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Position demands selflessness, willingness to help others
Page 12
While Vincent Stogan explained recently what makes a good Elder, his actions spoke louder than words.
Sitting at the head of the kitchen table, Stogan serenely answered questions about his role as Elder on the Musqueam Reserve in Vancouver as family members bustled around him.
His great-grandchild, one of 11, tugged on his pant leg as his wife quietly prepared dinner, which filled the house with aroma of roasted fowl.
A young woman passed by just long enough to ask to borrow her grandfather's car.
"The keys are inside," he told her without hesitating.
"See, people come in and out here," Stogan said with quiet pride, gesturing at the half-dozen people who passed through the house during a half-hour.
The visitors are related to Stogan and treat him as any family would an aging patriarch. But respect for the 75-year-old extends to the larger community of about 900.
As one of about two dozen Elders on Musqueam Reserve, Stogan is regularly asked for advice on band politics, education, language and personal affairs.
Elders know a lot of history and interesting stories, said Margaret Louis, who runs the Elders' social centre on the reserve.
They earn respect by teaching others and helping others, even if they don't know them, she said.
June Sparrow, a band member who said Stogan is respected as an Elder, said she consulted an Elder when a relative died because she was unfamiliar with the ceremony.
"I don't understand some of the traditional ways - the burnings and what to do," she said.
Stogan accepted and enjoys the role of Elder, one he said fell to him because of the family he was born into.
Becoming an Elder was "something that was pushed on to me long time ago by my Elders," he recalled.
"My grandfather was a healer and my father was a Musqueam chief," said Stogan in between the occasional puff on a Player's Plain cigarette. "The Elders thought that someone should take his place."
His brother wasn't interested and it was up to Stogan, then 45, to start thinking about becoming an Elder.
"They kind of pushed Mum and I into it," he said. "But I'm glad they did - it's paying off now, eh? All the teaching I got from them, the spirituality."
Stogan uses that teaching to counsel band members who are experiencing drug, alcohol or family problems.
"It helps a lot of people, this counseling. We've helped a lot of people, Mum and I," he said, always including his wife, who travels with Stogan to represent the band at Native gatherings.
"People all across the Lower Mainland have a lot of respect for Mum and I."
Stogan, who sits on the advisory board for the new longhouse at the nearby University of British Columbia, said there's more to being an Elder than just being elderly.
It's being respected for wise decisions and teaching by example through hard and honest work.
But Elders are almost always 65 or older, said Stogan, because after retirement they have the time to devote to the community.
Some older band members are offended by the assumption they are Elders.
"A lot of them don't like being called old," said Stogan, flashing a toothless, mischievous grin. "I don't mind them calling me an Elder."
The help he gives to other makes Stogan feel good about himself. He said he offers the help with nothing expected in return. Most do show their gratitude.
"But some, you don't change anything. I do whatever I was taught by my grandfather," he said proudly.
And Stogan is now passing on that knowledge and tradition to his children.
Two of his seven children, who are in their 40s, are showing interest in becoming an Elder, said Stogan.
"They'll keep watching us and one day they'll learn," he said.
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