St’at’imc First Nation

Aside from experiencing breathtaking wilderness from a saddle, the most exciting aspect of my upcoming horseback trip at Whistler Mountain is cultural. The ride itself is in Lil’Wat (pronounced “LEEL-wat”) First Nation Territory, and the tour operator, Copper Cayuse Outfitters, work in collaboration with the local First Nations community to keep the rides sustainable and mutually beneficial. I booked my stay for one of the two weeks each year when the ride is staffed by wranglers who belong to the N’quatqua (pronounced “n-kwat-kwah”) First Nation. Our N’quatqua hosts will share the history of the land and describe the impact of industry and development on the interconnected habitat and aboriginal communities, and on one evening we’ll be immersed in the indigenous culture through traditional cuisine, storytelling, and music.

Normally when I travel to another country, I try to learn a few phrases in the local language, starting with the equivalents of hello, please, thank you, and I want to call the embassy. The traditional language of the N’quatqua people is St’at’imcets, which is pronounced something like “STAT-lee-um-OOK” with the “k” sound at the end being soft and guttural. This is the language of the St’at’imc (pronounced “STAT-lee-um”) First Nation, which is composed of eleven distinct, self-governed communities including Lil’wat and N’quatqua. I quickly learned that a) pronunciation of St’at’imcets is daunting and b) not a lot of people speak it, so instead I’ve been watching videos about the St’at’imc Nation on YouTube, starting with short films about the region’s salmon and grizzly bears.

These documentaries immediately present an unfamiliar worldview. Salmon are not a resource; they are a way of life. Grizzly bears are our guides. In St’at’imc: The Salmon People, Chief Darrel Bob (Kukpi7, Kaxli’p) declares, “It’s critical that we look after our fish. It’s part of our family, of our life’s blood, of our history, of our people.” In The Guardians of the Land, Darwyn John of the St’at’imc Wildlife & Lands Association describes grizzly bears as sacred. “All my life growing up I was taught that the bears were our brothers. We were taught that the grizzly bear is the one who taught our people how to survive on the land.” He explains that by following and observing the bears, the St’at’imc learned what food and medicines to eat. The bears are also an integral part of the ecosystem. Grizzlies dig in meadows for tubers and insects to eat, and their digging churns the soil, helping to bury the seeds of plants which bloom and feed pollinators and softening the earth so it can absorb rain. Settlers saw the bears as competitors to be feared, rather than helpers. You can guess how that went. According to The Guardians of the Land, as of 2018 there were only 18 to 20 grizzlies left in the region and six females had been killed by men in the previous ten years, depriving the population of their offspring.

The view of settlers and white people in general articulated by the St’at’imc people in the videos I’ve seen is notable for both its clarity and lack of judgment. In St’at’imc: The Salmon People, Ruby McKay of the Ts’kw’aylaxw First Nation describes how each generation has passed knowledge, traditions, and skills to the next and observes that the big companies who dump waste into the rivers “don’t know or realize… They don’t see our elders eating the fish, they don’t see our youth eating the fish... They don’t see families come down here day after day after day to provide for their family for the winter. You know, so they don’t respect it. They do treat it like a toilet. It’s crazy.” In her webinar titled Inherent Title & Rights Introduction, Michelle Edwards of the St’at’imc Chiefs Council notes that the initial relationship with settlers was generally respectful and harmonious but later waves of settlers were greedy and more aggressive. “It’s something we have to take a look at,” she says. “Where did they come from and what were their teachings? Because they were taken away from their teachings.”

The St’at’imc are people of the land, Ms. Edwards notes. By comparison we, the settlers, were disconnected from our elders, ungrounded, visitors here. I’ve been thinking about that history of separation from our homelands and the teachings of our ancestors, what it feels like and how it shapes our view of ourselves in relation to the land and to the people and the animals who belonged to it long before our ancestors arrived. How we envy the aboriginals’ connection to their heritage and the land. Did our envy and our insecurity about our place here, our guilt-tainted claim to the land poison our hearts and foment the disdain and hatred expressed towards Native Americans and any darker-skinned people as well as those who arrived here later than we did? Is that why we are so easily threatened?

We are the Others. There are no Others.