As told by Nick Huard
When I go to Europe, I put my hair inside my hat and I hide my medicine bag. That’s so they don’t recognize me because they could be problematic sometimes.
On a shoot here in Canada, a co-production with France, there was a special scene shot in an old village in Rawdon. Just as a scene is about to begin, the French assistant director comes up to me and touches my medicine bag and says, “Oh, that is an Indian thing! You have to take me to your community! I have read everything about you.”
He was insulted that when we landed, we didn’t pick him up with dogs and sleds. I’m sure he got all of his information from Lucky Luke.
Another time, when I was staying at the George V hotel in Paris, I caught the room service woman taking the hair out of my hairbrush.
She saw me and said to me, “My son loves the redskins. Can I take some of your hair home for him?”
In Europe, we’re almost revered. And here, we’re the low citizens.
I’m not a poodle that you can show off. They think they’re on top of the pyramid and whatever’s below is for them to have.
Written by: Emma McLaughlin, Local Journalism Initiative Reporter
Translation by: Katsenhaién:ton Lazare
