Elders

Julie is known for her calm, gentle presence, her big heart and knowledge of culture and protocol. As she says: “Leave footprints of kindness on each step of your journey.”

She is from the Jimmie clan at Squiala First Nation, one of ten children of Alexander Dan Jimmie and Patricia Joan Herrling. Her grandfather on her father’s side was Samuel Jimmie and her grandmother was Theresa Jimmie. Her grandparents on her mother’s side were Oscar Herrling and Minnie Johnson. Julie resides on the Aitzchiltz First Nation.

Julie is most proud of being a mother to her own two children as well as her sister’s daughter. She also fostered another 67 children over the years. “My house on the reserve was known as a kind of safe house for a lot of kids,” says Julie. “Many of the kids were from the streets and had drug problems.” Julie also has four granddaughters, five great grandsons, one great granddaughter and another one on the way.

Julie has worked in the court systems with alternative measures, and she has led circles and mediations. She also works with cedar, making baskets and roses and hats, as well as weaving, jewelry making and baking. She has been with the Agency as an Elder since the beginning, in the early 90s. She was known as the junior Elder back then.

Julie says her greatest learnings have had to do with culture. “It has to run through our bloodline, the teachings and protocols have to be carried on,” says Julie. She belongs to the Squiala Big House.

Julie wants staff and families to know that the Elders are always close by and here for them. Julie ‘s advice to social workers is to not look down on the families they work with, but to meet them at the same level and to use simple, non-jargony language.

Amy has always been involved in trying to make things better for Indigenous people. She wanted to make things better for her kids than it was for her and her parents. “I’m still trying to make a difference. Sometimes I think I’m fighting a losing battle, says Amy, who acknowledges there is still much more to do.

Amy says a devastating impact of residential schools was that survivors learned to be emotionally disconnected. “In residential school we were taught not to feel, not to talk and not to cry,” says Amy. For many years, Amy has worked in the justice system and is now an Elder at the federal penitentiary for women in Abbotsford. Of the women she works with, she says they are also victims of the residential schools and the legacy of addiction and abuse. “They don’t know how to handle their emotions,” says Amy, noting that Indigenous people did not have jails pre-contact. Amy is passionate about reforming the justice system and the paternalistic approach of colonialism. She is involved in a project with the agency to establish an alternative justice system for Indigenous people.

Amy quit school at age 15 and took vocational training, eventually working for the provincial health department. She married and had five children; three sons and two daughters. Three of Amy’s sons passed away, and Amy believes it is because they were unable to share their issues and they self-medicated. Amy feels the Longhouse people with the drumming and singing is what got her through it. Amy has 13 grandchildren. She says she didn’t really get in touch with her culture and spirituality until she was 50 years old, when she was initiated into the Longhouse.

It was Amy’s desire and passion to make things better for Indigenous Amy says she knows firsthand that there is strength in families and that as an agency we need to trust that.

Rosemary Trehearne always tries to be positive. “To me it’s much easier than being negative. Being negative takes a lot of energy and creates more stress,” says Rosemary. “It’s also very important to give back of yourself in life. You shouldn’t do it to receive compliments or credit, it should be private and done with a good heart.”

Rosemary feels strongly about urging people to reach out when they need help and believes the Agency is very good at helping people. “Please don’t suffer by yourself, there are people who want to help,” says Rosemary. “In my healing path I reached out to many different people to help me with my trauma.” She also believes in the importance of culture. “Culture isn’t just about drums and beads and pow wows, it’s about how we live, it’s about values that we hold in high regard, such as respect, honesty, our spirituality and so much more,” says Rosemary.

“We have lots of ‘Elders,’ but a respected Elder means the experiences you go through is what you’ll share. You don’t have to be perfect, none of us are. It’s the willingness to share what you’ve gone through. If we learn from our mistakes, we’re able to do things in a better way. It’s not to have led a perfect life, it’s through our mistakes and learning, that we become an Elder,” says Rosemary.

Rosemary has a strong interest in the justice system and how it treats Indigenous people. She was the first Indigenous court worker in BC and spent over twenty years in different positions in Aboriginal Justice. She is still very passionate about the issue and is currently involved with a project the agency is working on to improve family justice for Indigenous people. “I raise my hands high to the staff and caregivers for their dedication. Your hearts are in a good place and we’re very grateful to all of you.”

Louise never imagined after retiring as a social worker from Xyólheméylh seven years ago that she would return as an Elder, but that’s what happened and she’s enjoying her new role. “I’m now standing on the outside looking in and sometimes able to see what the social workers and parents can’t see. It’s a nice role,” says Louise. “I’m a happy Elder.”

Louise, whose traditional name is Masquaelta, is from the Sumas First Nation and the daughter of Dr. Ray Silver and Irene Silver. Her grandparents on her father’s side were Ambrose and Jean Silver, and on her mother’s side, Sol and Louisa Miller. She is the eldest of 12 children.

Louise worked with Xyólheméylh for twenty years as a social worker and has seen a lot of changes in the agency since the beginning when there were only seven staff working out of a basement of a house on Stó:lō grounds. Louise believes that Xyólheméylh can work in a good way by allowing parents and children to have a voice and to nurture culture. “I believe children in care should be given the opportunity to find out who they are, their roots and where they belong.”

One of Louise’s greatest learnings was learning she was ok, as a human being, as a woman, mother, and grandmother. “It took me a long time to love myself,” says Louise. Another big learning has been the

importance of relationships with other women. She says since her mother died when Louise was in her early 30s, the creator brought women into her life to go through different stages in her life. “I met women I needed at the time to carry on with my growth and recovery.”

Laurie (Laureen) Backman is a member of the Soowahlie First Nation and lives off reserve in Yarrow, BC. She is the eldest of eight children of Bill Commodore from Soowahlie and Doris Sepass from Skowkale First Nations. Her grandparents are Andy and Theresa Commodore and David and Rita Sepass.

Like so many First Nations people of her generation, her parents and grandparents were taken away from their families and put in residential schools, robbed of their culture and language. So, it wasn’t until Laurie was in her 20s that she began learning and practicing her culture. “I’m still learning,” says Laurie. “Learning never stops.”

Laurie has worked in the health field for 34 years starting at Area Council to Stó:lō Nation and today with Soowahlie Health. Laurie says her greatest learning was discovering her culture. “Our First Nation Culture is a beautiful thing to experience, the songs, the drums, the prayers, the love for mother earth and everything that lives around us. To learn to live with respect, love and positive thoughts help us to live a positive life,” says Laurie.

“I believe an Elder is someone who can share personal life experiences, some culture, be truthful, share stories and give some positive feedback. I believe I can do this with an open heart and open mind. I enjoy being an Elder, I enjoy being on the board with other respected Elders. We all have something to share. I believe the agency is going in the right direction with culture, tradition and feedback from the Elders. Have compassion with the people you work with. Work together to find solutions for the family. Not all families are the same, they are all different,” says Laurie.

Darlene Tommy believes that love saved her from being broken by the residential school system. Specifically the love of her mother. “I was fortunate to have a mom who loved me,” says Darlene. “I would like all our children to have the same love that my mom gave me.”

Darlene is a member of the Skwah First Nation, but grew up at Matsqui with her mother until she was seven years old, when she was then taken to St. Mary’s Residential School in Mission. She spent the next nine and half years at the school. Despite the cruel conditions at residential school, Darlene was a natural student and excelled academically, but was unable to continue to post-secondary because of the inferior nature of the education there. In fact, she intends to go back to university and get a degree in psychology.

I feel like the residential school robbed me of continuing my education. I’ll be 80 by the time I get a degree,” says Darlene. “I would like to help children because our children have had quite challenging lives from probably day one.”

After graduating high school, Darlene went to California as she had an aunt who lived there. Darlene lived there for 40 years. Darlene has one child who lives in California with two grandchildren. Because of COVID she hasn’t seen them in four years, but hopes to go soon.

Because she lived in California for so long, and residential school before that, Darlene was not immersed in the Stó:lō culture. She says she didn’t want to be because residential school had made her ashamed of her culture and heritage. “I just wanted to get away from all of it, that’s why I left, I wanted to be a different person,” she says. “Wherever I went, people thought I was from there. I passed as Mexican, Hawaiian, Italian, and I never said I was First Nations because I didn’t want to be,” says Darlene.

Later in life she had a neighbour who suggested she read a book about the Trail of Tears, about the Cherokee First Nation being forced off their ancestral lands in the 1830s. “I read it and I couldn’t believe how our people were treated. It helped me to turn around and be proud of who I am in spite of everything that had happened in my life,” says Darlene.

Darlene returned to Stó:lō territory and worked as administrative support for the Stó:lō First Nations Chiefs, retiring eventually in 2014. “I learned a lot about my culture after being away for so long,” says Darlene. Her lifelong love of learning also kicked in when she retired. Since then, she’s been taking classes and reading books about mental health. “I wanted to understand why people would go into a situation like residential schools and be so cruel to children. To me it was like they must have mental problems … it helped me to understand people, and my own people.”

“I’m on this path …. I have this urge inside me that I should help, that’s why I signed up to be an elder with Xyólheméylh,” says Darlene.

Elder Sidney Douglas is from the Cheam First Nation, where he still lives. His parents had 20 children and he was somewhere in the middle. When he was around seven years he was taken from his big family to residential school, where many of his siblings were taken. He was the last of his family to experience residential school.

Fortunately, his parents were strong on culture. “I was always growing up with the teaching of don’t forget who your relatives are. Because ceremonies were banned and started coming back in the ‘70s, I was able to grow up with a lot of that.”

Sidney was a carpenter apprentice and went on to become a heavy equipment operator and worked in construction for most of his life. He was also on Cheam council for 14 years and Chief for eight years. Until recently he was a spiritual and cultural advisor for archeologists working on the Trans Mountain pipeline. He has two daughters and one son who passed away. He has five grandsons, one granddaughter, one great grand daughter and two great grandsons.

Sidney is a carver and teaches youth to carve soapstone. He is also working on paddles for the war canoe races. Another one of Sidney’s passions is sports. He coached soccer, lacrosse and baseball for many years and is involved with Xyólheméylh’s Lacrosse camp for youth. In addition to carving and sports, Sidney is also involved in the court systems and family circles. “I like to see families function in a good way,” says Sidney. Sidney’s advice for social workers is to try and understand the cultural ways. “We had our own ways,” says Sidney. “Often aunts and uncles were the teachers.”

Sheree Epp is the granddaughter of the late Dorothy and Duncan Wealick of Tzeachten First Nation. Her paternal grandparents are the late Annie and Lloyd Robinson who were European. Her parents are Georgina Pall and the late Lorne Robinson. She also acknowledges the late Ivan Pall, her stepdad of many years.

Sheree Epp is a member of Tzeachten First Nation. She and her husband, Bruce, raised their four sons, Nicholas, Dylan, Tyler and Derek from their home on Tzeachten First Nation. Sheree and Bruce have seven grandkids (and one more on his way) that fill their hearts with so much love and joy. “I have always felt blessed that the creator honoured me with four sons. I consider being a mom and gramma my most important and favourite roll in my journey of life,” says Sheree.

Being an Indigenous person has not always been an easy journey for Sheree. She grew up ashamed of being an “Indian.” Her maternal grandparents were both residential school survivors. The generational traumas were passed to their children and continued to affect the lives of their grandchildren. While she was growing up, the subject of residential school was never talked about. The Wealick family was not exposed to Aboriginal culture. However, she believes the family members were fortunate to be encouraged to pursue higher education. Many have attended university and have obtained a variety of degrees.

Sheree was in her early 30s before she began her journey to embrace her Indigenous roots. As she became aware of who she was as an Aboriginal woman, she had a strong pull to the culture and traditions of her people. Learning where she came from gave her a sense of belonging she had never known. As she became enlightened in her awareness of Aboriginal culture and history it became very important for her to ensure her sons grew up with a proud feeling of being Indigenous. As a result, her identical twins both have careers working with Stó:lō people. Tyler Epp is a Director of Operations with Xyólheméylh and Derek Epp is the Chief of Tzeachten First Nation.

At the age of 45 Sheree attended the University of the Fraser Valley where she obtained a Bachelor of Social Work with a focus on child protection. She also completed a Certificate in Stó:lō Nation Studies. Her Indigenous knowledge journey began at this time. She was hungry to learn about her historical roots. “There were many classes I was unable to hold back my tears as I learned the historical facts that inflicted so much trauma and pain on Aboriginal peoples,” says Sheree. Sheree felt working with Stó:lō Nation communities was where she would make the biggest impact and she began her career as a social worker with Xyólheméylh.

During twenty years of social work she left Xyólheméylh for a period of time. She managed a group home for Aboriginal youth who came from criminal backgrounds. She then enjoyed a management position with the social work department at Katzie First Nation for several years. Being asked to teach at the University of the Fraser Valley was one of her personal best achievements. She felt honoured to teach a Stó:lō First Nation Study course for several semesters. When she was invited to teach a 300-level social work course she successfully developed a new text book for the students which was focused on Aboriginal people.

When she was 63 years old the love of her life was diagnosed with a debilitating disease. She choose early retirement to be at home to care for him. Two years later she was invited to join the Xyólheméylh Elders Advisory and enthusiastically embraced her new roll as an Elder advisor. She looks forward to many more years in this supportive roll. She feels privileged to walk along side Xyólheméylh staff, the Stó:lō Nation communities and those struggling in their own journeys.

When she is not helping out at Xyólheméylh she could be found doing Tzeachten First Nation volunteer work. Or she could be hanging out with her family. Her gramma roll is the highlight of her life. She values her family and enjoys their gatherings, celebrations, and just being together.

Travelling is one of her passions. She feels blessed to have visited many places around the world. Her future plans include taking her husband on as many vacations as he can manage for as long as possible. Vacationing with her adult children and grandkids are included in her retirement agenda. Retirement for her also includes health and fitness and self-care.

“I still have much to learn and much to give. Participating in the Xyólheméylh Elders Advisory and various Tzeachten First Nation committee’s is a fantastic opportunity to continue my journey of giving and learning in the social work field,” says Sheree.

For Violet, family is the most important thing in life. “Culture is a way of living, and our way of living was communal and all about family,” says Violet. “Our mother taught us to respect and take care of one another.”

Violet George belongs to the Tzeachten First Nation but has lived on the Skwah First Nation since 1972. Her parents were Francis and Nelly Roberts and she was one of 13 children. Violet has two daughters with her late husband Gerald who she was married to for 52 years. She also has, one granddaughter and numerous nieces and nephews.

Violet grew up with her grandmother who spoke to her in Halq’emeylem, then her aunt after her grandmother passed. That was how she learned how to cook, eventually becoming a certified chef. She still enjoys cooking, especially canning and making jams.

Even though Violet grew up with family and was fortunate to not be taken away to residential schools, she considers herself and her family survivors because both her parents were forced to attend the schools. She says residential schools made her father very strict and that her mother “could never be who she was meant to be.”

For Violet, Church was an important part of her life growing up and still is. “That’s how we survived, through our faith. I know a lot of people don’t want to have anything to do with the Church, but I believe in the power of prayer, and am strong in our faith, even after everything,” says Violet.

She has been with the Xyólheméylh since the beginning, first as a board member and now as an Elder for the last 14 years. “I was very honoured to become an Elder with Xyólheméylh,” says Violet. She enjoys the company of the other Elders on the Advisory Group and looks forward to hearing their stories. She also enjoys being able to provide direction to the social workers. “The families are still struggling,” says Violet. “We’re there to support them.”

Violet’s advice to staff is that they should try to understand the culture, to find out where the families are coming from and appreciate the way of rich life that Indigenous people had prior to colonization.

When Maria was a child she had a reoccuring dream that she was being chased on horseback by “wild Indians.” Back then, she didn’t know she was Indigenous, but now that she knows, the dream makes sense symbolically.

Like so many Indigenous people, her parents and grandparents were robbed of their heritage in residential schools and were fearful of discrimination, so they didn’t practice their culture.

Like the dream she had as a child however, Maria’s Indigeous background would eventually catch up to her in her teens when one of her aunts discovered the family’s Indigenous roots.

Maria hasn’t looked back since, immersing herself in the culture. Her great grandmother was from the Batchewana First Nation in Ontario and her great grandfather was French and Metis. Maria is French, Cree and Ojibeway on her father’s side and Swedish Sami on her mother’s side. The Sami are Sweden’s Indigenous people and known as Reindeer Herders.

Since finding out about her Indigenous roots in her teens, Maria has immersed herself in learning about her culture. “When I found out it was one of those ah ah moments,” says Maria. Her Indigenous name, Waabigekek Ikwe, means White Hawk Woman

Maria loves being an Elder and feels that everything she has done in the fields of wellness - body, mind and spirit, has come together to prepare her to be an Elder.

Allan is a member of the Heiltsuk First Nation from Waglisla, BC where he was raised learning about his culture, and learning about plant medicine from his mother. “Smudging was a ritual that was introduced to me at a very young age to protect and prevent spirits from latching on to us children,” says Allan. That connection to his culture came to an abrupt end when he was 13 years old was sent to Port Alberni Residential School.

He was determined to attend University and worked hard to be accepted into the University of British Columbia where he acquired a BA in Sociology, a BSW in Policy and Programs and a Masters in Social work in Community Development. It wasn’t until he graduated and went to Ottawa that he was exposed to Indigenous spirituality again.

He was the Head of the Native Offender Program with Correctional Services Canada and was instrumental in drafting the first Directive to allow Aboriginal Inmates in all federal institutions in Canada to use traditional methods and materials.

“It was during this process that my spiritual journey began in 1985,” says Allan. He eventually went on to be a PhD candidate at the University of Victoria, with an interest in studying Aboriginal Governance from the perspective of Indigenous teachings where traditional laws are entrenched in the oral teachings and Indigenous languages.

“I am spiritually inclined and a strong supporter of traditional ceremonies and rituals,” says Allan. He participated in sweat lodge ceremonies, pipe ceremonies and talking circles. In 2003 he completed a four-year Sundancer ceremony with Dave Blacksmith in Winnipeg, Manitoba. “My most rewarding experience was as a helper for Dave when he performed his healing ceremony on individuals infected by cancer, which spanned over four years,” says Allan.

Allan is married to Shirley who is of Gitxsan ancestry and they have three children, one who is adopted from the Cree Nation in Saddle Lake, Alberta. He likes being an Elder because he enjoys the process of ensuring the best care and safety of children and families. His advice for staff is to be empathetic and understanding to the needs of the Indigenous child, youth and family. He also believes that culture is crucial. “Having a sense of abandonment and not belonging is a terrible burden to have to bear, so knowing who you are and where you are from is very important,” says Allan.

“I approach my role with an open heart and open mind and share my love and caring with everyone that is involved with every phase of the child welfare process,” says Allan.

Before Cynthia was taken from her mother at the age of six during the ‘60s Scoop, she remembers sitting on a bridge over a river with her mother on the Long Plain First Nation in Manitoba. They were swinging their feet and her mother’s slipper fell into the river. “We watched the river take it and it was one of the last memories I had of my mother,” says Cynthia.

When she arrived at the farm owned by a Dutch family where she was to live until she aged out of care, she noticed a pile of shoes on the porch. In that pile of shoes was her mother’s slipper. “When I told him that was my Mom’s slipper, he said he saw it floating down the river and thought it was really important so he scooped it up. It was an important sign because my foster dad and I had a close relationship, we were very close until he left us for the spirit world,” says Desta.

That story foretells the spiritual journey Cynthia was about to take. The Creator had a purpose for her, she paid attention to the signs and followed her purpose in life. Also, Cynthia’s spirit name is Giwedin-kwe, which means North Star Woman. Like the North Star, she is like a stable presence in the world guiding others to safety and healing.

From the Anishnaabe and Dakota First Nations in Manitoba, Cynthia moved to BC in her twenties and began exploring Indigenous spirituality under the guidance of important teachers and mentors, including Sundance Chief Ruben George. She is now an Elder with Circle 5 and Xyolhemeylh, leads Sundance ceremonies, Vision Quests, helps men at a treatment facility, carries out end of life ceremonies, and is a pipe carrier. She is also the mother of six, grandmother to ten children and foster grandmother to two 16 year olds. She laughs that the number rises to seven foster youth on the weekends.

“Because I’m ceremonial I feel like the ancestors put me on this path because of where I’ve been and how I’ve had to heal on my journey to get where I am today. I love working with families, I love working with the youth, I love introducing our families and youth into our culture and ceremony. To me that’s important for their spirit,” says Cynthia.

Cynthia’s advice for social workers is to take care of themselves. “The work the staff do is very important, they’re working for the people and the creator and it’s a must to take care of yourself,” says Cynthia. She recommends smudging and drinking lots of water, especially during full moons. “The gravitational pull of grandmother moon is so strong, she’s pulling water from our bodies, so drink lots of water.” Cynthia has a documentary she did with the Pacific Association of First Nations Women called Water is Life. You can see the video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32VQ44fbr6k.

“It’s a beautiful way of life, the creator has put us in the work for a reason. I’m very grateful for the path that I have and grateful to the people I come across on this path,” says Cynthia.

Desta made a decision a long time ago to look on the bright side of life. She says she didn’t want to be one of those old people who “got sour and crabby.” Looking at the bright side of life is a theme she explores in her creative writing which has won awards and a quality she brings to Xyólheméylh as an Elder. In her writing, she has explored the power and sweetness of friendship, the circular nature of life, the slowness of life in Haida Gwaii where she lived for a time, and the foibles of being human. “I’m a life student,” says Desta, who is proud of being sober for 35 years.

Desta is from the Tl’etinqox-t’in First Nation First Nation (formerly known as the Anaham First Nation) from the Cariboo region in BC. She has lived in Stó:lō territory since 1985 where she says she has been “warmly welcomed by the Stó:lō people”

Desta has a diploma in criminal justice and worked for Xyólheméylh for approximately 10 years a family outreach worker in Langley and Chilliwack and prior to that she worked in community development in various on and off reserve communities in BC. She is the mother of three children, grandmother to seven grandchildren and four great grandchildren.

Desta’s mother was a residential school survivor from St. Josephs at Williams Lake and she didn’t want her children to face the same fate during the 60s Scoop, so Desta wasn’t exposed to her Indigenous culture. “She didn’t want us to identify as Indigenous. In fact, she told me I was Spanish,” says Desta.

It wasn’t until 1985 when her mother moved to Chilliwack and got her Indian status that her mother and Desta herself started immersing themselves in their Indigenous heritage. “It was like watching a person wake up,” Desta says of her mother. “It was a cultural and spiritual awakening.” It was then that Desta began to see the richness, beauty and texture of the culture.

Desta loves the strength-based model that Xyólheméylh uses, with a focus on seeing the strength in families. She also likes that Xyólheméylh is consulting with Elders and using traditional circles for healing. She is particularly interested in working with young parents, having had twins herself at the age of 17 years. “It was a hard time, a very lonely time,” says Desta.

She also believes her strength is working with the urban Indigenous populations in Stó:lō territory, 80 per cent of whom are from communities across Canada. She believes that Indigenous cultures can learn from each other and use the good teachings from other First Nations. “To me, culture is your real identity, pride in who you are, it gives us self-esteem.”

I love the strength-based model that Xyólheméylh uses, and that the agency consults with Elders. I am particularly interested in working with young parents. Having had twins myself at 17, I know how lonely and difficult it can be.

Leo was born in 1941 to Red River Métis “Michif” parents in Manitoba. He was one of seven children. “I spent my growing years learning my culture and the importance of family,” says Leo. “Family used to take care of family. I spent a lot of time with a variety of relatives until I was five years of age.”

Leo and an older brother were then placed in a residential school called St. Joseph Vocational School in Winnipeg. “My experiences were those of a six-year-old,” says Leo. “I have a lot of memories of it, good and bad, but the bad memories I avoid,” says Leo. The bad memories were mostly of the nuns, not the priests. “The nuns all seemed to carry big straps,” says Leo.

His good memories include a racetrack across the street which he could see from the third floor of the dormitory where he slept. He could see the track from his window and he remembers cheering for a horse called Blue Boy. His older brother’s experience was not as mixed. A few years ago he and his older brother took a trip to Mexico where they discussed their experiences. “What he described was horrendous,” says Leo.

Leo was reunited with his family briefly, then separated again and was a ward of the state from 1951 to 1961 and didn’t see his siblings for the next ten years. When he was ready for high school, he was given the choice of going to a high school in Winnipeg or going to work on a farm run by the Catholic monks. He chose high school but was eventually kicked out and worked at a variety of jobs before going to barber school.

He eventually moved on to be a hairdresser for women and travelled to Paris and London to study. In 1979, Leo moved to British Columbia. He says it was a combination of running from something and running to something. He wanted a fresh start. After 35 years in the hair industry, Leo began a new career in social services. He started studying in a number of programs that specialized in working with youth, being a life coach, and family therapy and went on to work with Xyólheméylh as well as VACFSS, FAFP and various MCFD programs.

Leo retired in 2020 but still wanted to be involved with the agency. “I still have the passion to contribute my time to work with families,” said Leo. “I’ve seen a great deal of changes in the agency,” says Leo. “I’m glad to see they’re bringing more culture into the agency.”

Greg Poitras is passionate about helping people get their feet on the ground and to be proud of themselves. “We have to love ourselves first, the heart must be open to you as a person so it can open itself up to others,” says Greg.

Greg was one of the Elders for the Xyólheméylh Men’s Wellness Group and he talks about one man that he helped through mentoring. When Greg met him the man was struggling, he was separated from his family with only short visiting privileges to his children. He’s now back with his wife and children. “That is my purpose, to bring people along, to sit with them, hug them and make them look in the mirror every morning and say ‘I love you.’ We have a bond that will be around for a long time,” says Greg
Greg’s father was Métis from Lebret, Saskatchewan and his mother was Norwegian. He was actually born in an Indian residential school with nuns delivering him because there was a snowstorm, and they couldn’t make it to the hospital in Regina.

Greg grew up in a family of four kids, with strong values, respect for Elders and a strong sense of community. He had many aunts, uncles and cousins, one of whom was the late Gil Poitras who was a beloved Elder with Xyólheméylh. Unlike Gil, he didn’t grow up learning to smudge, but he grew up jigging.

“When I was young, I never walked anywhere, I jigged,” says Greg. “I was always around music. My father could speak English, French, Cree and Mitchif, but he never taught me those languages because back in those days, we were the dirt under people’s shoes,” says Greg. The family eventually moved to BC in 1955 which is where Greg grew up. He says there was less discrimination in BC. “The racism didn’t go away, but it wasn’t in your face all day, every day.”

Greg loves to laugh and sees humour as the best medicine. “I like to be transparent, I like to believe I’m a better healer than I am a hurter,” says Greg. He also sees himself as a problem solver, which is reflected in how he spent his working life.

He was a sheet metal worker by trade until he had an accident, falling 32 feet. He retrained as a safety and security officer and worked with the federal government on the Canadian coast guard, western region. He was flying 175,000 air miles a year and jokes that he was on a first name basis with many airport workers across Canada. He worked on the waterfront for many years before returning to sheet metal as a foreman. He was also an organizer with the Louis Riel Métis Society.

Greg has been married to Barb for 52 years, with one son and three daughters, eight grandkids and one great grand kid. “We are very blessed. They all live locally. I’m very fortunate. My strongest values that were instilled in me that I’ve instilled in my kids is that it’s about family, respect for Elders, and to be polite. I have strong sense of community,” says Greg.
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When Elaine’s mother Mary Malloway would take her to meetings of the Xyólheméylh and Qwi:qwelstom Elders, little did she know that Mary was preparing for her to take over her role as an esteemed Elder in the Stó:lō community. Mary passed away in 2023 and that is exactly what has happened. Elaine is the Hereditary Chief of the Yeqwyeqwi:ws First Nation, and the oldest of eight children of Mary and Frank Malloway. Her son, Terry Horne, is currently Chief.

Elaine was fortunate to grow up with a strong sense of culture, family, the Longhouse traditions, and canoe races. Between her work as Hereditary Chief, her work as an Elder and her cultural work, Elaine is very busy, but she says the work is very rewarding. “It’s hard to believe I’m 68,” says Elaine. “I still feel young.”

Elaine worked with Xyólheméylh as an administrative supervisor and Northwest Indian College in Washington State. She moved back to the lower mainland to be closer to her aging parents and worked at Seabird College and University of the Fraser Valley in the Indigenous Student Centre. Elaine is married to Tom George and together they have a blended family of seven children.

Elaine says it took her a long time to develop self-esteem, partly because of growing up with prejudice against Indigenous people. But she eventually learned to have confidence after a successful career in the education system. “It made me realize I’m a good worker, people value me and I needed to accept that people believe in me. It’s an honour that people believe in me.”

Elaine’s advice to social workers is to understand Indigenous ways and to ask the Elders questions. She says, “There are no crazy questions, you are not going to learn if you don’t ask.”