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Joseph BoydenA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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Content Warning: The source text and this guide depict the sexual violation, traumatization, and abuse of an Ojibwe child by a residential school, as well as scenes of cultural erasure and its resultant physical and emotional distress.
In this text, Joseph Boyden exposes and explores the myriad ways in which the residential school system neglected, mistreated, and abused untold numbers of children. In his Author’s Note, Boyden refers to the stories of thousands of residential school survivors collected by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2007-2015). Rather than serving as an accurate biography of Wenjack’s escape from the Cecilia Jeffrey Indian Residential School, Boyden’s retelling of Wenjack’s story stands as a source of symbolic truths. Wenjack’s inner reflections and the exact nature of his passing are lost to history. Through Boyden’s narrative, though, Wenjack’s suffering and death double as a symbol for the suffering and deaths of countless other Indigenous children, who remain unnamed and unknown.
Throughout Wenjack, white schoolteachers severely beat and punish the boys in their care. This is made clear when Wenjack describes washing the backs of his peers. He notes how there are “long red marks” on one friend’s back and reveals that there are “ever a lot of red marks” on other boys’ backs as well (3). This illustrates that physical violence is an accepted and normalized means of repressing the boys’ culture and controlling their behavior, as opposed to being an aberration in the system’s treatment of students. The extent to which violent practices are “normal” in this abusive system is likewise shown when Wenjack explains that he whispers Ojibwe words to himself rather than saying them aloud. Indeed, when Wenjack hears the slap of the beaver tail, it reminds him of being beaten at school for speaking his native language: “[T]he slap of amik tail is the slap of teacher across my face” (71). Wenjack also recalls that “The Fish Belly who teaches [students] doesn’t let [them] drink any water when [they] answer words wrong. He doesn’t let [them] eat, either” (30). This is an abusive means of motivating students to learn English—a language that many of them would never have been exposed to prior to their arrival at the school. It is telling that the teachers brand Ojibwe as a perpetual “wrong answer,” no matter how or why it is used, on the grounds that it is inferior and “savage.” Their racist attitudes are further illuminated when Wenjack is made to “eat soap” by a teacher who overheard him using Ojibwe words. By forcing boys to literally consume a sanitation product, white teachers make visible their biased conviction that Indigenous languages are a substandard, unsanitary, and profane means of communication.
Yet even this is not the worst of their abuse. Wenjack remembers that he accidentally apologized once in Ojibwe to Fish Belly: “‘Nimaanendam!’ I say but it comes out with my tongue not his. I mean to say I am sorry, I say, and he slaps me again so I fall out of my chair” (71). In response, Fish Belly drags Wenjack by his hair to the basement, locks him in a room, and viciously rapes him. Wenjack recalls the teacher’s instructions during this episode, interspliced with fragments of his own fear and pain: “[T]ake off your clothes. I shake,” “he pushes himself against me,” “he hurts” (72-73). In this way, the text shows the brutal and hypocritical lengths the colonial system would go to try and extinguish Indigeneity and replace it with the supposedly civilized, culturally proper, and morally “clean” language of English.
The boys’ uncle recognizes the extent of Wenjack’s pain and suffering. It scares and intimidates the uncle: “[S]omeone broke something in him” (54). Similarly, the boys’ cousin observes that “someone hurt him bad” (55). Wenjack’s trauma isolates him and causes him to sob alone outside of the uncle and aunt’s home. Through Wenjack’s suffering, Boyden draws the reader’s attention to the ongoing agony experienced by those whom the residential school system sexually, physically, or emotionally abused—and to the devastating intracommunal divisions and intergenerational traumas this abuse continues to cause.
Due to the school’s program of forced assimilation, Wenjack struggles to retain his Ojibwe identity, including the ability to speak his native language. Half of the chapters are told from Wenjack’s first-person perspective, in his own personal blend of English and Ojibwe. Despite his best efforts to secretly remember his language—often by whispering it at night—the majority of Wenjack’s expressions occur in English. In fact, he speaks only a few Ojibwe words. For example, “I can tell which niijii, which friend, ran away from school this week by the long red marks on his back” (3). This loss of language is due to the school’s English-only policy. As noted above, teachers cruelly punish the children for speaking in their native languages: “[I]f the Fish Bellies hear me speak my words they beat me with a stick and make me eat soap” (2). After all he goes through to hold on to his language, Wenjack is understandably distressed when he finds that he can no longer remember Ojibwe words that used to be familiar to him: “[W]hat is my word for none?” (43). To hear Wenjack speak is, for the uncle, to hear “Ojibwe weaving through the stubborn English” (52). English is characterized as a “stubborn” language because even when Wenjack is conversing with a native Ojibwe speaker, he relies on English words to express himself. The uncle’s reflection hence alludes to the success this residential school has had in destroying Ojibwe cultural knowledge and language.
Furthermore, this institution has forced the boys to adopt Euro-Christian concepts about gender. They feel ashamed when they hold each other through the night, despite the freezing weather. The owl spirit watching over the boys sadly observes that the “shame of having touched one another” is a lesson “not taught by their own but by others” (22). In other words, their discomfort illustrates the boys’ learned allegiance to Euro-Christian colonizers’ concepts of masculinity. This anecdote can also be read as an allusion to Wenjack’s experience of sexual abuse, which the brothers may well have undergone too. Had the boys remained in their own culture, they would likely have associated physical contact with positive feelings of familial love and communal care instead.
Wenjack’s forcible removal from his family has also robbed him of vital practical knowledge. Although Wenjack feels at home in the woods, he is without the survival skills necessary to find shelter, produce fire, and hunt or forage for food. All of these things are contributing factors in his death. When he is freezing and starving, Wenjack tries to think about what his father would advise him to do; he concludes that his father would recommend that he stop and warm up. Yet Wenjack cannot warm up because he is inexperienced with fire-building. Freezing and exhausted, he tries to light a fire with a soaking wet wax paper: “[T]ouch match to paper but paper doesn’t want to. Just turns green for a bit and then smoky” (85). Wenjack soon hears the slap of a beaver tail; he remembers how his father caught a beaver and ably cooked its tail over a fire. However, Wenjack does not know how to hunt beaver. As such, he is left to weakly wish, “[I]f only amik would give me his tail” (69).
The purging of Indigenous knowledge from students was a strategy intentionally and systematically pursued by residential schools bent on forcibly integrating students into Euro-Canadian language, culture, and beliefs. Wenjack displays courage as he determinedly tries to resist the school’s program of cultural erasure and return to his family. Memory is in large part what sustains him; in the opening line of Chapter 1, Wenjack says to himself, “Gimik-wenden-ina? Do you remember?” (1). He whispers words to himself in his native language, Ojibwe, in the hopes of retaining them. In particular, he constantly practices the words for his family members: “Daddy. Nindede. Mama. Nimaamaa, My sisters. Nimiseyag. My dogs. Aminoshag” (2). By doing so, he tries to remain connected to his family, whom he misses desperately, and resists the residential school’s obsession with erasing his language and culture.
Ironically, Wenjack’s resilience and determination contribute to his youthful demise. Despite the rapidly cooling evening, Wenjack continues to try and reach his family instead of taking shelter: “[Although] the wind blows cold from my arm where the school lives when I turn that way […] when I look the way my nindede and my nimaamaa and my two nimiseyag live, where they wait for me […] there is no choice. I must walk” (65). The cold wind that blows from the school’s direction symbolizes the coldness that Wenjack experienced there due to the cruelty and abuse of his teachers and the loneliness and homesickness he felt while in their “care.” Conversely, the other direction—the one that follows the train tracks north—symbolizes the warmth and love of his beloved family. He displays considerable resilience by choosing to stay out in the freezing night instead of turning back toward the school. His decision to do so is motivated by the depth of his love and longing for his family. He is driven forward by the thought of a joyous reunion with his father, mother, sisters, and dogs.
This theme is further developed when, nearing death, Wenjack whispers to himself: “Father. Nindede. Heart. Ninde” (88). The two words are similar in Ojibwe, thus illustrating that Wenjack’s heart belongs at home with his family and, in particular, with his father. His efforts to resist cultural erasure, to retain his Ojibwe identity, and to hold on to his connection with his family remain at the forefront of Wenjack’s mind even as he drifts toward death. Wenjack’s determination to resist the influence of the school’s Euro-Canadian culture and to keep his spiritual and emotional connection to his Ojibwe heritage is rewarded when his spirit returns to the forest after death. Although Wenjack does not have the physical reunion with his family that he so longed for, there is a kind of poetic justice achieved through his afterlife with the Ojibwe forest spirits, the Manitous. The Manitous return Wenjack to his Ojibwe culture: “Mother lynx and Chanie we call to the centre to honour proper, and we revel in the world we’ve created around them” (96).
By Joseph Boyden