Residential school survivors and their families gathered at Papermill Dam in Tseshaht traditional territory to welcome in a new school year and to find healing from memories of school years past.
The Teechuktl (mental health) event began with lunch at noon on Saturday, which allowed participants to attend the Fall Fair Parade, which took place earlier in the morning.
Quu’asa organizer Ruby Ambrose said the timing of the event was important.
“Back to school week is not a good memory for some of the survivors,” Ambrose explained. “We’re just bringing in the families for a fun day.”
Tseshaht readily gave permission for Quu’asa to hold the event in their territory, acknowledging that the notorious Alberni Indian Residential School (AIRS) operated on Tseshaht land.
“I am really happy that this event is taking place here,” said Tseshaht elder Willard Gallic in his welcome, which followed an emotional healing ceremony.
“We don’t want you to see Tsuma-as only as a place of bad memories.”
“I know there was a time when people came to our territory, and they were not happy,” said Nuu-chah-nulth Tribal Council president and Tseshaht member Deb Foxcroft.
Her late father attended AIRS, and it left him unable to display affection for his children. The goal of the healing process is to break that multi-generational legacy, she said.
“We know we’re not going to forget what went on, but we are here for our children, to help us move on.”
Ahousaht member and residential school survivor Tim Sutherland said he hadn’t made the connection with back-to-school week until recently. After attending Day School in Ahousaht through Grade 8, he was shipped to AIRS for Grade 9.
“I was up at the Fall Fair earlier, and I realized I was not able to go to the Fall Fair [while at AIRS]. I didn’t even know what a Fall Fair was,” Sutherland said.
Worse, some of the incoming children from up the coast had been able to attend the PNE in Vancouver and the Fall Fair in Port Alberni before they went through the intake process at AIRS.
“I was stuck on school clean-up,” he said.
And as many Nuu-chah-nulth who experienced the residential school system and even the public school system in Port Alberni have testified, Sutherland was subjected to a toxic learning atmosphere that crushed his appetite for further education.
“I was the top student at the Day School. Here, it was Cs and Ds,” he said. “After four years, I finally said, ‘Mom, I can’t do it anymore.”
Sutherland never returned to school, and worked mostly in the forest industry. But he closed out his career in a scientific role, performing cultural assessments of standing timber, to determine the value of traditional resources such as bark and medicinal plants.
Delores Keitlah is another AIRS survivor from Ahousaht First Nation. Like many, she occasionally experiences flashbacks.
“When I see a child of the age I was, and I realize they’re so free,” she said.
Keitlah noted that at AIRS, the children were kept year-round. She said she was fortunate she had a grandmother living in Port Alberni.
“We were able to get out of [AIRS], and we went to school downtown. We stayed with my Grandma.”
While many Nuu-chah-nulth had equally bad experiences in the public system, Keitlah said she had a generally positive time in school.
“That was the year the Dutch people came over, and we became friends.”
Now, she says, she is encouraged by how Nuu-chah-nulth children have had the opportunity to learn their language and culture.
“It feels good to see my grandchildren being able to sing and dance, and to talk about how we are as family,” she said.
On that note, when Trevor Little led the singers to introduce the healing ceremony, attendees marveled at two-year-old Jonathan Robinson, who picked up a drum and joined in the singing. Later, he performed solo in front of an array of smartphone video recorders.
Quu’asa Senior Wellness Counsellor Joe Tom Sr. spelled out the three-part ceremony for those who intended to make the journey.
“It’s time you take control of your life, and to clear your minds of that which we have faced for the past 100 years, so we can see the truths that our ancestors used,” he said.
“It is time to let it go and find something that is powerful for you, to be strong. We do not walk alone anymore.”
First, those who participated were given a small bough of spruce. After brushing, they were each escorted down the stairway to the edge of the river, where they were invited to toss their bough through a Circle of Spruce.
The next step was a cedar mat and a Circle of Cedar (representing strength). After passing through the Cedar Circle, the participant faced a painting representing the spiritual journey they were undergoing. The painting is dominated by a chaputz (canoe), a killer whale and a Moon and Thunderbird.
“You steer your own canoe,” Tom explained for Ha-Shilth-Sa. “The paddles are the principles to guide you. And the killer whale is your transformation.”
The next step was to take hold of a cedar rope. When the last person had completed the emotional journey, Tom called for them to form a community Circle, and then invited all attendees to join.
Children were invited to take a place in the centre.
Following Willard Gallic and Deb Foxcroft, Haahuupayak teacher and cultural instructor Trevor Little acknowledged that he had suffered the multi-generational effects of the residential school system. But surveying the gathering, and with a nod to the children at his feet, Little said Nuu-chah-nulth people have taken great, if sometimes painful, strides towards burying the legacy of the past.
“We are educated,” Little said. “We are not afraid any more. And our children will be even stronger.”
Following the ceremony, it was time for chumus (something sweet to eat). Guests were invited to take a piece of a special cake, which represented a birthday cake for the ancestors.
