By Roberta Hill.

My sister Dawn Hill and Lillian Beaver were friends at the Mush Hole. I can’t remember the year the two of them decided to run away.

By Roberta Hill

My memories of living with my parents were happy ones until my father died in 1954. My mother struggled to raise 7 young children on her own. Unfortunately, she was not able

A story by Doug George-Kanentiio

I was a student at the Mohawk Institute (a.k.a. the “Mushhole” for its unique brand of watery porridge) in Brantford, Ontario from January, 1967 to June, 1968 when I, along with a large group of Akwesasne Mohawks, were informed we would no longer be welcome to one of Canada’s most notorious residential schools