Chester Cunningham
Believe in yourself first
Chester
Cunningham had just come back from a hunting trip with his brothers
when he got the word about his National Aboriginal Achievement
Award. The trip is a yearly ritual for the brothers. They spend
a week together near Drumheller, Alta. where they grew up, as
they did when their father was alive. It still feels like going
home to their roots. They do a lot of walking, talking, drinking
tea, looking for dinosaur bones and old tipi rings. Sometimes
they even get around to hunting.
One of these years they're going to Wardlaw, Alta., where they hope to find an old piece of sandstone with their father's name, Sam Cunningham, etched into it. That mark dates back to 1926, when Sam and his father worked on ranches in that part of the country. Chester remembers his father saying "it's important to be a man first and a Native [person] after, important not to get the two mixed up." It was his way of saying you have to believe in yourself first. Chester's told the story many times to students and other clients of the Native Counselling Services of Alberta.
Chester Cunningham's award was in the category of law and justice, for "making Aboriginal court worker programs a reality". He was surprised. Naturally, he was pleased too and feels the awards are a great way to introduce Aboriginal role models to youth. Cunningham has also received the Order of Canada, is an honorary chief of the Peigan Band and has an Honorary Doctorate of Laws from the University of Alberta.
Still, when he went to the gala presentation at the Jubilee Auditorium in Calgary, he felt "humbled by the quality of the recipients receiving awards.
" Compared to the poets, judges, sports heroes and medical doctors, he feels he's an ordinary guy. Justice Harry LaForme, however, told Cunningham that when he "pioneered the court worker program, a lot of Aboriginal people changed their occupation and went into law, because before that [they] thought it was forbidden."
Besides giving his father a lot of credit, Cunningham said his mother, 91, who was at the ceremonies, should have been the one getting the award. She thought it was a fine occasion, or would have except that her children insisted she wear a long evening dress!
Though Cunningham tends to be modest about the achievements which led to his award, he admits the Aboriginal court worker program wasn't easy to get off the ground and keep afloat. There he was - he'd just gotten married, after having worked in the coal mines and on highway construction - accepting a job at the Native Friendship Centre in Edmonton, because he wanted to spend more time with his family. He was to be program director, but when he asked, "what programs do I have to direct?", the answer he got was, "you have to find them." When he asked, "where do I get the money?", the answer he got was, "you have to find it."
Naturally he learned a lot about fund-raising, though at one point, the story goes, he took out loans against his own house and car to be sure the program wouldn't disappear because of the lack of money. The court workers' program seemed vital to him because for many the situation was desperate. Often, Aboriginal people would plead guilty to charges they didn't understand; others were convicted without any verbal communication between themselves and the judge; some would plead guilty when they weren't.
What people coming into the city needed was someone they could trust to help them understand what was expected of them. As such a liasion, Cunningham was soon spending 60 per cent of his time in court. Working with a few of the judges he'd met, he created the Native Court Worker Services Association, which later became the Native Counselling Services of Alberta (NCSA).
Still, all was not smooth sailing. First there were the money problems; then the workers being trained at the Centre were in demand. They'd get offered higher-paying jobs and away they'd go. Cunningham always encouraged them to look after themselves. After all, he said, we "never really lost people who'd been in Native Counselling. They'd always remember where they came from."