Ann Pollard-Ranco on Land Access and Language on Wabanaki Homelands
This story was a collaboration between Ann Pollard Ranco and NBEC's Stories for Change working group.
Connecter & Interviewer: Sikwani Dana. Administrator: Adrienne Singer. Audio producer: Aubrey Calaway.
Photographer: Jen Hazard. Transcriber: Serena Blasius. Editor: Audrey Cole.
Story coordinators: Tessa Shanteler and Emily Weyrauch.
Left: Ann photographed in Portland in 2024 by Jen Hazard.
Above: Young Ann on Little Deer Isle
Sikwani Dana: nətəli-wisi Sikwani Dana. My name is Sikwani Dana and I will be the interviewer for today.
Ann Pollard-Ranco: nətəli-wisi Ann Pollard Ranco nαkα pαnawάhpskewi nəya. nočəyαwi Orono, Maine, nαkα nəwiki Orono, Maine. Hi, my name is Ann Pollard Ranco. I am Penobscot, and I'm from Orono, and I live in Orono.
Sikwani Dana: Okay, what does the outdoors mean to you?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: That's a really interesting question because when I was thinking about this, something that came to my mind is that I don't really think in those specific words when I'm outside. I just feel like I'm home. I feel really comfortable. And it brought me back to a discussion, presentation that was led by James Francis, who's with the Penobscot Tribal Historic Preservation Office, Cultural Historic Preservation Office.
And he was talking about one of my ancestors, Joe Polis, who was the guide for Thoreau. And one thing that Thoreau wrote in his journals, and he was having such a hard time understanding, is why Joe Polis was so comfortable everywhere he went in the state. And when he asked Joe, Joe said, you know, “everywhere is home.”
And that really resonated with me and has stuck with me since I saw that presentation three or four years ago. Because I just feel so at home outdoors. Like, so the outdoors is home to me as well. I feel like that's such a cultural feeling within our own homelands to experience that feeling of being at home.
Sikwani Dana: You talk about the outdoors being home. And so I'm curious, what builds your relationship to nature?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: I think back to growing up. And my parents really wanted to instill the importance of not just the Penobscot River being our homeland, but other places that we don't have as much access to as Wabanaki people, particularly the coast, and being significant to us as Indigenous people, Wabanaki people.
And, in terms of relationship building, I owe so much gratitude to them because my earliest memories are, you know, just bushwhacking to get to beaches that aren't super public and of going blueberry picking in mid-coast Maine, harvesting sweet grass from the marshes and picking cranberries from the saltwater marshes as well.
And throughout that you get to know the places in a way that just one-time visiting wouldn't allow. And going back year after year and practicing these traditions, our cultural traditions of being in place and relationship with place, I think has just been so vital in relationship building.
Sikwani Dana: Do you remember maybe a particular experience, maybe early on, that felt really impactful for you, and why was it impactful?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: I have so many, but I don't know. I always return to this one photograph that I have of my dad and I on the beach in Cape Rosier on a beach that's called Redman's Beach when I was maybe four or five years old and my mom would always make cinnamon rolls and we'd bring them and toast them over the fire and we'd have a can of beans or something like really random that was super easy to heat up over the fire.
Ann as a child on Redman's Beach
And that memory lives on in my heart so much. It just felt like one of the happiest memories of my life, you know, being there on this beach and it was always during the winter. So for some reason we'd go on warm January days and have the fire and we'd be sitting there, like oftentimes I'd be in a t-shirt and there'd be like crusty snow and the high tide zone and just that feeling of being with family and community in those places of cultural significance.
And perhaps one of the reasons that memory stands out the most for me is that we have completely lost access to that beach through privatization of the coastline in general. And I just think it's an example of within my generation of how that loss has been felt.
Sikwani Dana: Does or how does your connection to the outdoors intersect with other areas of your life?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: Yeah, that's such a big question, right? I feel like the path that I've gone down in life, my relationship to our homelands of Wabanakik is so intertwined with the work that I do in activism work that I've sort of dedicated my life to thus far in terms of not only Land Back, land access–I work with conservation organizations, we'll call them, so like land trusts, if you will to advocate for access for Wabanaki people to places of cultural significance. So that’s sort of like one tier.
And then another level would be language revitalization. In the past few years, I've really awakened a passion for like pαnawάhpskewi, like speaking Penobscot and learning Penobscot. And I don't want to call it work because when you're passionate about something, it doesn't feel like work. And I know Sikwani and I have had these discussions so much because we're both extremely passionate about learning our language and revitalization of language.
And I just feel really inspired and grateful that my work brings me in these directions that align with my core values of love for our homelands.
Sikwani Dana: So I know what you mean when you say connecting language revitalization to nature. Can you explain that a little bit more in depth? Where does language revitalization and outdoors intersect?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: So, when I think about land access and our language and the intersections of the two, our language and the vocabulary is such a place-based vocabulary in that specific words in the language denote features of the land and relationship with land.
So, I'm just trying to think of an example, it's not really coming to my mind. Yeah, pαnawάhpskewi, yeah, Penobscot where the rocks widen, is the translation for that–or like the, where the white rocks widen. And, you know, that denotes a specific place that some people point to the Verona Island area, which is sort of like the mouth of Penobscot Bay. And that's like where we come from, like we're the people of this place. So that's just one example of language relating to land.
And then when you look at the disenfranchisement of Wabanaki people from parts of our coastal homeland, particularly, you know, Penobscot people who have zero coastal access, the language hasn't really been spoken in these places for centuries.
And a lot of contexts up until, you know, modern day of us being able to be advocates for access to these places. So there's something really healing for people about being able to speak a language in places of cultural significance, like the coast and the islands.
Sikwani Dana: My go-to words when I try to explain that to people are mosohso, the full word for moose, which means one who shaves himself, which if you're just like– “it's a moose, what? Why is a moose shaving himself?” But it has to do with in the spring when they're trying to get that velvet off.
Or also "Skowhegan" is a great example with the fish ladder. Modern day, you just see dams and you don't understand.
What are your experiences outdoors like? Are they alone, with family, with friends, with groups?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: I think that it's a bit of both. First I'll talk about individual experiences. I really love being outside by myself. But usually it's with my dog, Nellie. So I'm not alone–but like human-wise. But going on hikes with my dog is one of my favorite ways of day to day experiencing nature and being, being out in nature.
But one of the most important traditions that revolves around being with other people is the Katahdin 100. Sikwani and I have really grown up together on the Katahdin 100. It's a 100 mile sacred journey from the head of Indian Island to Katahdin. So, our dads were paddling it from–I don't know–the 1980s. Yeah, they began a run in the 1980s and that sort of transitioned into paddling up river and we're sort of children of the Katahdin 100.
And to me, that's one of the most significant outdoor experiences, happens once per year, but it's the most grounding and the most community that I feel being outdoors in a way that being with people who understand the cultural and spiritual significance of place is just such a blessing. I'm so grateful for that.
Sikwani Dana: For those who don't know, can you explain why Katahdin?
Ann Pollard Ranco: Katahdin is a place of spiritual significance for all Wabanaki people. And to continue that tradition, the thousands of years of going there for spiritual guidance and, and rejuvenation–so integral to us as Penobscots.
Sikwani Dana: Have you had any experiences outdoors that felt really big or important or pivotal to your life?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: Something that comes to mind happened actually more recently in my reconnection with the islands particularly the town of Stonington. I had stopped on a beach that seemed like public access. It was just like pulling off to the side of the road and getting out, and I wanted to say a prayer in the language just to acknowledge our ancestors and say hello to the lands.
And I no sooner had started that than I looked up on the road and there was this man standing there waving his hands at me to get my attention. And I was like, “oh, hi, can I help you?” and he goes, “This is private property. You're not allowed to be here.” And I sheepishly explained to him, you know, why I was there, what I was doing. I pointed to my Wabanaki license plate, and he had never heard of Wabanaki people before. He had no idea what I was talking about. And I left in tears, feeling horrible, because he was really mean, and I just felt very vulnerable in that moment.
I continued on, further into the town of Stonington, where I found a very obviously public beach, and continued the ceremony that I had started, and about 45 minutes had transpired since this encounter when I see this very same man driving very slowly with a woman in the passenger side of his vehicle, clearly looking–I would later find out–for me and they parked and they got out of the vehicle and he came up to me and he said, “I just wanted to apologize. I realized how awful that came across. I've educated myself in the time since we had that encounter, and I just want to welcome you onto my land–” quote unquote my land, “And to come back whenever you want to hold ceremony and be here.”
But for me, that was one of the most quick turnarounds. I think the advocacy work that we do, it's a very long game. It's like, you know, we're talking the talk and walking the walk, and we can only hope that the next generation or the next generation after that will have increased access and a better life. And I think that's why we do what we're doing. It's not for us, it's for the future.
But it was just so incredible that within several–you know– two hours, all of this had transpired and he'd undergone this, like, complete mind shift to me was just so impactful. And that's really stood out as a memory of mine that's been like, there is hope. And I don't know, even in moments when it feels like you've kind of been kicked down, there's always, you know, hope for change and people that have become more educated and more accepting and welcoming.
Sikwani Dana: That's wild. It's gonna take me a while to process that. That is just like, so cool. So cool that–I mean, a little weird that he was trying to find you again, because it's scary. But also, simultaneously very sorry that happened to you, and also very glad that it resolved that way.
You kind of talked about Nellie, and you talked about the Katahdin 100, and I'm curious, are there any other ways that you like to experience the outdoors?
Photography by Ann Pollard-Ranco
Ann Pollard-Ranco: I am absolutely inspired constantly by the outdoors. To photography of places that I visit and have the opportunity to spend time in and get to know–as well as inspired to write. I'm also a writer, so poetry and just like, words on paper–the feelings that come from having these experiences of reconnection with significant places–are two channels that I'm very much tuning into.
I think photography is a really beautiful way to combat the erasure narrative that we as Wabanaki people face within our own homelands. To say that “we are still here, we are still visiting these places and experiencing them–and this is through our lens, literally the way we see our homelands.” And I think that just really goes hand-in-hand with the activism work that we do, it's just that visibility piece and representing underrepresented people.
Sikwani Dana: When you say poetry, are you talking about your own poetry, are you talking about other written poetry, and in either case, would you be willing to share some?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: Okay. This is called “The Morning Comes Softly.”
The morning comes softly,
she whispers, wrapped in blankets of waves that
momentarily rest on granite
flushing pink.
While thrushes and sparrow sings
of their own celebration,
pronounced by crows
atop the spruces.
When fluency is not words
but feeling.
Like wingbeats of the eagle
before dawn break,
or wind through pine needles,
and rhythm of heartbeat.
Sikwani Dana: Thank you for sharing that. Has your connection to nature changed over time?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: I don't think it's changed over time. I feel like I have grown with the trees in my backyard. I don't think changing, you know, we change as people–but I feel like when you have a relationship that is built upon such love and respect and time that maybe you change together, but I don't feel like I see nature in any different way as I did when I was a child.
I think I've become more aware of the inequities that are faced by BIPOC communities, Wabanaki communities, when it comes to access to places in nature. So I don't see it and take it as for granted as much as I did when I was little, that we could just go to these places. I realize now that there's a lot more to it and a lot more to access and more work to be done.
So I think that as a child I was a bit more optimistic. And now I see, you know, that there are a lot of challenges to access and land return that I wasn't even aware of. So maybe in that sense, you know, my relationship has changed. I want to be a better advocate for nature. I want to be a better friend. So yeah, I'm always inspired to just try harder.
Sikwani Dana: Are there any challenges or barriers to connecting with the outdoors that you would like to share?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: One thing that comes to mind right away is just access, access, access, access. I've had the real pleasure of being able to sail out on our homeland waters with Sikwani and her partner, Nathan.
This past summer, we sailed from Belfast Harbor to Rockland, and then stayed the night in Rockland, and sailed over to Butter Island, where we anchored and got out for a little hike. And, the privatization of these places and what you can access and what you can't access–even in a space that is open for people–is really disappointing sometimes for me.
There's so many places that I'd love to be able to access. One other place that comes to my mind is White Island off of Sunshine and Deer Isle where I lived on the shore of Sunshine, just connected to Deer Isle, the bigger isle. I would look out every morning at White Island and really be drawn to it, and it wasn't until I read a book by a local historian that I realized that White Island was the last place that Penobscots had a village site. And the chief of that village site was chief Joseph Orono, who's my great-times-eight grandfather. And it really found a place for me why that island was calling to me.
When I asked, like, “can I get out there?” The answer is “no, it's privately owned.” And heartbreak of wanting to visit a place, there's something calling you to this place and you can't actually access it is such a big challenge. I think that's something that could be echoed. You could ask any Wabanaki person and there's probably going to be a handful of places, if not many handfuls of places that they would love to be able to access but cannot.
Sikwani Dana: Do you have any thoughts? And if the answer is no, that's okay. It's not always our job to fix these problems that we also didn't create. But with that, do you have any thoughts on what can be done to address these barriers and challenges?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: I wish I had an answer. Honestly, I feel like maybe at the beginning I thought I had an answer, but as I've done more and more of this work, I think that time–unfortunately, for better or for worse–time is really the only answer. Because unless people are ready, sometimes there's no door. The door isn't open. There isn't a door, maybe, to begin with. But we can be really hopeful and continue to do our work that we have been called to do in life, which I feel like for me is the educational piece, the activism piece, the language piece, and in time, the culmination of all of these efforts–not just my efforts, but Sikwani’s efforts, Bomazeen Land Trust's efforts, the Wabanaki Commission for Land and Stewardship, First Light, and all these, all these components–will have ripple effects that will one day in time lead to people realizing that they're taking care of these places that maybe aren't theirs to take care of.
Sikwani Dana: I feel like you've kind of answered this but also just want to give you more space to talk about it, which is what do you wish people knew more about on any of the topics that we have discussed or that we're going to discuss?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: I touched a little bit about it when I talked about my photography, but something that comes to my mind is just the shared experience.
I can really only speak for myself, but I've talked to enough people where I can safely say it's a shared experience of feeling so invisible in our homelands. And that is, “oh, I didn't know there were still Indians in Maine.” That's, you know, seemingly such an outrageous comment. I’ve actually lost count of the number of times that I've heard that throughout my lifetime.
And just being so incredibly invisible in a place that you know you belong, this place of belonging that you, you wouldn't belong anywhere more than you belong here. I think that there's so many opportunities for education that would combat this erasure narrative that Indigenous people experience. And one of my favorite quotes from Sikwani Dana is, Google is a thing!
And, I kind of I laughingly say that in the back of my head whenever I have one of these encounters now, because there is so much information for people to learn, but I think that we need to be more curious as a people, as humans. That's something that we're unfortunately seeming to have less and less of, and curiosity and connection and just being really open and receptive–I think people could benefit in more ways than one.
Sikwani Dana: What is it about being outdoors that you wish everyone could experience?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: Something that my mom always says about the outdoors is that “in nature, we all belong.” Nature doesn't judge. Nature doesn't discriminate. Nature accepts you. And the feeling of being in a place that you feel so much love and kindness and care from, and you also mirror the same feelings back.
It's just such a profound feeling, sitting along the Penobscot River, watching the morning mist come up from the river. And the sun come through the mist and the the crispness of these fall mornings that we're having now is just such a grounding and peaceful experience that–it really defines me as a person in terms of, I feel most myself when I'm in nature and most of myself when I'm outside.
It's kind of not to sound like cliche, but you know, I am that, that's who I am. Like we are all made up of stardust and it's just so natural for all peoples to have these connections to place. And at one point, all people all over the world, all humans shared these relationships and understood what that felt like. So I wish for all people to be able to experience that because it's truly healing and grounding.
Sikwani Dana: We talked a little bit about how language kind of connects us to our culture and to nature. Now I'm gonna be even more specific about how does language revitalization connect us or you to nature?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: I feel like my language learning journey and my love for language revitalization really went hand in hand with the work that I've done with access to the coast.
And, essentially when I was feeling really lost in life about three years ago, after the world started waking up from the pandemic and our lives had been,--oof, like everybody knows it, and it means something different to everybody–but just how much that impacted us. And, you know, I was really feeling the effects of that and feeling really uncertain about which direction to go in.
And I prayed to the ancestors and I asked them, like, you know, I'm at a point in my life where I really need a little bit of guidance. Like, please just, you know, tell me what direction to go in. And a couple of days went by and I remember I was making dinner and cutting up some squash, I think, on the cutting board.
And this message just came to me. It was like, “go to the islands.” I was like, “oh, what does that mean?” “Go to the islands.” And I realized that I needed to physically go to the islands.
So I met these really incredible people through a friend of mine who offered me their inn to stay in on MDI, that had closed for the winter time, so I was able to stay in this inn throughout the whole winter and go and be with the sunrise and the rocks and Acadia, and I think that's where that poem that I read was born out of–just this experience of reconnection in a different way than I had grown up, like going to Sand Beach and kind of like going to Bar Harbor with my dad.And it wasn't until later on in life, I realized it was so important to experience that by myself. And it really felt like a coming of age in a sense.
But it was during that time of reconnection that I started taking Carol Dana's weekly language class on Zoom. And, you know, through that, I, you know, kept on showing up to the Zooms and speaking the language, in these places of cultural significance, every day, hiking, taking pictures, watching the sunrise, sunset. It was at that point when I came back from that winter of staying on Mount Desert Island that Carol took me aside and asked me if I would be her language apprentice. And to me, that was just an incredible honor, so humbling.
And I think that the journey of language revitalization was born out of that ancestral calling to be in these places of cultural significance. I firmly believe that, “go to the islands.” But little did I know, like, how much that would change my life, and it certainly did because here I am.
Sikwani Dana: You lived on Deer Isle as well and you–I'm not sure what you wanted to talk about, but I remember you were like, “let's talk about that.”
Ann Pollard-Ranco: Yeah, so that's kind of like the next chapter. It came back from that winter of staying on Mount Desert Island, and I was still feeling drawn to be to the islands, go to the islands, and I started going to the Blue Hill Peninsula a lot more, and a good friend of mine, Lander, who used to work for Blue Hill Heritage Trust, offered me a place to stay.
So many kind people, offering, it's like–if you can do anything just invite us to come and stay with you and just access places and be in places. But I'd woken up one particular morning and I really wanted to watch the sunrise and it was late winter. I think it was like February. So not late winter, but you know, it's kind of getting closer to spring and I pulled out the Maine gazetteer and once again, “ancestors, where do I go?”
And this one particular spot, Deer Isle jumped out on the map and I drove there at 4:30 AM. And it was really dark and a little scary because they're windy back roads that I'm not super familiar with or familiar with at all in this case and I get there and on the horizon there was mə̀təl and in Penobscot, mə̀təl is the red glow that we see and it can happen pre-dawn or after the sunset, so it's just almost like either right after dark or right before dark.
And that morning it reflected on the ice on the causeway that had jammed up because there was so much ice. And it was one of the most profound experiences in my life, arriving there and not knowing if there would be access, but there just so happened to be access. There were no “no trespassing” signs. So I take that as a green flag.
I got out of the car and I just walked out on the rocks and I sang our welcome song, αli-ahα, and that truly changed my life, that sunrise. And I kept on going back to this place over and over again, because I fell in love with it. And I talked to some people at the Island Heritage Trust and just let them know,” I'd love to move to Deer Isle because I'm being drawn to be here. And I think that more Wabanaki people need the opportunity to live here. And, you know, if you hear anything, any openings, let me know.”
And this one employee of the island, Island Heritage Trust said, “well, I'm actually leaving a really small, tiny house that I've been renting with my partner for the past year and we're looking to upsize a little bit.”
I said, oh my gosh, please connect me with your landlord. Long story short. The place that tiny house was on was the exact spot that I'd been going to watch the sunrise and had fallen in love with, and had been going back and back.
So, I ended up moving there two years ago in November and stayed there for a whole year with my then four-month-old puppy Nellie, who miraculously was also allowed to be, be there in this lovely little tiny house, and we really grew this beautiful relationship with the place, and it's certainly a huge part of who I am, and my experiences of reconnection, and speaking the language, and singing our songs in the language.
Sikwani Dana: I'm gonna bring up coastal access and loss just within your lifetime again to give you space to elaborate on that. It feels important, especially where you're just talking about not knowing if you were going to have access and then also living next to the coast and, and things like that. And I know now you are also not living next to the coast, so how is that adjustment?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: Yeah, I just moved back from, so after my year on Deer Isle, I lived in Brooksville, which is also on the Blue Hope Peninsula and on an ancestral canoe route, Horseshoe Cove, where the story of kəloskαpe and the moose, which maybe for another day, because we're not supposed to tell stories when the, when it's not snowing culturally, but that's a really significant portage route and canoe route.
So I was able to spend six months there and I just most recently moved back to Orono. The housing crisis is really being felt by all people, not just Wabanaki people, but finding places that are affordable and homey is really difficult. So right now I'm back living at home while I decide, you know, what's next.
And yeah, so it's been a bit of an adjustment to be back from the coast, but I really feel like my two years that I was living in those areas was really life-changing for me. I really feel like I changed in a really good way as a person because I was away from–it was the first time in my life that I lived alone and so far away from community, but I feel like it taught me a lot about resilience and it's bittersweet to be back, but I love the Penobscot River so much. And it feels really good to be back home as well, but I wish more people knew about access.
I think of a lot of the marshes that I grew up going to, picking sweetgrass, are much harder to access now, for sure. We've been chased off a lot of marshes, people like screaming at us, like, “what are you doing? This is my land,” even though we have rights of egress to be there. It's definitely something that's disheartening for sure. I think that it's not just my family, but I feel like every family has a story about how they've been made to feel unsafe and unwelcome.
Sikwani Dana: It's kind of like that continuation, modern colonization happening.
So talking about feeling unsafe. That actually nicely leads into our next question. What helps you feel comfortable in the outdoors? This could be like a great pair of shoes, or it could be physical safety, or like mental safety. Any route that you want to take in answering that question.
Ann Pollard-Ranco: I feel like there's always an inherent sense of, you know, being a woman out alone in nature.
There's an inherent risk that comes with that, unfortunately. And it's something I'm always aware of, you know, being aware of my surroundings, no matter what. I carry pepper spray that I think sometimes makes me feel a little bit safer. Letting people know where I'm going. It's very unfortunate, but, you know, Indigenous women are, I don't know the exact statistic, but.
Sikwani Dana: I found a short list of stats from wearenative.com.
It is four in five Native women have experienced violence. Native women are twice as likely than white women to experience violence. Native women face murder rates ten times the national average. And the murder rate for Native women is about three times more than that of white women.
Ann Pollard-Ranco: Yeah, that's really astounding. That's profound. But yeah, it's so sobering to think that, you know, as a woman, Native woman outside, I am more likely to experience harm.
Sikwani Dana: Now let's dream of a better world. Which is–what does your vision of the relationship between humans and the natural world look like in the world that you dream of?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: The word that comes to my mind in Penobscot is nətalənαpèmənawak,“all my relations.” And it's, I think, so integral to how we as Indigenous people view the world and that's the interconnectedness of all life and being–that humans are not at the top of a pyramid. We're just one of many, many, many spirits that are here and we can do more good than harm.I feel a lot of times, humans do more harm than good in the natural world, but it doesn't have to be that way. We can, change our ways. My vision for the planet would be a place where people don't spray their lawns with pesticides that kill insects and birds and they don't put out poisons to kill rats and mice and rodents and that would then work up the food chain and end up killing foxes and owls and other predators.
We had an incredible fox companion when I lived on Deer Isle, who we watched be raised from a kit to adult. And one day came across dead in the lawn and the Maine wildlife biologist who I called and came out and did a necropsy on the fox found that she had extremely high levels of rodenticide in her system where somebody had just put it out for the rats or whatever and the fox that come across and eaten it.
Just people being more considerate of all of our relations and realizing that everything is connected and every single action that we have will have effect on all of our relations.
Sikwani Dana: How do you see yourself helping to build that world?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: I think part of indigenous culture is being really humble so I feel uncomfortable like saying anything really.
I think that being supportive, and collaborative in as many ways as possible and as many forms as that takes and working together with other people. Because it's not like about me–it's about us and about our future generations. So for me, it's like, what can I do that's going to have a positive impact for future generations? Instead of thinking about me as somebody who's making changes. I really see myself as just a placeholder, if you will, like we're just continuing the work that our ancestors were doing centuries ago. And we're just continuing those roles and hoping that, you know, whatever we're doing is going to have a positive effect.
So it's much less about the individual as it is about everybody who came before us and everybody who will come after us. So, no pressure whatsoever. No, but for real, I think that is really about just being really grateful for the sacrifices that our ancestors made who lost their lives, who who tried so hard to retain access to places in the coast that we cherish and continue to cherish and take care of. And they wanted us to have those access points that we don't have now. But it wasn't for lack of them trying, I guess is what I'm trying to say. We might not see it within our lifetimes, we might not see land return as we envision it in an ideal world within our lifetimes, but I think that, like I said earlier, it's the ripple effects from the work we do that kind of, like, disperse out. It's not any one, it's a collective.
Sikwani Dana: Last question, is there anything else that you would like to share?
Ann Pollard-Ranco: I think it's really kind of in the same spirit as what I was just talking about in terms of the collective. Just acknowledging that there are so many incredible individuals within our communities who are doing amazing work.
I think of Niweskok, I think of Nibezun, I think of Bomazeen Land Trust, and just these young, energetic organizers within our communities who are doing so much incredible work, but I also want to acknowledge Carol Dana, who has gifted me with so much and changed my life in such a positive way through our relationship.
I want to give gratitude for those teachers in my life and my parents who continue to be such inspiring people in their own right. My dad's such an amazing canoer. And through my relationship building with the coast and places of significance along the islands and those waterways, my dad's also had the opportunity to come paddle and a couple of summers ago paddled that ancestral canoe route of Horseshoe Cove that I was talking about earlier.
And my dad said something recently where he just, just how much that's impacted his life, having access to those places. And I don't know, that felt like such an incredible win, like, wow, I didn't even think of it that way, but I've been able to like gift my parents back a little bit. They gave so much and continue to give so much to me, that the fact that I was able to connect my dad with cool places to paddle meant so much to him–it meant the world to me.
And yeah, I am so grateful for all the people in my life who, like Sikwani who are so supportive. Yeah so, if I had to add anything, it'd just be so much gratitude.
Sikwani Dana: Thank you so much.
Ann Pollard-Ranco: kci-wə̀liwəni minač kənamiholpa. Thank you so much. We'll see you later.
This story was created and published in September-December 2024