In September 2010, Jordan Titus Lawrence Wabasse flew to Thunder Bay and was enrolled at the Matawa Learning Center, a brand new school housed in a two-story brown building that also houses the Matawa Tribal Council. The school has no green spaces or playing fields, no running track or anything else to give it a high school look. It’s an outdated low-rise building next to a main thoroughfare and car park.
The Matawa Tribal Council represents the nine Northern Cree and Ojibwe First Nations, including the Webequie, a Jordan group. The council chose this name because in both Ojibwa and Cree, the word “matawa” means a place where rivers converge. The nine Matawa communities share a common border in the north – all are connected by major river systems. It is not uncommon for indigenous tribal councils to come together and form an alliance to provide a variety of services to those who have had to go to the city. They can help you learn a trade, find accommodation or even get an education.
Matawa runs primary schools for children of all nine First Nations. She is aware of her shortcomings and talks about them openly. In a 2007 report, he notes that despite significant improvements over the last ten years, Matawa’s education system is “substandard” compared to other cities and falls short of provincial standards. The system struggles with poor student achievement and “significant differences in grades from provincial standards.” There is a lack of classrooms, teaching aids and specialized teachers who could educate children with special cognitive or physical needs.
Only three hundred students were enrolled in the Matawa Learning Center. It offers an alternative education program whereby children receive an individualized learning plan – a student will not be admitted to the school unless he/she proves that he/she is responsible and can cope with the programme. Jordan had all the necessary qualities. He begged his mother, Bernice, to let him go to Thunder Bay and continue his studies. He studied well, excelled in English and math.
Bernice hesitated. She wanted her son to stay in Webequia and go to high school there. She knew it wasn’t the best – it was built from shipping containers and the activities were limited – but Thunder Bay was so far away and she couldn’t go with him, she had to stay with his younger siblings.
Jordan had big dreams. He really wanted to play hockey in a real league and be on the Maple Leafs or another NHL team. He knew that if he stayed in Webequia he would never get the chance. There was not even a roofed hall in the city. Only an outdoor ice rink was built, which was not always possible to use, even in winter. There were also no kids to form a decent league. Bernice knew what she had to do – send her son to the city, where he could get a high school education and start playing in the real league. She had to let him go. She couldn’t stop him from growing. Every mother wants the best for her child. She was torn, but she had to smile, reassure him, and ignore the dull pain and fear that was building up inside her.
In Thunder Bay, Jordan moved in with his distant cousin Clifford Wabass and his wife Jessica in their two-story home on an arched street near the Fort William airport. Like all caregivers, they received five hundred dollars a month to cover his living expenses, such as shelter, snacks, and dinner. They were under no obligation to watch him at night, eat meals with him, help with his homework, or drive him to extracurricular activities. Clifford’s house was small, so Jordan shared a room with another student, Shane Troutlak. Clifford immediately liked Jordan, a quiet, polite, introverted kid. He was six foot six and weighed about ninety kilograms, so he could easily be mistaken for a grown man. But he wasn’t a man, he was a fifteen-year-old boy who hadn’t grown into his body yet.
Jordan and Shane had to use public transportation to get to school. The stop was a few steps from the house on Mary Street. On Monday, February 7, 2011, Clifford saw Jordan leave for school at 8:20.
As usual.
It was cold. The northern chill pierced the bones, the temperature ranging from minus seventeen degrees Celsius during the day to minus thirty-two at night. Like most teenagers, Jordan didn’t dress for the weather. He was wearing a purple Hurley hoodie, a dark blue denim lined jacket, a white “Blink If You Want Me” T-shirt and shiny black tracksuit bottoms. Add white Adidas running shoes and a Maple Leafs cap.
On the bus that morning he met a friend, Desmond Jacob, a friend from Webequie. Shane had seen him in the gym in Matawa that afternoon. There were about half a dozen Webequie kids at school at any time. Many of them were in the city for the first time – they saw the traffic lights and the mall for the first time. Thunder Bay was nothing like home.
Webequie is high in the Hudson Lowlands, accessible only by air or, in winter, by frozen rivers. From the air, the lowlands look like giant green tiger stripes laid across the landscape. The pea-colored bog lies on the banks of long, narrow rivers. The ground is brown and muddy. Beneath it lie vast untapped resources: from diamonds and nickel to copper and chromite, the material used to make stainless steel appliances. This area is called the Ring of Fire, a name given to it by one of the ore explorers who adored Johnny Cash.
The people of Webequie try to live traditionally. They hunt, fish, skin animals, use these skins to make clothes or as the basis for the production of beautifully decorated gloves, moccasins and other things. Jordan had grown up with the traditions of his tribe and felt at home in the bush. When the seasons changed and it was hunting time, he helped his family a lot to fill the freezer with fish and meat and other supplies for the winter. He was responsible. If he knew that someone was counting on his help, he helped. So when he didn’t show up for dinner that night and didn’t call to say he was going to be late, Jessica got a little concerned. He had hockey practice that night. He always came home to eat something beforehand. It started at 8.45pm. He was the goaltender for the Current River Comets, a Midget B-level team. Since he had not played in any children’s league before, this can be considered a remarkable success testifying to his burgeoning talent. Coaches said he should apply for AA, but he missed the draft date. They encouraged him to keep playing. He’ll be successful in a year.
He must have intended to be back late in the evening because he had promised his girlfriend, Myga O’Keese, that he would call her at ten. Myda came from the Eabametoong (Fort Hope) First Nation living almost 350 kilometers north of Thunder Bay. She attended Hammarskjold High School and lived with her aunt. Jordan had met her a few years earlier at a tribal meeting in Webequia. They became inseparable: they saw each other after school, Jordan often visited her aunt. The girl always came to his games. In January, however, her aunt wanted to return home. The girl had to go with her. She would have no one to stay with in Thunder Bay. They had been dating for two years and Jordan missed her dearly. They planned for him to visit her in Fort Hope during the March break.
Just after midnight, Myda called Jordan’s house. The phone rang and rang, but no one answered. The only way to contact Jordan was by landline or computer. A month earlier, the boy had lost his cell phone.
Jessica didn’t sleep until two in the morning. She wondered where her ward was.
Jordan was last seen alive when he got off a blue and white Thunder Bay Transit bus not more than a block from where he lived.
Seven fallen feathers. Racism, death and brutal truths about Canada mat. press
The book was published on February 15, 2023 by Wydawnictwo Marginesy, translated by Emilia SkowroĊska.
Source: Gazeta
Bruce is a talented author and journalist with a passion for entertainment . He currently works as a writer at the 247 News Agency, where he has established himself as a respected voice in the industry.
