Fall of 1964
One of the last surviving pictures of my dad and dear old mom. I was born in 66 so at least I knew they didn’t “have” to get married. but unfortunately, that is all I knew about them as they were both tragically killed by roaming Tutsi, tribes when they immigrated to Canada.
Young and idealistic, or so I am told, they roamed the prairies in search of that great adventure, the great Canadian dream. I was told that Dad, was an aspiring dancer and actor whereas my mom was a talented seamstress and songstress. Happy, carefree, the epitome of the sixties. But then came the rain.
Trudeau-mania began to make it’s rounds. The Tutsi were clamoring over the hockey nets to cross our borders. A great cry went up throughout the civilized world when Ronald Reagan spoke these immortal words,
“Mr. Trudeau, tear down these nets”
And in the summer of 1968, the hockey nets came come and the Tutsi had arrived.
With sticks and cups of hot coffee, Saskatchewanders fought. They fought in the hills, in the sloughs. They fought the Tutsi in the cities and the towns, but it was to no avail, they had been beaten. I was told my parents died making one last stand protecting the Manitou Beach’s Carlsbad Hotel. The hotel is gone now and so is all memory of that battle, long ago.
The Tutsi were finally given plane tickets back to Rwanda and life in Saskatchewan pretty well returned to normal. Those that survived were told by government authorities never to speak of the battle with anyone from the outside world. To this day, if you ask, it never happened. There are, however, people like me that have escaped Saskatchewan, to start a new life with new identity and we remember. We will not let those heroes voices and lives be silent.