Aline Bouwman, Marketing and Communications

Photos courtesy of Bill Angelbeck, Johnny Jones and Kira Sokolovskaia

For the past 10 years, Douglas archaeologists have been excavating and mapping ancestral sites throughout unceded Líl̓wat traditional territory around Mount Currie, B.C. But they are not just uncovering the sites – they’re protecting them, too. 

Co-led by Anthropology instructor Dr. Bill Angelbeck, retired Líl̓wat Nation cultural technician Johnny Jones (Yaqalatqa7) and Geography lab technician Sasha Djakovic, the project analyzes not just the concrete evidence produced through archaeological digs, but also the oral histories associated with the excavation sites. 

This research evaluates the parallels between archaeological evidence and Indigenous stories to reach an integrated understanding of the cultural and geological record of Líl̓wat territory. The project is pursued in collaboration with the Líl̓wat Nation Lands and Resources Department and Líl̓wat community members.

“This project provides a collaborative platform for an ongoing relationship with the Líl̓wat community,” says Angelbeck. “We are weaving together ancient oral histories with scientific knowledge to strengthen and archaeologically validate Indigenous ways of knowing.” 

Read more: How Anthropology students have assisted in excavations in Líl̓wat territory 

Interweaving knowledge 

For Johnny Jones, excavating cultural sites and documenting the findings is a way of protecting the land.  

In the 1990s, Jones helped lead a road blockade to protest development in Ure Creek (Mkwal’ts), where pictographs sacred to the Líl̓wat had been found. 

Construction of logging roads in the area had already destroyed a rock face with numerous pictographs depicting ancient Líl̓wat legends before Jones was able to photograph the site. In the court case that followed the protest movement, the judge cited a lack of material evidence and dismissed the Líl̓wat Nation’s case to have the site designated as a protected area. 

“The judge said we had no proof. That’s when I started documenting everything,” Jones says. “I wanted to record evidence about all of our cultural sites so that we can protect them in court if we need to do so again.”  

Jones, who is one of a few remaining carriers of the oral histories associated with Líl̓wat cultural sites, helped preserve more than 200 archaeological sites on the Nation’s territory since 2010 – including Ure Creek (Mkwal’ts Conservancy).

Although he retired as cultural technician in 2021, Jones continues to work on archaeological projects with Angelbeck and Djakovic, interpreting the artifacts excavated in light of their oral histories. 

For instance, when the team uncovered fishing tools in a new dig area, Jones was not surprised – the Líl̓wat had long known the area as a significant fishing site for sockeye salmon.   

“We say, ‘pal7míntwal i ucwalmícwa múta7 ti tmicw,’ which means ‘the land and people are together as one,’” Jones says. “The archaeology project is proving what we already know to be true, because we walked the land.” 

By combining oral histories with archaeological investigation, the project has uncovered and determined the age of multiple Líl̓wat cultural sites. The excavation of eight pithouse village sites and radiocarbon dating of an ancient hunting camp have provided evidence that the ancestral territory has been home to the Líl̓wat for at least 5,500 years. 

Angelbeck says Líl̓wat oral histories often parallel the geological record of the glaciovolcanic landscape around Mount Currie, indicating that they have inhabited the territory since the glaciers receded over 8,000 years ago. 

“Líl̓wat oral traditions frequently portray dramatic landscape changes, which are corroborated by geologically documented flooding and volcanic events,” Angelbeck says. “Traditional Indigenous landscape knowledge, like Western science, is observational and evidence based. Oral traditions are equally important in holding landscape history.” 

Read more: This Applied Psychology alum combats anti-Indigenous racism 

Restoring names to places 

With site names provided by the Líl̓wat Nation, Geography lab tech Sasha Djakovic is building a database that places traditional place names onto surface maps of Líl̓wat territory. 

Djakovic creates detailed maps of the excavation sites using drone-powered LiDAR (Light Detection and Ranging) laser technology, which removes forest canopies and provides a view of the surface and any cultural features. He then adds descriptions that index oral histories to build an Indigenous archaeological record of each place.  

The primary audience of the database is the Líl̓wat community, but Djakovic has presented examples in Douglas Geography classes to help students compare colonial place names with traditional place names. Djakovic says colonial place names often remove the archaeological record and cultural history of places. 

Take, for instance, “Mount Meager.” 

The mountain is known as Q̓welq̓welústen in Ucwalmícwts, which translates to “cooked face mountain.” This naming provides a cultural record that the ancient volcano’s eruptions – most recently 2,400 years ago – were directly observed by the Líl̓wat people, which helps date how long they have occupied their territories. 

The mountain’s current, colonial, name comes from a much more recent history. It is named after J.B. Meager, the first holder of timber licenses in the area in the 1920s. 

“He’s not an important figure at all, and yet the mountain is named after him. It’s just an insult,” Djakovic says. “A lot of colonial names are superimposed like that, but that’s not the traditional story. 

“Traditional place names go back thousands of years and are embedded in the cultural heritage and geographical context of the Indigenous territory. We can only really connect to the land when we learn the ancient stories of places.” 

 Read more: An interview with Geography Open Lab tech, Sasha Djakovic 

Decolonializing archaeology 

Using oral histories to interpret the artifacts not only enriches the findings but also supports the Líl̓wat Nation’s right to determine how its cultural information is used and shared. 

Angelbeck explains that historically, archaeology projects have often mirrored the exploitative practices of resource extraction industries, taking cultural knowledge as a resource from Indigenous communities without their permission. 

“For a long time, archaeologists and ethnographers did not see a need to deliver cultural knowledge back to the Indigenous community they gleaned it from,” Angelbeck says. “Researchers would do work in a territory, interview Elders and then publish their findings in academic journals. That knowledge did not go back to the community. We think it should.” 

Angelbeck and Djakovic say that fostering decolonial relationships in archaeology means collaborating with Indigenous communities in ways that make the knowledge available to members of the community. 

“We want to avoid treating Indigenous knowledge as a research commodity,” Angelbeck says. “Any research we’re generating in their territories, including knowledge, will be in their archives for the community to access.” 

Learn more about Douglas College’s Anthropology and Geography programs.