The Bak̕wa̱m (Indigenous) Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw people of the Pacific Northwest embody an innate relationship with the natural world, woven through their creation stories, oral traditions and intricate expressions of culture. Watershed Sentinel was welcomed by two ‘Na̱mg̱is matriarchs to embark on an uplifting experience of sharing the relationship between humans and the natural world, through storytelling and the transfer of Bak̕wa̱m teachings.
The heart of Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw culture lies in the ancient art of storytelling, the perpetual gift from one generation to the next, carefully expressed by the storyteller to bring sanala (to be whole, to have oneness). Storytelling is manifested through words, songs, dances, art, and language. Stories are preserved over time by transferring knowledge through ceremonies such as k̕wił (feasts) and p̓a̱sa (potlatches), artwork, and recognition of the teachings of lived experiences – each deriving from the gifts of the natural world.
Badidu (Shelley Cook) shares, “I think all of us are having these experiences all the time. It’s just whether or not we pay attention.That’s all we have to do, is pay attention to the communication that’s happening.”
Nusa: tell a story, legend, or myth
The connection of the Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw to the natural world is expressed across the different tribes, stemming from the various creation stories of how their first ancestor came to be. Each tribal group of the Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw originates from a different ancestor; there is an understanding among the descendants that beings such as t̕łisa̱la (sun), kwa̱nkwa̱nxwa̱lige’ (thunderbird), ga̱la (grizzly bear), and several others took off their masks to become human.
“In our language, we say Awi’nokola, which means the land, the sky, the sea,” ‘Namnasolaga (Andrea Cranmer) says. “There was so much interconnection with those ways of being. Trees weren’t just trees; those were [our] brothers and sisters. The plant medicine is [our] brothers and sisters. The animals are our ancestors. Those are the things that hold dear to my heart.”
Everything we do is cause and effect.
‘Namnasolaga reflects on how the greed of industry and the infiltration of a colonial mindset does not reflect the morals of the Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw. “Greed is not our natural way of being. If anyone knows our potlatch system, our people had ceremonies; the more you gave, the higher your wealth.” She offers a teaching of Bak̕wa̱m people: “If you’re going to do something, do it well. Preserve. Know what to leave, and what not to leave.”
‘Namnasolaga recalls, “In the old days, everyone was taught nighttime was used to tell stories to young children before they went to bed. These are the things my mom said. Our granny used to gather us and tell us stories at night – we didn’t have TV.”
She continues, “Learn the history, learn the truth about our history. Be willing to tell young people: yes, there’s technology today, but it does not replace learning culture in a natural environment, which is being together, sitting together. We have to go back to the simplest ways of doing things … the medicine is in that.”
Gwa’nalalis and Ḵaniḵiʼlakw
‘Namnasolaga shares a story from the ‘Na̱mg̱is, detailing how the Gwa’ni River was created through the transformation of a first ancestor, Gwaʼnalalis.
When Ḵaniḵiʼlakw, the transformer (creator) visited Gwa’nalalis, Ḵaniḵiʼlakw asked if he would like to become a mountain. Gwa’nalalis replied, “No, because mountains can crumble and fall, as long as the days dawn in the world.” Ḵaniḵiʼlakw asked if he would like to be a boulder. “No, because boulders can crumble and fall, as long as the days dawn in the world.” Ḵaniḵiʼlakw asked if he wanted to be a cedar tree. “No, I don’t want to be a cedar tree, because when hit by lightning, it will split and it will crumble and fall, as long as the days dawn in the world.”
Ḵaniḵiʼlakw asked if he wanted to be a river. “Yes, so I can flow for my people as long as the days dawn in the world.” Ḵaniḵiʼlakw placed his hand on Gwa’nalalis’ forehead, stating, “You will be a river and many kinds of salmon will come to you to provide food for your descendants, for as long as the days shall dawn in the world.” (U’mista Cultural Society, 2024).
‘Namnasolaga explains the Gwa’ni River is now the home of a salmon hatchery, an initiative to keep wild stocks alive. She adds, “It’s poorly funded, while the Canadian government funnels heaps into fish farms. But the strength that I have is knowing that Gwa’ni is still there.”
Ḵ̓aḵ̓ut̕ła: to learn
Badidu opens up with a teaching from her grandparents. “They knew whether the year would be plentiful with how the moon came at the beginning of the year, how it moved in the seasons. They learned, at the beginning of the year, if the quarter ‘ma̱kwa̱la (moon) tipped upwards, it would be a good year for harvesting, and if it tipped downwards, it would not. So that’s big in my family. We all get excited when we see the moon tipped up.”
Badidu describes how she spent the day preserving salmon. “It brought back some memories. [When my gran] was doing fish, it was like a ceremony. It’s the connection that makes me remember how and why they did it. [My gran] was just a part of the whole fish, she was amazing.”
“The strength that I have is knowing that Gwa’ni is still there.”
Through remembrance of her passed loved ones, Badidu offers her favourite story to teach, the story of Sisiutl, a two-headed sea serpent. “It talks about your good choices and your bad choices and the face in the middle… We use [both sides] to teach the right and the wrong.” She adds that the choice between right and wrong affects the chooser and those around them. “The face in the middle (you) always has the ability to choose. It teaches us about being uncomfortable [and] being connected and aware of not just us, but how our voices are going to affect those around us and the environment. Everything we do is cause and effect.”
Thunderbird + Sisiutl by Waławidi Joe Peters Jr. (1992)
Badidu reflects on the grief of losing her son, remembering a story in which she ventured to the water’s edge for cleansing. “It was one of the most beautiful mornings that I’ve ever been down there. The glistening in the night moving into the morning, into the dawn, was so magical.”
She recounts praying for the protection of her loved ones. “All of a sudden I felt talons right around my head like a crown, and the feathers – I wasn’t scared, so I never thought anything bad was gonna happen.” Badidu and her water-cleansing student realized that an owl had landed on her head during her prayer. “My son died [days] later.” She describes her long healing journey and how recognition of the natural world’s message helped her survive her great loss.
Badidu recalls a lesson bestowed upon her by her ancestors – “There’s always a metaphor that you’ll be told, but you have to pay attention.” On the importance of water cleansing, she says, “You’re going to cleanse your hair because your hair is like a net. It’s like a web that’s catching all the energies. It’s a teaching; every person gets what they need from the water, whatever it is. Water is so powerful. You have to have to be mindful, and get connected to spirit.”
During the interview, Badidu described several occasions in which leaning into the natural world provided the strength and understanding to survive hardship. She explains how spirit lived through the natural world. “One thing that really helped, that turned my life around, is that moment when I connected with spirit. Once you connect to spirit, you connect to everything. I was never alone again.” She expresses how in the darkest of times, solace can be found through regaining a connection to the natural elements.
Gwayi’le’las: Bak̕wa̱m way of doing things
“We need to use our Gwayi’le’las, maya’xa̱la (to respect people, property, yourself),” says ‘Namnasolaga. “Mother Earth does not need us. We need her. That’s what people need to remember, she will reproduce on her own if we stop abusing her, and we as humans need to realize that we need her, she doesn’t need us.”
As a dedicated cultural teacher, ‘Namnasolaga asserts countless teachings learned not only from her ancestors, but also through her experience in post-colonial life. “The basic human connection is needed with humans, our land, our animals and our awi’nokola. Our world needs us to make a paradigm shift. Why are we letting darkness override our light? The gifts come from the light, not the dark. So every day is a new day. Bring love.”
Pa̱x̱a̱la, Desiree Mannila is a proud member of the Da’naxda’xw Nation and staff reporter for the Watershed Sentinel.
