In Ontario’s north, an Indigenous community digs into its history

The white quartzite mountains that run along the north shore of Lake Huron provide a stunning backdrop to the ancestral lands of Sagamok Anishnawbek.

Here, since time immemorial, the Anishnawbek lived by fishing, hunting and gathering. They crafted tools from stone and pots from clay, and traded with neighbouring communities and more distant groups from the south. This way of life continued until the arrival of the Europeans, with the establishment of the Fort La Cloche trading post in the late 1700s and the contemporary reserve of Sagamok Anishnawbek almost a century later.

Archaeological investigations at the site in the 1960s and 1970s unearthed centuries-old artifacts from the operation of Fort La Cloche – and some, much older, from the ancestors of the Anishnawbek. While members of Sagamok Anishnawbek assisted in the excavations conducted by provincial archaeologists, they had no control over the recovered objects.

Fast forward 50-plus years, to 2019. Alicia Hawkins, an associate professor of anthropology at U of T Mississauga, and Sarah Hazell, an archaeologist and member of the Nipissing First Nation, began collaborating with Naomi Recollet, the collections manager at the Ojibwe Cultural Foundation on Manitoulin Island, to provide archaeological training to members of nearby Indigenous communities.

An Indigenous cultural centre that supports several First Nations along the north shore, the foundation had been caring for the objects recovered from the La Cloche site for the Ontario government since 2015. But it was difficult for community members to interact with the ancestral belongings because no catalogue existed. That sparked an idea: what if Hawkins and Hazell worked together with the Ojibwe Cultural Foundation, Sagamok Anishnawbek and local Indigenous communities to identify the artifacts and ancestors’ belongings, and add to the existing knowledge of the area?

The group connected with Allen Toulouse, a historical researcher for Sagamok Anishnawbek, who embraced the opportunity to uncover more about the history of the Anishnawbek people, and, potentially, to change how students across Canada learn about Indigenous culture. “I can sum up Anishnawbe history as I was taught in high school in two sentences,” he says. “They were hunter-gatherers. They lived in birchbark wigwams. That was it.”

Toulouse also saw a chance to help correct a historical wrong, in which Indigenous peoples had little say over archaeological investigations on their own land. “This was a long-standing question in the community: what happened to our artifacts?” he said. “We were excluded from the whole process.” Hawkins, who specializes in community-based archeology, says support is growing to return ancestral belongings to Indigenous communities.

“It’s about time,” she says. “As a non-Indigenous archaeologist, my role, if I have one at all, should be to support communities to manage their heritage in a way that is most appropriate for them.” Hawkins adds that it costs money to care for these items in perpetuity. So, giving them back to First Nations without adequate resources is not a solution. “We need to be supporting communities to look after ancestral belongings, but at the same time not burdening them.”

As Hawkins and Hazell (now a PhD student in anthropology at U of T), have worked side by side with Indigenous community members to identify objects, they’ve found that knowledge travels in both directions: the academics are learning more about Sagamok history and culture, and the community members are deepening their knowledge of archaeological practices.

Sheila Madahbee, from Wiikwemkoong Unceded Territory, is one of the community members assisting with the project. Among the rocks, glass and pieces of rusted metal that have been collected, she sometimes finds clothing, arrowheads – even parts of a harmonica. “Today we were looking at leather pieces of shoes,” she says, observing they were made for tiny feet, almost certainly a child’s, causing her to wonder about the maker and recipient, and their lives.

It’s not always easy to distinguish who left which objects behind: next to the clay pipes and musical instruments used by 18th-century fur traders might be a 2,000-year-old hide-scraper. Madahbee likens cataloguing to fitting together the pieces of a puzzle that, when complete, will add to the story of the Sagamok people, told in their own words.

Hazell hopes the archaeological training will help Madahbee and others working on the project find a connection with their ancestors in a physical and spiritual way. Previously, to have that opportunity, she says, “they would have to go to a museum and see the artifacts behind glass, and not be allowed to touch them, or sing to them.” Now, Recollet at the Ojibwe Cultural Foundation enables Indigenous community members to care for the pieces according to their cultural traditions.

Toulouse says that while Sagamok have always been connected to the area and have shared their history through spoken word, the artifacts physically prove they lived on the land thousands of years ago, strengthening their claim to it.

He adds that he hopes the project will help expand Sagamok’s historical record and help rebuild lost pride. “The important part of this, especially for Indigenous peoples, is taking an interest in our past.”

This project is supported by Connaught Community Partnership Research Funding. 

This story first appeared in the Autumn issue of University of Toronto Magazine.