Sisters

My two little sisters are a blessing and a curse. I have memories of their births, though some of the details get a little confused. I remember being woken up in the middle of the night and getting carried out to our old chevy pick up truck but I don’t know if my other sister was there. We never went for rides in the middle of the night, only for Christmas Eve Mass, so an outing such as this was not forgotten. The other memory I have is driving to the hospital with my dad and our cat Dax, again I don’t know if my other sister was there. This memory I think is the most important because it shows how unimportant the birth of a sister was to my child mind. We had arrived at the hospital and my mom was lying in bed. She might have been holding my new-born baby sister, or perhaps it was my dad. Then my mom had opened up a drawer, took out a box of smarties and gave me the box of treats. I was so happy about those smarties, nothing else mattered, and that is all I can remember. As a mother I can reflect on my mom’s choices during that night in the hospital so long ago, and I now understand  that I was most certainly being bribed.

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They were so cute back in the ’80s.

Our birth order certainly shaped our personalities; we were your typical trio. As the first born I always had to set an example for my little sisters, and consequently am a little tightly wound up. The middle child, Lynette, had to negotiate within the complicated power relations of our family, and is always wheeling and dealing. The youngest, Bernette, watched her older sisters make mistakes, and now has the “I’ll show them all” attitude. (I still don’t know why my parents went with the “ette”s. I could have been a really good Annette)

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Lynette preparing for our youngest sister’s wedding.

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Bernette giving me the “WTF Amanda?” look.

My sons love hearing me tell stories about my sisters and I growing up, especially the ones where there is fighting involved. I try telling them about how we played with my-little-ponies or pretended to be mermaids in the ditches near the railway tracks, but they prefer to hear about the sister fights. They like to know that we were bad kids too. Like, what kind of young girl in a fit of anger would decide to throw an empty porcelain sheep-shaped Avon perfume bottle at her sister’s head? And what kind of girls would tie up their youngest sister to a chair and then shut off the lights and leave her in the basement? Yeah, my sons love hearing about that one.

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Me and my sisters.

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I see a resemblance between my boys and my sisters when they were kids.

Being the eldest I still feel responsible for my sisters. Sometimes I wonder if my eldest son feels this for his younger brother or not? He is growing up in a very different kind of family than the one that my sisters and I had to deal with. I am providing my boys with a safe and loving environment where they don’t need to protect each other in the home. Growing up I had to watch out for my sisters all the time – the drinking brought out the worst in the adults. My mom did her best to protect us but she wasn’t always there.

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Thanksgive’r tableau.

As adults, we still act like those little girls when we get together. We love to laugh at each other. We break off into pairs, and whisper about the other sister behind her back. We talk about ex boyfriends and poke at old wounds that only we know are there. No one can hurt us like we can. My middle sister recently found out that her partner of 10 years was cheating on her. Her grief is heartbreaking but soon enough she will be back out there wheeling and dealing. Her pain is short term and nothing like the scars that us sisters have inflicted on each other. Those scars are there for us to pick at and to remind us that we are always sisters. This year my youngest sister married her partner with whom she’s been with forever, and now they are finally talking about starting a family, just for me, so I can be an aunty. Hahaha. Perhaps they will start another generation of sisters.

 

Over these years we’ve pushed and pulled each other but we know that we are sisters. We are family and we will always stand by each others sides, no matter what.

-xox your big sis, Amanda Laliberte

 

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A Campbell Christmas Montage

I am a Christmas person. I love the lights, I love the spirit of the holiday. I love visiting all my aunts and uncles and friends and having all the fancy Christmas cookies and dainties. For me, Christmas is about family and our traditions, about the laughter and love that comes from everyone coming together. I’m not so much bent on the religious aspects of the holiday, but I have no problem claiming the kinship part of it all.

When we were younger, we would spend Boxing Day at the Farm, by St. Louis, SK. My mom’s side of the family is small, so we would all cram inside Grandma’s house, play on frozen hay bales, go for sleigh rides, and eat the Christmas oranges she would try to hide from us. We were allowed one a day. We generally went through a box a day, ha. She would hide the box of oranges under her bed…. every year. And every year we found them. I remember meat pies and ketchup, and sweet little Eggo’s called la goufettes and

But in Beauval, we would go to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. And coming from the North, we are talking about a -35 kind of Christmas Eve. Like fancy dresses then skidoo pants over the fancy dresses kind of cold. And it was legit at midnight. We would have to sit through the hour-long Mass – sometimes more if we got the slow-talker Priest – and run back to the frozen car to warm up before driving back to the Rez to open up our gifts. Every now and then we would go to Patuanak for Midnight Mass – an hour away – and I remember hearing the hymns being sung in Dene and wearing my jacket inside the old, wooden church that had the doors open as the Church was so full people would stand outside to attend Mass. Once home, Mom and Dad would let us open our gifts, but only after Church and with the understanding that meant less gifts to open in the morning. And come Christmas morning, there was always a present from Santa and a stocking full of candy, oranges, peanuts and small toys.

Not too much has changed in how we celebrate Christmas nowadays. Our families have grown. Between snags and sweeties, life long partners and broken hearts, we have built up our family enough that Mom’s house is now much like Grandma Boyer’s house was back in the day – full of laughter and food, cousins and stories. My oldest brother has three boys and his long-time partner, my other brother and his wife have three girls, I have my daughter and my youngest brother brings a new sweetie every Christmas. She’s always interesting. The Christmas tree gets smaller as our present haul get bigger, and Mom tries something new with the stocking every few years to try and make ‘more room’ in our home.

A few years ago, we done away with buying each individual a Christmas Present and instead, draw names out of a hat. I protested loudly. I was outnumbered. Then Mom tried to get rid the stockings and I protested loudly – “Quit trying to ruin Christmas!” She laughed, told me Christmas is for our kids, not for us (“but Im YOUR kid,” I whispered loudly) and we compromised. For the stockings, we each buy a little thing for everyone and stuff the stockings that way. It works for us, and yeah…. the adult kids still get Santa gifts.

BECAUSE SANTA IS MAGIC, y’all.

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2009 // The Campbell Boys – my brothers and my first nephew, Colton. ❤ 

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2009 // How do you say “hella cold” in Dene?

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2010 // Having a baby around on Xmas is always magic 

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2011 // Mom losing it laughing when I forgot I was Santa. 

so, funny story:

Aerie was six months old on her first Christmas. I was living at home with my parents and my partner at the time, and it was heaven. So much help and support. Anyways, we did the Xmas shopping, the holiday baking, blah blah blah. All the usual. We went to Midnight Mass with Aerie, and we opened our family presents when we got back.  So the morning comes, and we rush upstairs, because we are still kids at heart. Tal and my partner and myself all have Santa presents and we’re super happy, then I look around for Aerie’s.

“Mom,” I question. “Where’s Aerie’s Santa gift?”

Mom gave me a look. “What do you mean?”

“Where’s her gift? I don’t see it.” I was looking around and feeling really sad, as it was my baby’s first Christmas.

“Tenille,” Mom said, doing her choking-and-crying-because-I’m-holding-back-a-laugh face, “YOU’RE SANTA. You are Santa to your own daughter.”

“… NO ONE TOLD ME I WAS SANTA!”

Mom laughed so hard that day, and she still laughs when she thinks about it and tries to tell someone the story.

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2011 // Tal holding his goddaughter because she didn’t have a Santa gift + Grandparents came through with a great gift from them ❤ 

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2012 / my newest nephew Connor joined us that Christmas, and Uncle Trent got to put together all the lego’s 

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2012 / we play Aggravation when we’re home. We play for quarters and we aren’t allowed on our phones  – “pay attention we get told – and it’s very, very serious. 

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2013 // there are no Santa gifts unless someone writes him a letter 

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2013 // we moved to stocking bags now, as the stocking socks were getting too full. Mom made all these. 

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2014 // Connor, Kelry and Aerie playing outside on Christmas.

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2014 // when she’s a hunter too // Trent, Darla + TK

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2015 // a quiet Christmas with us and the girls at Mama’s house

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2016 // I got Dad a cup with a sloth on it as he loves the sloth in Zootopia // my favorite Christmases are the ones when we are all there (with Sheylee, Trent, mom and Darla) 

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2016 // Blueberry Cheesecake and La Goufettes. Holiday traditions. 

But for me, my absolute favourite tradition is the one where we make all our kids sit and take a Campbell Kids picture.

Mom used to do this with us – she also used to dress us alike – so we have no pity on our babies. Despite – or maybe because of – the crying faces because they are tired and the scared faces because we are all staring at them and the annoyed faces because they are over this – this is my favourite event of the day. I get to see my babies growing older, I get to see our family grow, and we all get to continue a tradition that our kids will look back at and go “remember this Christmas?

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2013

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2014

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2015

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2016

– 

tenille campbell

Art, Inspiration & Fashion – April Johnson, Guest Blogger

Fall is in full swing, and I couldn’t be happier about it! Summer is great and all, but the older I get I realize I’m more productive in the colder months, and kinda like being a homebody! So yeah, I’m looking forward to getting i*sh done, but will definitely make
time to also step out in Vancouver to take in the beautiful fall colors!

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When I’m getting into ‘the zone,’ I’ve got my routine down – steep the tea, throw on the moccasins and sweats and light my favorite cedar incense. All this usually gets me ready to pour my heart into my photos, scripts and film ideas.

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However, over the past few weeks, I’ve been looking over in admiration at other artists more than I’ve been looking within, and although I want to get sit, sip and bring my ideas to fruition, I also want to celebrate the success of some kick-ass ladies working hard at that they love. Really, these ladies deserve a shout out!

Two people I’ve looked over to and found inspiration from are Joleen Mitton, Founder of Vancouver International Fashion Week (VIFW) and activist and filmmaker Rose Stiffarm. I met up with both ladies in Vancouver to discuss staying focused on art, inspiring others and indigenous fashion.

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April: What advise would you give to youth about staying focused and following their artistic interests?

Rose: I know that some of my mentors in the arts have told me to keep practicing; you’re only going to get better… and if one art form doesn’t work our for you, there’s always other art forms out there to help express yourself. I think a lot of what’s wrong out there in society is that we keep a lot of our emotions inside and we don’t have a way to express ourselves, but it’s important.

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April: What about your personal style? How do you feel fashion helps you express yourself?

Rose: I definitely look to trends to see what’s out there for fashion, but I don’t let it dictate what I wear. I add to it with other pieces that reflect more so who I am. It feels like myself isn’t necessarily reflected in mainstream fashion, and so it’s nice to have my own spin on things, and I noticed that because of that, I end up having a lot more interactions with strangers. In a way, it’s more about being seen in a society where we we’re not always seen.

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 Joleen Mitton, portrait by Thosh Collins

April: What inspired you to start Vancouver Indigenous Fashion Week?

Joleen: I was a model for a long time, since I was 15 years old. I was working in really shallow industry and then come out of it and worked for the community; I was becoming really drained because I was a frontline worker for a long time. So I really wanted to do something with both my frontline work and my fashion identity from before, because both didn’t really fit my personality, but put together, they did. So, being able to help my community without draining my emotions with intergenerational trauma was something I was trying to do.

April: What fuels your ambition?

Joleen: A combination of things, like me making Canada native again…making it a safe space for First Nations to be in the city is really one of my main focuses. I’m trying to create native spaces all the time and I can’t help it. Making sure that the next generation coming up is comfortable in Canada, because it’s unceded territory is very important. The only way that we’re gonna survive is if we keep on doing stuff like that.

April: If you could describe Indigenous Fashion in a few words, how would you describe it?

Joleen: I might need more than a couple words, but: visibility, resilience, artisanship, reclaiming…

April: Any words of wisdom for youth about staying focused?

Joleen: Yes, I guess ‘don’t give up!’ (Laughs) I’ve noticed this with a lot of youth, some are great right out the gate, but sometimes it takes until you’re 30 to really get all your ducks in a row. And so it’s never too late to go get what you want. But do it slow, don’t do it fast, because once you do it fast, I feel like that’s when people slip up the most. Work on your relationships and work on yourself, and don’t take the fast road, take the slow road. It took 7 years to make VIFW. I feel that if you go at a slow pace and do things in an honorable way, and have the right relationships and nurture those relationships, you can succeed in anything. You don’t appreciate things you get quickly. You millennials out there stop that (laughs).

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— See what I mean? These ladies are great, and it’s awesome they’re sharing their gifts (and their wisdom) with the world. Just re-reading their interviews has me motivated to get crackin’ on the creative ideas buzzing in my head. With that said, I’ll gotta get to work!

 — april johnson


April Johnson is of Metis/Cree (Muskoday First Nation) and Settler ancestry and currently resides in Vancouver. She attended the Indigenous Independent Digital Film Program (IIDF) at Capilano University and has been working in media and independent film since 2015. Her interests include screenwriting, photography and promoting Indigenous women’s health. // stay in touch and connect: web: apriljohnson.net // insta: @aprilej

Laugh with me

Since my family and I moved from Alert Bay to Victoria, all I’ve been thinking about is how much I miss laughing with my friends up island. My first week back in the city I was texting them and telling them that people weren’t laughing at my stories. I was never much of a story teller but something in me changed. I learned a few things about living in a small community during my three years in Alert Bay, and the most important teaching that I picked up is that shit happens and we are all in it together so let’s laugh about it.

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I remember the laughter of my relatives in Saskatchewan. Most of the time we laughed because someone was being teased. I close my eyes and I can see my aunties with their eyes squinted, heads titled up to the sky with big smiles, I hear their cackles and I smell their cigarettes. It didn’t matter who was being teased; we all laughed, especially the one being teased.

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When I was little, my dad was always away working up North and my mom didn’t have very much time to herself, between cleaning other peoples homes and taking care of my sisters and I. She had to bring us along to do everything with her. There were the lawyers and doctors homes that our mom cleaned while we vacuumed or daydreamed about living different lives. We went to the the bank where we were told to behave while all four of us stood and waited in the line, and eventually one of us would start to swing on the stanchions (my husband had to look that one up) and we’d either get a scowl from a back teller or our mother. And now I have the convenience of an ATM or doing my banking from home without distractions. She brought us along to the grocery store (I need to practice deep breathing to avoid loosing my shit when I take the boys to the grocery store) where we would be told that if we behaved we could have a free cookie from the bakery. In the days of no iPads or iPhones my mom would visit her friends at their homes and tell us to sit and behave, there were no electronic distractions. I remember that as I got older, I enjoyed listening to the adults talk and laugh. Their was Milli, who was like a kohkum and we all called her Milli Vanilli. She lived in a small apartment where we would look at the most recent items that she knitted or beaded. There my mother would learn how to make moccasins. I would listen to them talk about their week and notice when their voices became quiet which was when I tried harder to hear what they were talking about and then suddenly they would erupt in laughter. In the evenings we would go visit Leah. She was such a tiny lady with a huge personality, great hair and a big heart. She was always, always laughing; it was infectious. We would go to her place to visit but also to do some shopping. It was her place where my mom bought my very first and only pair of brand new Guess jeans, the pair with the ankle zippers. They were so cool and I wore them with my favourite purple silk blouse. Leah was earning her money on the side while my mom was trying to please her eldest daughter who refused to go shopping at the Sally Anne. Years later I learned that Leah died while being held in a prison cell in Saskatoon.

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In my circles we laugh, sometimes too much and I am told by a three year old that -we are too loud and that it is not funny. My laughter had always been loud but after living in Alert Bay, it is even louder. Not too sure how that is possible but it has happened. I always knew how to laugh but living in Alert Bay awoke something within me – I learned how to laugh like my aunties and grannies used to. We were always laughing. We laughed at everything and anything. If you were hurt, we laughed.  If you were sad, we laughed. If my husband told his “wing wing” joke, we laughed but not always. And its that laughter that allows us to survive even when we are hurting.

-Amanda Laliberte

seven years

It is a special day of reflection for myself and my husband. Another year has passed and we have survived another year together. You have no idea how difficult it really is being married to me, or being married to my handsome and smart husband for that matter. Seven years ago we were married in front of a quince tree where later I learned that my father put down tobacco and said a prayer for us on our wedding day. My parents marriage ended when I was in grade 7. My mother fled from my father while he was working up in Northern Saskatchewan. She left him for many good reasons but the most important one was to protect my sisters and I. And there we were, twenty years later, my mother, my father and my two younger sisters together to celebrate the union between my husband and I with our 16 month old son by our side. Both of our families and friends were there to witness us, well pretty much growing up.

Around this time last year I shared a post about how my husband and I met. You can read more here https://teaandbannock.com/2016/06/06/kisakihitin-you-are-loved-by-me/

Honestly, I don’t write very much about him on social media or on here because of his profession and out of respect because he is a private man. I still take a lot of photos of him though because I’ve been doing so for nearly 12 years. The thought makes me blush. As a young girl I knew who I was going to marry one day and it happened, even after years of making out with guys from around the world (yessss…. I have an international record and only two of them were indigenous), heartbreaks and just dating baaaad dudes. Oh and I must mention the English lad named Mike Hunt. No joke.

My husband and I are still learning how to be together. I wanted to share with everyone a few questions that I gave my husband for you the readers to get to know me a bit more. And it is a chance for me to see how well he knows me.

Which of my achievements am I most proud of?

  – I am worried about answering this question, as I feel that my response may be used to judge me at some future point. But I think that it may be our two sons, because they are pretty amazing and I am proud of them too.

Later in my adult life, I had an epiphany. Which comic book character from my youth did I realize strongly influenced my style?

  Veronica. Totally Veronica. I know this one.

What is my least favourite housework task?

  Hmmmm… taking out the garbage? or is it dishes? or is it vacuuming? or it is perhaps washing the floors?

What type of music do I secretly like?

  – Terrible late nineties house.

Which song do I sing when we argue?

  – Witney Houston’s “I will always love you”.

What was yelled at us by total strangers while we where out on our first date at Jericho Beach? Is this too personal sweetheart?

  – No, its not too personal. It was: “Hey look, there are some indians making out in the bushes!”

How did I spend my summers as a child?

  – Uhhhh… going to Batoche? 

*Note: this is the ONLY question that he didn’t answer correct. Yes, every year we went to the Back to Batoche Days but my fondest memories are of spending time with my mom’s family in Melfort and camping & fishing with my dad’s family in Northern Saskatchewan.

What kind of footwear was I wearing at our wedding during our first dance?

  – Moccasins.

When shouldn’t you talk to me?

  – Anytime in the morning, before you have had a coffee.

Which of your shirts do I dislike?

  – You dislike one of my shirts?

What kind of food makes me drool? Note: I considered leaving you and Elijah because neither of you like it but quickly realized it meant more for me.

  – Dried moose meat.

Why do I take so much time to get ready?

  – Because you have a double XX chromosome.

What song can always make me dance, especially when no one’s around?

  – I have no idea. I obviously am not around when you are dancing to it.

What’s a personality trait I dislike about myself, and I share with a parent?

  – Anything that your mother does that annoys you.

Am I related to Louise Riel?

  – Sure, why not.

Are you related to Louis Riel?

  – Again, for sure.

When we hug what do our kids and dogs do?

  – Try to get in the middle and break up our hug.

What made me fall in love with you?

  – Uhhh…hmmm… my cowboy boots? or my sweet personality? No, it was totally the cowboy boots.

You did good my  husband. xox

-Amanda Laliberte

she dances on northern lights

When I went to Vancouver last week-ish, I met up with my (now) good friend, Maddie. I had only previously met her at a wedding for a minute back in the day, but I was gonna crash on her couch because why not. I’ve been blessed in the past to be able to crash on new friend’s couches while travelling, and I knew that Maddie was originally from the North and we had multiple friends in common.

I got lost – of course – and pulled my massive suitcase into Maddie’s place, laughing as we awkwardly discussed how the trip was going. I’m not sure what broke the ice – it may have been her accent which is as thick as her hair (eeeee) – but once we started laughing and then coughing like old men, we quickly bonded and planned our photo session for the next day. Maddie is a talented dancer in multiple forms, but I really wanted to experiment with two ideas – a Métis Jigging Queen, and a more contemporary expression.

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I’ve always wanted to dance, and I’m still that kid out on the floor until the lights turn on, but once I saw the way Maddie could move – my heart ached even more for my lost dream. In a good way.

Maddie creates.

Maddie lives dance.

There was a fearlessness in her that I could appreciate, but never replicate. She gave me her all, and it was great to work with someone who trusted me to create my art while she did hers – making Indigenous magic happen.

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And because my creeper skills are great, I also contacted Elisha of @mua.nativebarbie after seeing some of her work on Instagram. She did this Coast Salish style on her face that had me thinking she could interpret what I wanted pretty easy. Elisha showed up, at first pretty quiet compared to Maddie and I, but as we went on – telling stories, snickering, coughing, sharing – Elisha started to laugh exactlyyyyyy like us. We’re a great influence.

And she slayedddddd her art.

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We were originally only going to the Métis Jigging creative session, but we had the opportunity to finish up with an oceanside session the day I left. We laughed over misheard words – “he thought your name was sweetPOON” – and I stood still for a second, listening to the Rez accents in a big city, the sweet rush of ocean wind blowing through our hair, and I smiled.

Sometimes you find kin in the most unexpected places.

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*These are just a few samples o fetch images; hella more coming soon 

Credits:  Model: Madelaine McCallum // Hair+Makeup: MUA Native Barbie  // Pink Gown: Chloë Angus Design // Earrings: Savage Rose  // Beaded Belt: Melody // Mukluks: Unknown (will gather name)

 – tenille campbell

Yellowknife known as Sǫ̀mbak’è (money place)

I daydream a lot about the North.

Perhaps it is because of all the stories my dad has told me about when he worked up there in his twenties. My dad still has a beautiful hand-made parka which he bought when he was up North. It has got to be at least 40 years old. From what I can remember, he worked on a ship, spending time in Tuktoyaktuk, Inuvik, Yellowknife, Hay River, and many other places in the territories. Even though my dad denies it, I’m pretty sure that I’ve got some half-siblings somewhere up North (good thing my dad doesn’t do the internet and to my aunties out there who read this – shhhh). It was a time in his youth when he had money, no wife, and their was lots of work up in the territories during the 60s. For example, the mining industry near Yellowknife was thriving.

It looks as though someone took their finger and dug it into the earth and drew that river.

It could be that I am drawn to the North because of the stories my friend Elaine shared with me during our time at the University of Victoria. She’s from Fort McPherson. She told me about the caribou, geese, and life on the Peel River. And for a short while, my son and her nephew were pen pals. Adorable. We need to start that up again.

Images of life up there were almost entirely conceivable after watching Ice Lake Rebels, Arctic Air and Ice Road Truckers. Ha. Joking. No, it was Shawna, Caroline, and Shayla’s images from their home communities which drew me to take my family to Yellowknife for Spring Break. I know – even Shawna’s mom thought we were a bit strange spending our Spring Break up North. But with friends and family living up there and the chance to show my West Coast babies a REAL winter, we did it. And all of us southerners fell in love with the North. We fell hard. Honestly, how could you not? So much sunshine and no need to worry about slathering the kids with sunscreen because you are layered upon layer with clothing to stay warm. No heat stroke. It was wonderful.

-10C is better for my family than 30C.

We got to stay on a houseboat with a couple of those Ice Lake Rebels, Stephan and Allyce, at Vee Lake. What’s up with all these reality shows? We drove on ice roads. We went snowmobiling. We made snow forts and demolished snow forts, we saw the Aurora Borealis while we felt our hands and feet freezing. My sons adopted a new uncle.  We got snowed in, learned a bit about kite skiing and we learned our most valuable lesson – you must remember to plug in your vehicle when it is -30C overnight. Whoops. Wait, the valuable lesson I took from staying on their houseboat was how much we waste water and electricity in our homes on the grid. My kids loved not having to wash their hands after every time they used the compost toilet with the pee and poo hole. Don’t worry, I was there reminding them about the hand sanitizer.

Houseboat at Vee Lake.

Isn’t that snow so pretty?

This kid isn’t tired of me taking his photos all the time, yet.

He loves having a mom as a photographer.

I googled how to take photos of Northern Lights and this was my first image. I was so excited that I forgot to lower my ISO and adjust my shutter speed.

We woke up around 1am to see the Aurora Borealis and let me tell you it was freeeezing cold. I couldn’t stop clicking my shutter release because the lights were moving quickly. It was beautiful.

Meet Dora the dog.

Afterwards, we stayed with my husband’s cousin and his lovely family. They invited us into their home and we are will be forever grateful for their hospitality. I gave them the option to throw us out if we were out of hand but they actually kept us around. At their home, we got to watch the cousins bond with each other which was a memorable experience for all. I also earned my aunty pin: sent kid out into freezing temperature with rubber boots and those silly stretchy mittens (she had me convinced that all her other gear was wet and she’d be okay), woke toddler up from afternoon nap by walking into her room and banging open the door and abruptly turning on the lights, forgot to change toddlers poopy bum, listened to the kids talk non stop about poo, took lots of pictures, bruised up my knees crawling after baby in the kid tunnels at the ice castle and tried to earn trust from the sweet & spicy niece who wouldn’t have anything to do with me until I came home with a beaded pink necklace. Then she told me we were best friends. I knew the pink beads would work. Our family took us to see the Northern Heritage Centre where the kids ran through and spent most of the visit trying on homemade “Northern style” clothing. I went shopping for some Northern wear for myself at Weaver & Devore and Just Furs. Let me just mention here that I can still smell the smoked moose hide and feel the soft seal skin on my skin. My husband and I went on a date to the Salvation Army Thrift Store where I saw an old man wearing beautiful beaded moccasins with galoshes as he spoke to his wife in their language. I found a stylish mustard coloured sweater vest and my husband bought some Stephen King books. We then went for a walk though the mall which was a good representation of the changes in the North. Afterwards we walked holding mittened hands to do some t-shirt shopping at the family owned Erasmus Apparel. Best date yet because honestly we don’t get many (dates, that is). Our last couple of days were spent going to Aurora Village where we did touristy things like being instructed on how to roast a marshmallow by an Australian tour guide, drank hot chocolate in a teepee, tobogganed down a man made hill, and went for a lovely dog sled ride while listening to my kids complain about the dogs farting.

Our cousins and Brody’s wall of drawings.

Those moccasins with all that moose hair tufting!

Look there is a moose and you can even see the drool.

Astum, Astum!

My husband never gets tired of me asking him to pose for another photo.

This snowcastle was impressive. To see more photos you can read Caroline’s blog post from last year’s Snowking’s festival. They change the design every year.

We loved every moment about our trip up North. It went by so quickly that Shawna and I had the good intentions of collaborating on something but the only thing we collaborated on was attending a Booty exercise class (yassss did we ever burn it while looking like monkeys) and then talking about parenting and photography over a cup of hot cocoa with a peppermint tea bag. Shawna and I hadn’t seen each other since we finished our diplomas in photography at Western Academy in Victoria, BC. Back then she was fresh out of high school (perhaps not that fresh) and I was already pregnant with my second son. Over the years, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed seeing her grow as a photographer but also as a young woman and now mother. All these connections are so important for the growth of my young family and for me, as an artist, friend, mother and aunty.

Look – it’s the talented and lovely Shawna McLeod.

These are a few more stories about the North, that I can add to my daydreams for years to come. While my children can share their own stories about that time we went to Yellowknife for Spring Break.

We miss you.

*In the Dogrib language, the city is known as Sǫ̀mbak’è (Sawm-ba Kay) (money place)

-Amanda Laliberte