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As I Remember It: Teachings (Ɂəms tɑɁɑw) from the Life of a Sliammon Elder Material in this book may be culturally sensitive for a number of reasons. This label identifies such content by stating: “it is ours.”

ɬaʔamɩn teachings, laws, and practices that flow from them are subject to the ʔəms naʔ label because they are communally held and collectively stewarded by ɬaʔamɩn people for future generations. Much of this knowledge is captured in our legends, for example. The authors recognize that ɬaʔamɩn, Klahoose, and Homalco families have their own tellings of the legends.

Other parts of the book are labelled “ʔəms naʔ” because the ongoing nature of settler colonialism means that the histories discussed here are not part of a distant past. For close to a century, colonial laws and policies prevented community members from sharing teachings freely in their community without fear of punishment or retribution, imposing silences that remain even today. Thus this label also applies to chapters that discuss the genocidal practices that sought to interrupt the transmission of teachings and to sever ɬaʔamɩn sovereign rights to their territory.

Please treat information and photographs marked with this label with special care, especially if you plan to share them with others. This label refers to a teaching that emerges throughout this book: “you learn from someone by example.” (The literal translation of tiʔiwš is “fast learner.”) The goal of this book is to share ɬaʔamɩn teachings and history widely with ɬaʔamɩn community members, students, and teachers at all levels, and with any other interested readers. This is Elsie’s goal in sharing ʔəms tɑʔɑw, and all of the authors hope the book serves an educational purpose. The authors ask readers to take care to use this information respectfully and in context. The Sliammon-language term for this label means “it is mine.” This book contains the teachings and history of the ɬaʔamɩn people as remembered and narrated by Elder Elsie Paul. The effort and care she takes in this work is important. She offers a counter-narrative to incorrect and inappropriate interpretations previously drawn by settlers. Please respect Elsie Paul’s right and responsibility to relate the history and teachings in her own words. She does so from her own perspective and does not attempt to speak for all ɬaʔamɩn people. Please attribute the stories shared in this book to Elsie Paul.

Some sections of this book are authored by other individuals and should be attributed to the appropriate person(s) as indicated.

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The Police
The police could come patrolling through the reserve several times a night. And if your lights are on, they come right to the door: “Why are your lights on?”
In those days it wasn’t even electricity. It was, like, a gas lamp or a coal-oil lantern. Come knock on the door, check what you’re up to, why you’re up that time of the night. So you can’t be up late at night without causing the police to be suspicious. There was no street lights. There was nothing. So quite often people, when they started and if they wanted to party or socialize, cover the windows with heavy blanket and – so that the police don’t come and check. A bunch of fugitives. [laughs] They’d come right in and look around. If there was any booze, they had the right to take any liquor that’s around the house if there’s any.
We were over visiting Rose and Alec, and they were logging buddies. They were always talking logging talk and that. So I’m sittin’ in the main living room with Rose, and we’re visiting, and Alec and my husband were sitting off in a room – there was a bedroom there, and they were – they’re sitting there talking and visiting. Next thing you know, a police officer comes through the door. And there was just a curtain on the door. There was no door, just a curtain to cover the doorway. So hearing the police come in, I guess they put their bottle on the windowsill – window ledge – in that little room. And the lights are on, of course it’s dark. Yeah, “What’s going on in here?” That’s how he used to be.
The police would just walk in: “What are you guys up to?” And it’s like you’re scolded or, you know, rough – it’s not anything like “Oh, how are you today?” kind of thing. You know? “I was just passing through, checking to see if you’re okay.” No, it was “What are you up to?” and “Where’s your husband?” Right away Alec came out of the bedroom and, “Oh, officers.” And by then he’s kind of jagged already. In the meantime they had put that bottle on the ledge, and there’s a curtain. So officer went there, I guess looked around, didn’t see any bottle there or anything. So left and went out through the kitchen and around the house, and there was, like, a walkway going down by the house. I guess when you looked like that at that window, you seen this bottle on the ledge. Comes back in, goes stomping into that bedroom, grabs that bottle, and walks out with it. So of course Alec and my husband were really upset by … they took away their bottle of whiskey. Followed the police officers outside, and they’re jabbering away like a couple of magpies.
They’re, “You can’t do that to us,” and “That’s our right. We paid a lot of money for that bottle!” and blah, blah, blah. Officer just ignored them and went in his vehicle. So they kind of went around the vehicle – Alec’s on one side, and Dad’s on the other side, and they’re nattering at the officer from both windows in the police car. “You can’t do this to us. We’ve got our rights,” Alec was saying. “I was in the Army. I served in the war.” And what did he say he was? He was – oh! “I was in the 47th brigade,” he said. [laughs] I don’t know if he knew what that meant. And the officer was standing there, and I’m over on one side. I’m telling my husband, “Come with me, let’s go home.” In the meantime the officer had spilled that whiskey right on the road by the vehicle – upended the bottle, spilled all that whiskey out. And he said, “Now you go home.” He was telling that to us, like, me and my husband were standing there.