Geronimo’s Christmas at Mohawk Residential School

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By Geronimo Henry, #48

Mohawk Residential School Survivor

 

Remembering Christmas at “The Mush Hole” 1942-1953

 

It was three days before Christmas

‘we had to dress in our Sunday best

and march downtown to the Kirby hotel with all of the rest

 

We arose in the morning when we heard such a clatter

It was the boys’ master saying there’s chores to be done, let’s hear no chatter

We were paraded through Brantford for our Christmas meal

Watched and made fun of by people so unreal

 

What a way to treat children, we didn’t know it was cruel

The dirty little Indians from the Mohawk Residential School

 

On Christmas Eve there was no great joy

We had a Santa who brought us some little toy

We would get dressed again in our Sunday clothes

We’d help the little ones get ready around seven or so

We’d march down to the mess-hall and there sit in rows

Waiting, for Santa with ribbons and bows

 

The boys on one side, and the girls on the other

Mr. Zimmerman would lead carols one after another

Then down came Santa between the girls and boys

Up to the front to hand out boxes of toys

 

When our number was called for, we had no names

We’d collect a gift, candy, and orange, all the same

 

One Christmas I got a book beyond my years

I was so disappointed I broke down in tears

When the boys’ master asked, Hey why are you crying?

I was so sad and that was no lying

 

He then brought me a toy tank, and everyone wanted to play

It was the best gift, and it made my day

It was a great treasure for years to come

I cherished that tank from when I was young

 

But it was taken away when I out-grew the toy

Only to be smashed and broken by a much younger boy

Then Christmas came and it was a long lonesome day

Get up for chores and get them out of the way

No one was allowed to go home for the holiday season

Little ones crying and they had good reason

 

Wondering what Mom and Dad were doing at home

Are they having a dinner while I’m left to roam

So we had to make our own fun of icing the hills

And ride down on cardboard ending in spills

 

So don’t criticize, or condemn me for the things that I say

Cause I’m just remembering a long ago Christmas day.