A BRITON’S PERSPECTIVE :
My journey from ignorance to friendship and a healing truth.

by Jeremy Board

St. Albans, England

In 1996, at the age of 26, I walked into a travel agent in St Albans, England, where I was living, and bought a flight to Toronto and a three (3) month Greyhound Bus Pass. I had decided to return to the land where I had been born and raised as a boy, Canada, to rediscover my roots and from there explore North America. At the age of 8 my family had left Canada to return to England. Having been bullied in English schools, for having a Canadian accent, I felt like I was happily returning home. I was excited about the possibility of seeing where I grew up. I was excited about seeing the big land of Canada. I was excited about meeting a real Indian, similar to the Indians I had seen in the movies “Little Big Man” and “Dances with Wolves”. So I headed off with my backpack and camera to see what I would see.

Almost 20 years later, in 2015, I look back in complete astonishment at how little I really understood, how ignorant I had been, how the truth had been completely hidden from me.

Greyhound Bus

My first awakening came, in that year of 1996, when I first took the Greyhound Bus around North America. On the first leg of my journey, I set off from Montreal to Banff into the Canadian Rockies. It was a long journey that took 3 nights and 4 days, I slept on the bus. I met an assortment of fascinating characters on the Greyhound bus, a cross section of Canadian Society. As we approached Indian Head in Saskatchewan two Indian men with long dark hair, in ponytails, got on the bus and went and sat at the back. I suddenly felt very excited, this was the first time I had seen real Indians. They started drinking heavily at the back of the bus and the bus driver stopped the bus in the middle of the night and told them to get off or he would call the Police, in the middle of nowhere?

I felt confused and sad, other people on the bus explained to me that Indian people were in a bad way. The bus kept travelling and at about 3 a.m. we stopped to pick up a truck driver, a man named Monty, who’s truck rig had broken down by the side of the road, he got on the bus with a briefcase and sat next to me. He was annoyed about his truck, but we had a great conversation. I spoke about the two Indian men who had been thrown off the bus and said to him “It’s sad what has happened to Indians”. He replied to me “What are you talking about man, I’m an Indian! I’m Métis!” I was completely confused, I did not know what Métis was or meant and could not really say it properly, he showed me his Indian card. We talked for many more miles, he told me about his wife who was from Switzerland.

Lake Peyto

During the following days, in the Canadian Rockies, I accepted that my romantic visions had just been thrown to the wind, I felt silly really. I had just seen two Indians get thrown off the bus and had met an Indian truck driver who was married to a woman from Switzerland? This did not fit into my movie made vision of what life would be like. I spent some time hiking in the rocky mountains and from there got back onto the Greyhound bus to continue my journey to Vancouver, British Columbia. This was the place I really wanted to explore, I had heard it was so beautiful and wild.

Arriving, in Vancouver, at the Greyhound bus station I immediately saw many more Indian people who seemed to be in a terrible condition. They looked unhappy, spiritually damaged, dirty and hungry. I was completely shocked and confused. I could not understand what had happened here? When I asked the European people in Vancouver why the Indians were like this, they seemed to shrug it off “it’s just the way they are”. Their answers seemed incomplete and unsympathetic, they did not seem to know why. I spent a couple of weeks more on Vancouver Island and at the end of June, 1996, I travelled south to the United States, where the situation was the same, if not worse.

I circled North America on the Greyhound bus that summer visiting every major City along the way. I then returned to England where I continued my life working in Central London, until late 1997, when, tired of the rat race, I moved to Rennes, France to become a photographer. It was in France that I kept thinking of Vancouver. I went to Paris, to the Canadian Embassy and discovered that I could live in Canada as I had been born there. I received a Canadian passport and moved to Vancouver in the spring of 1998.

Vancouver, 1998

Arriving in Vancouver, in 1998, I guess I was less shocked by the condition of Indigenous people I saw, as I had seen it before. I went about the business of life, getting myself settled into an apartment, job, community. Like many new arrivals here, I am ashamed to say, that my main focus, in relation to First Nations (a new term I learnt at that time) was not to focus on them, to ignore them. Faced with my own life challenges, I started attending the Anglican Church of Canada in Vancouver for spiritual guidance, since I had been raised Anglican in England. Then at a communion service one day my second awakening came to me.

Christ Church Cathedral

The priest, during his sermon, made an announcement about major financial concerns for the Church due to settlement payments relating to the ‘Residential Schools’. What were ‘Residential Schools’ I thought? Everyone seemed to know, except for me, so I researched and found out. I couldn’t believe what I learnt, the pain and abuse that had been caused was terrible. I came to reflect that for two years, I had been attending, without knowing it, one of the church groups, along with the Roman Catholic Church who had perpetrated this terrible injustice in Canada. I felt disgusted and immediately left the Anglican Church of Canada in 2001 and have not returned since. I felt deep shame, this was not the Anglican Church I knew and had grown up in. I felt deep anger that they had committed these acts.

My life continued in Vancouver from 2001 to the end of 2013, in a bubble of denial, taking care of the business of life, paying bills and working. I joined the majority, who felt sympathy toward First Nations people but neither understood or really knew them. It was simply more comfortable to ignore the truth, a perspective justified by the fact that the truth was not really known anyways. Occasionally I would find myself in places where First Nations dances or ceremonies were taking place, but again, like the majority, I would treat their presence as some form of distant tourist attraction. My only indigenous contact during this time was with Ann Whonnock from the Squamish Nation, who I had conversations with, while working evenings in a Wine Store. She had shared with me the ancient stories of her people, which I became very interested in. Ann is a really wonderful person.

Then at the beginning of January 2013, everything changed in a third awakening. I had heard of this project called the Enbridge Northern Gateway, it immediately seemed like a really dumb idea to me, so I went to a meeting and took part in a protest, my video is below. During this action, I met and saw some really inspiring and brave Indigenous people. People who were Idle no More. People who were unafraid to confront this project. I was proud and inspired to march with them. Their voice was the voice of truth and integrity.

As I got more involved, taking part in Zack Embree’s amazing UberDrop, a Pipeline Die in, I began to care more deeply about things. I began to meet and see real Indigenous people, people with real lives, real history, real issues. I began to get a glimpse of the truth. Like a salmon, it captured my attention, with a flash of silver in the river. I began to make real friendships with Indigenous people, invited them over to my place. I went over to their place, watched TV together, had dinner together. They shared lovely smoked salmon with me. I became friends with indigenous people. I began to understand a lot more about the living life of indigenous people. I continued protesting against the Enbridge Northern Gateway, making a solemn oath to stop this project. I saw the family of Chief Dan George, the same Chief Dan George I had seen in “Little Big Man” dancing and singing with such joy and strength.

Chief Rueben George

My fourth awakening, which finally led me to becoming fully awake, happened on Burnaby Mountain. I had heard that some brave people had built a resistance camp up on the mountain and that now Kinder Morgan was going to come into the mountain and drill. I headed up to the mountain, I marched in protest up the mountain. I witnessed illegal arrests being made and published my videos of these arrests. I heard Audrey Siegl, Chief Rueben George (Chief Dan George’s grandson!) and Khelsilem speak. I heard Sut-lut speak, her story touched me deeply. I got involved and through that involvement one day I ended up in a facebook discussion with Dan Wallace, a hereditary Chief of the Lekwiktaich Nation.

In conversation with Dan, he called me a Settler, it was an uncomfortable moment. I was completely confused AGAIN, suddenly I was back on the Greyhound bus in 1996 sitting next to Monty, realizing that what I thought I knew was not the full picture. I’m a Settler? This was a perspective I had never considered, incredible as this may sound now. At first I was taken aback in resistance. I’m not a Settler, I thought, or am I? I carefully considered Dan’s words and came to the conclusion, that he was completely right, I was a Settler upon Indigenous land, it’s the truth. My discomfort with this truth was really a reflection of my own delusion that I was living upon my own Native land. It was not easy to accept at first, but then this truth kind of electrified my brain, it was like someone had finally turned the light switch on. I was out of the dark and the truth had been given to me. A truth, which to everyone in Canada hopefully now seems so obvious, had mysteriously landed in my lap. I immediately felt an inspiration and obligation to share this truth with other Settlers and to expand the overall search for other truths.

The next day I went onto the Internet and looked to see if the URL : settlersinfo.org was taken, to my amazement it wasn’t, so I bought it. I shared this fact with the Burnaby Mountain group. Then someone suggested I should acquire them all, settlersinfo.com, settlersinfo.ca, settlersinfo.net, settlersinfo,info, which is what I then did next, I bought them all, not for me, for the project. I spent my Christmas Holiday, 2014 developing a discussion paper for a new project, which I decided to call The Settlers info project. I then shared this with numerous groups and community members to gather feedback and input. I started a facebook page, called Settlers info, to open up discussion, which started with one member, me. I started drawing up technical plans for a new Web site. There were some immediate debates about whether Settlers was the correct term, but the consensus was that yes, it was correct. Some people immediately told me that the site would never be built, that the project would never start. I was determined it would.

Some amazing people, including Yaulthmuk Hacumiss, Stephen Kelland, Dan Wallace and many more immediately took the project under their wings. I was amazed and deeply moved by this. In early March, 2015, the Settlers info project and Web site was launched. The response was unbelievable, the traffic to the Web site was incredible from all over the world. We had opened the doors on the truth, a truth that we all needed to share and understand. Yaulthmuk agreed to be the Editor for the site, this was critical as the information we were sharing is the truth from an Indigenous perspective. It is a truth that Settlers, including myself, simply did not understand, we couldn’t, until we truly listened to Indigenous people. Everything on the Settlers info project Web site would be the truth spoken from an Indigenous perspective, nothing would be allowed on the site that did not speak this truth. The facebook page would become the forum for truly open and honest discussion. Conversations that had never happened between Indigenous and Settler people began in good faith.

We had thrown open the doors of the truth and it came flooding through. For the first few months I could barely keep up with amount of content that was being shared. I worked through the night on many occasions to share the truth being shared from across Turtle Island. It was a mind blowing, overwhelming and transformative time for everyone involved. A time that everyone involved should be very proud of.

The facts and injustices about what had happened and unfortunately continue to happen to Indigenous people were now on full display for the entire world to see. By August, 2015, the Settlers info project had received over 16,500 views, the majority of each individual view being for 30 mins+, which is off the charts for Web site engagement. The Web site has now been viewed in 100 countries around the world and is the #1 Web site in the world for Settlers info. Canadians now had a place to visit to learn the truth and to; consider whether they were a Settler, understand Residential Schools, understand Native land, understand the 60’s scoop, hear first hand from Indigenous leaders, develop a deep understanding of real Indigenous people and engage in real live conversation with Indigenous people.

I thought back to sitting next to Monty on the Greyhound bus, I had come so far in my journey of understanding, I could now see what had happened to Indigenous people upon Turtle Island. I wanted to rest now upon this truth, BUT, there was one part of the full truth, a healing truth, that I knew as a Briton I had to address. I needed to journey more deeply into the truth, this time on my own. I needed to help answer the question, why? Why had the abuse by Canada, upon Indigenous people, happened? The why.

As anyone who has endured abuse knows, understanding what happened helps but why something happened heals. The why answer frees the mind to come to terms with the abuse and to truly restore well-being. My understanding and love for my indigenous friends now meant that I needed to complete this part of the search for truth. I knew immediately, it would likely lead to personal attacks and castigation from both Indigenous and Settler people, as I shared this bitter truth, which has now already happened. It would most likely lead to myself being ostracized within the community of Indigenous allies, which has already happened. However, it was a healing truth that I am duty bound to share as I know it to be true.

You see, before returning to Canada in 1996, I had grown up (aged 8-28) in Britain. I knew the history, people, and thinking of Briton’s very intimately, I am one. I am the great grandson of a Colonel of the British Empire. I am the great Grandson (x14) of King Henry VII, who’s Royal Commission had sent the first Italian explorer, John Cabot, to Turtle Island. I had also grown up upon the remains of the savage oppression put upon Briton’s by the Roman Empire. I had experienced the differences between the Upper Class in Britain and regular people in Britain.

I knew there was a deeper truth, which explained the injustices upon indigenous people here. I had intuitively always known it, but having now opened the doors of truth, I had to explore this truth and share it in good faith with my Indigenous friends.

My mother has had this poem in our family home, an embroidery she made, since I was a child. It speaks a truth understood by Mothers everywhere. Children are born innocent, they learn what they live. Families learn what they live. Communities learn what they live. Nations learn what they live. The entire world learns what it lives. We are fundamentally connected by karma and the way in which we think, speak, act and treat each other.

There was a time in Britain, when Briton’s did not even know what a City was. There was a time when Briton’s lived an Indigenous life that was very similar to the Indigenous life on Turtle Island. There was a time when Briton’s were deeply connected to nature and to the land. A time when we lived in tribes, when we deeply appreciated the seasons, the sun, the moon. There was a time when we lived in reverence to the underworld. There was no hell. This was the time of Queen Boudica, before the Romans arrived.

During the 367 years of the brutal Roman military occupation of Britain, the Roman Army, through the direct orders of Emperor Nero – 666 – The Beast of Rome, slaughtered our Druids, our Spiritual and Intellectual leaders, the keepers of our oral tradition and knowledge. 25,000 Roman soldiers was sent to the Island of Anglesey to kill all of our Druids, who were unarmed and defended themselves by shouting at the Roman Soldiers. Emperor Nero ordered the killing of Queen Boudica and her army of 230,000 Briton Rebels. After the defeat of Queen Boudica, the Romans built many roads and military bases, which still exist in Britain today. Britons were split into two groups, those the Romans selected to become part of the UPPER CLASS, the Ruling Elite, about 10% of the population and those who would become slaves. 90% of Briton’s were sent into slavery, for hundreds of years enduring flogging, crucifixion and being sent to die in the collosium in Rome.

The Roman Empire completely decimated the language, culture and life of Indigenous Britain. Our connection to the land and to the underworld was replaced with the concept of hell. Our spiritual practices of connecting to the seasons, the sun and moon were cleverly overlaid upon and replaced with the religion of Christianity. A belief system we were eventually able to use to defeat the Romans themselves.

The Romans destroyed the culture and ancient ways of Britain so completely that even today, in 2015, the majority of Britons don’t even know we existed before the Romans. There are still deep divisions between the Upper Class and regular people. Thousands of ancient sites, that existed before the Romans, cover our landscape and most of them remain a complete mystery to Briton’s living today. Upper class parents still send their children away to boarding schools. After 367 years of brutal military occupation we were left with only a few threads of our past.

Roman Britain can still be seen everywhere in Britain today. The cities they built (e.g. London, St. Albans, Portsmouth), the roads, their belief systems, their fears, their military oppression is part of the fabric of living British life today. The map below shows Britain in 410 AD, the year the Romans left Britain, it shows the Roman cities, regions and roads overlaid on top of the names of the original Indigenous tribes of Britain e.g. Iceni, Dumnonii.

After the Romans left, Britain was vulnerable to another invasion which came from the Anglo-Saxons in the East of England, this invasion would also have a major impact upon England. Then came the Norman Invasion, from the Anglo-Saxon people again, this time via Northern France. In total, Britain has been invaded 27 times.

For many Britons, there was always a great waiting and hoping for a time when a great British military leader would come who would truly defend our land. A man who would fully draw upon the ancient strength of our ancestors, a man who would right the ancient scale of justice.

This man came to us in the form of Sir Winston Churchill, a Druid, voted again recently as the greatest Briton to have ever lived. Sir Winston Churchill, was Queen Elizabeth II’s first Prime Minister. He was, as in the story of Queen Boudica, her Druid. Sir Winston Churchill called upon all the power of all of our ancestors to destroy two ancient enemies, Italy (Romans) and Germany (Anglo-Saxons).

Finally, we had released the wrath of our ancestors, we unleashed the British Bulldog. Sir Winston Churchill gave us victory over our final invader. The revenge we had been unable to resist, for over a thousand years, had been delivered. Years later, when Sir Winston Churchill passed away millions of Briton’s stood in a solemn display of respect and gratitude that has never been seen since. By then, the United Nations had been formed, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights had been created. There was a great hope that World War II was the war to end all wars.

Before the arrival of Sir Winston Churchill, during another time, the Golden age (the reign of the Tudors), King Henry VIII ended our allegiance and obedience to the Roman Catholic Church in 1534, 1,124 years after the Romans had left Britain. His daughter Queen Elizabeth I’s reign is remembered as a time of happiness and joy, the Golden Age. However, as the years marched forward, it was evident that much of the painful hurt, injury to Briton’s was still there below the surface. The division between the Ruling Elite, Upper Class and the “Commoners”, as they still call regular Britons, was/is still very much alive.

We enter the time of Queen Victoria and the rise of the British Empire. The Upper Class, Ruling Elite decided that it was their time to copy the colonization concept of the Roman Empire. Victorian Politicians saw themselves as Roman Soldiers, heading out to civilize the world. They even constructed statues of themselves dressed up as Roman soldiers in the Foreign Office building constructed during Queen Victoria’s reign. This can be seen in a rare view inside the Victorian British Foreign Office, in the video below (4:02 to 4:20 mins). The abused finally became the abuser. Children learn what they live. Victorian politicians dressed up as Roman soldiers, the same Roman soldiers who had brutalized and murdered so many Britons.

In “British Columbia”, we became the colonizer during the expansion of our British Empire, our copy of the Roman Empire. We built Roman roads here, using the Roman grid system. We executed residential schools to educate the “savages” as the Roman’s had called us. We used military power to oppress another people as the Romans had done to us. In effect, we duplicated everything we had been taught. We hurt an innocent people, like we had been hurt. The abused had finally become the abuser. The wrath of Queen Boudica had been misdirected to justify and lead this abuse.

The truth is the name Victoria means Boudica, it is the same name in our Indigenous Celtic language, the language we spoke before the Romans. The statue at the top of this page, is of Queen Boudica. It was commissioned for Queen Victoria by her husband Prince Albert, in 1860, the same time Briton’s decided to call the Capital of British Columbia, Victoria. Prince Albert used his own horses to model the statue of Queen Boudica. Queen Victoria’s generation embraced the wrath of Queen Boudica, but misdirected it to hurt innocent people. At this time in “British Columbia” Joseph Trutch, a man who had failed in New York, seized upon this mood and time to betray the spirit of the two row wampum and illegally steal and give away Indigenous lands to Settlers to garner favour with them.

All through this time though, deep in the heart of every Briton an ancient truth kept shining through. The Indigenous people here were more like our own ancestors, than we were ourselves. Their Chiefs reminded us of our Chieftains, in ancient memory. Their indigenous connection and understanding of the land and nature expressed a wisdom we had been severed from when our Druids were all slaughtered. We were transfixed by their singing, dancing and ceremony. However, the abused could not stop abusing and hurting the Indigenous people of Turtle Island. Desperately sad and wrong as it is to admit, we actually somehow wanted and needed Indigenous people to know and reflect upon our own pain, without spoken word, as we were completely lost and disconnected from our ancestors, our land, our nature and our true spirituality. The abused had become the abuser.

Our past lost, there seemed to be no way out of this complex web of pain, ignorance and fear.
Search as we did for our ancestors, all we manifested was more pain.

Then along came the Internet, a great gift for humanity, invented by a Briton. We all know now what happened and we all know now WHY these injustices occurred.

The reality is Indigenous people and Briton’s are still both recovering from some of the worst injustices any people have ever had to endure. Briton’s are all still picking up the pieces of our past. Only recently have Indigenous people upon Turtle Island started to heal from the abuse they endured. Only recently have people in Britain started turning back to the Druid ways, reconnecting to the land and nature. Only recently are people learning about how the Romans oppressed Britons through the Christian religion and how this in turn has affected the entire world. A movement has only just begun in Britain to reconnect us to our forgotten ancestors, to the land, to true peace and happiness. I really hope this movement flourishes. Hell is not real.

There is of course the possibility that the wave of destructive karma will just keep rolling from here to many new generations.
I hope and believe that it won’t. 666 will be defeated.

I believe the Indigenous people of Turtle Island will collapse this wave of karma, it will break on the shore of their profound understanding and love.

– The recommendations of the Truth and Reconciliation Commision need to be fully implemented.
– The spirit of the two row wampum needs to be returned and implemented across Government structure and processes.
– The recommendations of the United Nations Human Rights Committee need to be implemented immediately.
– The full inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women needs to happen immediately.
– Police brutality against Indigenous people needs to stop.
– Hate Speech directed towards Indigenous people needs to stop.
– Understanding and respect of Indigenous sovereignty and title to land needs to be restored.
– A new Nation of Nations, including First Nations, Métis, Inuit and Canada needs to be formed to ensure equality and justice become part of the fabric of a new relationship.

I wish I could transport back in time with the understanding I now have and persuade the Romans not to invade Britain. I wish I could heal my ancestors before they in turn became the abuser. I wish I could have stopped the pain they experienced. I wish I could have stopped the pain they have caused the Indigenous people here, but I can’t. I can only apologize for it. I am so sorry.

I am simply a small thread in the rich tapestry of life. I can only try and help to share the truth and begin a healing process.
I really hope we can now all transform this wave of destructive karma, within the collective realm of our love and peace, into ripples of happiness for all our generations to come.

We do have the best opportunity, in all of history, to do so.

My name is Jeremy Alan Board.

Jeremy from Jeremiah, a prophet appointed to reveal the truth, in the Christian Bible.
Alan, a Celtic name, meaning harmony.
Board, an occupational name given to my family by the Anglo-Saxons, we made boards of wood.

My Albion tribe, before the Roman Invasion, were called the Dumnonii – The people of the deep.
I hope I have honoured them and the Indigenous people here.
I believe we were always meant to be friends.
I am also on my Mother’s side a descendant of the House of Tudor.

I would like to leave you, if I may, with a video of our Dumnonii Hill fort, which was later the location of King Arthur’s Camelot & round table, a video of the Dumnonii tribal village in Britain, where my ancestors once lived, in the area now known as Dartmoor. You will see on their entrance wall the sign of the cross, which pre-dates the Roman invasion and Christianity. I have also attached a video of a Briton searching for his ancestors, connecting with the land and nature, something every Briton now needs to do.

tdah-kawk-nish yahts-tsook | We walk in truth