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Northern Light: Power, Land, and the Memory of Water
"Places do not belong to us. We belong to them."
The child of South Asian migrants, Kazim Ali was born in London, lived as a child in the cities and small towns of Manitoba, and made a life in the United States. As a man passing through disparate homes, he has never felt he belonged to a place. And yet, one day, the celebrated poet and essayist finds himself thinking of the boreal forests and lush waterways of Jenpeg, a community thrown up around the building of a hydroelectric dam on the Nelson River, where he once lived for several years as a child. Does the town still exist, he wonders? Is the dam still operational?
When Ali goes searching, however, he finds not news of Jenpeg, but of the local Pimicikamak community. Facing environmental destruction and broken promises from the Canadian government, they have evicted Manitoba's electric utility from the dam on Cross Lake. In a place where water is an integral part of social and cultural life, the community demands accountability for the harm that the utility has caused.
Troubled, Ali returns north, looking to understand his place in this story and eager to listen. Over the course of a week, he participates in community life, speaks with Elders and community members, and learns about the politics of the dam from Chief Cathy Merrick. He drinks tea with activists, eats corned beef hash with the Chief, and learns about the history of the dam, built on land that was never ceded, and Jenpeg, a town that now exists mostly in his memory. In building relationships with his former neighbors, Ali explores questions of land and power―and in remembering a lost connection to this place, finally finds a home he might belong to.
The child of South Asian migrants, Kazim Ali was born in London, lived as a child in the cities and small towns of Manitoba, and made a life in the United States. As a man passing through disparate homes, he has never felt he belonged to a place. And yet, one day, the celebrated poet and essayist finds himself thinking of the boreal forests and lush waterways of Jenpeg, a community thrown up around the building of a hydroelectric dam on the Nelson River, where he once lived for several years as a child. Does the town still exist, he wonders? Is the dam still operational?
When Ali goes searching, however, he finds not news of Jenpeg, but of the local Pimicikamak community. Facing environmental destruction and broken promises from the Canadian government, they have evicted Manitoba's electric utility from the dam on Cross Lake. In a place where water is an integral part of social and cultural life, the community demands accountability for the harm that the utility has caused.
Troubled, Ali returns north, looking to understand his place in this story and eager to listen. Over the course of a week, he participates in community life, speaks with Elders and community members, and learns about the politics of the dam from Chief Cathy Merrick. He drinks tea with activists, eats corned beef hash with the Chief, and learns about the history of the dam, built on land that was never ceded, and Jenpeg, a town that now exists mostly in his memory. In building relationships with his former neighbors, Ali explores questions of land and power―and in remembering a lost connection to this place, finally finds a home he might belong to.
200 pages, Hardcover
First published March 9, 2021
About the author
Kazim Ali
61 books98 followersKazim Ali was born in the United Kingdom and has lived transnationally in the United States, Canada, India, France, and the Middle East. His books encompass multiple genres, includingthe volumes of poetry Inquisition, Sky Ward, winner of the Ohioana Book Award in Poetry; The Far Mosque, winner of Alice James Books’ New England/New York Award; The Fortieth Day; All One’s Blue; and the cross-genre texts Bright Felon and Wind Instrument. His novels include the recently published The Secret Room: A String Quartet and among his books of essays are the hybrid memoir Silver Road: Essays, Maps & Calligraphies and Fasting for Ramadan: Notes from a Spiritual Practice. He is also an accomplished translator (of Marguerite Duras, Sohrab Sepehri, Ananda Devi, Mahmoud Chokrollahi and others) and an editor of several anthologies and books of criticism. After a career in public policy and organizing, Ali taught at various colleges and universities, including Oberlin College, Davidson College, St. Mary's College of California, and Naropa University. He is currently a Professor of Literature at the University of California, San Diego. His newest books are a volume of three long poems entitled The Voice of Sheila Chandra and a memoir of his Canadian childhood, Northern Light.
Author photo by Tanya Rosen-Jones from Kazim Ali's press kit.
Author photo by Tanya Rosen-Jones from Kazim Ali's press kit.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 67 reviews
March 11, 2021
This is phenomenal… A must read title. Short, sweet and lyrical. A deeply thought contemplation on the meaning of home, our place in the world, our responsibility to ourselves and to others, to the environment and the larger world we live in… and on the role of, and need for, generosity in everything we do in life.
This is a damning condemnation of the brutality which has been perpetrated against our aboriginal/indigenous communities… juxtaposed against the generosity - the grace - of those same communities as they invite us into their communities - into their shared spaces - and all they ask of us is that we listen, and that we respect. If only we all did that all of the time… listen and respect. So simple. So why is it so difficult?
The author skillfully - and poetically - weaves his own experiences as a young immigrant child - transplanted from India to Manitoba - with those of the Palestinians, of Indian farmers, and, of course, the people of Pimicikamak. (He even invokes Vandana Shiva, one of my heroines!!)
But it is also hopeful… Quoting Harold Johnson (p 134): “The story of Canada can be rewritten. It is a very powerful story, and many people have gone to war and died because of that story, but is is a story that can change all the same.”
And then there is the extensive final section on ‘Suggestions for Further Reading and Viewing’... which I am proud to say I have read and/or watched many already. I strongly encourage everyone to look closely at this inventory and start working your way through those titles as well.
There are a lot of similarities with David Robertson’s Black Water (from last year) which I also thoroughly loved. If you've not read it... add it to you TBR pile/list.
With heartfelt gratitude to the publisher and Edelweiss for making an early digital review copy of this available for me to read.
This is a damning condemnation of the brutality which has been perpetrated against our aboriginal/indigenous communities… juxtaposed against the generosity - the grace - of those same communities as they invite us into their communities - into their shared spaces - and all they ask of us is that we listen, and that we respect. If only we all did that all of the time… listen and respect. So simple. So why is it so difficult?
The author skillfully - and poetically - weaves his own experiences as a young immigrant child - transplanted from India to Manitoba - with those of the Palestinians, of Indian farmers, and, of course, the people of Pimicikamak. (He even invokes Vandana Shiva, one of my heroines!!)
But it is also hopeful… Quoting Harold Johnson (p 134): “The story of Canada can be rewritten. It is a very powerful story, and many people have gone to war and died because of that story, but is is a story that can change all the same.”
And then there is the extensive final section on ‘Suggestions for Further Reading and Viewing’... which I am proud to say I have read and/or watched many already. I strongly encourage everyone to look closely at this inventory and start working your way through those titles as well.
There are a lot of similarities with David Robertson’s Black Water (from last year) which I also thoroughly loved. If you've not read it... add it to you TBR pile/list.
With heartfelt gratitude to the publisher and Edelweiss for making an early digital review copy of this available for me to read.
July 20, 2021
A pretty powerful story with disappointing writing. I often found myself skipping over the frequent dry details. I wish Ali brought some of his poetry into the prose and really found a voice as a poet-journalist-memoirist, or whatever you call this genre of autobiographical journalism.
The autobiography and journalism here clashed or never quite found alignment. There was not a clear enough connection between the two, aside from a specific place. The deep research into Pimicikamak’s history and socio-political issues leaves the author’s own search for “home” feeling less relevant or a tad like navelgazing.
The book begins by asking what it means to belong to a place as a South Asian immigrant and queer person but then becomes an investigation of an indigenous/aboriginal community with deep ties to land. The end—in which Ali discovers that he belongs to that same land because of his memories and acceptance by the Pimicikamak community—feels almost like a cop out. He returned to San Diego and wrote this book, perhaps as an offering to or way of caring for a place he is both always and no longer a part of. But the initial question feels unanswered.
What does place mean to the rootless, the immigrant, the wandering academic or artist or ethnographer, the queer, the displaced? What is our collective and individual responsibility to the land that shapes us, to the long history before us, to the people we harm in order to keep the lights on? What does that responsibility or care look like? The story itself could have presented a more nuanced, complex idea of belonging and responsibility. For me, seeing and listening and pointing-to are not enough.
The autobiography and journalism here clashed or never quite found alignment. There was not a clear enough connection between the two, aside from a specific place. The deep research into Pimicikamak’s history and socio-political issues leaves the author’s own search for “home” feeling less relevant or a tad like navelgazing.
The book begins by asking what it means to belong to a place as a South Asian immigrant and queer person but then becomes an investigation of an indigenous/aboriginal community with deep ties to land. The end—in which Ali discovers that he belongs to that same land because of his memories and acceptance by the Pimicikamak community—feels almost like a cop out. He returned to San Diego and wrote this book, perhaps as an offering to or way of caring for a place he is both always and no longer a part of. But the initial question feels unanswered.
What does place mean to the rootless, the immigrant, the wandering academic or artist or ethnographer, the queer, the displaced? What is our collective and individual responsibility to the land that shapes us, to the long history before us, to the people we harm in order to keep the lights on? What does that responsibility or care look like? The story itself could have presented a more nuanced, complex idea of belonging and responsibility. For me, seeing and listening and pointing-to are not enough.
March 6, 2021
Folks in Minnesota should read this since we’re taking electricity from Manitoba Hydro.
October 19, 2021
I'm 68% through the audiobook and not sure if I'll continue. Maybe I'm just really not a fan of narrative non-fiction. The least important problem I had was that I don't think the author has much practice in narrating audiobooks. The too casual tone and the constant f*cking stopping to swallow and breathe into the mic omg. So bad! It is beautifully written but, again, far too casual for a topic of such weight. I paused it to write this review when the author goes to the indigenous school and talks to a young boy there. When he says he wants to know if the boy knew any of the young people who committed s*icide there but couldn't find the right words to ask?? Just don't fkn ask??! So so inappropriate. The constant fixation on wanting to know the details of the s*icide epidemic within the community (definitely not for research because the book is pretty anecdotal) made me feel very uneasy, that it was trauma porn for him - maybe to ease the weight of his own feelings of solitude and displacement?? - still inappropriate imo. To his credit he's done better than anyone else from Jenpeg, specifically white people who never bothered to visit or even acknowledge complicity. I've looked through a bunch of indigenous book reviewers on Instagram (found thru @anishinaabekwereads) but couldn't spot any reviews by indigenous, Aboriginal and/or, specifically, Pimicikamak people on this book. Definitely going straight to the source for more information and stories, and would recommend that for others who may be thinking of buying or lending this book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 7, 2023
4.5 stars
Beautiful memoir of the experience of one person returning to the First Nations community they grew on, after realising his dad was building the hydro plant that was hugely detrimental to their community. The author looks to define ‘home’ during the process.
“Places don’t belong to us. We belong to them”
Beautiful memoir of the experience of one person returning to the First Nations community they grew on, after realising his dad was building the hydro plant that was hugely detrimental to their community. The author looks to define ‘home’ during the process.
“Places don’t belong to us. We belong to them”
July 17, 2021
Book Club....
So being a Canadian that has so much information and news reports about the First Nations people, it is a completely different perspective than what we are used to hearing in the media. Where a lot of people are desensitized to the reports of past hardships, this reminds us that there are real problems that effect the First Nations people that can be rectified to actaully improve the quality of life of people alive right now... It was a very refreshing read.
As for the authors telling of the story, I felt there were some places I wanted more. More information, more history... just more I guess - it's like almost getting to the top of the roller coaster over and over again.
All in all though, I really enjoyed it.
So being a Canadian that has so much information and news reports about the First Nations people, it is a completely different perspective than what we are used to hearing in the media. Where a lot of people are desensitized to the reports of past hardships, this reminds us that there are real problems that effect the First Nations people that can be rectified to actaully improve the quality of life of people alive right now... It was a very refreshing read.
As for the authors telling of the story, I felt there were some places I wanted more. More information, more history... just more I guess - it's like almost getting to the top of the roller coaster over and over again.
All in all though, I really enjoyed it.
May 7, 2021
If you are interested in the effects of technology on environment, this is the book for you. It revisits the site of a dam project in northern Canada and the environmental issues that arose directly from the presence of the dam. Including loss of fish, hunting and trapping due to rising water and barriers in and out of Cross Lake.
There is a short documentary about the area called "The Sound of Thunder" is on TNC. It mainly talks about their baseball team and the high rate of suicide on the reserve for young people. Take a look at it.
There is a short documentary about the area called "The Sound of Thunder" is on TNC. It mainly talks about their baseball team and the high rate of suicide on the reserve for young people. Take a look at it.
September 3, 2021
Writer Kazim Ali has travelled the world, but one day found himself wondering what has happened to his childhood home in northern Canada, growing up by the power generation dam of Jenpeg. He soon discovers that behind the scenes of his childhood, the dam was built on land that were ceded unfairly from the Pimicikamak Cree people, who also benefited the least from the dam's construction and operation. Though faded in most people's minds, not too long ago (think the 60s, 70s) Canada was a stage for exploitations and inhumane treatment of Indigenous people, as well as the site of a major operation to erase them of their culture. This injustice still perpetuates in some form today, notwithstanding the long-term effects those operations has inflicted on the individual and societal levels. In his book, Kazim brings to the reader the daily life of the Cree today, the challenges they face in relearning and reviving their cultures and traditions, and despite increased awareness the Cree still faces new attempts to strip them of their land for further exploitation. Also, as one of many migrants in this increasingly interconnected world, he concluded that "land does not belong to people, but people belongs to the land", and made peace with his past.
January 8, 2024
Really interesting and worthwhile thoughts on home, memory, colonization and resistance against it, etc. Unfortunately it spends a lot of time on facts and figures and stories that are well covered in much more depth in other histories of Native North America. I wanted to see either more of his poetic voice or a really in depth view of any of these issues as they're specific to Cross Lake / Jenpeg. None of this was *bad*, it was just native history 101 and not the things that made me want to pick up this particular book.
His insights on how colonization and the project of building "Canada" played out in his own family, and how Cross Lake resonated with his experiences in Palestine, were especially interesting and I wish they'd had more space in the narrative. The kindness and openness of the community, and the hard work it's doing to preserve and empower itself, really shone through as well.
His insights on how colonization and the project of building "Canada" played out in his own family, and how Cross Lake resonated with his experiences in Palestine, were especially interesting and I wish they'd had more space in the narrative. The kindness and openness of the community, and the hard work it's doing to preserve and empower itself, really shone through as well.
Read
September 5, 2021Keep reading. Keep learning. Keep my mind and heart open. Keep looking for openings to keep talking. Keep trying to redress. I love my country but there are terrible consequences for the decisions that are made. Keep aware.
April 3, 2021
Beautifully written, a perfect combination of memoir and reportage. An enriching book because I learned both about the specifics of the Canadian government's treatment of the indigenous people (nationally and locally), but I also learned about Kazim through his interactions and openness. I've had the pleasure of hearing Kazim read his work via Zoom (thanks to The Book Catapult here in San Diego), and I could hear his voice as I read this book, bringing the reader into the personal level of the larger situation.
February 16, 2022
I picked it up because this was the only thing I could find that analyzes the relationship between migrants and Native Americans. Aren’t migrants also complicit in the Empire’s project?
This book explores this question and other themes- like what it is to belong and to be ‘from’ somewhere, while also an immigrant, queer writer.
Ali mentions how as migrants his family entered Canada and got Canadian passports like they were entitled to them, but didn’t realize that the very existence of Canada is possible because of the oppression of the indigenous population.
I love Kazim Ali’s awareness of his position in the community at Cross Lake throughout the book. This is not exactly an ethnography, but warmer and lyrical. The information about Canadian brutality and historical events unfolds slowly to give a clear picture of what’s happening in areas where provincial governments are actively oppressing the native residents.
Near the end, the line, “Places do not belong to us. We belong to them.”(167) is such a gem- that encompasses all we owe to the lands we live on, and how to make sense of where we ‘belong.’
This book explores this question and other themes- like what it is to belong and to be ‘from’ somewhere, while also an immigrant, queer writer.
Ali mentions how as migrants his family entered Canada and got Canadian passports like they were entitled to them, but didn’t realize that the very existence of Canada is possible because of the oppression of the indigenous population.
I love Kazim Ali’s awareness of his position in the community at Cross Lake throughout the book. This is not exactly an ethnography, but warmer and lyrical. The information about Canadian brutality and historical events unfolds slowly to give a clear picture of what’s happening in areas where provincial governments are actively oppressing the native residents.
Near the end, the line, “Places do not belong to us. We belong to them.”(167) is such a gem- that encompasses all we owe to the lands we live on, and how to make sense of where we ‘belong.’
October 5, 2021
It sounded very interesting. An immigrant to the United States who has never quite felt at home despite living in various places around the world and ends up writing about the Pimicikamak community and their battles with the Canadian government. Ali speaks to activists, regular people, Pimicikamak Elders and more to learn about them and about himself.
Honestly, I had no idea what this book wanted to be. A memoir? A discussion about the struggles and work of the Pimicikamak people? A social treatise? A book about immigration? I really don't know.
In retrospect, it's a little uncomfortable--although certainly there are shared interests, struggles, etc. ultimately is a visitor who came and told their stories and then left. And it's also not really clear exactly what story and whose story he's trying to tell. His? Theirs? The land's? Some combination?
It could be very well that this wasn't a book for me, that I wasn't the audience, that I really needed more knowledge about the issues facing the Pimicikamak community, etc. But overall I thought this book was skippable.
Borrowed from the library and that was best for me. Probably of interest to those who have closer ties or better knowledge.
Honestly, I had no idea what this book wanted to be. A memoir? A discussion about the struggles and work of the Pimicikamak people? A social treatise? A book about immigration? I really don't know.
In retrospect, it's a little uncomfortable--although certainly there are shared interests, struggles, etc. ultimately is a visitor who came and told their stories and then left. And it's also not really clear exactly what story and whose story he's trying to tell. His? Theirs? The land's? Some combination?
It could be very well that this wasn't a book for me, that I wasn't the audience, that I really needed more knowledge about the issues facing the Pimicikamak community, etc. But overall I thought this book was skippable.
Borrowed from the library and that was best for me. Probably of interest to those who have closer ties or better knowledge.
January 18, 2022
Another beautiful book from Milkweed Editions, a non-profit publisher that finds reading gems for us. Kazim Ali recounts his trip to the far north in Manitoba to visit the area where he spent his formative years when his father was an engineer working on the new Manitoba Hydro project that dammed rivers to provide abundant power to southern Manitoba and far north Minnesota, and in the process (still ongoing) negatively affecting the land, water, wildlife and people of the area. The town JenPeg where his family lived in temporary housing is gone but there is still an active but not thriving Indigenous population in nearby Cross Lake. I read this book a few weeks after finishing Canoeing with the Cree by Eric Sevareid (published in 1935) in which he tells the story of his canoe trip from Minneapolis to Hudson Bay, traveling through the very same area that Ali experienced 95 years later. Very different perspectives.
Read
February 13, 2022I suspect this book will stay with me for a long time. It's a thoughtful and empathetic meditation on home, self-identity during times of major community changes, cross-cultural connections and conflicts, and the role of the environment on faith, the economy, and on the people, species, and communities that depend on it for survival. The individuals introduced from the Pimicikamak Cree Nation made a huge impression on me. Excellent, short read.
April 1, 2022
If you are wondering whether you should or should not read this book, I would encourage you to do it. I have read it in one day as I really wanted to see how it will end.
The book starts with Kazim Ali thinking about where he belongs, what place he can call home considering that he was born in London, his parents were from India and Pakistan, and then they moved to Canada, and then to the US. He feels lost so he realizes that there is one place he can call home and he has not visited it in a long while.
The book is about feeling lost, looking for answers, colonialism and its results, the history of Indigenous people in Canada, and environmental consequences following industrialization. It is very well written and showed me a part of history I was not familiar with. Considering that I love history and was born in a country where colonialism was not widely discussed in history books and lessons, I'm glad I read this book. It is the first book about the Indigenous population in Canada I have read and this will definitely be the reason why I will do more research on the topic from now on.
Thank you to Milkweed Editions for sending me a printed copy of the book after I entered the giveaway. I am glad got introduced to this author and book.
Some of the phrases hit home so much that I highlighted about 20% of the book. Here is the list of the ones I loved the most:
As far as I remember no one in my family has ever talked about this. Maybe we do not know. Our history is scattered across continents.
Indigenous means we have some rights over the land, but it is beyond that. We are connected to the land, we are a part of it, but it does not belong to anyone.
I've always had a hard time answering the question "Where are you from?" The easiest answer - the one I've fallen back on as a convenience, though I had always supposed it to be as true as an answer to any - is that I am "from" nowhere.
.. to London, where my older sister and I were born; after a few years there and in a brief return to Vellore, my family migrated to Canada in the early 1970s when Pierre and the Canadian government were creating policies to encourage immigration
Perhaps, I was always a wonderer. no house claimed me. I could wake up in one, eat in another, and bed down in a yet third.
so what does it mean to be "from" a place? what rights does this give you? for what status does a place of origin qualify a person?
the residential schools also carried out extreme medical testing and nutritional experiments on students. ... even after the 1947 judgment against Nazi medical experimentation, Canadian physicians were experimenting with Indigenous children, withholding riboflavin, thiamin, and other essential nutrients to study the impact of malnutrition, even while the children sickened and died, and in some experiments intentinally starving children to death to monitor the progress of the effects of starvation.
the art on the walls here, by Indigenous artists, depicts the trees and lakes I remember so well, and also the mountains of the west... nearly everyone is waiting is an Indigenous person, and they are speaking to each other in their own language. no one is speaking English except when they go up to the ticket counter. I realize that the airline, which does not have an Indigenous-themed atmosphere here in the middle of Winnipeg, a border zone between this place called "Canada" and the communities they will fly us to.
in the airport-terminal bathroom, there is a bin for biomedical waste, filled about six inches deep with discarded needles, I am assuming for insulin. besides the historical health challenges posed to Indigenous communities by disease and substance abuse, I've learned that because of the relatively recent and rapid changes in the traditional diets of Indigenous Peoples, nearly 30% of adults in Cross Lake suffer from diabetes, compared with less than five percent of the general population of Manitoba; children as young as seven years old are being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, the adult-onset variety of the disease.
"yeah" he rumbles "that is what people are shifting to now. I say Aboriginal because that is what we are. we have been here longer than any history can remember. before there was writing before anyone knows. Indigenous means we have some rights over the land, but it's beyond that. we're connected to the land, we're part of it, but it does not belong to anyone.
...flooding in Indigenous communities because of dams is all too common. British Columbia's WAC Bennet Dam (1968) flooded out five First Nations Communities, which were all forced to relocate. although BC Hydro settled multi-million dollar suits with the communities, this was largely seen as a compromise in order to gain support for the newly proposed dam on the same river.
...and now, our relationship with the water is unfriendly.
- and the cemeteries? I've heard some of them were flooded too.
- of yeah, - he says - there is an old one at Ross Island that keeps getting flooded out. you're walking along and there you see - a stack of femurs, a rib bone, a skull shining among the rocks.
Jenpeg - the Jenpeg I knew - was built as a temporary town in the forest. it was built to support the building of a dam. it was never going to be there when I went back. it was never meant to be more than it was. it never belonged to us and there was nothing there to be found.
the there real story, I realize, the real reason I came, is in Cross Lake. not in Manitoba, not in Canada. right here. in Pimicikamak.
Places do not belong to us. We belong to them.
The book starts with Kazim Ali thinking about where he belongs, what place he can call home considering that he was born in London, his parents were from India and Pakistan, and then they moved to Canada, and then to the US. He feels lost so he realizes that there is one place he can call home and he has not visited it in a long while.
The book is about feeling lost, looking for answers, colonialism and its results, the history of Indigenous people in Canada, and environmental consequences following industrialization. It is very well written and showed me a part of history I was not familiar with. Considering that I love history and was born in a country where colonialism was not widely discussed in history books and lessons, I'm glad I read this book. It is the first book about the Indigenous population in Canada I have read and this will definitely be the reason why I will do more research on the topic from now on.
Thank you to Milkweed Editions for sending me a printed copy of the book after I entered the giveaway. I am glad got introduced to this author and book.
Some of the phrases hit home so much that I highlighted about 20% of the book. Here is the list of the ones I loved the most:
As far as I remember no one in my family has ever talked about this. Maybe we do not know. Our history is scattered across continents.
Indigenous means we have some rights over the land, but it is beyond that. We are connected to the land, we are a part of it, but it does not belong to anyone.
I've always had a hard time answering the question "Where are you from?" The easiest answer - the one I've fallen back on as a convenience, though I had always supposed it to be as true as an answer to any - is that I am "from" nowhere.
.. to London, where my older sister and I were born; after a few years there and in a brief return to Vellore, my family migrated to Canada in the early 1970s when Pierre and the Canadian government were creating policies to encourage immigration
Perhaps, I was always a wonderer. no house claimed me. I could wake up in one, eat in another, and bed down in a yet third.
so what does it mean to be "from" a place? what rights does this give you? for what status does a place of origin qualify a person?
the residential schools also carried out extreme medical testing and nutritional experiments on students. ... even after the 1947 judgment against Nazi medical experimentation, Canadian physicians were experimenting with Indigenous children, withholding riboflavin, thiamin, and other essential nutrients to study the impact of malnutrition, even while the children sickened and died, and in some experiments intentinally starving children to death to monitor the progress of the effects of starvation.
the art on the walls here, by Indigenous artists, depicts the trees and lakes I remember so well, and also the mountains of the west... nearly everyone is waiting is an Indigenous person, and they are speaking to each other in their own language. no one is speaking English except when they go up to the ticket counter. I realize that the airline, which does not have an Indigenous-themed atmosphere here in the middle of Winnipeg, a border zone between this place called "Canada" and the communities they will fly us to.
in the airport-terminal bathroom, there is a bin for biomedical waste, filled about six inches deep with discarded needles, I am assuming for insulin. besides the historical health challenges posed to Indigenous communities by disease and substance abuse, I've learned that because of the relatively recent and rapid changes in the traditional diets of Indigenous Peoples, nearly 30% of adults in Cross Lake suffer from diabetes, compared with less than five percent of the general population of Manitoba; children as young as seven years old are being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, the adult-onset variety of the disease.
"yeah" he rumbles "that is what people are shifting to now. I say Aboriginal because that is what we are. we have been here longer than any history can remember. before there was writing before anyone knows. Indigenous means we have some rights over the land, but it's beyond that. we're connected to the land, we're part of it, but it does not belong to anyone.
...flooding in Indigenous communities because of dams is all too common. British Columbia's WAC Bennet Dam (1968) flooded out five First Nations Communities, which were all forced to relocate. although BC Hydro settled multi-million dollar suits with the communities, this was largely seen as a compromise in order to gain support for the newly proposed dam on the same river.
...and now, our relationship with the water is unfriendly.
- and the cemeteries? I've heard some of them were flooded too.
- of yeah, - he says - there is an old one at Ross Island that keeps getting flooded out. you're walking along and there you see - a stack of femurs, a rib bone, a skull shining among the rocks.
Jenpeg - the Jenpeg I knew - was built as a temporary town in the forest. it was built to support the building of a dam. it was never going to be there when I went back. it was never meant to be more than it was. it never belonged to us and there was nothing there to be found.
the there real story, I realize, the real reason I came, is in Cross Lake. not in Manitoba, not in Canada. right here. in Pimicikamak.
Places do not belong to us. We belong to them.
June 7, 2021
This is a compelling memoir/travelogue that connects the author's week-long visit to Cross Lake, Manitoba with (1) his own youth in neighboring Jenpeg and (2) the history and present of the indigenous Pimicikamak community. In 170 pages it provides a fleeting snapshot of Cross Lake's present and past, mixed with the author's sentimental reflections on his childhood and family history.
I powered through this over three days. It's quite easy to read, and personably introduces the urgent contemporary issues facing the Pimicikamak community. As a personal memoir, it is touching. As a presentation of research, however, it is mediocre at best. In its aim at narrative nonfiction, this book becomes more of a vanity project ripe cliches and platitudes about the author's own sense of home, with only short anecdotes about residential schools, soil erosion, and the suicide epidemic that fell on this community in 2016. If you have heard about any of these things before, don't get excited: Ali isn't going to offer you more insight, but instead, mention them briefly and then use space for his boring reflections on the star trek reruns playing in his motel room.
There is a longer story to be told here. Maybe I'm used to reading lengthier books, but I think the Pimicikamak deserve at least 400-500 pages of researched writing. The ten pages of notes and suggested further reading looks like it was compiled over a weekend of googling.
I get the sense that Ali is a writer with numerous projects being conceived alongside one another (he's published 10 books of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction since 2014), and this book feels like an unfulfilled project racing to meet its deadline. If you're looking for a touching memoir with fluid prose, this could be the book for you. But if you are looking for an in-depth history on the present and past of indigenous people in "Canada", I'd spend my 24$ elsewhere.
I powered through this over three days. It's quite easy to read, and personably introduces the urgent contemporary issues facing the Pimicikamak community. As a personal memoir, it is touching. As a presentation of research, however, it is mediocre at best. In its aim at narrative nonfiction, this book becomes more of a vanity project ripe cliches and platitudes about the author's own sense of home, with only short anecdotes about residential schools, soil erosion, and the suicide epidemic that fell on this community in 2016. If you have heard about any of these things before, don't get excited: Ali isn't going to offer you more insight, but instead, mention them briefly and then use space for his boring reflections on the star trek reruns playing in his motel room.
There is a longer story to be told here. Maybe I'm used to reading lengthier books, but I think the Pimicikamak deserve at least 400-500 pages of researched writing. The ten pages of notes and suggested further reading looks like it was compiled over a weekend of googling.
I get the sense that Ali is a writer with numerous projects being conceived alongside one another (he's published 10 books of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction since 2014), and this book feels like an unfulfilled project racing to meet its deadline. If you're looking for a touching memoir with fluid prose, this could be the book for you. But if you are looking for an in-depth history on the present and past of indigenous people in "Canada", I'd spend my 24$ elsewhere.
January 20, 2023
This is a difficult book for me to rate for many reasons, the primary one being is that I fluctuated between deep appreciation for Ali's observations, analysis, and historical context and apathy or irritation at what felt like some self-aggrandizing in relationship to Jenpeg/Cross Lake. As a queer, Muslim, migrant settler on Turtle Island myself, I was really intrigued by the premise of returning to/remembering a land that raised you after your migration, and felt resonance with Ali's own reckoning – that he had always been on unceded indigenous/aboriginal land. But I wished there were an even deeper reckoning of his role as a storyteller on behalf of another community, and I wish we had gotten a glimpse of the time between his visit to the cemetery in Manitoba and the decision to write the book the way he did (he acknowledges the long and problematic history of non-indigenous people telling indigenous stories at the end of the book). Perhaps I would have been more comfortable if this felt more like a memoir of his and his ancestors'/family's lives before, during, and after Jenpeg, his relationship to Islam, his queerness, the ways the legacy of other lands ran through his blood, etc. I wonder what kind of permissions he got to write about the community beyond those interviewed – did Kazim Ali get the poplar vote too?
Ultimately, my rating is rounded up to a 4 because I so appreciate the internal reflections and questions Ali had about how to understand our own relationships to land and peoples when we are settlers who are migrants or displaced. I also understood and aligned with the pull he described of going "home." I haven't seen these perspectives or reflection meaningfully elsewhere. I also appreciated the interweaving of Canadian history as it relates to treaties and reservation lands, and the clear implications that this history continues to loom over the lives and livelihoods of indigenous peoples in Cross Lake and beyond.
Ultimately, my rating is rounded up to a 4 because I so appreciate the internal reflections and questions Ali had about how to understand our own relationships to land and peoples when we are settlers who are migrants or displaced. I also understood and aligned with the pull he described of going "home." I haven't seen these perspectives or reflection meaningfully elsewhere. I also appreciated the interweaving of Canadian history as it relates to treaties and reservation lands, and the clear implications that this history continues to loom over the lives and livelihoods of indigenous peoples in Cross Lake and beyond.
Shelved as 'dnfed'
May 10, 2022Another DNF for the month, I was really enjoying this at the beginning but unfortunately there were a few things going on that made it hard for me to want to continue. The writing was pretty dry, and the formatting of blending autobiography with non-fiction about the Jenpeg hydro dam just wasn't carried out very well in my opinion, we would be talking about one only to be abruptly brought to the other (I think there could have been some smoother transitions for sure). But the ultimate reason I didn't finish was something I picked up around chapter 6 when they emerge from the sweat lodge but had been feeling in my periphery was savior-complex vibes, and I don't know if it gets better or worse throughout the book (they were pretty mild but some of the wording seemed off and also some of the dialog from other people just felt fabricated to push it a bit) but I'm not going to sit through it to find out.
Might be a bit more harsh than needed because I'm on my 3rd dnf in as many days but I'm sure I would have done the same if it were a different month.
I think the different stories separately would be very interesting (although maybe more so if someone who was experiencing the effects of the dam first-hand was telling that story)
Might be a bit more harsh than needed because I'm on my 3rd dnf in as many days but I'm sure I would have done the same if it were a different month.
I think the different stories separately would be very interesting (although maybe more so if someone who was experiencing the effects of the dam first-hand was telling that story)
August 28, 2023
The research Ali presents from his week with the Pimicikamak is interesting and informative, and I enjoyed his overview of key issues, but there are several shortcomings in the way the information is presented--primarily because Ali doesn't make clear his own positioning.
He never makes clear whether this is a memoir (which is what it leans towards) or a journalistic piece within the writing-- something also evident when he's introduced as a journalist within the community, and he notes to himself that he's unsure if that's the role he's taking. The book ultimately centers around his own questioning of belonging, which feels out of place and distracts from a larger discussion of how hydropower, in combination with structural inequality and systemic racism, has left lasting impacts on the Aboriginal communities who signed the Northern Flood Agreement of 1977.
He mentions briefly in the acknowledgements that he recognizes the ethical conflict of non-Indigenous writers writing Indigenous stories, but this likely should have been addressed early in the book by making his position clear, and his journey of trying to understand where he fits in relation to Cross Lake ends up coming across clumsy and awkward.
He never makes clear whether this is a memoir (which is what it leans towards) or a journalistic piece within the writing-- something also evident when he's introduced as a journalist within the community, and he notes to himself that he's unsure if that's the role he's taking. The book ultimately centers around his own questioning of belonging, which feels out of place and distracts from a larger discussion of how hydropower, in combination with structural inequality and systemic racism, has left lasting impacts on the Aboriginal communities who signed the Northern Flood Agreement of 1977.
He mentions briefly in the acknowledgements that he recognizes the ethical conflict of non-Indigenous writers writing Indigenous stories, but this likely should have been addressed early in the book by making his position clear, and his journey of trying to understand where he fits in relation to Cross Lake ends up coming across clumsy and awkward.
May 3, 2024
Kazim Ali returns to Jenpeg Winnipeg to recall his typical Canadian childhood of full-body, zip-up snowsuits, tobogganing, x-country skiing, and slamming screen doors into multiple homes. He's not sure if he's coming back as a poet, journalist, ethnographer, scholar, or memoirist, or even if he can ultimately answer the underlying question of what does it mean to be from? What is it he thinks of when he thinks of home?
His father worked at Manitoba Hydro, building the hydroelectric dam on the Nelson River that brought his family to this tiny little outpost. But returning decades later he meets the local Pimicikamak community who have had to deal with the devastating ecological impact, and broken promises brought about by the dam. As Kazim is welcomed by the community, he learns about the long history of erasure — indigenous nations reduced to European style names, residential schools to "kill the Indian in the child", physicians experimenting with Indigenous children, and restrictions on free passage and trade. Kazim begins to understand that his family as immigrants had more access to Canada than Indigenous people. Another interesting exploration of the project that is Canada.
His father worked at Manitoba Hydro, building the hydroelectric dam on the Nelson River that brought his family to this tiny little outpost. But returning decades later he meets the local Pimicikamak community who have had to deal with the devastating ecological impact, and broken promises brought about by the dam. As Kazim is welcomed by the community, he learns about the long history of erasure — indigenous nations reduced to European style names, residential schools to "kill the Indian in the child", physicians experimenting with Indigenous children, and restrictions on free passage and trade. Kazim begins to understand that his family as immigrants had more access to Canada than Indigenous people. Another interesting exploration of the project that is Canada.
August 22, 2021
Beautifully written and expertly researched and reported. “Where are you from?” takes on heaps of meaning for the author—and also for us, readers—who live on and exploit the land and water we often take for granted. I found myself surprised that such a lyric personal journey could be a page turner, but that’s exactly how I ended up, compelled to stay up quite late reading this book. Ali’s powerful recounting of his return to his hometown (which lo longer exists since it was a temporary shelter for the dam workers) brings up so many interesting encounters with the Aboriginal people of that land, the layers of history and struggle for their right to both live there and retain their culture, and the environmental impact of sources of energy we barely understand. I’m left with a feeling of sadness and loss, of regret, but also of the inexorable movement (like water) from past to present to future. We can’t recreate the past and can only move forward, trying our best to be mindful of future generations. I have a renewed sense of responsibility to the soil, the trees, the air, and the rivers and lakes that provide us with the basics of life.
March 12, 2022
This is one of those books I wanted to like. But it turned out to be another of those books written by someone who imagines his private tribulations and his thoughts about them are noteworthy enough to tell the whole world about. Then he tries to tie his personal life to the truly difficult tribulations endured by the native people of northern Manitoba who had to endure the unintended consequences of a huge hydro dam that changed the ecology of their native land and left them with only broken promises about the benefits.
The story of those people deserves attention, even if it isn't different from a hundred other tales of broken treaties and damaged societies. And it's worthwhile noting the extreme kindness they showed to the author during his week-long visit. But a true journalist or sociologist who visited or lived among the native people for a long time could likely have told us much more.
Ultimately Ali fails to convince us that his personal sadness about the loss of his childhood home compares in any way with harm done to the native Cree people who were his neighbors, people he was barely aware of as a happy, well-off child.
The story of those people deserves attention, even if it isn't different from a hundred other tales of broken treaties and damaged societies. And it's worthwhile noting the extreme kindness they showed to the author during his week-long visit. But a true journalist or sociologist who visited or lived among the native people for a long time could likely have told us much more.
Ultimately Ali fails to convince us that his personal sadness about the loss of his childhood home compares in any way with harm done to the native Cree people who were his neighbors, people he was barely aware of as a happy, well-off child.
April 30, 2021
I have a long-standing skepticism toward memoirs, so when I read one that feels authentic, candid, honest, I am inclined to be generous with my rating. 4.5 stars rounded up to 5. “Where are you from?” seems like such an easy question, but it is one that Kazim Ali had a difficult time answering. Going back to where he had acquired language and been introduced to the starry sky seemed like a good idea even though it was no longer a town. The mystical, spiritual, practical consequences of his journey to the far North is compellingly described and quite moving, as is the connection he makes with the Aboriginal people there.
July 2, 2021
Beautiful memoir with a lot of passion and love for the isolated place in the North and the Indigenous community caring for that land. I wish the author did a bit deeper research on individual people in the community, their life stories. It seems to me a bit too much as a snapshot of this one week-long trip that only scratches the surface and presents a long list of problems. Of course it is skillfully contextualized in the politics of colonialism and written with deep care for everyone living in Cross Lake. But I feel the author has the talent and resources to take this representation a step further.
April 24, 2021
In this slim memoir, Ali gives us a view of his childhood memories and the reality of what he finds upon return to the small community of his youth. Not Jenpeg, Manitoba Canada, but rather the Pimicikamak community. Here he learns of the damage done by the power company and the way the community members have responded and are dealing with the issues that damage has caused. Ali’s gentle narrative points to the underlying story in a way that is both enlightening and enriching. Thank you.
I met this book at Auntie's Bookstore in Spokane, WA
I met this book at Auntie's Bookstore in Spokane, WA
November 12, 2021
I loved it & it’s so good to read. I highly recommend. Only docked a star for the author’s constant gendering of strangers they didn’t know like “I saw a a woman over there” or “a man drove by”- as a gender non conforming person I’m confused & disappointed that the author chose to assume gender & pronouns in their descriptions of the people they met, putting a binary system on cultures that are more expansive than binary gender. Other than that I found it a perfect book & very important. Do read it!
March 29, 2022
Some good imagery written into the book and I liked the questions Kazim poses throughout the book about identity and belonging, as well as memory and how fluid these concepts are. I especially liked the line that stated, "a place does not belong to us, we belong to it." Although I really enjoyed the book, I felt some parts were glossed over - and despite feeling a connection with the Cross River community, there was not much follow up on how the community fared in the closing section or if Kazim came back to see them again or continued to advocate for and feel connected to their cause.
May 17, 2022
Kazim Ali grew up in a place called Jenpeg in Manitoba. It was the power plant for that area. His dad was one of the engineers on the dam/plant. Ali goes back as an adult and speaks to the First Nations people who still live in that area and have been affected by the plant and the the way the Canadian government has treated them and the land. A powerful look at the adverse effects of white mans treatment of both the First Nations peoples and the land due to greed and need for power (in all the meanings of power).
February 27, 2023
I took a keen interest in this book as I lived and worked in Pimicikamak from 2012-2015 and witnessed first hand the protest that occurred at the Jenpeg Dam in 2014. Kazim Ali brings to the forefront the damage the dam has had on the community. Not only has it had a massive environmental impact but has also resulted in a loss of culture/identity. I still think of the people of Pimicikamak today and how resilient they are. I hope this book serves to educate many others and makes them question as to who the land they currently stand on actually belongs too.
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