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.
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