"The tears of the ancestors are raining down on us," said councillor Robert Joe to those gathered in the cold rain in front of the last residential school building on Sechelt Indian Band (SIB) lands.
Last Thursday began with a ceremony of remembrance and renewal. Speakers talked about abuse suffered and indignities imposed on them as young children while attending the school.
"I still have physical and emotional scars for not knowing how to say please and thank you in English," Jackie Timothy said. "This affected generations following. Once this building is destroyed, a great burden will be moved from my back I smashed a window this morning and felt a lot better."
Band members took turns speaking at a microphone while others, including dignitaries, politicians, community members and other First Nations people from various communities, witnessed the telling of their memories. "What people talked about was the sheer loneliness of the place how they would wear clothes to bed to try to protect themselves," Lori Dixon said.
Dixon and her sister were kept segregated from other children for three months in an attic because "we were getting out" and the clergy staff did not want the girls to affect the children who had to live at the school full time.
Joe and a second man told how Japanese dentists who could not communicate with the children worked on their teeth with no anesthetic. Philip Joe spoke about being a bed wetter as a little guy and being made to wear the soiled sheets on his head as he walked them to the laundry room. Then, he was made to go to school still smelling like urine. The teacher berated him and forced him to stand in the corner each time it happened.Willard Joe clearly remembers seeing Jackie Timothy being picked on and thrown around. The survivors bore witness to and corroborated each other's memories. Willard said it was only as an adult when he returned to the longhouse that healing began.
"Up at the longhouse, my healing opened up, my singing opened up, my [shíshálh] language opened up," he told the crowd.
Members thanked Phil Joe for having the courage to speak about the long-term effects of abuse. He reminded people that the generation before them were also residential schooled and mistreated, which contributed to the breakdown of their culture and society. He told how he too continued the abuse with his own four children and said he handed over the bulk of his residential school survivor cheque to them as part of his apology for repeating the mistreatment.
Survivors talked about their personal healing journey from victim to, in some cases, addict and abuser, to spiritually full, healthy adults wishing to move on from the days of darkness. Many recognized that several former residents are still too wounded to talk about what happened to them at school, but each had messages of hope.
Theresa Jeffries, elder and language teacher, said, "They tried to take our language away, but some of us were so stubborn."
"We have to own our history, physically grab it. We can't allow them to own us. We have to redefine ourselves," Dixon said.
From there, everyone filed into the building where Band members took turns swinging sledge hammers at the walls until light poured in through a seaside wall. People carried the wood outside where it was burned, and then elders with cedar boughs cleansed them. The rest of the day celebrated the Nation's anniversary of self-governance. The remains of the "dungeon" are set to be demolished in the near future.
