My sit-spot is soggy today. Heavy grey clouds hang and the light is a dull grey, a sure sign that winter has arrived on the West Coast. Today, the colour of the water matches the colour of the sky, which contrasts sharply with the few brightly coloured trees still holding tightly to their leaves.
Few are out today – the community hasn’t yet adjusted to the season change and it will be a week or so until people re-emerge from their cozy homes, having bundled and gore-tex’d themselves against the weather. The end of summer always seems to come abruptly, before we’re quite ready for it, and this year is no different.
There is a small island visible from my sit-spot, and a sign which tells passer-by its history. The Island has been named Halkett Island, or ‘Island of the Dead’, as it marked the boundary between the Kosampson and the Swengwhung First Nations (known today as Songhees and Esquimalt) and was used by both as a burial ground. According to history, people from both nations would come to its shores for ceremony and celebration until 1867, when it was reported that some young boys from Victoria set fire to the island, evidently by accident, while they attempted to warm themselves by a fire after swimming (Halkett Island, n.d.).
Learning more of the history of this place has me wondering about its future, and how this place will be valued by generations to come. Will the wooden bridge be left to rot and disintegrate into the waters? Will the sewage and garbage re-take the shores? Will the entire area be filled with gravel to build high-rises, in an attempt to house an ever-growing population? Or will future generations recognize that this is sacred land? Will they continue to enjoy it, to protect it, to care for the animals and plant life that flourishes in the water and on the shores? Will they take respite in the cool waters when the summers inevitably get too hot to bear, just as we did during the heatwaves this summer?
I find it telling that I cannot find the traditional Kosampson or Swengwhung name for Halkett Island. It feels as if the stories of the significance that this tiny plot of land held for the Indigenous peoples of this area were snuffed out along with the fire that engulfed the graves – the only history of Halkett Island that now exists begins and ends with that fire. Like so much Indigenous history, knowledge, and language, the story of this place has been erased.
Firstnationspedagogy.ca notes that “First Nations storytelling is a foundation for holistic learning, relationship building, and experiential learning” and that in oral traditions, storytelling was used to teach cultural beliefs, values, history, customs, and ways of life. I wonder how many family histories, beliefs, values, and relationships were lost when this island went up in flames. Are there stories about this land that the Songhees or Esquimalt Nations now hold close, for fear that these too will be destroyed by those of us who have settled here? I wonder if, by writing my own history into this area, am I erasing another’s, just as those boys did when they set that fire?
But story not only holds us to the land, it holds us accountable for the land. When we feel connected to a place, we feel a certain responsibility to protect it, to see it flourish, and to see others enjoy it as we enjoy it. Indigenous knowledge teaches us that to respect the land is to live in harmony with it. To care for it so that our relations, 7 generations into the future, may also enjoy this land just as we do. In this way, I feel that the best way to pay my respects to those whose land I inhabit is to continue to tell the story of this land. I hope that by writing my story, my history, into this land which I so love, I am preparing myself to be its steward and to protect it so that all generations in the future may enjoy it just as I do today.
References:
Storytelling. (2009). First Nations Pedagogy.
Retrieved from https://firstnationspedagogy.ca/storytelling.html
Halkett Island. (n.d.). BC Geographical Names. Government of British Columbia.
Retrieved from https://apps.gov.bc.ca/pub/bcgnws/names/35075.html
Thanks Kaitlin! Story, done right, definitely has the power to hold us accountable to the land. That is part of what various expressions of Indigenous storytelling are about, bringing us to that connection. It’s also worthwhile to remember that the wrong story can do the opposite, that as discussed in Sium & Ritskes, some stories have the power to make us sick. Thinking about what it means to be in good relationship to the land, and the stories of the land, as you are doing when you consider what impact your own story might have on Indigenous stories of this land, is a meaningful way to think towards decolonial practices. And importantly, story done right also helps us experience gratitude, which is no doubt an important way to connect with land and each other.
Thanks,
Shandell