Our Voice of Fire by Brandi Morin

Author:Brandi Morin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: House of Anansi Press Inc
Published: 2022-06-01T14:31:42+00:00

– 8 –

“I’ll play you two of them,” the man says, seated in front of a red piano. He gives his nose a quick scratch. “The first one is called ‘The Beginning.’”

“Okay,” a woman off-camera responds.

He hesitates for just a moment, teetering slightly, and then raises his hands and hovers over the keys. A truck roars in the background.

He isn’t your typical tux-and-tails pianist. He is an Indigenous man — his black hair shaggy and facial hair grown out in patches. His coat is ripped and worn, his fingernails are cracked and dirty. One can tell at a glance that he’s been living rough.

And then he begins to play.

The melody is at once haunting and hopeful. Each note building on the next, weaving a story that transcends words. Despite the poor tuning, despite the one stuck key, despite the fact that the piano looks like it has had as many hard days as its player — the song rises triumphant.

The man transforms as he plays. Teetering no longer, he sways to the rhythm of the music that moves through him. He occasionally glances up at the camera, a look of profound peace on his face. As the song reaches the end, he breaks off his playing to tell the woman filming him, “I actually wrote this song.” The pride is evident on his face as is the satisfaction of finally being heard. The video ends abruptly with the woman’s appreciative exclamation. We never do get to hear his second song.

I don’t know how long I sat in stunned silence after the video finished playing. The melody of his song “The Beginning” lingered in my body — echoing in my chest and whispering through my veins. Listen, listen, listen, it seemed to sing.

I clicked to play it again.

Then again.

Suddenly I knew what I had to do. I needed to find this “Piano Man” and unravel his story.

I decided to aim high and pitch my idea to the APTN National News. Most of their reporting is done by Indigenous journalists. I figured this story would be perfect for them. They said yes. This was my big chance, I could just feel it. Now all I had to do was find the mysterious composer. A bit of research had provided me with the basics: his name was Ryan, he was living on the streets of Edmonton, and he was gifted with a magical melody that touched the souls of millions who heard him play. It wasn’t much to go on but it was a start. Edmonton was less than an hour away, so I hit the road to begin the search.

Questions raced through my mind as I drove. What was his story? When did he discover his God-given gift? How did he feel now that he’d been “discovered”?

The first day I went to the local homeless shelters and drop-in centres looking for Ryan. I talked with people on the streets, I drove the back streets of Edmonton and walked the alleys praying for a lead.

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