FNUC drama: a look behind the scenes of critical week at FSIN assembly

Seventeen-year-old Amelia Badger walked up to the podium at the Federation of Saskatchewan Indian Nations (FSIN) assembly this week at the Whitecap Dakota First Nation, briefly looked out at the 400 assembled chiefs and delegates, and froze.

Badger, the 2009 FSIN powwow princess, had been asked to give the customary youth address, which is typically a short, polite greeting. But this was no ordinary assembly.

The chiefs were about to embark on the second marathon day of debate over the future of the First Nations University of Canada (FNUC).

The first day had been disastrous for those seeking reform at the beleaguered school, as various coalitions of chiefs blocked changes requested by the FSIN’s own task force, FNUC students and most partners and funding agencies. Advanced Education Minister Rob Norris had announced Wednesday afternoon from Regina the province was cutting millions in funding to FNUC, enraging many of the delegates.

On Thursday morning, the idea of reform seemed dead, with some openly threatening blockades and a new “war” with the government.

Badger, whose public speaking to that point had been limited to classrooms of elementary students ogling her princess crown, couldn’t get any words out. Her mouth opened, but the only sounds were shallow, rapid breaths.

After more than two minutes of near silence, her grandfather, or “mooshum,” Frank Asapace, mother Bernadette Badger and two other women approached and put their arms around her.

“Try your best,” her mooshum whispered in her ear.

“Speak from your heart,” said her mom.

Badger breathed deeply and then launched into her speech with nearly flawless delivery.

“It’s very sad to see what’s happening with First Nations University,” she said to the hushed room.

“I was really thinking of going there.”

Badger, who hails from the Kawacatoose First Nation 150 kilometres southeast of Saskatoon, wants to attend FNUC for her pre-medicine studies to learn about her people and culture.

“I’ll be graduating next year. I ask all of you to do what’s best for our education.”

As she walked back to her seat, delegates applauded and hugged her.

In an interview from her home Friday, Badger said she was elated to hear the chiefs had voted unanimously in favour of reforms after she’d gone home.

“That’s what I wanted them to do,” she said.

The future of the school remains unclear, but Badger hopes she played a small part in making things better.

The other voice of calm on Thursday came from Chief Lynn Acoose of the Sakimay First Nation, 150 kilometres east of Regina. Acoose listened from her chair to a series of vitriolic rants directed at provincial First Nations and Metis Relations Minister Bill Hutchinson.

“Let’s close off the forests. Let’s close off some bridges. Let’s close off some highways. This war is active and alive today,” said Chief Robert Head of the Peter Chapman First Nation.

“Your premier has no interest in aboriginal people,” said Chief Ralph Paul of the English River Dene Nation.

Chief Roy Cheechum of the Clearwater River Dene Nation accused the provincial government of cutting funding to solidify its support among the “red-necked racist electorate in this province.”

Acoose, who comes from a long line of leaders, but has only been the Sakimay chief since September, approached the podium to deliver the address for the FSIN women’s commission. She urged delegates to focus on the big picture.

“We need to what’s right for our children,” she said.

“Do we want to be remembered as the generation that tore down our institutions? Let’s put aside our political interests.”

Not long afterward, the meeting was closed off to the media and other guests. The anger was still raw for some delegates as they prepared for the in-camera debate, but the speeches by Badger and Acoose had tempered the escalating rhetoric.

During the closed-door sessions Wednesday and Thursday, several sources spoke to The StarPhoenix during washroom or snack breaks, or sent text messages from inside.

On Day 1, the reform motion went nowhere. It wasn’t even introduced, as highly organized opponents had lobbied the large undecided portion of the room.

On Day 2, once the meeting went behind closed doors, the gambit was played by Chief Guy Lonechild. With the province removing funding and the federal government threatening to do the same, Lonechild could have railed against the media, the province and other perceived enemies, a tactic that has proven popular for politicians at all levels. Instead, he told the assembly that chiefs — who elected him just a few months ago — have no place on the FNUC board of governors. Lonechild resigned his spot on the board and encouraged everyone to support the resolution.

If his move failed, not only would it be a blow to his leadership, it would free the original FNUC board to have its meetings without him.

The Saskatoon Tribal Council and a handful of others had been on side with Lonechild from the first day, but others began to come around as well.

“We’ve got Prince Albert (Grand Council),” said one high-ranking official during the afternoon, giving the thumbs-up sign.

By the time the motion was introduced by Muskeg Lake Cree Nation Chief Cliff Tawpesim — who became chief recently after waging a very public campaign against alleged corruption on his home reserve — consensus had been achieved. The vote was 46 in favour, none against, with eight abstentions.

The FNUC board of governors would be dissolved, and senior administrators would be placed on leave. A source said they’ve already begun to ask respected First Nations people to sit on the interim board. These include former teacher, Prince Albert Grand Chief and Liberal MP Gary Merasty, who is currently a vice-president for Cameco Corp., as well as Harry Lafond, a former Muskeg Lake chief and passionate advocate for youth sports. Lafond was one of the authors of the 2005 All Chief’s Task Force, the first of several reports to recommend major reforms at FNUC.

An exhausted Lonechild was one of the last to leave the assembly hall, and spoke briefly to reporters outside.

“It has been an emotional roller-coaster,” Lonechild said. “It was a risk worth taking.”