Would you call it compassion?

Page 5

Dear Editor:

On Oct. 11, I was escorted by two non-Native officers of the Correctional Service of Canada to visit with my dying sister in Edmonton. Though the temporary absence was granted for "compassionate" reasons, the treatment that my family was subjected to was totally in conflict with anything humane or compassionate. It was an insult to the Native concept of family.

Wearing leg shackles with handcuffs brings a very de-humanizing feeling to begin with, but to have to face my family, the community, and the staff at the hospice where my sister resided wearing this apparel is another insult to the idea of humane and epitomizes archaic thought totally. The handcuffs were kept on despite a request to hug and hold my sister. Further, the two officers remained observing and listening to us like they were gawking at a freak side-show of some sort, which prevented us from gathering our sweetgrass and from saying a prayer together as a family.

I have been out in the community at a half-way house two times this year without escape upon my mind. I am neither a rapist nor a murderer. I am to be released within a year. My sister has full-blown AIDS, is blind in one eye, has untreatable spinal cancer, and is about 60 pounds in weight. I cannot see why my family was subjected to such an ordeal? If I had foreseen this type of inhumane treatment, I would have declined the pass without question.

When compared with other non-Native and Native people's experiences with escorted temporary absences that they willingly shared with me, why were the restraints kept on myself when others' are removed as soon as they are off the institutional property? Why were we denied some privacy to share and pray together as a family and say our farewells properly with a hug?

Though the pass was to be a visit of four hours with my sister, approximately one hour after we began the visit, my brother and other sister telephoned to notify us that they were bringing us lunch. Well, after we shared this information with the two security officers, we were told that I could not eat with my sister one last time and that the Correctional Service of Canada was to provide for my meal and that no other family members would be allowed to visit while I was there. We were notified that the visit was being terminated.

How do you begin to say 'goodbye, little sister. I love you and will always miss you' expressly within moments of never seeing her again? Did they not realize that we will not be able to share time and eat together as a whole family again? Did they not have prior experience with a compassionate escort temporary absence? Do they understand the meaning of dying with some dignity, or respect for the dying? They spoke of us showing them some respect, ask yourself, how do you show respect when none is given in the first place?

Legally, I wish that I could pursue this insult to some type of resolve. Morally, it was an insult to Native people's respect for the dying, the traditions of our people and my mother that is almost 70 years old herself. Can I say goodbye properly to my little sister as she journey's home to our Creator through the pages of your newspaper? I love you Cher, now and forever. We will laugh again in a much better place and we both know that laughter is the purifier of the soul.

Kevin Leslie Stonechild

Drumheller, Alta.