A White Man’s Respect To Indigenous Culture

Respect isn’t something that can be demanded—it must be earned. Yet, true respect often grows naturally over time, born from shared experiences, understanding, and an openness to learning. For me, this has been especially true in my relationship with the Indigenous community. What began as curiosity has deepened into a profound admiration, and in some ways, even a sense of envy for the strength of their culture, their deep connection to nature, and the wisdom that seems to flow through their traditions. This respect has taken shape slowly over the years, evolving into something that feels both natural and lasting.

As a child – long before political correctness – when playing “Cowboys and Indians,” I always wanted to be the “Indian.” Even back then, watching Westerns like John Wayne films, I found myself rooting for the Indigenous peoples. Deep down, I sensed that they were being harassed by white settlers, encroaching on their lands with a sense of entitlement. Even as a kid, I felt this imbalance keenly, and it shaped my view of fairness and justice.

It was their relationship with nature that first drew me to the outdoors—their deep respect for the land, the animals, and the natural rhythms of life. It resonated with me in ways I couldn’t fully explain then. I felt a sense of connection to the peacefulness of the bush, and it was through that connection that I discovered my love for hunting, fishing, and even trapping as a young teen. The Indigenous way of living harmoniously with nature, rather than dominating it, inspired me to cultivate the same respect and curiosity for the world around me.

I’ve always been fascinated by their culture. To this day, I deeply enjoy listening to the stories and fables shared by their elders. These aren’t just tales of the past—they are wisdom-filled lessons about life itself. I wish white people did more of that, listening to their elders and their wisdom. I’ve learned to observe how wildlife reacts in certain situations, how to predict weather patterns based on wind direction, and so much more. Their knowledge is endless, and I hold their wisdom in the highest regard.

During my 30 years living in Penticton, I became friends with many people from the local Reservation. They’re some of the finest people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. One of my closest friends, someone I hold dear, was born in Hazelton, BC. We’ve spent countless days camping, fishing, and hunting together, often alongside his relatives and friends. The bond we share runs deep, forged in those shared moments in nature.

One of my favorite memories is from my time as a Slo-Pitch National umpire in Penticton. The games I enjoyed most were those where the First-Nations’ teams played. When two teams from the Reservation faced each other, it was the ultimate treat. They approached the game with a mix of competitiveness and humour, laughing at their own mistakes and those of their opponents. Winning mattered, but never more than having fun and sharing the joy of the moment.

Nowadays, one of my favorite coffee spots is Kekuli Cafe, owned and run by Indigenous people. It’s a small franchise with locations in Merritt, Kamloops and West Kelowna, and their menu includes bannock and even some wildlife dishes. If you ever go, I highly recommend trying the Maple Canadiano—it’s fantastic!

One of the individuals I admire most in this world is Chief Clarence Louie of the Osoyoos Indian Band. He’s been a long-standing, proactive leader, understanding the value of integrating traditional Indigenous knowledge with the modern world. He’s helped his community thrive by blending the old with the new in a way that benefits everyone. And since the US Tariffs, I’ve learned to appreciate Manitoba’s Premier Wab Kinew.

Reflecting on all of this, I realize just how much I owe to the Indigenous people when it comes to my passions and beliefs. Their influence on my life is immense, and it frustrates me to see the constant shifts in terminology—“Indians,” “Natives,” “Aboriginals,” “Indigenous,” now “First Nations.” There’s always a debate over which term is politically correct, and some even take offense to the use of Indigenous names in sports teams, like the Eskimos, the Chiefs, the Indians, the Braves, and even the Blackhawks. I’ve never understood the outrage. To me, those names are an honour, a tribute to a culture that should be celebrated.

Of course, like in any group, there are extremists who seek to stir the pot, and yes, I’ve come across a few individuals whose behaviour I dislike, even amongst some well known leaders. But that doesn’t define the entire Nation. I’m proud of the Indigenous people and, in many ways, feel like a part of me belongs with them. For that, I’m deeply grateful.