I want to tell you everything at once. But I guess I’ll do the Mennonite thing and start at the beginning — before telling you the what, I’m going to tell you the why. This year marks the 150th anniversary of the year the first Mennonites arrived in Manitoba. Please do not mistake this for a celebration. It is a commemoration. Fact is, many of our ancestors first set foot in Manitoba 150 years ago. This feels significant. It’s time to look at what this means for all parties involved. And revisit their footsteps. Together.
And so, the Manitoba Mennonite Historical Society has organized two bus excursions, guided by historians — one exploring the East Reserve on October 10th, and one exploring the West Reserve on October 22nd. (Yes, TOMORROW. If you’re reading this at time of me pushing that “publish” button.)
Time flies. Before I knew it the week of October 10th was upon me and I had a decision to make. I abruptly booked a vacation day, and signed up online. My excitement grew. This was the right decision.
Some might wonder if I already knew everything about these sites. Look. I will never tell you that I know everything. That’s bullshit. I’m hardly even educated. And I’m still pretty new to learning about Mennonites, in all honesty. Plus I’m terrible at remembering the things I wish I would remember. So.
The morning of Thursday October 10th found me racing down Provincial Road 305, guzzling black coffee and hoping I wasn’t gonna miss the bus. I haven’t felt that kind of panicky exhilaration in quite a few decades. Of course, all was well. I arrived at the Mennonite Memorial Landing Site with time to spare, seeing a crowd gathering on the banks of the Red River. A few minutes later, the big charter bus rolled in.
I was thrilled to see it arrive at the Mennonite Landing. I was really doing this — I was really going on this hyper-local historical bus excursion! MMHS President Conrad Stoesz descended the steps out of the bus, and I joined the folks gathered around him, submitting payment, old-school. The other Winnipeg folks exited the bus as well, to have a look around the landing site, under the archway and down the path.
I wonder if it was this beautiful when my ancestors landed here in August of 1874. They were probably not fans. I think that I might think this because I’ve been reading some translations of diaries from that time, that have been shared by historians in a great many ways, all this year. (And I haven’t been blogging about. I feel like it’s all really big, and my thoughts are so small…)
I followed the crowd down the path, approaching the junction of the Red and Rat Rivers.
On the way, you will see a diversion — a path branches into the forest, where a cairn awaits:
I lingered there a bit, and then emerged out in the open, before the storied landing site itself. I found the others already there, standing apart from one another, in quiet morning contemplation.
I took a moment down by the edge of the water to appreciate the muddy slippery banks of the rivers. It’s called “gumbo” and the paddleboat the Mennonites arrived on had gotten stuck several times and everyone had to step off until the boat made it past, and then get back on. That must have been beyond annoying. Also depressing and gross, I’d think. But on this day, it looked so serene and lovely. I think we were all trying to imagine. It’s really tough to do.
Then it was time to get on the bus!
I managed to snag a seat in the front, right behind Ernie Braun, because a woman from Winnipeg had been reflecting that someone could sit with her if they wanted, and I heard her and plunked myself down. She and I were now officially seatmates for the duration of the trip.
One thing about that — the tour had two pickup places: the first was at CMU, nice and early. The second was at the Mennonite Landing, and being nearer to my home and better suited to my timetable, I chose this option.
Our first stop was the site of the Shantz immigration sheds, which is I think four and a half miles from the landing site. Ernie told us a harrowing story of the well.
Water was needed in the crowded, uncomfortable immigration sheds, so they set to work digging a well. Unaccustomed to the soil in their new home, the immigrants made a near-fatal miscalculation and two young men were buried alive, deep in the earth. A near-widow inconsolable and attempted to jump in after her now-buried husband, but was restrained by the others. Eventually a method was devised to extract the two men, and no one died… though it is said they were “never the same”.
Ernie is a compelling storyteller, as you can see from the photos. Hearing these stories, on site, is a valuable privilege.
Then we walked to see the cairn which marks the spot and tells more about the four sheds located at these four corners.
Here Ernie told us about Jacob Shantz’s shrewd business dealings, how he arranged everything for the Mennonites and did pretty good for himself financially at the same time.
Then we climbed back on the bus and made the short trip into Niverville, where we were the first group to see the brand new signage next to the Peace Trail.
As everyone carefully read the panels, I overheard them telling each other that they felt the way the information was presented on them made it clearer a few things about how and why and where the Mennonites were arriving. The four panels are labeled: The Mennonites Arrive, Where did they go?, What did they build?, and Who helped the Mennonites?
While we stood there reading the panels, in the quiet morning, we could hear geese in the distance, reminding us that it was autumn and winter is coming. The sound from the sky grew louder until we all looked up and the sky was filled. It was kind of amazing. (And no one received an unwanted “gift”, thankfully.)
Next, to another Niverville location — the ox cart. Ernie Braun was instrumental in arranging the creation and placement of this cart. His friend, master cart builder Armand Jerome created it, because it’s important to understand this was how the Mennonites got from the banks of the river to the sheds — Metis drivers and their ox carts were everything in that time.
I didn’t take a great picture of the ox cart but you can see more if you click here.
Next, we went into the nearby Niverville Centennial Arena. It’s very new and includes a historical space, which I’ve written about before. But this time when I saw it, it was full of people taking it all in!
I had just finished carefully reading the names of the people on the committee who made this space happen, when I noticed a woman standing near me, we probably did that mutual apologizing thing Canadians do — saying sorry for no reason, just because it was possible we were crossing paths or something — when I noticed the last name on her name tag: Armbruster. I had just read that name — on the list of committee members. I said, “You were involved in the creation of this space, weren’t you?”
She told me that her husband had been, yes. He was standing nearby, and we got to talking. He told me how important it was to use this space to acknowledge the indigenous people who had been on this land long before anyone else. Roger Armbruster had clearly worked very had to include such thoughtful, beautifully rendered content here.
I asked if I could take their picture.
I think that hearing from the person who was a driving force to bring this information to light, for the public to understand and appreciate the true history of the region where our ancestors arrived to, and where we live today — kind of brings it all to life for me even more.
At this point we were getting hungry. Conrad announced we would now be making our way to the Chortitz Heritage Church in Randolph, where we would enjoy a faspa lunch provided by Faspa (a new Winnipeg eatery Andrew and I still need to visit!).
Inside the church, Ernie regaled us with storied history.
And we ate a very delicious faspa, courtesy of Faspa:
Then we scattered a bit to explore this heritage site. On the other side of the road is the cemetery:
I’ve written a lot about it in the past. But maybe I never talked about this crooked little stone on the older side of the cemetery:
I can’t quite read it, but I think it says Katharina Rempel 1852-1890. I can’t make out the name she was born with, though. She must have been wealthy or important to have a stone marker.
I then noticed a crowd had gathered on the other side of the road so I went to investigate. Here I found Conrad and Ernie conducting an impromptu question-and-answer with the inquisitive crowd. I was delighted that so many questions were being asked of these experts, and they were right there, happy to answer, as we were standing together in these last remaining historic sites in the R.M. of Hanover.
But do I remember what the questions or responses were? No I do not. Regretfully.
It was time to get back on the bus. On the way to our next destination, my seatmate Frances and I got to chatting. I learned that her son is married to my first cousin. No wonder she looked familiar — I must have shaken her hand at their wedding back in 2002! We were delighted to realize our connection and I took a selfie to show my cousin:
Soon we were arriving at Schoensee, which yes… okay… I have also written about before. Because Ernie showed it to me! But this time was special because Helene Warkentin was there to welcome us. I spied her from the bus window, because of the book she was carrying — the Grunthal History book. (I have that same old book! What a great find from the MCC thrift shop.)
I have visited this cemetery several times… probably even more in my mind or imagination. But never with a tour bus! It’s surreal to see a tour bus empty itself out into a little country cemetery like this.
It is adjacent to a cow pasture:
Helene told us several stories of this place, including how all its village residents left in the 1920s during the schools question. She also pointed out David Friesen’s headstone. Yes… you know Friesens, the famous Altona-based printery? There is a strong Schoensee connection.
It was then to say goodbye to Helene and climb back onto the bus for our final stop — Bergfeld.
I have been here before… but that was just with Andrew and Ernie. Now there were about forty of us, making our way over the uneven terrain to the edge of a field, where the cairn still stood in memory of the village that had once been here, and the cemetery that still is.
This site is close to Ernie’s heart as this was where his family had lived.
It’s close to someone else’s heart too: Frances. And now my heart feels a little connected to hers, to have witnessed this.
The autumn days are beautiful and getting shorter. The sun was getting lower in the sky. The bus, and home, was calling to us all.
The trees were brilliant yellow as we made our way back…
Back to the Mennonite Landing. And then home.
You missed the tour of the East Reserve, but you haven’t yet missed the tour of the West Reserve. It happens October 22nd. If you’re reading this at time of publication, that means TOMORROW. I have no idea if there’s still room. Check out the link here: mmhs.org/tour