Journal

Sat, Sep 7

The next few days were spent with Marilyne in Montreal. Not nearly enough time, but I’m grateful for every minute we had together.

We went for a walk, and I couldn’t help but notice how the garden cosmos are really blooming in the city! The vibrant colors really caught my eye.

We passed by Saint Brendan’s Catholic Church of Montreal, and its architecture stood out to me. It’s got an interesting shape for sure, but the stucco walls? Definitely a… choice.

During our walk, I found a beautiful leaf and gave it to a beautiful lady. It perfectly matched her outfit.

Brunch at L’Oeufrier with Marilyne was wonderful, as always. Good food, even better company.

One thing that struck me was the church we passed. Outside of it stood a tall tower with a cellphone transmitter sitting right on top. It’s kind of ironic, don’t you think? A building meant to honor someone, and then there’s this huge transmitter towering above the statue of whoever they’re honoring. It almost makes it look like the building is dedicated to the transmitter itself!

I’ve seen transmitters disguised better than this—sometimes even as statues themselves! I think more thought needs to go into how we integrate infrastructure into the environment, especially around places of significance like this.

Later in the day, we went to Starcité Montreal to see Alien: Romulus. Terrifying—but really good. Honestly, the Alien movies seem to get better with each installment.

I do have one critique though. They introduced an android character named Andy, and it felt like they were starting to lean into the “Magical Negro” trope—like in The Legend of Bagger Vance. The trope usually involves a Black character whose sole purpose is to move the plot forward for the main (white) characters, without any real depth of their own.

But then they flipped it, giving Andy a much more nuanced and developed personality, which made him the best character in the film, in my opinion. So maybe it was a bait-and-switch, like a subversion of the trope? Either way, it did leave me wondering.

Either way, David Jonsson’s performance was excellent. He stole the show.

Sun, Sep 8

Norma Einish made matching ᒥᔅᒋᓇ (moccasins) for me and Marilyne. They fit perfectly, and I love that we have a little piece of my home to share between us.

But now, she’s off to France, and I’m heading south on my own. It’s always hard to part ways, even for a little while.

As I continue my journey, I’m taking in the peace of the road.

Tonight, I’m catching the stars outside my friend Jeff’s house.

There’s something so comforting about seeing the night sky in a quiet place, reminding me how vast the universe is.

https://www.tiktok.com/@benjancewicz/video/7413598817049709855

Thu, Sep 5

This morning, I cleaned up the rectory in preparation for leaving and stopped by the Naskapi Development Corporation and the Naskapi Nation band office to see if anyone needed anything. I wanted to know if there would be another time they’d need me, possibly in late October.

Jimmy Shecanapish, ever so kind, offered to drive me to the airport, as he usually does. But today, God’s timing was different from mine.

When we got to the airport, it was packed. The crowd was overwhelming, with so many people heading home after the Elders Gathering. That’s when I learned about Air Inuit’s new check-in policy, which was stricter than I had anticipated.

Because there were so many standby flights, seats were in high demand. I missed the check-in window by just three minutes.

Disappointed, I called my girlfriend to let her know the situation. Trisha, in the Band Office, worked her magic and got me on a flight for the next day.

I was disappointed, but I decided not to get too upset and just rolled with it.

While scrolling through Facebook, I saw a post from Matthew Mameamskum’s family. Something about it instantly gave me a sinking feeling. Matthew had always been close to my family—he worked with my dad, Bill, checking translations for the church and the community. His wife, Kitty, always ensured I was fed when she provided lunches for Innu kids at Jimmy Sandy Memorial School.

I jumped on the side-by-side and rode over to his house, where the driveway was already filling up with trucks. Community members were beginning to gather. Inside, I sat with Ishko Mameamskum and his brothers, paying my respects.

Rod Mackenzy was there, helping coordinate, and passed our masks to everyone since a few family members were sick.

Matthew had just passed away.

As I was there, I remembered that today was also George Amos Guanish’s funeral, so I quickly went to his house as the hearse was arriving.

John Chescappio was, as usual, helping in every way possible, even removing the door frame so that the pallbearers could carry the casket out smoothly.

The house was packed. The family had laid cardboard on the floor to accommodate the steady stream of visitors who came through the back door, paid their respects, and exited through the front.

Outside, I spoke with Uapush, who had been very close to George. He wanted to do something to show his respect, so I agreed to help him get his guitar so he could sing at the funeral.

The pallbearers gently lowered George’s casket out of the house and into the hearse.

A whiskychak watched over us curiously.

The family started walking in a procession to the church, and Uapush and I sped around the back to his house to go get his guitar.

The procession to the church was somber, and the church was completely filled.

Susan Nabinacaboo’s voice filled the space with Family Circle, and the air was thick with emotion.

When the time came, Uapush played a song that brought tears to the family.

After the service, the pallbearers brought the casket down the church steps and placed it back in the hearse.

As is tradition, a parade of cars formed and circled the village, passing George Amos’ home on the way to the cemetery.

Out of respect, traffic in the opposite direction stopped to let us pass.

At the cemetery, a light rain began to fall. It softened the heavy hearts of those grieving, mingling with tears.

We offered prayers and shared comfort in hushed tones.

After the ceremony, we returned to Kawawachikamach, where the family had prepared a feast. People shared smiles through their tears, remembering the good times they had with George Amos.

Later that day, I returned to Matthew’s house to check on his family. I spoke with his daughter Louise for a while. Though it was difficult, she found peace knowing that Matthew was now reunited with Kitty.

As the evening wore on, I spent some time alone on the hill overlooking the village where I grew up.

I’m so grateful that I missed my flight. It allowed me to be here for the people who matter most to me.

Fri, Sep 6

Woke up, showered, and took some time to clean up a little more. Everything’s packed, and I’m ready to go.

After loading up, I made my way to drop off the rectory keys at the Naskapi Development Corporation and returned the side-by-side to the Naskapi Nation garage. That side-by-side has been a godsend for getting around!

Jimmy Shecanapish, always looking out for me, picked me up today—in a giant sedan SUV limousine, no less! Quite the departure from my usual rides.

At the airport, I had some time before boarding. I always love looking at the canoe on the wall here. Every community has its own style of canoe design, and it reminds me of how deeply unique each nation is.

Then came the moment I dreaded—getting ready to board. No matter how many times I do it, I hate leaving. This place always feels like home, and it’s never easy to say goodbye.

Once boarded, I was surrounded by many Attikamekw people heading home after the Elders Gathering.

I love being among the clouds; something about flying always brings me peace.

We made a quick stop in Quebec City. Good friends make life sweeter—especially when they bring you poutine on the plane.

And finally, we landed in Montreal.

Man saw the beauty of lakes, rivers, forests, and mountains… and somehow invented traffic.

But the best part? Dinner with her. ❤️

Author’s Note:

It’s been tough to catch up while being down south! I’ve had difficulty catching up with all my work for the DOT, and when I get home, I’ve been exhausted. What little time I have had, I’ve been spending getting the Naskapi Election covered (you can see the latest posts here) and publishing more videos from the Elder’s Gathering (which you can find here).

It’s been challenging to know what to work on first: the videos that illustrate the story I’m telling below or the story itself through pictures. The story through pictures wins because working on the videos takes so much time.

Of course, this means that my day-to-day life has been a lot more boring, which will make it easier to catch up on.

I also got sick this week, which hasn’t helped. But I’ve been resting most of the weekend, so hopefully, it will pass soon.

But let’s get back to it:

Tue, Sep 3

It was very chilly this morning, but the camp dogs seemed perfectly content guarding the tents. They’ve constantly been around the site, always watchful and calm.

The day started with another morning mass. What I find fascinating is the unique distribution of men and women leading worship in each nation. No two are alike. In some nations, the men lead, while in others, the women do. Sometimes, it’s men who sing, and sometimes, it’s women. What stands out most is that everyone is welcome to participate.

After mass, we had sessions discussing the importance of caribou and drumming in the culture. Both are vital, not just as traditions but as elements of identity for the people gathered here. I recorded these sessions and plan to upload the videos soon.

The afternoon schedule was more relaxed, especially with the cold rain setting in. I lit a fire in my stove and let the rain sizzling against the stovepipe lull me into a 30-minute nap. It was lovely.

Once I was awake, I took a walk around the camps. As I passed through Natuashish and Kawawachikamach, I noticed that both had very low firewood reserves. With a friend from Natuashish, we loaded up the side-by-side with firewood and distributed it to the needy tents.

Above us, an eagle fought against the wind.

After dinner, the camp hosted a talent show! The performances ranged from wild and silly to fast and musical, but all of them were entertaining. I captured several acts on video, which I’ll share later.

Then, we gathered as many elders as we could into a giant circle and played Pass The Stick. It’s like musical chairs, but adapted so that people with mobility issues can participate. I spun around in the middle, trying to record everything, and got dizzy!

As with every night, the big tent turned into a dance hall, and the floor filled with dancers. It was such a joy to watch everyone come alive with the music and laughter.

There were no northern lights tonight—too cloudy—but everyone hurried off to bed to be well-rested for tomorrow’s big closing ceremonies.

It’s a strange contrast to be out here, completely disconnected from the grid, at least 325 miles from the nearest bank, and still receive notifications that my credit score has gone up.

Wed, Sep 4

The Naskapi kitchen chefs made an enormous breakfast for everyone today, preparing for the final closing of the Elders’ gathering. I enjoyed my meal outside with a few elders, sharing stories and listening to their thoughts on the event.

The Whiskychak made its return, feasting on the pizza crust I’d left behind the night before.

At one point, it knocked down a Pepsi can someone had stuck to a tent pole. A nearby kid asked why it did that. I told him, “The tent poles are for Whiskychaks, not for our garbage.”

I started packing up my belongings into the side-by-side and cleaned out my tent.

I’m really going to miss that cozy little space. But it’ll see more use, as I passed it along to one of the workers staying behind to help clean up.

I made a quick trip to Kawawachikamach for a shower and laundry, and when I got back, the camp was almost unrecognizable. Natuashish was nearly packed up, and tents were being dismantled left and right.

At the big tent, the gift exchange had already begun. A gift bag was tossed into my hands, and I joined the line. We stood back-to-back with random partners, and on the count of three, we turned around and exchanged our gifts. The variety was amazing—everything from beautiful homemade crafts to store-bought items from down south.

Next, we watched some documentaries about the Attikamekw. The man sitting in front of the TV had been a small boy in the boat featured in the film!

It was fascinating to see how many traditions the Attikamekw share with the Naskapi.

Later, I interviewed Johnny Saganash in one of the quieter tents. We talked about the Walking Out ceremony so I could share his perspective in a future slideshow.

Rod Mckenzie, our MC, gave a deep and emotional goodbye speech in all four languages. Something he said struck a chord with me. This gathering helps you not fear getting old; it helps you anticipate it. 

Cheyenne Peshu and Naomi Einish gave long speeches, thanking the workers for their efforts throughout the gathering. Cheyenne made me stand up and called me a “son of Kawawachikamach,” thanking me for all my work. I don’t know if anyone could tell, but I felt my face turning bright red with both pride and shyness.

This place will always be home to me, no matter where I go. These will always be my people.

The chiefs from the various communities gave speeches and exchanged gifts as tokens of appreciation. Beautifully carved crafts were given to Kawawachikamach in gratitude for hosting the event.

A giant, beautifully decorated cake was cut up and shared with everyone. It’s always a special moment seeing things I’ve designed, even in cake form.

As a final parting gift, the king and queen of the gathering, Johnny and Louisa Saganash, were given matching hoodies.

Then, I was presented with my own hoodie! At the very beginning of the gathering, the entire coordinating team had all gotten forest green hoodies with their names blazoned on the back. But I had been missed. It was cream-colored, a color reserved for dignitaries and chiefs. It felt like such an honor.

Mashteuiatsh, a village in southwest Quebec, was selected as the next host for the Elders Gathering.

The evening turned into a massive celebration, with the biggest crowd we’d had on the dance floor. Everyone was done being shy and just wanted to move.

And then the fireworks! An enormous display lit up the sky. I managed to fly my drone during the show—I’m hoping the footage turns out well.

Looking back, I’m so proud to have been part of this event. I’m grateful to have worked with such an amazing crew. We faced obstacles, filled gaps where needed, and cared for each other along the way.

This gathering was truly incredible.

Sun, Sep 1

This morning, I was greeted by an unusual sight. Many Naskapi people were crowded into Kitty Peastitute’s cabin, having a church service, while the big tent sat mostly empty. Some kind of disagreement had happened, and instead of a unified service, there were two separate ones.

Since the services were held an hour apart, many Naskapi people simply attended both. It was an interesting way to handle the split, and it worked.

The Innu service had some beautiful singing, and at one point, I saw a husband comforting his wife as she began to cry from the emotion of the music.

After attending both services, I went out into the woods for my own church. I thought about forest fires and rebirth, how even the rockiest, stoniest terrain can eventually transform into a beautiful paradise with care and love. It was a quiet, thoughtful moment in the midst of all the activity.

There are so many people working behind the scenes at the Elders Gathering—cooking food for the workers, hauling trash, emptying toilets, sweeping floors, and delivering water. Some of them feel embarrassed about their roles, thinking they are less desirable, but in reality, they are the true heroes of this gathering. Their efforts keep everything running smoothly, and their contributions are invaluable.

The wind really picked up today, and it wasn’t long before one of the first tents set up on the site was lifted into the air and smashed onto another tent. I helped untangle it, and the owners took it in stride, joking, “That’s why the elders tell us to put the door facing east!” (Away from the prevailing winds).

I visited another kitchen tent today, a low-built one belonging to the Innu Takuaikan Uashat mak Mani-utenam. It was a beautiful structure, filled with elders playing bingo, joking around, and sipping on tea and coffee.

Even though storms were on the horizon, the kids didn’t let it dampen their fun. From different villages, they set up a volleyball circle between the Natuashish and Naskapi Nation sections of the camp.

I love seeing the different nations come together and interact, and it’s fascinating how each community builds their tents slightly differently. The Natuashish people put crosses on their tents, like Naskapi homes, and many Sheshatshiu people have stove pipes coming out the front of their tents rather than the top.

The heavy rains eventually came, drenching the campsite, but the kids just took shelter in the kitchen tents. Thanks to the amazing work of the Naskapi crews laying solid foundations, there was no flooding, and surprisingly little mud.

I spent the rest of the evening filming the music in the bif tent. After the music died down, I went back to my tent and tried to start a fire with some rather wet firewood (my own fault for not drying it out properly). The wind whipped around, and the rain beat on the roof, but I was safe, warm, and dry in my tent. And at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

Mon, Sep 2

The sun finally broke through the clouds this morning, chasing away the storm and rain from the past few days. It was wonderful to sleep through the sound of rain, though I know I’m still not getting enough rest.

A big pot of ᐃᐦᑕ was boiling in the kitchen. I drank some, just in case. Many people at the camp have been coughing, and while I haven’t caught anything yet, I’m hoping it stays that way.

I’ve never been to a daily morning mass before, but I’m finding it quiet and meditative.

Next, we had a session on caribou. Caribou are not doing well on the Quebec and Labrador Peninsula, so the discussion focused on strategies to help them thrive again. The challenges they face are real, and it’s clear that their survival is deeply tied to the land and traditions of the people here.

After lunch, I went back to Kawawachikamach for a much-needed shower. It’s incredible how a simple shower can revive me and make me feel human again.

I then headed to Knob Lake Beach, where several dozen people were already cheering and honking their horns as paddlers came ashore.

These paddlers had been out on the water since August 15, paddling over 300 kilometers in 19 days!

The group, made up of Naskapi and Innu people, kept the tradition of using canoes alive—a mode of transportation that their ancestors once relied on.

Despite the perils they faced—wildlife, accidents, and rough waters—the smiles on their faces as they were greeted with warm hugs and hot coffee said everything. It was such a joyful and proud moment for all the communities involved.

On my way back to camp, a sudden rainstorm blew through, followed by a gigantic rainbow. It felt like a reminder that I needed a break.

So, I stopped at the beach.

I’ve been working non-stop since I arrived—up with the sun, staying up late into the night, fighting with the internet to upload stories, photos, and videos. But the beach is one of my favorite places in this whole area, and it helped me relax

It’s a hidden cove, covered in beautiful, rounded flat stones perfect for skipping. The stones come in half a dozen different colors, and I loved picking them up as a kid. I picked out a few that I thought my own kids would like.

Autumn is already showing itself here, with the bushes turning fiery shades of red and orange.

I found some small white flowers that look a bit like carnations, though I’m not sure what they are. The wind was still strong from the passing storms, and the waves were calming to listen to.

I wandered the woods near the beach, taking in the beauty of the forest, which felt magical and full of life. The beach itself is unique, with its colorful stones shaped by the ice in winter and the waves in summer. I soaked it in.

Back at camp, some new dogs had joined us, happily gnawing on caribou bones we’d tossed to them after cooking the meat.

The Quebec Minister of Indian Affairs, Ian Lafrenière, paid a visit to the camp and had dinner with Chief Theresa Chemaganish. He seemed genuinely surprised to learn that I spoke Naskapi. It was nice to see this level of engagement from him.

As the sun set and the storms cleared, the camp was bathed in golden light.

We took time to honor the canoeists, showering them with gifts, hugs, and congratulations.

Everyone is feeling the wear of this long event—even our king, Johnny Saganash, took short naps between acts!

Later, I took a walk around the camp. It was sad to see that some tents were already being taken down, signaling the end of the gathering for some. But it was heartwarming to see how carefully each nation was dismantling their camps, piling stones, branches, and picking up every piece of trash. It was a kind and respectful way to leave the land.

The music tonight was incredible—traditional drummers and three different bands filled the air with sound. My longtime friend Willie Nab played, and I hope to upload videos of the sets later.

Somewhere along the way, I had misplaced my monopod, but someone found it and placed it on my tent. I was so relieved!

As the music wound down, some kids turned part of the dirt floor in the big tent into an indoor sandbox, having a blast while the adults relaxed.

The northern lights were faint tonight, but the stars were incredibly bright. It’s been a cold day, but a good one. I’m grateful to be here.

Although my tent doesn’t have spruce boughs, I put some in a pan and set them to boil on my woodstove. The smell is wonderful, and it’s keeping me warm tonight. It’s going to be cold, down to 4°C, but for now, I’m toasty and content.

Sat, Aug 31

The next morning began with another nation holding mass at the big tent. I love how each nation does things differently, but everyone has appreciated and attended each other’s services.

Right after mass, they held a tobacco pipe ceremony, and many of the elders participated. Sage was burning, and some elders began preparing for the Walking Out ceremony.

A Walking Out ceremony is a little like a baptism, but it’s typically done for young children.

As preparations were being made, a large golden eagle flew in wide, westward circles overhead. One of the elders commented that the camp might have disturbed her hunting grounds but hoped she wouldn’t mind too much.

Johnny and Louisa B. Saganash offered to lead the Walking Out ceremony.

Aunts, uncles, parents, and grandparents all play important roles in the ceremony, as it’s designed to connect the youngest generation with traditional ways.

One of the children, Cohen, was particularly curious about my camera. He was eager to be part of everything, and his energy was infectious.

Each aspect of traditional Naskapi life is symbolized in the ceremony. For the boys, a small stuffed caribou represents their first hunt, and for the girls, a branch from a pine tree symbolizes their first tent. Pine boughs are used to line the floors of tents, giving off a fragrant and soft scent. One of the grandfathers helped a young boy fire a blank from a rifle, symbolizing the boy’s first hunt, and this helps ease the pressure for future hunts as they grow older.

The most important part of the Walking Out ceremony is when the child takes their first step off the carpet of boughs. This step symbolizes their journey out into the world, but importantly, they are never alone—family is always there to support them.

It’s an adorable and joyous event. Elders take pride in dressing their grandchildren in the traditional clothing they wore as children, and the entire family embraces the child with love and pride.

After the ceremony, I headed back to Kawawachikamach to shower, do some laundry, and meet with Rui Silveira, Elayna Einish, and the rest of the Wapikoni team. They’re here to help the Naskapi Nation and Tepatshimuna Matimekush Lac-john Natives record and produce music and videos for free.

When I returned to the Elders’ Gathering, I ran into David and Susan Swappie riding in Seasi’s truck. Susan, as is her habit, grabbed my hand and wouldn’t let go, repeatedly saying, “ᔄᔾᒥᑎᓐ, ᔄᔾᒥᑎᓐ, ᔄᔾᒥᑎᓐ… (I love you, I love you, I love you)” in Naskapi.

They hadn’t eaten yet, but Seasi told me she had some submarine sandwiches. After I laughed at her for feeding them “white people food”, I ran and got them plates of fish, wapachi, and fresh bannock.

We sat together for a while, talking, while David watched the crowds, calling over family and friends to chat with them. It was good to see them out and enjoying the gathering.

Later that evening, the Elders Gathering beauty contest took place, where couples from each community competed in a hilarious dance-off. It was lighthearted fun, and everyone had a great time laughing and cheering.

I ended the night practicing recording the northern lights as timelapse.

Thu, Aug 29

I’ve found that my days go better if I start by the water. There’s something so peaceful and grounding about being near the lake, especially here, where the air is likely the cleanest I’ll ever breathe. I make it a point to take deep breaths and soak it all in—this air feels like a gift.

Everywhere I look, the land is full of patterns that remind me of the designs Naskapi people paint on their coats and sew into their beadwork. It’s like nature itself reflecting back on the culture.

Different communities have been holding mass daily, which is a beautiful thing to witness. You get to see how different Nations approach spirituality, each unique yet united in spirit.

Back at the Naskapi Kitchen, Noah Swappie was busy setting up a tent for his mother. Because some of the workers have been grieving, we’ve been a bit short-staffed, but Noah is a pro—he had the tent up in no time.

This morning, I had the pleasure of sharing breakfast with Johnny and Louisa B. Saganash. I’ve been learning so much from them about Cree communities, and our conversations have been deeply enriching.

That afternoon, we gathered for a memorial to honor the memory of elder Alexandre “Napess” McKenzie, who tragically went through the ice this spring. A group of us gathered Derek Jeremy’s cabin, and from there, we took boats to the site of the accident.

Wapen invited me and Anaïs, a photographer from Innu Takuaikan Uashat mak Mani-utenam, to join him in the first boat. The waters of Kachikayach (Iron Arm Lake) were particularly shallow this year due to the lack of rain. Shundy had put out floats near Second Water to help avoid the larger rocks.

Despite the low water levels, we made good time, and along the way, we spotted a magnificent Golden Eagle perched on one of the outcrops.

As the sun began to dip low, I snapped a photo of Wapen navigating the rocks. Always one for dark humor, he had joked earlier that he couldn’t swim because “there’s no money in it.” I told him I’d use the photo on his memorial card when he drowns. We laughed, trying to remain lighthearted on such a serious mission.

The memorial took place on a beautiful spit of land that juts into the lake, making the area particularly shallow. This is where Alexandre’s snowmobile had gone through the ice earlier this year. Wapen took a private moment for himself—he was the first one on the scene that tragic day.

The men quickly mounted a cross on the stump of a tree that had been felled, and the brush had been cleared so we could gather.

Father Raibe Alfred led us in prayer, delivering a message in Innu. His dedication to learning the language over his eight years in Uashat is nothing short of impressive.

The land here, though rocky, is covered in centuries-old caribou moss that’s so thick it feels like a giant sponge. Many of us sat on the ground, and it felt as soft as a pillow beneath us—a perfect place for both prayer and quiet reflection.

The memorial was both healing and heartbreaking. Although the event was centered around Alexandre’s family, many others came to offer their respects. Alexandre was an elder who touched many lives, and it was clear how deeply he would be missed.

People placed small tokens on Alexandre’s cross—a handmade mitten, a rosary fluttering in the wind.

Wapen went over to offer his condolences to Alexandre’s wife, Charlotte, who had requested that we all gather stones from the beach. These stones served as a parting gift from us to Alexandre and also helped keep the cross steady in the strong winds.

The tall ᐛᒋᓇᑭᓐ tree next to the site seemed to sing in the wind as we gathered for a moment of silence.

Charlotte and her daughters, Line and Alexandra, reached out to connect with him one last time.

As people withdrew, I held back, taking in the scene and imagining how time would change this sacred spot. The north both weathers and preserves, but as long as his family remembers, Alexandre’s memory will endure.

Aaron Einish stayed behind with me as the others retreated. He had brought a set of shears to help clear the area and make the space more comfortable for the family. Before we left, Aaron reminded Charlotte, “You’re never alone. We will help you, always.”

As the sun dipped lower, we knew we had to make our way back. The lake is dangerous at night without light, so we all set off in convoy for the southwest, back to the Kachikayach cabins. The temperature dropped quickly, but we were all filled with peace as we headed home.

The sky turned a brilliant gold, and I felt a deep sense of gratitude for having been part of this day.

Back at Derek Jeremy Einish and Annie Vollant Einish’s cabin, they fired up the woodstove, and we warmed ourselves by the fire, sharing jokes and stories before heading back to camp.

On the way, we stopped at the ridge marking the border between Quebec and Labrador. Anaïs had never seen the Milky Way before, so we sat there for a while, spotting constellations, watching shooting stars, and tracking satellites as they passed overhead.

It was late by the time we returned to camp, and I was exhausted. But the party in the big tent was still going strong, so I joined in, dancing until they turned off the lights.

It was a good day.

Fri, Aug 30

Had breakfast with Johnny & Louisa B. Saganash. I’m really loving getting to know more about what Cree communities are like.

Today also marked the Community Walk Against Drugs and Alcohol. We all gathered at the intersection where Kachikayach Road splits between the Innu and Naskapi communities. Melissa Marie Peastitute has been key in organizing this movement; she even printed hoodies for everyone. Ajuash Uniam brought a busload of students to participate, which was amazing to see.

I wasn’t expecting such a large turnout! It was heartening to see so many people standing up against something that has deeply hurt our communities. Chiefs Theresa Chemaganish and Real McKenzie gave moving speeches, and Jean-Sebastien Louise Kapesh shared her own powerful testimony, driving the point home.

I put together a video of the walk, which I’m very very proud of.

Anaïs and I zipped ahead in the side-by-side to capture shots and videos as everyone marched. We ended the walk at the big tent, where more speeches followed—Father Raibe Alfred, both chiefs and William Moffat all shared words of encouragement and solidarity. I’ll post those speeches’ recordings on the Elders gathering page soon. As we walked to the Cultural Site, we stopped at the large sign forbidding drugs and alcohol.

One of the things I love most about the Elders Gathering is all the kids running around. Some of them learned from the elders how to pick blueberries and have been going out on their own to gather them and make “blueberry juice.” It’s such a sweet sight.

I took a quick trip back home in the afternoon for a shower. The weather has been incredible—warm, breezy, and fresh, with no bugs to speak of. I love it.

Back at the camp, communities have been visiting each other to trade and sell traditional wares. I saw a woman who brought a case full of beautiful handmade skirts for the Naskapi women to buy.

Later, I was in the kitchen when Elizabeth Pien held up a piece of bologna and joked, “Look, I made a PacMan!”

I had dinner with the Naskapi Elders tonight, which was a lovely way to wind down.

It seems like the sky is trying to outdo itself every evening. I just try to keep up to capture it.

As I was walking, a group of kids passed by and called out, “Are you the guy taking all the pictures? Take some of us! We’re going to listen to music!”

Soon after, an elderly couple made their way toward the big tent, saying, “We’re going to listen to music, too.”

I met a kid named ᓇᐱᓯᔅ who had made himself a bow. It reminded me so much of my childhood when I spent countless hours exploring the woods with Noah Nabinicaboo, Aaron Einish, James Pien, Donna Einish Mortimer, ᒐᓯᑲ ᓇᑕᐛᐱᔪᐤ, and so many others. Those were some of the best times.

As the sun set, the Big Tent was packed. Several bands played, and everyone danced the night away. It was a joyful, vibrant scene, filled with laughter, music, and movement.

Elders gatherings are for lovers, too. Couples cuddled up everywhere, enjoying the music under the stars. I wished Marilyne could be here to enjoy this.

Laurent Mark absolutely rocked the stage tonight, and bits of Northern Lights peeked through the clouds.

Today was a good day.

Tue, Aug 27

The next morning was rough. I hadn’t slept well, and things seemed off from the start. When I arrived at the Naskapi Kitchen to work, I discovered that the table I’d been using as a desk was gone. I had to improvise, piecing together a makeshift desk with a couple of chairs and a piece of plywood I found in the garbage. Not the ideal setup, but it got me through.

In the big tent, the air was full of anticipation. We held several meetings, tying up loose ends for the opening day of the Elders Gathering. The kitchen crew outdid themselves with an incredible breakfast spread, a reminder of the care and skill that goes into every meal here.

John Chescappio added a beautiful touch to the gathering with a tall signpost for the stage, showing accurate distances between each community and the Gathering site. A subtle but powerful reminder of how far we’ve all come to be here together.

Before we ate, Michapow  (Paul Arthur McKenzie) led everyone in prayer.

Raoul Vollant, a SOCAM reporter, was busy interviewing elders and leaders, capturing their stories and wisdom. The elders were happy to be back together—it was heartwarming to see.

A floatplane buzzed over the camp as we ate, adding a classic northern touch to the scene. Would it even be a real northern camp without a floatplane flying by?

The day wasn’t without its challenges. My computer started acting up while I was trying to edit videos, and after countless attempts, it refused to turn back on. As if that wasn’t enough, gale-force winds knocked out the internet, making everything more difficult. Five hours on the phone with Apple tech support felt like an eternity, and in between troubleshooting, I was still trying to shoot photos and videos.

But there was a small, emotional lift during the chaos: I discovered that my Dad had made me a sign for my tent. It was a simple gesture, but it meant so much to me.

Meanwhile, preparations for the opening ceremony continued. The women dressed in their finest, and Samson came by to lend his expertise in butchering geese.

Noah Swappie led a beautiful presentation on Naskapi history, which Nuwata Robinseeno helped put together.

You can view the full presentation here.

In the kitchen, the cooks didn’t stop. They had no time to clean up, just moving from one task to the next as they prepared meal after meal for everyone.

The Jimmy Sandy Memorial School Grade 2 Class led the Opening Ceremony with a dance, all dressed up in traditional clothing. It was absolutely adorable.

You can watch the dance here.

Chief Theresa Chemaganish officially opened everything, accompanied by Chiefs and dignitaries from all the other nations. Several nations gave gifts to her and some of the organizers of the event.

Réal McKenzie, Mike McKenzie, Jean-Charles Piétacho, Simon Pokue, Theresa Chemaganish, Annick Flamand, Hervé Pinecic, and Angela Pasteen all gave speeches.

Michapow (Paul Arthur McKenzie) started the Opening Ceremonies with traditional drumming.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Trying to make things work against all odds is draining. But I found a workaround for the video editing issue—using my phone to record video, transferring it to my iPad via an SD card adapter, and then uploading it with Ethernet. It was a hassle, but at least it worked.

Toward the end of the day, the rain got more intense. I was cold. I was wet. I was tired. But my stove was hot, my bed was warm, and as I lay there, the Northern Lights danced above me. Somehow, in the middle of it all, everything felt worth it.

Wed, Aug 28

This morning started a bit differently. They held mass in the big tent, and I slept in, catching the tail end of it. I had been catching up on much-needed sleep, and despite the terrific windstorm from the night before, I slept like a stone.

At the Naskapi Development Corporation’s display, they laid out artifacts, crafts, and the history of the Naskapi people. It was inspiring to see elders from other communities admiring the collection, taking in the rich stories of the past.

Back in the kitchen, the staff saved me some pancakes for breakfast and even set me up with my own little table. It was such a thoughtful gesture—one that made me feel so cared for.

Later in the morning, Caroline St-Onge led a session on grief. Our community was shaken by the tragic news that one of our young men had taken his own life during the night. The grief session was exactly what we all needed to process this heavy loss. The community has lost many people this year, but this event made it clearer than ever how much we need each other in these difficult times.

There was some beautiful singing after the session, which you can watch on the Elders Gathering – Rassemblement des aînés 2024 page. The sharing circles that followed were incredibly moving, with elders exchanging stories, comforting one another, and reconnecting in this sacred space.

I took a brief trip back to the village to shower, wash some clothes, and gather supplies. When I returned, the rain was easing up, and a giant rainbow arched across the tents.

Back at the main tent, all of us workers were treated to a lasagna lunch, a welcome break from the busy day. Cheyenne generously handed out handmade phone bags to the workers, and I received a beautiful one with feathers that matched my hoodie perfectly.

Seeing so many children running around the gathering fills my heart with joy. It reminds me of the times I was brought to elders’ camps as a child—experiences that deepened my love for this community and continue to do so.

While walking around the camp, I was approached by a man who asked, “You are Benjamin, aren’t you?” It turned out to be the father of Dan George, a childhood friend I hadn’t seen in decades. He brought me back to the Innu kitchen tent, where they treated me to hot tea and cookies as we reminisced about the old days.

Later, I helped salvage what was left of the donation center that my parents had set up, which had been obliterated by the storm. We managed to save some of the structure and the tarp, which I ended up using for my tent. At one point, the wind almost blew my dad away as we worked to secure everything!

Though the wind was still strong, the storm eventually cleared, rewarding us with a bright and crisp sunset. More tents were going up, and there are still many elders yet to arrive.

Back at the main tent, we crowned the king and queen of the gathering—Johnny and Louisa B. Saganash, a Cree couple. They treated us to a traditional dance, which was much faster than the Naskapi style!

We ended the day with a candlelight vigil for George Amos Guanish, who had passed away this morning. Julian Swappie-Thomas led a touching song, and Johnny and Louisa B. Saganash led everyone in comforting the Guanish family.

Afterwards, I spent some time visiting with the Naskapi Noohooms in their tent, listening to their stories of what life was like in the old days.

As I secured the salvaged tarp to my tent, the Northern Lights once again danced in the sky above me. I can’t help but feel deeply grateful to be here, surrounded by this land and these people.

So.

Internet at the Ka Mamunuiitananuch Cultural Site ended up being a lot less cooperative than I expected, and I ended up having just enough time to upload the pictures for the Elder’s Gathering every day on social media… and very little else.

So, now I’m catching up with my journal posts. I couldn’t upload much video work on the Elder’s Gathering page either, so I’m editing videos and uploading them now. My computer also had issues, which I’ll get into.

But for now, my plan is to make posts covering 2-3 days, until I catch up with the present day. So here it goes!

Sun, Aug 25

Today started with a peaceful morning at St. John’s Anglican Church in Kawawachikamach. It was wonderful to see some of the Noohooms from the Elders Gathering outside, enjoying the quiet start to the day.

The Naskapi Nation has been generous enough to let me use a side-by-side vehicle to get around, and I’m incredibly grateful for it. I get a little dirty, but that’s all part of the experience out here. In the summer, the dust is everywhere no matter what you drive.

For lunch, I had in one of my absolute favorite dishes—caribou stew, prepared by the cooks at the Naskapi Kitchen.

Afterward, I spent some time photographing Naskapi women as they gathered spruce boughs for the elders. At one point, they handed me a chainsaw to help out, which I happily did—though I didn’t realize I was getting my picture taken too!

The men were also busy, drilling holes and trimming tent poles to set up tents for the elders.

It’s amazing to see entire streets created by rows of traditional tents.

Behind the Big Tent, I helped Alexandria burn the feathers off of some geese. I learned how to do this when I was young, using a campfire, but we used a blowtorch instead due to the risk of forest fires. The scent of the burning feathers brought me back.

Later in the day, Martha-Joanne took me out in her boyfriend’s new ride to gather supplies from Kachikayach Lake for her grandmother Norma’s tent. She was kind enough to lend me a mattress and blankets so I could stay warm in my own tent.

Kachikayach is such a peaceful and grounding place, I miss our cabin there.

As we made our way back, the sun began to set and I flew my drone to capture the stunning colors of the sky as it dipped below the horizon.

The day ended with a moment of awe as I watched the Northern Lights dance across the sky. There’s something indescribably special about living in a place where you can casually look up and see the entire universe unfold above you.

I feel so lucky to have spent the whole day working on the land I love with the people I love.

Mon, Aug 26

I’ve come to really appreciate my mornings by Hanas Lake. There’s something so grounding and peaceful about starting the day in such a calm place. It centers me and helps me focus on the tasks ahead.

There wasn’t any breakfast at the camp this morning, so I rode back to Kawawachikamach to take a good shower and make myself some breakfast.

As soon as I returned to the camp, a Wiskichak visited the camp, perching on my tent, and then on my neighbors. I’ve been told that these birds are good luck, and that good hunters would always leave a little bit of food out for them.

Much of the camp needed firewood, so I spent most of the day helping people load up and distribute it. There’s something satisfying about contributing to the warmth and comfort of the camp, even in such a simple way.

Because I need both power and a strong internet connection for my work, they set me up in the Naskapi Kitchen. It’s a good spot—not only because of the resources, but because I’m surrounded by the warmth and delicious smells of people preparing great food.

My dad, Bill Jancewicz, and Maggie Mokoush-Swappie led prayers and singing in the big tent today. Hearing their voices lift in prayer and song, with the camp growing quiet to listen, was a touching moment.

More elders were moving into the camp, and Naskapi elders occupied the 5 cabins surrounding the Big Tent.

Some elders stopped by the kitchen to offer advice and tips to the younger women who were cooking.

Meanwhile, families were settling into their tents, preparing beds and visiting areas for the evening ahead.

I’ve also noticed how hard workers like Natush Peastitute have been working. They’ve been here for over a week, building platforms, setting up beds, and installing tents for the elders. The level of dedication is inspiring.

As dusk began to fall, the camp slowed down, becoming softer and quieter. But the work in the kitchen wasn’t over yet! The ladies there were already busy preparing breakfast for the next day. While preparing cantaloupe, I couldn’t help but laugh when someone said, “This is just like butchering a seal!” Only in the North could you hear something like that!

By the time the half-moon rose, the stars were putting on a spectacular show, undimmed by the moonlight.