NAIM Update - Untold Stories

Friends at Pacific,

I trust this finds you well and enjoying the transition to fall.  This is one of my favourite times of year...it probably stems from playing sports...the start of hockey and football seasons.

I’ve met some incredible people in ministry.  One of those is Stephen Lytton, a member of the Nicomen Indian Band within the Nlaka’pamux First Nation.
 
What follows is one of many courageous untold stories helping shape how we can better understand each other.  Stephen is a Christian brother with remarkable resilience (parts of the video deal with strong subject matter).
Stephen attended St. George’s School from 1961 to 1974
Between the early 1880s and 1996, over 150,000 Indigenous children in Canada were systematically taken from their families.  They were sent away to residential schools run by church organizations and funded by the Canadian government. 
 
The children were forbidden to speak their language and practice their culture – they were forced to assimilate into ‘white Canada.’ 
 
Stephen Lytton called saying he’d meet to share about his experiences at St. George’s Indian Residential School in British Columbia.  Stephen mentioned he’d also be speaking to high school students at David Thompson High School in Vancouver and suggested I come along.

Watch video here

“raw and poetic articulation of the 14 years he endured in the residential school system - a child’s survival redefines itself as the artful embodiment of a man.”

Before his death in 1894, Anglican Bishop Acton Windeyer Sillitoe recognized the need for a permanent residential school for native boys.  He found a willing sponsor in England.  The Society for the Propagation of the Gospel (SPG) responded to the Bishop’s request and the project was brought to fruition.
 
St. George’s School was constructed in 1902 on 696 acres of land just northwest of Lytton, a community at the confluence of Fraser and Thompson Rivers.  The Lillooet Highway and the Canadian Pacific Railway connected the school to the outside world. 
 
I met Stephen the morning of his talk and we walked through David Thompson High School (established 1958).  As we walked the halls to the office, Stephen remarked a few times that the floors reminded him of hospitals he’d spent time in. 
 
The students gathered in the library.  Almost all were of Asian heritage (reflecting the demographic changes in this part of Vancouver).  Most had never heard of residential schools or Canada’s Truth & Reconciliation Commission.

Stephen:  “I want to talk with you today about the problems that people with mobility difficulties, like me, face on our reserves and in our city and how it impacted my mental health.   I want to share my life experience, and hopefully give some insight into the experiences I and other Aboriginal people had in residential schools.  This is the true purpose of reconciliation… to share with you…it’s not about blame…it’s about moving forward as a nation.  When I talk about these issues I take it serious because we have to.
 
I was born into a large First Nations family on a reserve in Lytton, B.C.  I am a twin, and my twin sister is not disabled.  I did not know I had a disability until it was forced upon me.  The early bond between my family and I was strong.  My family packed me around, or dragged me in the case of my twin and younger sister!  I did not walk until I was 10, when I learned to use a walker, and then eventually crutches at age 12 or 13.  The doctor was not acquainted with CP and he thought I would walk in a few months, but it was 10 years!
 
There was limited knowledge of CP in the early years of my life.  Since we were Native people, we had to go through the Indian Agent, who controlled the finances for all the First Nations people of the area.   All medical services had to be arranged through him, so there was lots of paperwork and delays that had to be endured.
    
My parents had no training to deal with my condition, and they did the best they could, but eventually the strain took its toll on their marriage, and they separated.  My mother became a single parent with a disabled child.  I never had the chance to bond with my father.   I realize there is a vast loss of culture and experience that I missed out on because he was not in my life.  I did not know what he thought of me, whether he was ashamed of a handicapped son, or if he just felt helpless to meet my needs.
    
The health nurse made arrangements for me to be diagnosed by a doctor in Vancouver.  My life then became a series of trips from Lytton to Vancouver (a 3 hour drive) for checkups and treatment, hospital stays and surgeries.  This meant long periods of time away from my mother and family.
 

Above - St. George's Residential School

The Indian Agent and health nurse thought it would be best for me to go to the residential school.  I attended St. George’s Residential School in Lytton, B.C.  I spent 13 years in the residential school, which was located in my community, but I could only go home at holiday times and in the summer.  Stays in the hospital in Chilliwack and Vancouver interrupted my years there.  I loved hospitals, they shaped and molded me into who I am.  The nurses believed in me, encouraged me, and showed me they cared.  Even though I was a test case patient with CP, I wish today I could have the opportunity to thank them for what they did for me.
 
The Indian agents thought the school would be better equipped to handle my disability.  They felt they knew what was best for us and made decisions without consulting us.

They weren’t wise, because they did not check to see how things went!  I learned there that I was disabled when others would put me down, called me a freak and even threw rocks at me.  I learned to pull myself around with my arms or get others to carry me.  The residential school was not equipped to handle a disabled child.  The staff was not trained in ways to assist me, and the facility was not accessible to disabled students either.  I had to rely on students and staff to pack me around.  The bond with my family was broken to bond with strangers.  These became my caregivers.  I was betrayed by some of these caregivers and sexually abused.  Sexual abuse was a major problem in the residential schools.  The psychological impact was significantly greater, you could not tell anyone, and the shame was too much.  As children, we did not believe that we would be believed, so we suffered in silence, for many years! 
 
In residential school, I became aware that I was not equal to the other students.  I could not participate in activities and the life of the school like the other children.  I couldn’t run away like others did.  Relationships with girls were affected by my disability.  I wasn’t a ‘jock’ and involved in sports like other boys.  We did not learn to have healthy relationships with the opposite sex, and learn the life skills that were needed to prosper and succeed in life.  I learned later that I resented girls for rejecting me because of my physical disability and not considering me for my intellectual abilities.  Today, most of my friends are women, even though I don’t have a special one!  I trust them, and they trust me.

Many of us who survived residential school, are just surviving today, and many struggle just to do that.  I had to become independent from my family.  My mother had been overprotective in the early years, and it was hard for her to see me go away to school and then to live in the city (Stephen has lived in Vancouver since 1978).  It has only been in the last ten years that she has been able to accept the fact that I am able to care for myself and deal with life without her having to worry about me.  And I’m 61 years old!  The Creator walks with me.

When I go through challenges, it is like going through a dark valley – it shapes me, it strengthens our character, and it empowers us to stand strong.   Many residential school survivors suffer from nightmares, we can’t control them, they scare us, but we wake up in the morning and we go on living life! 
 
One of the positives of residential school was that I learned to be outgoing, able to make friends with many people, I had to, or I would have been left out of everything!  I learned to speak up for others and myself.  However, even that can have a negative side, those who left the community and learned to live on the outside are considered ‘apples’ (red on the outside, white on the inside) and are caught between communities and cultures, and do not feel accepted by either community.  
 
Another impact of the residential schools was the destruction of the family structure.  My parents went to residential school.  Some children were sent to Vancouver Island or other places in Canada.  Residential schools separated families.  The bonds of parent and children were not created.  What we see today is the destruction of family in our culture.  All across this nation there are people attempting to deal with their hurts.  As a result, you see people in addictions, prostitution, and various forms of abuse, which has resulted in women going missing and nobody knowing that they are missing for a period of time because they don’t have close ties with others.  They cannot see a way out of that lifestyle.  When you see Aboriginal people struggling with addictions, it is the result of the lack of healthy bonds with family and community.
 
I desire to see our people not just being survivors, but moving beyond surviving to living, thriving, and sharing something much bigger than ourselves in the hopes that it would open up the floodgates of the past so that our nations might begin their healing journey and stop the rippling effect over generations.
 
In closing, sharing my experience has done wonders in my growth, in my relationships, and has catapulted me forward immensely.  It has made me stronger, made me realize that prior to sharing my story I was a male child and after sharing, I saw the difference between the male child and the adult man I have become in the last 10 years.  I cannot change the past, but I can move forward, and sharing my story has been the best thing that has ever happened to me.  Today, I look to the future; I want to move beyond just surviving to thriving, living life to the fullest!  I want to move forward in the hopes that others will follow our example.  Aboriginal youth today need role models to look up to.  They need to see hope and potential in their future if they are to have success in life.”
 
After his talk, Stephen responded to a few questions and made some observations:
 
“The hardest thing about having CP is not having a family of my own…but God the Creator has given me the opportunity and the character and the strength to move beyond that.  Being a role model is the next best thing for me.  Creator has given me the opportunity to be with you here today and to speak of these issues…to give Canada a hand up in learning about their true history.  I love public speaking and that you guys have taken the time to be here and I love your attitude.”
 
“People with special needs are treated like children…my intellect is equal to yours so don’t judge me on my disability but on what God’s given me.  If you do you are judging God for what he’s given me.”
 
“It was after residential school that I developed the relationship with God.  You learn a lot as a man as you go along.  I didn’t know the language of love and that hindered my potential for relationship.  We were angry at the church because of how we were taught.  It wasn’t a relationship.  Had we been taught the right way about having a direct relationship with the Lord that might have been a whole new ballgame with a lot more Native Christians.  There’s a difference between a relationship with the Lord and religion.  Religion killed a lot of people.  It killed a lot of relationships too.  If you force a belief on someone you’re killing them…it’s not their choice.”
 
“In terms of what the church can do to respond?  We need to have more of this dialogue from all sides and generations.  It’s impacting an entire nation and we need to hear from first, second and third generations that have been affected.  It has broken up the family and how are people dealing with it?  How do we move forward since we don’t have the role models we used to?”
Why can't they just get over it?
Some reading this will hear about residential schools for the first time.  Others have heard and think, “Why can’t they just get over it?” 
 
Independent Canadian Senator Murray Sinclair served the justice system in Manitoba for over 25 years and was the first Aboriginal Judge appointed in Manitoba and Canada’s second.  As head of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), he participated in hearings across Canada, culminating in the TRC’s Report and Calls to Action in 2015.  He has heard that question a lot…“Why can’t you just get over it and move on?” 
 
He responds, “My answer has always been, ‘Why can’t you always remember this…because this is about memorializing those people who have been victims of a great wrong?  Why don’t you tell the United States to get over 9/11?  Why don’t you tell this country to get over all the veterans in the Second World War instead of honouring them once a year?  Why don’t you tell your families to stop thinking about all your ancestors who died?  It’s because it’s important for us to remember.  We learn from it.  And until people show that they have learned from this we will never forget.  And we should never forget even once they have learned from it because this is a part of who we are as survivors and children of survivors.  It is also a part of who we are as a nation.  And this nation must never forget what it once did to its most vulnerable people.’”

The Right Honourable David Johnston, Governor General of Canada, presented Stephen with the Governor General’s Caring Canadian Award.  Stephen was one of 150 Canadians recognized for their excellence, courage or exceptional dedication to service at the ceremony.

 
Refusing to accept the marginalization of First Nations people with disabilities, Stephen has volunteered with the British Columbia Aboriginal Network on Disability Society since 1991, where he currently serves as president.  Under his leadership, the Society promotes Aboriginal participation in community planning and provides disability, health and social support services throughout the province.”

Created in 1995, the Governor General’s Caring Canadian Award recognizes living Canadians and permanent residents who have made a significant, sustained, unpaid contribution to their community, in Canada or abroad.

An accomplished actor, writer and presenter, Stephen has presented both in western and eastern Canada to various groups regarding his personal experiences in residential school as an Aboriginal person living with a disability.

Thank you for taking the time to read about Stephen's life...

Tim & Lana Higginbotham