I am Pierre Belliveau but my people call me Piau. I am in my hundredthyear. My spirit has embraced this land and its ancestry fornearly a century. Every possible joy and calamity has come upon mebecause I am Acadian. Like Moses and the Israelites, who escaped themighty pharoah and his army, my people and I escaped the British andtheir army and have wandered through the wilderness, searching for thePromised Land. The North Star guided me into exile and on my returnI crossed the River Jordan into the land of Canaan. I am my own masterhere, and those I love are with me; therefore I am one with God, who hasprotected me, and one with my ancestors, who bore great hardships inorder that I should survive, procreate, and live in this land. I was a witnessto the resurrection of my people and I surrender my spirit happilyin the knowledge that my descendants will forever remain in the land oftheir forefathers.

I speak of the British as if they are other than me, but I have forever beena man with a divided spirit. I have witnessed the atrocities inflicted on mypeople and my family by British soldiers, but I must confess that I myselfam part English. My mother was half French and half English. Her father, CharlesMelanson, was an English Protestant, born of a French Huguenot fatherand an English mother. He sailed into Port Royal on the ship Satisfaction atage fourteen with his British parents and his brother, Peter (my great-unclePierre), when Acadia became an English colony in 1657. Her father was tobecome the patriarch of Melanson Village. In 1664 my grandfather Charles married my grandmother Marie, daughterof Abraham Dugas, the gun-maker to the king of France and armourerat the fort. Following their marriage, my grandfather decided to adopt hismother''s family name Melanson, doing so (I was told) to distinguish himselffrom his older brother, Pierre Laverdure.

The influence of this English bloodflowing through my family''s veins has been profound. Because Acadia hasbeen a British possession for most of my life, I was inclined and encouragedto embrace both my heritages. If the influence of the English blood in my veins has been strong, evenstronger has been the influence of the French blood. Perhaps this is a resultof my father''s death. I do not remember that event -- I was only a year old.However, I have heard so many tales of his courage fighting General Marchand the British that I have absorbed others'' memories of him as my own. Inmy own conflict with the conquerors, I heard my father''s whispers in my earinspiring me to lead my people to a land of exile so that our survival wouldbe assured. He has walked with me my entire life, whispering to me that Iam the reason he lived.

He has always been part of my journey. My mother, Madeleine, who spoke both French and English perfectly,realized that teaching the English language to her children would grant themspecial privileges in this life. No one embraced the English language morethan I. My great-uncle Peter, called Pierre Laverdure, who lived in GrandPré, announced when I was a boy, "Piau speaks the King''s English with theeloquence of a proper English gentleman." I basked in his praise. Underhis tutelage I learned to read and write English with considerable fluency.French and English had no nationhood for me. I do not remember notcommunicating in both tongues.

But French was the language of my father.And was not my father killed by an English musket? There lies the conflict. Looking back on my life and the deportation of my people, I am awarethat the actions of both the French and the English, with little concernfor the well-being of the Acadians, shaped our tragic history, and each wasresponsible for our betrayal. As I have said, it was Pierre Laverdure who taught me to read and writeEnglish. My first recollection of Uncle Pierre (he was really my great-uncle) was from when I was eight years old. He visited us with his wife, AuntMarie-Marguerite, an elegant woman, the daughter of Sieur de Pobomcoup.They arrived by vessel from Grand Pré, the settlement they founded. Myuncle''s arrival was met with much fanfare in Port Royal.

Because he was an English gentleman, he was received with the utmostrespect by Lieutenant-Governor Caulfield at Annapolis. My uncle had anoble carriage but he had an easy way with people. His children he calledhis seeds, and he never failed to remark that the wind had blown them toall parts of Acadia, boasting that he had in excess of sixty grandchildren. Hehad arrived to celebrate the end of the harvest with the family of his deceasedbrother, Charles, at Melanson Village and to deliver his crops and produceto the English soldiers of the garrison at Annapolis. After doing business with the new British lieutenant-governor andspending several evenings in the company of the officers at the fort, hejoined his family for a week of harvest celebrations. It was at this time, nottoo many years after the Treaty of Utrecht had established British rule inAcadia, that Uncle Pierre spoke to my mother about my spending the winterwith him and Aunt Marie-Marguerite. He remarked to my mother that hishome lacked the presence of children and he would like the opportunity tospend time with me, something he believed would benefit me. "I have noticed in Piau a rare intelligence in one so young.

I can imaginehe has a great capacity for learning," he told my mother. I was the youngest child and she believed that she could spare me forthe winter season. My grandmother was less easy with my leaving, however.She did not easily give me up for the winter. I was Grandmama Marie''s firstgrandson born after the death of my grandfather and she had pampered mefrom birth; I gave her love and affection in return. She was responsible formy French education. On parting with me she declared that every day shewould blow kisses into the wind hoping they would find me in Grand Pré. Iasked her how that could be possible and she replied that they would be soaringon a warm breeze and that they would find my cheeks and caress them.

Uncle and I sailed with the tide and the wind to Grand Pré, journeyingso that I could begin my education, an event that would changemy life irrevocably. This was my first long trip by boat. We followed theshoreline of the mighty Bay of Fundy, witnessing the riot of colours fromthe sugar maples along the shore. We floated swiftly past Blomidon, the majestic mountain of the Great Spirit Glooscap at Cap Baptiste. Asevening approached, I could see the autumn sun setting over the valleyat Minas. The richness of the golds impressed me as a young boy -- Ibelieved I was entering paradise. As we sailed into Minas Basin, Uncle pointed to a stone building beingconstructed in the distance. With considerable pride, he declared, "Thereis the new church of Saint Charles rising up from the ruins of the old.

Itwas destroyed by the English during the great battle of 1704. I am a masterstonemason and I will resurrect the old chapel stone by stone in defiance ofthe British conquerors." I was puzzled by the emphatic nature of Uncle''s comment."But Uncle, you are English. You are friends with the lieutenant-governorand all the officers at the garrison." "Piau, you must learn to see beyond appearances. It is true I was born inEngland -- yes, I was educated there, I became a journeyman stonemason inYorkshire, and my parents were English. However, I have lived in Acadia forover fifty years.

I married your aunt, who is French, embraced the RomanCatholic faith as my own, and have more often than not been in the serviceof the French king. The blood that flows through my veins was at one timeEnglish but now it is Acadian. My English ways have stood us in good steadduring these times of British rule, but there remains no more to it than that."Over time, I, too, was to cultivate these skills, which had taken UnclePierre fifty years to perfect.