Wayne and the Fellowship Circle

“We are all connected; what we do to the Earth, we do to ourselves.” – Chief Seattle

For much of his life, Wayne Alexander carried an unspoken uncertainty about his identity. Growing up in Stephenville at a time when being openly Indigenous was often discouraged, his family lived quietly with traditions rooted in Mi’kmaq culture but rarely named them as such. The pride was there, but the not always the words. A chance connection with Ernest Green, a physiotherapy support worker with NL Health Services, helped Wayne rediscover his roots.

Though Ernest wasn’t part of Wayne’s formal care team, the two already shared a connection rooted in culture. They had met at community gatherings—Powwows with their dancing and ceremony, and Mawio’mis (mah-wee-oo-mees), vibrant celebrations of Mi’kmaq traditions—where their shared heritage naturally drew them together.

That bond grew even stronger this past summer. On National Indigenous Peoples Day (June 21), they crossed paths again at a celebration in Corner Brook. There, Ernest learned Wayne was undergoing rehabilitation at Western Long-Term Care. What began as a cultural connection soon became a source of strength and support during Wayne’s healing journey.

“Wayne’s determination wasn’t just about recovering physically,” Ernest recalls. “He wanted to use his healing journey as a way to rediscover his culture.”

Wayne’s entire expression transformed when Ernest asked if the men’s fellowship circle could visit and drum with him. . “His face brightened with a glow I had never seen before—like a child on Christmas morning,” Ernest says. In that instant, it became clear just how powerful cultural connection could be in Wayne’s recovery.

L-R: Wayne Alexander and Ernest Green sharing a moment during a recent drum circle.

Drumming soon became more than an activity—it was a lifeline. Each beat echoed his own heartbeat, grounding him in the present while linking him to something timeless. Surrounded by others, Wayne felt the pulse of community, ancestry, and identity moving through him. The drum circle brought him patience, courage, and peace.

“The drum group gives me a sense of community, a sense of belonging, and a place where I’m recognized as an individual but also as part of something greater,” Wayne says.

From that moment, recovery meant more than physical progress. It became about balance: body, mind, spirit, and identity. Ernest witnessed the transformation as support that turned into friendship, built on trust, respect, and shared culture.

The heartbeat of the big drum

Wayne and the Fellowship Circle stand next to a mural in front of Western Long-Term Care that was created by Mi’kmaq artist, Marcus Gosse.

For Wayne, reconnecting with the Big Drum —a large, barrel-shaped drum with rawhide stretched across both ends— has been one of the most powerful parts of his journey.

Its deep, resonant rhythm, said to carry the heartbeat of Mother Earth, brought him calm and connection. Sometimes, it even stirs emotions so strong they awaken a sudden feeling of belonging. In Indigenous culture, the Big Drum is said to ground people in the natural world, reminding them of their place within it. For Wayne, that steady rhythm offers comfort, community and a deeper bond to culture and land.

But Wayne also sees challenges ahead: drum groups in his region are fewer, and knowledge keepers are hard to find. “Anyone can pick up a drum,” he says, “but the Big Drum requires someone who understands the culture, the traditions, and the responsibility it carries.”

He dreams of a future where Indigenous practices are not viewed as “add-ons” but essential parts of rehabilitation and health. He believes early education around culture and identity could help Indigenous youth embrace their roots sooner, fostering resilience and self-acceptance.

Bridging Western and Indigenous healing

As a former corrections officer, Wayne has also seen how culture can shape lives in profound ways. He believes offering Indigenous practices and identity supports within the justice system could help incarcerated people reconnect with themselves, their traditions, and their communities—paving the way for true rehabilitation and reintegration.

Wayne’s story shows what is possible when Indigenous traditions and Western medicine work together. It also highlights the vital role of Indigenous Patient Navigators, who bridge these two worlds. In NL Health Services, navigators like Scott Janes in the Western Zone help patients feel seen, supported and respected, providing a more inclusive, culturally safe health system.

“As the Indigenous Patient Navigator for the Western Zone, I’ve been lucky to get to know Wayne,” Scott says. “His Mi’kmaq heritage is such a proud and beautiful part of who he is, and I truly believe those traditions were a big part of his incredible healing journey.”

A path forward

Today, Wayne lives with love and positivity at the centre of his life. His two grandchildren, Seth and Hannah, are his greatest joys. His advice is simple, yet powerful: whether Indigenous or not, the path to belonging and healing begins with love—love for yourself, and love for others.

Wayne’s recovery is more than a personal triumph, it reflects a vision of health care that honours Indigenous traditions—ceremony, drumming, and cultural connection, while strengthening outcomes for all. By walking the path of culture, community and love, Wayne shows us that true healing restores balance to body, mind, and spirit.

At NL Health Services, we are committed to supporting this balance, working with Indigenous Peoples, families, and communities to ensure care is safe, inclusive, and culturally grounded.

Learn more about Indigenous Patient Navigators at NL Health Services.
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This story was written by Jon Oake, a communications officer with NL Health Services, based in Grand Falls-Windsor.