Skip to content
Join our Newsletter

Morning in Mount Currie

Olympic torch illuminates First Nation community's ambitions
61228_l

Day is breaking and Mount Currie is nervous.

The Indian reserve just four kilometres east of Pemberton is slowly opening its eyes on to one of the biggest days in its history. Seven members of the Lil'wat Nation are about to run the Olympic torch into town and people don't quite know how to feel.

The Olympics have been a hard sell in a community that normally hovers around 80 per cent unemployment. Even the Chief of the band council wasn't sold from the start - "token involvement" wasn't for him, he says. A call for applications to be community torchbearers yielded only four responses.

Concerns persist even today, just six days from the start of the biggest event that's ever been held in the Lil'wat Nation's traditional territory. Some worry that protests will interrupt the relay; others worry the torch will be greeted by apathy.

The community of about 2,000 people has taken on a second task this day: the opening of Ullus, a new community complex that will house the band office, gymnasium, radio station and culture centre.

Almost four years and $4 million in the making, it replaces a crumbling old facility with warped floors and air ducts that were known to clam up people's nasal passages. The new building is expected to serve as the heart of the community once completed. Today, it's not quite done - but Torch Relay Day seems a fitting occasion to open its doors.

It's a foggy morning on Feb. 6. The community is wearily opening its eyes on the big day. Horses stand solemnly in a misty field across from the complex. Inside Ullus, a building whose entrance is flanked by totem-like pillars, members are preparing a community breakfast and blowing up red and white balloons.

Meanwhile brothers Fraser and Frank Andrew are performing a smudge ceremony in the gymnasium. One burns an incense-like stick, the other waves a band of bonded cedar, blessing every inch they pass. They want to ensure that the building has good energy and that the spirits are honoured on opening day.

In Mount Currie, the dead don't pass on - their spirits remain and watch over the living.

More nervous than the rest is Frank Wallace, a former drug and alcohol counselor at the local health centre who'll administer a prayer when the flame arrives. Dressed in traditional regalia, the respected carver and dancer trembles as he speaks.

Today is the culmination of a long, hard road for Frank. He spent his formative years at Sechelt Indian Residential School, where for 10 years he received a very basic education that brought him to a Grade 4 level.

Like many others who attended such schools, he endured physical punishment at the hands of instructors who sought to kill the Indian in him. And when he left, like many others he turned to drugs and alcohol for sanctuary.

He's been chosen for his task precisely because of his history - and because he's an inspiration to others who want to turn their lives around.

"Not a lot of people liked me at the beginning because they know my history of alcohol," he says, recalling the way that his own people used to look at him.

It's 8 a.m. and the torch is almost here. Hundreds have gathered outside Ullus and drummers play the Lil'wat welcome song as they eagerly await the flame's arrival. To the south, the torch relay convoy rolls in along Highway 99, accompanied by several police and the Coke and RBC trucks now familiar to all who've witnessed the flame.

There are seven torchbearers in total. Each is instructed to hold the flame high and keep the maple leaf pointed towards their hearts.

Soon, out of the mist a light approaches, flanked on either side by guardians in grey. With TV cameras rolling for CTV and a German station, Peyton Dan runs the torch into town to the sounds of drums and piercing cheers. Once at Ullus he meets Linda Dan, the next torchbearer.

They stand before a rousing crowd as Frank takes his place at a podium. Speaking softly but gravely, he asks that the Creator keep everyone safe on a very special day.

Peyton joins his flame with Linda's and then she's off with what seems like the entire community following her. They move in and among houses in bad need of repair, some with broken windows, others missing doors altogether. Homeless dogs dash in amongst the runners and residents stand along the road cheering Dan on. Others stay inside, waving from their living room windows.

After 300 metres, Linda hands the flame to Randall Phillips, the 21-year-old son of Lucinda, Mount Currie's Land and Resources Manager. He's currently at Capilano University studying business and wants to bring his skills back to the community when finished.

As he runs along Rancheree Street he's watched by a Golden Eagle, perched atop a bare tree. This bird normally hunts in the high alpine but it's been known to fly lower when looking for food. Today it's just a spectator, though with its acute sight it could easily see the flame from further away.

Randall hands the torch to Bobby Stager, who escorts it on its final leg through Mount Currie atop his horse, Moonlight. He brings the flame past a sacred bell that used to belong to the steeple of a church in town. Now it's rung when members pass away.

Bobby brings the torch to its final stop at an empty field with dead plants bowled over by snow. This is a rhubarb patch that belonged to his grandmother. And now, when Bobby goes to sleep tonight, he'll know her spirit is watching over him.

Shaking the hand of a torch guardian, he leaves it with him as it's packed up and carried off to Lillooet, the next town along the highway. The community heads back to Ullus for its grand opening. There the torchbearers are introduced one by one. Bobby lowers his head, struggling to hide tears. Hayden Leo, a Grade 12 student at Xit'olacw Community School, says he's done it for "all the pretty girls" in the world.

Outside the centre, Frank Wallace looks over his community and smiles. The two of them have endured difficult roads to get here but the flame has not disappointed.

"It was awesome," he says, his nerves finally calmed. "You don't know what's going to happen or what's going to take place. When I finally got in there it was all right. It was great to see the media, to see our people, to see many different people from many different places."

The light, he feels, has ushered in a new era for his community.

"I'm positive things are happening here and I see it in all the faces of our community," he says. "When I mentioned Lil'wat, we all cheered and said welcome to all the people and Lil'wat here.

"You've got to be proud."