Qinghuan, carrying a large bag and a small bag, had previously bought indigenous-caught salmon here. This time, she hoped to return with a full load, but unfortunately, she was disappointed to find that the salmon run season had already passed. The old woman, seeing Qinghuan's disappointment, kindly directed us to the community activity center, where perhaps we could learn about the next salmon run.
Crossing the overpass, we walked to the community service center, where several indigenous women were focused on making unique fabric crafts with sewing machines. The long table was filled with their completed fabric products. I picked up a leftover strip of fabric, tied it around my waist as a three-foot red silk, and began to dance the Yangge under the salmon totem. This exaggerated Northeast Yangge made Qinghuan laugh heartily, and she took out her phone to capture my lively "dance." Perhaps the amusing movements attracted a few women to watch.
After a brief moment of excitement, I was drawn to a blue-purple oil painting of a mountain eagle, holding my breath in admiration. The most famous Indian bamboo flute piece, "Song of the Mountain Eagle," echoed in my ears—calm, soothing, ethereal, and melancholic melodies that matched the colors of the painting.
The strength and fragility of the mountain eagle, the tranquility and mystery of the valley, blue and purple, mourn together for the heavy emotions and past of the indigenous residents of this land. As someone from a nomadic region, I deeply understand the symbolic significance of the mountain eagle to nomadic peoples. Our gazes met, and an inexplicable yet sacred magic enveloped me, immersing me in the painting, feeling as if I had transformed into the mountain eagle, soaring through the clouds, traversing time, bearing the sweetness, pain, sadness, and joy of life, sublimating in the years, thanking the heavens for everything, forgetting grievances, living in the moment, light and free—this is precisely the life of a nomad and the song of the mountain eagle, isn't it?!
The strength and fragility of the mountain eagle, the tranquility and mystery of the valley, blue and purple, mourn together for the heavy emotions and past of the indigenous people of this land. As someone from a nomadic region, I deeply understand the symbolic significance of the mountain eagle to the nomadic people. When my gaze meets that of the mountain eagle, an inexplicable and sacred magic envelops me, immersing me deeply in the painting, making me feel as if I have transformed into the mountain eagle, soaring through the clouds, traversing time, bearing the sweetness, pain, sadness, and joy of life, sublimating in the years, thanking the heavens for countless blessings, forgetting grievances, living in the moment, light and carefree, free and unrestrained. Isn't this the life of a nomad and the song of the mountain eagle?!
After leaving the community center, we went to the Indigenous Language Center. Since the next day was Halloween, several young Indigenous women were decorating the entrance of the center. Their appearances seemed to show some mixed heritage, but they still retained the unique round apple-shaped figures of Indigenous people.
A middle-aged woman with a high nose greeted us at the language center. She introduced us to the main tasks and service targets of the center in detail, then pointed to the wall where Indigenous language flashcards were hung, teaching me how to say Halloween decorations in the Indigenous language: pumpkin lantern, bat, skeleton.
I learned quite well, trying my best to imitate her. She smiled, and I couldn't tell if she was laughing at my inaccurate pronunciation or if she was satisfied with my clear enunciation. But that didn't matter; what mattered was that, as a seasoned "poop scooper," I was very concerned about the issues of dogs in Indigenous tribes. So, I asked her: "How do you say 'dog'? Do you still raise Huskies?"
She was taken aback for half a second, feeling a bit awkward, probably wondering why there were dogs on Halloween. In a night of a hundred ghosts, could a Husky be a ghost dog?
Perhaps my question was beyond her scope of responsibility, so I didn't press further.
She continued with the reception process, introducing us to the late chief of the tribe. Finally, she pointed to an office with an open door and said: "The current chief is working in there. You see, he is in a conference call right now, so it's not convenient for him to meet you. If you want to know more about the current chief, you can leave your email, and he will write to you."
As we all know, after the colonizers invaded the Americas, they carried out a large-scale genocide against the Indigenous people, with thousands of Indigenous people brutally slaughtered. Canada also has the infamous and appalling Indian residential schools. These schools forcibly deprived Indigenous children of their culture, subjected them to abuse, causing psychological trauma and deep suffering that affected their entire lives. To address this, Canada established Orange Shirt Day, a day when people wear orange shirts to express respect and support for the victims, calling on the government to clarify the truth, resolve historical issues, and achieve genuine reconciliation with Indigenous people.
Indigenous peoples in Canada refer to the Indigenous nations recognized in Sections 25 and 35 of the Constitution Act of 1982, which are First Nations, Inuit, and Métis. The Indigenous population in Canada accounts for about 3.8% of the total population, with First Nations having a population of 698,000, Inuit in the Arctic Circle numbering 50,000, and Métis numbering 389,000. There are 26 different Indian reserves and 23 villages across Canada, covering a total area of 6,732 square kilometers.
In 1999, I met the Métis people of Canada for the first time. That year, a friend of mine, a girl from Xi'an, was dating a Métis man while studying in Canada. The first time I saw the legendary Canadian Indigenous person, he looked to me like a Mongolian, but with a different expression; my girlfriend's boyfriend had a gentle, sheep-like softness in his eyes, lacking any of the strong aura typical of Mongolians. After they got married in Beijing, the couple quickly flew back to Canada, and I don't quite remember which city they settled in.
Time flows like water, and over twenty years have passed. Now I also live in this beautiful country, and I really want to know how my girlfriend's life has been since she married into the tribe. However, time has changed, and it's hard to find clues. I truly hope that today, a wonderful fate can occur, and I can have a chance encounter with her here; what a marvelous and magical reunion that would be!
I slowly walked out of the language center, looking around, trying to find a familiar figure, but unfortunately, I did not encounter an old friend.
Not far from the language center, there is a railway surrounded by bushes and trees, where only one train car can be seen resting on the tracks. Mr. Shen, intrigued, went to take a closer look, and we followed closely behind. In the evening sun, on the forest path, backlit, I joyfully danced on the tracks, while Qinghuan took out her phone to help me take pictures, capturing this happy moment!
In the afterglow of the sunset, we reluctantly bid farewell to the Indigenous reserve, a lingering regret spreading in each of our hearts. Jianms started the car, and the tribe quickly faded away. At this moment, I couldn't help but recall the poem by Gong Zizhen: "The heart is ethereal at the end of the journey, all matters turn from flaws to good. Chanting the sunset beyond the mountains, who in ancient and modern times is free from lingering feelings?"
Goodbye, Indigenous reserve under the Lions Gate Bridge! Next time, I will bring Miso back to see you again!