Carrie Allison, Caretaker of the Chapels

 

For many years a diminutive white chapel perched like a beacon of hope on a bluff overlooking Highway 3, just east of Hedley. When a month had a fifth Sunday, a priest arrived to conduct mass for a handful of parishioners, most of whom came from the two local reservations. In spite of the evils of church run residential schools, for me the chapel seemed a symbol of purity, exuding an aura of authenticity and a refreshing lack of ostentation. For some band members though, it likely stirred bitter memories of prejudice and abuse. On June 26, 2021, shortly after unmarked graves of children were discovered at a former Kamloops residential school, an arsonist put a match to this iconic structure.

Some time after the fire Linda and I attended a Wake for a band member and we were greeted warmly by Carrie Allison, a revered member of the local band. She told us there is still an earlier chapel, situated at a lower level on the same property. “Come and have a look,” she invited. “I’ll give you a tour.”

The “jail” in the foreground hasn’t been used in a long while. photo by Gerry Wilkin

Several weeks later Carrie showed us the unpainted original chapel and also the small log structure that once served as the band jail. After the tour she sat with Linda and me in our Sun Room and talked about her life and the two chapels. “The first one was built in about 1890,” she said. “The white one was built in 1910. The people worked tirelessly, bringing building supplies with horse and wagon. It was very hard work. The elders who built them are gone now. I still do the cleaning and arrange for maintenance. I want to show respect for their efforts and sacrifices.”

The interior of the original chapel is much more ornate than the exterior. Pews. altar and other items were donated by the St. Ann’s Parish in Penticton.
photo by Gerry Wilkin

Listening to Carrie, we wondered how she was able to rise above prejudice and difficult circumstances to become an inspirational role model to many in our community. Certainly her early years could have fostered a resentful, rebellious spirit.

I was born in Merritt almost 92 years ago,” she said. “My birth father was white, a bad man. I didn’t get to know him.”

Like many indigenous children, Carrie didn’t get a great start in life. Her education began in a reservation school but at age 8 she was sent to a residential school in Kamloops. “Some of the nuns were nice,” she recalled, “but not all. One was especially mean to young children. We were in class half a day and worked half a day. We planted and weeded the crops. My mother had taught me to sew and I mended the boys’ pants, socks and shirts. If we didn’t make our beds perfectly, they were ripped apart and we had to start over. At meal times we saw the priests and nuns eating nutritious meals, including meat. Our meals were skimpy, with no meat. At Easter they gave us each a boiled egg with our meal. I was always hungry.”

She was 10 and had been in the residential school three years when her older sister refused to go back. “I decided not to go back either, so I ran away,” Carrie said. “I walked 8 miles to my grandparents home. My grandfather told me if I wasn’t going to school, I’d have to work. They couldn’t afford to feed me. I worked in orchards, did gardening and housework. Later I also worked in a restaurant.”

In 1949 at age 18 she married Edward (Slim) Allison, who later became band chief. At age 40 she returned to school and achieved a grade 10 standing. She decided to become a hair dresser and set up a salon in her home. When she was 60, Carrie applied for a social insurance card. “My mother couldn’t read or write,” she recalled. “She told me I was born on March 6, but when the card arrived, it said March 27.”

Carrie isn’t one of the bitter ones. Following her mother’s example, she still helps elderly and poor people in need. “When people ask how I can stay with the Catholic church after the abuse and humiliation of the residential school system, I tell them it wasn’t God who did that to me. People did it.”

Still vibrant, resolute and active in the local band, she will celebrate her 92nd birthday in March. Her good will, wisdom and resilience continue to be an example and inspiration to the band and the Hedley community.

Carrie Allison at the entrance to the Chuchuwayha Oblate Mission Church. photo by Gerry Wilkin.

 

Mennonite Centre – On The Ground In Ukraine

When Vladimir Putin’s forces invaded Ukraine, mainstream media were keenly interested. With the war grinding on month after month, this interest has flagged. Now they largely report  missile strikes on major cities, especially Kyiv.  At times we also hear about an infusion of cash or donation of heavy tanks. They give only scant, occasional attention to the devastation of individual lives, families and communities.

Rarely do they provide an understanding of the misery caused when mothers and children flee, leaving fathers and husbands who are defending Ukraine. We are told little about the scarcity of wood for heat, warm clothes, dwindling  food supplies, or the fear endured by those hiding in dank, unheated basements or  apartment buildings with blown out windows, doors, or even walls.

For almost a year, Linda & I have received reports  from the Friends of the Mennonite Centre. Some years ago this small Canadian organization established The Mennonite Centre in Ukraine with the goal of providing essential necessities of life to impoverished Ukrainians. With the onset of the war, the needs have increased. Because the Mennonite Centre has Ukrainian people doing the day to day work, they have an intimate understanding of what people need. They have also developed relationships with local groups, providing them with financial and other assistance.

Below is a recent update written by George Dyck to help readers understand the plight of those directly impacted by the war.

Mennonite Centre in Molochansk, Ukraine

Update #90 February 9, 2023

Our partners from Uman Help Center go to the South, to the deoccupied villages of Kherson oblast on a regular basis. The last visit was to two villages Chervona Zorya and Tavriyske. These villages are almost destroyed. Still, most of the people are not planning to leave. They hope to restore their homes and continue to live in the area. Pastor Dmytro and his team are connected with the leadership of the community and coordinate their activities with them. Thus, they try to be as effective as possible. They know what the need is and bring the most necessary things. It’s a very wise approach and works very well.

This time besides flashlights and blankets they brought pots and kettles. It’s February. Spring is coming. And my guess seeds will be of great demand very soon. People in many villages live without electricity for seven months. So, flashlights and candles are in big demand.

Warm blankets, pillows are also very needed, because many villages are partially destroyed. It means that some people lost their houses with most of their belongings. After the de-occupation the head of the community got a generator from the government. This is the only place in the village where people can charge their cell phones and other equipment. We talked with the pastor Dmitriy from Uman, who delivered all those items to people.

We wanted to understand the atmosphere in the village, how people are going though all these hardships. The pastor said that people are different, and their attitudes are different, as everywhere in the world I guess, but people are very grateful and positive and they are strongly determined to rebuild their village. Life goes on.

If you wish to donate then please visit our website http://www.mennonitecentre.ca/ and click on the donate tab. To donate by e-transfer please use the email address gtdyck@gmail.com and please include your postal address in a note accompanying the transfer so I can issue a tax receipt to you. Thank you!! Your support is appreciated!

 

 

Hedley Fundraiser for Terry Wells

photo by Terrence Wells

When Terry Wells woke early last Wednesday, he realized immediately his life was in danger. He had gone back to bed after loading his wood stove. Apparently it over heated and a thick cloud of smoke was hanging in the air, scarcely two feet above his head. His camper home had caught fire and he knew the place would quickly be engulfed in flames. “I crawled to the door,” he said later. “The smoke was so thick, I was sure if I took another breath I would die.” Scantily clad, he emerged into the cold winter air. On bare feet in the snow that still covered the ground, he watched his home explode into flames. Virtually everything he owned was quickly enveloped in fire and black smoke.

My shed caught fire,” he said. “I had ammunition and propane tanks in there. They exploded and the force blew me across the yard. I was in shock. I couldn’t think.”

Fortunately his son Terrence lives on the same property and he quickly came to look for him. Seeing Terry’s dog still tethered to the shed, he released it, thereby saving it from certain death. Due to the intense heat, he wasn’t able to save the dog house.

Hedley Fire Chief Bill Rube arrived, but the fire was outside the department’s jurisdiction. He was there to ensure no one was in danger. The police also showed up, apparently at least in part to determine whether this was a case of arson. When a bullet exploded in the still burning shed, the officer decided he had all the information he needed.

photo by Dian McKusick

Later that day Terry visited our neighours Tap and Dian. Knowing Tap is skilled in working with wood, he asked him to build a new dog house. Dian offered to cook the meat that had survived in his freezer. Others in the community also wanted to help. The Upper Similkameen Indian Band immediately provided funds so Terry could buy new clothes. The Hedley Hall and the Hedley Community Centre joined forces to put on a fund raiser. Sixty five tickets were sold and many of us enjoyed a delicious spaghetti and meat balls dinner. The Hedley church has committed to a cash donation. Individuals have also promised to contribute, including some who live here only part time.

Watching this drama unfold, I’m again impressed by the way the people of our community often choose to stand by individuals in the midst of trauma and adversity. We seem to understand that to live here, somewhat removed from the rest of society, we cannot think only of our own needs. One day we may also hope our neighbours will stand by us.

photo by Terrence Wells

 

 

The Ambulance Ride

I considered myself fortunate to be in the care of Paramedic Tim Roberts of Keremeos.

The Ambulance Ride

If Hedley had a newspaper, my photo and name would almost certainly have been on the front page last Thursday. It wasn’t that I had done something remarkable, but when an ambulance arrives in town people take note. Because Hedley is a small community, we know most people here and immediately wonder who the ambulance has come for. On Thursday I was that someone.

This little “adventure” began when I awoke and instructed my body to exit the bed. I had things to accomplish and it was time to get moving, but my body seemed to not comprehend. When there was no response I was puzzled and troubled. What was causing this sluggishness? Had I suffered a stroke while sleeping?

My dread of strokes had settled upon me during the six years my dad was in a long term care facility in Abbotsford. Every time I visited him I saw lonely, incapacitated individuals, some of whom had been confined by a stroke to a wheelchair or bed. I was appalled at their state of helplessness and since then I’ve committed to doing whatever possible to avoid such a calamitous outcome. For years each morning Linda and I have begun our day with 45 minutes of stretches and exercises. In the late afternoon we walk around the perimeter of Hedley one or more times. In the evening I do a brief workout with light weights. I limit my coffee intake to one cup per day, drink little alcohol and have never smoked.

Lying in my bed that morning, I felt betrayed by my body. If this was what I feared, our idyllic lives in Hedley would never be the same.

These thoughts had free rein while I struggled toward the edge of the bed. With considerable effort I managed to place my feet on the floor, then by holding on to furniture wobbled toward a chair. When I tried to sit down I barely avoided crashing to the floor.

Call 911,” I whispered to Linda. “Something has happened. I may have had a minor stroke.”

About half an hour later an ambulance arrived and I was heartened to see that one of the paramedics was our friend Tim Roberts. He helped me to our front door where another paramedic waited with a stretcher. Bereft of strength, I slumped into the stretcher and they carried me to the ambulance. Tim immediately affixed wires connecting me to a monitor. “This is to provide preliminary information for the hospital,” he explained. He asked a series of questions including “what day of the month is it today?” I guessed wrong. He also instructed me to smile. I would again be asked similar questions by nurses at the hospital.

If you don’t find anything negative,” I said, “are you going to let me out of here?” Without pausing, Tim said, “no, we’re going to the hospital.” It wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

Lying on the narrow cot with Tim at my side conducting tests, all I could do was think about the implications of this unwelcome development. I recalled my desire on my 80th birthday to finish strong. Linda and I have always sought to make a positive contribution to our community and I had hoped we’d be able to continue. And now this.

At the hospital there were more tests. Several nurses checked on me during the day and each asked what day of the month it was.(I was tempted to ask if the hospital didn’t have a calendar). They also instructed me to smile.

In the meantime, several neighbours offered to drive Linda to the hospital. Someone had my name added to the local church’s prayer list. A friend in Pt. Alberni called. Other calls indicated that people were concerned and wanted to stand by us.

At the end of a long day they did a CT Scan and then a doctor informed me the tests did not indicate a stroke. My body was beginning to function with less distress and Linda showed up to take me home. We agreed the episode was likely due to an unfamiliar sleep medication.

The experience certainly rattled me but was it a wasted day? Hardly. For me it was a reminder that life can be devastated in a moment. Life is too precious to be frittered away by complacency. I need to attend to important matters before my time runs out.

This incident occurred January 12, 2023, due to a computer glitch I was unable to post it until now.