The Trial of Louis Riel

Last night I saw the play “The Trial of Louis Riel”. It was a wonderful performance and the actors were marvelous – including the locals who had small parts. My dad raised us on stories of Louis Riel and Gabriel Dumont. We grew up learning about Batoche. Every summer, one of our family day trips would be to go to Batoche, visit the still-visible trenches, the Museum, the old church with the bullet holes in it and hear again the stories that Dad would tell us about the uprising. His version was slightly (or not so slightly) tinted with dislike of the soldiers who came from Eastern Canada to fight Riel and his men. Dad was not Métis, he was French, however there was, and still is, a strong bond between the French and the Métis regarding Louis Riel. He was held in high regard by both the French and the Metis. To the French, he was a symbol of the battle against perceived English oppression. He was a man who had done much for western Canadians but was badly mistreated by eastern Canada. He eventually died at the hands of a government which was unpopular with French and Métis westerners. Their language, their religion and customs were ridiculed, even at Louis Riel’s trial. These were all things that my father still felt very strongly about and they formed a huge part of his own identity. The stories of the Métis, of Riel, of Dumont are emotional for me because of my Dad. The emotions come not only because of the injustices but because of the connection with Dad through these stories. Last night, watching the play, I thought of him and felt that connection. I hope Dad knows we all still remember his stories and we still all feel his passion for that part of history. I hope he knows that, as often as I can, I still go to Batoche to walk where Louis Riel walked, and where we walked with our Dad, retracing the steps of Riel. Just as Dad seemed to hear the voices of Riel and Dumont when he was at Batoche, when I am there I can hear Dad telling us their stories. Carrying a piece of your parents with you by remembering their stories. . . it’s a good thing.