Heritage path becomes a path to reconciliation in a First Nations community

Kayla Peters starts each heritage path tour at Elsipogtog First Nation with a prayer.

"Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunsets," she said as she began a tour this summer. "Make my hands respect the things you have made, and my ears ever sharp to hear your voice." 

The 31-year-old Peters grew up in Elsipogtog, grew up hearing the stories and learning the ways and traditions of the generations before her. And she's learned from her own experiences.

"When the tour opened in 2018, we only had four lady's slippers in the path," she said. "Last year we counted 24. … They only bloom for two weeks in June. And our people used to call them moccasin flowers and medicine men would sweep the roots in preparation for a nerve medicine."

The flowers are now endangered and it's illegal to pick them in New Brunswick.

"If I were to pick that flower, it would take about approximately 15 years to grow back," Peters said.

Everything catches Peters's eye as visitors make their way down the path.

And everything has a story.

But she started with a note of caution about the information she was about to share.

"I just want to say that I have very basic knowledge of the medicines. In the past they were given to us by our knowledge keepers, our medicine, men and women, and they have the proper preparations and dosages. So we just ask that nobody tries anything at home."

The group heard about how sap from certain trees can relieve some ailments; from indigestion to aching muscles, and how twigs and evergreen branches can relieve or prevent colds.

Near some maple trees, another lesson was shared, this one about how Elsipogtog elders taught children in the community to properly tag maple trees so they aren't harmed.

"They don't make a lot of maple syrup, just enough so that everyone could get a little taste, as we don't take more than we need."

The path leads to a wigwam, and Peters explained its purpose as if from her own experience. Mi'ikmaq travelled in the summer, setting up their wigwams close to the water for fishing, she said.

"In the wintertime, we would move deeper into the woods, where you would find longhouses, and the woods would be kind of a protection from the harsh winter conditions that would happen," she said. "And if a family couldn't fit inside the longhouse with the rest of the families, we would set them up in a wigwam.

"So back in the day, if we were to build this from scratch, it would take about a day. And it was usually built by the women and it would fit around one family, which is on average eight to 10 people."

The longhouse is a bit farther down the path. It feels cozy inside, with the sun filtering through narrow spaces between the pieces of birch bark. 

Peters said making a house for the path in the traditional way in 2018 was more challenging than it once was.

"We were unable to cover it in birch bark until 2022," she said. "This is due to climate change as the birch tree does not survive very well in warmer climates. It survives about 70 to 80 years in colder climates."

The solution was to have Elder Gary Joe and his granddaughter, Trinity Joe, go to northern New Brunswick to find very large birch trees, although the trees they found weren't peeling properly, Peters said. 

"Then in 2022, they did their tobacco offering. They said their intentions on what they were going to use the bark for, what they were going to use the sap medicine for, and what they were going to use the firewood for to warm their family.

"So after they did their tobacco offering, the birch bark actually started peeling, right? Trinity Joe showed me a video of her actually peeling the bark and it was like almost the size of her." 

The longhouses were more than just shelter. They were a place of discussion and dispute resolution, led by women.

"If any disagreements would occur within the camp or any situation that would happen, they would come into the longhouse to discuss it and to find a solution," Peters said.

"But by the end of it, they would look to the women. Usually the grandmothers were guidance, wisdom and final say."

A tour takes about an hour, then visitors are invited into the cultural centre for a question-and-answer period, followed by refreshments. 

Peters said people have lots of questions during the tours, but it's the Q&A where deeper conversations happen.

"Some people feel like they're walking on eggshells. They want to learn but they're so worried about how they word it and they don't want to offend somebody.

"So that's why we made Q&A a safe space for people to ask those questions. I always let them know that as long as your intentions are to learn, there is no offending me because I'm here to teach to the best of my knowledge and that's why we're here."

Questions so far have covered a variety of topics, including appropriation — yes, non-Indigenous people can wear moccasins and ribbon skirts, as long as they're made by an Indigenous artist, visitors were told —  residential schools; language and life in the community, past and present.

For Peters, this is reconciliation.

"They leave with a lot more knowledge and understanding of our culture and our community, and it gives them a sense of acknowledgement. They want to be on the path to reconciliation, and I feel that tourism, Indigenous tourism is reconciliation in action." 

The heritage path tours run until Oct. 25.