Meet the kokum who's raising 14 grandchildren without batting an eye
Matriarchs stepping up to raise children as drug crisis claims more lives
It's dinner time at Faye Robinson's, and the food and love are flowing.
More than a dozen kids of all ages weave in and around the table alongside the adults.
"Kookoo, what about me?" little voices call out, as Robinson calmly ladles out food and cake.
It's a fairly typical night for this 50-year-old grandmother, who is helping to raise 14 grandchildren in her Saskatoon home.
"The love is different, totally different from when you're raising your own kids," she said, picking up one child after another, cuddling the smallest ones in turns as they squeeze past her.
"The love is deeper — a deeper love."
Over the past 14 years, Robinson and her husband Calvin have taken in more and more of their grandkids. Her five children have struggled with addictions, with two having died.
Her oldest son Patrick was shot to death last year in Regina, while his common-law wife, pregnant at eight months, had died of an overdose just the day before. Robinson's youngest son Kelvin Jr. died after heart complications from drug use last year.
"It was very traumatizing for us all," she said.
Robinson and her husband had no hesitation about what would happen to their sons' children.
"We both looked at one another and we both said the same thing. It looks like we're going to be raising more kids."
Robinson has watched many grandparents like her dealing with the grief of losing children to addictions and struggling to cope with the needs of those left behind.
"That's the same thing with us. We try to do the best we can to move on with our lives and we know that they need us. The grandchildren need us," she said.
Crystal meth compounding crisis
Noela Crowe-Salazar has been a practising social worker for more than two decades, and has seen how the breakdown of families and intergenerational trauma have led to addictions in Indigenous communities.
Her desire to create change led her to found a counselling service in Regina called kîwêtinohk maskwa, which combines western medicine with traditional knowledge and teachings. The job of counsellors has become increasingly difficult, in her eyes.
"When I first started practising in the city, a lot of the people I worked with … were using heroin. Now most often it's crystal meth and it's very, very different than heroin, hundreds of times worse," she said, noting meth can lead people into psychosis, hallucinations or violence.
"So if you're a grandparent now and you're caring for your grandchildren, and your grandchild or your child is using crystal meth or fentanyl or one of those others, the stresses [are] not the same situation as it was 25 years ago. It's much harder."
Adopting a grandchild is a sacred tradition in the Indigenous community. That has carried on, but for different reasons, as grandparents try to hold their families together in the face of serious challenges. For Crowe-Salazar, it points to the needs for more addictions and counselling support to break the cycle.
Faith in God provides strength
Robinson's family goes through $3,500 in groceries a month, buying and cooking in bulk. She said the family can't use the burners on their stove because the pots get so heavy, they break the elements.
Transportation is also a problem, so she's fundraising to buy a van that will be able to carry the family, including her 14 grandchildren and her two adult daughters who have found their way to sobriety.
While some may feel daunted by the challenges, Robinson said she is buoyed by an unshakeable faith in God. Like Job in the Bible, her faith has been unwavering despite one test after another.
"I always try to teach my husband, you know, you gotta have faith. Stop worrying about tomorrow," she said.
She was raised by her grandparents in Cote First Nation while her own parents grappled with alcohol addictions. This left her vulnerable to exploitation from other adults around her.
"I didn't like the reserve life. Too much abuse, just went through too much abuse, sexual [abuse], everything," she said.
When she was 11, her friend stole her father's car and took Robinson and a few other kids joyriding. They ended up smashing into a cultivator.
"None of us were wearing seatbelts. We were all dumb young kids," she said. "Instead of me smashing into the steering wheel, I was laying on my back. The seat broke, went backwards. I didn't even have a bruise on me."
Since then, she's felt sure that a protective force has been watching over her. Now, she's hoping God will be a force in her grandchildren's lives, and had all the family members baptized.
Each of the children that have lived with the chaos and dysfunction of drugs has come to Robinson's home and found a more stable upbringing. They've begun attending school regularly, closing the gap in their studies and coming closer to reaching their grade level.
But the threat of drugs circulating in the community is never far from her mind.
When asked if she worries about the opioid crisis touching her grandchildren, her voice becomes soft as a feather.
"Big time," she whispered.
But the children know about how Robinson's sons died, and the dangers of drugs and needles. Patrick and Kelvin's smiling faces are tacked up above the kitchen table — happier moments in lives lost too soon.
Could her grandchildren be the generation that breaks the cycle of trauma and addictions? Once again, she gives an answer that speaks to a deep and unwavering faith.
"I really am praying and hoping they do."
If you or someone who know is struggling with substance use:
- To find services near you, visit www.saskatchewan.ca/addictions. You can also call the Province of Saskatchewan's HealthLine, 811.
- The Government of Saskatchewan offers take-home naloxone kits free of charge around the province. Find out where you can get one.
- The Government of Saskatchewan also offers take-home fentanyl and benzodiazepine drug checking strips. Find the closest location to you.
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