 When Sunrise Lockhart, who was born and raised in Łutsël K’é, returned to the community after graduating from high school in Fort Smith, he worked with the recreation department, where he gained valuable experience delivering and later designing and managing programming. From there, he was hired on as the youth coordinator, a position that further expanded his administrative skills. While he enjoyed this work, he found himself spending all of his free time on the land, reconnecting with the knowledge and skills that had been passed on to him by his family.
Sunrise’s earliest memories on the land are with his paternal grandparents, Bernadette and Joe Lockhart. They would take him out whenever they could, for picnics on the side of the road, visits to their cabin, and hunting trips further afield. As Sunrise got older, he and his family, including his parents, James and Sandra Lockhart, and brother, Chase, would go out with other families, spending weeks at a time camping and harvesting. As he rediscovered his connection to the land and his Łutsël K’é Dene culture, Sunrise started to seek out work opportunities that would allow him to spend time in the bush, which is how he ended up at the cultural exchange camp, a gathering of Dene from Łutsël K’é and Maori from Aotearoa (New Zealand) at Ɂedacho Tłaze (Timber Bay) on Ɂedacho Kúe (Artillery Lake) this past September. Working alongside Ni Hat’ni Dene, the Indigenous guardians of Thaidene Nëné, Sunrise was responsible for making sure the camps were set up well and had wood and water. “I liked the work environment,” he recalls. “Being out on the land but also being part of a team. You accomplish things when you work together.” Coincidentally, as the gathering ended, the department was looking for a new coordinator for the Ni Hat’ni Dene program. In addition to being attracted to the work environment, Sunrise welcomed the opportunity to give back to his community by supporting the guardians. “We face challenges in Łutsël K’é,” he explains. “The Thaidene Nëné Department is doing important work, helping out with employment, offering meaningful programming, promoting cultural activities, providing educational opportunities.” Like so many in the community, Sunrise loves spending time at Kaché (Fort Reliance). Desnéthcheé, the spiritual gathering that draws Łutsël K’é Dene to Reliance each summer, started around the time that Sunrise was born, so he grew up attending the gathering. It remains an important part of his summer plans. Ɂedacho Kúe is another special place for Sunrise, a destination for harvesting in the fall and the winter: “I look forward to going up there to hunt for caribou, to fish and trap, but also just to walk on the barrenlands.” Looking to the future, Sunrise would like to see more involvement from the community in the protected area. “Thaidene Nëné is important because our way of life is out there,” he explains. Not only do Łutsël K’é Dene depend on the land for sustenance, but who they are as Indigenous people is rooted in the land. In addition to sustaining a way of life, spending time on the land is important for wellbeing more broadly. “Being out on the land is good for you physically,” Sunrise believes. “It also gives you a sense of purpose.” Perhaps not surprisingly given his background, he wants to ensure there are opportunities for young people to learn and ultimately to participate in protecting their land. “Elders are disappearing,” Sunrise observes. “It is important that we conserve their ways and pass that along to the younger generations."  Rubin Fatt became a Ni Hat’ni Dene guardian in July of this year, a notoriously busy time for Łutsël K’é’s Thaidene Nëné Department. “Denecho [Catholique] and I were out on the land all summer,” he recalls, referring to one of the other guardians. “We were patrolling, travelling back and forth to Reliance to work on the cabin and get ready for the spiritual gathering, putting signs up, hosting visitors.” Thankfully, Rubin had previous experience working with the department as a contractor, so the learning curve wasn’t too steep.
Born and raised in Łutsël K’é, Rubin learned how to be on the land from his maternal grandparents, Mary and Pierre Fatt. “When I was a kid, we would go in the bush lots,” Rubin remembers. Rubin also credits his late godfather, Sammy Boucher, with teaching him how to travel and live on the land, but in particular, teaching him about trapping. Rubin is happiest when he is in the bush. “I love camping in every season, summer, winter,” he says, and he prefers to get his food from the land instead of the Coop. “My family likes traditional food, so I’m always out setting nets, going for ptarmigan.” He also keeps busy cutting wood. “I always have a lot of wood,” he adds, with a laugh. Rubin’s favourite place in Thaidene Nëné is Kaché (Fort Reliance). He has fond memories of visiting Madeline Drybones’s cabin, “Madeline was my mum’s mum’s sister. Every year when I was a kid, we would go and camp at her place, me, my uncles, and friends.” He also likes attending the annual spiritual gathering at Desnéthcheé. Rubin welcomed the creation of the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area in 2019. “It’s good to protect our land, our animals, and our water from mining,” he says. “It’s good for our future, for our kids’ future, and their kids’ future.” In addition to ensuring permanent protection for the land of the ancestors, Thaidene Nëné has meant jobs, good jobs that are based in the community, for Łutsël K’é Dene like Rubin. And while he is thankful to have work that he enjoys and that pays well, he also recognizes there are others in the community who need jobs. Looking to the future, Rubin would like to see more employment opportunities connected to the protected area for local people.  When the Thaidene Nëné Department announced it was in need of a new guardian last fall, Kevin Fatt jumped at the opportunity. “I’d been working in town way too much,” he explains. “I was always wanting to go out on the land, but there was never enough time.” A position with Ni Hat’ni Dene meant it would be Kevin’s job to spend time on the land. Kevin was no stranger to the department. He had been working on a contract basis since Ni Hat’ni Dene became a full-time, year-round program in January 2020. (Prior to this, Ni Hat’ni Dene guardians worked seasonally.)
Kevin is well-suited to being a guardian. First, he has solid bush skills, having been raised by his maternal grandparents, Pierre and Mary Fatt. “They’re the ones that taught me how to live off the land,” Kevin says. “How to harvest, when to harvest, how to survive off the land.” Thanks to their careful instruction, Kevin came to love travelling on the land and spending time in the bush and on the tundra. Second, Kevin is a capable mechanic, who enjoys fixing things and problem solving. These are important skills for Ni Hat’ni Dene, who spend much of the summer and winter months away from the community out on patrol and need to be self-sufficient. Third, Kevin enjoys meeting new people, which is another feature of life on patrol. In the summer months especially, Ni Hat’ni Dene interact with visitors from all over the world, acting as ambassadors for the protected area. Like so many in the community, Kevin has to work to identify a favourite place in Thaidene Nëné. “It doesn’t matter where I am,” he says. “It’s just being out there.” If he has to choose though, he would pick Kaché (Fort Reliance) and Ts’ąkuı Theda (Lady of the Falls) because of the deep history that Łutsël K’é Dene have there and the many stories tied to the area. Kevin takes his position with Ni Hat’ni Dene seriously because it’s an inherited responsibility. “Our ancestors told us to watch over Thaidene Nëné,” he explains. “It’s our turn now to carry on their tradition.” Recognizing the importance of future generations to protecting the land and ensuring the continuation of Łutsël K’é Dene culture, Kevin wants to involve young people more in the work of caring for Thaidene Nëné, so one day they can take over this responsibility.  Bernice Marlowe joined the Thaidene Nëné team in early June. One of her first responsibilities as the new Ni Hat’ni Dene coordinator was to support the youth canoe trip to K’áı́hųká Tué (McLean Bay). The youth were also accompanied by traditional knowledge instructors, Sandra and James Lockhart. While on the trip, Bernice had a moment of déjà vu. “I realized James and Sandra had taught me stuff like this when I was in school, and they’re still teaching me,” she exclaims. “Who would have thought that I would have been doing this?”
Young Bernice may not have anticipated becoming the Ni Hat’ni Dene coordinator—she had her heart set on being a geologist—but she would have welcomed the opportunity to spend time in the bush as part of her job. Born and raised in Łutsël K’é, when Bernice and her siblings weren’t in school, they were out on the land. she recalls, “My late dad, George Marlowe, was a big role model for me, being out on the land. He always took me out. He taught me the way of life, and bush skills.” Both of their parents, George and Celine, had day jobs in the community, so the Marlowe girls and their brother, Darren, also spent time in the bush, learning from their maternal grandparents, Marie and Bruno Nataway, and their uncles. When Bernice had kids—she and her partner, Paul Catholique, have three sons: Troy, Tyson, and Nuni—they were trained in the same way. Bernice says, “My late Dad took my boys out on the land as much as possible, right up until he couldn’t be mobile anymore. He showed them what he taught me.” A plane crash at Utsingi Point in 2011 left Bernice unable to work. “For a long time,” she explains, “I was in this mode from my plane crash. I was staying in my room all the time.” In addition to support from her mom, Paul, sister Amanda, and other family, spending time on the land was an important part of Bernice’s healing journey. She says, “Every time I went out on the land, I felt more like I could breathe. I felt safe.” Bernice was living next to the Thaidene Nëné offices while she was recovering. “I realized that I wanted to work for the department. I said to my mom: How do I get a job there? And she said, ‘Picture in your head what you want to do. Picture it in your head and repeat it everyday.’” Celine’s advice must have worked, because Bernice is now responsible for coordinating the activities for the Ni Hat’ni Dene program and managing the guardians. “What I like about my job,” she explains, “is being able to take care of the guys because they are our guardians. I like to make sure they are well-equipped for every season. I also like being able to work with the young people, show them the way of life, and share bush skills and knowledge.” For Bernice, Thaidene Nëné means “land watchers, guardians. The people who take care of our land, who protect our land.” She thinks of her children and the other young people in the community when asked why it is important to protect the land: “It’s because of our kids, our kids’ kids, the next generation and the generation after that.” Bernice wants to ensure that future generations are able to live and travel on the land the way her grandparents did, the way that she has been able to do. “Travelling and harvesting,” she says, “that is our lifestyle. I don’t know what would happen if we weren’t able to do that.” As much as Bernice is thinking about future generations, she also feels a responsibility to those of long ago: “This land is where my ancestors were at one time. It was passed down to me that it is my duty to protect it.” Bernice feels a special connection to Ts’ąkuı Theda (Parry Falls), a place that grounds her, and also to Ɂedacho Tłaze (Timber Bay). “Every time I go up there, she says, “I get so emotional. I cry with happiness when I arrive, and then I cry when it’s time to go because I have to leave. Part of me is up there. I feel at home when I’m there. It’s been that way ever since I was a little girl.” But there are lots of places in the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area that are new to Bernice, and she looks forward to visiting them in her role as the Ni Hat’ni Dene coordinator. This is part of a series of profiles about the staff, leaders, and community members who are hard at work implementing Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation's vision for the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area. You can read the other profiles here.  Paul Catholique is the newest Ni Hat’ni Dene guardian. Paul brings a wealth of experience living and working on the land to the crew. For a decade, he spent his summer months working as a guide at Frontier Fishing Lodge, showing guests the best fishing spots on Tu Nedhé (Great Slave Lake) and sharing the history and the culture of the area with them. He also spent ten years working for forestry, first as a fire crew member and later as a crew boss and supervisor.
In between contracts, Paul would hunt and trap, using the skills he learned from his father, John Catholique (his mother is Bertha Collins [Tłı̨chǫ]). “From a young age, we went trapping,” he says, often working out of a cabin on Ts’ǫ Ɂáı Tué (Noman Lake). His uncle, Antoine Michel, also played a critical role in teaching Paul how to live off the land, especially beyond the treeline. “He used to take us out to the barrenlands every year,” Paul recalls. “As soon as it was frozen, we would go to the barrenlands by skidoo. We went often, sometimes three to fifteen times a year.” Paul credits his uncle Antoine with teaching him to navigate in the springtime, when it’s more dangerous to travel on the land—“You have been really knowledgeable at that time of year,” he says—and also with showing him the old routes and roads. Equally important to his education as a harvester and land user was knowledge shared by Łutsël K’é Dene elders: “When I was in town, I would listen to the elders talk and tell stories.” His greatest teacher, though, was the land itself. In Paul’s words, “I learned from going all over on the land, trapping, travelling, and just living on the land.” When asked about his favourite places in Thaidene Nëné, almost all of Paul’s picks are beyond the treeline: Ɂedacho Tué (Artillery Lake), Dené Bésda Tué Chogh (Fletcher Lake), Ɂejëre K’áanı́ Tué (Campbell Lake), and K’ásba Dezé (Ptarmigan River). Contrary to the image suggested by the name barrenlands, Paul see the tundra as a place of abundance, “Everything I need is there.” Hazú (tundra) is also special because of the connection to his ancestors. Paul’s great-grandfather Gahdële is buried on Ɂedacho Tué. Paul wanted to be a Ni Hat’ni Dene guardian because the job description is basically his life. “This position was made for me,” he says. More than this, Paul, like many in the community, wants to protect the land and Ni Hat’ni Dene play a critical role in that. “We need to protect the land, the water, the animals, the trees,” Paul explains. “We need to protect the old campsites, the old burial sites.” Working alongside the other guardians, Paul will be responsible for mentoring the summer students. By creating hands-on learning opportunities, he notes, Ni Hat’ni Dene “can help make it safer to send younger people out on their land.” Being a skilled and conscientious land user is important to Paul; so is modelling Łutsël K’é Dene values. As just one example, he notes that “Ni Hat’ni are teaching young people how to put nets in the water, so they can share the fish with the community, with the elders.” Paul also sees the important role that Ni Hat’ni Dene play in welcoming visitors to Thaidene Nëné, while also teaching them how to live and travel safely on the land. “The things we teach the young people are good for visitors too,” he says. “We don’t want them to be left out. Everybody is welcome.” |
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July 2023
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