by Mike Bruce
Perhaps the most memorable occasion of my many years at Camp Huronda happened in the fall of 2022, at the 50th anniversary. Anishinaabe leaders spoke to a large gathering of alumni at the reunion’s opening ceremonies to celebrate 50 years of camp life on the shores of Lake Waseosa. Old and new friends sat around the good old Wishing Well, soaking up the aura of that special place, shadowed by the overhanging boughs of a circle of massive spruce trees.
An unusual blend of circumstances led up to this occasion . . .
During the winter of 2020, a global pandemic raged across the planet. Communal activities ground to a halt for several years, including summer camps. Waseosa’s trees and wildlife benefited from two unexpected summers of relief. For the first time since Camp Huronda’s first summer camp in 1971, the forests, fields and waterways lay fallow for years and were given the opportunity to recover from human traffic.
The two-year delay offered the Huronda 50th organizing committee valuable time. We used that gift of time to share ideas and perspectives about the process of healing, learning from the past, and forging future pathways.
As the pandemic challenged us all, members of the Huronda 50th committee worked to stay physically and mentally well by trading ideas and re-organizing. Online, there arose some concern among generations of staff and campers, that special programs devoted to honouring the ways of the Anishinaabe people had been short-sighted and somewhat mismanaged during Huronda’s early years.
Sub-committees were formed to address the First Nations dilemma in the context of reconciliation. We discussed how to best honour the spirits of the land and people.
Camp Huronda reopened in the summer of 2022, welcoming back the next generation of campers and staff. Alumni of all ages gathered that September for the reunion. We were swept up in a wave of emotions, amazed again by the natural evolution and spirit of this beautiful Muskoka oasis.
That weekend in 2022 was magical. People from all over Turtle Island and beyond came together to celebrate friendships, our connections to the natural world, and a strong belief in the power of love.
The invited Indigenous guests shared their wisdom through an amazing variety of workshops. For example, on our nature walk around the big field, where I’d spent countless hours playing and exploring, I learned that the powdery bark of the birch tree can help to protect the skin from UV rays.
In his keynote address to the Huronda alumni at the Wishing Well, the Ojibway elder and keeper of traditions, Doug Pawis, dressed in his traditional regalia, including a beautiful headdress, spoke about the spirit of the camp – how the trees and wildlife had thrived over the years, fostered by generations caring and devoted peoples of Waseosa.
I remember feeling overcome with emotion when the chief presented a second headdress, to be returned to Camp Huronda as a ceremonial gesture of acceptance and healing. Tears of wonder and relief flowed around the circle. When he spoke of continuing our quest for further understanding, acceptance and sharing, he mentioned the sacred gift of tobacco.
One of the four sacred herbs of many indigenous cultures, tobacco is traditionally offered to make a connection to the spirit world. Having worked with Ojibway elders and families, I knew how important it was to include an offering of tobacco in traditional ceremonies like this one. We had just neglected to include it.
Earliet that summer, I had been talking with my brother, Pete, about tobacco, more specifically cigarettes, as we camped across Canada with his niece, Elana, and nephew, Jack. He had discussed cutting down or even quitting. Pete was returning to Ontario primarily for the funeral of our mother, which just happened to fall on the weekend following the camp reunion. As we entered Ontario along the north shore of Superior, he was rationing his pack of cigarettes. Perhaps one of the incentives for abandoning the habit was the death of our mother.
As we listened to the mention of sacred tobacco at the Wishing Well, I walked across the circle of listeners to where my brother sat. Like many in the audience, he was moved to tears by the wise words of the chief. He had what was left of his last two cigarettes in his hands. Tobacco. We had the same idea; a gift . . . Better late than never.
Doug Pawis smudging attendees at the reunion.