Where Have All My Horses Gone? - Part VII
VII. Tristen Durocher, in an act of heroism, had sparked an awakening in my heart.
I was home for harvest. The pandemic had brought my fifteen years as a touring musician to an immediate halt and I was re-investing in the family farm. The best insurance any farm kid has in unstable times. My parents had always welcomed myself or my siblings home at any point if financial assistance, the healing of a broken heart or general rest was needed. The fridge was full, rent was free and a tractor was waiting.
Listening to the intricacies of the combine’s machinery was meditative. I couldn’t handle the monotony in my youth but nearing my forties it provided a song that would lock me into the task. A slow steady intake of canola, an awareness of the thresh, an attunement to the auger. I could sit for hours, midmorning to midnight.
I was interrupted by an urge to stretch. Idling down, I disengaged and stepped out from the cab. Jumping from the last step to the field stubble I recognized a discovery I had spent a lifetime in search of.
Surrounding neighbours would collect artifacts. As a child I would hold arrowheads and other stone tools left by the original inhabiters of the land, only to hope that I would stumble across one of my own finding. We would ride horses, walk in the pastures, play in creeks beds, my head down scouring the ground. And here it was. A grooved maul. It oblong fabrication with a worn ring around its center, the head of a hammer-like tool. 150 years old? 1000 years old? 10,000 years old? I was overcome. The silence of my day in the field rewarded with this treasure at dusk.
I sat back in the cab holding it in my hands. Spellbound. My love of the land and a token to connect it all to. For as bad as I wanted to keep it, I knew I had to give it away.
That summer, Tristen Durocher, a Metis musician from Air Ronge, SK walked 635 km to the Legislature grounds in Regina, SK to raise awareness of the disproportionately high suicide rates among northern indigenous youth. He raised a teepee infront of the Legislature and began a hunger strike.
First proposing a bill in 2018, NDP MLA for Cumberland Doyle Vermette initiated attempts to have The Saskatchewan Party put preventative strategy in place to address the epidemic. With suicide being the leading cause of death among 10 to 49 year olds in northern Saskatchewan, the Saskatchewan Party unanimously voted down the proposal, not once but twice. An act exposing their partisan political gamery. Tristen rose to face their insolence.
He fell victim to the sheer arrogance from the worst in our province. Taunted by those empowered by the Saskatchewan Party’s decisions, eating fast food and agitating the camp. If the new leadership within the party had my support waning, this was the period which I recognized the damage I had contributed to.
Tristen Durocher, in an act of heroism, had sparked an awakening in my heart. The courage of one individual to compel a greater narrative on our province and contribute to the story of who we actually are. A people of community and compassion, an understanding of oneness, and a devotion to the collective. I sat with the grooved maul in my hands, having yet to engage the combine header, I could only think of Tristen.
I kept the artifact on my mantle and in August of last year I carried it down to Victoria Park as he was slated to perform the Regina Folk Festival. Unsure how the gift would be received I approached him as I stumbled through my admittance that I aligned myself with the governing party for years. I trusted my intuition and offered it as a gift of gratitude. He received it with a genuine acceptance of appreciation.
There are all those who creatively inspire me; my wife, Gordon Downie, Willie Nelson, Marty Stuart, RZA, Annie Dillard, Joseph Campbell, the list is continuous…
And then there was one that changed the game - Tristen Durocher.
Howdy Readers,
The Where Have All My Horses Gone? series has been a year long storyline for paid subscribers acting as an overview of the last ten years of my career and how it has all been tied together by one song. It felt both important and relevant to make this entry available to all subscribers in order to share the impact that Tristen Durocher’s actions in the summer of 2020 had on my voice and artistry. As I intend for the series to close in the coming entries I have a suspicion that it will pick up again down the line as the re-write of my song, in which the piece is named after, is about to take on a fresh stance.
I have announced the release of my new album, What’s Left of the Right, to take place in a series of stages. The 20 song double LP is currently being offered as a free gift to all those who opt in for a paid subscription between now and February 2. If you have the means to invest, all funds are going to release costs and the creation of content. First batch of mail-outs will happen the end of January prior to the vinyl release performance at Darke Hall in Regina, SK alongside Belle Plaine and Lachlan Neville. Performance tickets available here
Thanks Crew,
BB
Hey, Blake —> Excellent writing, as usual. Even with AI assistance, I can't write this well! I especially enjoyed . . .
• "The fridge was full, rent was free and a tractor was waiting."
• "I couldn’t handle the monotony in my youth but nearing my forties it provided a song that would lock me into the task."
• "the original inhibitors of the land"
Thank you for this story. I remember the walk and how ill received Tristin was.. my support waned as well.