This summer, Nisg̱a’a people from across B.C. visited their home territory to connect with community and heal from past traumas, thanks to a special Journey Home program.
Sep. 29, 2024.
Justin Lawrence stands in awe as he gazes at the scenery in Laxgalts’ap, Nisg̱a’a territory: eagles fishing, birds flying overhead and the shimmer of the Nass River’s clear water.
A strong, cool wind blows on his skin as he stands on the river bank, drawing in deep breaths of fresh air.
It’s his first time visiting his home community in person.
“Being here is way different than seeing it on a map,” he says.
“I feel like I’m home. I am home.”
Lawrence has lived all his life — 26 years — in Vancouver, about 775 kilometres away from Nisg̱a’a territory, where his family is from. His mother was a Sixties Scoop victim, taken from her community as a child.
Justin Lawrence was one of several Nisga’a people who made the journey to the Nass Valley, the home of their ancestors.
This past summer, Lawrence was one of several people of Nisg̱a’a heritage offered the chance to visit the Nass Valley, home to the Nisg̱a’a Nation’s four villages in what is now known as northwestern British Columbia, for the first time.
The Nisg̱a’a Ts’amiks Vancouver Society, a non-profit organization run by the Nisg̱a’a Lisim Government that supports Nisg̱a’a people in Vancouver and on Vancouver Island, created the Journey Home program to help people outside the Nass Valley visit the land they came from. The society paid for meals, activities, transportation and accommodation for those on the trip.
The group, composed of people from across B.C., assembled in Vancouver before taking a two-day bus trip to Nisg̱a’a territory to see their homeland, meet family, learn about their people’s history and participate in a traditional food ceremony.
Some made the journey after either they or members of their family were taken away from their land as children – either during the Sixties Scoop, or because they were forced to go to residential schools or take part in the boarding home program. Others moved away with their families long ago. Several were born elsewhere and had never set eyes on the place they’re from.
As families gathered outside of the Nisg̱a’a Ts’amiks office on a warm Saturday morning in Vancouver, they stuck together in small groups, acting shy toward people they didn’t know. A pair of young teens appeared exuberant, as if they didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. Some of the adults looked tired, ready to fall asleep as they began their long journey.
The group boarded the bus hoping that when they returned a week later they would have a greater sense of who they were.
Upon their arrival in the Nass Valley, the group visited the lava beds, a vast area covered in volcanic rock. An estimated 2,000 Nisg̱a’a people were killed when a volcano erupted more than 250 years ago, covering the valley bottom in lava flow and destroying two villages, according to the Nisg̱a’a Nation.
They also toured the Nisg̱a’a Museum in Lax̱g̱altsʼap, which houses carvings, bentwood boxes, headdresses and other works of art.
As the group made their way through the museum, a guide spoke to them about their history and the circumstances that led to their or their family members’ displacement.
It was a conversation that triggered haunting memories for Jo Mansell as she considered what was taken from her.
Mansell, now in her late 50s, was taken from her home as a child during the Sixties Scoop.
“I’m really mad about what they took away and the opportunities to know and understand my culture and my language, and for my children to know that, too.”
‘I had to start somewhere’
Lavita Trimble, who’s on the board of the Nisg̱a’a Ts’amiks Society, said the trip was about healing after children were forcibly removed from their community.
“We have so many relatives out there that were taken … so we want to strengthen the connections and help our people from the aftermath,” Trimble said.
Mansell, who has lived all her life in the Okanagan, first visited the Nass Valley in 2011 as part of a similar program.
“I had never been around so many other Indigenous people, ever,” she said, adding that the only other Indigenous people she had ever connected with were her own children.
“I didn’t grow up on a reserve, so I kind of always felt like I didn’t belong.”
But being on Nisg̱a’a territory, standing on its soil and breathing in its air, she felt at home.
“I belonged.”
By chance, she met another relative during the trip this summer.
Rosalee Vickers-Stevens, who was on the trip to provide support to visitors, has kept extensive records of her family tree – and it turned out she is Mansell’s cousin.
“My great grandfather was her grandfather’s brother,” Mansell said.
Once the pair realized they were related, they didn’t leave each other’s side.
Vickers-Stevens, the oldest of 10 siblings, took it upon herself to learn more about her family as a way of healing from her own trauma, along with the intergenerational trauma caused by the residential school system.
“There was a disconnect there and that was passed on to my generation,” she said. “To have a relationship with a family, you have to connect, right? You have to be together to have a relationship with anyone. I didn’t have that.”
When she visited family, she would bring a pen and paper, and write down everything she could about her family’s history.
“I decided that I had to start somewhere and start healing.”
Now, she’s asked Mansell to do the same. She’s encouraged Mansell to write down her family’s history herself, rather than taking a picture of Vickers-Stevens’ work, in order to help commit that history to memory so she can share it with her children.
‘I belong here’
The trip was life changing for many of these Nisg̱a’a. Like salmon, they felt an inner need to return to a specific creek, a specific home.
Mansell is hopeful she’ll be able to live in her home community one day. She’s already started applying for jobs and looking for work in the Nass Valley.
“It’s like a big hug, this valley,” she said.
“I am Nisga’a. I’m a mother. I am independent, but I want to be able to have the comfort of home.”
Home. It was a constant theme throughout the journey, as was the sense of belonging. These Nisg̱a’a came with questions, searching for something – and many of them, like Lawrence, found it.
“Touching the soil and breathing the air is rejuvenating for me,” he says, standing on the bank of the Nass River. He says he’s going to feel out of place in Vancouver when he returns there.
“Now that I’ve been here for the first time and seen where my family comes from, definitely I belong here.”
