Yesterday, I woke to warm sunshine streaming through my window, and my thoughts immediately gravitated to a local landmark that had been on my mind all week—Mount Benson. With winter approaching on the West Coast, no plans on my agenda, and the perfect conditions for an adventure, I decided today was the day.
A few hours later, I stood at the summit, captivated by the breathtaking view before me. There, I noticed the sign proudly declaring the mountain’s name and elevation: Mt. Benson, towering at 1,028 meters. Seeing this, I began to think about its traditional name, Te'tuxwtun, meaning "grandmother to the surrounding mountains." Our friend and Consulting Mentor, Jared Qwustenuxun Williams of Quw'utsun, is a passionate advocate for revitalizing Indigenous place names, seeing it as a way to deepen understanding and reconnect with Indigenous languages. In this week's #TeachingsTuesday, Jared shares the relevance of these names.
"I look up and I see Pi'paam as not just a mountain, but a literal collection of stories. As if the encyclopedia of our culture was written into place names and can only be unlocked by knowing these names.
Pi'paam is the great frog, who saved the people from the flood. The flood story talks of Syalutsa and Stutsun, the first two ancestors who fell from the sky. These two people are connected to many other stories, including one of our origin stories. Heck, people alive right now still wear the names Syalutsa and Stutsun. The flood story also connects to Swuq'us, now known as Mt. Prevost. For to save the people from the flood, Syalutsa led half of Quw'utsun up Swuq'us, and Stutsun led the other half up Pi'paam. In this story there is even talk of Syalutsa's anchor, a massive stone atop Swuq'us, that the people tied their canoes too as the waters went higher than Swuq'us. A stone that you can hike up there and find today.
But if you know local geology then you'll know that Swuq'us is taller than Pi'paam. So, when the water rose higher and higher, Pi'paam rose as well, keeping the people atop it safe and dry. It is said that this is because Pi'paam is a great frog, a great frog who saved our people from the flood. I will say that there are many versions of this story, and this is a very short "Coles Notes" version. A true telling would take hours, if not days.
Another thing I see when I look up is how it was renamed for a great warlord Tsuw'xilum (Tzouhalem). The stories of his victories, accomplishments, and legends, fill my mind. But as he existed during the early colonial phase my mind moves to colonization. How the gunships shot their cannonballs at Pi'paam as a show of force? Unknowingly shooting cannons directly at our great frog savior. Some accounts even say that some of the stone that was used to build the stone church was taken from the stone that broke away from the mountain during these blasts. Inevitably I remember that the stones that were once the foundation of Tsuw'xilum's fort, at the base of the mountain, are now on some non-Indigenous person's waterfront property.
Again, some people just see a mountain; I see so many stories. Stories that must come back, must be brought to light, must be shared with the generations to come. Stories that will only flourish if we take back our place names. Names that were collectively robbed from all of us. Names that reveal the true history of this place. With these names we can better understand where we find ourselves, and how to better move forward."
Jared's stories led me to reflect on the significance of names. I've often accepted the names of places and things without questioning their origins. Recently, though, these shared reflections and stories have shifted my perspective, inspiring me to look into the history of names in my hometown, starting with my elementary school. My search led me to a city heritage site, celebrating noteworthy residents who helped shape the city.
As I scrolled through the names of people commemorated on schools, streets, and parks, I saw many familiar ones—but not a single Indigenous person was listed.
Unlearning can be difficult, especially as we come to see the intentional suppression and exclusion of First Peoples. Even as individuals work toward reconciliation, we still see the effects of historic colonial influences all around us. Who was your elementary school named after? Your high school? Or the closest park you spent your childhood in? I encourage you to explore these answers and share your findings—I would love to hear what you discover.
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