moment for The Urbariginal occurred during the interview with Sandra. Her understanding of traditional ways and explanation of my dad’s responsibility to his tribe and their family was a crucial point.

When Sandra provided the explanation for his favorable treatment of them over us, it caused a seismic shift. My feelings about him changed and I realized the resentment that I had held towards her family was unfounded. She also gave me insight into his responsibilities as a leader and the pressures and abuses he faced, starting at a young age.

In learning more about his background and his early life, I got a fuller picture of him. And, while I cannot completely forgive him, particularly for how he treated my mom, I can at least understand where the anger came from. It was this greater understanding that nudged the podcast in the direction it went.

I recall that morning, as I headed to the village on the ferry to interview Sandra. I was uneasy.

Even though the Dudowards had never done me wrong, those bitter feelings, those memories of how my dad favored them, percolated within me. In the podcast, I speak of how I felt about them not as I do now, but how I felt as a child and a young man, in certain moments.

There were good times.

When we were out of the house and away from my dad’s shadow, I got along with them quite well. We occasionally socialized and had many a good laugh, as most cousins do.

I haven’t really seen much of my cousins since my dad’s death – mostly due to many of them living in the Lower Mainland or in the village. One of them, Patty, lives in town and I run into her occasionally. She also has a lot of knowledge and isn’t shy to share it.

We have all moved on … but not entirely. He was as big to them as he was to us and they still speak of him a lot.

I understand the relationship more now. And that makes it a little easier.

URBARIGI-NOTES: Do de Ryk thing

Most people who have listened to the Urbariginal podcast would think that I was the driving force behind it, that it was a project that was in my head for some time.

They would be wrong.

Sure, it was my story and the stories of indigenous people I knew. I conducted the interviews, did the voice work, and did a lot of the writing. But I had help – a lot of it.

Carolina de Ryk, whom many of you know as the host of CBC Daybreak North, was as much a part of it as I was.

It was Carolina who sent me a message one day, asking if we can meet at a nearby coffee shop to discuss a project involving interviewing indigenous people and gathering stories. I had a full-time job but I do love to listen to other people’s stories and I am a storyteller …

I had little radio experience beyond my short-lived CHTK morning show over two decades ago but Carolina pushed me into the deep end anyway, dispatching me to the All Native tournament armed only with a general idea of what I was doing and a frustrating jumble of equipment.

Those days and nights at the All Native turned into a jumble of interviews and I formed rough ideas of what the episodes might be focused on. Carolina, though, doesn’t like rough ideas and pushed hard for refinement.

We were like a pair of inventors and, once we had some themes and more focus, it made life much easier. We had topics and fascinating stories and people to put a human face on them. And we had a thread: me and my personal feelings on the topics and how the specter of my dad seemed to hang over all of them.

Without Carolina’s drive and suggestions for the project’s direction, it doesn’t get done – or wouldn’t be nearly as good. It’s quite remarkable that, even though I did so much of what you heard, Carolina was an equal contributor and the main architect of the structure.

To be honest, my first outline wasn’t very good. It was simple, going by big topics; the salmon vs development, religion’s impact, the All Native … I had the question of treaty as well originally, but it got axed ( wisely so). I was thinking more of a series of feature stories than what it turned into.

But then, the more I related to what was being said by the people I interviewed, the more I began to share my views and experiences. And that word, Urbariginal, which I used to describe myself in our first meeting, wouldn’t go away. It made us think about how the podcast could be for others like me, people that could relate.

We were on our way.

And I knew that we were there or, at least, very close when Carolina came to my desk one morning carrying … THE WHITEBOARD! Dun, dun, dun, dun!

The dreaded whiteboard (yes, yet another amusing irony), which she posted right beside my desk as a constant reminder that things needed to be done. We charted the episodes and made “to-do lists,” which I really needed considering my poor short-term memory and the many distractions in my personal life.

Carolina was enthusiastic and had a lot of ideas – so many that I had to frequently pump the brakes on her string of suggestions so that we both could be more focused. Yes, that’s right: sometimes, I was the sane one.

I can still hear her voice: “How about …” “Maybe we can …” “I was thinking …”

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention our producers/supervisors, Catherine Hansen and Jay Bertagnolli, as well as other producers and podcast creators in the CBC stable that chimed in and helped shape the podcast.

And our main sound guy, Geoff Walter, was amazing.

But Carolina was the driver. She got us there, even when there was a lot of traffic to get through - like a trusty chauffeur.

“Where would you like to go, Rudy?”

“Umm, how about looking back to the LNG issue and how I was torn on it?”

“Sure.”

“Uh, Carolina, it’s this way.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I know another road we can take.”

“Uh … “

There were many paths to choose from and, as with most creative projects, there will always be second thoughts on what was taken out and what was left in. I have written many plays and skits, short stories, a novel, as well as hundreds of news stories, and I never thought any of them was perfect.

What I do know is that The Urbariginal is very good. If it’s more than that, that’s for others to say. I’m just happy with the result and glad that I had a smart, bold partner with which to bring it to life.

Thanks, Carolina!

After the Urbariginal: a lost soul

I had intended to write more Urbarigi-Notes on Facebook by now but, in the past week or so, the inevitable comedown hit me. It was like one of those lead blankets that they use in X-ray rooms had been thrown over me.

After the euphoria of the podcast release, the numerous promotional appearances, and engaging with people who sent me messages and emails regarding The Urbariginal had washed away, I was left feeling kind of empty.

I was suddenly tired and lost. I spent several days just puttering about, even though I have at least two large, creative projects to tackle. I have a plan. It just hasn’t kicked into gear yet.

I guess it’s just, well, the Urbariginal hangover. The project took about 16 months of work. It was supposed to be just around half of that time!

The original project was always two-pronged: 1) gathering the voices of indigenous people and creating a central bank at which they can be accessed, and 2) creating a podcast from those voices by boiling it down to a theme.

But, then, I did something that will not surprise my friends: I opened my big mouth.

I started talking to my work partner, CBC morning host Carolina de Ryk, about how I knew some of the people I interviewed and what thoughts and feelings they were provoking, involving my dad and my childhood. Her eyes lit up and she smiled which, with her, is always a double-edged sword that meant inspiration and more work. With my dad being mentioned so often and me making my feelings about him known, she said that was the story.

I had a different idea at first: to take some of the key issues indigenous people face and put a local spin on them. They kept coming up: colonization and residential schools, healing as a people, the role of the church, salmon vs development projects, and being separated from your culture.

The significance of the All Native tournament was added to the list as was having a larger-than-life father, the latter of which became the thread that tied it all together.

With me now telling a deeply personal story, the emotional toll was considerable. An audio tape of my dad speaking was sent to me via Facebook Messenger and grabbed me by the throat. People told me stories about him and his stature in the indigenous community. Decades after his death, his favorite niece wept as if it was just yesterday when she spoke about him. And my brother Irwin took me on a moving trip down memory lane in Port Edward.

I was touched by other stories too, things I hadn’t known about long-time friends like Leonard and Mona Alexcee, Murray and Louisa Smith, and Treena Decker. My conception of some people changed.

There was also fear. I worried about how indigenous listeners would react, especially people who knew my father, and loved and respected him. Of course, my siblings’ reactions were top of mind. Had I said too much? Not enough? Did I have the right to say anything at all?

It is with great relief that I can report that the response from my family and those I interviewed has been almost entirely positive. The siblings who have heard it approved of it, saying they even learned from it. Ditto for most of the other participants – Louisa Smith gave me a big hug!

Just as rewarding are the many messages from people near and far, in the supermarket and on the street, some yelling at me from their vehicles, praising the podcast, and saying they learned from it.

It has been humbling and satisfying. So, rather than feeling lost and lazy, I suppose I should just allow myself a little more time to sit back and stare into space. Maybe go for long walks. Hit the weights hard. Let the past be just that, and move forward a little easier now that some baggage has been dropped.

As for the future, I have been working on a sequel to my novel, All Native, to finish BJ’s story. I also have a couple of movie screenplays in mind. And I wouldn’t rule out another podcast or radio feature story, should the opportunity arise.

In other words, I have more stories to tell, both real and imagined.

And I am grateful to those of you who have been following them.