A deal is a deal

Workers were busy setting up for a children’s festival at “The Forks” near downtown Winnipeg this morning. A few kids were on the scene; one busload of single-digiters paraded into the Children’s Museum.

The Forks is actually a single fork – the Red and Assiniboine Rivers meet here, making the Manitoba capital city a vital geographic location.

A huge suspension bridge loomed in the distance and I set course for a vantage point from which I might take photos.

While in pursuit of that goal, I spotted a crowd. Drawing closer, I saw they were in a line, snaking along for 75 yards or so and disappearing around a corner.

My first impression was that these were prospective workers lined up to apply for jobs related to the festival. My characteristically weak observation skills failed to alert me to the fact that nearly all of those queued up were Native Canadians.

I asked a bystander what was going on.

“They’re here for their five dollars,” he replied.

I pressed for details and learned that a 125-plus-year-old treaty provided tribe members with a five dollar “annuity” in addition to other items. Most of the goodies, including land, tools, animals and other things useful for farming, were provided just once; but the five bucks had no expiration date.

As a light drizzle began to fall, I wondered why these folks bothered to stand in line for a couple of hours, or more, for a measly half-sawbuck. I spoke to several people, but really didn’t get a satisfying answer.

Replies ranged from, “I have nothing better to do.” to “It’s a way to get together with friends.”

It occurs to me that the real value of hundreds or thousands of descendents showing up every year for hat was promised is notice that “a deal is a deal.” After all, their ancestors gave up huge tracts of land – basically most of what lies between the Great Lakes and the Rocky Mountains – in return for what many might say was a pittance. Benefits continue to accrue to those who gained ownership; why should they not continue to flow in the other direction?

My grandmother worked part-time for the YWCA in Canton, Ohio. By the time she left, she had qualified for a small pension. The association offered a multiple of the monthly allowance to buy out the pension; but Grandma refused. She happily collected that pension for twenty or thirty years. A deal is a deal.

It’s hard for an American to express criticism toward the British and Canadians for their treatment of the “aboriginals;” after all, our record is far worse – including a period when many Americans accepted the slogan: “The only good Indian is a dead Indian.”

Contrasts between the histories of Canada and the U.S. are striking. Our great civil war, the conquest of Mexico in pursuit of land in the southwest and adventures near the beginning of the 20th century that appear to be pretty imperialistic in retrospect.

Despite the weather and the long line, those waiting for their annual payment seemed to be in good spirits. There was plenty of conversation, including frequent laughter. A number of children were present.

I’m deciding that this celebration of the past, present and future is a good thing for everyone – including visitors from other lands who may gain insight from seeing promises kept in a context that hasn’t always been consistent in that regard.

Good for those who braved the elements and gave up half a day to make that point. May they and their children’s children continue to appear each year for as long as the grass grows and the nearby Red River flows.