IRWIN

In seeking background material for The Urbariginal podcast, I originally asked the two eldest siblings but one declined and the other is too ill. So, I turned to the next oldest, Irwin.

Always helpful, Irwin said yes and, after a nice lunch at one of the local pubs, we went out to Port Ed so he could show me his and the family’s old haunts.

I was too young to remember much of Port Edward and Irwin was able to show me where we lived, where certain buildings were, and where the rock fights took place. Apparently, he and my oldest brother, Jeff, were notorious rock-slingers that other boys always had to be on the lookout for. Guys like the late Clarence Martin and famed indigenous artist, Dempsey Bob, were common victims of their wicked aim.

Indeed, it was Irwin’s tales of throwing rocks from under the dock at naked bums in the outhouses above that inspired my slingshot revenge scene in my novel, ALL NATIVE.

When Irwin speaks, he is very straightforward. There’s no hinting about or suggesting, no innuendo. He just tells it as he saw it, with complete sincerity.

The story of my dad reacting to a man threatening to shoot him by taking the end of the barrel and putting it against his chest and telling him to “go ahead and shoot me” was one of many that shocked me.

I was saddened by the story of my dad telling Irwin that he was being sent to reform school because he was bad and “it’s your own fault,” and then returning to get from my dad what “I think was the last time he hugged me.”

As I grew up in Prince Rupert, my dad’s violence became more frequent and when he came home drunk and angry, Irwin was often the first line of defense. We all took shots from my dad, at one time or another, but Irwin was the biggest kid and often put himself before us.

And yet, Irwin was very funny. His odd and dark sense of humor rubbed off on me, although I don’t use it as liberally as him - which may surprise most of my friends!

Laughter, as inappropriate as it was and coming from the darkest places, was something we all needed back then.

Irwin was also very generous and he, and some of the other siblings, would pay me generously to run out for hangover medicine like freezies at the store or Mr. Mistys at the Dairy Queen, both of which were five minutes away. I also ran and got the latest Marvel comics, a passion we shared.

Today, Irwin sits for my son Conall, and we occasionally have a games night or watch sports, sometimes a movie.

He also goes to garage sales every weekend, even though he still has a container full of junk he should be getting rid of.

He, like all of us, still has things he needs to let go.

URBARIGI-NOTES: Elders' tale of love and survival

I had already known Leonard and Mona Alexcee for decades, before I sat down to speak with them for the podcast.

I’ve always liked them and grew closer to them over the years as I would run into them at events, like the All Native Basketball Tournament, other cultural/tribal gatherings, and in Lax Kw’alaams.

Then, the podcast came along and, during the 2022 All Native tournament, I learned that they were celebrating their 70th wedding anniversary. 70th! The Second World War was still a fresh memory then. I had to interview them.

I missed them at the tourney but went over to Lax Kw’alaams, where they were now living with their son, Peter, whom they had stayed with in Richmond for a couple of years. The three of them jumped at the chance to return home when supportive housing became available in the village.

As the Alexcees got comfortable for the interview, I looked around the small abode. One of the old photos below the TV caught my eye: their wedding photo. Noticing that it had caught my attention, Mona said, “That’s your mom beside me, sitting down.”

I zoomed in on the picture. I have seen so few photos of my mom, virtually none of her as a child and only a handful as a young woman. She was beautiful. And, she looked so happy.

I was the ninth of ten kids she had. I only really knew the eight of us, that had grown up together. The oldest sister died in infancy, and an older brother was given up for adoption.

I didn’t know that young woman in the wedding photo. The only mom I knew was the one who worked her ass off, in the fish plant and at home and got little appreciation for it.

I turned and looked at Mona and Leonard who, along with their son, Peter, had gotten their regalia on because I told them I would take photos too. They were ready. I went and sat between them, not knowing I was about to record the most incredible story I have ever heard.

I will not recount the whole story because it’s best heard on the podcast, in their own words. Leonard, due to his health issues, didn’t say much but Peter filled in the gaps for him. Mona though, recalled a lot.

As their disturbing stories – Mona’s cruel treatment at an Indian hospital near Port Ed and Leonard’s difficult time at a residential school on Vancouver Island – poured out, I fought to contain my emotions, pulling on the journalism hat that I had not worn for so long, a little tighter.

So remarkable is their story that I did a follow-up interview with them for the podcast, and a third one for another project. You would have thought being asked to re-live their experiences three times would be too much but they were gracious hosts, always.

Mona’s story is not only special because of her recollections of the Indian hospital and how she and Leonard became married, but also because she tells us that she was living off the land, the river, before having to move into the industrial world of the fish plants. So, when someone says “That was a long time ago” and to “get over it,” I have to say “Excuse me?” and mention people like Mona.

Whenever I am in the company of elders, I always make a point to say hello, to give them a hand if needed. To talk to them and really listen.

It’s the least I can do, we all can do; to thank them, and acknowledge their strength and courage in being in front of us when the destructive waves of colonization rolled in.

Tomorrow, Len turns 90! Happy birthday, old friend.

"The Urbariginal" podcast is here!

Fifteen months.

That’s a lot longer time than I thought it would take to finish the project that I embarked on with CBC Radio and DayBreak host, Carolina DeRyk, in February, 2022. But, it is done, and I’m very happy with the result.

First dubbed “Gathering Indigenous Voices of the North Coast,” it was a general idea that would see me interviewing numerous people and would have two results: a bank of interviews with notable indigenous people in Rupert, and a podcast using some of those interviews.

When Carolina first asked me what I thought of my being involved, I said it was a good fit, with me being an “urbariginal,” a word that is a relative of the more insulting term, “apple.”

Calling someone an apple is suggesting that he or she is a sell-out who embraced white culture and turned his back on his own. An Urbariginal is someone who was raised in an urban setting and, as a result, knows little of their village and culture. I first heard it at a provincial Friendship Centres meeting many years ago.

The word got a “huh” look from Carolina that day but she would circle back around to it, and it would form the nucleus of the project.

I hit the ground running at the 2022 All Native Basketball Tournament which, due to COVID-19, had been canceled the previous year for the first time in 60 years. I did numerous interviews and saw that we could break them into topics, like residential schools, development on indigenous lands, and survival of the culture.

But then something happened along the way: I opened my big mouth.

Prompted by some of the stories I was hearing from people, many of whom knew my family and particularly, my dad, I started telling Carolina about my life; about how I came to be a reporter, how I grew up, and the role my father played in all of it. Her eyes sparkled. “That’s it,” she said.

We were still going to use most of the topics we had boiled it down to, but now they would have a personal angle, about me and my relationship with my dad and my culture. This led to additional interviews, with people who knew my dad well and our family history, which spanned Lax Kw’alaams, Port Edward and Prince Rupert.

I knew very little about my parents’ life in Port Ed and even less about their life in Lax Kw’alaams. The information I got about those times was enlightening, surprising, humorous, and heartbreaking.

I knew some of my father’s background but had many questions, including who he was raised by and how he was raised. The picture was murky, as it is with many indigenous elders. Since tribal roots (we follow our mother’s side) are paramount, uncles and aunts play as large a role, if not larger, than parents.

So, for my dad, his nieces and nephews were more his responsibility than we were – and they were treated much better. As a kid, you can imagine how confusing and hurtful that was to me and my siblings. If only we knew.

Besides my dad and family, the podcast explores my life, my demons, the decision to go to journalism school, and my efforts to work with my village. It also looks at larger topics, like the environment vs resource development, the role of the church and the impact of residential schools, and the significance of the All Native tournament.

Throughout the series, I explore how I have tried to find my place between the white and indigenous world, and accepted being an urbariginal rather than feeling inadequate in both spaces. A central theme in the series is the internal tug of war between the traditional and modern.

My education and hard life have made me pragmatic but I am also a romantic. So, while I see the value of development, I mourn the decline of the salmon and fret about the environment. I understand the efforts to preserve the language and culture but, when I look at the results, wonder if it’s working and worth the investment.

This project has been a long and difficult road, with many twists and turns, and so many questions still unanswered. It is a journey that, for me and so many other urbariginals, is far from over.

For more info, check out the audio trailer for The Urbariginal and subscribe at CBC Listen, Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Wai Wah!