My viewpoint hasn't altered one bit, but when I was a child I knew that my grandmother Sarah was the most beautiful person in the world.
Many people would mistake her for Polynesian and though I wanted to be and look just like her, no one asked me if I was Hawaiian. Our grandmother had very beautiful dark skin and pure white shinny hair to contrast her striking complexion. She lived on the waterfront in a duplex and auntie Anne lived next door.
Growing up in Sechelt, like most, we spent a lot of time with our grandmother.
I was the second youngest of her 21 grandchildren and I slept beside her at night when I visited. She was an avid reader and enjoyed harlequin romances. She liked to smoke cameos during the day.
Granny Sarah had a quiet authority and a gentle assurance and love that she gave all of her grandchildren. It seemed like she didn't talk a lot, but when she spoke everyone listened. With all of her grandchildren that she raised, I only recall her raising her voice or speaking firmly twice.
In the summer time I would pick her blackberries and she would give me her hat to wear. It was a big straw sun hat, and I put it on and made my way to the berry patch behind her house. When other kids from the Band would walk by via the trail to and from the beach, I would hide in the long grass so that they did not see me wearing my granny's' hat. I would not dare take it off, so I would lie low and wait for them to walk by. When their voices trailed off and the butterflies would dance in the air, I would resume my picking. If it were someone else I was picking for they would probably not get my fullest bucket, but granny always got my best work.
One time late in December, Byron, my older cousin and I were Christmas tree hunting for Granny. We seemed to be many km into the bush. I was 10 at the time, so my perspective could be off a bit, but we found the most beautiful plush Christmas tree that we knew that Granny would love.
We climbed this tree that was on a ledge and with our little hatchet we took turns climbing and hugging the trunk so that we could chop the tree at an appropriate and manageable length.
Sarah Jane Baptiste (nee Jefferies) was born at sextalin, Indian Island, in Pender Harbour, in 1909. She carried the ancestral name xets'emits'a, married Anthony Daniel Baptiste and they lived and travelled throughout Queens Reach, Jervis, Narrows, Salmon, Sechelt, and Princess Louisa Inlet for work, logging and fishing. She was a midwife, and spoke both she shashishalhem and English fluently.
Our grandmother raised seven children and many grandchildren. She lived through epidemics, world wars, depressions and recessions. Many of her decedents, particularly her grandchildren, are now in their late 40s and 50s.
She has been in the spirit world for nearly 30 years, but continues to have a presence in our lives, in our cherished memories and in our hearts. Her life lived is remembered by our generation and it has become a benchmark for integrity, honour, loyalty and love.
Editor’s note: Candace Campo writes twice a month for Coast Reporter on the stories, history and events of the Sechelt First Nation.
