Inside Tea Creek Farm’s Indigenous-Led Model for Food and Work
Tea Creek Farm did not begin as a bold social experiment. It began as a homestead, a place where Jacob Beaton and his family sought a slower pace, good food, and a nurturing environment. Today, it stands for something larger: an Indigenous-led initiative committed to cultural and economic revitalization.
“I had no intention of doing what we’re doing now,” Jacob says. “It was just supposed to be a nice country life for my wife and me and our kids. Great place for the kids to grow up.”
At the time, stepping back felt necessary. Jacob had spent years working in communications and consulting, often behind the scenes, supporting Indigenous communities through complex negotiations, public crises, and long-term agreements. The work mattered, but it also exposed patterns that were hard to ignore.
Again and again, he watched Indigenous communities negotiate hard, meaningful agreements, only to see the long-term benefits drift elsewhere.
“What’s the point of me being a business consultant,” he says, “negotiating great deals and opportunities, and then just seeing them benefiting non-Indigenous people?”
Tea Creek emerged as a response; a place where skills, work, and opportunity could remain rooted in community, on the land, and in relationship.
Today, Tea Creek is an award-winning, Indigenous-led, culturally safe, land-based initiative for Indigenous food sovereignty and trades training. Its mission is to revitalize the culture of economic interdependence and food production that was central to the lives of Indigenous peoples throughout the Americas.
That mission takes shape in daily practice. The hands-on realities at Tea Creek bring its philosophy to life.
When Learning Happens on the Land
Tea Creek wasn’t designed as a school. It became one because people said it worked.
“In 2020, we had a number of First Nations people coming and saying, ‘I learned more at your farm than I learned in school, or I learned in college,’” Jacob recalls. When COVID shut down classroom-based programs, the timing felt unavoidable. “This was the perfect storm to teach hands-on trades, in an Indigenous-led environment, on our farm.”
What emerged wasn’t a single course or credential, but a different approach altogether. “We’re not just health. We’re not just education. We’re not just agriculture,” Jacob explains. “We bring it all together into one holistic model.”
Today, Tea Creek operates seasonally, employing up to 30 people at peak and hosting trainees, school groups, leadership teams, and community visitors. Some people come for a single day. Others stay for months. Some eventually join the paid crew.
School visits are a major part of that ecosystem. Kids try things many have never imagined themselves doing before. “You never know when an experience like that is going to change some kid’s life,” Jacob says. “They try something new and go, ‘Oh, I could do this.’”
Food Is Not a Side Project
At Tea Creek, food and training are inseparable—food is foundational.
“We serve food to everybody,” Jacob says. “If you’re here at lunch, then we’ll feed you.” Over the course of a year, that adds up to roughly 15,000 meals shared between staff, trainees, contractors, visitors, and community members—sometimes even the FedEx driver.
That commitment deepened with the construction of a large root cellar. Its purpose became clear almost immediately. “We rescued 60,000 pounds of potatoes from Vancouver,” Jacob says. With nowhere else for them to go, Tea Creek paid for transport, stored them on site, and distributed them across the region through community organizations and First Nations community groups. “In one community, it fed everyone for quite a while. They took around 5,000 pounds, and every single family and the school got potatoes. That was a big success.”
The moment revealed what Tea Creek had become, not just a farm, but a piece of regional food infrastructure.
That role will expand again with the construction of a longhouse food hub, supported in part by United Way. “It’ll just be a big open, multi-use space that’s intended to be used for food processing and food-based training and workshops,” Jacob says. “It’s going to allow us to do year-round indoor programming.”
Working With Reality
Tea Creek’s programs succeed in part because they acknowledge realities that many systems ignore.
“A majority of our clients don’t have driver’s licenses,” Jacob says plainly. Without ID, transportation, or access to licensing offices, many people are excluded before most training programs even begin. Tea Creek adapts, offering opportunities to practice driving on site and supporting people through the process. This year, several trainees went from having no license to owning their first vehicle.
Funding models also challenge the process. Jacob notes a disconnect between the time training takes and current funding structures. Meaningful training takes time.
A Model Meant to Spread
Tea Creek isn’t trying to grow into a single dominant operation. Its purpose is replication, not expansion.
“The purpose of Tea Creek was not to be a food production farm,” Jacob says. “It was to be a leadership training center that trains Indigenous people how to get their own operation up and running.”
That vision extends beyond what happens on Tea Creek’s land. Jacob sees the farm as a starting point that can support new, independent operations once people leave.
“My plan is to have centralized equipment that can be rented out,” Jacob says. “Why would every single farmer need the top-of-the-line potato harvester? Let’s just have one harvester that goes farm to farm to farm.”
Tea Creek stands as a working example of what’s possible when Indigenous-led solutions are trusted and resourced. As Jacob puts it, “We’re the comeback to the people who say that First Nations can’t do it or Indigenous people aren’t ready. Absolutely we can, and we are.” Rooted in community and guided by shared knowledge, Tea Creek’s story is still unfolding—inviting others to step in and help build lasting change.
Tea Creek is available to stream now on CBC Gem.
