“In today’s Canada, Aboriginal peoples enjoy renewed pride and confidence, and have made significant achievements in agriculture, the environment, business and the arts.”

I WANT to start this article of mine to express my whole-hearted gratitude to my “Unknown Aboriginal Friend.”

For without him, you might not read this article ever...

Why I said so?

You may definitely discern the reasons—if you continue to read this very inspirational and full of moral lessons article…

I know pretty well my Aboriginal Friend’s hearted-shape and good-looking face: oily-tanned—where those twin reddish eyes, sharp-pointed nose, and substantially carved-out lips planted with.

I can identify him also with his black; pony-tailed hair that is always wagging to the back of his head.

When I met him for the first time in winter 2010, I noticed that his back pack was with him already.

I was then working as a part time worker of a certain gas station in Downtown here in Red Deer.

One snowy evening, maybe, between 6:00 and 7:00 PM, with 25 degrees temperature, my male co-worker and I were busy in front of the tellers’ machines, when an “Aboriginal man” wanted to enter to the grocery store of the gas station.

My co-worker shouted at him not to enter inside or else he would call the RCMP.

He was in his mid-twenties. He looked-tired, shivered and hungry, and I know, he needed shelter to warm his body punished by the extreme cold outside; and foods to eat.

“I have money to buy food!” he shouted at back to my co-worker. He showed three loonies from his dirty and smelly winter jacket. He started to spit-fire expletive words.

My co-worker shouted invective words back at the Aboriginal man. “You go out or else, I call the police now!” He took the phone and started to dial.

The poor Aboriginal man immediately backed off.

He went to the right side of the grocery store and hid himself there, especially that there were two police mobile patrols arrived to fill gas.

“He has money, and you should let him in and buy for his foods,” I said to my co-worker. I pitied the homeless Aboriginal man, and I don’t want the way my co-worker treated him.

“You are a new worker here, and you don’t know anything about him,” my co-worker said. “He is always like that. He entered to the grocery, took lots of foods and put most of them in his big pockets and declared one or two items only to pay. I caught him many times, and he is already prohibited to enter here! He was incarcerated many times but still comes back to steal.”

I didn’t say anything anymore because there were lots of customers already.

But deep in my mind and heart, were there for the needy and homeless Aboriginal man.

I don’t know if my co-worker knew that the ancestors of this Aboriginal man are the original and founding human beings here in Canada.

They are like gold being treasured and protected by the government. For without them, the Canada’s history might be different.

I remember before I took and passed my Canadian Citizenship Exam on June 2, 2011, the Citizenship and Immigration Canada gave me a study guide, the “Discover Canada, The rights and Responsibilities of Citizenship.”

I found out that in order to understand what it means to be Canadian, it is important to know about our three founding peoples: Aboriginal, French and British.

I learned that the ancestors of Aboriginal Peoples are believed to have migrated from Asia many thousands of years ago.

They were well established here long before explorers from Europe first came to North America.

Diverse, vibrant First Nations cultures were rooted in religious beliefs about their relationships to the Creator, the natural environment and each other.

Aboriginal and treaty rights are in the Canadian Constitution.

Territorial rights were first guaranteed through the Royal Proclamation of 1763 by King George III and established the basis for negotiating treaties with the newcomers—treaties that were not always fully respected.

According to Canada’s history, from 1800s until the 1980s, the federal government place many Aboriginal children in residential schools to educate and assimilate them into mainstream Canadian culture.

The schools were poorly funded and inflicted hardship on the students; some students were physically abused.

Aboriginal languages and cultural practices were mostly prohibited.

In 2008, Ottawa formally apologized to the former students.

In today’s Canada, Aboriginal peoples enjoy renewed pride and confidence, and have made significant achievements in agriculture, the environment, business and the arts.

Now-a-day, the term Aboriginal Peoples refers to three distinct groups: Indian, Inuit and Métis.

Indian refers to all Aboriginal people who are not Inuit or Métis.

In the 1970s, the term “First Nations” begins to be used.

Today, about half of First Nations people live on reserve land in about 600 communities while the other half live off-reserved, mainly in urban centres.

The Inuit, which means, “the people” in the Inuktitut language, live in small, scattered communities across the Arctic.

Their knowledge of the land, sea and wildlife enabled them to adapt to one of the harshest environment on earth.

The Métis are a distinct people of mixed Aboriginal and European ancestry, the majority of whom live in the Prairie Provinces.

They come from both French- and English-speaking backgrounds and speak their own dialect, the Michif.

According to the statistics, about 65% of the Aboriginal people are First Nations, while 30% are Métis and 4% Inuit.

I am sure that my “Aboriginal Friend” belongs to the first distinct group—based on his look and color of his hair and skin.

As an Asian immigrant, my heart bellows, and pride prejudices for him and his ancestors.

That would be the real reason why I didn’t want him to be treated like shit, like what my co-worker ridiculously showed callous acts against him.

“He is also a human like us, buddy,” I said to my co-worker. “They are part of Canada’s history. Without him and his ancestors, especially those who speak Iroquoian, Canada’s name and its history might be different…”

I tried to explain him that the Iroquoian word “Kanata,” means “village”, where Canada took its name.

“And won’t you know that the name of Canada began appearing on maps by the 1550s?” I tried to lecture him with my little knowledge of Canada’s history. “Without these peoples, Canada might not have been explored and become the promise land, and nation of opportunities. You and I together with our respective families would not be here as immigrants… enjoying fully all these opportunities!”

“They should work, not only to wait for the monthly welfare from the government,” my co-worker said; visibly irritated with what I told him.

“That’s true,” agreed by a six-footer and bulky-body customer. “We, people of Canada, paying our taxes. Part of our taxes funded for their welfare…”

The two policemen entered to the grocery of the gas station and paid their gas.

My co-worker told to the officers-on-duty about the Aboriginal man.

“Please, make an eye on him, boss,” he said.

“Just call us if he creates trouble,” one of the officers said.

The police officers left.

We were very busy the next couple of minutes because of lots of customers.

That evening, there was news that the price of gas would soar high the next morning.

So the predilection, lots of customers would want to fill their vehicles with gas and diesel.

All of a sudden, we saw the Aboriginal man who immediately sneaked out from the grocery.

We were unaware when he entered.

He took lots of grocery items and wanted to steal them.

My co-worker instructed me to run after him.

I was hesitant. And I told him to do it by himself, instead.

He was upset at me.

“I’ll tell to the manager that you don’t even bother to protect the grocery,” he shouted at me.

Even for the first time since our boss introduced me to my co-worker, I didn’t want his attitude already.

I got irritated with his boastfulness and bossy-approach, and I told him: “Okay, tell him and I’ll tell him, too, how you acted like,” I said. “If he’ll get mad at us, I challenge you that we’ll resign together!”

He was truly barmy at me.

He chased the Aboriginal man, and told him to bring back all the grocery items he stole.

The Aboriginal man consumed in shrewdness way some of the food items already.

He was really much starved to death.

He brought back some of the items.

He was told by my co-worker to pay all the items, including those he ate.

But his three loonies were not enough for the grocery items.

My co-worker threatened him to call the police authorities.

I did not endure the way he was being treated, and I told to my co-worker that I would pay for all the items the native man stole.

“Grab some more and I’ll pay for you,” I told to the Aboriginal man.

The Aboriginal man was enthralled. He stared at me for a couple of seconds, and then he was very happy in grabbing some grocery items.

I paid more than thirty dollars for all the items.

Before he left, he told me: “Thank you, friend! You are a good Asian man!”

“You are welcome, buddy!” I said. “But next time, please, don’t steal again. Stealing is bad and it’s a sin…”

He just only smiled.

That was the first time we met each other.

I don’t know his name; he might not know my name either, though I had a name tag pinned in my uniform.

I just simply called him, “buddy!”

And he called me, “Good Asian Man!”

The second time I met him was when he tried to steal again in the gas station grocery. I was alone in the teller station.

“I’ll pay these, friend,” he said. “If you are not here, I steal again. If your co-worker is here, I’ll definitely steal again. I hate your co-worker. He is a jerk, unlike you that you are a good little Asian man.”

I laughed. “I know, you are a good man also, buddy. For that, I’ll pay again for you.” I used my credit card to pay for the grocery items.

He was always coming to “visit” the grocery of the gasoline station every time I had a shift.

So far, he didn’t try to steal during my shifts.

“You are a good Asian man, and I don’t want to steal in this store if you are working,” he always said.

But if my co-worker was working, he always stole from the grocery.

“He is a jerk, and I want to steal for retaliation during his working hours here,” he laughed.

That was the last time I saw him because I resigned from my work there after a week.

That was almost two years ago—if I am not mistaken.

NOT long time ago, we met again with my Aboriginal friend—this time, in a very bloodcurdling situation…

It was eleven that particular night already when my wife told me that we have to pay for our mortgages for our two houses.

We need to deposit money to the bank account intended for our mortgages that night.

The bank would automatically deduct the mortgage payments from the said account the next morning, and when my wife checked our account, we had shortage of fund.

“We need at least one-thousand dollars to deposit,” my wife told me.

My wife was working night shift—11:00 PM-7:00 AM—by that time.

I was alone doing the withdrawal from two of the banks in Red Deer Downtown.

I used two ATM cards because each card, I have $500.00 limits only to withdraw. I would deposit the monies intended for our mortgages in a bank across Wal-Mart in the north.

I entered alone in the ATM machine. The surroundings seemed very quiet; well-lighted places.

I was really very confident that nothing outrageous would happen.

I just withdrew the last $500.00, and self-assuredly went back to where I parked my car.

Suddenly, there was a man, looked-like an Aboriginal.

And with a pointed object in his right hand, he was asking money from me.

“I need money to buy foods and grass,” he said.

I was suddenly jolted; almost in panic mood.

But when I remembered that the monies in my pocket would be for our mortgages, I remonstrated; angrily squabbled inside.

“I can’t give you, buddy. This is for our mortgages…” I said.

He threatened to hurt me if I decline his request.

With those scary situations, I found myself in the defensive. I managed to sneak out from him and tried to enter into my car.

But there were two more Aboriginal men from the opposite street coming towards us. I presumed they acted as his look-out.

I cannot just give the money, I decided that in my mind.

It would be very important for our mortgages.

If I give to these peoples, our mortgages might be in jeopardy—and my family will become homeless.

I am a person whose heart is easily touched for the deprived, but not in that situation.

So, I decided to defend myself—and for the money.

I can sacrifice my life for it.

Immediately, my instinct as a self defense enthusiast emerged.

I studied the surrounding and situation in a blink of eyes.

There were three opponents, looked-like they were in the influenced of drugs and alcohol.

The first man was really making his mind up to stab me. He tried twice, but I was very agile and quicker to elude the killer stabs.

He stabbed me again for the third try.

But I managed to grab his hand with the knife, twisted his elbow against his back, and with simple foot-steps and push with a hard front kick on his butt, in a second, the man was writhing in pain on the ground.

And his knife was in my left hand already!

The two other men tried to attack me.

But I was in a fighting form already, aiming the knife at them and ready to slash their throats or rip their hearts out—if would come to worst.

They were not even shaken to me with the knife—rather persistent to attack me.

And then, all of a sudden, one of the men brought his buddy to a standstill.

“Don’t hurt him!” he shouted at him.

They talked with their own language for a while.

“Sorry, friend,” the third man said apologetically. “You are a good Asian man, and we should not do this ever to you!”

With the light from the electric post, I noticed his hearted-shape, oily-tanned and good-looking face—where those twin reddish eyes, sharp-pointed nose, and substantially carved-out lips planted with.

That face was familiar to me, but by that moment, I didn’t remember where I saw and met him.

He rallied round the first man off from the ground, and they left me alone; unharmed.

“I am sorry again, my friend!” the third man said once again before they waned-out from my sight in a dim and under construction street across the bank.

I was surprised with what happened—though less mitigated.

I heard sirens from the street where the three Aboriginal men went through.

In my mind, I prayed that they should not be captured, especially my good and “angel” unknown Aboriginal friend.

I threw the knife in the trash can nearby and immediately got inside my vehicle.

And as fastest I could—not even thinking if the policemen would chase me for over speeding that almost mid-night—I escaped that place towards the north. My Aboriginal Friend

“In today’s Canada, Aboriginal peoples enjoy renewed pride and confidence, and have made significant achievements in agriculture, the environment, business and the arts.”

I WANT to start this article of mine to express my whole-hearted gratitude to my “Unknown Aboriginal Friend.”

For without him, you might not read this article ever...

Why I said so?

You may definitely discern the reasons—if you continue to read this very inspirational and full of moral lessons article…

I know pretty well my Aboriginal Friend’s hearted-shape and good-looking face: oily-tanned—where those twin reddish eyes, sharp-pointed nose, and substantially carved-out lips planted with.

I can identify him also with his black; pony-tailed hair that is always wagging to the back of his head.

When I met him for the first time in winter 2010, I noticed that his back pack was with him already.

I was then working as a part time worker of a certain gas station in Downtown here in Red Deer.

One snowy evening, maybe, between 6:00 and 7:00 PM, with 25 degrees temperature, my male co-worker and I were busy in front of the tellers’ machines, when an “Aboriginal man” wanted to enter to the grocery store of the gas station.

My co-worker shouted at him not to enter inside or else he would call the RCMP.

He was in his mid-twenties. He looked-tired, shivered and hungry, and I know, he needed shelter to warm his body punished by the extreme cold outside; and foods to eat.

“I have money to buy food!” he shouted at back to my co-worker. He showed three loonies from his dirty and smelly winter jacket. He started to spit-fire expletive words.

My co-worker shouted invective words back at the Aboriginal man. “You go out or else, I call the police now!” He took the phone and started to dial.

The poor Aboriginal man immediately backed off.

He went to the right side of the grocery store and hid himself there, especially that there were two police mobile patrols arrived to fill gas.

“He has money, and you should let him in and buy for his foods,” I said to my co-worker. I pitied the homeless Aboriginal man, and I don’t want the way my co-worker treated him.

“You are a new worker here, and you don’t know anything about him,” my co-worker said. “He is always like that. He entered to the grocery, took lots of foods and put most of them in his big pockets and declared one or two items only to pay. I caught him many times, and he is already prohibited to enter here! He was incarcerated many times but still comes back to steal.”

I didn’t say anything anymore because there were lots of customers already.

But deep in my mind and heart, were there for the needy and homeless Aboriginal man.

I don’t know if my co-worker knew that the ancestors of this Aboriginal man are the original and founding human beings here in Canada.

They are like gold being treasured and protected by the government. For without them, the Canada’s history might be different.

I remember before I took and passed my Canadian Citizenship Exam on June 2, 2011, the Citizenship and Immigration Canada gave me a study guide, the “Discover Canada, The rights and Responsibilities of Citizenship.”

I found out that in order to understand what it means to be Canadian, it is important to know about our three founding peoples: Aboriginal, French and British.

I learned that the ancestors of Aboriginal Peoples are believed to have migrated from Asia many thousands of years ago.

They were well established here long before explorers from Europe first came to North America.

Diverse, vibrant First Nations cultures were rooted in religious beliefs about their relationships to the Creator, the natural environment and each other.

Aboriginal and treaty rights are in the Canadian Constitution.

Territorial rights were first guaranteed through the Royal Proclamation of 1763 by King George III and established the basis for negotiating treaties with the newcomers—treaties that were not always fully respected.

According to Canada’s history, from 1800s until the 1980s, the federal government place many Aboriginal children in residential schools to educate and assimilate them into mainstream Canadian culture.

The schools were poorly funded and inflicted hardship on the students; some students were physically abused.

Aboriginal languages and cultural practices were mostly prohibited.

In 2008, Ottawa formally apologized to the former students.

In today’s Canada, Aboriginal peoples enjoy renewed pride and confidence, and have made significant achievements in agriculture, the environment, business and the arts.

Now-a-day, the term Aboriginal Peoples refers to three distinct groups: Indian, Inuit and Métis.

Indian refers to all Aboriginal people who are not Inuit or Métis.

In the 1970s, the term “First Nations” begins to be used.

Today, about half of First Nations people live on reserve land in about 600 communities while the other half live off-reserved, mainly in urban centres.

The Inuit, which means, “the people” in the Inuktitut language, live in small, scattered communities across the Arctic.

Their knowledge of the land, sea and wildlife enabled them to adapt to one of the harshest environment on earth.

The Métis are a distinct people of mixed Aboriginal and European ancestry, the majority of whom live in the Prairie Provinces.

They come from both French- and English-speaking backgrounds and speak their own dialect, the Michif.

According to the statistics, about 65% of the Aboriginal people are First Nations, while 30% are Métis and 4% Inuit.

I am sure that my “Aboriginal Friend” belongs to the first distinct group—based on his look and color of his hair and skin.

As an Asian immigrant, my heart bellows, and pride prejudices for him and his ancestors.

That would be the real reason why I didn’t want him to be treated like shit, like what my co-worker ridiculously showed callous acts against him.

“He is also a human like us, buddy,” I said to my co-worker. “They are part of Canada’s history. Without him and his ancestors, especially those who speak Iroquoian, Canada’s name and its history might be different…”

I tried to explain him that the Iroquoian word “Kanata,” means “village”, where Canada took its name.

“And won’t you know that the name of Canada began appearing on maps by the 1550s?” I tried to lecture him with my little knowledge of Canada’s history. “Without these peoples, Canada might not have been explored and become the promise land, and nation of opportunities. You and I together with our respective families would not be here as immigrants… enjoying fully all these opportunities!”

“They should work, not only to wait for the monthly welfare from the government,” my co-worker said; visibly irritated with what I told him.

“That’s true,” agreed by a six-footer and bulky-body customer. “We, people of Canada, paying our taxes. Part of our taxes funded for their welfare…”

The two policemen entered to the grocery of the gas station and paid their gas.

My co-worker told to the officers-on-duty about the Aboriginal man.

“Please, make an eye on him, boss,” he said.

“Just call us if he creates trouble,” one of the officers said.

The police officers left.

We were very busy the next couple of minutes because of lots of customers.

That evening, there was news that the price of gas would soar high the next morning.

So the predilection, lots of customers would want to fill their vehicles with gas and diesel.

All of a sudden, we saw the Aboriginal man who immediately sneaked out from the grocery.

We were unaware when he entered.

He took lots of grocery items and wanted to steal them.

My co-worker instructed me to run after him.

I was hesitant. And I told him to do it by himself, instead.

He was upset at me.

“I’ll tell to the manager that you don’t even bother to protect the grocery,” he shouted at me.

Even for the first time since our boss introduced me to my co-worker, I didn’t want his attitude already.

I got irritated with his boastfulness and bossy-approach, and I told him: “Okay, tell him and I’ll tell him, too, how you acted like,” I said. “If he’ll get mad at us, I challenge you that we’ll resign together!”

He was truly barmy at me.

He chased the Aboriginal man, and told him to bring back all the grocery items he stole.

The Aboriginal man consumed in shrewdness way some of the food items already.

He was really much starved to death.

He brought back some of the items.

He was told by my co-worker to pay all the items, including those he ate.

But his three loonies were not enough for the grocery items.

My co-worker threatened him to call the police authorities.

I did not endure the way he was being treated, and I told to my co-worker that I would pay for all the items the native man stole.

“Grab some more and I’ll pay for you,” I told to the Aboriginal man.

The Aboriginal man was enthralled. He stared at me for a couple of seconds, and then he was very happy in grabbing some grocery items.

I paid more than thirty dollars for all the items.

Before he left, he told me: “Thank you, friend! You are a good Asian man!”

“You are welcome, buddy!” I said. “But next time, please, don’t steal again. Stealing is bad and it’s a sin…”

He just only smiled.

That was the first time we met each other.

I don’t know his name; he might not know my name either, though I had a name tag pinned in my uniform.

I just simply called him, “buddy!”

And he called me, “Good Asian Man!”

The second time I met him was when he tried to steal again in the gas station grocery. I was alone in the teller station.

“I’ll pay these, friend,” he said. “If you are not here, I steal again. If your co-worker is here, I’ll definitely steal again. I hate your co-worker. He is a jerk, unlike you that you are a good little Asian man.”

I laughed. “I know, you are a good man also, buddy. For that, I’ll pay again for you.” I used my credit card to pay for the grocery items.

He was always coming to “visit” the grocery of the gasoline station every time I had a shift.

So far, he didn’t try to steal during my shifts.

“You are a good Asian man, and I don’t want to steal in this store if you are working,” he always said.

But if my co-worker was working, he always stole from the grocery.

“He is a jerk, and I want to steal for retaliation during his working hours here,” he laughed.

That was the last time I saw him because I resigned from my work there after a week.

That was almost two years ago—if I am not mistaken.

NOT long time ago, we met again with my Aboriginal friend—this time, in a very bloodcurdling situation…

It was eleven that particular night already when my wife told me that we have to pay for our mortgages for our two houses.

We need to deposit money to the bank account intended for our mortgages that night.

The bank would automatically deduct the mortgage payments from the said account the next morning, and when my wife checked our account, we had shortage of fund.

“We need at least one-thousand dollars to deposit,” my wife told me.

My wife was working night shift—11:00 PM-7:00 AM—by that time.

I was alone doing the withdrawal from two of the banks in Red Deer Downtown.

I used two ATM cards because each card, I have $500.00 limits only to withdraw. I would deposit the monies intended for our mortgages in a bank across Wal-Mart in the north.

I entered alone in the ATM machine. The surroundings seemed very quiet; well-lighted places.

I was really very confident that nothing outrageous would happen.

I just withdrew the last $500.00, and self-assuredly went back to where I parked my car.

Suddenly, there was a man, looked-like an Aboriginal.

And with a pointed object in his right hand, he was asking money from me.

“I need money to buy foods and grass,” he said.

I was suddenly jolted; almost in panic mood.

But when I remembered that the monies in my pocket would be for our mortgages, I remonstrated; angrily squabbled inside.

“I can’t give you, buddy. This is for our mortgages…” I said.

He threatened to hurt me if I decline his request.

With those scary situations, I found myself in the defensive. I managed to sneak out from him and tried to enter into my car.

But there were two more Aboriginal men from the opposite street coming towards us. I presumed they acted as his look-out.

I cannot just give the money, I decided that in my mind.

It would be very important for our mortgages.

If I give to these peoples, our mortgages might be in jeopardy—and my family will become homeless.

I am a person whose heart is easily touched for the deprived, but not in that situation.

So, I decided to defend myself—and for the money.

I can sacrifice my life for it.

Immediately, my instinct as a self defense enthusiast emerged.

I studied the surrounding and situation in a blink of eyes.

There were three opponents, looked-like they were in the influenced of drugs and alcohol.

The first man was really making his mind up to stab me. He tried twice, but I was very agile and quicker to elude the killer stabs.

He stabbed me again for the third try.

But I managed to grab his hand with the knife, twisted his elbow against his back, and with simple foot-steps and push with a hard front kick on his butt, in a second, the man was writhing in pain on the ground.

And his knife was in my left hand already!

The two other men tried to attack me.

But I was in a fighting form already, aiming the knife at them and ready to slash their throats or rip their hearts out—if would come to worst.

They were not even shaken to me with the knife—rather persistent to attack me.

And then, all of a sudden, one of the men brought his buddy to a standstill.

“Don’t hurt him!” he shouted at him.

They talked with their own language for a while.

“Sorry, friend,” the third man said apologetically. “You are a good Asian man, and we should not do this ever to you!”

With the light from the electric post, I noticed his hearted-shape, oily-tanned and good-looking face—where those twin reddish eyes, sharp-pointed nose, and substantially carved-out lips planted with.

That face was familiar to me, but by that moment, I didn’t remember where I saw and met him.

He rallied round the first man off from the ground, and they left me alone; unharmed.

“I am sorry again, my friend!” the third man said once again before they waned-out from my sight in a dim and under construction street across the bank.

I was surprised with what happened—though less mitigated.

I heard sirens from the street where the three Aboriginal men went through.

In my mind, I prayed that they should not be captured, especially my good and “angel” unknown Aboriginal friend.

I threw the knife in the trash can nearby and immediately got inside my vehicle.

And as fastest I could—not even thinking if the policemen would chase me for over speeding that almost mid-night—I escaped that place towards the north.

I managed to deposit the money for our mortgages before mid-night.

I was about to fall asleep after midnight when out of the blue, I realized who was the third Aboriginal man who pacified his buddies not to hurt me.

It was my unknown “Aboriginal friend!”

Wherever he is, I thanked him—again and again—for the intrepid deed he orchestrated for me.

If not for him: if not in the prison, I might have been in the cemetery; or in ashes of jar--now!