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This one might need some explaining...
This is a sad story.
Once upon a time there was a native tribe in Canada who called themselves Wyandot. The Iroquoians called them Wendat. The French settlers thought that their hairstyle was reminiscent of a boar's bristles, hure, and called them the Huron Indians. Lake Huron, and the county I grew up in, is named for them.
The Wendat had the misfortune of getting caught on the wrong side of European Imperialism. The Jesuits corralled them, basically, most famously at St. Marie-Among-The-Hurons, which is north of Toronto, and attempted to convert them to Catholicism. About half converted. Smallpox crept into the camp, killing both Christian and non-Christians alike.
And then the English decided they'd rather have the Iroquois than a native group with French support, so they strongly encouraged the Iroquois to take them out. The Iroquois obliged them, wiping out entire settlements and showing mercy to none. North America has eight Catholic martyrs, and all of them are the Jesuits who were tortured. The Wendat were dispersed, the language nearly obliterated, and the culture shoved into such strange places as Oklahoma.
But there's a song.
Brébeuf wrote it in the Wendat language. He was the first (and probably only) European to master it fully. It was translated into French and English over the years. This version has different English lyrics than usual, but it's Heather Dale which only makes it more amazing.
Jesus your king is born, Jésu est né. Jesous Ahatonhia
This is Canada. Our beginnings. Our cultures. Our epic, epic failures. Our chance.
(um, if someone would rip that for me, I'd be eternally grateful)
ETA: Here is the album (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sache8), if anyone (sache8) wants to have a gander (sache8).
Once upon a time there was a native tribe in Canada who called themselves Wyandot. The Iroquoians called them Wendat. The French settlers thought that their hairstyle was reminiscent of a boar's bristles, hure, and called them the Huron Indians. Lake Huron, and the county I grew up in, is named for them.
The Wendat had the misfortune of getting caught on the wrong side of European Imperialism. The Jesuits corralled them, basically, most famously at St. Marie-Among-The-Hurons, which is north of Toronto, and attempted to convert them to Catholicism. About half converted. Smallpox crept into the camp, killing both Christian and non-Christians alike.
And then the English decided they'd rather have the Iroquois than a native group with French support, so they strongly encouraged the Iroquois to take them out. The Iroquois obliged them, wiping out entire settlements and showing mercy to none. North America has eight Catholic martyrs, and all of them are the Jesuits who were tortured. The Wendat were dispersed, the language nearly obliterated, and the culture shoved into such strange places as Oklahoma.
But there's a song.
Brébeuf wrote it in the Wendat language. He was the first (and probably only) European to master it fully. It was translated into French and English over the years. This version has different English lyrics than usual, but it's Heather Dale which only makes it more amazing.
Jesus your king is born, Jésu est né. Jesous Ahatonhia
This is Canada. Our beginnings. Our cultures. Our epic, epic failures. Our chance.
(um, if someone would rip that for me, I'd be eternally grateful)
ETA: Here is the album (
sache8), if anyone (sache8) wants to have a gander (sache8).
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Okay, it makes me almost cry. It is so lovely. Then when you know the story....*cries*
Thank you so much for sharing. :)
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Now I have to go look up everything Heather Dale has done.
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See, I'm a useful friend!
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She comes to Edmonton sometimes.
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