Culture camp on Sask. First Nation gives youth rare opportunity to learn land-based skills - Action News
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Culture camp on Sask. First Nation gives youth rare opportunity to learn land-based skills

Beardy's and Okemasis' Cree Nation in Saskatchewan held a week-long traditional culture camp on its reserve north of Saskatoon this week, a rare opportunity to learn traditional land-based skills.

Moose carving, traditional games taught at Beardy's and Okemasis' Cree Nation

Hayden Blackbird, 13, is one of dozens of youth members of the Beardy's and Okemasis' Cree Nation in Saskatchewan who took part in a culture camp this week. Hayden learned how to butcher a freshly shot moose. (Guy Quenneville/CBC)

"This is awesome," Ryan Caron said. "This is really good."

Caron, 35, is a member of Beardy's and Okemasis' Cree Nation, a First Nation locatednext to the small town of Duck Lake, Sask., about 85kilometres north of Saskatoon.

On Thursday, Caron was one of severalorganizers who watched as about a dozen youth from the First Nation enjoyeda rare opportunity to learn traditional land-based skills everything from creating medicine bags to working collaboratively with their families to erecta teepee.

Caron's voice flooded with emotion shortlyafter13-year-old Hayden Blackbird and hunter Conway Katcheech clasped hands.

Katcheech was guiding Hayden as the teen took his turn slicing off a section of moose leg. Katcheech had shotthe approximately 700-pound animalearly that morningin a prized spot onthe North Saskatchewan River near Fort Carlton.

"Never cut towards yourself, always away," Katcheech instructed, going on to talk about the signs of bad meat: a nasty smell and a lack of fat, none of which were in evidence on Thursday.

This was Hayden's first time butchering a moose. Afterward, hesaid the experience had boosted his confidence.

"I'm just really proud of myself that I can do that kind of stuff," he said.

Jordan's Principle in action

Caronworks for the First Nation'sWillow Cree Health Servicesas a parent aide, helping to provide learning opportunities rooted in what's known as"Jordan's Principle."

Jordan River Anderson was ayoung boy from Norway House Cree Nation in Manitoba who was born with several disabilities. Hedied in hospital in 2005 at the age of five after various levels of government disagreed for yearsoverwho should pay for his specialized care.

Jordan's death galvanized a movement striving to ensure that Indigenous children receive the same level of care and education as their non-Indigenouscounterparts. In 2007, the House of Commonspassed Jordan's Principle, which is a legal obligation, to ensure that the needs of a First Nations child requiring a government service take precedence over jurisdictional issues around which level of government pays for it.

In 2016, the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal found the federal government was being discriminatory in how it implemented the principle, and the tribunal has been called upon to issue non-compliance and other orders.

Today the federal government helps fund a wide a variety of Jordan's Principle activities and projects every year, including this week's culture camp at Beardy's and Okemasis' Cree Nation.The lessons there were meant to foster team-building skills and a sense of kinship within families, who could choose to sleep overnight in a teepee.

It was also a way to pass on knowledge from one generation to the next.

Ryan Caron, a member of Beardy's and Okemasis' Cree Nation, works as a parent aide at Willow Cree Health Services and helped to organize the camp. (Guy Quenneville/CBC)

Caronsays that after living in the city for years, he didn't know much about his own culture.It was his children's burgeoning interest in things such as dance that got him thinking about the need to preserve traditions.

"Gotta learn for them," he said of his own self-education in recent years.

The camp took place in a large, grassy field owned by the family of Hal Cameron, a cultural resource support worker for Willow Cree Health Services whohelped co-organize the event.

"We really wanted to emphasize the beauty and acknowledge our land here,"Cameronsaid. "There's some people who live five minutes from here, and they were in awe that we had this kind of landscape behind us."

It's the first time in three years a camp like this has taken place locally, in part due to COVID-19, he says.

Families set up their own teepees on the grassy field where the camp took place. (Guy Quenneville/CBC)

Janelle Sutherland, Cameron's fellow organizer and a co-ordinator for the federal Community Action Program for Children, was also key to thecamp's operation.

"Each gender had a part to make sure the camp ran smoothly," she said of thecollaborative nature of traditional camp life.

Saskatoon berries picked at the camp. (Guy Quenneville/CBC)

Sutherland, who picked berries and distributed ice cubes so attendees could cool off under the blazing sun, says she felt humbled to be able to freely practise her culture, considering the old, federally imposed pass system that once restricted band members' movements off the reserve.

"This is my homeland, and it feels really good to be sharing it with all the youth because they are the ones who are going to be carrying on all these traditions," she said.

Janelle Sutherland, left, and Kristen Schott stand by the central campfire. (Guy Quenneville/CBC)

Food security instructor Jennifer Cameron was on hand to teach the kids how to cut and preparestrips of dry meat from the moose shot and skinned by Katcheech.

She clearly relished the opportunity to pass on what she'd been taught by an elder from another First Nation.

"I have some students that are 11 who make it regularly now," Cameronsaid.

'Abreak from the reality of the past'

One of the teepees at the site was reserved for the older mentors helping to teach classes at the camp.

Leo Gamble, 54, sat in the teepee awaiting thelatest batch of youth to arriveon Thursday afternoon. He was there to teach traditional games using simple materials such as a willow branch.

In one game, partners were entwined in two pieces of stringand had to figure outhow to become untangled by talking and negotiating with each other, instead of simply taking their hands out of the loops.

Games offered "a form ofentertainment during times when we needed a break from the reality of the past," Gamble said.

His parents were students at St. Michael's Indian Residential School near the town ofDuck Lake a system that stripped Indigenous youth of their culture and subjected them to various forms of neglect and abuse.

"When they became parents, theyhad very little to [no]knowledge of our culture and traditions," Gamble said.

Leo Gamble, who taught traditional games at the camp, waits in a teepee for the next batch of students to arrive. (Guy Quenneville/CBC)

As a young man, hewas later able to learn "healthier ways" from elders.

"I was introduced to people that were living spiritual lives, either in recovery from addictions or people who had embraced the culture of our tribe," Gamblesaid.

And he's now passing that on.

"The little bit that we do today[at] this campis a testament to the resiliency of our culture."

Gamble demonstrates a game to the group. (Guy Quenneville/CBC)