As you may recall, I participated in an archealogical dig of a pre-Deportation Acadian village just a few weeks ago.
I have pledged the rest of my life to a man who wasn't even born in Canada, he is from Portugal and chose to become a Canadian citizen in his thirties. My brother married a lovely girl from Japan, who chose to call Canada her home. Both Husbandly One and my sister Ai are exceptionally proud of their new country, and I am willing to bet that they know more about Canadian history than most native-borns do.
So is it so strange that, given the context of my family, and where I live, that I, as an English person, have come to identify with our French community, that I feel like an honourary Acadian?
Two weeks ago, I participated in an archealogical dig of an Acadian village. This is actually the fourth year that the dig was open to the public, and it has been well received by the people who actually KNEW about it, but it seemed like the general population had no idea what important work was being done.
A week after I participated in the dig, it made the front page of the newspaper. Glowing coverage, talking about how important the site is, how much we as Canadians will learn about our history by excavating this site.
The very next day, the site was desecrated.
Some LOSERS with metal detectors, under the cover of darkness, went out to the site and dug out anything they could find. What they hoped to find I will never know; it's not like the Acadian PEASANTS had a lot of gold and silver laying around.
But these unknown ASSHOLES showed up and destroyed the the site, by digging arbitrarily wherever their metal detectors told them to dig. They plowed through clearly identified layers of soil, layers that helped the archeaologists date items. They destroyed the chronological stories that the site had yet to reveal, just because they hoped to unearth some financially valuable treasure.
When the story broke, my friend Yvette tore in to my office. And stood inside my door with tears running down her face. She actually is Acadian, and so she personally mourned this loss of an opportunity to understand how her ancestors lived. Her tears cut me like a knife.
I am English. Specifically, I am Scottish. But oh, in the hour of her pain, I WAS Acadian. And I am Acadian now. How fucking DARE you touch "my" history.
How dare you.
O sol de l'Acadie
Protege vos enfants
Qui sont ici debout
Qui le seront toujours
Vive notre Acadie!
And this has nothing to do with anything, but it still makes me feel better. kd lang singing Leonard Cohen's "Halleluah".