I am going to share a story that haunted my mother, she was 5 at the time. In Delmas residential school, she and all the other kids were seated at the long, hard, and often dirty tables ( no matter how much the kids scrubbed them, the dirt and blood remained in the cracks) while dinner was taking place. Hunger was always an issue. These children, ages ranging from 4 to teen, were forced to pray while the nuns and priested feasted each evening. They could smell the fresh bread and meat, and their food, usually salt porridge or fish head soup and stale breads, sat in front of them. The growling little tummies and tears, and eyes never glancing at the table of feasting for fear of the thick leather belt or the long wooden sticks used on them until their little bones were heard cracking. My mom, was taken care of by an older girl, who she said, was 13 at the time this took place. She used to sing to her at night and comfort her when she was first taken to this cold, damp hell. During this meal, the kids, so hungry from working all day harvesting the garden they had taken care of, were tired and forced to pray while the nuns and priests filled themselves, butter, breads, vegetables and meat. Imagine what it took for that 13 year old to stand up mid prayer and yell at them? Imagine the courage. The head nun picked up a 2 X 4 by the wall and walked to her, striking her in the head. My mother watched as the girl slumped over and blood coming from the wound, died in front of her. The priest and nuns had the older boys dig her grave later that evening. A shallow hole where they didn't even bother to pray over her life, for her 'sin.' Anyone who doesn't believe these words, is the cruelest form of evil. I will always stand up to the deniers. Always. Our children deserve our bravery and our fight for them. If they were your family, what would you do? Tapwe🪶💔