There are some Elders who are grandparents to everyone they know, and Kyé7e, Minnie Phillips, is one of those people.
As a fluent speaker of Secwepemctsín (the Swab language) and a long-time teacher of the language, she has countless former students, friends and relatives who adore her.
Often, when we are out in public, many people will come up to her and call her Kyé7e, all of them with fondness in their eyes when they talk to her.
Kyé7e truly remembers everyone – even though she sometimes doesn’t remember their names – but she has countless stories to tell about everyone around her.
As we sit in her home in Xatsúll, Kyé7e sits in her easy chair and smiles as she remembers one of her former students.
Kyé7e talks about a young boy who was a student in her class, and he would come and talk to her all the time. One time, when the boy was 8 or 9 years old, he came out of a store and walked straight to Kyé7e while Secwépemc was speaking.
She recalls that the student, who is non-Indigenous, was eager to learn in the classroom, adding that he would quickly absorb the language lessons.
Kyé7e is the heart of our family and we all gain so much from just being in her presence. My grandparents’ house was a safe place, and it was for all family, friends, and anyone who walked through the door.
The smell of freshly baked bread or fried bannock reminds us of their home on the Rez. Family dinners are hosted there no questions asked. Grandparents are involved and we all know we are coming together for them.
I’m grateful to have grown up around amazing people like Kyé7e.
Growing up like an eldest daughter
Kyé7e was born in 1938, one of 17 children born to parents Anastasia and Patrick Chelsea. As the eldest daughter, Kyé7e finds herself a “mother hen” who helps take care of her siblings.
When Kyé7e and her siblings were children, she said, “We had to speak Shuswap because my grandmother didn’t go to school, my father didn’t go to school, and my mother was the only one.”
Her grandmother was fluent in Secwepemctsín, so speaking the language was the only way for the family to speak until she understood it.
Kyé7e’s father, Patrick Chelsea, attended a residential “school” for a year where he learned to write his name in English. Kyé7e says that when her father complained about the treatment after a year of “school,” his father expelled him, and she goes on to say that her grandfather “must be a good man” to be able to pull his children out of the institution.
As for growing up with tradition, Kyé7e remembers the squilli (sweat house) as the location of her family’s baths. Every Monday and Friday, the children would pack their own water to the Saqil.
Before attending the residential “school,” Kyé7e notes that at home, “we had everything to do, we would plant the garden and then work in the garden all summer.”
She notes that she learned traditional practices by watching her mother and grandmother.
In the summer, the family would “ride down the river, get a whole bunch of salmon, and fillet the fish all day long.” “No more than 70 or 55,” she would tell them, but she remembers one time her family came back with 200 salmon that they then needed help cutting.
After the meat is cut, it is smoked and hung in the smokehouse during the fall and winter. “It’s all hanging out there, and the meat is falling off all winter. Nowadays you don’t even see it.”
When asked if she liked cutting meat, Kyé7e laughed and said she “was doing it whether I liked it or not.”
Although Kyé7e makes the best bannock now, that wasn’t always the case, she says. After her mother got the flour, she “put it in a bowl and we mixed it up to try to make some plantains when everyone was gone, me and their kids.” She laughs and says: “We have bananas. We had to dig a hole and bury them, and we did not know how to make bananas.” It was her grandmother who then taught her how to make bananas, which she still makes today.
Although she grew up in a household where Sikopimctsin was spoken fluently, there was a disconnect in the language. At the age of ten she was brought to the St. Joseph Mission where she spent five years in “school.”
She still remembers the time it took to travel back and forth from the mission to home. “I didn’t like traveling,” she says, adding that the trip was very long. “Especially when you come home for Christmas break. We’re freezing when we come home, sitting in the sled. Even after the long trip, their father had to pick them up from their home in Dog Creek across the river.
While at the mission, Kyé7e remembers one of her sisters, Marilyn, who “used to speak Hindi with the nuns.” Her sisters would tell her that she needed to speak English while she was at “school.”
Her father told the children that they needed to go to school in order to get a job. At the age of fifteen, Kyé7e got a job as a housekeeper which allowed her to stop attending the St. Joseph Mission.
After spending four and a half years at “school,” Kyé7e went home for Christmas break and never came back because I was working over the holidays. They took me down to the farm to clean out the bunker and everything.
She learned English at “school,” which allowed her to work in English-speaking institutions, but she also clung to Sykobimctsin.
Kyé7e continued to work over the years, even returning to the mission as a cook at the age of 18 or 19. She says they were always in need of cooks to feed 300 children.
She worked until she married Xpé7e in 1964. After marriage, Kyé7e moved to the Xats̓úll First Nation from the Esk’etemc First Nation. Kyé7e remembers knowing Xpé7e on the mission but says they went their own way until many years later when they reconnected in 1962.
Few fluent speakers remained But many are educated
Kyé7e is one of the few fluent Secwepemctsín speakers who continue to practice the language. According to the 2022 First People’s Cultural Council (FPCC) Language Report, in the 16 Secwépemc ranges, only 1.6 percent of the population speaks Secwepemctsín fluently.
Starting in 1978, Kyé7e began teaching the language. It was her grandmother who taught her the language, but she still had to attend Secwepemctsín classes to obtain her teacher certification.
Kyé7e credits Cecilia DeRose with “pulling” her into Secwépemc classes. In these classes, they were supposed to learn to write in the language, but she remembers that she used the linguistic knowledge she learned from her grandmother to prove that she was fluent in the language and obtained her degree. “My grandmother didn’t teach me how to write it, just how to say it,” she says.
“There were 17 of us going to the Shuswap School, and we were supposed to learn how to spell it and everything.” She adds that the aspiring teachers were mostly from Iskitimc.
As a committed teacher, Kyé7e says, “I enjoyed every bit of it.”
Throughout her teaching career, Kyé7e moved from Wildwood Elementary School to Mary Sharpe School and back again. She continued to work in schools until she was 65 and was forced to retire.
It continues to work with all ages throughout Secwépemc communities, from youth programs on the Xats̓úll Reserve to university-level programs on Tk̓emlúps te Secwépemc (TteS).
The FPCC report also notes that 15.9 percent of the Secwépemc Nation population is actively learning the language.
TteS works to increase the fluency of younger generations, through programs such as Me7 Texwtuxwtsínem-kt, a collaboration with Simon Fraser University (SFU) and TteS. The program regularly brings in Elders who guide and direct their work while providing a space for Elders to visit and speak at Sekupimctsin.
The program builds on the knowledge of the Elders and ensures that the Elders participate in decision-making and development of Secwépemc programming while providing new words and phrases to learn.
There are multiple dialects of Secwepemctsín within the sixteen bands. Within different areas there are different sounds for the same word, which participants learn through visits with adults.
Over the years, Kyé7e remains consistent in her ways, saying: “I don’t care whether I spell it or not, as long as I can speak it.”
Language has always been a constant in every grandchild’s life. The moment you enter a Kyé7e home you will hear the language. Sometimes it can be just a few words, or there may be a visitor speaking in Sekobimctsin.
My siblings, who grew up in a house down the street from my grandparents, didn’t even realize that some of the words we used were Secwépemc words. Since it was always included in their vocabulary, they considered it English.
Kyé7e points out that it is common for children not to know that they are learning Secwepemctsín, “and some of them can easily pick it up and think it is an English word. But when it comes to the Shuswap word, they think it is a difficult word.
They are moments of realization that through the constant use of our traditional language children learn without thinking about it. This determines the importance of any conversations in the language. Even if it’s just an addition to an English sentence, it’s something. As long as we start small, learning will happen.
“There is a lot to learn,” says Kyé7e, adding: “I think it is best to start with them when they are young children.” She says that you need to start speaking to them in Secwepemctsín so that they can start to understand the language when they listen to you.
She says she has children who say to her, “We’ve already learned this,” but as she teaches them, she works to solidify the language for them, as frequently as possible. From there you will continue to teach the more difficult words and notes, and sometimes it is not too difficult for the children, it is easier for them to learn the new teachings when they hear the words enough times.
Humor and flexibility
Since I live at home, I have had the opportunity to attend more events with my grandparents. In November we all attended the Secwepemctsín Language Conference 2023. It was four days of Secwepemctsín Fluency.
During one of the stories that Elder Irvin Johnson was telling in full in Sekupimctsin, I looked at my ancestors and they were having a blast. The story was about a peacekeeper who ended up going down a river in a rock canoe, injuring Kyé7e and Xpé7e’s funny bone. Tears were coming out of their eyes because they were laughing so hard.
Although I had seen them laugh many times, this felt different. Hearing that pure laughter from a Secwépemc story spoken entirely in our language was amazing.
That in itself was a show of resilience. It showed that language is still present and can evoke emotions. Although Xpé7e, my aunt, and I do not speak Secwepemctsín fluently, we had Kyé7e to rely on and she translated some of the story for us.
Growing up, I spent many days at my grandparents’ house. I seemed to have a lot of “sick” days while I was there. My mom used to tell me that she would rather spend a day learning from my grandparents than at a public school, so I took advantage of that. It’s true that I learned a lot just by being in their presence.
My grandparents have always been and continue to be my favorite people. Their knowledge is unparalleled, and as they pass it on through storytelling, I’m thrilled that their stories pass through mine as well.
We family members and countless other honorary descendants who have learned from Kyé7e are all fortunate to carry her stories.
In the efforts to revitalize the Secwepemctsín language, Kyé7e Minnie Phillips has taken on the important task of teaching and preserving this indigenous language. Through her dedication and passion, she has brought Secwepemctsín to life, helping to ensure its continued existence for future generations. By imparting her knowledge and understanding of the language, she is not only teaching a language, but also sharing a rich cultural heritage. Phillips’ work is not only vital in preserving the language, but also in providing opportunities for the Secwepemc people to connect with their ancestral language and traditions.