Blockade brought out worst in Chateauguay

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The standoff in Chateauguay between Kahnawake Mohawks and Quebec police officers brought out the worst in some Chateauguay residents.

The well-to-do city, 9 km south of Montreal, on the banks of the tranquil river, which gave the city of 38,000 people its name, seemed to develop a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality.

By day people in Chateauguay, a bedroom community of Montreal, went about their business, mowing lawns, swimming, grocery shopping, working.....Or they came to the blockade at the end of the city's main street to watch the Kahnawake Mohawks or to watch the police watching the Kahnawake Mohawks.

But night was a different story. The psychology of the Mercier Mob took over as people marched or drove through local streets and back roads before ending up at the blockade, where toe orgy of frustration would end. There it would climax every night for a week after the July 11 blockading of the bridge with the burning of the effigy of a Mohawk Indian every night.

They were angered their lifeline to Canada's second largest city, Highway 138 through Kahnawake and the Mercier Bridge, was blocked.

Not everyone was caught up in the atmosphere. Many would watch from the safety of their windows or lawns or balconies, declining offers to join the procession.

"People like that are cuckoo," shouted a resident standing at the curb in her nightclothes as the crowd marched past her on their way to the blockade.

They had just left the property of Chateauguay MNA Pierrette Cardinal. Outside her home, chanting in English, they sang "Nan-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, hey-y-y-good-bye," while others clucked like a chicken. Police guarded her home. When she didn't appear, the crowd marched on with drivers honking their horns in unison while others sang Libre Pont Mercier (Open the Mercier Bridge).

The crowd of at least 1,000 people seemed under control, but an under current of hostility and racism ran through it. Ironically, there was almost a festive atmosphere. Before long a bonfire was lit and soon an effigy was on fire under the gaze of about 150 police officers.

"If a Native person were here tonight, he'd be up there strung from the light pole," said a journalist.

Surete du Quebec officers assisted by the RCMP stood two deep behind their barricades with shields on and truncheons ready should the mob decide to storm the barricade. Several Chateauguay officers in the blue uniform f th force stood behind the barricades seemingly defenceless, without flak jackets, face shields, protective gloves or truncheons. But they had the advantage of being on their home turf and chatted it up with local residents.

Some residents sat in lawn chairs at a service station while business was brisk at two nearby catering trucks.

Up the Street two ambulances were on standby.

One man carried a placard "Degardex les guerrillas. Ouvrez la route."(Disarm the guerillas. Open the road).

The hostility displayed by longtime acquaintances and neighbors was embarrassing, confided a local radio reporter.

He has bee on hand a week into the blockade of the bridge linking Chateauguay with Montrel when some members of the crowd wanted more than to burn Indian effigies.

A white male walked by two blacks calling out 'Nigger'.

Getting no response, he stopped and slugged one of the black youths, who then fought back.

Police stood by for four to five minutes before jumping in, he said. By that time the two youths had been badly beaten. Their female friends were saved from a similar fate by two journalists - a freelancer and a Toronto Star reporter - who jumped between them and their would-be attackers.

It was a frightening time to be in Chateauguay as an English journalist with a Native newspaper. I had been warned by Mohawks and journalists alike to keep a low profile. That was tempered with concern about how the police would react if some members of the crowd turned on me, given the experience of the black youths.

It was clear from watching them behin the barricade they had a generally cordial relationship with local residents.

For an outsider that was unsettling. But Chateauguay while sharing some of the dark features of the southern United Sates in the 1960s seemed to realize that as the blockade dragged on.

And some local resident disturbed by the intolerance in their community mounted a counter demonstration and spoke out publicly to denounce racism to pull their city back from the brink.

But the scars will take time to heal, if they ever will.

"I've been here 25 years and there's been no trouble before," said a black male just as the latest effigy burning had ended.

The rain tonight seemed to cool things down, he said.

But the community has probably changed forever, he said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

And he wasn't talking about for the better.