This holiday season we are featuring the 2017 winners of the Cedric Literary Awards, given to previously unpublished Canadian writers of prose and poetry aged 50 or more. Founded in 2014, the Cedric program is an annual juried competition that also celebrates First Nations writers, Francophone writers and those who represent a pan-Asian heritage. More than 500 writers from across British Columbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan and the Yukon have taken part in the competition.
Today we feature Guudiniia La Boucan, winner in the First Nations category of the Cedric Literary Awards. In the next two days we will feature the remaining winners, KB Nelson in the poetry category and Susan Pieters in the creative non-fiction category. On Tuesday, we featured Anneliese Schultz, winner in the fiction category.
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Guudiniia La Boucan is the winner in the First Nations writing category of the Cedric Literary Awards.
Cree, lawyer, fisheries biologist, diplomat, icebreaker oiler, mother, writer and much more!
La Boucan is a lawyer, a Cree woman living in Victoria, a member of the Whitefish Lake Band in Alberta and a survivor of the ’60s scoop. She was the first fisheries biologist for the Haida Nation and a diplomat for 18 years. She worked on the landmine ban treaty campaign and was temporary attaché to the High Commission in Nigeria.
In B.C., she worked with the Cowichan Tribe in Duncan, and was involved in the Hul’qumi’num Treaty Group Fisheries Chapter. That led her to law school.
Angered and frustrated by how the law can be used to undermine the rights of Indigenous peoples, she re-told three landmark Aboriginal law cases, Delgamuukw, Sparrow and Van der Peet, as a part of her final law school paper.
Del’s Truck is based on Delgamuukw. It is about different world views and how they clash. La Boucan hopes that her story can be used as a tool for reconciliation by promoting dialogue between all Canadians.
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“That’s absurd; there oughta be a law against it!”
Del’s truck was a beauty. It was a Ford XLT extended cab, super camper special, vintage 1981. It was painted brown with a broad yellow stripe down the side of the bed. Del lovingly referred to it as the Nanaimo Bar. He drove it all over and used it for hunting and fishing and when the winter came, he would haul firewood. All who knew Del knew his truck. He was very generous with his truck. He left the keys in it and anyone who needed wheels could borrow it. It would always come back with a little more or a little less gas. Del liked sharing his truck; it made him a rich man.
One day, Del was in the local cafe drinking Haidabuck coffee and eating a piece of pie. After paying his bill, Del got up and looked outside. He noted with some annoyance that his truck wasn’t there. He thought that maybe Milly had to go to the grocery store or Big Bob was hauling garbage. Not too concerned, he headed out the door and started walking towards town. It was a beautiful crisp December day. It was the sort of day that hints at the bitter cold to come and the promise of the wondrous clean palette of winter snow. As Del entered town, he saw a raven swoop down onto a power line. He nodded to the bird. Further along, he smiled and said hi to several friends. He was a well-known and well-liked man. Feeling expansive in his connection with the world, Del was rudely shocked to see his truck sitting on a used car sales lot.
The lot was called Sweet Generous Deals. It was new in town. It had a motley group of vehicles that had seen better days. Seeing his beloved truck there with a sticker price on its windshield caused Del some surprise and concern. Quickly crossing the road, he inspected the truck to be sure it was his Nanaimo Bar. When he was walking around the back of the truck, a voice came from behind him.
“She’s a beauty, eh?” Surprised, Del turned around and found himself facing a short guy with a moustache and a fuzzy fringe of hair around a bald head. With the light behind him, Del thought he was an angel with a halo. “Pleased to meet you, my name is Couronne, Reg Couronne.” Good manners overrode Del’s shock and he answered, “Mr. Couronne, my name is Del and this here is my truck.” “Well, I am glad you can see yourself behind the wheel of this fine truck, Del…” said Reg. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Del replied, “No, no, that’s not what I mean. I mean this is MY truck. Someone, maybe Melvin, must have played a joke on me and brought it here as a prank.”
Shaking his head Reg said, “No, actually I found this truck with its keys in the ignition and brought it here. The law might see that such absence of care as the person who was using it had left it for the next person to come along and use it too. Whoever left the keys in the truck was simply inviting someone else to take it which I did and now it belongs to me. Instead of leaving it vulnerable and open to the community vandals, I have a better use for the truck. I aim to sell it and make me some money.” Del started to laugh, a deep belly laugh that travelled his whole frame. He wheezed, “Tell me who set you up to this, I love a good joke.” Reg feeling unsure about Del’s sobriety, says, “Mr. Del, I don’t believe I was in anyway, being funny. I am beginning to suspect you might have had a few too many and should go home for a bit.”
Sensing that he was losing this man’s patience as well as his own, Del said, “Now wait a minute. That truck is mine. I can prove it.” “Okay, do you have ownership papers, insurance forms or anything else that would prove your ownership?” “Well, no … see the truck was my Dad’s and he gave it to me. We didn’t bother with any papers as it was family. I don’t insure the truck as it would cost more than the truck is worth. Besides I only drive it locally and on the back roads.”
Reg replies with a superior tone, “Ah, then you have no proof of ownership. Nothing a court would point to and say oh, yes, this truck is yours.” Del replies confidently, “Well, I may not have any papers, but I can describe this truck down to every dent and scrape. That dent on the bumper happened when I hit a deer on the logging road out near Renfrew. That stain on the seat was when Milly’s kids spilt their ketchup from their McDonald’s happy meal. And that fishing rod hanging in the rack is my brother, Bill’s. I know that getting out of first gear is a bit tricky and that the right hand mirror needs a bit of duct tape to hold it up. The engine knocks more going up hill and she drinks 5W20 oil like it was Coke. Heck, I can sing you all the songs on the cassettes in the glove box. There’s Patsy Cline’s, Crazy, Hank Williams, Your Cheating Heart and … “Putting his hands over his ears, Reg pleads, “Please, Mr. Del, I don’t want to hear you sing, in fact, I have a tin ear and so I couldn’t tell one song from the other.”
Feeling a bit desperate, Del says, “Okay, but listen, I can get some of my family and friends over here to back me up. They’ll tell you that the truck is mine. Heck, they drive the truck more than I do.”
Smugly, Reg replies, “Honestly, it doesn’t matter how many friends come here and tell me that you own the truck. The fact is I have the truck. Mr. Del, let’s be reasonable men. We all know that possession is 9/10th of the law. Tales from friends and family won’t change that. In fact, I am not sure who owns the truck as you said everyone drives it, so how can it be yours alone? I, on the other hand, have sole and exclusive possession of this truck at this moment, so my ownership is going to be assumed as I won’t leave the keys in it unguarded.”
Getting visibly upset, Del says, “This is absurd, how can you claim ownership when the truck is mine and has been in my family for over 20 years?” Speaking as if to a slow student, Reg explains, “Well, that’s the law. You have no proof of ownership, how do I know that anyone else who drives it won’t come by and claim to own this truck? But hey, I’m a business man. You can buy the truck or lease it for a monthly fee. Leasing allows you the benefits of ownership without the hassle of owning the truck. Of course, you can’t change the truck in any way, while you are leasing it. No big tires or new paint jobs. But you can still use it to hunt and fish and haul firewood. But you can’t haul bricks in it. At the end of the lease, you return it here and can get a new vehicle. That’s why we call it a Sweet Generous Deal. I also offer the “Couronne’s Honour” guarantee of trouble-free driving for a whole month.” Reeling, Del yelled, “HOW CAN YOU LEASE ME A TRUCK YOU DON’T DAMN WELL OWN!!! IT’S MINE! I AM GOING TO PROVE THAT YOU STOLE IT, YOU …” But Mr. Couronne had already turned his back and went to talk to a young couple looking at a minivan.
Del was stunned. He scrunched up his eyes, hoping that he would open them and find himself back at the Pooched Pup Café with his truck parked outside. No such luck. All he saw was that halo around Couronne’s head. He walked slowly away from the lot. The sound of the raven cawing over the valley followed him.
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What judge Richard Van Camp had to say:
This was a delight to read: a perfect story to share on stage and in print. I can tell this writer will go on to write incredible works because the dialogue is bang on, the prose style is lyrical and a joy to read. The pages turn themselves. My only critique is that this should have been longer. I’d love to see Del figure out a way to get his truck back using logic and a twist on common sense. Very fun. Congratulations. I felt as if I knew Del from the first paragraph. The world needs more Del and his truck. The world deserves more Del and his truck. Bravo!
