In my haste to send this report off and in my state of weariness, I failed to double-check my own work...
It was Chief Stewart Phillip of the Penticton Band, not "Chief Philip Louie", whom I was quoting.
Chief Robert Louie of the Westbank band, said that The WFN is poised to move toward member land ownership more quickly without the confines of the Indian Act, according to Kelowna Capital News, staff reporter, Shelley Nichol, in her November 25th article on the First Ministers' and National Aboriginal Leaders Conference.
Please accept my humble apologies, Chiefs Louie and Philip.
Yours very truly,
David-Hunter: Thomson
----- Original Message -----
From: David Thomson
To: Paul Martin
Cc: Senator Ross Fitzpatrick ; Werner Schmidt MP ; ; Office of the Premier PREM:EX ; Al Horning - MLA
Sent: Friday, November 25, 2005 11:34 PM
Subject: Pow-wow at the Grande Hotel

It's day 2 of a 2-day Pow-wow between the Chiefs, Martin, the Priemiers and a few hand-picked "apples" - red on the outside; white in the middle. At least, I've heard rumours to that effect. We'll just have to wait to see what becomes of it but whatever becomes of it, it could be the "cookie-cutter" for legislation that extinguishes indiginous rights, around the globe. Legislation that opens the gate to a tide of corporate plunder, around the globe, is the chief (no pun intended) concern .Indeed it should concern every global villager.
I started the event off with a pass down Water Street, interupted by a Mountie on guard duty on my return pass, in front of the Grande. He told me that horn-honking was illegal. I told him that when he started to excercise the law with regard to the criminal allegations that I've been making for years, now, I'd show him more respect to the petty laws that he's concerned about. Then I tried to serve him a copy of the letters that I wrote to Victor Janicki and Corporal Albrecht but he wouldn't take them - "What - scared of a piece of paper?"
There were about 6 or 8 of the demonstrators from the Kelowna Friendship Centre on the corner and the odd passer-by. "He's scared of a piece of paper!" I shouted to them. Everyone thought it was funny but the cop, who repeated his order for me to leave, barking his authority at me. Off I went, honking my horn as I mosied past the court-house section of the block, turning into the boat-launch to make another pass. I rolled my window down and used my bicycle horn, picking up "a tail" after I passed Cawston. It was their new van and it followed me, lights flashing, down Water to Ellis, over Cawston, back onto Water and down passed the courthouse to the boat-launch, where I turned in to pull over.
I guess they didn't want to be using their siren (that would defeat their purpose ;-) and I did consider doing "a mainer" like that, about 15-20 miles an hour, just for fun. I decided that it would be more prudent for me to choose the location to pull over, rather than to wait till they road-block me in and maybe tow the truck away. After all, I didn't want to miss Paul, who, I heard, snuck out the back door of the Grande and was likely spirited off to a back door of the Arts Centre, behind the tinted glass of a shiny (they're not using black as much, anymore) Suburban.
The spirit of the event was very powerful and uplifting and I felt truly welcome, there. I spent the entire afternoon, sharing and learning and listening to the likes of Art Manuel and other leaders of the Grassroots Movement. I even re-aquainted myself with a child-hood friend, Tom the son of a former chief, Norman Lindley. Tom's a heart-felt dissident, who appears to have moved into the intellectual years of his time, here. He'll have plenty to contribute to our common cause; after all, "peel away our skin - we're all red on the inside."
I said that to Seargent Cam Forgues as we marched by him, war drums pounding, me keeping rythym, pounding on my sign. Cam chuckled as he nodded in agreement but I sensed that he was lingering on the thought...
I thought of another way of putting it;
"We are a mix of multi-coloured candy coatings - it's what's inside that counts. Take care, though; some of the peanuts are rancid."
There was one incedent that took place while we drummed and chanted at the front entrance to the hotel, defiant in the face of a line of security forces of several "stripes". Some of the young braves hurled insults, expressed in derogatory and course language. Some of the elders expressed concern that the language amplified the intensity, hightening awareness of the possibility of agressive retaliation on the part of the "stripes". Indeed, I was acutely aware of the possibility, too, given my earlier experiences and based on recent world history at APEC, Seattle, Montreal, The Hyatt in Vancouver and most appalling, Genoa.
I had the opportunity to discuss my concern with a young brave, later. He explained that traditionally, indians believe that humiliation is sufficient in defeating their foes. To get close enough to slap your enemy on the face, knocking him off his pony, is considered to be a coup. Hurling insults is, figuratively, slapping your adversary in the face and that is what they were doing.
As I consider the explanation, I realise how much alike we all are. Most assuredly, a stinging insult is "like a slap in the face.
It is, however, my heartfelt concern that what is being tabled for North American indigenous people, does not and will not positively affect the lives of the majority these people but does stand to enrich a select few.
I do agree with Chief Philip Louie, though...
Self-governance and the tools it brings, Louie explained, are the only way fellow Aboriginals can reach their goals.
"If those elements are not strong, money alone won't solve our problems," he told Prime Minister Paul Martin, the 13 provincial and territory leaders and five First Nations leaders.
I do hope that as well, these indiginous people are permitted to hold onto those territories that were agreed to in good faith, as defined in those Treaties they relied on, then. As it is, the ruling elite claimed all the best land, leaving just a remaining fraction, thought by that ruling class,  to be insignificant, non-productive real-estate. If these negotiations trade away so much as an acre, it will be no different than when they traded away their land for a few trinkets and beads.
Keep on truckin' eh,
David Thomson
725 Franklyn Road
Kelowna, British Columbia
Ph:(250) 765-6826

No virus found in this incoming message.
Checked by AVG Free Edition.
Version: 7.1.362 / Virus Database: 267.13.7/182 - Release Date: 11/24/2005