Soo Ts'yawh 'Ilho Zah Ts'inli "We Are All One"
TPazt'en Nation's Ancestral History of Yeko

by

Christopher D. Gall
B.A., University of Northern British Columbia, 2007

THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF
THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
MASTER OF ARTS
IN
FIRST NATIONS STUDIES

UNIVERSITY OF NORTHERN BRITISH COLUMBIA
May 2011

© Christopher D. Gall, 2011

1*1

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Abstract
This research is a community-based oral history project under the Tl'azt'en
Nation/University of Northern British Columbia Community University Research
Alliance (CURA) and focuses on the area around Yeko [Cunningham Lake]. Tl'azt'en
Nation is located in North Central British Columbia, approximately 65 km north of Fort
St. James. The Tl'azt'enne self identify as Dakelhne. Conducting this research into the
history and significance of Yeko, with members of the Tl'azt'en Nation Elders Society,
ensures that Tl'azt'tenne can pass on this important history about their land and culture to
the next generation. The information gathered was documented using written, audio, and
video techniques, according to the wishes of the Elders/experts. Archival research of
written sources has also been used to supplement the oral history. Three general themes
emerged throughout the research: Importance of Community, Learning of Traditions, and
Treaty. Each of the Elders discussed how close-knit the communities were in the past.

11

Acknowledgements
Thank you to those of you who have influenced my approach to this research and who
have encouraged me to continue on this path. First, I must express my sincere gratitude to
my thesis supervisor, Dr. Ross Hoffman, for teaching me so many valuable lessons and
for always making me feel like less of a stranger in this discipline. I am most fortunate
that I was afforded the opportunity and pleasure to know and to work under the
supervision of an individual who demonstrates relentless commitment and dedication to
his students. Ross not only supported my ideas, inspired my interest in doing research,
and encouraged me through the ups and downs of this project; but most of all, was a great
friend. Thank you seems too little.
I would like to thank the Elders for contributing to this research. Without their kindness,
openness and willingness to allow me access to both their community, and their inner
thoughts and feelings, this study would have an entirely different character. I thank you
for your trust and candor and for allowing me to have what can only be described as a
once in a lifetime experience. Specifically, I must thank Simon John who introducing me
to his people's history and who took a chance on my ability to do justice to this important
and fascinating topic. It has truly been life changing. This thesis would not have
happened without the dedication and hard work of Theresa Austin, who spent countless
hours transcribing, translating, and verifying the Dakelh. Thank you Beverly John for
keeping my work in check, and for organizing all aspects of the community work.
Thank you to the other members of my thesis committee. Dr. Gail Fondahl, for
introducing me to the Tl'azt'en Nation - University of Northern BC (UNBC) Community
University Research Alliance (CURA). Additionally, your thoughtful feedback and
guidance played a substantial role in this work. Karyn Sharp, thank you for your ideas,
support, and helpful edits.
I would like to acknowledge and thank the Social Sciences and Humanities Research
Council of Canada (SSHRC) through their CURA program and the BC Real Estate
Foundation Partnering Fund Grant, for funding my research. Thank you to Michelle
Gagnon, and others in the First Nation Studies Department, specifically, Dr. Antonia
Mills, for recommending graduate studies and for the many hours of discussion and
valuable support. Thank you to both Gloria George and Ivy Chelsea for your friendship,
advice, and for opening my eyes to new perspectives. I would also like to thank fellow
CURA graduate students, Shane Hartman, Diana Kutzner, Leona Shaw, and Deanna
Yim, for all of their assistance, advice, and for making this work fun. I would like to
thank my wife Lani for her patience and unwavering support throughout this process, and
thank you to my siblings Amy and Jeremy as well as my parents Bill and Lisa.

in

Table of Contents
1.0 Introduction
Prologue
The Beginning Of This Project
Locating Myself
Research Community
Tl'azt'en Nation Community Profile
Yekooche Community Profile
Research Purpose and Objectives
Locating the Research
Themes Within My Research
2.0 Methodological Approach and Perspective
Introduction
Oral History and Oral Tradition
The Oral Tradition According to the Elders
The Community-Based Nature Of This Research
Working With The Research Participants
Research Challenges
Historical
Political
Institutional
Geographical
Cultural
3.0 History As A Living Narrative:
Toponomy
Pre Contact
The Story of Nilhts'ik'ani [The Power of the Wind]
Traditional Life of the People (1800s)
Fish
Shelter
Dai Whuzdli': Starvation Time
Legend About Famine from Michel Morris:
Spiritual Beliefs and Practices
Fur Trade
The Portage Between Nak'al Bun and Nado Bun
Trade Goods
A Shift in Settlement: The Story of Adam and Rosa
Farming
1900s
Important Impacts on Yeko
1918 Flu Epidemic
1920s and 30s
Indian Residential Schools
Subsistence in the 1930s
Additional Stories of Yeko That Persist Today
PiusCho

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1
2
6
10
10
16
17
19
22
24
24
24
32
34
38
41
41
42
43
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47
48
50
51
53
54
56
57
59
61
64
69
73
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
92
92

iv

Jan Cho: Pius Cho's Brother
Old Joe Hanson
Falling Through The Ice
Don't walk on the ice
1940s
1950s and 60s
1970s
Present Day:
4.0 Making Sense Of My Experience Within This Research
Introduction
Importance of Community
'Uda Whuk'una Whuts'odul'eh: Traditional Learning
Concerns About Youth
Treaty and the Land
Overlap
Further Study
Conclusion
Appendix 1: Interviews
Appendix 2: Interview Questions

95
97
98
99
99
101
102
104
106
106
106
108
110
Ill
112
115
116
127
128

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List of Figures
Figure 1 - Tl'azt'en Nation Traditional Territory 1800s

12

Figure 2- Area Overview and the Road

78

vi

List of Tables
Table 1 - Principles guiding Indigenous research (Atkinson 2001:10)

40

vn

1.0

Introduction

Prologue
The 4x4 bumped and banged as we slowly made our way down the deactivated
forest road. This was my second time travelling to this place; the first trip, three weeks
earlier was much more muddy, although now the mosquitoes were far worse. I sprayed
myself down with repellent and then offered some to my companions. My thoughts
quickly drifted to those living here long ago... how could they have survived without bug
spray? The first trip had only brought me to the edge of this new landscape; new only in
terms of my experience as I would soon learn this place was truly ancient. That first trip
we explored the periphery, walking briefly through a meadow and along the adjacent
lakeshore. Thinking back on the idea of periphery as I write this, I feel as though this
whole project has brought me to the edge of a way of knowing and being strangely at
odds with my own, while at the same time not. This second trip was deeper, both in terms
of our travel within the territory as well as for me personally. I could barely hold back my
excitement as we neared the end of the road. Because I had grown up mostly in the city,
this road had provided my first "offroading" experience, and I liked it. The condition of
the road added to the sense I felt of exploring; not in any true sense as people from the
community still fish and hunt here regularly, but I felt as though I were travelling into the
great unknown. With each bump and bang, I was learning more of their territory.
We boarded Ralph Joseph's aluminium boat and were soon cruising down the
lake. As I scanned the wilderness around me, my senses heightened as I took in my
surroundings: new sites, smells, and even tastes as we hit a wave, sending a splash of
cool water into my partially open mouth. I was experiencing the place I had heard and

1

read so much about... Yeko. I closed my eyes for a moment and was overwhelmed by a
sense of wonder tied to this place and its importance, not just now but throughout history.
We will get to that later. First we must go back to the point where I started.
The Beginning Of This Project
"We have to talk about what we know... the way we know it" (Alfred Joseph:3
Oct. 2008). These words echo the desire of Tl'azt'en Nation to record the knowledge of
their Elders. It is because of this desire that I have been given the incredible opportunity
to participate in a community based oral history project under the Tl'azt'en Nation /
University of Northern British Columbia Community University Research Alliance
(CURA).1 This thesis is a fairly involved answer to a seemingly simple question: How
should we preserve memory of the past? Along the way, it tries to examine how what
may appear to be a fairly simple question is in fact rather complicated. As a society we
seem to have arrived at a place where traditional forms of knowledge have been replaced
by much confusion and ignorance. Somehow this most basic form of storing
knowledge—passing down one's history-—has come to require expert help. We have
moved to a point where we know very little of where we come from and how we have
come to occupy our present situations. While there are whole schools of study dedicated
to genealogy and preserving the past (History), we do very little of it ourselves (on a
personal or familial level).
This study was community driven and has involved the collection of knowledge
that pertains to Yekooche and Tl'azt'en Nation's ancestral home of Yeko (Cunningham

1

This project was titled "Partnering for Sustainable Resource Management" and was funded by CURA. I
will refer to this specific project throughout this thesis as CURA project.

2

Lake). The information collected includes oral history related to life and settlement
around Yeko and specifically the village site of Yekoozdli.
Growing up, oral traditions held an important place in my family, most often
spoken by my father. Invariably, this almost always took place around the campfire. I
was a cub scout and my dad was the Akela, or head leader of our pack. We always looked
forward to my dad's stories on our numerous trips. Whether they were personal
experiences, ghost stories, lessons, or all of the above, everyone went away with
something to think about. As children, my brother and I spent a great deal of time at our
cabin with dad, during which he would often teach us about life and our family history
while roasting marshmallows around the fire.
My first experience with oral history in an Indigenous context came while I was a
volunteer at a University function. Dr. Heather Harris, a professor in the UNBC First
Nation Studies program at the time, entertained a group of new students with some
storytelling. It was during this talk that she located herself and traced back her Indigenous
ancestry for hundreds of years, as well as her European heritage to the 1700s, when her
great grandmother was the country wife of a Hudson's Bay company clerk. Admittedly,
at first I was sceptical of her claims, but as she continued to speak my cynicism and
myopic assumptions gave way to a deep sense of wonder. I was amazed that she could
follow both sides of her lineage back that far; something I could not come close to with
my own family, and certainly not without giving it much thought. Oral history, one of the
most ancient and venerated staples of human culture, has all but disappeared in western

3

societies, supplanted by ink and paper and an ideal that the written word is authoritative.
Julie Cruikshank described the capacity of the oral tradition2 when she wrote:
Aboriginal oral tradition differs from western science and history, but both are
organized systems of knowledge that take many years to learn. Oral tradition seems to
present one way to challenge hegemonic history. It survives not by being frozen on
the printed page but by repeated retellings. Each narrative contains more than one
message. The listener is part of the storytelling event too, and a good listener is
expected to bring different life experiences to the story each time he or she hears it
and to learn different things from it at each hearing. Rather than trying to spell out
everything one needs to know, it compels the listener to think about ordinary
experience in new ways. Storytelling is possibly the oldest and most valued of the arts
and encompasses a kind of truth that goes beyond the restricted frameworks of
positivism, empiricism, and "common sense" (Cruikshank quoted in Calliou, 2004,
78).
Cruikshank's insight is rather profound. While this thesis contains extracts of Tl'azt'en's
oral tradition, it is really shaped by my experiences and the simple things I learned. My
hope is that this work will inspire those who read it to reflect upon it and broaden their
understandings and experience of the past. If one were only to gleam one thing from
Cruikshank's quote, as well as my research, may it be to listen. I have tried to listen well
and have learned a great deal as a result; I have learned about life, respect, and the history
and traditions of the Dakelh people, for which I am truly grateful.
While oral history is facing challenges in being maintained in Indigenous
communities, there has been a renewed push for preservation alongside the legitimization
of this knowledge form within the Canadian legal system. The 1997 Delgamuukw
decision stated that the oral histories of Aboriginal peoples must be given equal
consideration and weight to other forms of evidence {Delgamukw vs British Columbia).
Chief Justice Lamer maintained it was necessary to "adapt the laws of evidence so that
the Aboriginal perspective on their practices, customs and traditions and on their
2

Oral History refers to the transmission of historical information where as the oral tradition is broader in
scope and is multifaceted. It includes many cultural aspects.

4

relationship with the land, are given due weight by the courts" {Delgamuukw vs British
Columbia, quoted in Calliou 2004:75).
Coming up with a title for this thesis was difficult. I wanted to honour the Elders
and respect the importance of names as well as recognize the Dakelh language. The title
Soo Ts 'yawh 'Ilho Zah Ts 'inli or "we are all one" was a written statement I came across
by an Elder during my research in the Tl'az'ten Treaty Office. It fits the struggles of the
Dakelh people in terms of the current political division (which will be explained later)
and recognizes the common lineage out of the Cunningham Lake area, as these are
central tenets of the Elders.3
During an Elder's meeting on language and culture I attended in Tache on 14 May
2008, Grand Chief Edward John said, "we are all Elders in training." This struck me as
quite thought provoking. Even as a young man, how am I preparing myself to teach or
lead younger generations? I hope the lessons that form the learning journey presented in
these pages will be of assistance to Tl'azt'en Nation, and that in some small way the
information I have gathered and the stories I have recorded will help educate a new
generation of Tl'azt'en Elders to effectively lead their people, and continue to perpetuate
their language and culture. Thomas King once wrote, "For native storytellers, there is
generally a proper time and place to tell a story" (King 2003:154). According to the
Elders, for this story the time is now.

3

Although the people of present day Yekooche and Tache share a common relationship to Yeko, since the
communities have split there remains a difference of opinion among some as to whose territory it is. Please
see page 42 for a further discussion of this.

5

Locating Myself
My interest in Indigenous peoples and culture was developed at an early age.
While I was in grade four, I was introduced to First Nations people for the first time
while studying the Haida and Inuit peoples during Social Studies. Throughout the unit on
the Haida, we learned many details about their culture. Even though many of the
particulars I was taught at that time I have since learned are incorrect, an experience I had
during that unit affected me greatly and I have carried it with me ever since.
The incident I am referring to occurred when I learned about Haida spirituality
and Shamanism. The students were broken into groups and asked to mimic the healing
ceremony. I had several issues with this activity when it took place. First, it is important
to note that I went to a Christian school, and in this sense the ceremony was being
mocked. I did not appreciate this, as I could not help but think about 'ceremonies' I
performed as part of my belief system. The two that came to mind for me were saying
grace before dinner, and praying before I went to sleep at night. I knew I would not have
been comfortable with someone mocking these activities and could see how someone
could if they did not understand the intended meaning behind the actions. The shamanic
ceremony was being mocked in the sense that it was being presented as ridiculous and
without merit. Several students who were also uncomfortable with the activity had
different reasons. They described it as 'satanic' and felt by participating they might go to
hell. I appreciated their dislike in the activity, although I disagreed with their reasoning.
This was heavy stuff in our classroom. I remembered thinking that it would be so much
better to have a Haida person come in and teach us. From that experience I carried with
me a yearning to understand things. I knew that I had no knowledge of this fascinating

6

culture that was presented to me, and it was even clearer that my teacher knew nothing as
well. Something that is not understood should not be mocked, nor should it be
disregarded. It is with this attitude that I have approached my work as a student of First
Nation Studies.
In No Man is an Island where Thomas Merton wrote, "We make ourselves real by
telling the truth." He goes on further to say, "Man can hardly forget that he needs to
know the truth, for the instinct to know is too strong in us to be destroyed." (Merton
2005:198). I have always felt that I have needed to know the truth. This search for truth is
what led me to First Nations Studies as a discipline. Where history focused on the
writings and records of the colonizer, First Nations Studies seeks to present research from
an Aboriginal perspective. I hope to 'tell the truth'4 by presenting Tl'az'ten's perspective
as much as possible and by listening to the Elders whose voices I recorded. When
discussing both my education as well as my research, one of the most influential pieces
that continues to shape my journey is Neil Postman's short essay, My Graduation
Speech,5 which I also studied in Secondary School. In this work, Postman describes two
conflicting ideas: that of the Athenian, and that of the Visigoth. Since reading this work I
have strived to support the Athenian way. Postman writes:
To be an Athenian is to hold knowledge and, especially the quest for knowledge in
high esteem. To contemplate, to reason, to experiment, to question—these are, to an
Athenian, the most exalted activities a person can perform...
To be an Athenian is to cherish language because you believe it to be humankind's
most precious gift. In their use of language, Athenians strive for grace, precision, and
variety. And they admire those who can achieve such skill...

4

By truth I mean something balanced and grounded both m historical reality as well as the lived experience
of the Elders I want to tell their truth
5
While I am now able to question some of the historical accuracy of this dichotomy, the metaphorical
distinction is still of great value See Roger Collins Visigothtc Spain 409-711 2004

7

To be an Athenian is to understand that the thread which holds civilized society
together is thin and vulnerable; therefore, Athenians place great value on tradition,
social restraint, and continuity. To an Athenian, bad manners are acts of violence
against the social order...
To be an Athenian is to take an interest in public affairs and the improvement of
public behaviour. Indeed, the ancient Athenians had a word for people who did not.
The word was idiotes, from which we get our word "idiot"... (Postman 1992:187188).
Working on this project, I have seen the Athenian way practiced daily. Simon John, the
community member I worked with closely on this project personifies this idea. For him, it
is not inspired by the ancient Greeks; it was handed down from his Elders. Simon is on a
quest for knowledge. He hopes to uncover the past of his people and record the wisdom
and stories of the Elders before it is lost. Simon explains:
We need to reconnect our self and our people with the land... Our Elders don't get
around as much as they used to. It's harder for them to go out and teach us but there's
not enough young people willing to learn. If they don't learn now it's going to be
forgotten (Simon John: 13 March 2008).6
The Elders recognize Simon's passion and call him goozih [Whisky Jack], meaning
curious. Simon passionately pursues this work even without remuneration because the
importance runs deep, and the reward is assisting his people. Simon hopes to revive
cultural practice amongst the youth, focusing on language, tradition, and rebuilding a
sense of community. He explains:
It's been sort of a vision for me to find out where our ancestors came from long
ago... 'Uda' whuk'una nenats'oodilh is let's go back to long time ago. [This] is what
we're trying to do. With our Elders who are still alive we need to teach the young
people the history—this is part of it—our history of where our ancestors came from,
where they used to live and what they used to do—that's what we're aiming at, so
you young people, you'd know where you come from that's the whole thing behind
this. And with all of this we're going to start doing traditional camps... wherever they
used to gather to do medicine, berries, get ready for winter, do cache pits.. .You know
through government and like treaties and stuff like that, it tore families apart and you
know that's not right. You know, 'uda' whuk'una, they say, people used to work
6

Interview with Leona Shaw.

8

together, la hut 'en 'inle' they call that. Every way, they used to travel from Middle
River right to Babine, just to make fish. There was a reason behind that, you know,
nowadays you don't see that. You don't see people helping one another any more so
we need to go back there and learn as much as we can from them while we got a
chance 'cause our grandchildren will not survive the next ten years, I know it for a
fact, if we don't change (Simon John:5 June 2008).
Each of the Elders I have met has spoken about the lack of interest of the youth. It is
recognized that they are the future and must themselves become the knowledge holders
of the community or the wisdom will become lost. Alfred Joseph explains, "You know all
these things... our Elders left it for us to learn by it. And we're going to have to teach it
and we're going have to teach it hard to make our younger ones understand it (Alfred
Joseph:5 June 2008).
I do not consider myself an expert on Dakelh culture. As someone coming into
the community doing research for my Masters degree, I see myself as an ally and
assistant for the community. The Elders have been very gracious with a nedo7 [Dakelh
term for white man] who knows very little. In this sense I consider myself very much a
student, both of the university and the community in which I conducted this research.
Therefore, it is important for me to provide a cultural inventory of myself, in the spirit of
Edward Said's Orientalism (Said 1978:25): I am a non-Indigenous outsider. My belief
system is strongly influenced by the Christian tradition in which I was raised. My father
is of Germanic descent, and his family comes from the rural inter-lake district of
Manitoba. They were immigrant farmers. My mother is Danish and English. I was raised
in the urban centre of Vancouver and come from a middle class background. I am also an

7

1 use nedo here only because it is what I was called by each of the Elders. Nedo was coined by Father
Morice as the term for white man. The literal translation is ne - us and do - higher/above or "one above
us". This is a supposition of superiority I do not subscribe to, nor agree with in any way.

9

academic in that I have earned a degree in History, and conducted this research that will
be used for my First Nation Studies MA. I am a product of the Western education system.
In some way I suppose my interest in community history came in part from my
grandmother. Although I never knew her well, she had worked on a community history
project with other seniors and published a book in 1974 which outlined the settlement of
immigrant farmers in their region of Manitoba. I always enjoyed reading this book as a
child, and the stories and recollections it contains are some of the only aspects I know of
my grandparents' life and the generations of my family before them. Through this book, I
learned that my great great grandfather worked for a railroad survey crew travelling from
Ontario to British Columbia. I can only wonder if he travelled through the territory
around Ft. St. James and bore witness to some of the history I now study. I have pursued
this work because not only do I have a keen interest in it, I am convinced it has
tremendous value.

Research Community
Tl'azt'en Nation Community Profile
Tl'azt'en Nation is located in North Central British Columbia, approximately 65
km north of Fort St. James. Translated, the word Tl'azt'en means "people by the edge of
the bay" (Tl'azt'en 2006). However, it is translated as "people of the bottom or end of the
lake" by Father Morice8 (Morice 1893:26). The Tl'azt'enne self identify as Dakelhne, but
are also known as 'Carrier.' The Dakelh language is the traditional language of Tl'azt'en
Nation and is a part of the Athapaskan Language family (Tl'azt'en 2006). Daniel
8

Father Morice wrote extensively on the Dakelh people. However, his work is sharply slanted in that he
was working to 'civilize' and change their culture. Morice was highly egotistical, frequently contradictory,
and heavily biased in his writing. Unfortunately, his works represent some of the only records available of
missing HBC documents (some even suggest they were destroyed by him).

10

Williams Harmon, who was one of the first fur traders to live in the area, referred to the
people as "Tacullies" which he interpreted as, "people who go on the water" (Harmon
1911:242). The term 'Carrier' is taken from the French wordporteur, which in turn is a
translation from the neighbouring Sekanais term Aghelh Ne that means "ones who pack."
This term was originally adopted to describe how Carrier people traditionally transported
goods (Hall 1992:4). The meaning of Dakelh is said to be "on water travel" which
equates to a modern spelling with Harmon's definition. Father Morice attributes the
Carrier name to the practice of widows who carried the cremated remains of a deceased
warrior (Morice 1971:6).
Since time immemorial, the Tl'azt'enne have been located in central British
Columbia. Tl'azt'en Nation is situated just north of present day Fort St. James in the
forested uplands at the confluence of the Nechako Plateau and the Omenica Mountains.
Their traditional territory is centered on Stuart [Nak'al bun] and Trembleur Lakes (Morris
1999:30). Tl'azt'en's roughly 652,000 hectares of traditional territory has sustained and
provided for countless generations; their means of food, clothing, and shelter were found
all around them. Justa Monk recounts "unlike some of the Carrier bands that had to travel
many miles from their villages to reach their hunting territory and their traplines, our
traditional hunting grounds were all around us. The animals—moose, deer, bear, marten,
lynx, coyote—were just outside our door" (quoted in Moran 1994:35).9
Historic events, such as the establishment of Fort St. James as a trading post in
1806 had a fundamental influence on Tl'azt'en Nation and their traditional way of life
(Moran 1994). Fort St. James brought many profound changes to Tl'azt'en Nation, from
the introduction of tea and sugar into the Tl'azt'en diet to the monthly publication known
9

This was also reiterated during my interview with Justa Monk 24 Oct 2008.

11

as "The Paper that Relates", or Test'les nauhwelnek, by Father Morice in 1891 (Johnnie
and O'Hara 1992; Moran 1994). According to Lizette Hall, the fur trade dramatically
changed the practice of hunting from a primary source of subsistence to a means of
acquiring trade goods in exchange for furs (Hall 1992:70). Although my research
suggests that for many the subsistence remained the same. The Dakelh people merely had
new goods available that fit within longstanding trade relations with neighbouring
groups. For those that did experience a shift away from subsistence hunting, the change
occurred slowly.
Figure 1 Tl'azt'en Nation Traditional Territory 1800s
V

"

*s
Tl'azt'en Territory
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("Note: Yekooche is no longer a Tl'azt'en village; Source: Morris 1999)

Tache was never a permanent settlement historically;10 it was used as a rest stop
during travel, and was a seasonal fish camp. This changed slowly as social and cultural
impacts caused by the arrival of Europeans, encouraged the Dakelh people to settle in

Although there was a permanent settlement known as Tachy on Babine Lake.

12

permanent locales. Tache grew rapidly as Dakelh were encouraged to settle closer to Fort
St. James for the purpose of sending their children to Residential School, first in Fort St.
James, and then to Lejac Residential School, located outside of Fort Fraser.
Over the past 50 years, Tl'azt'en Nation has seen many significant changes as a
result of the hard work of dedicated community leaders, such as John Alexis, Justa Monk,
Pierre John, Ed John, Eugene Joseph and Harry Pierre. Some of these developments
include the installation of electricity and the water and sewage system. In the 1960s, the
government provided funding for a road from Fort St. James to Tache (Moran 1994). The
direct access that this road offered was the first of its kind on Tl'azt'en territory; as Justa
Monk explains, "when the road was built everything changed" (Moran 1994:20). While
accessibility was seen as a great benefit to Tl'azt'en Nation it came at a cost. Justa
recounts the wonderful sense of community before the existence of the road and how
during the winter people would travel between Tache and Fort St. James in large groups
with ten or more teams of horses. In the summer, travel was by boat and people stopped
to have tea and visit in the various communities on their way into Fort St. James (Moran
1994:18-20).
Today, Tl'azt'en Nation has a total population of approximately 1600 people,
with 500 members living off reserve. Tl'azt'en Nation is now comprised of four villages
identified as Tache [Tachie], Binche [Pinchi], Dzitl'ainli [Middle River], and K'uzche
[Grand Rapids] (Moran 1994). The largest village, Tache, is located on the shores of
Nak'al Bun [Stuart Lake] and is where Tl'azt'en Nation's elementary school, health
centre, and administrative offices are located. The Tl'azt'en Natural Resource/Treaty
Office is the administrative department that oversees issues related to resource

13

management. Traditionally, natural resources were managed solely through local
governance systems such as balhats [potlatch], keyoh [family territories] and the clan
system (Brown 2002, Hudson 1983, Morris & Fondahl 2002,).
The Tl'azt'en Nation traditional governance uses the Hereditary Clan System.
Today there are three clans. However, examining the Clans historically is difficult, as
anthropologists seem to disagree as to how many clans existed. This is due to the effects
of epidemics: rapidly diminished populations permanently altered the clan system. Hall
explains that the Dakelh in this area were comprised originally of two clans,
Lhts'umusyoo [beaver] and Lesillyoo [frog]. A third clan was added in the 1950s when an
extended family moved in from Takla Lake. This clan is Lohjuboo [bear/wolf] (Hall
1992:5, Austen 2009). I think the two clans as explained by Hall is due to a smaller
population requiring fewer clans1' and may not be historically precise. Hudson notes four
clans including, Granton [grouse] (Hudson 190). Morice (1893:203) also lists four gens
or matrilineal descent groups, each with their own totem: Grouse, Beaver, Toad, and
Grizzly Bear. According to him, the Grouse clan was the most powerful, and the Beaver
and Toad clans were a cohesive group offering "mutual consideration and protection"
(Morice 1893:204).
Clan membership was matrilineal and marriage within a clan was forbidden (Hall
1992). The land was divided into keyoh through the clan system. Within the keyoh
structure, families had access to a variety of resources and were set up as stewards of
their territory. The family head controlled the hunting, fishing, and gathering on the
keyoh (Carrier Sekani Tribal Council 1998). Justa Monk stated, "every family had its
1

' Several waves of epidemics had enormous effect on population levels. As such, two clans were probably
all that remained after significant population decline.

14

territory—its reef or sand bar for fishing, its area for hunting and trapping, its meadow
for hay"12 (Moran 1994:33). This reaffirms how effective Tl'azt'en traditional
management systems were in sustaining the Tl'azt'enne. Historical accounts of Tl'azt'en
Nation during the 1800s reveal that they had "clear control of resources at the local level"
during the fur trade era (Hudson 1983:85).
The territory and people of Tl'azt'en Nation have been significantly affected by
many industrial developments including the establishment of a mercury mine on Pinchi
Lake in the 1940's, the development of the forestry industry since the 1940's and the
construction of a railroad line by the Pacific Great Eastern Railway company (PGE) in
the 1970's (Morris & Fondahl 2002). In the face of the broad scale changes these
developments have brought, Tl'azt'en Nation is striving to maintain their cultural
identity.
The Tl'azt'en Elders Society is a registered non-profit society that brings Elders
and community members together to foster the transmission of language and culture.
Their mission is to "provide leadership by demonstrating traditional ways of doing
things. The Tl'azt'en Elders Society is committed to working towards unity, respect and
love for our people, land and animals through stories, gatherings and traditional
teachings. We are the knowledge holders and mentors to set footprints for many
generations" (Banner located in the Tl'azt'en Elder Center).13 Tl'azt'en Elders are
working hard to revitalize the Dakelh language and culture among the youth in order to
promote healing and foster a larger sense of community. Helen Johnnie explains:
All this we're trying to get the language back and the culture for the students, whose
growing up. After, us, we're gone, nobody is going to talk to them and nobody is
12
13

Hay was needed after the Dakelh began to keep horses and cows.
Both the building and banner were destroyed by fire in 2009.

15

going to teach them what to do. What we been doing long ago (Helen Johnnie:5 June
2008).14
Yekooche Community Profile
The Yekoochet'en [people of Yekooche] have lived in the Nak'al Bun [Stuart
Lake] area for thousands of years, situated in a rich area encompassing the Skeena and
Fraser watersheds. The Yekoochet'en, also known as the Portage Band, shared their
resources and knowledge with the Hudson's Bay Company, allowing them to establish a
lucrative fishery on Yeko Bun [Cunningham Lake] and to freight goods between Stuart
and Babine Lakes. The Yekoozdli village site at the mouth of the creek was the original
settlement of the Portage band. It was the site of a fish weir and a productive whitefish
fishery. The Yekoochet'en gradually settled at their current location at the head of Nak'al
Bun [Stuart Lake] in the 1880s. The current village is known as Yekooche or Portage.
Many continued to maintain cabins and smokehouses at Yeko.
After contact, the Yekoochet'en saw their rights and way of life consistently
eroded as non-indigenous trappers, prospectors and resource companies were given
access to their traditional lands. During this time many children were removed from the
village at Portage and sent to residential schools, where they were prevented from using
their own language or practicing their cultural beliefs. In 1959, for the purposes of
settling reserve land disputes, the Federal Government amalgamated the communities of
Tache, Pinche, Yekooche, Kuzche, and Dzitl 'ainli into one large Band called the StuartTrembleur Lakes Band. In 1987, the Stuart-Trembleur Lakes Band changed their name to
Tl'azt'en Nation (www.yekooche.com).
14

1 am leaving the Elders words untouched unless clarification or context is needed; as such, their grammar
and vernacular remain unmarked by [sic]. Some punctuation has been added in order to improve flow for
the reader.

16

In 1994, the Yekooche Band separated from Tl'azt'en Nation to form a distinct
band known as the Yekooche First Nation (www.yekooche.com). After the communities
split, many Yekooche Elders remained in Tache.
Research Purpose and Objectives
There is an old saying, "you cannot tell where you are going, unless you know
where you have been" (Unknown). This profound advice has been fundamental not only
personally, but succinctly describes the raison d'etre for this project. My research has
developed a community-based documented history that records Tl'az'ten Nation's
settlement at Yeko (Cunningham Lake). In order to preserve this area and the knowledge
pertaining to these sites, it was important to document the stories and experiences of the
Elders. The documented information about the land and settlement may be used further
for educational purposes as well as for the restoration and protection of these important
areas. Upon the conclusion of the research, Yekooche and Tl'azt'en Nation agreed to
participate in an archaeological dig of the area to "ground truth" the oral and written
record. Unfortunately, Yekooche later declined involvement and Tl'azt'en Nation
changed the location to another village site (Binche).
Through my thesis, I hope to be able to take the reader on a journey through the
territory and present the power that comes from stories and lessons when the Elders go
out on the land. The Tl'azt'enne are also interested in using this research to build
excitement among the youth, and to perhaps begin to take them out to the sites with
Elders, where they can be taught the stories. My goal was to produce an excellent piece
of Indigenous research,15 centred on a First Nations perspective and worldview. As a
15

By Indigenous research I mean presenting an aboriginal perspective as much as possible.

17

non-Indigenous outsider, I tried my best to be as open as possible to understanding new
perspectives and ways of knowing. In this sense I aspired to carry out my research in
ways that were respectful to the community and to each individual with whom I came
into contact. I focused on building relationships and recognized that how I brought
myself to the community would dictate how they in turn would respond to me.
To develop a community-based documented history of Yeko, I partnered with
members of both Tl'azt'en Nation and Yekooche Nation to record the oral stories they
were willing to share. I employed qualitative methods, such as an Elder retreat, focus
groups, open-ended conversational interviews, as well as referring to archival and
published sources that document their history. Information was obtained only with
permission of Elders. In contrast to previous written historical accounts of Indigenous
people, my research has strived to focus on the Tl'azt'en perspective, and draw
knowledge from the community, using archival research and published sources only to
complement the oral testimony. Alfred Joseph explains, "I'm sixty-nine years old, many
of us Elders we won't last very much longer and we're all worried of how to convey
this... put it in book so that it can be taught in school, even in university" (Alfred
Joseph:5 June 2008). As Willie Mattess stated to me:
We got to make at least one book the way people gonna understand it. We make one
book, we're on the way—what I want to see is, why I'm here is, I want to see these
young people control everything. That's what I want to see, it's not my future, it's
those people like you—your future. Right now there is nowhere to turn to, nothing
(Willie Mattess:26 January 2009).
This document will be made available to community members as well as the community
school in order to educate Tl'azt'en youth about their past. Additionally almost all facets

18

of my research have focused on capacity building with members of Tl'azt'en Nation.
This will be touched on further.
Locating the Research
I have been greatly assisted by the Tl'azt'en Nation UNBC Community
University Research Alliance (CURA) project protocols (which were invaluable in
helping me to carry out this research in a respectful way), as well as the Tl'azt'ten Nation
Guidelines for Research within Tl'azt'en Territory (1997), developed before the CURA
project. I also had several community members working alongside me during the
research. I have framed my project as an oral history. It is Indigenous research in that I
hope a First Nations perspective is presented through the oral stories. These are
augmented using archival research and an academic perspective. This is also participatory
research in that the community was the driving force behind the project, and approached
me about doing the research. They have been involved from the beginning to the end.
They were directing the research, and it is theirs. I was not in control.
This project involved producing a written history for Tl'azt'en Nation to be used
as an educational tool to teach the community about their past.16 Early settlement sites in
their area have been given very little critical attention to date. In fact, this project is one
of the first to document the location of such sites, and record the stories Elders share
around these places. The project focuses on the area around Yeko [Cunningham Lake],
which is where most of the Trazt'enne were settled before the arrival of the fur trade.

16

The goal of this thesis was not to theorize nor follow a western theoretical construct due to the
indigenous community-driven nature of this work.

19

CURA is supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council
(SSHRC). It is a partnership between Tl'azt'en Nation and UNBC. The goals of the
partnership are as follows:
The purpose of the Tl'azt'en Nation-UNBC CURA project is to enhance the capacity
of Tl'azt'en Nation to effectively engage in culturally and ecologically sustainable
natural resource management, and to enhance the capacity of UNBC researchers and
their students to effectively contribute to First Nation community needs through
collaborative research (http://cura.unbc.ca').
It is an equal partnership that benefits both Tl'azt'ten and UNBC. The objectives of the
partnership provide an excellent means of fostering mutually beneficial relationships, and
demonstrates what can be done in relation to some of the issues FNST programs face in
terms of incorporating Indigenous knowledge holders into the academy. The objectives
are:
• To strengthen the cultural development of the Tl'azt'en community by capturing
resources and expertise to promote the transfer of TEK from older to younger
generations.
• To enhance the social and economic potential of the Tl'azt'en community by
providing the expertise to facilitate the development of alternative, culturally
appropriate environmental/science curricula for Tl'azt'en youth; and by providing a
map to ecotourism development, informed by robust research and Tl'azt'en values.
• To provide graduate training experience with First Nations partners that will foster
knowledge of cross-cultural research requirements and experience in communityrelevant research.
• To provide training and enhance research capacity among Tl'azt'enne in areas
important to integrated natural resource management.
• To improve First Nations content across the curricula of UNBC s academic
programs.
• To ensure research results are available to regional, national and international
audiences; and
• To enhance the potential of UNBC and Tl'azt'en Nation to develop and strengthen
their partnerships (http://cura.unbc. ca).
The research objectives of the CURA Project further Indigenous research by helping
researchers carry out their work in a respectful manner.

20

The CURA project has four different knowledge streams: Ecotounsm, Improved
Partnerships, Science and Environmental Education, and Traditional Ecological
Knowledge. This research fits within the Tl'azt'en Ecological Knowledge Stream. The
research stream, 'Perpetuation of Tl'azt'en Ecological Knowledge' has been researching
methods of recording traditional knowledge, that will allow Tl'azt'en Nation to record and
perpetuate their Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK) and provide training to
community members to continue this work on their own. This project will serve to further
Tl'azt'en's goals in "developing curriculum material to enhance educational objectives"
(cura.unbc.ca). This goal has also been an important part of my research, as I was
expected to give something back to the community for their use. My community product
is a written document of their history that combines Tl'azt'en and Yekooche oral history,
with the written historical record that can be used in the schools.17 The specific goals of
the TEK stream are "to gather information on medicinal uses of plants, traditional
Tl'azt'en place names, and Aboriginal perspectives on forest health. This information will
enhance the knowledge of UNBC researchers, and provide valuable resources for
Tl'azt'en Nation" (http://cura.unbc.ca). It is expected under this stream that researchers
will "learn interview methods, and develop and practice interview protocols with TEK
experts" (http://cura.unbc.ca). This is an extremely important part of being respectful, and
carrying out Indigenous research. It will be discussed further in Chapter 2.

17

Additionally, I helped facilitate an archaeological dig, and completed a volunteer internship with the
Tl'azt'en Elders Society During this internship I helped create an archive and database of their materials,
and assisted with digitizing their collection

21

Themes Within My Research
What I try to do in this thesis is approach the question How should we preserve
memory of the past? in some ways as an ethnographer might, using the long lens of First
Nation Studies and History, as well as the shorter, more intimate lens of my personal
experience. As I went through this process and sat with the Elders I began some deeper
reflection. What we remember represents a profound engagement with the natural world.
It is deeply rooted in place. Daily, our interactions turn memory into culture,
transforming the past into our traditions and shaping our way of life. The very notion of
memory seems increasingly obscure. I realized the straightforward question "Why should
we remember?" could not be answered without first addressing two other even more
straightforward questions: What are we remembering? And where did it come from?
These are questions I will be exploring further.
Language plays an important role in this research. As a nedo and non Dakelh
speaker (like many of the youth), I include both English and Dakelh where spoken by the
Elders. Judge L. Shaw writes:
Language is not only the medium, by which all our thoughts, feelings, emotions, and
ideas are obtained from and communicated to others, but language is the instrument
by which the mind itself acts. This is so true, that we think in words, we cannot
reason or reflect, except by words. They are the very material on which the mind
works, and the implements with which it works (quoted in Postman and Weingartner
1971:128).
Language is not only a means of communication but words themselves are thoughts.
Thus, "[w]e cannot think without words" (Rauser 2008). This is insightful because, for
many of the Elders, thinking about their culture and traditions required Dakelh}% I hope

18

The Elders were free to participate in both English and Dakelh depending on what they were most
comfortable with. As a result, one interview was completed entirely in Dakelh, and one entirely in English.
The rest were completed with the Elders switching between the two languages.

22

that including pieces of Dakelh throughout this thesis will serve the community by not
only improving their ability to communicate in Dakelh but also to reason and reflect and
become more engaged in their world around them.
This journey has been a long one for me; not only personally, as my passion and
choices have brought me to this place, but also in terms of this research (which took two
and a half years). Sometimes things were tough and the trail was steep, but with Simon
John as a guide through the community work and Dr. Ross Hoffman directing me
through the academic landscape, I eventually arrived at my final destination. Throughout
this personal journey I have travelled extensively but invariably found myself in almost
the exact same place: sitting around a campfire. The campfire has served as a gathering
since time immemorial. It is a place for kinship ties and connections. It encourages one to
learn, reflect and distil knowledge, perpetuating the oral tradition that is deeply rooted in
place. As a metaphor it fits both my upbringing as well as Dakelh culture. In this sense,
the campfire bridges both cultural and generational divides. It is here (at the campfire)
where we will conclude our journey together at the end of this thesis.
This thesis unfolds in the following manner: Chapter 2 examines my
methodological approach and perspective, while also reviewing the literature on the
various subjects. Chapter 3 presents a chronological account of the history of Yeko as I
have learned it. Chapter 4 looks at some of the present challenges faced by Tl'azt'en
Nation, suggestions for further research, as well as my conclusions.

23

2.0 Methodological Approach and Perspective
Introduction
There is an African proverb that states, "Every time an Elder dies, it is like a
library has burned down" (Calliou, 2004:73). It is out of this realization that my oral
history research project was born. This chapter illuminates the theoretical and
epistemological predisposition guiding this research and analysis. Primarily, the aim of
this chapter is to settle on a perspective that is informed by both the academic discourse
as well as Aboriginal traditions.
Oral History and Oral Tradition
Oral history is concerned with how people construct or make sense of both their
experience as well as their past. Judy Larmour defines oral history as:
Oral history records personal reminiscences that are of historical significance,
focusing on impressions, attitudes, feelings and description, rather than facts. Oral
history allows us to gather information about everyday things, daily routines of work
and living that are not usually recorded, and the experiences and perspective of those
whose opinions are not often found in written documents (Larmour quoted in Calliou
2004:80).
In this way the knowledge presented in this thesis seeks to supplement, complement, and
contrast written history by adding the Tl'azt'en perspective. In this sense I have relied on
the Elders for direction and guidance. As Joseph Couture writes, Elders "as carriers of
oral tradition, are the exemplars, the standing reference points;" they have much to teach
about perception, understanding, and ways of knowing (Couture 1991:61).
While parts of this thesis are certainly oral history, much of the content is larger in
scale. Linda Smith, discussing contested histories writes:

24

For Indigenous peoples, the critique of history is not unfamiliar... contested stories
and multiple discourses about the past, by different communities... is very much a
part of the fabric of communities that value oral ways of knowing. These contested
accounts are stored within genealogies, within the landscape, within weavings and
carvings, even within the personal names that many people carried. The means by
which these histories were stored was through their systems of knowledge. Many of
these systems have since been reclassified as oral traditions rather than histories
(Smith 1999:33).
Is "oral tradition" less valid than Western history? I consider that "oral tradition" is valid
because it is respectful of the breadth of knowledge contained by the traditional
knowledge systems, which goes far beyond just history in scope.
I have also been deeply influenced by Michael Blackstock's thesis Gyetim Gan:
Faces in the Forest, in which he sets out to write his thesis in a style, "similar to those of
Hugh Brody and Greg Sarris which appeals to the curious and contributes to reaffirming
First Nations history and world views" (Blackstock 1996:4). Brody describes his work in
Maps and Dreams:
It is a book of anecdotes as well as a research report, its structure being the result of
an attempt to meet two different needs. The problem is one of audience; or an
awkward tension between a wish to maintain a sense of universal concern without
losing a feeling for a particular place. For writings that grow out of resistance to
colonialism, this problem can be overwhelming. There is a need for scientific detail,
evidence that must stand the test of scrutiny... (Brody 1988:xxiii).
Being non-Indigenous, I cannot bring my own First Nations perspective, but that aspect
comes out of the oral history, through the Elders. My approach is multifaceted in terms of
combining archival research, oral history, published sources and my own academic
knowledge. This work combines western academic perspectives in a complementary way
to the First Nations ways of knowing.19 The goal is to benefit the community with the
results, and enable them to move forward and pursue what will hopefully someday lead
to an archaeological validation of what I record.
19

Through the use of both written and oral history.

25

Another aspect that informed my work is the theoretical framework Blackstock
developed for his thesis, a perspective that he calls "ego-edgism," which is defined as "a
personal perspective or world view, in which one's ego is equal, but different among
others." He goes on to describe how this enables him to present a balance between First
Nations and academic ways of knowing:
My ego is not central to this thesis: my ego is on the edge as I guide the reader to
listen to Elders as local experts share their knowledge of tree art. Ego-edgism can be
visualized by thinking of a group of people from First Nations and non First Nations
cultures sitting around the edge of a circle sharing knowledge as respected equals
(Blackstock 1996:6).
Ego-edgism is a forum for sharing knowledge; a two-way exchange (Blackstock 1996:67).
Another perspective that comes into play throughout my thesis is storytelling.
Leroy Little Bear explains: "Anyone can participate in educating a child because
education is a collective responsibility. Storytelling is a very important part of the
educational process. It is through stories that customs and values are taught and shared"
(Little Bear 2000:81). Robin Riddington describes the development of his writings:
"Rather than use a style that mostly reflects the experience of scholars within academic
anthropology, I searched for a language of translation that would do justice to the Indian
style of teaching through which I gained my knowledge of their culture and their
experience. That language, I discovered, is one of storytelling" (Riddington 1990, xiii).
With my previous experience, as well as my current work with Elders, this perspective fit
well. Some of my most profound learning has come from sitting quietly and listening.
Each story bursting with knowledge—and filled with deeper meaning, had specific
lessons to be learned, whether I picked them up at the time or understood them in the

26

future. Stories contain elements of the past and suggestions for the future. Riddington
contends that:
A group of people bonded together by ties of kinship and generalized reciprocity
were expected to be in possession of all the knowledge required to bring about the
life-sustaining potential of their environment. They considered their own mental
powers to be the most significant carrying devices available to them. These mental
powers were guided and informed by their stories and training techniques
(Riddington 1990:95).
This concept fits well with the goals of Tl'azt'en Elders to bring back language, culture,
and traditional knowledge on the land. My research is part of this process for the
Tl'azt'enne. Ted Chamberlin and Hugh Brody contend, "The stories we live by define
our relationship to the natural and supernatural worlds, to place, to the past, and to each
other. They give us a sense of who we are, and where we belong" (Brody and Chamberlin
1993:1). This describes the same passion the Elders brought to this project. The Elders
see understanding the past as a way to improve the future.
Jo-ann Archibald explains that, "It is important to preserve oral traditions, but
perhaps even more important to let them preserve us. Oral traditions support us when we
are challenged, and can show us the way if we let them" (Quoted in Lawson 2001:11).
During this research I was not only revealed Tl'azt'en ways of being and knowing while
connecting with the Elders and community, but came to understand my responsibility to
these connections. At the start of my interview with Willie Mattess he told me to wait,
and began discussing the problem of errors in almost everything written about his people.
He went on to say, "Got to make one book at least the right way and get to see that while
we're alive... because that one book is done right." When I discussed my consent form
and asked about using his name and quotes in my material he responded, "not unless you
really complete your book. Then if you want my signature on it, I'll put my signature"

27

(Willie Mattess:26 January 2009). Willy is very much a guardian of his community, and I
appreciate that he held me accountable to complete this work, and do it well.
Joyce Schneider explains, that "Many First Nations see education and its western
trappings of research and documentation as tools to be utilized in establishing [their] own
[Indigenous] ways of knowing as valid and acceptable in mainstream society through the
documentation of the oral histories and traditional knowledge of [their] Nations
(Schneider 2007:18). It does concern me that while I am writing and documenting at the
request of the Elders, some would consider this the weakening of the oral tradition and
the traditional transmission process for such knowledge. Every story has a context, a time
and place in which it is meant to be told. By writing it down, this context is removed.
Thomas King explains, "The printed word, after all, once set on a page, has no master, no
voice, no sense of time or place" (King 2003:154). Elsie Mather, a Yup'ik educator and
language teacher, adds: "We are living in the age of literacy. We write everything down,
and expect everyone to be able to read" (Mather, 1995:90 quoted in Schneider 2007:25).
So why write down the oral traditions? Mather goes further to explain, "The desire to
preserve and perpetuate oral traditions is ambiguously linked with the process of writing
them down" and admits she is trying to "come to grips with the 'necessary monster' of
literacy in relation to the transmission of her Yup'ik Eskimo language and cultural
ideals" (Mather quoted in Schneider 2007:25). Writing down the oral traditions is really a
necessary evil. It is often the only means of preservation in communities where they are
being lost. In a chapter entitled The Medium is the Metaphor, Postman (1985) argues that
it is not the message communicated through a particular medium that is significant, it is
the medium used that makes the difference (Postman 1985:10). For example, in an oral-

28

based society people valued memorization as the highest truth; yet, in a print-based
epistemology, this is "merely charming" and "functionally irrelevant" (Postman,
1985:25). Therefore, each new medium leads to a new discourse and a new way of
knowing and being.
Context is important in understanding the oral tradition. Meaning is created in the
context and includes the storyteller, the audience, the time, and the place. In order to fully
understand the story one must be "experienced and perceived in that context" (Couture
1991:54). By spending time with the Elders I hoped to accomplish this in some part but
also recognize many of the Elders' lessons require deeper knowledge and contemplation,
which can be understood slowly as "the business of a lifetime" (Ibid). King contends,
"when Native stories began appearing in print, concern arose that the context in which
these stories had existed was in danger of being destroyed and the stories themselves
were being compromised" (King, 2002:153-54). Writing down the oral traditions does
not preserve their integrity fully; their nuances and deeper meanings are lost. In order to
preserve them one must engage the oral tradition and participate in the relationships,
reflect, remember, and pass it on. Indeed, participation in the oral tradition carries with it
substantial responsibility. As noted above, listening is only a small part of the process.
Specifically, relationships must be developed and maintained with knowledge holders.
Once a story has been imparted, the listener is charged not only to remember it, but to
also ponder it. Subsequently, only then is it to be retold. Stacy Michelle Rasmus explains,
"Oral history in context was intended to be a very intimate process where it sustains the
humanness of things or the humanness of interactions among people" (Rasmus
2002:293). This is what made my time on the land so powerful; I was hearing the history

29

in context. Context is clearly important: "Oral traditions... have social histories, and they
acquire meaning in the situations in which they are used, in interactions between
narrators and listeners" (Cruikshank & Sidney 1995:70). This interaction cannot take
place between a reader and a book; there is no connection between purpose, time, or
place. The writer and/or reader cannot adapt to a range of circumstances on the page. I
acknowledge these limitations with this work. Listening to the same story more than once
provided the opportunity to reflect both on the nuances of the tellers and the details they
shared, but also how the occasion or location shaped the story as well.
My main purpose is to conceive a history not based solely on written documents
but one that gives equal weight to the oral tradition. Kulchyski writes, "Where Native
Studies engages in historical scholarship, it does so with a much greater recognition of
the importance of the oral record, of the testimonies of Aboriginal people whether
recorded on archival documents or recorded by the historian" (Kulchyski 2000:21). To
this end, the idea of myth has been one I have needed to wrestle with. The writings of
Claude Levi-Strauss have been instrumental in this regard. Levi-Strauss describes
mythology:
[A] myth always refers to events alleged to have taken place in time: before the world
was created, or in its final stages—anyway, long ago. But what gives the myth an
operative value is that the specific pattern described is everlasting; it explains the
present and the past as well as the future (Aural History 1977:3).
In his Massey Lecture presented in 1977, he states:
The problem is: where does mythology end and where does history start? In the case,
entirely new to us, of a history without archives, there being of course no written
documents, there is only a verbal tradition, which is claimed to be history at the same
time (Levi-Strauss 2008:303).

30

Further, "What we discover... is that the opposition—the simple opposition between
mythology and history which we are accustomed to make—is not at all a clear-cut one,
and that there is an intermediary level" (ibid 305).
This blurred distinction is where I hope to locate this work both—historic and mythic.
Levi-Strauss defines the purpose of myth: "that for societies without writing and
without archives the aim of mythology is to ensure that as closely as possible—the
future will remain faithful to the present and to the past." (ibid 307). It is in this hope
that the Elders share their knowledge, to encourage the continuation of their ways of
knowing and being, and that their way of seeing reality may continue.
Through this research I present and incorporate the multiple perspectives that I
have discussed, but most importantly I hope to have carried out this research in a manner
that gives back to the community, opens a dialogue creating a two-way exchange of
ideas, and not just as a benefit to those whose work lies within an academic context.
While there were some challenges involved in this research project, ultimately I think the
goal of the Elders as well as their willingness to be involved attest to the substance and
the value of the work.
There is a scarcity of knowledge on the subject I am exploring. Only a few of the
Elders can recall the stories and locations their people once inhabited. Conducting this
research into the history and significance of the dwelling sites ensures that Tl'azt'tenne
can pass on this important history about their land and culture to the next generation. The
Tl'azt'enne have a deep cultural, emotional, spiritual, and economic connection to the
land. Many Indigenous groups whose culture and lives depend on the land share a similar
perspective. Hugh Brody touches on this in The Other Side of Eden. For the Inuit, "to
know this particular territory is to prosper; neither the land nor the knowledge of the land
can be replaced. A territory is made perfect by knowledge" (Brody 2000:35).

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The Oral Tradition According to the Elders
We Indians, we live by unwritten law, we don't carry around a whole bunch of
books—we carry it in our heads for survival (Alfred Joseph:5 June 2008).
This project came from a desire of the Elders to record their history in order to
help revitalize their language and culture. Pierre John imparted this desire when he said,
"We gotta try to teach them what we know, how we survive, where we survive, what we
survive on and to teach them to depend on them self because if we're gone they got
nobody to depend on, they can't depend on us anymore" (Pierre John: 18 September
2008). Henry Abel Joseph explained many Elders feelings when he shared the following:
Like Auntie Margaret was telling me the other day 'there isn't enough working
together, there's too much bickering, there's too much hard feelings. This place is
gonna wither away', that's what Auntie Margaret told me just two days ago. We're
going to disappear out of here, there's going to be nedos living everywhere in log
houses and doing what we're supposed to do. We can't handle that, we can't have our
language die and we can't have our children go and die in the streets and we can't
have our children not knowing their own identity, we can't have our children not
know their language, we can't have our children not go to the garden and eat a
healthy diet for them, we can't have our children [not] use an education, look at how
empty this three million dollar school is. We ought to have this place teaching those
things, teaching about the culture and the language. We ought to have up to grade ten
teaching / learning our language. It's our fault, what we don't have here, it's all our
fault. It's up to us to get organized and do what we must. Like Alfred is always
pointing out we can't run to the band office and say somebody kick in my door, I
need a door knob. Alfred's advice is go on back and fix his own door (Henry Abel
Joseph:5 June 2008).
The Elders are concerned about the accuracy of their knowledge: "All of us must
be right, there is no room for error we have to watch when we do work like this—
information must be accurate" (Alfred Joseph:5 June 2008). As Alfred Joseph told me on
another occasion:
This is the way I knew it, and the way I see it. Some things are proven facts, based on
facts of what I seen and heard and did. Most of it, like Pierre too, he warn me, he said
'tell it like you know it', say 'don't try to guess around or anything'..." (Alfred
Joseph:3 October 2008).

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Pierre John recalls the guidance of his Grandfather, Soo khuni be no 'ulhyasduk-i dahts 'o
de [If you listen to my advice] 'et le ndai la noh la be nohni ch 'oh noh la be 'ulh 'en-i
[what you make with your hands] 7 beh botihnalh, ne 'ulhni da' 'utsiyan [you will live by
that, Grandfather told us] (Pierre John: 18 September 2008). The Elders believe their
survival is linked to their knowledge and way of life handed down from their ancestors.
Pierre explains:
Ya', that's what I mean. Like you're telling me what you know but I live the way I
believe, you know. That's every person in the world, the whole world, you know,
they don't live like one another—all different. Like this nedo [white person referring
to Chris Gall] here he live way different from me. In certain ways, maybe some ways
we live the same way but in other way he don't live my way. Every person, HI bit
wrong—never be the same. That's why, you know, when we're telling story—
sometimes what I know I tell story but I... just tell what I see and what I hear, maybe
I lie by whoever is telling me, I don't know. But what I hear and what I see is what I
talk about and I believe it. See, like my grandpa, he talk to me when I was nine year
old, I say I remember it, just like he talk to me this morning. You see because what he
told me, I believe in it and today I realize it, that's why I live. You see I believe him,
what he tell me and I take his word and I live this long. If I didn't believe him and I
didn't take his word, I'll be down (Pierre John: 18 September 2008).
Alfred Joseph adds, "All that knowledge, we tell you this, 'cause we're getting old we
don't want to carry it to the grave with us. Even the things we don't need, we feel we
have to tell you we still tell it to the young kids that listen. Me, I speak mostly in English
for the benefit of these lil ones" (Alfred Joseph: 18 September 2008). It important to
preserve this knowledge so that it gets passed on but also continually retold. All we have
to guide us in this present is the accumulated thought and experience of those who have
lived before us. History is a living breathing narrative. This work is both history and
story. As Thomas King wrote, "the truth about stories is that's all we are" (King 2004:2).
This is in part my story of the past as told to me by the Elders. I have wrestled
with this, as it is their story; however I am the one picking and choosing what to include.

33

Space does not permit the transcription of the vast amount of knowledge that was shared,
but as Alfred Joseph advised me, "so what we tell you, you can decide what you could
use and what not to use. This is what us, we live by, we listen to somebody else's advice
and [choose] how we live" (Alfred Joseph: 18 September 2008). At a later date he added,
"put it in a more intelligent manner like university, you have to put it in more detail, more
light" (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008). I have tried to do just that.
The Community-Based Nature Of This Research
Native studies is ".. .the righting of names as much as the writing of names" as
well as a dialogue where people can find a middle ground (Kulchyski 2000:13-15). In
this research this applies both to the names of Elders who were interviewed as well as
place names as much as possible. I want to give voice to the names of Tl'azt'en Elders
and to the Tl'azt'en territory as well as recognize the contributions and knowledge of
individuals that have been ignored in other places. Additionally, I am hoping to find a
middle ground between the oral tradition and the tendency of the historical documents to
be racially motivated and denigrating, while still offering value to the community.
This is community-based research in that I was approached by the community
themselves to carry out this project and they have been involved throughout. As Graham
Hingangoroa Smith suggests, "Indigenous peoples must set the agenda for change
themselves" (Smith 2000:210). I am very honoured to have been given this privilege and
opportunity, and I come to it with a deep sense of responsibility. Shiu-Thorton (2003)
describes community-based, participatory research as:
A research approach that involves community members/partners in all phases
of research. It seeks a collaborative approach that is equitable for all
participants engaged in the research process, from the inception of the

34

proposed research to the dissemination and publication of research findings.
It is grounded in the conscious recognition that historically, and particularly
within ethnic minority communities, research has been done on (in contrast to
with) communities of color by predominantly white researchers (quoted in
Fondahl et al. 2009:2-3).
The community requested an oral history project that is backed up by archival
research, and eventually they hope to conduct an archaeological study of the area. The
inspiration for this project came from several Elders in the community who spoke
extensively with Simon John, the former Language and Culture Coordinator. They
wanted to locate and record their early dwelling sites, and the oral stories associated with
those places, before the knowledge was completely lost. The main area of interest they
wanted to focus on is the place known as Yeko. The problem that the community faces is
that there are only a handful of people left who remember these places and the stories,
and they are aging. This project was directed by the Elders themselves who wanted their
knowledge recorded before it is lost. This is important because I know from visits in the
community that the Elders were feeling stretched by the CURA project and on the one
hand, were reluctant to have more research and interviews conducted. However, they
were very excited by this project and were the ones pushing for it to take place. It was
hoped this project would lead to an archaeological dig. Although a dig took place, as
mentioned earlier the location was changed at the last minute.
Our plan for research with the Elders initially involved a trip out onto the land
with them for about a week to record the places and the knowledge surrounding them.
The community was pushing for this to take place very quickly, and wanted the trip onto
the land scheduled for mid June 2008. The reasoning behind it was to visit the sites
before all the leaves came out, and made things less visible. The week-long camp did not

35

take place due to several deaths in the community, as well as the political situation with
Yekooche, which will be discussed later.
As was discussed earlier, context is very important. Harold Adams Innis,
considered Canada's pre-eminent fur trade historian, believed that the context needed to
be experienced as much as possible. Robin W. Winks in the forward for a 1962 reprint of
The Fur Trade in Canada wrote that, "Nor did Innis make the mistake, common in 1930
and increasingly common since, of thinking that history could be written exclusively
from archives and libraries, from one's study, comfortable and essentially untravelled.
Like Parkman and Trevelyan before him, he realized that he must see the country of
which he wrote" (Innis 2001:xxix). Innis famously travelled in an eighteen-foot canvascovered Hudson Bay canoe to the Mackenzie River basin (Innis xxix) in order to
experience a part of the fur trade. During my research I made three trips to Yeko. The first
trip was to assess the condition of roads and to discuss where to hold our camp. Our
second trip on 19 June 2008 consisted of preliminary reconnaissance during which we
were able to find plenty of physical evidence of past settlement, including cache pits,
house pits, and even grave markers. The third trip onto the territory consisted of a day
camp with several Elders and community members. There is something very deep and
powerful about hearing the Elders' stories out on the territory. I spent the day listening
closely while sitting around a roaring fire enjoying moose meat stew and bannock. This
was an incredible experience.
The research project included four main phases: the initiation phase, the data
collection phase, the data analysis phase, and the presentation or knowledge translation
phase. The initiation phase occurred in the summer of 2008. During this phase, as much

36

time as possible was spent in the study community in order to learn about their culture
and to build relationships. This included some background research in the Tl'azt'en
Nation archives, as well as attendance at Language and Culture meetings, Elders
Meetings, and assisting another CURA researcher (Deanna Yim) at two community
events. Initially, this time was not structured, in order to allow myself to become more
aware of the surroundings and—more importantly—allow the community to become
comfortable with me. On 26 June 2008 a community meeting took place. All interested
community members were invited and encouraged to attend. The objectives, methods,
relevance, and outcomes of the study, as well as benefits to the community, were
discussed. There was time for the community members to give feedback and ask
questions. This meeting was also used to determine if there were any other issues related
to the study that the community felt needed to be addressed. One of the concerns that
came up was a discussion of the political issue that had developed with Yekooche relative
to the treaty process that was ongoing.20 As a result of these discussions it was decided
not to hold a week-long camp with Elders or conduct formal interviews on the territory
(the information that was gathered on the territory was collected informally).
During the initial phase, a support group consisting of knowledgeable and
respected community members was established to guide the research. These members
aided in the identification of important stories and pieces of history to the community.
The specific information sought, determined the timing of the rest of the project. Initially,
several knowledgeable Elders were not well, and had to be interviewed at a later date.
During this phase, community members were selected to act as experts and guides in the

See pages 5 and 42.

37

field phase of the project. Methods of compensation for their time and expertise were
determined before the fieldwork began.21
Working With The Research Participants
Participants include Elders of Yekooche and Tl'azt'en Nation. The participants
were selected through a process involving peer nomination. Beverly John and Simon
John aided in this process, through discussions with their Elders. The research
participants were selected according to the following criteria:
a) They must be a member of Yekooche or Tl'azt'en Nation;
b) They must be knowledgeable: identified by peers as an 'expert' by having a
deep knowledge of the research site; and
c) They must have recognized authority: identified as an 'expert' by a minimum
of two Tl'azt'en community members.
Each of the participants that were approached by Bev and Simon agreed to participate.
The data collection phase began during the summer of 2008. During the course of
this work eight Elders were formally interviewed one-on-one. These interviews ranged
from roughly one to two hours in length, and semi-structured interviewing techniques
were used. Additionally, the Elder's Camp was a group setting that included the
participation of other knowledge holders from both communities. Simon John and
Beverly John (Tl'azt'en Nation CURA Research Coordinator) helped develop the
interview questions with the community (I created an initial question set that was
modified by the community).23 Simon was also present during interviews to aid in the
translation process. During the interview with William Joseph, Pierre John (another Elder
21

This followed the guidelines already established by the CURA Project.
For a complete list of participants see Appendix 1.
23
See Appendix 2.

38

and research participant) stepped in for Simon as translator and research assistant. The
research participants were free to choose an interview location they were comfortable
with. Interviews took place in the Education Center, the Elders Center, the John Prince
Research Forest office, or in the participants home. One interview was conducted in a
hotel room in Prince George. The information gathered in the field was documented
using written, audio, and video techniques, according to the wishes of the Elders/experts.
This material is stored in the Tl'azt'en Nation Treaty Office Archives. Interviews were
transcribed/translated by Theresa Austin, a language expert in the community. Upon the
completion of the transcription/translation process, all interviews were verified by the
research participants.
One of the small ways I tried to say thank-you to the Elders was by bringing
Timbits (doughnut holes) each time I came to the community. The Elders seemed to
enjoy and get a good laugh from my Nedo Bannock.
All participants involved in the project received an honorarium, as recommended
by the community researcher or community research coordinator. It is practice to give
honorariums and a small gift for participating in CURA research.
Throughout the research process transcripts were provided to participants for
verification and feedback. One way of achieving community validation was having
community member Simon John on my thesis committee. At the end of the project,
participants verified the research and a community presentation for any interested
community members was planned. The community members were invited to the thesis
defense. Materials such as project updates, photographs, and presentations were made
available on the CURA website, http://cura.unbc.ca as per the individual consent forms.
24

Simon had another meeting to attend.

39

Archival research of written sources has also been used alongside the oral history.
This involves Department of Indian Affairs documents, Hudson's Bay Company archival
material, and the journals of early visitors to the region. My methodology for reviewing
the archival material was exhaustive; I started at the beginning and read thousands of
pages of material, looking for any mention of Yeko. During the data analysis phase, the
information collected from the Elders and from the written record was analyzed in order
to develop a rich historical narrative of the area around Yeko.
Besides the CURA protocols I did my best to incorporate the following of
Atkinson's twelve principles into all aspects of my work:
Table 1
Principles guiding Indigenous research
• Aboriginal people themselves approve the research and the research methods;
• A knowledge and consideration of community and the diversity and unique nature that
each individual brings to community;
• Ways of relating and acting within community with an understanding of the principles
of reciprocity and responsibility;
• Research participants must feel safe and be safe, including respecting issues of
confidentiality;
• A non-intrusive observation, or quietly aware watching;
• A deep listening and hearing with more than the ears;
• A reflective non-judgmental consideration of what is being seen and heard;
• Having learnt from the listening a purposeful plan to act with actions informed by
learning, wisdom, and acquired knowledge;
• Responsibility to act with fidelity in relationship to what has been heard, observed and
learnt;
• Listening and observing the self as well as in relationship to others;
• Acknowledgement that the researcher brings to the research his or her subjective self.
(Atkinson 2001:10)

Respect is hopefully evident in all facets of my work, and my thesis. Incorporating most
of Atkinson's Principles guiding Indigenous research furthered to deepen reciprocity in
my work.

40

The nature of this research meant it involved a community and Elders who needed
to be shown the utmost regard for their ways of knowing, and the stories they shared with
me as an outsider. I began studying the Carrier language in order to show some respect,
and deepen my own understanding. In addition to this respect, I will provide the
community with a community booklet of the research results, to make results easily
accessible to a large cross-section of the population.
It was very exciting to see how this project developed and unfolded. Looking
back I feel as though I have been able to integrate both academic research and Indigenous
knowledge, and develop a document that is useful to the community. As someone who
wants to go on further to study Law and to work with land claims, perhaps this
documentation can provide proof needed for the Tl'azt'tenne and Yekoochet'enne to
protect more of their territory. I see the benefit of Indigenous research for the specific
communities, as well as academia as a whole, when it is done correctly with one's heart
in the right place. Paul Thompson describes the essential qualities an interviewer must
possess: "an interest and respect for people as individuals, and flexibility in response to
them; an ability to show understanding and sympathy for their point of view; and, above
all, a willingness to sit quietly and listen" (Thompson 1978:165).

Research Challenges
Historical
Overall this was a very positive experience. However, there were instances at the
beginning when conducting my research where I experienced first hand the lack of trust
and cynicism that can greet an outsider when coming into the community. This is due to a

41

long history fraught with exploitive research (Smith 1999). My presence was met with
anger on more than one occasion. Harsh tones, angry stares, and the word nedo were
clearly indicative of the fact that I was the topic being discussed in Dakelh. While I'm
glad members were fervent in their desire to protect both their knowledge and
community, what impressed me most is the speed in which attitudes changed. After
speaking from the heart about this research and my place as a non-Aboriginal student in
First Nations Studies, people were much more friendly and welcoming. The positive
reception increased as I got to know community members and spent time with them.

Political
It is important to recognize the political context in which this research is taking
place. As is common in British Columbia, Tl'azt'en Nation as well as Yekooche are
involved in the B.C. Treaty Process. In 1994 Yekooche broke away from Tl'azt'en
Nation in order to enter into their own separate treaty negotiations. Yekooche is currently
in stage five of British Columbia's six stage treaty process. Tl'azt'en Nation is in stage
four. My research project originally proposed including Yekooche and Tl'azt'en Nations,
the goal being to foster understanding and have the two Nations work together. We held
an information session in Yekooche on 5 June 2008. After some initial concerns our
meeting seemed to end well. However, an email was soon sent out from the Yekooche
Treaty Team requiring my research to cease. Later, Yekooche Nation chose not to
officially participate in this research project. However, they granted members permission
to participate on an individual level if they chose. While this project is not about land

42

claims, it is about a traditional site, and therefore was initially perceived as potentially
being a contentious issue within the treaty process.
This issue surrounding land came up with each Elder I interviewed. The Elders
speak of how Yekooche and Tl'azt'en are related. People from the village of Yekooche
have lived in the Tl'azt'en village of Tache and vice versa. My preliminary genealogical
research supports this. The issue according to the Elders is the European names given to
people at baptism. Some had their first and last names reversed or were given new names.
The result is that many people in both Nations are unaware of who they are related to and
where they come from. The people of Yekooche and Tl'azt'en are deeply related. Yet
today many members of each Nation see themselves as separate because they do not
understand the historical relationships as broadly as the Elders. Two of the Elders who
supported this project, William Joseph and Alfred Joseph, live in the Village of
Yekooche. This is important, because as an Elder stated during a meeting I attended
(quoting Sarris), "one party's story is no more the whole story than a cup of water is the
river" (Sarris 1993:40).

Institutional
The largest institutional challenge thus far has been around the academic timeline.
My research project has not progressed in a typical linear fashion. I was already engaged
and doing it before having completed my proposal. The community was pushing for me
to begin my work right away, and my thesis committee agreed with the timeline. I
completed my Research Ethics Board application in a matter of days in order to begin
this work right away. I then had to go back and fill in some of the pieces, an example

43

being my proposal defense in November 2008, as opposed to being prior to the start of
my research. Temporally, conducting research in an Indigenous community can take
longer as it has in this case. While the proposed time for a Master's degree is usually two
to three years, community research requires building relationships and trust. As Willie
Mattess frankly put it, "No, I don't think you want to know everything just right now, just
because you're here" (Willie Mattess:26 January 2009). Likewise, Alfred Joseph
questioned me at the beginning, "Why should I tell you something that is part of me if
you do not believe what I am or who I am?" (Alfred Joseph:5 June 2008).25 This supports
Burgess' findings that access is "negotiated and renegotiated throughout the research
process" it is "based on sets of relationships between the researcher and the researched,
established throughout a project" (Burgess 1991:43). It is also necessary to conduct a
community verification of results. I have taken the long way around in completing this
thesis because it is important to do things well. Many of the Elders cautioned me on
taking shortcuts and while they were talking literally about my life, I think it applies to
this research as well: "Don't try to go shortcut, walk around, right around, it don't matter
if you think you got chance... if you go shortcut, that's your life it's gonna be that short"
(Willie Mattess:26 January 2009). Thankfully I have come to this community at the tail
end of the UNBC CURA project (2004-2009). This gave me the benefit of established
protocols, familiarity with the research process, as well as developed relationships with
Elders and community members.

After I established a relationship with Alfred he became a strong supporter of this project.

44

Geographical
Distance posed another challenge to research. Driving from Prince George to
Tache can take anywhere from three to four hours depending on road conditions. On
going communication is hindered, and travel can be time consuming and tedious. Email,
telephone, and post were incredibly helpful at bridging that gap and staying as in touch as
much possible. Having a research assistant working in Fort St. James doing translation
required the mailing of interview recordings and transcripts back and forth, which added
a delay to the process. Additionally, upon the conclusion of the field research I relocated to
Vancouver, which further increased both the distance and disconnect.

Cultural
Cultural understanding and learning has been an important part of this project.
One asks a lot of the community in collaborative work. There are labour, social and
cultural factors involved. I have come to appreciate while conducting this research that
the needs of the community come before any schedule with the researcher. Once I had
passed the ethics review, my research was delayed due to the ice breaking late. Because
of the late spring, berry season was late the first year, which also delayed the start of my
interviews. There were then several deaths in the community during which all work shut
down and the people came together in support of each other during these very difficult
times. Interviews were cancelled several times due to personal and community events.
Elders also had the opportunity to respond to my interview in Dakelh which
meant extra time was required for the transcription and translation to English. Research

45

needs to be not only culturally relevant, it needs to support and enrich the Nation as well.
As one Native American leader and academic articulates:
We, as tribal people, want research and scholarship that preserves, maintains,
and restores our traditions and cultural practices. We want to restore our
homelands; revitalize our traditional religious practices; regain our health; and
cultivate our economic, social and governing systems. Our research can help us
maintain our sovereignty and preserve our nationhood (Crazy Bull quoted in
Fondahl et al. 2009:3).
Being part of the CURA project has enabled my research to be more culturally
appropriate and beneficial than I ever expected. At the same time I have worked hard to
do what I was asked when the moment arose, whether it was giving a community
member or Elder a ride to or from a meeting or town, attending a last minute meeting, or
delivering items between organizations and communities. It has been a privilege to work
along side a group of patient and helpful Elders and community members.

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3.0 History As A Living Narrative:
In History of the Northern Interior of British Columbia, Father A.G. Morice wrote
of the period between 1856-62, when the wave of settlement to the region began to affect
the Indigenous population. He described it as "the approach of a new era, when a contest
would be established between their own forces and those of the incoming civilization
which would leave them vanquished, demoralized, and verging on their ruin, both moral
and material" (Morice 1971:291). Colonization is a contentious issue: a mistake to some,
a triumph to others, wilfully ignored by many. This is not that story, but quite the
opposite. This story is about survival—both of a language and a culture, and more
specifically, real people. It is the story of community and cooperation, and finally of
adaptation to changing circumstance. While this is in part a story of the Dakelhne, it is
also about the outside forces acting upon them. I utilize the words of the Elders as much
as possible that they may tell their own story.
Canada's role as a supplier of resources has shaped the way we think of Canadian
history and identity. This is explained in the Staples Thesis presented by Harold A. Innis
in 1930:
The most promising source of early trade was found in the abundance of fish,
especially cod... In the interior, trade with the Indians offered the largest returns in...
furs and especially beaver... With the disappearance of beaver... lumber became the
product which brought the largest returns... The lumber industry has been
supplemented by the ... pulp and paper industry... and later minerals—gold, nickel,
and other metals—have followed the inroads of machine industry (Innis 2001:384385).
This concept recapitulates much of Tl'azt'en Nations history with the fur trade, followed
by a shift to lumber and mineral exploration.

47

Rachel Carson wrote in Silent Spring, "The history of life on earth has been a
history of interaction between living things and their surroundings" (Carson 2002:5). In
this sense, this thesis is the study of the changing relationships between humans and the
environment, often labelled environmental history, which seeks to explain why the past
unfolded as it did, and why present society has developed as it has. This view of the past
provides guidance and insight for dealing with the environments in which we find
ourselves today. The Dakelh people (until very recently) maintained a subsistence
lifestyle, similar in many ways to their hunter-gatherer ancestors. They were nomadic.
As Alfred Joseph recalled,
Mostly I grew up all over the place anyway, I move around. In them days, in my time
a lot of people moved, they used to have campsites there, on-reserve camps, house,
log house. That's where we used to stay in the winter but in the summer we all went
out making fish, dry meat and stuff like that, that's the way we use to live. That's
where all these traditional stuff told by the old people [came from]" (Alfred Joseph:3
October 2008).
Toponomy
Yeko [Cunningham Lake] is located between the east end of Nado Bun [Babine
Lake] and the west end of Nak'al Bun [Stuart Lake] outside of Fort St. James in British
Columbia. According to the British Columbia Geographical Names Office, the name
Cunningham was adopted on 15 July 1936, having previously appeared on maps created
in 1912, 1913, and 1916. The lake is identified as "Little Lake" on A.G. Morice's 1907
map Northern Interior of British Columbia (BCGNIS and Morice 1971). The Hudson
Bay Journal records the name as Yokogh, Jokoh, Petit Lac or Little Lake. Hudson (206)
notes the following examples from the HBC Journals:

48

1825: "Two of the Yokogh Indians came in with 990 salmon"
1825: "Pinchi and Yokogh Indians traded 2620 salmon."
1831: "Most of the Yokogh and Pinchee Indians returned to their camps."
(HBCAB.188/a/17, fo. 34)
1834: "Indians at Little Lake of Babine Portage." (HBCA D.4/126, fo. 37d)
1840: "From the Portage Indians we learn they have a good stock of White Fish."
(HBCAB.188/a/19,fo. 13d)
More recently the lake is referred to as Yeko by the Tl'azt'enne. It was suggested that this
name could be a bastardization by the early fur traders of the Dakelh word 'ukoh meaning
creek, due to the old village site[ Yekoozdli] next to the creek. According to two of the
Elders, the oldest known name for Cunningham is Tadulh, but it is no longer known what
this means (Willie Mattess:26 January 2009, and Catherine Morris:26 January 2009).
According to Justa Monk Yeko refers to the western portion of Cunningham Lake
and Yekoozdli the eastern half (Justa Monk:24 October 2008). Pierre John explains:
My grandparents must know what Yeko means, it's name after something but we
don't know—we don't know what is Yeko. Our grandparents or their grandparents,
maybe they know what's name after—it's name after something but us, we don't
know. But Yekoozdli is name after Yeko, I know that. Yeko Lake it goes out of the
lake that's why they call it Yekoozdli, 'ukoh hahon 'a, [river outlet]. Yeko water, you
see, runs out and then Portage is name after Yeko. Yeko Lake's creek go down and it
come out in Portage that's why they call it Yekooche. Yekooche too k'oot che, Yeko
took'eche whe hutni. [Yeko is the outlet of the lake is what they are saying] 'et
Yekoozdli ndi Yeko tizdli 'i be huhoozi [then Yekoozdli is the outlet of Yeko, this
outlet of Yeko is what they named it after] (Pierre John: 18 September 2008).
Dli is a suffix meaning outlet of lake. William Joseph adds:
Yeko what you're speaking about Yeko and Yekoozdli and that's just the first end of
Yekoozdli, Yekoozdli and Yeko is just part of it and they call the rest Tat TVoh [Three
Bays]. Tatl'oh [Three Bays] is way at the end. They call that Tatl'oh [Three Bays]
because there's three bays in it. Ta means three, there's three bays in there and they
call it Tatl'oh [Three Bays] so that's the way it is (William Joseph:2 October 2008).
Besides Yekoozdli there are three other important locations at Yeko: Tadulh [also given as
a name for the whole lake] located at the narrows, which contains lots of cache pits and a
few suspected pit houses, as well as two islands Noo Tsui (smaller of the two) and Noo

49

Tsula (between the narrows). Lastly, there is Scooby Island called Ts 'oo Noo [spruce
island] in Dakelh (26 June 2008).26
Pre Contact
Human inhabitation in this region is ancient. Simon John tells me there are more
Culturally Modified Trees (CMT's) in central BC than anywhere else, which he suggests
points to some of the highest levels of human population. The high concentration of
CMT's is consistent with Norcan's archeological survey that found hundreds of cambium
stripped CMTs around Cunningham Lake (Norcan 2000:13). Many Elders shared the
story Nilhts'ik'ani [The Power of the Wind] (below). It is what I believe to be the oldest
story I was told of Yeko. It links occupation in the area to time immemorial and was told
to me by Elders who wanted to tell the whole story. The Elders' experience with this
place goes far beyond their lifetime. The oral history ties them anciently to this place.
Pierre John explained:
Why I'm telling this story, it's not only our nation generation's been living there.
There were people there, way, way before our time, maybe thousand, two thousand
years. This is fairytale story but it's true story, that's why I just want to tell this part
of the story... I know you're thinking just our nation, our generation been living there
but not so. There been people there many years—many thousand years—and this is
true story too (Pierre John:26 June 2008).
I was told this particular event ushered in the advent of the Potlatch. Justa Monk
explained, "how potlatch started long ago is because there was war about land—our
land—people were warring about it and there was too much bloodshed and that's when
potlatch started. They start putting peace amongst themselves" (Justa Monk:24 October
2008). The potlatch was a means to settle disputes publicly.

A map is not included in order to help preserve these cultural sites.

50

The Story of Nilhts'ik'ani [The Power of the Wind]
Told by Michel Morris and transcribed by his son George Morris
Once the people of K'uzche which is now called Grand Rapids came in force to
annihilate the people of Yekoozdli this end of Cunningham Lake which was called Yeko.
They killed all but two infant boys and one old lady that was away, she returned
to find everyone dead except for the two babies. She made up her mind to raise these two
baby boys to be great medicine men and have them avenge the massacre.
The babies were in cradles; she put an eagle feather in one cradle and a plant
called wind arrow in the other cradle. She put one on a hill behind her camp, the hill was
called Jumping Owl Hill and the other cradle on Swan Shout Hill, which was a half a
mile away. Each night the Old Lady would change them one to the other, when the boys
grew older they changed places by themselves, that way they grew to manhood. In the
olden days that was the procedure to becoming a Medicine Man.
So one day they said, "Let's try our strengths and make granny younger, She will
tell us how our people were killed, then we can avenge them." They took the Old Lady
and pulled her under an old stump which was standing by the road side, the roots made it
stick up, making a hollow where they pushed her through. When she came out on the
other side she was given strength again.27
She told them about the massacre and how she found all their people dead, except
for them. She told them to go down to Stuart Lake and cross it and showed them where
the people that had killed their parents lived.
So they started on their journey, when they got to the lake, the one who had the
eagle feathers threw one into the lake, instantly it turned into a canoe. With this canoe
they crossed the lake and then went over the mountains to K'uzche.
The eagle man made himself into a large eagle and he started to fly back and forth
in front of the village. Everyone in the village came outside to watch, including the Head
man.28 All of a sudden Eagle man swooped down and grabbed Head man and started to
fly away with him, someone caught his legs and someone else caught his legs until the
whole village were hanging on to each other. While that was happening a man called
Small Spruce was running around everywhere like he was crazy, in the end he too caught
the last man's legs and hung on to the ground. Eagle man flew round and round and
heaved up, but Small Spruce hung on and broke all the people free and saved them from
being taken away. Eagle man only had Head Man whom he started to pound on the water
in front of the village. When he had smashed him up Eagle Man threw Head Man into the
river to become a rock which people floating down the river would drift onto. "K'e
ts 'eluk 'onle'" he said. "You will be a rock people will land on."
Now, everybody assembled at the village, one old lady said "Could Wind man
sing for us?" She had a log raft tied to her back. She did this because she knew the man's
power and thought the weight would save her. The Wind arrow man just moved his head
a little and a gust of wind started to sing and dance, a great wind came and blew the
whole Village up in the air and away, including the old lady with the logs on her back.
This is how the brothers avenged their people of Yekoozdli...
According to some of the Elders it was a spruce tree.
Also called Duneza' or Nobleman (Willie Mattess 26 January 2009).

51

Now these two men who had caused such a great havoc said, "Now our work is
done, let's go back to granny." They found her beside the road near Yekoozdli with blood
foaming out of her mouth, she was pulling so hard for them as they did their work. Eagle
man and Wind Arrow man took the old lady and pushed her through the magic stump and
she became alive and strong again.
(Unpublished Morris Family Document n.d.)
Legends such as this one were often very long, and the telling would span three or
four evenings (Willie Mattess:26 January 2009). Some of the Elders told Nilhts'ik'ani
about Bisk'i (Seagull) not Tsibalyan (Bald Eagle). When Alfred Joseph told the story to
me, the ending was a foretelling of things to come:
They went back and they form the hatchery, they put that old lady back to life and
then they went over, she told them at Yekoozdli said 'My time is almost over anyway,
now I know you use your power right but' [s]he29 said, 'this is the only, the one and
only revenge you'll ever have'. Said 'from this day on, there'll be no more warfare,
don't kill nobody. Hunt, and become traders, there's going to be people coming in,
it's going to be thoroughfare—road through here. You become traders from here on,
from this day on. From that point on, they, that old lady died and they become traders.
That's how Yekooche first came into being, at that time, stayed into being. That's the
way I know it, it's a legend (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008).
According to Pierre John the boys killed the old woman, and the blood coming out of her
mouth created the creek at Yekoozdli. I am told this water still has a reddish colour in the
spring (Pierre John:2 October 2008). William Joseph stated the same, but said the old
woman died of exhaustion (William Joseph: unpublished family document n.d.). The
Yekoochet'en have adopted the phrase Nilhts'ik'ani [The Power of the Wind] as their
motto based on this legend. The community remains today because of the Power of the
Wind, drawing strength from their past.

There are numerous places throughout this thesis where the Elder's switch back and forth between he and
she while telling a story. I am told that this is due to the fact that long ago there was not a distinction
between male and female in Dakelh.

52

There is a large burial ground at Yekoozdli but it is no longer known how old it is
or why it is there. Pierre remembers his father, Michel Jan, talking about it being older
than him (Jan was born in 1901).

Traditional Life of the People (1800s)
The Tl'azt'enne utilized the resources of several watersheds: the head of Nak'al Bun
[Stuart Lake], the head of Nado Bun [Babine Lake] and adjacent river valley, and the
Yeko [Cunningham Lake] basin, which drains into Nak'al Bun [Stuart Lake].The people
at Yeko also shared the resources of Nado Bun [Babine Lake]. The Babine name was
derived from a practice of "letting their women wear, from the time of their puberty, a
labret or plug of bone or hardwood, perhaps half an inch and more in diameter, between
the teeth and the lower lip;" thus the early French fur traders called them Babines, which
can be translated as 'Lippy People' (Morice 1971:6-7). Father Morice described the
population living near Yeko around 1800 to consist of a few small bands of fisherman
subsisting mostly on white fish (Morice 1971:66). Each band was essentially a family
unit. Morice's account of small bands of hunter gatherers is consistent with Daniel
Williams Harmon's Journal,30 in which he records traveling through the region and
finding one or two small camps of people every day (Harmon 2006:156). As well, an
Elder during Hudson's research recalled:
In most of the villages, everyone comes from one family. For example, in Grand
Rapids it used to be the Austin family, Trembleur Lake used to be the Anatole family,
and Portage used to [be] Pius and Johnco [Jan Cho now known as John] family
(Hudson 183).

Harmon was a fur trader stationed in New Caledonia from 1810 to 1819 serving mostly at Fort St. James.
He pioneered agriculture in the region (Dictionary Canadian Biography Online).

53

Several of the modern day villages are settlements at the fishing grounds of a particular
family's territory. Evidently, settlement occurred most often at fish camps due to the fact
that resources ranked in importance were fish, game, and berries.
Dakelh subsistence in the summer and fall involved fishing camps to catch
salmon. Camps consisted of several families who shared the same fishing location. Berry
gathering was also carried out at this time of year. Although the Dakelh people were
mostly dependant on fishing for their sustenance, hunting played a very important
supplemental dietary role. Game was hunted in the winter and spring: caribou, elk, deer,
and bear. Ground hog (marmot), beaver, muskrat, lynx, and rabbit were used for furs and
food. Cambium from pine trees was also collected as food, especially in the Spring and
when food was scarce. Hudson notes that caribou were hunted in small numbers until
1851 when references no longer appear in the journals (Hudson 1983:65).

Fish
As is still the case today, salmon were very important to the people. The
importance of fish and its high regard is illustrated in the following cautionary tale told
by Pierre John:
Ya', that's why they say salmon is the worst thing to fool around with or play around
with it, never throw it even a lil ways, salmon, meat or anything, bones. Say long time
ago, long time ago, this is a fairytale story, they say one orphan girl... [s]he dance
around in the smokehouse and [s]he see them salmon backbone... hanging around.
That backbone it stuck to her hair... so [s]he take that thing and then [s]he throw that
salmon bone out. They say all that salmon what they got hanging up some dry and
some, you know, fresh, they got it hang up in the smokehouse. [S]he said they all...
come back alive and they went back to the river just because [s]he throw that salmon
backbone out. [S]he say why it stuck to her hair while [s]he was dancing, that's why
[s]he throw it out, that's what happen and that's a true story too, that one. All that
salmon come back alive and went back in the river and then, they say, after it happen
that they say they had starvation too. Just because of that. That's what they say; they

54

said don't fool around with any kind of Indian food no matter what, don't fool around
with it. Always have respect for native food, like Indian food like meat, fish and any
kind, all kinds offish—don't fool around with it—they used to tell us. They tell us
this story and why it's danger to fool around with food; they tell us this story and they
tell us that's why they don't have to fool around with anything like that (Pierre
John: 18 September 2008).
When salmon first came up the river their arrival was celebrated: "[a]s soon as
one is caught, the Natives always make a feast, to express their joy at the arrival of these
fish. The person, who first sees a salmon in the river exclaims, Ta-loe nas-lay!... (salmon
has arrived)... and is uttered with animation, by every person in the village" (Harmon
1957:137). The first salmon ceremony celebrated the arrival of the salmon and was a
ritual to encourage a plentiful fishing season, and more importantly, was a means to
encourage their return in subsequent years. The first fish caught was eaten by the people,
after which the carcass was returned to the water. Salmon was an important resource
shared between neighbouring groups. Hudson reasons convincingly, as is shown in the
historical documents, that while resources were controlled at the clan level, resources
were shared between groups when necessary. The most productive means of catching fish
were fish weirs; however their use was limited to only a few locations. Harmon provides
a vivid description of a fish weir in operation from his journal, dated 2 September 1811:
Monday. We now have Salmon in abundance which the Natives take in the following
manner: —They make a Dam across the River and at certain places leave spaces,
where they put a kind of long Basket Net, which generally is about fifteen feet in
circumference & fifteen or twenty in length, one end of which is made like a wire
Mouse Trap, & into that the Salmon enter, but when once in cannot go out, till the
Basket is taken ashore, when they open a Door made for that purpose & turn them
out, and in one of those Baskets they often will take four or five hundred Salmon that
will weigh from five to seven pounds each—but the Natives often Spear them as they
come up the River, however this way is attended with much more labour for a person
must be accustomed to Spear two or three hundred in a Day. Just as they are taken out
of the water they are good eating, but when cured as these Indians are wont to do by
drying them in the Sun, they are not at all palatable, but the wretched Natives when

55

they have a plenty of them appear to be contented & even happy... (Harmon
1957:126-127).
Fish were also caught with nets. Traditionally, fishnets were made one of two ways: Long
ago, rabbit guts were used as they were said to be "strong enough to hold fish in the water
and stay together" (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008). Many rabbits needed to be killed in
order to construct a net, but since they were eaten and their fur was used to make a
variety of goods this was not a problem. Nets were also constructed ofK'altai [inner bark
of willow used as cord/rope]. This was an effective net that was still used into the 1900s
after twine was available. K'altai had to be stored in water as it would fall apart if it dried
(Willie Mattess:26 January 2009; Catherine Morris:26 January 2009; William Joseph:2
October 2008).
The fish that were caught were put in the smokehouse:
[A] smokehouse was built to preserve the fish that we knew would be hauled in. The
smokehouse was made from poles set in place to support each other, and birch bark
which was twisted and used instead of nails to hold the poles together. The roof was a
piece of bark held in place over the top. The fish were cleaned and smoked right
there, ready to be brought back to Portage and give us nourishment to see us through
the long winter months. Some families lived in their smokehouses, but we never did.
Char is a fat fish and it drips a lot of grease on to the smoking logs making it hard to
stay in close quarters when it is being dried. But what fish those char were—ten,
fifteen, twenty, twenty-five pounds of firm, delicious meat (Moran 1994:33-34).
Shelter
The Dakelh lived for part of the year in pit houses called yun tl'ahyoh
[underground dwelling] (Justa Monk:24 October 2008). Several of the Elders recalled
their great grandparents speaking about them saying that the roofs were made with
branches or spruce boughs and they were dug into the ground (Catherine Morris:26

56

January 2009; Pierre John:2 October 2008). Evidence of such dwellings can still be found
around Yeko. Daniel Harmon provides a detailed description from the early 1800s:
During the winter months many of the Carriers make their dwellings in the earth, in
the following manner. They dig a hole in the ground to the depth of about two feet,
from the opposite sides of which, they erect two considerable sticks, to support a
ridge-pole. They then lay poles from the margin of the hole to the ridge-pole, until
they have completely enclosed the dwelling, excepting a hole which is left near the
top, which serves the double purpose of a door by which they enter, and leave the hut,
upon an upright post, in which, notches are cut; and an opening for the smoke to pass
off. The poles are made tight, by stopping the interstices with hay, or by covering
them with bark; and dirt is then thrown over them, to a considerable thickness
(Harmon 1911:263).
Dai Whuzdli': Starvation Time
Starvation was frequent in the 1800s and the HBC Journals of both Fort St James
and Fort Babine are full of references to lack of food. Large game were few during this
period and moose did not arrive in the territory until the 1900s (Hudson 1983:166),
although I did find one reference to a moose in the 1825 Babine Journal (most likely
referring to a moose deer or caribou).31 The people lived almost exclusively on salmon
that is said to have frequently failed (berries and game were largely supplemental). John
Stuart, in a letter dated 25 April 1815, writes of New Caledonia that "The salmon failed
with us last season. This generally occurs every second year, and completely so every
fourth year, at which period the natives starve in every direction. They are of a lazy,
indolent disposition,32 and as a livelihood is rather easily procured, seldom give
themselves much trouble in hunting the beaver or any animal of the fur kind. We have no
For a much more thorough description of the arrival of moose see Domenico Santomauro (2009). The
Distribution of Woodland Caribou (Rangifer tarandus caribou) and Moose (Alces alces) in the Fort St.
James Region of Northern British Columbia, 1800-1950. Unpublished Masters Thesis, Department of
Natural Resources and Environmental Studies, University of Northern British Columbia, Prince George.
32
This description depicts the language of the time and while useful, it reveals the judgemental and
Eurocentric attitudes of many fur traders. Comments such as this are largely contradictory with many
examples throughout the journals; the Dakelh had to work extremely hard in order to survive.

57

buffalo or deer, except the caribou (reindeer); and not many even of those; so that,
properly speaking, we may say that water alone supplies the people of New Caledonia
with food" (Morice 1971:95). Harmon made a similar observation regarding the yearly
variances of Salmon in 1811: "We have but few Salmon here this year indeed it is only
every other Season that they do come plentifully up this River, but what the cause is that
they are more plentiful one year than another I am not able to determine (Harmon
1911:151-152).
It seems the Hudson's Bay Company (HBC) men were often cynical of the
salmon runs after a few years of shortages. The following entries provide a picture of the
salmon yields and timing in 1825:
30 August 1825
I learnt also that only one band of Salmon made their appearance in Stuarts Lake—
since which time none has been seen—consequently both our people & the Indians in
that quarter are starving (HBCA Bl 1 a 3 1825).
25 September 1825
The Salmon of this year appear to be much inferior in quality to those of last
season—neither have they been so abundant. Consequently a scarcity may be
apprehended, should we be obliged to supply the other Establishments as on former
occasions (HBCA Bl 1 a 3 1825).
The fact that the Babine Fort supplied others during scarce times, demonstrates the
consistent nature of salmon in that water shed. During some years (such as 1825) late
runs provided both surprise and relief. This illustrates both the reality of food
shortages and the fickle nature of the salmon runs, especially in the Nak'al Bun
[Stuart Lake] system:
8 October 1825
There are now upwards of 20,000 Salmon in Store—and there is reason to suppose
that we may procure as many more so that our apprehensions of a scarcity were rather
33

While the Dakelh were aware of the four year cycle of the salmon, the Nak'al Bun system was still
inconsistent when compared to Nado Bun.

58

premature (HBCA Bl 1 a 3 1825).
15 October 1825
There are this day in Store 29533 Salmon (HBCA Bl 1 a 3 1825).
2 November 1825
There is every appearance of the Salmon Trade being finished—the quantity traded is
44000—which is a great deal more than was expected at the beginning of the season.
The quantity now in Store is 42000... (HBCA Bl 1 a 3 1825).
George Morris' perspective on famine was shaped by a story his father used to tell
him. It takes place long ago but was said to have been retold frequently by Elders during
the Great Depression about an earlier time when food was scarce. This story speaks to the
deep relationship and morality between the availability of food and reciprocity.
Legend About Famine from Michel Morris:
This is a story about how life was in the olden days, when men had to depend on
their hunting skills or starve.
There was this couple that left their party to try to make it on their own. As they
were wandering around, the man told his wife to make camp and he was going to hunt
and kill something to eat. As the woman was digging a place to make camp, she
discovered a bear in a den under a fallen stump. She quickly killed the bear and somehow
she dressed it and hid it under the spruce boughs she had laid for the floor of their camp.
She had put a tee pee like frame and put spruce boughs on the outside to complete the
shelter. It was like their house, only it was made out of willows, poles and boughs, with a
fireplace in the center to cook, and she prepared a place to sleep also; it was quite large.
In the evening her husband came back empty handed, he had no luck this day.
Early the next morning he went out again to hunt. While he was gone, she was feasting
on the bear that she had hidden away. This went on day after day, he would go hunting
and she would eat while he was gone. Sometimes he would kill a squirrel. This went on
all winter, but the wife did not share the bear meat with him. He was getting weaker and
still he tried, in the spring he was so weak he could not go to hunt anymore.
His brother-in-law came in the spring to see how they were doing and as he
entered their camp he said, "Already my brother-in-law has a bear head hanging, you
must have got a bear." It was a custom to cook the bear head and get all the meat off and
hang the skull some distance from the camp, the woman must have hung the skull. The
man said, "I could not possibly hang a head, I am almost starved." Then the wife said,
"There is a bit of meat left, shall I cook it for him?" The man told her, "If you have any,
do that, I do not know of any." When she put the cooked meat in front of her brother, he
just pushed it aside and took some things out of his pack and made some soup for his
brother-in-law. He stayed with them and took care of him with what he had, when his

59

brother-in-law was strong enough to hunt again, he left them.
The man never said anything to his wife, he just kept hunting, and one day he
found and killed a bear in a den. He skinned the bear and took the gall out and spread it
all over the fat on the hide. He took the meat and hide back to their camp. He built a big
fire and roasted the meat and spread the hide around the fire, holding it open with sticks,
as the fat melted it was dripping into containers he placed underneath the hide.
The woman said, "Can I lick the grease?" He said, "Go ahead, you are going to
eat it all, that is the only way I will forgive you." She just licked a little bit and told him,
"I've had enough." He told her, "I'm going to kill you with this club, if you don't lick it
all up." He showed her the big club. She kept on licking the grease until she fell into the
grease. He pushed her into the fire and threw all the fat and grease and everything from
the camp into the fire and burned her. He went back to his in laws and told them how he
had killed her, and he told them, "Do whatever you want with me, that is why I came
back to you."
"No!!" said his father-in-law, "You did well, she was no good." His three brotherin-laws said, "You are welcome to stay and hunt with us," so he stayed with them for two
winters and hunted with them. One day his brother-in-laws told him, "We know of a
good place where there are lots of beavers, come with us and we will kill some, we will
leave early in the morning." So they went to bed early and the next morning they were
ready to leave, the brothers started leaving and he was going to follow them but his
father-in-law called to him and said, "There will only be three survivors from the beaver
hunt, what do you want to go with them for?" He thought of it and said, "Then why am I
going?" He put away his pack, and his bow and arrows and stayed. The brothers left
without him and were gone for a while. They were successful and got a lot of beaver,
they put up a feast, and after they had eaten, they told their brother-in-law, "We had made
up our minds and were going to avenge our sister, but you took our father's advice and
stayed, now we are going to let you go, you will die of your own sickness." So that is
how it ended. It was a custom for the widower to stay with the in-laws for some time
after the death of the woman, it so happens that if the father-in-law has marriageable
daughters for him, he could stay and marry again. In this case, he left.
Since the threat of shortage was constant, the HBC stockpiled resources as a safeguard. In
1841 Peter S Ogden applied to Babine for thirty thousand salmon (Morice 1971:186),
which illuminates the vast stores of the HBC and again the consistent, stable nature of the
Babine Lake system.

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Spiritual Beliefs and Practices
The people of Tl'azt'ten Nation are quite spiritual, and very heavily influenced by
Christianity. This spirituality is a part of life, not a separate entity. Life involves the spirit
world. Christianity came to the area in the 19th century. Father Demers (in 1842) was the
first priest to visit Fort St James. The Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate, a
religious order of priests and brothers that originated in France, were given responsibility
for the mission of the Catholic Church on the mainland of British Columbia in 1861, and
Father Adrien-Gabriel Morice OMI was stationed at Nak'alBun [Stuart Lake] in 1885
(Prince George Diocese). Marriage values changed with the arrival of the priests, who did
not approve of the polygamous relationships they found. The following story was shared
regarding the arrival of the first priest:
When Europeans, the priest first came to Fort St James, some of those Indians had
three wives, it depends on how good hunter you were. When this priest came, he told
them you cannot have three wives, it's against the law, against God's law. This old
guy he sat there four days, he loved his wives, he loved the oldest one the most. And
ah, three or four days he thought about it, he say 'Okay, I'll be converted to catholic
ways, and you, you priest, you choose which wife I should have and we'll get married
in the church. All the rest, I'll let them go, just like you said... (Alfred Joseph:3
October 2008).
Traditional medicine was tremendously powerful. Unlike the priests, who saw it
as evil, to the Dakelh it was neutral—neither good nor evil. Traditional medicine was
most often used positively to heal an affliction. Conversely, it could be used to harm
others as is illustrated in the following story of revenge:
So on this traditional medicine, or witch crafting, like anything you... it's got to
contain your sweat, like what you wore, dirty clothes, things like that, that's what's
needed, eh, in a ceremony like that. Now they could use it for evil purposes or good
purposes... Like if you want to get even with somebody, that's why they say nanye
hudotsp junih [don't let them hear you], you know what I mean? You watch your
language. Now these two guys [brothers] were... young, they kill somebody in the
reserve, eh, Fort St James, there, that traditional trail overlap. That old guy was on the

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[pointing to the side], setting rabbit snares on the side of the road, these two young
guys were coming by, said 'oh remember a year ago we kill that young guy, sure
scream for mercy. Said 'Yah', said 'we had a lot of fun killing that guy'. They were
saying, both talking, that old guy heard them, it was there, his son that they killed, eh.
So he ran ahead of them, back to camp and he cook moose meat with Kanih, them red
berries. Those two they love to eat that stuff, he made soup, stew out of it, those two
they ate as much as they can, and halfway home they start throwing up. They throw
up that stuff and blood eh, and they died on the trail. See, he poisoned them for
revenge. This is why they say nanye 'udotsp junih [don't let them hear you], you
know what I mean? You make somebody mad enough to do you in. That's one way
to do it. Now you want to know how he killed them, how he poison them? You know
moose hair, it's hollow, you cut it up, make really tiny pieces, you cut it up and you
can't see it or taste it in the stew. When you eat that you know it screws up your
digestive system, it makes you bleed from the inside. You see, now, why would they
tell me to do those kinds of things. Why did they tell me that? You know, things like
that it makes you think, eh, like a disciplinary procedure to make you a good man.
But this is how he did it (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008).
Father Morice observed many rituals around hunting and its success including the
practice of putting the skulls of bears up in a tree, as was described in the preceding
legend. However, he was not given a reason for this custom (Morice 1893:108). Hunting
bears was entrenched in ritual. As Morice illustrated:
As soon as a Carrier had made up his mind to try his chances at bear snaring, he
separated a thoro [from bed] for a full month previous to the setting of his snares.
During all that time, he could not drink from the same vessel as his wife, but had to
use a special birch bark drinking cup. The second half of the penitential month was
employed in preparing his snares. The omission of these observances was believed to
cause the escape of the game after it had been snared. To further allure it into the
snares he was making, the hunter used to eat the root of a species of heracleum (tselep
in Carrier) of which the black bear is said to be especially fond. Sometimes he would
chew and squirt it up with water, exclaiming at the same time; Nyustluh! May I snare
you! (Morice 1893:107).
Once a hunter had snared an animal it could not "pass a night in its entirety, but must
have some limb, hind or fore paws, cut off, as a means of pacifying its fellows irritated by
its killing" (Morice 1893:107).
The Dakelh people had other formal procedures relative to their spiritual beliefs
that were deeply entrenched in hunting and trapping. The fact that survival hinged on the
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ability to obtain food necessitated the strict observance of procedures that their
experience had shown to work. It had enabled their survival thus far, and maintaining
these customs would ensure the survival of future generations. Morice explained:

Speaking of the meat of snared animals, I cannot help remarking that young women
having their menses could not eat of their head, heart or hind part without exposing
themselves to a premature death through a kind of rabies which was sure to attack
them in after years. This infirmity led them to keep tearing off the flesh of their arms
with their teeth. If perchance they were favored with a lucid moment, they improved
it by making their confession to the shaman. "When young, I ate of the head, etc., of
an animal" they would say. Thereupon the medicine man would suck from the body
of the patient what was represented as the tabooed morsel unlawfully swallowed, and
forsooth the woman was cured!
The heart even of water-fowls was forbidden to similarly circumstanced young
women, who had also to abstain from cutting up the grebes which among the Carriers,
are caught each spring in such large numbers. These fowl are full of blood, and their
being manipulated by such persons would communicate to the latter either
haemorrhage [sic] or unnaturally prolonged menses.
If in the woods with his wife, the hunter would also prefer to see her tear herself up in
the bush and thorns, to let her pass in the narrow trail wherein he may have deposited
his snares preparatory to setting them. Should she as much as step over without
touching them, her mate would certainly consider any further attempt at capturing
game as futile and useless.
If the Carrier was to use traps instead of snares, the observances preparatory to setting
them varied somewhat. When martens were the intended game, the period of
abstinence from sexual intercourse34 was shortened to ten days or thereabouts, during
which the trapper slept by the fireside pressing down a little stick over his neck. This,
of course, could not fail to cause the fall-stick of his traps to drop on the neck of the
coveted game! The chewing and squirting up the heracleum root were observed in
this as in the former case. The deprecatory formula was merely changed into
Nyuskuh! May I entrap you!
When successful, the trapper had to be very careful that no dog touches his prey,
which, to avert such a misfortune, he had to hang up a peg in the lodge as soon as this
was practicable. Contact with a dog would certainly indispose the game's fellow
martens against the traps of the hunter responsible for such a slight.
No superstitious practice appears to have been followed as a preparation to beaver
hunting, save that to ensure a larger catch, one-half of each trap was daubed with red
None of the Elder's can recall being taught to abstain as described by Morice. As such, this practice was
either not passed down to them, or was practiced by one of the Tl'azt'en neighbours.

63

ochre. But nobody who does not care to condemn himself to useless efforts at
securing any further supply of the game must be unguarded enough to swallow the
little patella bone of the beaver. In like manner, if after having captured a beaver, a
Carrier has the carelessness to let one of his dogs get at that bone, he may as well
resign himself to return home empty handed. During the whole beaver trapping
season, his first capture will infallibly be his last (Morice 1893:107-108).
Beyond these customs I was also warned: "be'duzilhghi ...junih" [don't eat what is
killed]. One is forbidden from eating a dead animal that was not killed by a human,
whether through natural causes; or by another animal, no matter how hungry you are.
You must leave it. "Now, that's unwritten law... It just comes natural to live what we
know and learn, we survive this long" (Alfred Joseph: 3 October 2008).

Fur Trade
The fur trade would prove to be a life altering force amongst the Dakelh. Not only
did it generate resource depletion, it ushered in a profound shift in the way of life of the
people. This section is comprised mostly of information gleaned from the Hudson's Bay
Company Journals. At the start of the 1800s, trading posts had not yet been established in
the Pacific coast drainage basin, although voyages to this region by Captain James Cook
showed its potential. After the HBC (then the North West Company) amalgamated with
the XY Company35 in 1804, new trade territories were required due to the large number
of partners. Additional pressure came from the Lewis and Clark expedition, which
revealed the possibility of American expansion. Trade expanded in the northwest from
the Peace River district down the Finlay River. In 1805, Simon Fraser established Fort
McLeod on McLeod Lake, and in 1806, posts were built on Nak 'al Bun [Stuart Lake]
(Fort St James) and Fraser Lake (Fort Fraser). Fort George was established in 1807 at the
35

A company formed by former employees of the North West Company known by the XY markings on
their bales of fur.

64

confluence of the Nechako and Fraser Rivers. The establishment of four forts in three
years within the same region shows just how rapidly the fur trade developed in northern
British Columbia. The HBC and North West Company merged on 26 March 1821,
continuing operations under the HBC banner. In 1822, Fort Kilmaurs was erected on the
northern bank ofNado Bun [Lake Babine] near the village now known as Old Fort
(Morice 1971:125). Fort Kilmaurs was developed in part to provide the HBC with access
to Babine salmon as the Fraser River run was almost a complete failure in 1822 (HBCA
b.l88/b/2 Letter from Stuart to Mcintosh, 5 January 1823).
In 1836, Fort Kilmaurs was moved to the northern end of Nado Bun [Babine
Lake] to attract the trade of Babine Indians who were going elsewhere (trading with the
Tsimshian from the coast or during yearly trade gatherings at Hagwilget that attracted
thousands of people from most of the northwest nations). The 1825 Journal illustrates
this:
[The Indians] are particularly troublesome—they complain bitterly of the trouble of
working the Beaver—of the distance they have to bring it—and, after all, of not being
able to procure their necessaries for it. Some say they will hunt no longer since they
are so poorly encouraged—and others—that for the future they will traffic with the
Indians of the Sea Coast who, they [maintain], have abundance of Leather + other
Goods much better and cheaper than ours (HBCA Bl l/a/3 1825).
Additionally, the move brought the fort closer to the salmon fishery. It was renamed Fort
Babine. At the time the village at Fort Kilmaurs (now known as Old Fort) contained one
hundred and fifty people (Morice 1971:209 and 195). Fort Babine was described in the
1891 Report as "[s]ituated on the eastern shore of the river immediately at the outlet of
Babine Lake, and adjoining the Indian Village of Babineville.36 The position is central for

Known as Wit 'at to the Babine.

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the trade of the surrounding country and beside one of the best Salmon fisheries in the
country" (HBCA Bll/e/4 1891).
Importance of Yeko during the Fur Trade
William Brown wrote in his District Report (from 1822-1823) how trade occurred
prior to the establishment of a fort on Nado Bun [Lake Babine]: "[T]he greatest part of
the Babines of the Lake traded their Furs with the Indians of the Portage [Yeko], and
Fond [d]u Lac of Nakaselay[sic] unless when people came from St James in the winter to
trade with them" (HBCA Bl 1/e/l fo 1). The North West Company had only extended its
reach as far as Fort St. James. As Arthur Ray argued:
This gave the Stuart Lake Carrier a chance to establish their own trading networks in
that quarter. They seized the opportunity and by 1820 the Stuart Lake Carrier were
preventing the Babine and Wet'suwet'en from crossing the portage between Stuart
and Babine Lakes for the purpose of trading at Fort St. James, rather the Stuart Lake
Carrier made trading trips to the Babine. Besides carrying the Hudson's Bay
Company goes [sic goods] to them, the Stuart Lake Carrier took deer and moose
hides, venison and furs for the purpose of trading and gambling (No. 0843 Smithers
Registry March 23 1989 Vol 205:13602).
The development of a fort on Babine profoundly impacted Yeko, as its inhabitants were
no longer trading middlemen. The Babines could now trade directly with the Company.
Trading expeditions over the Portage were a normal occurrence showing ties between the
communities. As illustrated by Ray's testimony as well as numerous cases within the
HBC Journals, a common social activity when these groups got together was gambling.
The following example illustrates this:
6 June 1825
At an early hour Mr. Ross, Vandal, and Fanny/the latter to act as Interpreter/started to
visit the Indians along the North side of the Lake towards the Portage—and see that
none of the St. James are there to engage them at play so as to prevent them from
hunting and at the same time most probably to strip them of the few furs they may
have as they did last fall (HBCA Bl l/a/3 1825).

66

The negative reaction (of Brown) towards gambling from Fort Kilmaurs was due to the
fact that gambling provided distraction from hunting; primarily, Brown did not want the
furs to go with the Fort St. James Indians37 back to that Fort for trade.
Hudson noted the earliest detailed report on the village at Yeko appeared in 1824:
"The fifth and last village of residence is Lqoqoh, situated nigh the Babine lake about 70
miles from this place (Fort St. James) and contains 6 married men, 6 married women, 2
widows, 3 young or marriageable men and 8 infants" (Hudsomunpublished community
document n.d.).
Whitefish were an important source of food, second only to salmon. However,
whitefish were essential during years the salmon failed as a hedge against starvation.
Harmon discussed the catching of Whitefish:
16 June 1811
Sunday. Our Indians who about the middle of April (as I am informed they are wont
to do every year about that Season) left their Village to go and live upon fish that they
take out of the small Lakes [like Yeko] no great distance from this now begin to come
in as they say the season has arrived that they cannot take fish at those places.
Therefore they are going to other Lakes to fish. The Nets they make use of are made
of the inner Bark of the Willow Tree or Nettles which answer full as well for fishing
as those we have made of Twine or Thread. A number of Indians arrived from the
other end of this Lake Six Canoes and among them were two the father and Son
belonging to a Tribe who call themselves [Nataotens],38 and are the first of that nation
ever saw here (Harmon 1957:124-125).
This again illustrates people from around Nak'alBun [Stuart Lake] fishing with those
from Babine. The fact that this was the first time Harmon had met a Babine suggests
those living at Yeko were true middlemen controlling the trade at Babine with goods from
Fort St. James. Later this same year Harmon recorded fisherman catching 7000 whitefish
in nine nets (Ibid 131). This hints at the abundance of these fish as a resource. The year
Indian is used here when talking historically as it was the term used at the time.
Nataotens were those from Lake Babine

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1815 was particularly bad for salmon. Harmon observed needing to purchase salmon
from many neighbouring areas for sustenance as well as whitefish again allowing the
region to endure hardship (Ibid 157). Whitefish were clearly important to the Dakelh
people, and were also valuable to the Hudson's Bay Company, which was trying to
operate effectively in the region. The HBC initially built a fishery at Beaver Creek,
although returns were very inconsistent. The original fishery was not sufficient for their
needs as demonstrated by the poor catch over two days (shown below). James Douglas
who became a clerk at Nak'al Bun [Stuart Lake], was given the task of creating a second
fishery in the region at Yeko in 1827, where fish were known to be abundant. Morice
quoted this event from the Journals:
Saturday, 10th November, 1827. Received from the [old] fishery fifty-nine whitefish,
the produce of two nights. Clermont brought over the greater part of the nets...
Tomorrow Mr. Douglas, with two fishermen, Bichon and Clermont, and two men to
assist them, will proceed to Yokogh to establish the fishery there. This gentleman will
not only superintend the fishery, but will also collect the fish which the Indians may
have to dispose of immediately, for which purpose he is provided with leather and
other articles of trade.
Sunday, 11th. Mr. Douglas, with five men, set out for the fishery of Yokogh. They are
well provided with nets, having eight of small thread, three of willow, and four of
Holland twine... Most of the dogs are also sent to the fishery.
Wednesday, 14th. Vadeboncoeur came from the fishery and informed me that these
two days back they had not taken a sufficiency for their consumption. I ordered them
to come across tomorrow to prepare to go and join Mr. Douglas at the other fishery
[Yeko] (Morice 1971:131-132).
As revealed above, the HBC moved their fishing operations to Yeko in order to capitalize
on the abundance of fish. Yeko was known to be highly productive for some time, as
noted two years earlier on 20 July 1825, "Received from Mr. Gale 800 small fish traded
by him from the Indians of the Portage" (HBCA Bl l/a/3 1825). Later, two years after the
establishment of the fishery, the wealth offish found in that lake was still obvious:

68

In the small River issuing from the Lake of Yokugh the Salmon are so numerous that
almost any quantity could be killed with no other implement than a sharpened stick
(HBCAB188/a/14 1829).
Another example Hudson quoted was HBC men returning to Fort St James from Yeko
with 12,000 whitefish: "Several Fraser lake Indians were there... it being the only place
where they can get any fish to save themselves from famine" (17 December 1831, HBCA
B 188/a/17 fo 33, quoted in Hudson 207). This example also illustrates the importance of
Yeko to the entire region, since it drew people from Fraser Lake. The fish caught at Yeko
were not just consumed by the people who lived there and by the HBC populace; they fed
other nations. Some years later, Horetzky provided a detailed picture of the fishing he
happened upon at Yeko:
[W]e came upon a large camp of Indians who were catching the finest trout and
whitefish I ever saw. They had thousands of them hung up on poles to dry. Their
encampment was the perfect picture. What with the primitive and open lodges, the
long rows offish in the successive stages of desiccation, the half naked children
sprawling about in the snow, the dogs too fat and lazy to move, and the numerous
dugouts or canoes hauled up on the beach. This lake was encircled by high hills, and
the portion of it which we had just come over, was hard and fast for the winter; while
just here it was perfectly open and free from ice. We camped here for the purpose of
getting one of those Indians to guide us to "Gus Wright's trail," which I was desirous
of reaching by a short-cut over the mountains (Horetzky 1874:86-87, based on
observations in December, 1872).
The Portage Between Nak'al Bun and Nado Bun
Yeko was incredibly important to the HBC not only for the fishery established
there in 1827, but as a thoroughfare between Stuart and Babine Lakes for transporting
trade goods, as well as the salmon and furs that were received as payment. An important
part of the history of this place was the construction of a wagon road for transportation
from Nak'al Bun [Stuart Lake] to Nado Bun [Babine Lake] that passed by Yeko. The road
was constructed in the 1820s for hauling salmon from Nado Bun [Babine Lake] to Fort

69

St. James in order to reduce dependence on the Nak'al Bun [Stuart Lake] salmon. As was
mentioned earlier, that run was prone to failure. Father Morice described this road: "After
a number of years only, ten miles of such public highway were built by the traders of the
H.B.Co. between lakes Babine and Stuart, to cart the pelts and dried salmon from the post
on the former to that of Fort St. James, on the latter" (Morice 1930:41). Notably absent
from this description is the involvement of aboriginal labour during the construction of
the road, as is suggested by the historical record. The following account is reproduced
from October of the 1822 Babine Journal. It notes the journey of William Brown and
other employees out to establish Fort Kilmaurs, and the travel through Portage and Yeko
as well as the interaction with its inhabitants. This narrative is reproduced here in order to
provide a glimpse of what travel, trade, and the geography were really like. On the
second day of the voyage, as they arrived at the portage to Yeko, travel was extremely
arduous. The journal entry for that day illustrates how daunting travel was prior to the
road:
14 October 1822:
Weather clear and cold. Renewed our Voyage at 2 am, at Daybreak were within half a
mile of the Entrance of the River... There we found very little ice but the water so
shallow, that after carrying part of the cargo perhaps a mile and dragging the canoes
were under the necessity of taking out half of the cargo and even then we found a
great deal of difficulty and wood to cut before we were able to haul the canoes up
with the remainder. On reaching the end of the Portage procured wooden canoes from
the Indians and sent down for the cargo left below, but it was after day set before the
last man got to the Encampment though the river is not above two miles and a half in
length. Was it perfectly cleared of wind fallen wood and damned in three or four
places it would be navigable this distance and perhaps further, but it would cost a
good deal of labour.
Because of the slow progress over such a short distance, it is clear to Brown that
improvements must be made. The entry for the next day conveys the condition of the
Portage:

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15 October 1822:
Weather still clear and pleasant. In the morning managed 15 male and female Indians
with straps and part with shoes to assist us to carry on the portage. Commenced
carrying at sun rise and it was nearly sunset when the last of our people reached the
Little Lake [Yeko]. The distance I calculate to be about 4 Miles, and the road would
be good if well cleaned—But at present it is so entangled with wind fallen wood that
it forces the people greatly to pay with their loads. And we have a great deal to carry
owing to us having so much provisions...
Following the description of the Portage, Brown depicted the interaction between the
Company men and the Indians. They traded supplies and hired some of the Indians39 to
carry goods (which was common to do) as well as clear a road:
Found a few Indians at the small lake [Yeko]—who have a great many of the smallest
kind of Whitefish which are common in most of the lakes of New Caledonia. Trade
from them a sufficiency for the Men's supper and breakfast. Spoke to them for a
considerable time in advising them to be industrious and lay up a considerable stock
of provisions of every kind, which either us or the people of St. James will trade from
them in the course of the winter. Also to impress upon their men the advantages they
will derive from being kind to any of our people who may pass this way. Gave them
to understand that I would pay them handsomely if they should clear the track all
between this and the place where we debarked in the small River. This they promise
to do.
Later in this same journal entry, Brown provides us with a notable incident between the
Indians and the traders, illustrating the cunning nature of the Indigenous population as
well as the delicate nature of the trade relationship at times:
Sometime after we had gone to bed we were alarmed by the barking of the Dogs and
bawling of the Indians. Ran out with our arms when it appears from their account
"That some Indians were approaching the baggage to steal. Whom they suspect had
followed us from Tachy [On Stuart Lake] for that purpose. That the blame might fall
upon those whom we had employed to clear upon the Portage [Those from Yeko]."
A short time after we again heard a rustling move amongst the leafs and willows,
Approached the place and fired. But nothing appearing we returned to the Camp and
placed two men on watch in the branches behind with orders that if any person
approached the Baggage to endeavour to lay hold of them but if this could not be
effected to fire. It being necessary to adopt strict measures in the extent for if the
Indians succeed in stealing this year they will make it a point to attempt it as often as
we pass here.

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That evening there was no further incident although this illustrates the mentality of the
traders as well as the system of justice on the frontier. Life was cheap, especially that of
the Dakelh. The next two days were spent clearing a path to carry the canoes:
16 October 1822:
.. .Waccan40 also took his departure with two men and 8 Indians to clear part of the
track on the other side of Little Lake [Yeko]. This they did to the top of the hill on
this side of the height of land. I walked about half of the portage to ascertain the best
place for opening the road to avoid the Hills and the other impediments. When I was
sorry to find there was a great deal more wood to cut than what I was to suppose from
the view that I had of it last winter. The most of what is lying down was then covered
with snow. The Indians have nearly furnished us with a sufficiency of small fish
which they took in great numbers in their [?]
This work continued for a couple of more days. Clearing was again difficult and slow to
complete. The new road deviated from the "Indian path" (under Brown's direction) in
order to avoid a section of hills. This would make travel easier for carrying goods as well
as for pack trains. Eventually the road neared completion:
20 October 1822:
At day break sent off Waccan with ten men and ten Indians to clear the road from our
encampment to the lake which may be a distance of three miles. A short time after
joined them myself and [?] till the whole was [completed] which was about 4 P.M.
This Portage has cost a great deal of labour and some expenses, but there are not a
portage hence seen in the countries of any thing near the same length which is as well
cleared as it is from the Little Lake to the Babine Lake (HBCA Bl 1/a/l 1822).
This road would simplify transport and eventually reduce the price paid for salmon.
During the fur trade beaver skins, or made beaver, were the standard currency to
which the price of all other goods was relative. The price was not a fixed amount but
Waccan or Jean Baptiste Boucher was the interpreter at Fort St. James. He comes up frequently in
Journal entries and seems to have been well respected by both "Indians" and "Whites." Waccan was a
French-Cree half-breed who arrived at Stuart Lake in 1806 with Simon Fraser. He is credited as the first
non aboriginal (half-breed at the time was considered non aboriginal) to take a Dakelh wife (although the
union was short lived). Morice describes Waccan as "the Company's gendarme and chief executioner in
New Caledonia; he was the official avenger of the killed, the policeman who was dispatched to the villages
in order to stir up the natives and send them hunting, or to put a stop to the endless gambling parties, which
prevented them exerting themselves on behalf of the white traders" (Morice 1971:253). Waccan lived in the
area until his death in 1850.

72

varied from approximately 25 to 50 cents (Innis 318-319). Peter Skene Ogden notes this
sometime around 1835:
Salmon are bartered at the rate of 90 for one Beaver and are paid for in the most
valuable goods the Carriers know too well their own interest to take any other,
formerly at this place 60 were equal to a skin as an inducement to them to track more
and to save transportation in the winter with dogs no doubt then a good plan but as
the cause no longer exists as the introduction of Carts in the Babine Portage and
Boats have removed it consequently the facility of transport being so great and
finding we can obtain our [supplies] independent of them, they now willingly when
[they have] any to dispose of part with them at 90 per made Beaver, at Frasers Lake,
the West end of this Lake and the Babine Posts the tariff is the same, a difference in a
tariff when the Natives are constantly in the habit of meeting causes discontent and
this also was another cause of my altering it here, these in regard to Traps and Salmon
are the only changes (Ogden 1937:49-50).
This road would have a profound effect on the region as will be shown through increased
trade, and as a vital transportation route.

Trade Goods
The Dakelh were very astute and skilled traders as evidenced in the HBC
Journals. They demanded high quality goods and were highly practical in their selections.
If a fort did not possess what they were looking for they would not settle for other goods
but would travel several days to a neighboring fort. Additionally, the Dakelh monitored
prices between forts to ensure they were getting the best deal. Discussion of the quality of
trade goods was frequent at times. A good example is Steel traps that were traded to
many trappers in 1825:
6 June 1825
Penunsun and his brother ascribe their doing nothing to the badness of the Steel traps
I gave them in the Spring—and I am sorry to find that every one who has received
these traps (at least whom I have seen complain of them) it would seem the jaws are
too high and the Springs too weak. These reports will prevent us from selling any
more of them (HBCA Bl l/a/3 1825).

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9 July 1825
Arrived Cahelle from his hunting ground near the Portage. Received from him 8
Large & 5 sm. Beaver and 2 [?]. We had looked for greater things from this Indian as
being one of our best hunters. The reason given he gives for his want of [?] is the
insufficiency of the steel traps which he got from us in the Spring. There is indeed a
general complaint against the traps that came in last fall. They are certainly bad
(HBCABll/a/3 1825).
Clearly the Indians had a vested interest in the quality of goods as it affected both their
ability to earn wages for furs as well as procure food.
One of the most prominent trade goods, leather, was scarce in the region—as was
noted by Peter Skene Ogden (Ogden 1937:49). It was in high demand from the Dakelh
people for both clothing and funeral ceremony, since moose and their hides had not yet
entered the region. This was discussed by Arthur J. Ray during his testimony for
Delgamuukw. Here is the Examination on 21 March 1989 quoting pg. 51 of Ray's report:
Beginning in a weak bargaining position, the Hudson's Bay Company needed to find
a commodity it could bring into the area that was either unavailable to the coast
Tsimshian or prohibitively expensive for them to acquire. This item proved to be
leather, particularly high quality moose hides. The Hudson's Bay Company obtained
these hides from trading districts located east of the Rocky Mountains, particularly
the Athabasca-MacKenzie area. (No. 0843 Smithers Registry:21 March 1989)
Ray went on to explain that different groups had vastly different uses for the leather. The
Babine and Wet'suwet'en to the west [two closely related groups] desired high quality
leather for funeral ceremonies, whereas the Dakelh used leather mainly for clothing.
Thus, there was high value on it being imported by the HBC due to lack of availability
locally (Ibid 13630). This is shown clearly in the Journals:
19 June 1825
Our Indians grumble hard at the scarcity of Leather and we find it a very difficult task
to satisfy them without it—for leather being their principal demand, they are not fond
of giving their furs in exchange for articles they have no use for or do not
immediately want (HBCA Bl l/a/3 1825).
A few days later a group left Fort Babine for Fort St. James to trade for cloth due to the

74

lack of leather in the region (HBCA Bl l/a/3 1825). The frustration of another trader later
that summer is unmistakable, as is his tenacity:
12 July 1825
Hou-chete-ta-kie came here to day with a quantity of Beaver which he wished to
barter for Leather but finding he could obtain none he bundled up his furs & marched
off with them in high decision." HBCA Bl l/a/3 1825
Morice quoted the Journal of 5 November 1827 describing a shipment of leather:
This morning Waccan, accompanied by five men, left this place in a large canoe for
the Babine Portage; they have, as load, leather intended for the Babine country. The
object of sending Waccan is to prevent any waste of salmon whilst the people are
carrying it across the portage... (Morice 254).
This quote illustrates the high demand for leather given that it is the sole good described,
while at the same time illustrating the command that Waccan had over employees.
The records indicate women also went to the forts to trade. Trading was not
limited only to men:
3 August 1825
Arrived some Indian women from below = received from them a quantity of Berries
& 200 dry salmon. They inform us that the Large Salmon have already made their
appearance below & that the Indians kill numbers of them—& they suppose the small
Salmon are at no great distance—for they have already killed one. It is to be hoped
this news may be true—for we would now have no objection to feast on fresh instead
of dry Salmon (HBCA Bl l/a/3 1825).
16 October 1825
Chilclues wife brought 20 Ps Pine Bark—gave her in Debt 15 M Strands (HBCA
Bl l/a/3 1825).
As is implied by the latter example, bark was often traded by the Dakelh, as were dogs
and medicine (HBCA Bl l/a/3 1825).
Beyond strictly trading, the HBC also lent items to hunters with good rapport to
encourage greater returns:
1 November 1825
After a good deal of trouble I got Sun-nec-ah off for the Small Lake—I was obliged

75

to [lend him] a wooden Canoe & a Net to work Whitefish (HBCA Bl l/a/3 1825).
While relations were mostly cooperative, there are examples throughout the
journals that do shed light on some conflict, showing that tension between neighbouring
groups is old. Morice quoted a letter from Peter Warren Dease, dated July 1831, that
describes a party of six Babines arriving at the portage between Babine and Nak 'al Bun
[Stuart Lake] to kill some of the Indians there. They stabbed one man and then were
appeased with gifts. Dease commented at the end that "On hearing this it gave me
satisfaction, for had they succeeded in their horrid intentions it would have prevented
many from hunting"41 (Morice 1971:165-166). Yeko remained strategic even after Fort
Babine was built. However, its prominence would be preserved as a transportation route
both over-land and on water, and continue as a productive fishing locale.
30 October 1825
Gave Sunecah the [?] laid up for him; he is going to join his father who left this a few
days ago. I am apprehensive they will not go to the small Lake where they generally
work the W[hite] fish on account of the murder committed by that camp [?] at Frasers
Lake—they are to remain about Tatchy [on Babine]—No Whitefish can be expected
from that party nor do I think their fall hunts will be so good as if they had gone to the
Small Lake (HBCA Bl l/a/3 1825).
The above quote shows how lucrative Yeko was as a hunting and fishing ground, and
relates the conflict that did occur at times between groups [this time from Fraser Lake].
Additionally, it confirms that Babines did go to Yeko for fish, something Hudson was
unable to demonstrate.42
Because of the increase in trade, warehouses were built in 1887 to house goods on
both ends of the portage. This was due to an increase in traffic once the HBC began
transporting goods to Hazelton by paddle wheeler—up the Skeena River from the Pacific

41
42

Clearly this illustrates the self interest of the HBC employees.
Hudson did not examine the Fort Babine Journals, only Fort St. James.

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Coast—then moving them to Fort St. James via Nado Bun [Babine Lake] and
subsequently across Nak'alBun [Stuart Lake]:
Warehouse at S.E. end of Portage between Stuart and Babine Lakes for storing goods
in transit; log, with shake roof; built in 1887; cost $225.00 (HBCA B188/e/7 1891).
Warehouse at N.W. end of Portage; log and bark roof; built in 1887; cost $60.00. The
water being too shallow for the boat toget[sic] close to the shore with a cargo, a new
store was being built, and the road extended about 300 yards along the Lake shore
where the water is much deeper. The building was to be 26x20; log, with shake roof.
The work was being done by Servants employed on the Portage as time permitted
(HBCAB188/e/7 1891).
Goods were freighted by a boat on each lake:
The freight is carried from Babine Post to the Eastern end of the Lake, about 100
miles, by an open boat with a capacity of about 15,000 lbs., manned by from 7 to 9
men; thence across the Portage by wagon to Stuart's Lake, 8 miles. From the
[Western end] of Stuart's Lake to the Post at the Eastern end, about 50 miles; it is
carried on board a decked boat of about 25,000 lbs capacity, manned by 5 men. Last
year it was suggested that in replacing the boats which are rotten and unsafe for
further service, two decked centreboard boats of about 15 tons capacity each should
be build, which, with two masts and fore and aft rig, could be handled by two men.
The capacity of each being [?] equal to two trips of the pack-train would allow the
same men to make the round trip with both boats and reduce the cost of Lake
transport very considerably (HBCA B188/e/7 1891).
Work on the boats and pack trains provided employment to Dakelh men.
The fur trade continued on into the 1900s where it began slowly declining. Some
people were able to continue employment with the HBC transporting goods. The HBC
also kept horses in the area. The 1891 report notes that five horses were used for work on
Babine Portage (HBCA B188/e/7 fo 7). Donald Todd worked for the HBC: "Laborer; 25
years of age; 3 years service; was reengaged on 1st June, 1890, for 3 years; wages $40
(HBCA B188/e/7 1891). "D. Todd and J. Bull got here with the horses from the Portage"
(19 Sept 1896, HBCA B188/a/23 fo 56d).

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The fur trade and subsequent contact with Europeans helped usher in many
gradual changes in customs and way of life, most notably through the arrival of
missionaries to the region. Printed in 1895, the following describes the condition of the
Dakelh people (part of a glowing review of the person and work of Father Morice): "Of
course, their manner of life is not that of the civilized man, for their employment remains
unchanged, and they still hunt and fish like other Indians; but they have been given many
of the advantages of civilization, and none of its evils" (Somerset 1895:227-228).
Evidence and remnants of the fur trade can still be found out in the bush. Alfred
Joseph remembers one such example from when he was a teenager:
Up a certain river from Babine, certain river, three days walk up, up that river, I been
up there when I was 16-17 years old. I been up there and I been to every camp, and
when at that time, that must have been in the fifties, ah, those traps were hung on a
limb. Traps, about 30 traps in a bundle, they hang it there my dad. It was up, forty
feet up the tree, when I was there, [inaudible] that's their traps, that's how long we
never been here, he told me, you know. That's a long time (Alfred Joseph:3 October
2008).

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A Shift in Settlement: The Story of Adam and Rosa
Settlement shifted from Yeko to the present site of Portage sometime around the
1880s (Hudson 1983:206). I was told at the beginning of this project that the Tl'azt'tenne
were relocated from seasonal areas by the missionaries, so that they would be easier to
"work with;" however, while this was the case with permanent settlement in Tache with
the advent of residential school, this is not supported by the historical evidence for
Portage. As the story goes, Adam43 was the first person to move from Yekoozdli to
Portage with Rosa, a woman he took as a wife:
Adam was the first man to be here in Yekooche. He built a smoke house right near
the bridge. All the people from elsewhere come and land there, like from Fort St.
James, and Tachie. They leave their canoes or whatever they are using in the creek
and start walking, packing their belongings with them to head for Babine Lake to
make their salmon. For winter supplies, like dry salmon, dry meat, and berries;
everything they need for the winter they make it while they are across there. After
they are finished there, by wagon they bring their canoe or boat with all the supplies
for the winter and load on the wagon and come back here. They then go back on their
journey to Fort St. James or Tachie. They didn't use boat motors, they had to paddle
all the way. I got this story from my grandfather and grandmother.. .my father told—
lately people start coming in and started to clear land for where they are going to put
log buildings, the people keep coming and build their log houses and that's how this
became a village or reserve (William Joseph:unpublished community document n.d.).
This is considered to be a love story in that Adam and Rosa got together and moved to
Portage (Agnes Joseph:8,9,l 1 March 1999 TUS#41).
After Adam, others moved to Portage:
Jan Cho they call him, he's the first guy to build house [Adam built a smoke house].
They get married in Fort, Jan Cho is from north, they get married in Fort then they
stay in Fort for one year then they move to Portage and the first man to build twostory high log building. Then next Pius next to him where Willyam Joseph44 got
house now that's where he build log house. Then the next one Basil they call him,
there's some of his grandchildren they're still around yet, him, he build house there
and he give it to his son Zaa Basil. Zaa Basil, he sold that house to Dogun, [Duncan]

None of the Elders were able to tell me who Adam was.
Willyam is the Dakelh pronunciation of William.

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my brother-in-law, that's where he raise up his kids in there. Just three houses in
Portage (Willie Mattess:26 January 2009).
Soon the population base shifted down the creek from Yeko to Portage onNak'alBun
[Stuart Lake]. While the Cunningham Lake fishery remained important, the population
began to shift in the late 1800s to a location at the outlet of the creek draining the lake,
near the wagon road crossing from Nak'al Bun [Stuart Lake] to Nado Bun [Babine Lake].
This fact sets Portage (Yekooche) apart from all of the other Tl'azt'en villages which lie
along the migration route of sockeye salmon, "which hugs the north shore of Stuart Lake,
and passes up the Tachie River" (Hudson 169). Villages were practically located close to
primary resources. This reiterates the importance of salmon as a food source while
presenting the praxis of location. Additionally, this suggests as well how much
colonization could substantially change people's settlement behaviour. For the first time
Dakelh in the region were locating off of a salmon route. However, due to the fact that
the road was an important trade route it can be concluded that movement shifted from
one source of goods (or resource) to another. Thus, the choice of a new location was not
so much a departure from tradition; it was merely a modern reiteration of the same
settlement pattern.
Farming
Farming was brought to the area by the Hudson's Bay Company in order to grow
food for their employees. The HBC Journal indicates that in this region barley was a
never failing crop, oats were successful occasionally, and the following vegetables grew
very well: potatoes, turnips, onions, and carrots (HBCA Bl/188/e fo 7). In 1825 the HBC

80

maintained a meadow at Yeko, using the cut grass as feed (HBCA Bl l/a/3). Farming
was adopted early on by the Dakelh.46 George M Dawson describes the settlement and
the adoption of agriculture by the aboriginal population on 4 July 1879:
An Indian on the portage between the two lakes cultivates a little patch of land, and
though very poorly attended to, he had a fine looking crop of potatoes and a little
field of barley—the latter about three feet high with the ear just appearing—at the
date of our visit [July 4th]. He also keeps some cattle here, cutting hay for them in
swamps about the river mouth (Dawson 1881:29b).
Hudson cites Gordon who made a similar observation a day prior on July 3, 1879:
A wagon-road, fit for ox carts, connects the two lakes, and the country on either side
affords good pasture. We were surprised to find, at the head of Steward (Stuart) Lake,
a well-stocked farm, owned and worked by the Indian 'tyhee', or chief, who raised
excellent cattle, as well as good crops of hay and vegetables, lives in a cottage, and
wears an air of respectability (Gordon 1880:117 cited in Hudson 207).
1900s
Seasonal rounds, followed by a gradual shift to wage labour, predominantly
characterized the early portion of the twentieth century. In 1908, a fish hatchery was built
along the creek that drains into Yeko, which provided a new source of wage labour for
some of the villagers until it closed in 1930. Hudson states this encouraged Dakelh to
move to Portage from elsewhere (Hudson 209). Beyond offering a few people
employment, I was told the hatchery purchased fish eggs from the Dakelhne:
Fish eggs they put it in creek, they dig a hole and they put fish eggs in there, salmon
eggs, they keep it cold. In 1920 when fisheries they used to buy the fish eggs back
they buy enough and what was left they put it in creek. Right today they're still
buried yet there from 1920, they're still fresh yet, right today, we leave them like that.
I don't know why we do it but it's there yet in one of them creeks on the way to
Vandal who was sent to cut the grass was later described by Brown as "misemploying his time" after it
was discovered he did little work while no one was watching. While he was eventually removed from this
duty, it is interesting how uncritical Brown is towards this, given his often colourful chastisement of the
Indians.
46
Farming was encouraged by the government who promised assistance to those who gave up fishing for
farming. After the weirs were destroyed the government ended payments. This matter is unsettled and
currently being fought in court.

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Babine... It's pretty hard to perceive how them old timers figure those things out
(Alfred Joseph: 18 September 2008).
With the settlement moved to Portage, Yeko became primarily a fishing, hunting, and
trapping area. Hudson asserts that from the early 1900s to the 1940s, numerous families
from throughout the watershed came to Cunningham for whitefish (Hudson 1983:173).
This is corroborated by the Elders I interviewed. The fish that were caught here were char
[bit], whitefish [Ihoh], suckers, ling fish, and kokanee. The Babine Journal of 16 July
1922 records two HBC employees fishing at Yeko: "We met Mr. Aslin at the entrance to
the small Lake, he very kindly towed us down with his Gas boat, to the other end of the
Lake, where fishing was very good he said" (HBCA Bl l/a/10).

Important Impacts on Yeko
Three major events had a profound impact on Yeko during the early 1900s. These
include the arrival of moose in the territory, the landslide at Hells Gate, and the
completion of the Grand Trunk Railroad. Moose migrated into the territory during this
period and would become a staple food source for the Dakelh people. Willie discussed
the arrival of moose:
The first moose this side Pinche, it went across on the ice, winter time. They seen his
tracks so three, four of them start following that moose. Way other side Grizzly
Mountain, my dad, he was one of them too. They catch it up and they kill it, by the
time they start skinning it, its just all just like blood shot all over his body, he run too
far... After that moose start coming then the caribou disappear (Willie Mattess:26
January 2009).
Hudson asserts that the collapse of the sockeye salmon fishery in Nak'al Bun
[Stuart Lake] in 1913 was the impetus for a population surge in Portage, as people
travelled to Nado Bun [Babine Lake] for salmon (Hudson 209). Blasting in the Fraser

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Canyon at Hells Gate in 1913 caused a landslide that wiped out millions of spawning
salmon. This would damage the Fraser River salmon runs for over 30 years and leave a
permanent mark since the run has never fully recovered. While indeed this was the case,
it is important to note that Dakelh did travel to Babine prior to the landslide. Nonetheless,
as evidenced by the HBC Babine Journal, it seems this was mostly for trade and for
fishing in Babine during poor runs in the Stewart system. Undoubtedly, there was already
a dependence on Babine salmon throughout the region, which as noted earlier, was much
less prone to failure and more nutritious—as discussed by the Elders (and noted by
Meggs 1995:74). The landslide merely increased this reliance.
The Grand Trunk Railway that terminates in Prince Rupert, British Columbia,
was built from 1905-1914. Hudson concludes that in 1914 with the completion of the
Grand Trunk Railway, Portage's importance to the fur trade ended (Hudson 208). This
was due to the railroad now running from Winnipeg to Prince Rupert. In the Nechako
region the railroad bypassed Yeko, eliminating much of its utility and establishing it as a
hinterland. This meant the traditional trails and routes were no longer used by the HBC,
and rail dislodged water as the pre-eminent mode of transporting trade goods in the
region. The railroad provided transportation that was cheaper, easier, and quicker. To
some degree, this new found relative isolation was a stroke of luck for those who
continued to inhabit Yeko. They would be spared of an impending catastrophe.

1918 Flu Epidemic
The Spanish influenza pandemic of 1918-1919 was a global disaster that killed
more people than World War I (WWI). More people died of influenza in the pandemic

83

than during the four years of the Black Death (Bubonic Plague from 1347 to 1351). It is
estimated between 20 and 40 million people worldwide lost their lives to the flu
(virus. Stanford, edu/uda/). Interestingly, this pandemic had no effect on those living on
Yeko or at Yekoozdli. As Justa Monk pointed out, no one died in Yekoozdli because
people did not come from outside (Justa Monk:24 October 2008). This represents a
profound change over a short period of time. A prime location, central during the fur
trade, was all but forgotten by the outside world. Justa remarked that, "Nobody got sick
and nobody died but people that went to Tache and Pinche and place like that, people
died of this flu 1918. So, apparently it [Yeko] was pretty isolated." This was not the case
in the neighbouring communities. People living in Fort St. James, Tache, Pinche,
Trembleur Lake, and persons with traplines in those areas were hit hard by influenza. It
was noted some were buried in mass graves, and many others were buried in unmarked
graves out in their Keyoh (Justa Monk:24 October 2008). In Sai'kuz [Stoney Creek]
(close to the settlement of Vanderhoof), one third of the population was lost and at Fort
St. James 14 people died and were buried in a single day (Whitehead 1988:173). Justa
recalled many Elders speaking of how busy they were dealing with the bodies of their
relatives during the outbreak. Those at Yeko and Portage escaped this fate due to their
isolation, as well as to their ability to survive off of the land, not needing food from
elsewhere. Justa estimates that several of his aunts who lived in Yeko during the flu made
it to over 106 years of age (Justa Monk:24 October 2008).
1920s and 30s
Life during the 1920s and 30s seems to have centered around trapping, fishing,
haying, trade, employment working on pack trains transporting mining supplies, or at the

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fishery. One of the most significant changes for the Dakelh during this period revolved
around residential schooling.

Indian Residential Schools
Many of the Elders recall attending Lejac Indian Residential School during this
period, which was opened in 1922 at Fraser Lake to replace the school at Fort St. James
(opened in 1917). Alfred Joseph recalls being warned before he went to school by Isaac
Jan, "you gonna go to school pretty soon so you gonna have two worlds; don't forget
where you come from, he told me, and learn as much as you can" (Alfred Joseph: 18
September 2008). The residential school system consisted of boarding schools run in a
partnership between the Canadian Government and the major churches of the day. The
goal was to remove children from the 'negative' influences of their community and
eradicate their language and culture. By "taking the Indian out of the child" it was hoped
successive generations would become a part of mainstream society. Alfred Joseph shared
some recollections from his time at Lejac:
When I first entered Lejac in 1945 and Charles Joseph was taking care of me 'cause
he's the only one, I mean he's allowed to talk Indian to me and teach me how to
speak the English language. And before meals we're supposed to wash our hands and
our face so I went in the washroom. That's the first time I ever seen a toilet bowl
there was water in it so I wash my face. He tell me "No, that's for pooping, over
there" I have to turn on the tap, geez, I was fascinated by those things—hot and cold
running water, holy smoke. You know I wash my face in the toilet bowl. I wasn't
stupid you know but I never seen those things in my life (laughs) when I first entered
Lejac. And I used to get punished all the time for speaking Indian so we whispered,
eh? When nobody is listening, as fast as you could he taught me Indian/English
words, you know, just simple things. He told me, above all, never lift your hand up if
there's questions being asked—don't ever do that. So all those things, I learn how to
bypass all those things and learn the English language as possible. Out in the yard,
some boys quizzing me all the time how to say/speak English, eh? So that's how I did
that in 1945, 1946, and 1947. Used to go from Fort St. James, used to go behind the
bus, I mean the logging truck, right from Fort to Lejac. It was dirt road in them days.

85

Gee, by the time we got home or Lejac, Vanderhoof they used to let us get off the
truck and go down the river and drink some water, wash all that dust down. Just
covered from head-to-toe with dust, when we got to Lejac we took a shower right
away and we got de-liced eh? You know they put some of that stuff on it and then
they give us cod liver oil everyday, one spoon each (Alfred Joseph: 18 September
2008).
When Lejac was built, children were shipped from the communities to Fraser Lake and
were no longer close to home. This meant the Dakelh were separated from their children
for months at a time, which contributed to a breakdown of family (representing a major
cultural shift). Because children were away for most of the year (they returned home for
Christmas and two months in the summer) they lost of subsistence skills as well as the
oral tradition. Children were simply not around to learn traditional skills. Lejac was
closed in 1976, and the buildings were later demolished.

Subsistence in the 1930s
The Dakelh survived well during the Great Depression due to their selfsufficiency. Pierre John recalls growing up around Yeko during this time and the effect it
had on his people:
But this Depression we grow up on during the 30's—that was pretty tough but we had
all the Indian food we want. Like I say they have their own gardens, their own hay
meadows, they had catties, they had horses and we had all the Indian food we want.
We didn't suffer during those Depression, like that's why I say we had better time
than today. You see, like in lots of ways we had better life than today because we live
off the bush, eh? (Pierre John: 18 September 2008).
Most of the Elders I interviewed grew up in the 1930s.47 This section represents their life
and how they survived. This is lived experience. Even today a few Tl'azt'en and
Yekooche follow a similar subsistence pattern to the one Marianne Joseph recalls from

This period represents a substantial part of their childhood or teenage years.

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the 1930s:
I was married when I was 17 or 18 years old. I came here from Grand Rapids
(Kuzche). We really did suffer a lot, it was depression time, no government hand
out. We used to go hunting and fishing in Cunningham, called Yoko [Yeko]. We
used to dry our fish and meat, and store it away for the winter. After this is done we
go to Babine Portage [Nantl'at]... where we get ready for salmon. We make the
salmon, and sometimes we make a good catch. We have to dry the salmon and pack it
up to bring back to Yekooche for the winter. After we finish the salmon in Nantl 'at
we got to 15 Mile Creek [Talhdiche]... where we set nets for salmon. While we are
there the men go across to the place on the other side of the lake, what we call duje
k'et [huckleberry patch]. They killed their moose and bear which they had to pack
back and we the women skin it and dry it. They also brought some huckleberries too.
Then when we finish there, we pack everything up and bring it by boat to the landing,
of course we had to paddle, not sit and relax. At the landing, there was a team of
horses waiting, so we would just load up all the salmon on the wagon and bring it
back to Yekooche (Portage) and put it away for the winter.
After this, we go to Cunningham Lake, what we call Yoko [Yeko]. There we make
whitefish and moose and dry it too. After we finish in Cunningham Lake, we bring
back the things we dried and put it away for the winter. After this is done, we... make
some dried char... We did this just off of the land, we never use to go to the store and
buy meat over the counter. In winter they use kill moose and freeze it naturally. We
used to freeze fresh whitefish and char from Yoko [Yeko]... We used to leave frozen
meat and fish in warehouses so we would be well prepared for winter. We pick
berries such as, blueberries, blackberries, huckleberries, and raspberries up on the hill
behind Jan's house... On Whitefish Lake [Bilhk'a] we use to pick up blackberries...
also to North Arm we used [to] land here and there and pick huckleberries and alos
behind the big island, we pick raspberries and soapberries. Anywhere we camp for
fishing and hunting we always think of Indian medicine and make some anywhere we
went and fix it to dry and put away for winter use. Now all the shrubs whatever we
use to get it is all cleared. It is really bad now (Marianne Joseph:unpublished
community document n.d.).
Many different types of plants were gathered for medicinal purposes: "We used to
make Indian Medicine with the back of the balsam, and this was used for colds; also red
willows for wounds, and poplar for cuts or colds. Any kind of sickness, the medicine is
there for us to use. We never use[d] to run to the doctor to get medicine" (Jan Joseph:
unpublished community document n.d.). Furthermore, a person cannot just pick plants

All of the Elders said life was not easy during the depression but through hard work they had enough to
eat.

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and make medicine, "you just don't run in the bush and get Indian medicine. You got to
dream about it and then you know the right kind to get, the medicine the right strong
enough to cure you. You cannot just make it any old way just because you know how
(Alfred Joseph: 18 September 2008).
William Joseph instructed me with a cautionary tale from his youth on the
importance of not wasting food from a trip with his Grandfather to check a bear snare:
[0]nce in Portage, he went up to Whitefish Lake, that big mountain there he had
snare for bear... He catch one, gee, something like real rotten, too much strong sun on
it, just rotten that he put it down and he start skinning it. Gee, I close my nose like
that and stand beside 'urn, he get mad at me he tell me "help me. After me, if you get
hungry you get worse than this one" so I start skinning it, so then after we pack it the
whole thing back to the house... the next morning I go visit 'um. He had it beside the
stove, I didn't know it was that one—he cook the ribs of it—he tell me go ahead and
eat it so I take lil piece out and I start eating it, [I] never taste nothing... [Y]esterday
that's the one you didn't want to skin it that's the one now you're eating it, he tell me.
See that's the way they go, long time ago they don't live on pork chops or number
one [Chinese food] or Friday special (William Joseph: 18 September 2008).
William's grandfather taught him to be prepared for the worst: "Grandpa talked to us and
told us that some day when you are way out in the bush, you'll try and eat anything, even
your bait in your trap you'll eat, so start learning now what you are going to do... we
never say, 'this is spoiled and throw it away'" (William Joseph:unpublished community
document n.d.).
To make sure there was enough food to last the winter a precise inventory was
needed. Willie explained how they packaged salmon:
[W]hat they used to do is they count the salmon, they pile it up put it together and
they count it for winter and they tie it—they tie it with 'uzus tl 'oolh [moose skin rope]
skin they used to make rope out of it—with that one they tie it for one winter, like one
they tie up, that's November until December then January they tie up another one for
January, February and March, they got to have about three like that to go all winter,
they count it (Willie Mattess:26 January 2009).

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Beyond smoking and drying fish, they were also frozen naturally in birch bark containers
(Sophie Monk:3 October 2008, Helen Johnnie:3 October 2008). Alfred Joseph explains:
They use to freeze whitefish, forty in a basket, birch bark container about that long
[three feet], about that deep [six inches]. Forty, they put cover on it, they freeze it in
late fall, October when it's cold, they freeze it. Them days no freezer, my time
anyway. In the winter we chop up one at a time, two, depends on how much people
there, and we eat it like that. Why, you warm it up on the stove you know, the skin
gets thawed out, then you cut it and you just peel it off. Just plain fish, roast it with
'uchanyoo [stomach lining from bear or moose], things like that. That's the way we
use to do it (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008).
Food was stored in tsak'et [ground cellar] in raised caches called tsachun [cache in the
form of a small cabin raised on posts]. These caches were raised to keep food away from
rodents and other animals. Pierre John reminisced, "how small it look but they put away
food, every kind of food in there for all winter and it last right to spring" (Pierre John: 18
September 2008). Many of the Elders remember their parents cutting cans49 and putting
them around the upright posts so mice would not climb them. These buildings held a
whole winter's worth of food:
[M]y grandmother... she used to make dry berries, that tsachun [cache in the form of
a small cabin raised on posts] is eight-by-eight by eight high. It used to be full of
them, you know, telh [a narrow and deep birch bark container] they call it, birch bark
containers, some real big ones just full of dry berries and dry goods, eh. You know
just right to the ceiling, you know what I mean? (Alfred Joseph: 18 September 2008).
Food was divided for each of the winter months. If a supply was used before the end of
the month, one was forbidden from starting on the next month's food. This ensured the
family would make it through the winter.
William and Pierre recalled learning and being able to earn money as children.
They were taught to use a bow and arrow to shoot rabbit and squirrel. They were also
shown how to make small gooh [deadfall trap], which they used to catch weasel. They

Four gallon gasoline cans were cut and used.

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were taught these things on the land as kids so they could practice for when they were
older. Practice was important, as Willie stated, "Cause that's the food that they're
hunting, that's what we eat and they wouldn't fool around with it. They won't let me
mess around with it" (Willie Mattess:26 January 2009). The furs were sold for five cents
and up. As Pierre recalled, "squirrel—five cents each. We got to kill three squirrel, good
squirrel to buy one package snuff—it was fifteen cents. Now eleven fifty for snuff."
Weasels were sold for five cents up to fifty cents depending on the size (William
Joseph:2 October 2008).50
The topic of food was important to the Elders, and came up often in regards to
this period, not only because survival was contingent on nourishment, but because plants
and animals provided an inextricable connection between the Tl'azt'enne and the land.
As well it is a sacred connection that the Elders hope to strengthen and renew among the
Tl'azt'enne. Here, William Joseph conveyed the following wisdom with regard to
providing food for his family:
You got to really sweat to grow our kids up long time ago, there were no allowance,
no SA, no pension, no nothing. Gotta get everything out of the bush to live on. That's
the way we grow our children up, all of us, Pierre, all the Elders. That's how we raise
all our children. Now they're all big and I hope they understand what we doing. We
want them to do the same thing, one of these days it's going to come and happen
again. They'll end back the same way, if they don't know they wouldn't last long.
They got to learn right now to live and breathe. That's the only way they gonna make
it, no other way. They got to come and listen to the Elders, see what they say, not
running around out in the bush... or laughing around... They got to... sit down and
listen that's what we used to do (William Joseph: 18 September 2008).
Each of the Elders imparted knowledge of food production and gathering techniques from
their own lives, as well as that which was passed down from their Elders.

Pierre made this statement during William Josephs Interview and thus it is part of his transcript.

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During his interview, William Joseph talked frequently about what his family
needed to do to survive, and how they had to be creative. They used swamp hay or moose
hair in a gunny-sac for a mattress while some used bear skins. Rabbit skins were cut into
strips and woven together into a blanket called gus tl 'oo. William wore moccasin and
rabbit skins for socks: "We run on the ice, sixty below, just run over it and never say
we're cold... summer time we don't use nothing, just bare-footed we run around, just like
we use fifty dollar Oxford [laughs]" (William Joseph:2 October 2008). For other clothing
they were just as resourceful:
At that time we didn't know about socks or any kind of clothing. My mother... used
to make shirts out of flour and sugar sacks. It was really poor days, we were in the
depression days where there was no money coming from the governments, no
allowance, nothing (William Joseph:unpublished community document n.d.).
Clothing was always patched and fixed, and handed down from older siblings. Catherine
described how sacs ended up being used for clothing. Sugar and oats came in cloth bags
in which they put ashes from the fire in the bags and boiled them to make a kind of soap.
This removed the writing on the bags, which were then used to make shirts (Catherine
Morris:26 January 2009). Moose hides were used to make coats and pants:
They use that back strap of that moose, that one they use it for thread, they sew things
together, pants and things, shirt. That's what they use, they had no thread, no needle,
no nothing. Some they use bone, they make it real narrow and sharp, they make a
hole and put it through. That's how they sew it (William Joseph: 18 September 2008).
John Joseph describes this way of living:
We go to Cunningham Lake, pack our stuff with the kids and all we use is a big boat
to camp where we are going hunting. By paddling, we go hunting for moose. It was
really hard at that time, and windy too. When we went hunting for moose, we didn't
have motors at that time, and we had to do this to make our winter supplies. Now-adays, this young generation, what will they do? We did a lot of things by man power,
no machinery, no engines whatsoever. After we have finish all that we had to do, dry
the meat and fish. We then paddle back on the loaded boat with our supplies and land
back at the landing and get a team of horses, or if the horses are not there we pack

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everything on our back. That was the way, we worked hard...
... I use to make hay for the cows and horses in the winter. We built a barn for the
hay, and just put the hay in there. We never use to have any machinery, all done by
manpower. When we got short of hay, there was always someone to help. We did
really suffer a lot.
We never use to say let's have some coffee, but we had our own Indian Tea with cow
milk, it was good tasting, and we would never run short of tea. (John
Joseph:unpublished community document n.d.)
The Elders all spoke of how hard their parents worked to provide food for the
family, which they had to follow as they grew up. In spite of the hardships, life was good:
"Everything they make enough for all winter, that's how this survival go—year after year
the same thing... You know I think them days we had better times than today" (Pierre
John: 18 September 2008).
Additional Stories of Yeko That Persist Today
Pius Cho
Pius Pierre, known as Pius Cho (meaning well respected), is remembered as a
great man by the Tl'azt'enne, as his name suggests. William Joseph noted, "Pius Cho za
da' ookw 'ane 'eduyaih [Pius was the only one who fought for his land] (William Joseph:2
October 2008). The area surrounding Yeko was his trapline, and he is remembered as
someone who took good care of the territory. He built a cabin and smokehouse by the
lake and brought many people out with him to hunt and fish. Catherine Morris noted that
Pius had a very large dugout canoe he made out of a cottonwood. He also had a house
and barn at Yekoozdli for haying.

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The Moose That Would Not Give Up (Told by Duncan Joseph, Collected and Edited by
Verona Manderson)
This is a true story that happened many years ago. We were working in the bush,
hunting and fishing for winter food. It was bull moose hunting season. We were three
families working together. There was old Pius with his wife Caroline and their three
grandchildren, Peter, Silver Basil, and Armond Haskil [sic]. There was myself, Duncan,
with my wife Agnes and our two children, Dorothy and Patrick. Finally, there was
Michael Morrice [sic] and his wife Catherine. It was September 12, 1937 and we were
camped at Cunningham Lake fishing camp.
The next morning, September 13, we set out for bull moose hunting. We went up
the mountainside, two in a team. Armond and I got in close to a big bull moose and a
young one. I shot twice at the big bull and then I shot the young bull. When Peter and
Silver Basil heard the shots, they came running over to help us skin the moose. We took
just a little meat in our bags because it was getting late. Those were the first moose we
got on that first day.
Old Pius had taken the canoe further on to where we make it back to shore. Then
later that evening, he and Peter went by dugout to the next bay to look for moose.
Michael,-Armond, and I went out to Little Lake. Silver stayed behind at the camp. Before
long, we heard shooting back at Cunningham Lake. We counted seventeen shots. Soon
we spotted two big bull moose. We shot at them and we wounded one. Then did we ever
start running! Michael went after the wounded moose and Armond and I ran after the
other. Michael caught up to the wounded moose, but Armond and I had no luck.
By then, it was getting very late, so we went back to the lake. As we came near
the camp, we could hear men's voices. We had supposed that Silver would still be there
alone. We said to each other, "They made all the shooting but maybe they got nothing."
Peter came out while we were landing and said, "We got one big bull. Grandpa wants you
to help skin it. The other moose was wounded but it got away." So we went back with
him to skin the moose. We did not take the meat because it was dark. Old man Pius said,
"We'll get all the meat tomorrow and track down the wounded moose too. I am sure it
was wounded. I don't think it went too far because it got shot, but not in the right spot."
So we went back to the camp for the night.
Early next morning Pius was up and made the campfire. He cooked breakfast,
then called the boys and said, "It's a beautiful day! Hurry it up, boys. You have to gather
all the meat today. But first, we have to get the moose we wounded last night!" Soon we
were all ready. Pius said, "Boys, I had a very bad dream last night. So be very careful
today." Then we started out to look for the moose. Old Pius, Michael Morrice, Peter and
Armond followed after the wounded moose. Silver Basil came with me to cut up the
moose that was half done. A little while later we heard a shot, so we knew the moose they
were after was still alive. We were busy cutting up the meat when I heard someone
coming. I said, "What do you want?" It was the young boys. One said, "Grandpa wants
the axe. He shot the wounded moose on the back of the head, but its's not dead yet. So,
he's going to chop off the head to save the shells." So I handed them the axe and they
left.
It was just a very short time later when we heard a man moaning and calling for
help, "Come over, hurry! Come quick!" I grabbed my gun and started off, running as fast

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as I could. Then I saw the moose, still standing. I shot at it, but it didn't drop. Then I saw
Michael, standing by old Pius. He had been standing there by Pius, watching for the boys
who were coming with the axe when the moose suddenly jumped up and horned Pius in
the belly. Michael and the boys were still standing by old Pius. When I got to them, we
took off old Pius' cartridge belt and saw that his guts were out. I pressed them back in
and bandaged him up with handkerchiefs.
While I was with old Pius, who was very ill, Michael and the boys went to see if
the moose was still nearby. Yes, the moose was still standing on the shore where it had
been shot last evening when they first shot at it. They fired five more shots. Then, finally,
the moose died. We packed Pius to the shore near to the dugout, made a fire,, and laid
Pius close beside the fire to warm up. It's a little cool in early September. Old Pius said,
"Skin the moose that hurt me." We worked very fast. Then off we went again with Pius,
hurrying, because it was such a serious case.
We paddled very carefully. It was a very nice day. A calm day. We had to travel
about three miles to get back to the main camp where old Pius' wife and our families
were. When we landed, the boys called for Caroline, old Pius' wife, to come to the
dugout. "What happened?" she asked, and we told her all about it. Then I set out for the
other end of Cunningham Lake. From there I walked five miles to Portage where old
Chief John lived. I brought the message to him, telling him what had happened to his
brother Pius. Chief John said, "No wonder. You just left yesterday and I knew something
was wrong." It took a little time to find a gas and motor boat. Then I went to Tache to
pass on the message to Pius' only son, his brother, and his friends. I told them what had
happened and they all got ready right away and we all travelled back to Portage. From
there we went on to Cunningham Lake where old Pius was still waiting.
That was on 15 September. And next day we started out to bring Pius by boat and
to Portage by canoe stretcher. We brought him back to Portage. Doctor and Priest were
waiting for him. They took him right out by boat to Fort St. James and there on by car to
Prince George hospital and there old Pius Pass away on 20 September 1937. He was a
great man, a good bushman too. He looked after the church, and rang the bell and said the
prayers.
One Elder explained to me that shortly before this happened to Pius, he had a
black dog that would not stop barking at him one morning when he was in a hurry. The
dog kept following him around barking, so finally, to make it stop, he grabbed his
pitchfork and stabbed it in the stomach. The dogs intestines were left hanging out and it
was put down. It is said this is why the moose did what it did to Pius that day (Catherine
Morris:26 January 2009).
Pius Cho was critically wounded by the moose. It was noted that, '"in a flash', it
pick him up in his horn and he dance with him in circles. Had him by the stomach and

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real big fir tree, rotten fir tree, he ram him into it... Spin him around, and ram him into
tree and that was it" (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008). Those who were shown the inside
of his stomach said the whole thing looked like ground meat. Pierre John remembers
seeing Pius after the accident:
I was just little kid, ookwadusyin 'ink 'e nus 'en [I was standing at the doorway
looking at him] 'et da' nja dusulh 'en [and he was gesturing to me to come] 'inka
oowunusya sla yilhchoot [and I went to him and he took my hand] and he put it on
that place. Sa' da 'et duyalhdzin [He kept it like that for a long time] 'Awet gak
'ankw 'us 'on 'at nalhunyuts 'izt 'el [I will not see you again] whuzun 'a sizghi 'ust 'oh ",
sulhni da' [this is the way I will go, he told me]. Sk 'ents 'i' 'inle [he loved me], buba
benawsdzi 'inka da' sk'ents 'i' 'inle' [I was named after his father that's why he loved
me]. 'En Burns Lake ts 'e nuhudulh 'ink'ez [when he goes to] Fort ts 'e Christmas
whutso [before], box soo dizbun [filled to the brim], sweets and fire crackers, 'et
dunt 'i-i [things like that], 7 da' sba yookuk [he used to buy for me] 'et nyan skahuyih
[and he calls me from across the creek] 'et ookwusyaih [and I would go and get it].
Every year they used to do that to me (Pierre John:2 October 2008).
This story illustrates how strong and resilient the TPazt'enne are. Pius, who was badly
wounded, survived for over a week. Several Elders have pointed out that Pius was a
dreamer; this being the only possible way for him to survive. This story also lives on in
memory as a tool to teach generosity, respect for domestic animals, and respect for
nature. Living in harmony with the natural world was central to the people's dependence
on animals for survival. If one were to upset that balance, justice would occur. As
Catherine Morris observed, "Gee, honujut whe whunul 'en ts 'e 'uja 'inle'" [that was a
very powerful thing that happen to him] (Catherine Morris:26 January 2009).

Jan Cho: Pius Cho's Brother
Jan Cho [well-respected John] is held in high regard by the community to this
day. He was a community leader, cultural teacher, and mentor to many of today's Elders.
Although remembered as a small man, he seems to have been larger than life (Sophie

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Monk:3 October 2008). Pierre and several of the Elders spent much of their time with
him growing up, learning their traditional ways. Alfred Joseph remembers Jan Cho
fondly from when he was a child:
Well the way Jan Cho [well-respected John] and Galolen [Caroline], the way I
remember them in 1942... they had grizzly bear skin for mattress and one on top for
blanket. When I used to go to visit them, used to play around on that, my mother told
me "You shouldn't do that—me whe 'hoont'oh [something deserving of respect or
fear]—you not suppose to do that, old people said. Then Galolen [Caroline] said " 'Oh
whute 'ut'en, tsoodun unt'oh [Just let him do what he's doing, he is a child]." I used
to love to play on that grizzly bear hide, nice and soft, thick, and it was as flexible as
blanket, Hudson Bay blanket, et da' et dunt'oh, [that's how it felt].
[E]very month he get pension, used to get box and in that box he gets peas, beans,
you know dry beans and dry goods and flour - HI bit of flour and saccharine, they call
it sugar, liquid sugar. All that she used to get every month, she used to pick just
enough for themselves and all the rest it was my duty to go all around the reserve and
give them one cup each and one drop of saccharine in their tea. And them days - no
sugar, sugar was hard to get during the war and used to call me Ampez sulhni da' [she
called me Ampez]... Alfred is my name and use half my name and half peas, she
used to call me Ampez. You know for that specific reason... [I] [r]emember them for
that.
She was blind and she had a stove about four feet long, cast iron stove... she used to
feed the fire herself and cook on that stove herself for Jan, on that stove by feel—
cook like that. All those things I was fascinated by it as a child. She had silvertip grey
hair, silvertip, so old eh? That's the reason why I remember it then. And that's why I
name one of my daughter Caroline and the other one, my son... Isaac Jan. That's why
I name them after them (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008).
Although Jan Cho passed away before Justa Monk was born, Justa was taught much
about his grandfather growing up:
I understand my grandpa had seven different gardens, [in] seven different areas, and
stuff. They lived off the land, they lived off the water and everything, fish and
wildlife... They enjoyed their living from what mom told me that there was really no
harsh feeling among people as I see today. They really had unity, they had love and
respect for one another, and things like that... But then the five brothers that own it
[Yeko] they had to... cooperate with one another and stuff, because they are all there
with their family and making a living so. According to mom, grandpa was the head
person there, like Dayi Cho [Big Chief] they call them, and I guess he was more of in
charge of everything from what mom told me about it (Justa Monk:24 October 2008).

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Justa fondly stated, "I wish to hell I could have seen my grandpa, I heard he was quite a
man—Jan Cho (Justa Monk:24 October 2008).

Old Joe Hanson
Stories abound about Old Joe Hanson, a powerful medicine man. It is said that he
received his powers after helping a moose in Babine Portage:
Yak'in 'a [Place name—A Hill Up Into The Clouds] they call it, there's a hill go up
like that and straight down cliff—not really high. One day he was sitting up there the
end of that cliff he see cow-moose down below—he's having lil one, he say it cry like
woman... He went down there and he help 'urn pull that lil one out, take out his shirt
and he wipe 'um and he hang up that shirt, next day he went to check on them, no
moose around but his shirt was hanging there—just like brand new. That's where he
start... (Willie Mattess:26 January 2009).51
After this incident Old Joe Hanson became a powerful healer. Willie Mattess recalled the
time Joe healed his brother-in-law:
My brother-in-law he swallow bone, sharp, about that long, he swallow it and it get
stuck and he throw up blood and foam so Zaa William he went to Babine Portage to
get Joe Hanson... He tell them to give 'um water—half—they give 'um water. He
[Joe] drank some himself, he make Francis drink some. He put it back down, Francis,
lil while after he start to throw up—he just get about that high just foam and blood.
That guy, that old Joe he just put his hand in there and he feel around and he take that
bone out—give it back to him—this [is] the one do that to you (Willie Mattess:26
January 2009).
Beyond being a powerful healer, Old Joe is the only person Alfred can recall ever talking
about sweat lodges. These sweats took place out in Babine in secret as it was against the
law. According to Old Joe Hanson, the intense heat gave him visions. He is remembered
as a very powerful man who used to win competitions testing stamina and endurance.
Alfred recalls, "Si 'uk 'enus_ 'uztus 'inle' ni da' Old Joe Hanson, [I am the most powerful,
Old Joe Hanson used to say]" (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008).
51

Justa Monk told the same story in his interview as well.

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Joe Hanson was also a wise teacher. He taught today's Elders, when they were
children, about life long ago. Justa Monk remembers being taught stories:
I remember Old Joe Hanson from Babine Portage, he use to come and stay with mom
in the winter and he'll sit, he'll make his bed on the floor. Nobody touch his bed,
nobody touch his bed roll, I was the only guy that got away with it... 'cause he was a,
what you call this, doctor [medicine man]. I remember him healing up my dad and
things like that but... when he sits beside the stove, the heater stove and keep his back
warm and smoke, start lighting his pipe, my mom said get on the bed, stay behind me
your grandpa is going to talk. And that's the thing he taught me and I had to sit there
and listen to the old guy talking and he use to talk about way longer time, even before
mom and dad... it's really hard to remember because you know, you are paying
attention, you're young, and I was pretty restless, I always wanted to play and stuff
but when it comes to story telling I had to park my ass pretty quick (Justa Monk:24
October 2008).
Alfred Joseph could recollect being taught by Old Joe about hunting:
[B]ack strap of a moose, went behind on a back of a bow, to give it a maximum
strength, pulling power. Old Joe Hanson showed me and told me that. Said when he
was young, he use to kill moose with that. You got to stay down wind of the moose
and get at least twenty feet away and shoot him through the rib cage, through the
heart. That thing is made out of stick they call it tsetselh ti [axe handle] You burn it
until it becomes rock hard, steel hard, and you propel that it's just short stuff, short
you propel that so hard it goes right through the rib, through the rib cage. Now to do
that kind of thing takes a lot of dedication and you're always taking a chance (Alfred
Joseph:3 October 2008).
Alfred discussed how Old Joe used bow and arrow in his lifetime, but Alfred's Great
Grandfather (who was younger) used a muzzle loader: "from Old Joe to my
grandfather... on my dad's side, you see there's two different eras: bow and arrow to
bizigab [muzzle-loading musket] (Alfred Joseph: 18 September 2008).

Falling Through The Ice
William Joseph told of a winter when he fell through the ice at Yeko:
And in Cunningham Lake we just about drown there... right in the centre we went
through the ice, three of us: Charles Joseph, Isaac John and me. Nobody around just
three of us, we were trying to make short cut and we went [through] right in the

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centre... and we stayed there about two hours... Isaac he show us rosary. He show it
to us and he tell us we're all dead now. You better pray and where we gonna go and
pray to him. There, I look back, Charles was on the ice, there, me too, I went on the
ice. That's how we get saved. Now, they're both gone already but me just myself, I'm
still alive... About two or three hours we stayed in the water, north wind blowing
with the snow, holy, talk about cold (William Joseph:2 October 2008).
Pierre Added:
The old man he's talking about he crawl about half a mile from where they went
through the ice, he crawl to the shore then he crawl to the bush where he can find big
spruce tree standing. Just that one tree standing in the bush, he see it, that's what he
crawl to. Then with his hand he make hole... and he sleep in there when we get
there—he was still alive. Like he said they stayed there for about two or three
hours—north wind blowing with snow too, cold, when we got there. That time, we
make real big fire, take out all his clothes, wipe him up real good and put on dry
clothes (William Joseph:2 October 2008).
Don't walk on the ice
Helen remembers being told not to walk on the ice in the spring:
... the stories of my mom was telling us when in the spring time, when they were up
there in Yeko, in the springtime when they went up there on the ice and then ah, my
mom she said ah, don't go on the ice when is, when is starting to turn black on the
side of it. It turning black when is, don't go on the ice, he said once they did, she said,
when they get there, they get there in the morning it's frozen and it was real nice on
the ice, real and they went on the ice and they went on the island and they were
playing there she said when they were small. And they said, ah they drag each other
with a sleigh or toboggan or something and she said the next morning they woke up
the ice was all gone. That's why [they] tell us not to go on the ice when it's turning.
They just walk on it, they get there, next morning they were playing around on the ice
but the next morning it was gone (Helen Johnnie:3 October 2008).

1940s
One of the most substantial changes during this decade was the development of a
mine at Pinchi Lake. In 1938 a mercury claim was staked at Pinchi Lake and the mine
operated from 1940 to 1944, as the only mercury producer in the country at the time. It

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reopened in 1967 and operated until 1975 (Norcan 2000:6). Up until this point seasonal
rounds remained unchanged:
We then go to Cunningham Lake to make our supplies for haying time. We go there
in May and come back in August to start on the hay. After we finish with the hay then
we go back to Cunningham Lake, we call Yeko, for hunting and fishing for making
our winter food like dry meat and dry fish. We stay up there until late fall around
November, by then we make enough so we paddle back to the landing with all what
we made fish and meat. We never use wagon with horses, we pack everything [on]
our back to Yekooche, Portage (William Joseph unpublished community document
n.d.).
After the mine opened seasonal rounds were interrupted by work for the mine. Hudson
notes that the mine opening in 1940 coincides with a period of low fur prices, making
trapping uneconomical, and wage labour that much more appealing (Hudson 1983:210).
Hudson contends that while a break in the pattern of subsistence did occur, the money
earned as wages was used to support families (although it was insufficient) or even
towards the purchase of the rights to a trapline. As such, the wage economy provided a
means to an end, in once sense, enabling the continuation of Tl'azt'en traditional
subsistence, and in another, requiring it (Hudson 1983:210-211). As Pierre explained,
"Before then we just do nothing but trapping but most winter we don't make nothing
depending on the luck. So we got to work steady wherever we can" (Pierre John:2
October 2008).
Because of hard times most Dakelh in the region ended up working up in Pinche:
"When Pinche Lake [mine] started, there was no work around, so Margaret and myself
went down and loaded up. We didn't know where to go, so we found a trail and we took
the path and we were in Pinche Lake" (John (Jan) Joseph:unpublished community
document n.d.). Hudson notes that during this period only a few people remained living
in Portage (those with no jobs) (Hudson 1983:212). Work for the Dakelh primarily

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involved cutting wood called flip-flop for the steam ships : "Four feet by four feet high
by eight feet long, one cord, two fifty ($2.50) a cord, those guys did" (Alfred Joseph:3
October 2008).
Alfred recalls spending time on the territory with his grandfather during this
period:
[W]hen I was a kid too in 1943-42, people they were still using dog team. I use to go
with Keyom from there, over the ice to Whitefish Lake, one day travel. Had dog team,
I use to sit on the sleigh and that, I had a lot of fun doing it... I figured it was real
good holiday. [Laughter]... I use to cry for him to go with him. My granny, 'bring
him along he's crying for you.' 'A ndun liyap [...Oh this mischievous child] tadisni
[I'm tired of him]' [laughs] but still I use to go with him eh. I really enjoyed myself
eh. That's where we take out trap, we bait it, I follow him all over the place (Alfred
Joseph:3 October 2008).
1950s and 60s
Small logging and sawmill operations were the major seasonal employer as
hundreds sprouted up throughout the region during the 1950s and 60s. In Fort St. James,
workers lived in Twenty Four Camp, named after the length of time it took to make home
brew. Pierre recalled working during this period: "Well, during the [fifties] logging start
all over... And we work all summer long in the Fort St. James area or sometimes I work
in logging camps and stuff like that. And during my time we work winter and summer to
raise our kids" (Pierre John:2 October 2008). In the 1960s the timber industry
amalgamated, forming larger operations in areas such as Babine and Fort St James. These
larger entities ran year round, eliminating the need for seasonal Indian labor (Hudson
1983:211). Thus, in the late 1960s people moved back to Portage and settled back into a
pattern of subsistence based on hunting, fishing, and farming. Morris and Fondahl argue

52

Steam ships were used by the mining company to transport supplies up the lake to the mine. The wood
was used to power the steam engines.

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that increased mechanization (requiring specialized training) during this period as well as
the rise of labour unions (creating both minimum and set hours), squeezed Dakelh out of
the operations (Morris and Fondahl 2002). Traditional subsistence carried on during this
period albeit with some changes. As Justa put it: ".. .living in Portage... you had to live
off the land. The only income that you had was mom and dad, or dad trapping. Mom
making moose hides and slippers and stuff like that" (Justa Monk:24 October 2008).
Almost every family in Tache, Portage, and Yeko had a garden, and people canned berries
and jams for the winter. According to Justa fifteen or twenty families were living in
portage while he was growing up.
We had potatoes, I use to love cooking turnips in the fire, every time dad brought
some I use to put it in the campfire, eh, and cook it. But we had dry char, dry
whitefish, dry meat, blackberries and bear grease mixed, and bannock, that's about it.
If you live, if you want... and the fish eggs, and if you eat blackberries and bear
grease, you take a couple spoon of that and you're good for all day, you never get
hungry, like you keep working and stuff until evening time. Sometimes when they
catch char or whatever, they'll eat, cook it fresh and boil it in a campfire with
potatoes and stuff. So, we had a lot of food, we were never hungry (Justa Monk:24
October 2008).
1970s
Hudson (1983) explains that during his research in the 1970s the area at Yeko was
utilized by only a few extended family groups. During this period, the area could only be
reached by aircraft or boat and "appeared to be lost in time, on the margin of Canadian
society" (Hudson 1983:205). Hudson argues convincingly that for Yekooche in the 1970s
"its marginality... is a result of capitalism" (p. 205). He explains that with a shift from
mercantile to industrial capitalist uses of the Nechako Plateau, villages such as Portage
lost their utility. This shift was because First Nations were primarily employed to
transport supplies and work the once productive fisheries. During the 1970s a shift in

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mode of production among Dakelh took place back to hunting, trapping, and fishing.
Hudson explains that this was "a consequence of the reorganization of the timber industry
in the region in the mid-1960s and the infusion of transfer payments. As one villager
succinctly stated the process: 'I worked in the sawmills in Fort St. James in the 1960s. I
came back to Portage when the sawmills shut down'" (Hudson 1983:205).
Hudson describes the village of Portage in the 1970s during his research:
It contains about 85 people, living in fifteen houses, with a small store run by one of
the villagers, a school, and a teacherage (built in 1976), a church (built in 1896), a
priest's house, health clinic, several barns, numerous smokehouses, and a number of
cattle and horses. In addition to Portage, several families maintain smaller camps with
cabins and smokehouses at a number of locations in the immediate region.
The villagers utilize the resources of several watersheds: the head of Stuart Lake, the
head of Babine Lake and adjacent river valley, and the Cunningham Lake basin,
which drains into Stuart Lake. In this area, the villagers fish for salmon, whitefish,
and char: hunt for moose: raise hay and vegetables: and trap a variety of fur-bearing
animals (Hudson:unpublished community document n.d.).
Horses and cows were kept by the people. Alfred Joseph recalled that originally they had
150 cows, and 54 head of horses in Portage. By 1972 that number was down to fifty cows
and less than twenty horses (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008). Today only one horse
remains, a lone reminder of a vanished lifestyle.
The root of change responsible for a shift away from farming according to Justa
Monk, (who was chief during this period) was government assistance:
The gardens disappeared in... Tl'azt'en Nation didn't see welfare cheques until 1975.
Everybody else from there to '75, they were living off the land, they were still
trapping, everything and stuff, '75 that's when the welfare cheques from federal
government started coming around53 and that's when slowly but surely the gardens in
Tache start disappearing, and the gardens in Yekooche start disappearing and the
cows in Tache and the catties in Portage start disappearing. So, eventually the

The year 1975 marked a change in government policy giving Bands more control over funding for
programs and resources (this was the closest thing I was able to find in terms of verifying Justa Monks
1975 date.

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government programs really didn't help us any but damage us because everything
was let go (Justa Monk:24 October 2008).
Present Day:
Today change has taken place in Yeko. There is a rough logging road into the area
requiring a four-wheel drive vehicle, and farming is no longer practiced. Geographic
isolation is still evident, however it is not nearly to the extent of the past. Over the last
100 years, Yeko has been a place for hunting and fishing and remains so to a few people.
Today, Yeko suffers from depleted fish stocks,54 and while it is not as productive as it was
in the past, it is rich in history. The area may also rise in prominence again at least
amongst the Dakelh:
Forest is drying up and there'll be no more trees, there'll be completely no more
sawmill, no more timber work anymore. And on the end, the final thing, I think, is...
pension, welfare and family allowance—that's gonna stop one day when the hard
times coming, where they gonna get the money [to] give welfare, pension and family
allowance. The money come from the land... But if there's nothing coming from the
land it'll be nothing left... to look after these things. (Pierre John: 18 September
2008).
Pierre John warned me about the future saying, " 'Uda' yinka diyanduzdunizye'
'onnus ntsi' tileh [It's going to be worse than when our ancestors were living] (Pierre
John: 18 September 2008) and William added, "They got to listen—open their ear—only
way they're going to survive. If they don't know nothing, they'll starve before the dogs
starve, that's what is going to happen (William Joseph: 18 September 2008). The life and
experiences of those who have gone before us, provides great wisdom learned through
both triumphs and misfortune. It would be wise to heed their advice based on stories of
the past:

I was told that many non aboriginal people have over-fished there over the years due to its reputation.

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[W]hat you believe in, you gotta believe until you die. That's what you live on, sort
of. You know, but if I didn't believe my grandpa and my parents, my uncles, my
aunty, like I say, I wouldn't be here. I believe in what they tell me and I listen to
them, that's why I'm here... that's why I live this long. This is true story (Pierre
John: 18 September 2008).

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4.0 Making Sense Of My Experience Within This Research
Introduction
Making sense of this research has been a journey unto itself. This chapter attempts
to look at the themes that arose throughout my work with the Elders. I have learned over
the course of this research that the Elders operate within a holistic reality in which all
concepts overlap and inter-relate. While the philosophical foundations over the divide
between the spiritual and the natural are complex, and contentious, they exceed the
bounds of the present discussion. Consciously I have chosen not to judge this dichotomy
because clearly, this is their reality. Any attempt to do this would undermine the cultural
and social legitimacy of this knowledge, as is an attempt to categorize the Elders' words
topically. That said, several general themes emerged: Importance of Community,
Learning Traditions, and Treaty. This chapter represents a crude attempt to answer how
the Elders make sense of their knowledge and in turn provides an opportunity for me to
examine my own experience. I will also contemplate theoretical implications and
opportunities for further research emerging from my analysis.

Importance of Community
[W]e depended on each other and we depended on the land and that was how we
lived and survived—Justa Monk (Moran 38).
Each of the Elders discussed how close-knit the communities were in the past.
This was in many ways necessary for survival through the sharing of resources between
family groups and clans, which is no longer as it once was. People worked together, and
those who controlled keyoh would bring others who had large families or no trapline of
their own; to hunt and fish on their keyoh. People also spent much more time living from
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one community to another, seasonally, to assist family members and share limited
resources. Pierre John spent more time growing up in Portage, but was often in Tache:
"Sometimes we live in Tache for a time when my dad is trapping with somebody in
Tache or do hunting or fishing and stuff like that. My mom is from Tache [but] our home
was in Portage" (Pierre John:2 October 2008). Intermarriage created strong bonds
between the Dakelh and Babine. Pierre's grandmother was from Babine. He recalls,
"actually about fifty percent of our people are from Babine. If they look back that far"
(Pierre John:2 October 2008). Alfred Joseph remembers his parents trading frequently
with people from Babine who came to Yeko or Portage with store bought goods and
exchanged them for dry meat and dry fish (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008). The overall
theme the Elders revealed was that no hard, fast, divisions between populations existed,
and their people worketftogether and helped each other. Justa Monk illustrates how this
was accomplished on a day-to-day basis:
When I was a young boy in Portage it would have been unthinkable to steal or to
destroy someone else's property. Often my dad would point to a neighbour's house
and say, "Go over there and see if the house is okay. Make sure the windows are not
broken." I would check everything as I had been told to do. People left their guns,
their motors, everything in their boats, and we would be sent by our parents to look
and make sure that everything was safe. We wouldn't touch or break anything. That
was what was expected of the boys and girls in those days and that was what we did
(Moran 1994:42).
Based on the linguist James Kari's discussion around the differences between
Babine-Wet'suwet'en and the Carrier Language during the Delgamuukw court case (No.
0843 Smithers Registry February 6, 1989 ), I infer that Yeko was in some respects a
linguistic and cultural melting pot between the Dakelh and Babine people. Kari contends
both languages are distinct, but through intermarriage language learning occurred and
they were mutually intelligible. This assessment is supported by the Elders who described

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several instances of intermarriage between the neighbouring groups. Traditionally
marriages were arranged by families (Helen Johnnie:3 Oct 2008). People moved between
communities as a result of marriage, although permission had to be granted by the village
leader [Keyoh Whuduchun] (Helen Johnnie Interview^ Oct 2008). Strict rules governed
community living. If someone took resources from another family's keyoh the rightful
owners would confiscate whatever was stolen. The Elders say people who did not follow
the community protocols would be chased out (Helen Johnnie:3 Oct 2008). Presently, the
intelligibility of the languages is not at the level it was historically. As one Elder
commented after discussing the Babine speaking a distinct language, "All we understand
is wo' [yes inNadot'en]" (William Joseph:2 Oct 2008).
'Uda Whuk'una Whuts'odul'eh: Traditional Learning
John Muir wrote, "When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched
to everything else in the Universe" (www.sierraclub.org). This in some way parallels the
Dakelh 's traditional philosophy. All life is interconnected. Justa Monk explains:
[N]one of our people at Yeko at that time been to any kind of school but yet they
knew how to handle the land, they knew how to respect the land because everything
was created by the Creator and they knew that... All those culture related spiritual
stuff was taught to us, well to me anyway. Today it's not there (Justa Monk:24
October 2008).
Learning traditions was important. They were directly tied to cultural practices and
intertwined with the day-to-day activities of subsistence. Surviving off of the land
required substantial learning, "just because you are Indian, you cannot run in the bush,
you know (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008).
Alfred discussed how learning occurred on the land while maintaining the Dakelh
language and culture:

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See, it was really learning procedure way of doing things. That story meant
something, you know. You put it in safe and tell the stories in such a way that it burns
into memory. See, that's the way they tell a story, they said it over, and over, and over
again but you never tired of those kinds of stories. I never did. I always like to listen
to those kinds of stories, even every night if we have to" (Alfred Joseph:3 October
2008).
Justa explained how teaching was tied closely to subsistence:
Children and grandchildren were always part of whatever was happening, and
everyone, kids included, had snowshoes. The men made the frames and the women
made what we call babiche, weaving for the snowshoes, made of the skins of cows or
deer or moose. Those trips to the traplines were very important. The skins gave us
money for supplies, but along with this, on those days in the wilderness, the children
were given instruction in living off the land. They were lessons that young people like
my brothers and sisters and I never forgot" (Moran 1994:36).
Listening and learning occurred out on the territory and was a continual process:
Oh, when I was about ten year old, twelve year old. Then I start helping my
grandfather and my father; go around with them in the bush. Sometimes if they have
to go too far they have to pack us 'cause we play out—too small. But they go far
enough where we could make it, teaching us how to do things there. We're out in the
bush all the time (William Joseph:2 Oct 2008).
Alfred Joseph recalls going out at an even younger age:
I used to ride with my grandmother up Tache River. My gran she paddle with dugout
canoe she set rat traps up the river there, both sides. I used to collect those sand
stones, all kinds of different shapes. Me, I didn't paddle, I just sat and keep 'um
company, I guess. I used to pick those things whenever she's setting traps... You
know, that's where I learn all them names eh, what she outline... I used to go with
my grandfather on my mom's side, Keom, right from Tache to Whitefish Lake. We
used to go with dog team... (Alfred Joseph: 18 September 2008).
William Joseph recalls most of what he was taught was practical skills:
They said lots about it but it's just they tell us how to hunt, trap and fish. Fish—how
to gut it and... things like that, that's all the stories they give us—they teach us how
to do it.... how to make nets in the bush—by willow bark. We peel it, it take us whole
day to peel it and we make enough then we sit down and we sit down beside the shore
then we start to take out the peeling then after we start to break it up and make it real
narrow. And then we make net out of it and we set it out there and we catch one char
with it. Then we catch one beaver with it, we set it in front of the beaver dam. That's
how he tell us, later when you get stuck in the bush you'll know how to get your food.
That's why he was teaching us that. Yea, they teach us everything—the name of the

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trees, grass, everything. That's how we grow up and that's how we know it now
(William Joseph:2 Oct 2008).
The stories must be told and retold to ensure their survival. As humans, we go
through our lives often with memories so short that we forget what we used to know.
Retelling solidifies the past both in the mind of the teller as well as that of the listener.
The Elders recognize that things must change. Henry Abel Joseph explains, "What my
mom used to say is to not be trifle, to be sympathetic to everyone. She said that before
she died and she said it many times" (Henry Abel Joseph:5 June 2008). The people want
to be constructive and move forward. One of the ways of doing this is to learn their
history, and get the younger generations out on the land. In this sense, the Elders will
once again provide mentorship, solidarity, and cohesion to the community.

Concerns About Youth
One of the problems discussed in this thesis is that younger generations do not
know their history. Many in Burns Lake, and Babine55 don't know the history of
Tl'azt'en and Yekooche using Nantl'at [Babine portage]. The Elders are not happy with
both the lack of knowledge and direction with many of the youth. They are hoping to
resolve this by taking the initiative, as they realize: ".. .we're going to have to be the ones
to teach them, there's nobody else that's going to..." (Alfred Joseph:5 June 2008). In
order to learn one must listen and pay close attention. William Joseph describes how this
worked:
When we're stuck in the bush, we know what to do but these young children just
know how to smoke. Yea, we teach them but pretty slow though. They don't listen
clear enough. Us, when our parents they used to start teaching us, talking to us, giving
As well as Tl'azt'en and Yekooche.

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us good advice, we stay quiet. If we move our head they take out their belt out and
they hit us on the head. They tell us we gonna live on this world that's why we're
teaching you—don't move around and don't listen to anybody else, that's what they
used to tell us. That's the way we been trained. That's why now I'm eighty-three
years I stay in Yekooche. If I didn't listen I would have been gone long ago. (William
Joseph:2 October 2008)
Beyond practical skills, place names, and boundaries, children learned legends and stories
in the evenings as well as at potlatches (William Joseph:2 October 2008). The Elders
believe this knowledge is very important and necessary to be passed on to future
generations because it was and remains essential for their survival.
Treaty and the Land
The issue is land—all the time, I don't care where I go, Elders talk to me about land.
That's how much concern they have about the land and how it's being destroyed
(Justa Monk:24 October 2008).
Treaty, land and the erosion of community, were sensitive topics throughout the
course of my research. Almost every Elder I interviewed overtly talked about treaty,
which to me shows the importance of it to them, but also the fact that it was a piece of the
story they wanted told in some fashion. Clearly, this is a "hot button" issue between each
of the neighbouring communities. In order to do this research, I stressed at each
community meeting and to each of the Elders that my project was not about treaty or
division. This project was described explicitly as a way to bring the communities together
and celebrate a common heritage. Even still, each Elder talked with me about it. During
my interview with William Joseph he discussed treaty at length. When told this research
was only about Yeko and not about treaty and the land he responded:
'Et huwun za te, [If it's about that only then] that's nothing but ndune ntahuntidulh
k'una ne'whut'en [it seems like these people are going in the wrong direction] —
ne'whut'en et noh dusni tube huwaoodli (William Joseph:2 October 2008).

Ill

As William sees it, one cannot talk about Yeko or any part of the territory without
considering treaty. This view is holistic in that the Elders cannot separate the land from
rights because those rights are tied intrinsically to the land. As Henry Abel Joseph
pointed out:
Dogun Cho, our church chief, he used to say many times "Don't ever let this raising
vegetables and having chicken and cows, exercising where you're from [end]" and
my dad too used to comment, he used to say "how do you say this is your land that
you're gonna go to the treaty table when you don't prove it by using it?" (Henry Abel
Joseph:5 June 2008)
Overlap
The notion of territorial overlap in regards to the treaty process occurs when
neighbouring groups both claim title over the same area. Overlap is a contentious issue
throughout British Columbia with people strongly divided.56 One question that came out
repeatedly during this research was: Do people know the land? Alfred explains:
[0]n a count of this overlap business... you have to leave it. Leave it, it's no use to
talk about things like trapping, if you never set a trap in your life. What's the sense of
talking culture if you never were in a fish camp, for example, or set a net or gut a fish,
stuff like that. That's why these things have to be accurate... you all know what I'm
talking about. That's why I feel very uncomfortable for anybody in a treaty
organization, treaty team, that say 'well this is my, our keyoh [traditional territory],
my grandfather or somebody owns that place... (Alfred Joseph:5 June 2008).
On another occasion Alfred elaborated:
We don't have no... dispute over traditional territories, keyoh and overlaps. Even I
don't, even Pierre doesn't see it. You know what I mean? We use to go together in
five bands sometimes six bands, we camp out here and there. The whole, you know,
the whole Tache use to go there, 15 Mile Creek. We use to visit each other with boat,
in my time. And nobody said anything about 'oh, this part is yours or that part is
yours', nothing (Alfred Joseph:3 October 2008).

This whole issue is fraught and caused by the provincial and federal governments' desire for discrete
bounded territories, but this exceeds the bounds of this thesis.

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One distinction (connected to both treaty and overlap), which seems to be blurred by
younger generations is that marriage alliances brought access to land, but not title. During
my interview with Justa Monk he shared an example that illustrates this right:
[PJeople really have to be careful about what area they claim. They can't just claim
everybody's area now-a-days 'cause long time ago they had respect for people's
territory. Like I'm living in Burns Lake now and I don't go out hunting or fishing
when I feel like it unless somebody from that area comes with me and they're all.. .1
mean I got relatives over there and they're all saying, "Go out wherever you want to,
you know, it's just as good as yours" even though my dad is from Old Fort but I
still.. .dad always said "respect people's area, don't just barge in there and do what
you like" so that's how I was taught (Justa Monk:24 October 2008).
Justa has a certain right through his father's side but still asks for permission.
Overlap is a larger issue. As William Joseph explains, "They say now, Tl'azt'en
and Yekooche, if they want to get together it's nothing but how about Babine, Nadleh
and Fort Fraser and all them guys, and Fort St. James, what do they gonna say? That's the
big trouble with that overlap" (William Joseph:2 October 2008). The problem is through
the modern treaty process, rigid lines are required by the province of British Columbia, to
be drawn between communities. These lines are modern constructs that in some cases
have no basis in historical reality. The Elders are very much aware of this situation and
agree it needs to be addressed. William Joseph expressed many of the Elders' views
when he said:
[W]ell you see the way you're planning it now, you say the people they got to share
their own territory. The people who stay in Yekooche land, they share theirs. The
people staying Tache, they could share theirs, that's the way long time ago it used to
be. But now we all get together with Tl'azt'en, Fort St. James, Pinche, Trembleur
Lake, Babine, I don't know how that will work, that's what I'm saying. I don't know
how that treaty will work. Maybe some will start quarrelling, shooting at one another,
fighting; it's not going to be too good, that's what I'm saying. So we got to make sure
sit down with everybody, altogether, and make one good paper. And then go forward
with that (William Joseph:2 October 2008).
The Elders want to work together to solve the disputes.

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In the Title and first chapter of his book, Ted Chamberlin (2004) quotes a Gitxan
Elder, who asks some government officials: "If this is your land, where are your stories?"
The Elder proceeded to tell a story in his language [Gitxan]. Chamberlain goes on to
explain, "But what they understood was more important: how stories give meaning and
value to the places we call home; how they bring us close to the world we live in by
taking us into a world of words; how they hold us together and at the same time keep us
apart. They also understood the importance of... language, especially to those who do not
speak it" (Chamberlin 2004). Stories are what give meaning and value to the places we
call home. They legitimize our place within our surroundings. Beverly John shared the
following from a conversation with her brother, Grand Chief Ed John, after a recent visit:
[T]he best way to exercise our rights as Indigenous people is to go back to the land
and make sure we're using the land and our language and our culture as proof [that]
yea, we are Indigenous, and yes we have these rights... this is our territory where we
came from and this is our history (Beverly John:5 June 2008).
What both John and Chamberlain are illuminating is that Indigenous communities
ties to the land run deep. I hope in some small way this thesis encourages the reader to
dwell on such things, reminding them how very much Tl'azt'enne history is tied
intrinsically to the land. As William Joseph put it, '"aw dustl'us oolhghus 'ait'oh [you
cannot chew paper]" (William Joseph: 18 September 2008). Money is by no means a
replacement for their territory. By sharing a few of their stories, the Elders are affirming
this is their land and their future as well. After a Keyoh Holders' meeting I was invited to
attend, an Elder gave me a copy of the following quoted in a newsletter clipping from the
1970s:
It would be so much easier just to fold our hands and not make this fight... to say I,
one man, can do nothing. I grow afraid only when I see people thinking and acting
like this. We all know the story about the man who sat beside the trail too long, and

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then it grew over and he could never find his way again. We can never forget what
has happened, but we cannot go back nor can we just sit beside the trail (Opeteca
Hanawayin Poundmaker 1842-1886).
As a non-Indigenous person, I believe that knowledge, education, and ultimately
cooperation and open discourse, are necessary to challenge the paradigm of
indigenous/non-indigenous relations. Freire argues that a critical consciousness of the
cultural and historical roots of a people is the foundation for their cultural emancipation.
Moreover, he asserts reformers must begin with the way in which a group communicates
about its world (Freire 1970). In Freire's terminology, Indigenous peoples must name the
world for themselves, and as Graham Hingangaroa Smith argues, "Indigenous peoples
must set the agenda for change themselves" (Smith 2000:210). As a non-Indigenous
person, I think it is important to show support and acknowledge the rights of those who
were here first. Wider society needs to learn to take a back seat and walk behind or beside
Indigenous people on the road ahead. We must stop trying to lead the way and pulling
where we think they need to go. The Elders want the people to come together, and bear in
mind, the land must be protected at all cost. As Simon put it: Ndiyun k'ut 'ants'et [This
land for nothing] (stated during interview with Helen Johnnie:3 Oct 2008).
Further Study
One thing that has become obvious to me throughout this research is the degree to
which history needs to be rewritten and corrected, most significantly at the Fort St. James
Historic Park, where Father Morice is depended on highly as a source. The problem is
that historical inaccuracies are taught to Tl'azt'en members, including the Elders, and
they have been and continue to be passed down to subsequent generations. The history
Morice presents is tidy and easy. Because of the nature of his motivations and his way of

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thinking, I am inclined to believe that while his version of history is full of useful
information, much of it does not tell the authentic story, or at the very least, the whole
one. A First Nations perspective is clearly missing.
Additionally, genealogical work to document the ancestral ties between the
various communities in the region would be of benefit. An in-depth history compiled of
each of the communities (both written and oral) when combined with genealogical work
could go a long way in settling disputes and educating the people.

Conclusion
I have tried to conceptualize this thesis in terms of a journey—a metaphor that
brings us into the very heart of Dakelh life. At this juncture we must retrace our steps
before proceeding. There came a moment in the course of this research where I came to
realize everything was going to be ok, and I could finally enjoy myself. That moment
came around the time I went out on the land with the Elders. Simon John and several
others had spent the majority of the summer camped out at the lake. It was a magnificent
spot with a gorgeous view of the territory. We had planned on taking the Elders around
the area by boat as a way to help them reconnect to this place, and hopefully serve to
remind them of the past. Unfortunately, the boat had some mechanical issues which
forced us to spend the day at the camp. It was to be a blessing in disguise.
A moose had been shot that morning; I first saw its lifeless body on a tarp close to
the lake. I am not a squeamish person, so while the partially butchered animal did not
bother me, it did incite a sense of excitement as I thought of enjoying fresh game out on
the land. I was put to work chopping vegetables as Simon began making a moose-meat
stew. This was much in the way the Elders spoke of eating out there as children;

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vegetables were grown in small gardens that were tended by the family, and stored in root
cellars under cabins. Our vegetables came from Overweightea, the grocery store in town.
The Elders sat around the fire excitedly reminiscing about a place they all
remembered, but few had visited recently. I heard a fury of Dakelh and saw hand gestures
point here and there with plenty of laughter exchanged. Simon prepared the stew over the
fire, and as we all sat and ate, the Elders began to speak of this place. I was enjoying
myself; the Elders' words and our meal came together harmoniously, and that's when I
realized this was, in essence, the ideal campfire, though it wasn't until sometime later I
came to understand what that meant.
While the food hadn't come entirely from the land, it was prepared and enjoyed
on the territory by grateful hearts. This campfire had taken many hands to arrange, much
like my research. The fact that just about all those hands were there sitting around that
fire was the more rare and important thing, as was the fact that the Elders were opening
up themselves and their lives for me to record. As I listened to the stories, and to the
Elders correcting each other and corroborating to accurately preserve their oral tradition,
I realized for the first time that this was truth. While some might label these stories as
tales or merely legend, I couldn't help but feel deep within me that they were authentic.
Sitting around a fire on the territory in which this oral history was born gave it a life that
is otherwise lost. I could reach down and dip my hands in the lake that sustained
countless generations before us at that very location. I could see the mountains and the
stream that were key elements to the stories of the past. I felt a power that flowed through
the words that was ancient and deep. This work was important. To visit Merton again
from chapter one, he writes: "We must be true inside, true to ourselves, before we can

117

know a truth that is outside us" (Merton 198). I have tried to be true to myself throughout
this work, and hope it has enabled me to delve slightly below the surface. Sitting quietly
and listening to the stories unfold around me, I was struck by the true cost of that
knowledge; "the precise sacrifice of time and energy and life" that preserving it entailed
(Pollan 2007:409). One of the Elders spoke of his ancestors carrying fire with them as
they travelled. This is much like the Elders themselves, who are keepers of a vast library
of living memory amassed over a lifetime. In this way, a campfire is a place to impart
knowledge of the past to direct the future.
I want to journey back briefly to the themes I discussed in Chapter 2. To compare
the transcendental nature of this adventure on the territory to sitting in a library reading a
book, is to marvel at the multiplicity of a world that could produce two such different
methods of accomplishing the same thing: remembering the past. The two stand at the far
extreme ends of the spectrum of different ways we have to engage the world. It is easy to
get caught up in the experience. I was tempted at first to label the oral history as a nearly
perfect knowledge, the written record an equally perfect ignorance.57 However, it is not
that simple. In many cases, the oral record is incomplete or rapidly vanishing. In this
case, the written record can be used to tease a more complete picture of the past and give
more credence to the oral tradition.
While hearing the stories on the territory is not always possible, I think it is
extremely valuable every once in a while being conscious of what it took to preserve it.
To dwell on these things reminds us of the costs incurred in the two modes remembering.
The cost of the oral traditional is substantial, but is acknowledged and paid for. Today's
57

This thought came after spending two weeks reading historical documents that were highly charged and
racially denigrating. I include it here in order to illustrate my thought process and hope it is clear m the
following pages that I see written history as both highly valuable and important

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Elders spent the time listening, remembering, and verifying with others. Willie Mattess
remembers listening as a young child, "Long, long, some of those stories four evenings
while they're talking, us, we go to sleep... long stories" (Willie Mattess:26 January
2009). The written word at first seems like a bargain but fails to cover its true cost,
instead charging it to the future. While ink and paper preserve to some extent, they lose
the power, context, and engagement of orality. Currently, the oral tradition is facing
challenges in many communities. For countless generations, history was something that
took place in the stable context of a family and a culture where the full consciousness of
what was involved did not need to be explained. It was stored away in a set of rituals,
habits and protocols and is the reason it survives. As Levi-Strauss suggests:
I think there are some things we have lost, and we should try perhaps to regain them,
because I am not sure that in the kind of world in which we are living and with the
kind of scientific thinking we are bound to follow, we can regain these things exactly
as if they had never been lost; but we can try to become aware of their existence and
their importance (Levi-Strauss 277).
I documented this history at the request of the Elders with the hopes that it would assist in
bringing back the oral tradition, and foster a curiosity amongst the youth to seek out the
context of what has been recorded.
However we choose to remember, whether we preserve the past in our memories
or on pieces of paper, there is value in both. The crucial thing is keeping the stories alive.
As Simon John recalled:
The first time I heard my dad talk about it, he always give me the same smart remark,
'You never asked that's how come I don't talk to you about these things.' People
need to ask questions, they're right. Then they'll know what's on our mind (Simon
JohnTnterview With Leona Shaw March 13 2008).
So often the Elders said they wished they asked more questions when they were younger.
Paul Wright, a Begade Shuhtagot'ine Elder, said "to keep our culture alive is just like

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saying thank you to our grandfathers..." (quoted in Kulchyski: 13). I grew up not really
having grandparents, so I am thankful to be a part of this work. I hope it will serve
Tl'azt'en Nation and specifically the Elders and community members who have been so
gracious with me. In many ways the story here is incomplete. Time and space do not
allow me to include everything. As is the nature of working with Elders, so much more
information came out in extensive discussions of their way of life and technology. This
wealth of information will remain in the community to be used in the future. As Henry
indicated:
[T]he Elders that spoke to us before their words are still alive. They didn't tell us that
because they were mad at us, they told us that because they loved us and they want to
see the best for our children's future. And this is the way about going about doing
it... we need [to] make a future for our children (Henry Abel Joseph:5 June 2008).
This is why this work has been done. It is Simon's and the Elders' hope that this project
will teach in some respect their language, their culture, and their territory so that today's
youth will one day pass it on to future generations. Leroy Little Bear stated, "The
function of Aboriginal values and customs is to maintain the relationships that hold
creation together. If creation manifests itself in terms of cyclical patterns and repetitions,
then the maintenance and renewal of those patterns is all-important" (Little Bear
2000:81). In this sense this project goes beyond mere preservation and is more about
cultural continuity. It is not about going back to a point frozen in time, but more about an
approach or a way of thinking. It is about maintaining the ways of the Elders, and
knowing who we are and where we come from. Pierre's grandfather knew the way
without even a blaze. The Elders have left us with their words so that we may follow in
their footsteps; indeed, as Pierre's grandfather used to tell him, "yun gha nuts 'udilh dqja"
[we walk according to what we see on the ground] (Pierre John:2 October 2008).

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Snachailya [I am thankful to you for what you have provided]

121

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Appendix 1: Interviews
(in chronological order)
Yekooche Information Session: 5 June 2008
Tl'azt'en Information Session: 26 June 2008
Elders' Camp: 18 September 2008
Chris Gall
Beverly John
Margaret Duncan
Thomas Johnnie
William Joseph
Celestine Thomas
Gloria Johnnie
Gordon John
Ralph Joseph
Chris Joseph
Waylon Joseph
Hank Joseph
Alfred Joseph
Terry Furlong
Pierre John
Pierre John: 2 October 2008
William Joseph: 2 October 2008
Alfred Joseph: 3 October 2008
Helen Johnnie: 3 October 2008
Sophie Monk: 3 October 2008
Justa Monk: 24 October 2008
Willie Mattess: 26 January 2009
Catherine Morris: 26 January 2009

Simon John
Helen Johnnie
John Jullian
Darcy Solonas
Ceecee Shelke
Margaret Joseph
Lisa Joseph

Appendix 2: Interview Questions
Personal
What is your full name?
When were you born?
Where did you grow up?
Yeko
What do you know about the name of Yeko?
Are there stories about its history or origins?
Have these stories undergone any changes?
Was your family living in this area?
How did they come to live there?
Who decided your family would move?
Could you tell me some of the reasons your family had to move?
What stories have come down to you from your parents and grandparents about Yeko?
Life on the Territory
What is your earliest memory of Yeko?
What foods did you eat on a typical day?
In what ways did you survive off the land?
What transportation did you use?
What did you do for relaxation (storytelling, music etc.)?
What do you know about the story of Adam and Rosa?
What haven't we talked about that you'd like to talk about in the time we have left?

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