Posted 1:54pm Updated 5:00am
(Mani-utenam) Uapishtan Vollant holds a small black stone between his fingers. It is a traditional stone that was given to him when he began his journey to healing.
“It means a lot to me, it’s my strength. I’m less scared when I have my rock with me,” admits the 49-year-old Innu.
Uapishtan Vollant is still “recovering”. He came here, to the Uapan Utshekatak center in Mani-utenam, to banish his demons: drugs, alcohol and gambling: “When I entered, I was far away,” admits the man who has been sober since January. “I’m clean,” he said quietly.
The Uapan Utshekatak center opened its doors to La Presse on a sunny but still chilly Saturday in late March.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
Entrance to the Uapan Utshekatak center, whose name means “the morning star”.
Intervener Josée Vollant, at our request, agreed to bring together some members of the Uashat mak Mani-utenam community to attend a healing session.
Ten of them form a large circle. They are between 13 and 68 years old. They stayed at the center for different reasons, but with a common goal: to get better. Together they want to deliver a message of hope.
Because there are also people who recover.
“I have forgiven”
La Presse reported on Friday that drug use, particularly cocaine derivatives, has been wreaking havoc since the pandemic in the Innu community, about ten miles east of Sept-Îles. The authorities are on their toes, and the Legault government promises to act soon.
“I’ve been sober for 600 days,” says Rocky St-Onge to loud applause from his comrades. The use of cocaine plunged him into hell. Family crisis, stay in a psychiatric ward, dark thoughts… The 37-year-old father has come a long way.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
Interventionist Josée Vollant (middle) and Rocky St-Onge (right)
“I wanted to die. We’re going to be talking about real business here… I wanted to take my own life. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to die, but I didn’t want to feel anything anymore,” he says confidently. His “harsh past” had an impact on those close to him. He knows it well.
Two of his children, Mayna and Charles St-Onge, 15 and 13, are part of the circle. They listen carefully as their father talks about his trip. Tears flow down Charles’ cheeks.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
Rocky St-Onge and his children Charles and Mayna
“I’ve seen them, my children,” Rocky continues. His throat tightens, then he starts again.
[Mes enfants] didn’t sleep well, school didn’t go well. They’ve been sleeping well since I’ve recovered. I have fewer calls from school.
Rocky St Onge
“I’ve forgiven,” Charles replies, his voice shaking. Today he and his sister are involved in the Uapan Utshekatak center, which offers stays for young people aged 14 to 17.
“When I’m the caregiver, I feel good. It’s good for me to see people healing,” says the boy with red eyes.
Uapan Utshekatak center is well established in Mani-utenam. From the outside, the little faded blue house looks like nothing. But inside, according to the band, great things are happening. “When you leave here, you carry a light,” assures Rocky St-Onge.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
Uapan Utshekatak center is well established in Mani-utenam.
“You have to carry that light that makes the world want to come here [pour se guérir] “, he adds.
The popularity of the four-day session is undeniable. “I don’t even have time to post [la disponibilité], it fills up quickly,” explains Ms. Vollant. Word of mouth in the community of around 4,500 souls is also having an effect.
victories, setbacks
This is not Uapishtan Vollant’s first therapy. It’s been two years since he got rid of his alcohol addiction, but it’s harder with drugs. Last year he relapsed. “It’s a never-ending struggle. Every day,” says this former cocaine user, stroking his traditional rock.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
Uapishtan Vollant and his wife (to his left)
[Les revendeurs], They are everywhere. They are cousins, friends. It’s too easy to get them. I would be glad there aren’t any more. Drugs are a scourge here.
Uapishtan Vollant
“You really have to want to get out,” he continues.
The problem is that interview participants speak of “community healing”.
The Takuaikan Uashat mak Mani-utenam Innu Council claims to have improved the range of community services in recent years. The Pakatan Symposium on Suicide Prevention, Drug Addiction, Mental Health and Cultural Identity begins this week.
Uauitshitun social services on Friday reported a meteoric rise in service requests since the pandemic. According to coordinator Alice Guimond, it is also a signal that the community is asking for help.
believe in the future
Karine Régis sits next to Ms. Vollant and is one of the last to speak. “I am a child of boarding school survivors. My parents were there, I grew up in the world of alcohol, violence and drug addiction,” she says.
PHOTO EDOUARD PLANTE-FRÉCHETTE, THE PRESS
Karine Regis
“I’ve never had a drug problem,” says the 50-year-old. However, she fought for her life. A pain she could calm down in the middle. Today she clings to the future.
“I refuse to see my community as non-natives see us, as vulnerable people, alcoholics, drug addicts… I come from a thriving community,” she said with conviction. “Seeing Charles and Mayna gives me hope. »
“I believe in my community, I believe in recovery. »
Uapan Utshekatak means “morning star”. Which we can still see at dawn today, explains Josée Vollant.
That afternoon, in the little blue house, she still shone in the eyes of these survivors.