On the Road Again (heading east (#10)

My driver was my third Native Canadian teacher of my trip home. He was going to Vermilion Bay, just a few hours down the road, to pick blueberries. Like the woman in BC who was off to air dry salmon by the river, this driver's family had been picking blueberries for personal use and for selling from this locations for generations. In my travels I seem to frequently get the driver I need. This ride was exactly what I needed. Not just because he was going in the right direction but he was the perfect person to vent to.

I was not in a good mood. It had been a long day and some of the people that I had interacted with had not been nice to me. The OPP officer and the people who played silly games with me had frustrated me and had reduced in some way my usually boundless faith in human nature.

So as soon as I got into the vehicle I started to talk about my day. I don't usually dump on my drivers - or at least not first thing. But I did this time. My driver was gentle and understanding. As I talked through the day, my tension reduced and I started to relax. We stopped briefly  in Kenora for a coffee for my driver and a juice for me., we got directions.

While I suspect that this driver and the elder who picked me up just outside of Whistler were about the same age, they had quite completely different attitudes about the "plight" of First Nations communities and individuals. My present driver unlike my driver in BC who stated quite clearly that his community had to accept some responsibility for the current state of affairs, was far more angry and not inclined to accept anything I said as being true. I wondered later if there is a difference in the First Nation experience in Northern Ontario as opposed to B.C. Perhaps the racism and the discrimination was less or at least different out west. I think it has been a consistent experience that I have gotten along better with individuals of First Nation ancestry in the western part of the country than I have with those from central Canada.  There was no time where thought my ride was in jeopardy, but there were times when he was quite forceful in making his point.

He was an interesting man, he had a not-so-gentle humour about him as he teased me and pushed me to answer his questions about what I believed and how I lived my life. I didn't mind. It was good for me. Interestingly he was the second driver who questioned my daughter's need to know where I was occasionally.

As we approached Vermilion Bay he asked me where I wanted to get out. He was planning on heading down some side road and I was a bit uncomfortable being in Northern Ontario, well past 10:00 PM heading down a side road. I was quite frankly, not too sure where I was. And then, out of the darkness, in what felt like the middle of nowhere, on our left, there was a motel, and it was still open. I asked him to stop, we shook hands, I thanked him for bringing me back to some sense of being balanced and got out of the car. He smiled and said something to the fact that we always get what we need. I dashed across the highway and got a room. It was a great place. The person who took my money was friendly, the shower worked great and the bed was comfortable. It had been a long few days since Whistler where I had slept in a bed and had a shower. I was happy again.