La Société des Acadiens de la Région de Tor Baie wish to encourage everyone to contribute and share all art forms in an effort to relate and share the Tor Bay region Acadian story. To date, a professionally written, acted, directed and staged theatre production entitled “le Sel et le Poivre” has been enjoyed by locals and other audiences of the Maritimes. Written and acted by actor Michael Pellerin, under the direction of Artistic Director, Emmy Alcorn and the Mulgrave Road Theatre Company, this production was a moving story of how growing up Acadian is a heartfelt part of who we are and, coupled with our experiences, define us as a people.
We also proudly have on display in our Salle Acadienne, a beautiful miniature reproduction of Larry’s River as it appeared in the early 1900s. This intricately produced piece of art was crafted by our locally grown artist, Artie Petitpas, and has been viewed and appreciated by many visitors to our Salle Acadienne.
La Société also has, besides the park rock paintings, another of Monika Deursch’s beautiful artistic re-creation of Larry’s River with historical highlights defining much of our 1900 to 1950s era. This 16’X8′ wall mural painting is a much appreciated and viewed work of art that has visitors in awe of Monika’s skills and the rich story that she relates. Guided viewings can be arranged at the Salle Acadienne as requested.
Several poems and assorted writings are also available for reading and purchasing upon request.
Local artist, Mary Delorey, has many of her productions available for viewing and purchasing as requested. A visit to her studio is encouraged.
Amanda Cashen Photography sample displays reveal a rich and a very different view of Nova Scotia’s seacoast highlights.
To date, little has been done in the field of music and we encourage musicians to write and produce music connected to our rich story and culture.
Proud Acadiens Return—by Jude Avery (2004)
Our small bay-side village,
Nestled quietly by the shore,
Lay awaiting for its moment,
To be revisited once more.
Acadien is our heritage,
And of our history we are proud,
To have survived painful upheavals,
With our heads held up high.
Our ancestors left their native lands,
In western France our history does say,
To cross the ocean to settle and adapt,
In beautiful Acadie by the bay.
The first try was a great disaster,
Île Ste. Croix was the first attempt,
This small island was a poor choice,
For the ill-prepared 79 men.
A new location was sought and found,
By the 39 survivors the next year,
Across the bay from île Ste. Croix,
More protection was offered here.
Port Royal was their new home,
The Mi’kmaqs were their new friends,
They helped them adjust and adapt,
To their new surroundings.
L’Habitation became their new home,
With communal quarters for work and rest,
L’Ordre de Bon Temps their social club,
To help survive the winter’s test.
In 1605 they settled there,
Champlain said they were there to stay,
In 1608 he left for Quebec,
He abandoned their new home on the bay.
In 1632 they returned,
And this time it was for good,
Along the Bay of Fundy shores,
Like its trees their communities stood.
The Valley was declared as theirs,
To develop, adapt and prosper,
Grand Pré was their agricultural challenge,
With dykes they were determined to conquer.
Rich new farmlands were built from salt marshes,
This became their trademark that aroused others’ envy,
Especially of the English of Halifax,
Who watched the salt water empty.
This land changed its look and value,
From waste marshes to rich fertile soil,
A process that was closely observed,
By the sinister British Governor and all.
To rid themselves of these unwanted French Neutrals,
Was a topic most often discussed,
How would they do it without a rebellion,
And do it without too much fuss?
Deportation was always an option,
But plans proved expensive and complicated,
Where would they send these poor souls?
What would be done with the lands they vacated?
Le Grand Dérangement was a sad attempt,
At ethnic cleansing, so we are told,
Of ridding a prosperous territory,
Of innocent but unwanted souls.
Some 12,000 were scattered around the world,
Like pollen sent by winds everywhere,
Some escaped with Mi’kmaqs into the woods,
Many tried to survive there in despair.
Around 2000 were captured and held captives,
On Georges Island and fortresses here and there,
Forced by the British to toil long hours,
Doing waterfront construction and repairs.
Splintered families were saddened and broken,
For their families had to go,
But they always dreamt of, and remembered,
Their homes of long ago.
The World Congress of Acadians 2004,
For the world scattered Acadians was a delight,
To return to their ancestral Acadie,
Their homeland and their dykes.
Our splintered families happily returned,
From their homes far and near,
To celebrate with pride our survival,
And meet their long-lost relatives here.
Some Acadians are now known as,
Les Shiacs of Nouveau Brunswick and les Cajuns of Louisiane,
With countless others they came home again,
Au berceau des Acadiens.
Our accents they may differ,
Our palates not quite the same,
But one thing for us is certain,
Our hearts are still Acadian.
Our personalities are amazingly similar,
No matter what we call home,
L’Acadie flows through our veins,
And is in our very bones.
Our warmth and joie de vivre,
Is always evident for all to see,
Our deep love of community and family,
For us these will always be.
250 years of separation,
For our families it has been,
But the meaning of the word, Acadien,
Has remained very much the same.
We love music and we love food,
We love dancing and our extended family,
We hold true to our Catholic faith,
And we hold dear to our rich history.
For certain we will never forget,
Who we are, this we know,
For us being “Acadien”,
Is too valued to let go.
The Larry’s River Song – author unknown
We all got together and decided to go,
Down to Larry’s River for a good time you know,
The folks are so happy who live on that shore,
A welcome you’ll find one at everyone’s door.
We hired Tom Mills who runs a big truck,
Saying jump in her Tommy and trust the good luck,
Climb aboard you young fellas and help mademoiselle
We’ll reach Larry’s River, just drive her like hell.
Our first stop was Guysborough, it was a short time,
We stopped fifteen minutes for a good look around,
We met a big Mountie on his face was a grin,
Said boys keep on moving or I’ll run yous all in.
Our next stop was Lundy (the Junction) and some went right through,
Some stopped off at Tony’s to get some homebrew,
Big Amelia was there on her face was a smile,
I knew you were coming I could hear yous a mile.
We lay down our money two gallons of bug,
Gave Tony a quarter to pay for the jug,
Saying climb in the Old Ford just give her a yell,
We’ll reach Larry’s River just drive her like hell.
When we got to Larry’s River we all stopped our noise,
Father Forest he met us “you very fine boys,
Go to church in the morning confess all your sins,
In the evening stay home and drink up your gin”.
Early the next morning to church we did go,
Respect for our preacher we all had to show,
He preached hell and damnation took a sip of his wine,
Now boys I was dragging for a good slug of mine.
So folks I have told you as far as we went,
Down to Larry’s River not costing a cent,
The way those folks treated us was fit for a king,
They even invited us to come back in the Spring.
Post-célébrations Savalette — par Jude Avery (2015)
Le 12e Festival Savalette est terminé,
Le village est encore tombé tranquille,
Les visiteurs qui rendent la vie pleine de vitalité,
Sont aujourd’hui retournés en ville.
Ça ressemble un peu le Dérangement,
Encore une fois chassés de leurs aieux,
Il faut toujours aller à leurs emplois,
Dans les villes-leurs nouveaux chez-eux.
En réfléchissant sur notre histoire tragique,
Celle-ci nous rappelle d’un autre temps,
Quand nos familles étaient menacées et déchirées,
Aujourd’hui cela est encore le cas.
Nos terres sont encore vides,
Mais nos possessions ne sont pas incendié,
Nos terrains familiales tombent solitaires,
Ces lieux de nos ancêtres, vides et abandonnés.
Nos gens de racines rurales et de grandes familles,
Sont maintenant urbaines et très petites,
Mais dans leurs veines coule le sang de leurs ancêtres,
Qui les ramènent encore icitte.
Ils aiment célébrer leur culture et leur histoire bien riche,
Et ils ne veulent jamais l’oublier,
Ayant une occasion annuelle à les fêter leur donne,
Un moment pour s’exprimer.
C’est beau de voir de nombreux visiteurs,
Venir nous rejoindre pour célébrer nos racines et notre histoire,
Et de voir encore leur visages allumant et joie-de-vivre,
Qui nous accordent toujours des grands espoirs.
Peut-être un jour dans l’avenir de ces jeunes âmes,
Eux-mêmes ils vont partager avec leurs petits enfants,
Des histoires de ces célébrations mémorables,
Et de petites histoires et contes intéressants.
Possiblement l’histoire du Capitaine Basques-Savalette,
Et de ses exploits formidables et entrepreneuriaux,
Ou de la visite en 1607 de Champlain,
Et de ses connaissances de son métier et ces eaux.
Peut-être le tintamarre avec nos tambours et nos drapeaux,
Ou de liturgies prononçant notre foi Chrétienne,
Vont leur rappeler du Festival Savalette,
Et de raconter à leurs enfants d’où ils viennent.
Ce Festival nous encourage chaque fois,
À ne jamais tourner notre dos,
Sur notre héritage et coutumes si riches,
Mais avec fierté toujours porter le flambeau.
Acadiens de Tor Bay – par Brad Pellerin
En passant l’hiver dans les bois
Y’ont pu évader la déportation
Ensuite trouvés par les soldats
Y’ont passé presque huit ans en prison.
En l’an soixante trois, libérés
Impossible de retourner à Grand Pré
A Chezzetcook y’a des amis
Sans doute on trouvera de la famille.
Pas d’terre pour vous acadiens
Tout ça on garde pour les américains
Encore une fois il faut quitter
Chercher un petit coin de liberté
Partis vers l’est chercher leur place
Enfin la côte de Tor Baie, Havre M’nasse
Larry’s River et l’anse à Charlo
Villages acadiens du comté de Guysb’rough
Y’a Lavandier, Doiron, Roi,
Fougère, Bonnevie, David, D’Eon, Benoit
Pellerin, Petitpas, et Richard
Bellefontaine, DesLauriers, Girouard.
N’oublions pas les bons Surette
Et à l’anse les Doiron et les mannette
Rien qu’à Havre M’nasse y’a des Boudreau
Et une seule famille de Thibeault.
Plus tard sont venus les Kuessy
Suivi des Murphy et des Avery
Pour finir la liste d’irlandais
Cashen est aussi devenu acadien
Ce n’est pas tout à fait fini
Y’en a qui sont venus de Tracadie
C’est pour faire la pêche dans la Baie
Qu’ont venus les Girouard et les DesLauriers
Y’ont trouvé un autre paradis
Ca fait plus que deux cent ans qu’on est ici
On est v’nu cette fois pour rester
Même l’Evêque Plessis peut pas nous bouger