As a journalist, there are times I find it difficult to remain unaffected by the stories I cover on a daily basis. That’s especially true when it comes to dealing with the topic of suicide.
I found myself in one of those situations three months ago when I was assigned to cover a group of young aboriginal people who are walking across Canada to raise awareness about the disturbingly growing number of suicides among aboriginal people, especially young people. The aim of the group is to talk to as many people as possible about suicide prevention on their travels.
They started their three-month journey on March 14 in Sydney. And slowly, they’ve made their way to their home province of British Columbia.
Only four days into their journey, more than 30 people from my home community joined the five walkers as they made their way through Indian Brook to the community centre, where a potluck meal and approximately 70 more people waited for them.
Before the meal, the five youths took to the stage to not only talk about the alarming rates of suicide among aboriginal youths, but to tell their own stories of how they lost family members and loved ones who, in a moment of despair and loneliness, took their own lives. They also explained what it was like to be the one left behind to deal with the tragic loss.
This group wants to carry the burden of those who are thinking of committing suicide, to show them that someone out there cares for them.
“I’ve lost an auntie through suicide and I’m doing it for her, just to help people that are having problems and need extra work, need an extra person to lift them up that much further,” Thomas Watts, one of the five youths participating in the walk, said following his presentation.
“There’s always someone that cares, there’s always that person that really wants to help you out. You know, there’s many of us and to lift their spirits up, just to pick them up that much more, to put a smile on their face, talk to them, have a little bit of fun,” he explained.
As I was listening to the presentation by these young men, I couldn’t help but think about my loved one who took his own life nearly 19 years ago, my uncle Steve, when he was 28 years old.
From time to time, I think back to the night he committed suicide. At times, it seems like it all happened yesterday. Even though I learned early on how to deal with the loss of a close relative, such as the death of my grandfather when I was seven years old, my uncle’s death still haunts me.
I often find myself trying to understand what place my uncle was in when he chose to take his life that night. I knew he had suffered from mental illness for a few years before then, even though he tried his best to hide that from me. I wish I had been there that night to comfort him in his sadness; maybe my presence could have changed that part of our family’s past.
I also find myself thinking about what’s happened in our family in those 19 years: the birth of another niece and nephew for him; my graduation from two universities; a wedding; and the fact that he became a great-uncle many times over. It makes me sad to know that he has missed all of those happy occasions.
I have a circle of mainly aboriginal friends who also have had a loved one commit suicide. It’s disturbing for me to think that one of the main things I have in common with my close friends is that we all have been affected, in one way or another, by knowing someone who committed suicide. Far too many of our loved ones are taking their own lives.
I saw that same troubled look on the faces of the people who gathered to hear these youths talk because suicide is the disturbing thing many of us have in common.
I was moved by the courage and strength displayed by these aboriginal youths who are choosing to do something to combat the number of aboriginal people committing suicide. And I’ll certainly be thinking of them on June 21, Aboriginal Day, when their walk ends on the steps of the British Columbia legislature in Victoria.
Maureen Googoo is a Mi’kmaq journalist living and working in Halifax.
