我回憶起第一天上學的情景。我們村落裡沒有幼兒園或類似的機構，所以那是我首度與這麼多人互動的經驗。學校充滿了活潑、躁動不安的孩子、他們思想保守的家長（當時維多利亞保守主義仍盛行）和戴著眼鏡的老師們。整體來說非常超現實，對於我這個涉世未深的孩子而言。我記得金色和白色：金髮、淺黃色衣衫和滾邊亮色洋裝。但出乎意料地，一片亮色當中出現了幾位淺膚色的人。那天很暖和，冬天的影子都還沒見到呢。

當時高傲又溫柔專制的政府決定在那一年將印地安人口「融入」公民社會─也就是白人社會─當中。這些孩子年紀由六至十一歲不等，且全都是大塊頭。相較之下我是個嬌小又害羞的男孩。他們外型特殊，很有異國風味，活脫像古挪威人般。我有了可以仔細觀察的對象，面對這些有如維京人的意象，我時常天馬行空地想像著。至今仍令我困惑的一件事，就是當時我們全被編到一年級。你可以想像那個混亂又令人不解的情境。我們的老師同樣感到困擾，導致無法有效管理這個班級。

那是一個提倡「愛的教育」的時代，對這群新客人而言，老師的規勸比起神父的體罰，簡直有如蚊子聲音般弱小。這樣被推進了一個截然不同的世界中，得不到同理心和關愛，結果是他們一個個消失了，最後沒有一個順利在十二年後完成學業。

我想分享一個奇特的經驗。在一個晴朗的春日，我放學回家，看見一位原住民青年坐在我家餐桌前。那時候我父母都是很正式、很虔誠的人，而且生活圈也侷限於教會或我父親的生意夥伴。我問：「這孩子是誰？」母親解釋，她載我們上學後，發現人行道旁一名男孩摔了下來。他已經四天沒吃飯了。為什麼呢？本地法官將他父親判刑入獄，而孩子的監護人卻怠忽職守。

這是何等不公義。我們一直聽說加拿大是世上最好的國家，然而眼前卻發生這種事。

在偶然的機會下，我替法官家的草坪除草，也結識她母親。我穿上百貨公司買到的上等西裝去訪，當年我十二歲。她慎重其事地在客廳接待我。那個年代大多數人的家都很大，飯廳與客廳只會為非常特別的聚會開放。舉我家為例，我們就曾在精心布置的房間招待過區域主教。我一直記得我親吻他的戒指─這對一個孩子來說是多麼難以忘懷的印象。法官專注地聆聽我的訴求。當一個孩子不被妥善照護，又何來尊嚴與自由可言？法官迂迴地解釋道，法律並不總依循正義，是以普通法為準。那天真是上了難忘的一課。

我直到十八歲才去了印地安領地，那些通常被劃為「保護區」，像國家公園一樣的概念。當時已經有電視與多元的廣播，也有電信網路。1970年代世界開始排擠南非─這是個多麼可怕又充滿歧見的政府。

中學畢業後，我休息一年，到一家電視音響店當業務，基於年輕人的熱情，我做得非常好。許多客戶是印地安人，其中一位很不幸地無法支付每月款項，所以我們必須收回他的電視。我帶了家中兄弟去當我的幫手，去到保護區後才發現那裏的社會形況低落到令人難以置信。或許一直號稱可包容困苦原住民的加拿大，並不是世上最好的國家─想想台灣。第十四世達賴喇嘛丹增嘉措曾說：我們僅需一個好的動機。同理心沒有教條主義，也沒有艱深的哲理。僅需理解你手足般的同類，尊重他們的權利與尊嚴。互相扶持，是人類最獨特的能力。

本週也好好訓練自己思考吧，這世界不會給愚昧的人機會。

每天試著尋找生活中神奇、美麗的事物。

 

My mind falls back to my first day of school. We had no pre-school or kindergarten in my village, so this was my first interaction with so many people. The schoolyard was filled to overflowing with bubbling and vibrant children, their stoic parents (Victorian conservatism was still much in vogue) and a phalanx of bespectacled teachers: everything felt surreal—I was a very sheltered child. I remember blond and fair: blond hair, light blond clothes and billowy blond dresses But, shockingly, amongst this white throng were pockets of brown skin. The day was very warm; winter had yet to show her jagged teeth.

The condescending and paternalistic government of the day had decided that this was the year to “integrate” the Indian population into civil society, i.e. the mostly white population. These adolescents varied in ages from six to eleven and all were big people. I, on the other hand, was a small, shy child. They looked like strange and exotic Norsemen from days of old: I had a collection of Viking picture books and I was constantly perusing them—my imagination was running wild. In a decision that defines rationality and still puzzles me to this day, all of us were grouped together in Grade One. You can just imagine the chaos and confusion. Our teacher was totally flummoxed as how to bring discipline to the class: she couldn’t.

This was a time of, “Spare the rod and spoil the child”: to our new guests, her blows felt like mosquito stings in comparison to thecorporeal punishment meted out by the priests. The net result of this thrust into a monstrous new world (that seemingly had no love and compassion) was withdrawal, either spiritual or physical: they slowly disappeared: not one graduated 12 years later.

I had one stunning experience that I would like to share. On one fine spring day, I arrived home from school to see a young native boy sitting at our kitchen table. Now, my parents were formal, religious people and their circle of friends was limited to the church and my father’s business associates. “Who is this child?” I inquired. My mother went on to explain that she was driving home from leaving us at school and this boy fell off the sidewalk onto the street. He had not eaten for four days. Why? The local judge had sentenced his father to jail and his guardian was a social derelict.

What injustice: we had been told that Canada was the best country in the world. How could this be so?

By chance, I cut her lawn and, for added cache, the Judge’s mother was my friend. I put on my best Co-op Department Store suit and went to her home: I was twelve years old. She received me very graciously into her living room. Most homes of this era were quite large and only reserved the dining and living rooms for extremely special occasions. We, for example, used our well-decorated room once when God came is the form of the regional bishop. I always remember kissing his ring: a tremendous impression for a child. Judge Paxton listened intently as I pleaded my case. Where was the dignity and liberty for a child when he was not being properly cared for? The magistrate pedantically explained that the implementation of the law did not always dispense justice: it followed Common Law. It was a memorable lesson in the realities of life.

I did not visit an Indian area, labeled rather pejoratively as “a reserve”–think Kruger National Park, until I was almost 18 years old. By this time, we had television and a diversified radio, and telecommunications network. In the 1970s the world was ostracizing South Africa: this horrible racist government.

After high school, I took a “gap year” and worked in a television and stereo store: I was a salesman and I was very, very good (youthful enthusiasm). Many of my customers were Indian. One unfortunate soul could not keep up his monthly payments. We had to seize or repossess his television. I took one of my brothers as an assistant. The reserve was in South Africa not Canada. The sickening social conditions were unbelievable. Maybe, in the end, Canada for the poor, the unwashed and the indigenous was not the best country in the world—think Taiwan. Tenzin Gyatso, the Dalai Lama (B. 1935), leaves us with a thought: A good motivation is what is needed: compassion without dogmatism, without complicated philosophy; just understanding that others are human brothers and sisters and respecting their human rights and dignities. That we humans can help each other is one of our unique human capacities.

This week, please practice your thinking skills: the world does not respect stupidity.

Every day look for something magical and beautiful