Land Acknowledgement (For Mount Pleasant)

In the chronicle of human endeavour there is no story more inspiring, no tale more romantic, than that of the resourceful, courageous people whose initiative and energy, peacefully, and in the briefest period of time, created out of the silent emptiness of dark primeval forests, a monumental city of beauty and of culture; an achievement in world history which must forever interest the peoples of all nations.
With jealous care alone should this splendid record be preserved.
J.S. Matthews
Kitsilano Beach
March 1932

I: Mount Pleasant

Begin this event score anywhere convenient in the neighbourhood of Mount Pleasant, Vancouver. Find a spot outside. Have a seat. Throughout the score, directions will be set normally, while information, to be read and reflected on as one performs the score, will be indented.

Indigenous peoples have lived on this hill over the wet flats since time immemorial. The Squamish people were the most prominent and frequent users of this area. That name is an anglicization of Skwxwú7mesh, pronounced squ-HO-o-meesh.

Practice saying this name. Squ-HO-o-meesh. If needed, clap a 4/4 pattern with the first beat falling on HO to help you say the name with the accent on the correct syllable. If this is not needed, do it anyway, just for how it sounds.

The earliest translations of Skwxwú7mesh into English are “strong wind” and “people of the sacred water.” The nation itself translates Skwxwú7mesh to “the Squamish people.” You are in the southern corner of the Skwxwú7mesh territory. It stretches nearly 200 km north of here. 

The Musqueam people who lived on the point to the west also used and cared for this land. Again, that word is not the original. Xʷməθkʷəy̓əm is the name of the people, and also of the place they lived. Xʷməθkʷəy̓əm means place of the məθkʷəy̓, a flowering plant that grows along the river, south of where you are. Xʷməθkʷəy̓əm is pronounced h-MUTH-kuh-yum, with a glottal stop just after the y. 

Practice saying this name. H-MUTH-kuh-yum. If needed, move your hand up and down in a two-beat conducting pattern, making sure the first beat, MUTH gets the accent, but the second beat, yum, has enough time to pronounce the glottal stop. If this is not needed, do it anyway. Do the words carry the rhythm, or do you?

The Xʷməθkʷəy̓əm territory includes all the lands and waters south to river and beyond it, and all the lands and waters north to the inlet and past that.

Tsleil-Waututh, the common name you’ve heard before, is actually the word the people use for themselves. They began to use it in all official documentation after decades of wearing the moniker “Burrard Inlet Indians.” Tsleil-Waututh means “people of the inlet.” Their territory covers that inlet entirely, and reaches out about 60 km south and over 100 km north. Tsleil-Waututh is pronounced SAIL-wha-tooth.

Practice saying this name. SAIL-wha-tooth. There are no stops in this word. Pronounce it as if it were marked with a tie across the phrase.

The Stó:lō people are not formally recognized as indigenous people of the city you are in. Though their main villages and centres are further up the valley, this is considered by many to be part of their traditional territory. Stó:lō means “people of the river.” Their territory stretches from near the river’s headwaters all the way to its mouth, just south of here. Stó:lō is pronounced STAW-lo. 

Practice saying this name. STAW-lo. The first vowel should be long. Take your time. Imagine you were directed to speak it at an adagio.

The Stz’uminus people have always lived mostly on the coast of the island. Where you are marks the eastern most part of their lands, though they commonly travel all the way up the river to its headwaters. The Stz’uminus were long called the Chemainus, an English misrecording of their name. Stz’uminus means “bitten breast.” It is pronounced STU-mee-nis.

Practice saying this name. STU-mee-nis.

In the 1880s, Henry V. Edmonds owned 640 acres in this area probably including where you sit now. In 1888 he named the land he owned Mount Pleasant, after the village his wife was born in. That village sits between the slightly larger villages of Crockagranny and Ballyboy in County Tyrone, Ireland. At the time, it was expected that the area would become the city’s wealthy and fashionable uptown district, overlooking downtown below. That did not pan out. Mount Pleasant is pronounced MAUW-nt PLEZ-ent

Practice saying this name. MAUW-nt PLEZ-ent. Clap, conduct, or mark as needed.

II: Old Growth

For this section, make sure you have a pencil and paper. Lie down on the ground. How tall are you? Imagine your height is the diameter of a tree. There is a registry of all the largest trees in this province. A tree with a diameter of my height wouldn’t crack the top two hundred. How high do you think you would rank? 

The provincial government claims nearly one quarter of the old growth forest remains intact. An independent report from April 2020 put the number under 3%. 

Write a list of every sound you hear. Where do these sounds come from? Listen closely. Do your best to note the source of each sound. 

Imagine a tree as wide as you are tall, growing where you lie. You are surrounded entirely by its trunk. You are a tree (Red Cedar? Douglas Fir? Western Hemlock?) surrounded by thousands of other trees. You are not out of place or particularly large, trunks even bigger than you aren’t unusual. Is this tree made up? It’s probable that a tree like it stood exactly here at some point, two, three, four hundred years ago. You’re not an imaginary tree, you’re a time traveller. 

What does it sound like to be a time traveling tree? Which sounds from your list are constant? Which change over time? How do the sensations change as your surroundings change? Where are you now? 

You hear a voice. 

“How long does it take a tree to grow that big?”
“A long time. Centuries, maybe.”
“Will they ever grow like that again? In our lifetimes?”
“Definitely not in our lifetimes. Probably not ever.”

That time is over. You ended it. Maybe not you, but your ancestors. Maybe not your personal ancestors, but someone under their flag. Maybe not under their flag exactly, but in the same spirit. Maybe not the same spirit, but the fact remains.

You are here because the old growth is gone.

Stand up. Brush yourself off if necessary. Begin walking in the direction of 11th and St George.

III: Sidewalks

While you walk, pausing when you feel like it, read the following. 

In the 1920s and 30s, Major JS Matthews worked for the City of Vancouver’s archives. While there, he compiled a seven volume account of the city’s early days, mostly made up of interviews and correspondence with elderly indigenous people and settlers. The note that begins this score is the opening of that account. 

out of the silent emptiness of dark primeval forests, a monumental city of beauty and of culture

In the span of only a few decades, the forest was methodically cleared, levelled, and developed. Made unrecognizable. The lands, waters, and peoples were civilized - before then, they were something else.

an achievement in world history which must forever interest the peoples of all nations.
With jealous care alone should this splendid record be preserved.

You are walking along a paved sidewalk. What do your footsteps sound like? Between the soles of your shoes and the surface of the concrete, you and the ground are making sound together. What is it like? What is the timbre of this instrument? How do changes in your movement affect the sound?

The sidewalks in this area were laid by groups of imprisoned people, assigned to work on behalf of the city. The nephew of Mr. Clough, the man in charge of the operation, remembers it like this:

“The chain gang was a gang of prisoners which consisted of any prisoner who had been sentenced to three or four months or so imprisonment, and I recall as recently as 1900 or perhaps later seeing the wagon in which they were taken to work every day, coming at a snail’s pace up the main streets of Vancouver … The men sat lengthwise on seats, John Clough driving, picks and shovels with them; a mournful spectacle, but apparently a happy body of men from outside appearances … The chain gang worked on the construction of our lanes; they must have constructed a very large number in the West End, Fairview, Mount Pleasant, and the East End west of Grandview … My recollection is that Mr. Clough treated them very kindly; he may have carried a rifle or revolver, but it was never seen; the men wore leg irons.”

The first sidewalks here were made of wooden planks. How would your footsteps sound walking on them?

Musqueam Chief Joe Capilano, father of the “brilliant light,” Chief Mathias Joe, visited the English King Edward in Buckingham Palace in 1906 or 1907. The main concern was the matter of Indian land grievances. After that conversation, Chief Capilano said to Edward, 

“Then, there is another matter I wish to enquire about. My people sometimes do wrong, policemen fine them, policemen say they do it for you, that you want the money. What I want to know is, do you want the money?”

Edward replied, “yes, I do, and thank you very much.”

Prior to the miraculous civilizing of early Vancouver, indigenous people had never worked in a wage economy. In order to pay fines, buy goods, live on their ancestral lands, cash had to be obtained. Many indigenous peoples moved into mills and canneries. Those same people often left the mills and canneries when there were more important matters to attend to, continuing to care for the seasonal needs of their lands, waters, and communities. That gained them a reputation for being lazy and unreliable. 

They did this so they could pay fines, and if they couldn’t, they laid your sidewalks. “Apparently a happy body of men,” they wore leg irons, and Mr Clough might have carried a revolver. Indigenous ways of life may clothe, feed, and fulfill a person, their community, and their surroundings, but there’s no cash involved to avoid Mr Clough and the sidewalks.

What would your footsteps sound like on a trail through old growth? What does the silent emptiness sound like? Is it silent? Is it empty?

IV: The Creek

When you reach 11th and St George, stand on the Northeast corner. There is an inscription scratched into the pavement. Read it.

Around a hundred years ago, this was one of many creeks running down the hillside into the brackish water below. Around 1900 a skid road (one of the muddy routes used to pull logs away from where they were felled) came down the hill somewhere between here and St Catherines St, and the horses and oxen that pulled the lumber would have drunk from the water here. One of the creeks was used as a water source for the breweries just Northwest of here. The area was called Brewery Creek for a long time. Maybe this was Brewery Creek itself - everyone who knows is long gone. 

Ducks, bracken ferns, salmonberries. Do you know what each of these is? Even if you don’t, imagine what each is. What do they look like? Feel like? How would you live next to them? What sound would they make when water droplets fell into the creek? What would they taste like?

In 1903, salmon rotted on the beaches because fishermen caught so many they couldn’t sell them. Before the last century, salmon swam up the creeks here as far as 8th Avenue. Interviewed in 1932, Chief August Haatsalano (then 56) remembered how the Skwxwú7mesh ate before white settlement.

As Chief August describes each food, think of where around you it would come from.

“Whitemans food change everything. Indians had plenty food long ago, but I could not do without tea and sugar now. Them days, Indians not want tea and sugar; know nothing about it. Lots meat, bear, deer, beaver; cut meat up in strips and dry, no part wasted, not even the guts. Clean out the guts, fill him up with something good, make sausage, just like whitemans; only head wasted, throw head away. Then salmon. Plenty salmon, sturgeon, flounder, trout, lots all sorts fish, some sun dry, some smoke dry. Indian know which best wood for smoke dry; lots crab and clam on beach.

“Then berries. Indian woman know how to dry berries, dry lots berries, just like raisins. Dry them first, then press in pancakes, make them in blocks like pancakes, about three pounds to block, stack cakes in high pile in house; when want cook, break piece off. Elderberry put in sack, you know Indian sack; put sack in creek so clean water run over them and keep them fresh. By and by get sack out of creek, take some berry out, put sack back again. Oh, lots of berries ‘til berries come again.

“Then vegetables and roots. Indian woman gather vegetables and roots. Woman dig roots with sharp stick, down deep, sometimes four feet, follow root with stick, break off; some very nice for eating, some make white flour powder, some dry for winter. Oh, lots of food those days. I think maybe three thousand, perhaps more, Indians live around Vancouver those days.

“But whitemans food change everything. Everywhere whitemans goes he change food, China, other place, he always change food where he goes.

“I was born at Snauq, the old Indian village under the Burrard bridge. When I little boy, I listen old people talk. Old people say Indians see first whitemans up near Squamish. When they see first ship they think it an island with three dead trees, might be schooner, might be sloop, two masts and bowsprit, sails tied up. Indian braves in about twenty canoes come down Squamish river, go see. Get nearer, see men on island, men have black clothes with high hat coming to point at top, think most likely black uniform and great coat turned up collar like priest’s cowl. Whitemans give Indians ship’s biscuit; Indian not know what biscuit for. Before whitemans come Indians have little balls, not very big, roll them along ground shoot at them with bow and arrow for practice, teach young Indians so as not to miss deer; just the same you use clay pigeon. Indian not know ship’s biscuit good to eat, so roll them along ground like little practice balls, shoot at them, break them up.” 

If you had to feed yourself off the land, would you know how? Even if you knew how, would it be possible? Listen. Do you hear the creek below you? Is it still here? Do you hear the berries leaning over the water, the salmon swimming upstream just a few city blocks away? 

The Tsleil-Waututh say that “When the tide went out, the table was set.”

V: Skwachice

Walk down 11th towards False Creek. Remember you are walking over the creek; be careful not to get sucked into the current. Aim for the Main St-Science World Station. Take whatever route you like.

Listen to the levels of sounds you hear. From the smaller sounds of the neighbourhood to the rushing traffic on Broadway. Pay attention to each dynamic shift.

When you reach the station, tap in (if it is not financially prohibitive) and go up to the platform. Find a spot to sit looking North. 

You are now looking over Kiwahusks. Andrew Paull, Skwxwú7mesh elder, translated the name as “place of narrow passage; literally, ‘two points exactly opposite.’’” Chief August Kitsilano pronounced it he-whaasks, though some Skwxwú7mesh people pronounce it as three syllables, closer to he-wha-usks. Before the late 1910s, the area to your right was all mudflats, with these two points the only spot narrow enough to build a bridge and cross. 

Look South for a moment - Main St curves slightly West behind you. The point it was first built on was not perfectly straight, so the road was forced to bend. Though surrounded by flat land now, it still kinks the wrong way; too much bother to straighten it out.

Look North again. The opposite points of Kiwahusks, once around a block ahead of you, was in the 1890s owned by the Sentell brothers. Their sister, only identified in the archives by her husband’s name, lived there as well. As she describes the place in her memory, try to see the changes that have brought Kiwahusks to the street it is now. 

“When I first saw that point on False Creek, it was covered with vine maples, wild crab apples, wild peas, salal berries, and a profusion of blackberries; we went there to pick blackberries in 1889; it looked as though there might have been an old Indian encampment there, and I have been told that there was an Indian medicine ditch there, a sort of Indian Turkish bath, where in a hole in the ground they sweated themselves to cure a cold or ailment by putting hot stones in the water and sitting beneath a covering enclosed over it.” 

This is confirmed by archaeological records; it doesn’t seem anyone ever asked the Skwxwú7mesh themselves whether they ever had any medical or healing structures there.

“It was nothing when we went there; the bush was so thick you could not get through it. Our house, which was in the centre of block 109, faced south, looked over the waters of the creek, was slightly elevated on a bank which sloped gently down to the beach, and a popular bathing resort in summer time. The city promised my brother it would become a park; it was a delightful spot; he went ahead and cleared it, cleared the whole crescent at his own expense, spent an immense amount of time on it, put down a sidewalk, planted apple trees to the west of our house, cherries to the east, built a fine home, and for years it was an outstanding landmark for it was large and was painted white, and showed up well in the beautiful surroundings of green, and he was promised it would be a park, and never anything else; we had cut it out of the bush.

“Then all our hopes were dashed. First they put a septic tank for city sewers; we did all we could to stop it, but it was put in and finished. Finally it was wanted for Canadian Northern Railway yards; my brothers got $100,000 for one acre in the ex-appropriation proceedings. The fine old house was torn down in 1912.”

Can you make out where her house once stood? Or the forest surrounding it, at once an empty nothingness and a brush so thick it barred her entry? What about the medicine centre? What remnants might be found?

Anything?

Leave the station. Walk into Thornton Park below, find a spot to sit facing the train station. Sitting on the grass is best, but if you can’t find a spot where the geese haven’t pooped the benches are fine. 

You are looking into the filled-up heart of Skwachice. Skwachice, or ‘deep hole in water,’ was the clear, freshwater spring in the centre of the mudflats. It is usually pronounced “skwa-chiss,” although there are differing opinions.

Andrew Paull translated Skwachice to ‘water spring, or water coming up from ground beneath.’ A woman recorded for all eternity as “Mrs. Sanderson, Indian” said it meant “water coming out of the ground from beneath, rising up from the bottom don’t know why it does.”

Geologists tried to find the reason, and decided the prehistoric bed of the river ran right across here. The gravel beneath the ground allows water to seep this direction from the big lake about 10 km Southeast of here. Skwxwú7mesh elder Que-yah-chulk (recorded as “Dick Isaacs, one-armed Indian”) knew decades before the geologists double-checked him.

“Skwa-chice, no more Skwa-chice,” he told Matthews, “they fill him up now, make C.N.R. Yards, big hole one time, where we used to get the sturgeon all the time. Great big deep hole, very big, up head False Creek, tunnel under creek, fresh water come up, come from Lake Coquitlam. The way they know, Indians find salt water seaweed up Lake Coquitlam; that’s the way they tell, seaweed gets up there through tunnel under Skwa-chice.”

Look West. Between 1917 and 1923, the city and the rail company dredged that section of False Creek to make a deeper harbour. Turn back to the train station. 

The mud was used to build up Granville Island, and the rest to fill in Skwachice. Skwachice was bigger than that, they had to fill from here all the way to Clark, and from Prior South to Great Northern Way. After they ran out of dirt, garbage was used to fill Skwachice. When he was level enough, the rail yards were built on top, and the monumental station to mark them.

Listen. Get your pencil and paper out again.  Write down every sound you hear. Start with the pointed, interjecting sounds, those with clear beginnings, endings, and sources. People speaking. Cars honking. Geese honking back. Focus on these noises until you feel you can hear them completely. 

Next, move to the more constant sounds. Traffic rushing. Trees in the breeze. Trains coming in.

Next, the quietest sounds. Feathers rustling. Someone moving objects in their hands. Individual leaves falling.

Once you feel really sure, move on to the last layer of sounds. These sounds you may not even hear. The berries that grew along the banks. The sandy beach. Fresh water gurgling through the ground, making its way to the ocean. Can you hear Skwachice?

The water here has been mourned by many. You never met this water, it was covered over a hundred years ago. Still, whether acknowledged or not, it has power. Sea level rise projections say that it won’t take another hundred years for Skwachice to come back. 

Pay your respects to Skwachice, the giant returning. When you find yourself East of Main, West of Clark, South of Prior, and North of Great Northern Way, remember you walk on borrowed land. When the water comes back, how will your life be changed?

VI: Listening Forward

Turn around again. Walk across the street to Science World. Walk around to the Western side on the water. 

Listen again. This time, throw your senses as far forward in time as you can. Listen for possibilities. Listen for what to do now. 

To beat back colonialism (of which you, as settler, are an agent) in your own thinking and listening is important. More important is to take specific, pointed action in your community. The practices that lead to largely indigenous prisoners building our sidewalks - fines, over policing - and the removal of food sources - lack of indigenous control over land and water - have only grown stronger. In order to complete your performance of this event score, it is required that you give of time or money directly to indigenous peoples.

The water that flows here underground from the lake starts its journey on the big hill above that lake. Now, it’s called Burnaby Mountain. The construction of a pipeline threatens the safety of that water, and all the people who live along it. The Skwxwú7mesh and Tsleil-Waututh nations have active filings against the project with the National Energy Board. The Stó:lō have a filing on behalf of several bands that are part of their nation. The Xʷməθkʷəy̓əm had a filing which has since been withdrawn for negotiations. 

As you stand above the water, it is recommended that your action, if financial, go towards stopping that pipeline. Kwitsel Tatel, a Stó:lō activist who helped maintain the sacred fire on Burnaby Mountain for several years, recommends that as many people as possible donate to the legal fund of the Tiny House Warriors. They are a group of Secwepemc women who blocked pipeline construction upriver, drawing attention to the environmental costs as well as the heightened violence against indigenous women that comes with these construction projects.

But if you turn to look North, you’ll stare into the heart of the opioid epidemic, a wave which only grows, and kills indigenous people over four times more often than non-indigenous people. The Vancouver Area Network of Drug Users has existed since 1998. Their current president, Lorna Bird, is Metis, and several of their subgroups address indigenous people’s needs. 

Turning again, Northeast, you look towards Strathcona Park, where Camp KT (short for Kennedy Trudeau) has been stationed since leaving Crab Park earlier this year. Indigenous people make up two and a half percent of the population of Vancouver, and one third of the homeless population. If you do not have financial resources to donate, your time is even more valuable. Calls can be found across social media for help disinfecting donations or for members of the public to speak or write to city council. The Red Braid Alliance may be one place to refer to, but Instagram is more likely to have recent information.

Turn West, to the water. Look for the second bridge. 

Underneath that bridge is a sand bar. The sand bar was reinforced and raised with gravel and mud dredged from under your feet to make a thing called Granville Island. On the provincial registry for big trees, the closest entry to you right now is on that man-made island. It is a Black Hawthorn, half a meter across. 

There will not be “old growth” again, certainly not while you’re here. There never was a singular old growth. There was a time of big trees, but no snapshot that lasted. The Xʷməθkʷəy̓əm, Skwxwú7mesh, Tsleil-Waututh, Stó:lō, and Stz’uminus grew and changed, as did the forests and the creeks. There is not a singular ideal moment to return to, nor would it be possible to get there. When Skwachice comes back, it will be different water.

You can greet that water now. You can clear the way for its return.

Sources

Canada Energy Regulator, “Court Challenges to Canada Energy Regulator or Governor in Council Decisions:” https://www.cer-rec.gc.ca/en/applications-hearings/court-challenges/ind… 

CBC News, “Disproportionate number of Black, Indigenous, Latin people counted in Metro Vancouver homeless survey:” https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/vancouver-homeless-coun…

City of Vancouver, “Mount Pleasant:” https://vancouver.ca/news-calendar/mount-pleasant.aspx 

Gordon Brent Brochu-Ingram, Still Underwater: http://www.gordonbrentingram.ca/stillunderwater/ 

Karen Price, Ph.D., Rachel F. Holt, Ph.D., R.P.Bio and Dave Daust R.P.F., M.Sc., “BC’s Old Growth Forest: A Last Stand for Biodiversity:” https://veridianecological.ca/publications/ 

Kwumut Lelum, “Member Nations:” https://www.kwumut.org/member-nations 

Major J.S. Matthews, “Early Vancouver:” https://archives.vancouver.ca/projects/EarlyVan/index.htm 

Musqueam Indian Band: https://www.musqueam.bc.ca/

Province of British Columbia, “BC Geographical Names: Squamish River:” https://apps.gov.bc.ca/pub/bcgnws/names/19702.html 

Province of British Columbia, “A Guide to the Pronunciation of Indigenous Communities and Organizations in BC:” https://www2.gov.bc.ca/gov/content/governments/indigenous-people/aborig… 

Squamish Nation: https://www.squamish.net/ 

Stó:lō Research and Resource Management Centre: http://digitalsqewlets.ca/language_resources-ressources_linguistiques-e… 

Tsleil-Waututh Nation: https://twnation.ca/ 

University of British Columbia Faculty of Forestry, “BC Big Tree Website:” https://bigtrees.forestry.ubc.ca/ 

Vancouver Sun, “Anti-pipeline protesters in Burnaby refuse to douse sacred fire and dismantle camp:” https://vancouversun.com/news/local-news/anti-pipeline-protesters-in-bu… 

Wendy John, “In Honour of Chief Joe Mathias:” https://www.squamish.net/chief-joseph-joe-william-mathais/ 

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Olivia Hall is a soon-to-be graduate of the UBC BA Honours program in Music. Born and raised in Vancouver, she started playing music in guitar classes at the Sarah McLachlan School of Music. At UBC, she has studied both art music and popular music, producing a research project on punk music as her honours essay. She is interested in how the music we carry with us interacts with the events and issues of our world.



 



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