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Shielded by love, WSANEC helper uses ancestorsBԪַ knowledge to guide all he does

Rob Sam considers himself one of the few to be protected, now he looks to heal Coast Salish pains
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Rob Sam sits with his handmade drum in his office at the Pacific Centre Family Services Association, where he helps people as the counselling agencyBԪַs Indigenous liaison. (Jake Romphf/BԪַ Staff)

This is part two in a special series prepared by Black Press Media. You can find more of the series and other articles on truth and reconciliation online here.

This article contains descriptions of abuse that may be triggering. Support for survivors and their families is available. Call the Indian Residential School Survivors Society at 1-800-721-0066, or 1-866-925-4419 for the 24-7 crisis line.

From a distance, a young Rob Sam watched on as his grandfather worked away, whether it was harvesting every piece of a deer or crafting a new drum from scratch.

Around the age of seven, he asked what his grandpa was doing and the elder took SamBԪַs hand and pressed it against a deer hoof being worked on.

BԪַI started to get that feeling of belonging and then permission, permission to continue carrying on what heBԪַs doing,BԪַ Sam, whose traditional name is qw BԪַa la tthBԪַut, said of the introduction to his culture.

He now serves as the Indigenous liaison of the Pacific Centre Family Services Association, which offers a range of counselling and social services to those on south Vancouver Island.

With Canada again set to reckon with its treatment of Indigenous Peoples this National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, Sam is one who isnBԪַt heard from as much, one who doesnBԪַt have many personal stories from the harms.

The WSANEC territory member instead sees himself on one side, as one of the few who were protected. The other end hosts those who were exposed to the trauma of residential and day schools, including multiple generations of his family.

BԪַSometimes I wonder, how did that happen? Why did that happen?BԪַ

Sam had to attend the Tsartlip Indian Day School for kindergarten and part of Grade 1 before his grandparents helped pull him out and enrol him in the Brentwood Bay public school.

BԪַAfter that, I grew up with very strong teachings from my grandfathers, my aunts, my uncles and my parents.BԪַ

Those teachings included grandfathers showing him how to make deer-hide drums or how to honour all living things. His aunt always told him to keep his mind strong, while uncles would call him over during cultural events to explain what was going on or would show him how to use the HulBԪַqBԪַumiBԪַnum language, whether he was addressing a filled longhouse or consoling a grief-torn friend.

When he was young, Sam didnBԪַt realize what those family members were instilling in him. Those bits of traditional knowledge were seeds being planted, ones that would see him grow into a healer of hurt souls all across Coast Salish territory. Whether itBԪַs answering the call of any ceremony that needs his presence or his role at the Pacific Centre, his ancestorsBԪַ knowledge guides everything Sam does.

He sees now what his family saw during his childhood BԪַ that by shielding him from the horrors others experienced at residential and day schools, Sam could become someone who would be greatly needed, someone who could help.

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Rob Sam sings and plays with his handmade drum in his office at the Pacific Centre Family Services Association, where he helps people as the counselling agencyBԪַs Indigenous liaison. (Jake Romphf/BԪַ Staff)

The Canadian government- and church-run day schools differed from residential schools as students got to go home in the evenings, but the children were still subjected to anti-Indigenous assimilation along with physical, mental and sexual abuse.

A federal court this year approved a $2.8-billion settlement agreement between the Canadian government and plaintiffs representing members from 325 First Nations. The settlement stemmed from a 2009 class action lawsuit brought on by day school survivors. The lawsuit said some of the abuse was severe while students were also mocked, denigrated and humiliated by day school staff and officials over their Indigenous culture and language.

Throughout his life, Sam has seen the pain caused by the institutions BԪַ both directly inflicted and intergenerational BԪַ and how those impacts have surfaced in the way of anger, sadness or survivors closing themselves off from others. Kids he knew would come home showing physical scars of the abuse from the day school.

Sometimes at the lacrosse box or soccer field, heBԪַd notice his friends holding one side of their head and when he asked if they were OK, the response would be a swift BԪַyep.BԪַ Later on, he learned kids would have their ears pulled at the day school.

BԪַIt was tough. In the back of your mind, you know thereBԪַs something going on. I always tried to find a way to help them.BԪַ

He travelled the province for sports in his teens, with one basketball tournament in Mission seeing his team housed in the communityBԪַs residential school. The overnight stay coincided with several teammates having nightmares, while he also recalls the unease of locals when he played soccer at a field just down the hill from the Kuper Island residential school.

Sam worked in construction for many years until his dad said he didnBԪַt want him doing that job forever. That led to him joining his father, who had become involved in ceremonial brushings for people working at archeological sites. His dad passed away not long after and thatBԪַs when SamBԪַs mother called on him to finish what his dad started.

He was then scouted into positions at the Ministry of Child and Family Services, where heBԪַd hold coordinator roles dealing with Indigenous culture and elders. Word of his work eventually found Liz Nelson, who heads the Pacific Centre. The executive director remembers SamBԪַs excitement about the liaison role in their first meetings, and how he would say, BԪַWe can help so many people.BԪַ

BԪַThatBԪַs why IBԪַm here today BԪַ IBԪַm here to help,BԪַ Sam said. BԪַWeBԪַve seen all the different emotions we can see and there are different ways of dealing with those emotions.BԪַ

BԪַFor someone like me, trying to understand what theyBԪַre going through, itBԪַs hard, itBԪַs hard to understand what (survivors and their families) are working with, dealing with and trying to live with.BԪַ

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Rob SamBԪַs drum. (Jake Romphf/BԪַ Staff)

While still in construction, he started to get called to more and more ceremonies around the south Island or in Washington state. Some of those included ceremonies held with the community in longhouses that would aim to rid the hurt felt by many inside.

BԪַAll the hurt feelings that people have when theyBԪַre coming in, sometimes it magnifies, and you have to be strong to clear it out of that house.BԪַ

The ceremony Sam spoke of was one of the cultural events that Indigenous communities were banned from holding during the 1900s.

HeBԪַs also regularly called on to help steer individuals as they are initiated in longhouses. Many of those heBԪַs guided through the spiritual process feel like children to him and will still greet him with a BԪַHey popsBԪַ even though their initiation was decades ago.

Those tight bonds with a widespread community also mean Sam can tell when people are struggling. He can gauge whether those hurting need his support or some space, and when all he can do is ask how theyBԪַre doing.

Some kids today donBԪַt always understand what their older family members went through in the residential institutions, he said.

Sam points to a story told by his uncle, where the ripple of a pebble tossed into a still pond turns into a crushing wave by the time it reaches the far shore. The story has manifested in his community with younger generations still impacted by residential and day schools. Sam has seen folks hide when people come to the door, just as their relatives would.

BԪַItBԪַs because of that fear that theyBԪַre going to get taken, thatBԪַs from way back but it still affects our children today.BԪַ

The intergenerational impact on todayBԪַs youth comes in several forms. Some are scared of medical appointments BԪַ which Sam can relate to as he recalls the fear of lining up with other kids for harshly done dental work at the day school. Other kids heBԪַs worked with have talked about being excited about school, but then they become afraid to go.

BԪַItBԪַs one of those things that have carried on from residential and day school. ItBԪַs still there and we need to find a way to break that cycle,BԪַ Sam said, noting people today are also dealing with harder varieties of substances, which complicates their healing journey.

BԪַThere are ones that just canBԪַt get away from that harmful stuff and itBԪַs not their fault, theyBԪַre dealing with all the trauma that their family went through and is still going through.BԪַ

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Rob Sam sits with his handmade drum in his office at the Pacific Centre Family Services Association, where he helps people as the counselling agencyBԪַs Indigenous liaison. (Jake Romphf/BԪַ Staff)

He feels fortunate to receive the teachings he did, which can make a huge impact on those still struggling. People light up when he infuses culture into their care and itBԪַs been rewarding for him to pass down teachings to his children, grandchildren and the Coast Salish community.

From his Orange-walled Pacific Centre office, Sam picks up a drum from the corner as he talks of the first time his grandfather placed his hand on the deer hoof. Those walking through his door are seeking a safe place, something Sam knows the drums can help provide.

BԪַThis drum carries a lot and there was a few that came in and said, BԪַIBԪַve always wanted to drum,BԪַBԪַ Sam said, noting some seem almost shocked when he offers to teach them a beat or a song, and they commonly remark on how good it feels after just a few hits to the hide.

SamBԪַs arms wrap around the drum, pressing it tight to his chest so that BԪַ with the light of the mid-day sun shining through his office windows BԪַ the design of his Orange Shirt Day T-shirt appears through the deer hide. At any Indigenous gathering, he said youBԪַll see others holding their drums close just as he does.

BԪַItBԪַs protecting them,BԪַ Sam says. BԪַItBԪַs a big part of who we are and itBԪַs a big part of healing.BԪַ

READ MORE: Stories about truth and reconciliation

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