Continued from Tuesday, Oct. 16

Family is so very important, as many of you know.

They ground you with sound counsel and enable you to stand up against anything.

My mom, Lizette, was of the Saddleman family.

She had one sister, Alice, and one brother, George.

Growing up among my aunt and uncle and their families was great for me.

I remember my mom cooking breakfast at Uncle George’s home.

She would make oatmeal and homemade bread for toast. The cook stove was big and stood by the window. A washstand was by the door, with pails on a wooden bench.

My uncle’s home had a big kitchen with windows that opened to a view of the rolling hills of Quilchena, and Nicola Lake. In the summer it would be so pretty.

Uncle George had a big crab apple tree close to his home and when the apples were ripe, we would pick them.

Mom, Aunt Alice and sometimes Nancy would be there to help make crab apple jam and preserves.

Mmm, they tasted so good. I love the colour of crab apples.

This reminds me of residential school. Every year, when we returned to school, there would be work ready for us.

Actually, we had very little time in class. Mostly, we had work. Doing laundry was a huge task. The laundry room was in the basement of the building.

It was cold in the winter and hot during the summer.

Laundry was for all the students, which would number close to four hundred, including the senior, intermediate and junior boys and girls clothes.

Laundry included folding sheets, pillow cases, nightgowns and clothes we worn.

Certain days were spent in the sewing room, darning the nuns’ stockings, and the boys’ socks and other stuff.

Rows of sewing machines were lined up, one girl at each one, patching worn clothes so they would not be thrown out.

In the fall, when fruit such as plums, apples and other fruit were ready, we had to stand outside in the cold and fill many jars with fruit.

The jars were placed on rows upon rows of wooden tables. We would be lined up side by side, putting fruit into them from boxes of fruit.

It would be so cold. I remember my hands almost froze. We had no warm coats or gloves to keep us warm, either.

Our heads would be uncovered too, with cold wind blowing in from the river.

In the winter, we had to be outside whether we wanted to or not.

The ice skating was no fun as we were too cold to enjoy the skating time.

The ice skates were uncomfortable too. They were always too big.

The only good I can remember is movie time. Once a month there would be a movie for everyone. It would be in the gym.

That’s when boys and girls could talk to each other, or even flirt in a good way with one another.

Otherwise, girls and boys were not allowed to speak or even look at one another, as it was considered a sin.

Even a brother could not talk to his sister.

Every day we had to attend church. We never could understand the priest, because he would be saying mass in Latin.

My mom taught me to pray in our own Syilx language. I would hear her pray and speak to K’welencuten.

My mom told me the name K’welencuten meant, “God was not created by anyone. He is the Creator.”

I feel I am blessed to have been taught to pray, as prayer surely kept me alive in that horrible place called “residential school.”

Psalm 91; 1, He Who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall remain stable and fixed under the shadow of the Almighty Whose power no foe can withstand.

I believe my Mom’s prayers, and her faith in K’welencuten kept me safe, even far away from her care.

As Always in Friendship