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Ahousaht and church progress in friendship
Victoria church houses a reconciliation gathering as many work to heal from the eff ects of residential schools
By Denise Titian Ha-Shilth-Sa Reporter
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Victoria, BC – A group of Ahousaht members hosted a gathering at Our Lady of the Rosary Catholic Church Hall Sunday on Aug. 15. The purpose was to cement the friendship between the church and the Victoria-based Ahousaht members. The Ahousaht cultural group formed in Victoria several years ago. Made up of singers and dancers, the group gathers in Langford at a hall owned by Our Lady of the Rosary Catholic Church where they socialize and practice cultural songs and dances. Their cultural nights are open to all Indigenous people that wish to take part. Members of Esquimalt First Nation regularly take part in the fun evenings. In his notifi cation of the event, organizer and Ahousaht Councillor Phillip Guy Louie invited people to join the group as they step onward to embrace reconciliation, truth and friendship with the Victoria Catholic Church. Louie told the crowd that regular culture nights have been on hold since gatherings were restricted in 2020 due to the COVID-19 pandemic, but with restrictions lifting, they plan the evening events at the church property, which they’ve been using for many years. For this reason, it was important to acknowledge news stories of the human remains found buried in unmarked graves on former residential school grounds and the feelings being stirred up across Canada. Leaders of the Ahousaht cultural group met with Father Dean and other church offi cials to work on a way to move forward. Elected chief Greg Louie thanked Father Dean, saying that the people were gathered there because Father Dean extended a hand. Louie noted that not everyone is ready for this form of reconciliation. He stated that Father Dean has maintained close relationships with many Ahousaht members. He thanked Father Dean stating he didn’t just extend a hand but extended a heart. “Our culture is still here because we are strong, resilient people,” said Louie. “We’re not going anywhere and you’re (non-Indigenous) not going anywhere so let’s walk together.” The event started with a cleansing ceremony that covered the church buildings. Inside the hall invited guests from Indigenous communities and the church congregation intermingled. Many people from both groups were wearing orange shirts. Ahousaht Ha’wiih Hasheukmis (Richard George, standing in for his father Maquinna, Lewis George) and Hanuquii (Nate Charlie) and speaker Cliff Atleo announced that the fi rst order of business was to comfort those grieving for lost family members. Ta’ilthma, as it is called, is an off ering of support for the people, to recognize their grief and to show them that their presence at the event is appreciated, Atleo explained. Atleo carefully explained things as the event carried on, so that those unfamiliar with Nuu-chah-nulth ways could understand what was going on and why it was being done. He told the crowd that the act of blanketing people symbolizes healing energy being off ered to strengthen them and to hold them up during diffi cult times. After being blanketed, the Ahousaht
Photo by Denise Titian On Aug. 15 a Victoria church housed a reconciliation gathering, as many in its congregation work to heal from the continued eff ects of residential schools. delegation performed a dance called the Yaht-yahta. Atleo explained that the name of the dance, literally, means to walk. “It’s to make those that are grieving feel better,” he shared. “It’s telling them that your people, your chiefs, want to hold you up because they know grief is not easy.” Former residential school students were asked to come forward and they, too, were blanketed. Phillip Guy Louie Sr. said it was important for Ahousaht Ha’wiih to recognize survivors and they had arranged brushings for anyone who wanted it. Hanuquii spoke to his mother Genevieve, who was seated with the other residential school survivors. “If you didn’t survive, mom, I wouldn’t be here,” he said before thanking her. He told he was there now, to hold her up. Church representatives including Father Dean were asked to stand before the crowd. He told them that he, the church offi cials and congregation came there with a profound sense of honor. “We respect that you would have us here to express your solidarity with our friends,” he told the people. “I am so sorry for your losses, and I will walk with you if you will have me.” As he spoke of a greater power, Father Dean used words like Noss (a Nuu-chahnulth word for Creator) and Creator. Father Dean said he has spoken to Indian residential school survivors and has off ered what support he can. Some, he said, just wanted a hug. “We see you care for each other, and we learn from you,” he told the people. At one point, the Ahousaht Ha’wiih along with Cliff Atleo stood before the church guests. Speaking on their behalf, Tim Sutherland invited a man to sit on a chair placed in the middle of the fl oor. He told the man to select two people that would act as his parents. A man and woman stepped forward as Sutherland told the fi rst man that he is a little boy and the Ahousaht Chiefs were there to take him away from his parents to Ahousaht. He will no longer be allowed to speak English and if he tries to run away, well, there were three strong Ahousaht men there that would stop him. The moment was profound as the woman started to cry, while the ‘father’ and the ‘boy’ both dabbed at their tears. The demonstration ended in hugs. Dave Frank talked about his experience in residential school. “I was sexually abused by a priest,” he shared. As an adult, the long-term eff ects of the assault left him suicidal, and he talked about his third and fi nal attempt to commit suicide. He was getting his weapon ready when there was a persistent knocking at his door. There, at his door stood a priest. “It was a priest that God sent to rescue me,” he said. From that day forward, Frank committed to let go of his pain and anger. “It wasn’t the whole church that hurt me, it was an individual,” he said. Frank then assisted in a brushing ceremony that the church congregation willingly took part in. Father Dean went on to say that they recognize the intergenerational trauma of Indian residential schools and how it impacts the children and grandchildren of survivors. “We can’t comprehend our children being taken from us and not speaking their language – all we can do is walk with you,” he said. “We stand with you in solidarity; we are sorry for the losses you continue to endure. We’re sorry and we will do better.” There were two residential schools in Ahousaht and two churches. None of the buildings exist any longer. Church offi cials standing with Father Dean traveled to take part in the event. There were pastors from several Catholic churches in the Victoria area and one from Port Alberni. Bishop Gary Gordon was also in attendance. Father Dean recalled the time that the Swan family needed a place to gather when elder Rosie Swan passed away in a Victoria hospital. He was able to connect with another church who opened their facility for the family. “We will share with you…you’re our people too and you are welcome to our churches,” he said. Elected Chief Louie says Ahousaht First Nation is in talks with both Catholic and United Church offi cials about reconciliation measures. The evening was rounded out with dinner and cultural performances.
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The Tseshaht Warrior Program sent youngsters into an underwater world through training in scuba diving
By Melissa Renwick Local Journalism Initiative Reporter
Ucluelet, BC - Sheltered within a large tide pool along the Wild Pacifi c Trail in Ucluelet, Kenneth Lucas took a deep breath before diving fi ve-metres to the ocean fl oor. Armed with a weight belt and snorkel fi ns the length of his arms, the 15-yearold secured himself in place by clinging to a rock. Behind him, Chris Adair pointed a fl ashlight into a dark hole under a boulder. A train of white tentacles came into view before Lucas kicked back to the surface for air. Above water, Lucas held a wide smile before diving back down to get another look at the Pacifi c octopus tucked inside its den. Lucas was participating in a three-day snorkel-harvester training course as part of the Tseshaht First Nation’s youth Warrior Program in late-August. Instructed by Adair, owner and operator of Bottom Dwellers Freediving, the goal was to expose the youth to underwater environments and aquatic species along the coast. “That liquid curtain – that barrier of the surface keeps people at bay,” said Adair. “[This training] gives the youth another space to be excited about and feel connected to.” The Tseshaht youth Warrior Program kicked off last September, following the success of similar programs held in Yuułuʔiłʔatḥ, Ahousaht, Tla-o-qui-aht, Ka:’yu:’k’t’h’/Che:k:tles7et’h and Huuay-aht First Nations. Designed to foster community and build leadership in First Nations youth through land-based learning, the program hosts weekly meetings and monthly camp-outs. Lucas was encouraged to join by his sister a few months after the program was launched. Feeling “bored” and without “anything to do,” Lucas said he didn’t need much convincing. “I like coming out here,” he said, sitting on rocky ground next to the Pacifi c Ocean. “It gets me away from social media. I know social media is supposed to be fun, but it makes me more stressed.” The interest in free-diving and harvesting developed in response to COVID-19 as concerns about food sovereignty and food security were amplifi ed, said Nuuchah-nulth Warrior Program coordinator Ricardo Manmohan. “If the Delta variant locks us down again, [Nuu-chah-nulth] people can still go out and harvest tucup,” he said. Coastal Indigenous communities sustainably harvested seafood for generations before colonization, said RandiLeigh MacNutt, the Tseshaht Warrior Program female youth coordinator. By re-introducing these practices to the youth, she said they’re able to tap into those ancestral traditions.
Photos by Melissa Renwick Chris Adair, owner of Bottom Dwellers Freediving, provides safety instructors before the Tseshaht youth enter the ocean, along the Wild Pacifi c Trail, in Ucluelet, on August 18.
Kenneth and Brandi Lucas walk down the Wild Pacifi c Trail in Ucluelet to access calm ocean waters for snorkelling. (From left to right) Kenneth Lucas, Brandi Lucas and Jaidin Knighton pose for a photo with sea urchins after snorkelling along the Wild Pacifi c Trail.
“It’s a way of life,” said MacNutt. “It opens up the door to helping the youth learn about what they can eat from the ocean and [how] to move forward by teaching others.” After securing funding through the First Nations Well Being Fund, Manmohan said the youth from each nation will receive the snorkel-harvester training, along with four sets of free-diving gear. The training included a day of in-class academics in Hitacu, confi ned water training at Kennedy Lake, a species identifi cation class at the Ucluelet Aquarium, and an open-water session in the ocean. The gradual progression allows students to hone their skills and become comfortable with the gear before diving in a liveenvironment, said Adair. “It’s a diff erent planet down there,” he said. “I fi nd that escaping into that liquid environment is very peaceful and helps me get away from the day-to-day.” Tseshaht is the fi rst nation to off er a women’s warrior group in tandem with a men’s group. “Males and females will work together in the future so it’s important for them to work together now,” said MacNutt. Jaidin Knighton and Lucas’ aunt, Brandi, also participated in the snorkelharvester training. While the unknown of what lurked beneath the ocean’s surface was “scary,” Brandi cast her fears aside and said, “it’s going to be worth it.” Knighton joined because she was “genuinely curious” about what it was like to dive underneath the water while keeping warm. Without advancements in wetsuit technology, free-diving and snorkelling were primarily warm-weather destination sports until more recently. Adair said that no one was teaching free-diving on Vancouver Island up until fi ve years ago when he launched Bottom Dwellers Freediving. As accessibility to equipment and instruction has grown, the cold-water free-diving community has “exploded,” he said. While the youth swam through kelp forests, Adair pointed out abalone and starfi sh along the way. Occasionally, the youth disappeared under the water and returned with a sea urchin in the palm of their hand for closer inspection. “It’s not necessarily about getting deeper,” said Adair. “It’s about staying [down] longer to develop a connection to the in-water environment – [to] bring back harvest to the table to share with friends and family.”
Page 10— Ha-Shilth-Sa—August 26, 2021 Keeping watch over the birthplace of T
The Broken Group Islands are closely watched by the First Nation each summer, reminding visitors that the area is more than a ‘wilderness’ destination
By Melissa Renwick Local Journalism Initiative Reporter
Broken Group Islands, BC - A thick layer of fog wrapped around the Broken Group Islands on an early morning in lateJuly. It acted like a veil, withholding the beauty of the islands’ white sandy beaches, rocky outcrops, and the surrounding turquoise waters. The region is a mecca for kayakers and boaters alike who fl ock to the remote set of islands every year, which Parks Canada has long been describing as a “wilderness” destination. It’s one that deeply troubles Denis St. Claire. “To call this wilderness is just patently absurd,” he said. For 48 years, St. Claire has worked as an archeologist in Barkley Sound. It’s because of his life’s work that the region ranks among the most extensively studied in the Northwest Coast. The existence of 180 archaeological sites in the Broken Group indicates that Tseshaht First Nation, along with several nations that amalgamated with Tseshaht, have occupied the area for over 5,000 years, he said. One program is helping to change the islands’ “untouched” perception by teaching visitors about the region’s cultural legacy. In 2012, Tseshaht First Nation partnered with Parks Canada to create the Beach Keeper Program, which directly involves the nation in the stewardship of the land. Six Tseshaht members are currently employed as beach keepers and act as the nation’s “watchers” and “speakers” for the group of islands from May through September. Lead beach keeper Hank Gus said he likes to greet every visitor by introducing himself and his fellow beach keepers to make sure “everyone feels welcome and safe.” By logging visitors’ movements through the islands and recording the number of people sleeping at the seven designated campsites, Gus said they can account for travellers in the event of an emergency. They also share stories about Tseshaht’s birthplace, remind tourists of campfi re bans, as well as provide visitors with Tseshaht Beach Keeper Hank Gus asks a group of kayakers about their plans while in the Broken Groups Islands, in Barkley Sound, wildlife and weather updates, like the 8.2 magnitude earthquake that recently struck off Alaska’s coast. The nation’s direct involvement in stewarding the islands is helping to create public awareness “that people have lived here for millennia,” said St. Claire. While the 74-year-old said it was long overdue, it’s a step forward in the cultural preservation of the area. As the area’s historical importance is being recognized, referring to the islands as wilderness is necessary to encourage visitors to come prepared, said Parks Canada superintendent Karen Haugen. “When communicating with visitors, Parks Canada refers to natural settings that are removed from amenities such as roads, accommodations, and stores as wilderness areas,” she said. “This way, visitors can better assess whether they are ready for a backcountry experience and prepare accordingly.” A legacy of whalers Gus’ interest in his homelands was sparked while working on an archeological dig led by St. Clair on Benson Island in 2000. “I started getting a taste of my roots by
er the birthplace of Tseshaht
Photos by Melissa Renwick
Tseshaht Beach Keeper Hank Gus asks a group of kayakers about their plans while in the Broken Groups Islands, in Barkley Sound, on July 26. better assess whether they are ready for a backcountry experience and prepare ac interest in his homelands was sparked while working on an archeological dig led by St. Clair on Benson Island in “I started getting a taste of my roots by tracing back our history,” he said. Since then, Gus said he felt an “urgency” to return home. He has been stationed as a beach keeper on Keith Island every summer since the program’s inception in 2012. Despite living in Port Alberni most of the year, “To me, the broken islands are home,” he said. “Being able to live and work in our (From left to right) Shane Sieber, Memphis Dick and Hank Gus greet a group of kayakers on Gibraltar Island, in the Broken Group Islands, in Barkley Sound.
homelands helps our spirit grow strong,” he added. Memphis Dick is working as a beach keeper for her fi rst season and considers Gus a mentor. Each time she listens to Gus tell the Tseshaht origin story to visitors, she remembers it in greater detail. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it just feels right to be here,” she said. “It’s empowering to know that years ago we lived on these islands and canoed to each place.” As part of a three-year archeological project led by St. Claire, a pile of whalebones was exposed in one of the excavations on Benson Island in 2000. Lab testing identifi ed that the stack of bones came from fi ve diff erent whales that dated back at least 500 years, said St. Claire. “It would’ve been in front of the house of a whaler who was advertising his abilities,” he said. “Whaling [was a] way that somebody in the chiefl y class could advance themselves.” St. Claire said it was typically rare for people to move beyond the class they were born into. “But if you could potlatch more than anyone, or were a more successful whaler, then your prestige went beyond what your birthright within the chiefl y class would normally assign to you,” he said. This is why Tseshaht translates to “the smell and the decaying of whale bone along the beach,” explained Gus.
St. Claire understood early in his career that excavating without knowing the cultural background of the area was half-hearted. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, he worked closely with around 23 elders to make recordings and understand Tseshaht’s cultural ethnographic background. The late-Tseshaht hereditary chief Adam Shewish adopted St. Clair into his family thereafter. In his research, St. Claire studied the works of famed anthropologist and linguist Edward Sapir. Over a century ago, Sapir worked with Tseshaht members born in the mid-1800s who recounted the Tseshaht origin story as taught by their grandparents. “Those are the versions that I fi nd the most informative,” said St. Claire. “I recount them to my students, and anyone else who will listen, all the time.” Gus was among them and continues to share the nation’s origin story to those visiting the broken group. In the accounts by elders who spoke with Sapir over 100 years ago, Kapkimyis was either the son or the brother of Kwatyat, the supreme supernatural being and creator of all things within the Nuu-chah-nulth belief system. As the story goes, Kapkimyis was gifted new abilities from Kwatyat. Eager to show them off , Kapkimyis found a mussel shell and used it to cut the inside of his thigh. After collecting a puddle of his own blood into the palms of his hands, he blew into the blood to create new life in the form of a little girl. Kapkimyis made another cut on the inside of his other thigh and after scooping up the blood, he created a little boy. The two children represent “the beginning of our time – night and day,” explained Gus. Kapkimyis showed the children the ways of living and gave names to the surrounding 50 diff erent species of mammals, birds, and shellfi sh. He showed the children how to catch, prepare and store the food, much of which came from a river that was plentiful with salmon. When he noticed Tseshaht’s fi rst female and male bickering, he cautioned them and said, “that is not the way to live.” And yet, their arguing continued. In a fi t of anger, Kapkimyis destroyed the river as a punishment to them, breaking the island into hunks of rock and soil that drifted apart, and eventually fi xed into place. This, St. Claire said, is what created the Broken Group Islands as they are today. The origin story was often told by grandparents to children, St. Claire said. It was used to teach lessons about the importance of working together and sharing with your family and community.
Signs in English and French
While on a kayaking trip, Peter Tyszewicz said he had “the pleasure” of meeting Gus and the beach keepers, who shared Tseshaht’s stories with him. “It’s a cultural experience,” he said. “It provides a diff erent context and appreciation for the place.” Aside from Keith Island, all the Parks Canada signs on the islands are written in English and French. For around two years, Gus said the nation has been in conversation with Parks Canada about replacing the signs to include the islands’ traditional names written in Nuu-chah-nulth, along with providing cultural background of the area. While the move is still in conversation, Gus and St. Claire remain hopeful. Haugen said that Parks Canada is committed to recognizing national heritage places that honour the historic and contemporary contributions of Indigenous peoples.
“Visitors have expressed great support for this program as developing appreciation for the area through in-person conversations with a beach keeper [that] can signifi cantly enrich their experience,” she said. Not only is the beach keeper program developing a greater sense of understanding for tourists, but it also instills Tseshaht with pride, said St. Claire. “There are Tseshaht members down there learning about their history and sharing it,” he said. “It heightens the awareness and appreciation of the nation members themselves. It educates them and makes them want to come down and see it for themselves.” When Tseshaht members do visit the islands, Gus said he can’t say “welcome to the islands.” “I say, ‘welcome home,’” he said. Note: The Tseshaht First Nation origin story was condensed for brevity.
