Does keeping Native languages alive even matter? Part 3

I've loved seeing the great comments left by my previous two posts on the question of language revitilzation and extinction. Here's the third installment in this subject I could go on and on (and seemingly have) about, and discussion of the many arguments I've heard against keeping Native languages alive:

"We're all Americans now!" - or "Why do we have to dwell on the past?"

This is possibly one of the more frustrating arguments for me, personally, mostly because it's not an argument with anything except an attitude of "This is how I want it to be" behind it, and not trying to understand what's actually going on.

While the oft-cited "Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it" comes to mind, it is a woman who was in the same school my grandmother was that I think of when this is the argument.

You see, I was pretty hard-headed myself about language, only in a different way. I did not think much of my grandparents "giving up" their language. I mean, in exactly one generation, they'd "decided" to give it up. They chose to not pass it on to their children, who in turn could NOT pass it on to me!

But then I heard this woman tell her story, the story of what happened when she went to school. She said what I'd heard before, but I'd never heard it from someone who experienced it, much less someone who experienced it in the same school, at the same time as my grandma. These children, five and six years old, were beaten for speaking Tlingit. They were whipped if they uttered it. Try to imagine yourself at five years old, speaking how you speak at home, and getting hit.

But then she said, "The smart ones got hit the most." And they learned to undo it the fastest.

The "smart ones" - the natural leaders, the ones not afraid to speak out... at least at first. These are the ones most cruelly treated, and the ones who were most dead-set on not passing on that kind of cruelty to their children.

Could you, having gone through this experience, have sent your five year old to kindergarten knowing how to speak the language you were beaten for speaking? I don't know that I would.

It is in this light I remember that the past is not irrelevant. And forgive me if it also brings to mind a certain animated movie in which there may or may not have been big musical numbers with warthogs and hyenas. Remember in the "Lion King" when Simba tells the monkey it's in the past, and the monkey whacks him on the head? Yeah, the past still hurts.

Okay, searing political insight it may not be, but I would hope the next person who talks about forgetting the past or "just being American" keeps in mind how hurtful those comments can be. I'm proud to be American, and I think speaking the tongue that was spoken here for millenia is an incredibly patriotic thing to do. I wish I knew more, I wish I was committed enough to be bilingual, and I don't see how my nation could be anything but benefitted by me and my children and my children's children being the same.

And how can I forget the past that brought me to where I am today? Why would I want to? What's more, why would we, as a nation want to forget that? If it makes you uncomfortable, if it makes you sad, or feel ashamed - fine. It makes me feel those things too. But if we forget the things that make us uncomfortable, we must also forget that which makes us proud, and comforted, and passionate. The brief discomfort I may feel by remembering all the true history of our not-so-distant past is a small price to pay for that.

Nudging my way into existence

Bearing in mind my voice might be echoing in the halls here, I still felt a desire to comment on something I saw in the ADN Newsreader today. Or rather, something the Newsreader brought from the Stop and Smell the Lichen blog.

Nuna Inua starts out, "I do not exist."

It goes on more about how it is her position, her job that does not exist as far as traditional culture. What position is there of "artist" in traditional culture, and how can creating art possibly trample upon culture?

It is something I have struggled with as a Tlingit fiction writer. While engaging since high school in nonfiction forms of publication, it is creative fiction that has my heart. Tlingit culture, I think, embraces the idea of "artist" more readily than what Nuna Inua describes her own culture as being able to define. There is no traditional "artist" who "only" created art for a living, but it was a position nontheless. People talented and disciplined in beautiful carving would supplement their own living by creating commissioned pieces to wealthy folk. This kind of practice goes far, far back in our culture.

But, as my mother said, "There's no such thing as Tlingit fiction."

In trying to recreate ficitonal stories from traditional legend, I now begin to wrestle with how I can do this without "lying" by creating a part that is not true to history, without plagiarism, without taking from what belongs to others. You see, while Native stories are more often labeled as "myth and legend" in educational circles, these stories were passed down for millenia as history. Fact. Only in very modern times has society begun to play with our culture's history as fiction, with little regard to the ramifications.

So, as a fiction writer trying to honor my culture's past, how do I fictionalize it and honor it at the same time?

To be honest, I'm not completely sure that my story isn't going to be rejected outright by many Elders immediately, despite the care I've taken for that not to happen, and despite my own fears.

There are many things in my culture, and I imagine in other Native cultures, that honor the past by "dishonoring" it. Tlingit people have so much complicated protocol, a traditional political and familial system that still weaves its way into contemporary politics and family life - and I love it. But it does present some difficulties for the modern Tlingit fiction writer.

Whenever you see a traditional Tlingit dance group, remember that there used to be no such thing. Everybody danced, everybody knew their clan songs, and they sang them with the clan. The need for, or the entertainment value of, a dance group would be quite strange. Being a member of one, I'm not saying there isn't a need now - but you see how things that are even now considered "traditional" become a little hairy when you talk about how traditional they really are? Yet a culture that does not change is not alive.

I was very intrigued by the inherent questions posed in the blog, because they are things I've long struggled with, and, clearly, I'm not alone in. How do you balance the razor's edge between tradition and adaptation? How do you keep a culture alive if it never changes - yet how much change makes the culture extinct? I like a friend's description of how Alaska Native cultures are in a twilight period between what they were, and what they will become... but it is still a bit bittersweet to think of.
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I'm a firm believer that art will play a monumental part in the revival of Native culture in Alaska. So how do we artists, we Native people, we "real human beings" navigate this new realm built on the shoulders of our ancestors?

_

Raven Tales - Anyone seen this before?

I was e-mailed a link to this Canadian program called "Raven Tales." I've never seen it before - but wow! I would love to have this here! There were a few things I didn't quite agree with - some disrespect to Elders and spirits especially, but what a great idea!

Looks like it was from a few years ago, but I'm going to check out some more...

Nicholas Galanin - meet your new fan

I seem to be running to the artistic world quite a bit lately, not something I'm exactly regretting. Now I'm not regretting checking out the link Grassroots Science sent me earlier - this man is brilliant.

I am not familiar with the work of Nicholas Galanin - but I plan on becoming something of a groupie after this. I spent forever on his Web site, checking out some of the very cerebral, yet... well, freaking COOL works he's done.

Much of what he does is not simply "pretty art." It is really an examination of Native (specifically, Tlingit) culture in the modern world.

One exhibition, "What Have We Become?" presents something I myself have questioned, debated, pondered, gone after for years - and struggle with as a growing writer. From the artist:

In the past, Tlingit culture was preserved orally through story telling, song and visually through art. In researching my cultural history and heritage I have found myself reading western literature, often written from a foreign perspective in which my culture has been digested and recycled back to me. Although literature is important for the retention of culture it raises issues about identity and authenticity that I must confront as a contemporary Tlingit artist. It also presents a dilemma in which old and new, customary and non-customary overlap and collide. It is at this point of collision that a new dynamic and tension is being negotiated.

This very question - and attitude - is a big motivating factor in answering the question, "Why do I write?" So many of even the leading examples of Tlingit culture in fiction or non-fiction are from an outside perspective, from the "stranger's" eyes. The theme, really just a recurring question, in so many short stories of mine has been a bit of literary wrestling with this. For that matter, much of the reason for this BLOG is because of the questions raised above.

Above piece is The Good Book Vol. 15 by Nocholas Galanin.

_

Will you be my Tsimshian Valentine?

I trekked over to the Alaska Native Heritage Center this beautiful Valentine's Day, as they were having their annual celebration of Alaska Native civil rights. Monday is Elizabeth Peratrovich Day (I'll be explaining that tomorrow!) and the Heritage Center once again brought up the Tsimshian dance group Git Hoan from Washington.

If you get a chance to see this group, GO. They are a great example of traditional culture adapting to modern society. And they're GOOD. Really good. The leader is David Boxley, a master artist originally from (new) Metlakatla, Alaska. Boxley was one of the key people in this wonderful revival of Tsimshian culture in Alaska, and now the world.

The pic beside this is a close up of a raven mask. Boxley carves most (if not all) of the group's masks, half the reason to go see them!






One of the dances they did seemed so ironically appropriate for Valentine's Day. These pretty women represent the evil land otter spirits. In Tsimshian culture, the young men will see the land otters as pretty women, and young women will see them as handsome men. So the women here are giving their "come hither" hands to the audience, and to groups of hunters, and even a shaman.

But at the select moment...



They turn into the evil land otters, and take the hunters back to their cave! The dancers slip on the masks to represent the transformation. It is definitely a dance you have to see in person. The hunters especially really ham it up when they get (willfully!) caught by these pretty young ladies.








But then a very powerful shaman comes along...

















And they are defeated.

Happy Sweetheart's Day.


Tlingit culture has similar monsters, the Kushdakaa. They are also evil sea otter spirits, and are the ones responsible for all the lost hunters at sea, among other things. I'll tell you, I grew up hearing about them, and you don't generally put much stock in them, as far as being afraid.

That is, until you are around a fire on the beach at night with a bunch of other Tlingit, Tsimshian and Haida people all talking about what silly stories they are. Then you start hearing noises, and all of a sudden you're a believer...


One of the things coming back in Northwest Coast culture is transformation masks, and Boxley is one of the best at it. For most of the song, you're just impressed with this great big mask this guy is hauling around. Then...
















... it transforms!

As they said during the performance, for as "theatrical" as they get, this is all traditional. They used to have some really crazy ways of doing masks and things that moved, or were just huge.














Another audience favorite was the story of Mouse Woman. Here, the evil cannibal giant is roaming around.... (He really frightened one of the children in the audience!)















Wise Mouse Woman tries to warn the hunters, one by one, of the evil cannibal giant, but they are foolish, and do not listen to her. The giant kills and eats them.

Boxley: "Mouse Woman knows what men will do."













But this girl is wise, honors Mouse Woman, and listens to her advice. When the evil cannibal giant comes for her, she is prepared, and is not killed.

Just one more story of girls rockin' the boys... :)










Here is Boxley performing the "Spirit of the Potlatch." I thought it quite appropriate.

See, the Tsimshian people of Alaska were "immigrants" of sorts to Alaska. They moved from "old" Metlakatla in British Columbia to "new" Metlakatla following a missionary, Father Duncan, in the late 1880's.

Part of following him meant giving up culture, giving up the old ways, old customs. There were no potlatches for nearly a hundred years (though there were some "underground" ones.) In the 1980's, Boxley put on the first Tsimshian potlatch, and has been instrumental in the remembering of this culture.





One of my favorite dances - the Raven song. Besides being a beautiful song, these three ravens move just like ravens, and at a certain point in the song they all raise their beaks and click the moving masks like ravens do.

The first pic in this post, above, shows the close up of the masks.












The Tsimsian people have four clans - Raven, Eagle, Wolf and Killer Whale. All Tsimshian people belong to one of these clans.

In the Tlingit culture, we have two "moieties" sort of like the Tsimshian clans - Raven and Eagle. The Canadian (interior) Tlingits have a little bit different system. All (Alaskan, anyways) Tlingits belong to either the Raven or the Eagle moiety, and then each belong to their mother's clan after that (dozens of them) and then come the houses and crests.

Guess whether I'm Raven or Eagle? :)


This was a beautiful song by the women, no dancing, no drums, only their voices and little clacker-rattle type things. It's called, "Our Hearts Are Happy." I still have it stuck in my head...

David Boxley (pictured in the black and tan on the left):

"It's the culture, it's the feelings in our heart, why we're here, and why you're here. We're all doing the right thing."

Davie Boxley, David Boxley's son. I think this guy is going to be a real powerhouse in Alaska Native culture. Here he performs the Chief Headress Honor Song to open their performance.

A local Tsimshian Elder, Frances Haldane, is honored, and given a gift of a bentwood box full of eagle down.

Another of the beautiful transformation masks. Boxley encouraged the audience to use their imaginations with this killer whale song, and it really is beautiful. Part of why this group is so successful is because they really do things the old way - moving like the animals they are representing. You feel like you're watching a pod of killer whales during this song.

The killer whale mask transforms.

Below, their traveling song, before they leave... for the first time! They got encored. Or rather, the crowd shouted "Git-Hoan! Git-Hoan!" until they burst back in. And I mean burst! It was no subtle encore. The encore song was a song all Southeast people could get into. It is regularly used as the Entrance to Celebration in Juneau, where literally thousands of dancers gather and parade through downtown, singing it ("Haa, haa hawei! Haa, haa HAWEI!"). Half the crowd was singing along with them, and we would have stayed longer, but Boxley ended that notion. "No more - I'm tired!"

From Raven's mouth - Ups and downs in Native language news

Yea! First thought when I saw the headline in the Juneau Empire about the Sealaska Heritage Institute's language revitalization efforts. In recent years, I've been noticing an awesome push from SHI - and Southeast in general - for language and cultural programs, education and emphasis.

The article doesn't goo too in depth with what the specific methods are, but I have a bit of an idea. I was happy to discover that my OWN Tlingit teacher, the woman I learned (part of) the traditional Tlingit introduction from (it's LONG guys... seriously long...) subscribes to this.

See, for the first month of class, we barely looked at words, we just did sounds over and over and OVER. We repeated everything she said, in this crazy order she wanted done. She wasn't really concerned about us getting the textbooks at all - some never did. For the first month, seriously, I questioned her teaching style, and whether any of us were going to learn anything.

After a month, she suddenly began teaching us sentences - not short, little words - she went straight into the introduction, a good 15 minutes if you're doing it right. And... we got it! By doing things her way, it literally got drilled into our heads to correct pronunciations, order and inflections. We could then more easily "self-teach" because we had the groundwork already.

I'm not even totally sure how she did it, but by not doing things the way you're taught you're supposed to do them, we got it. It's been a few years, and I can still rattle off this long introduction with no problem.

The article mentions a few against-the-grain kind of teachings that I can see how they would work:

"One of the difficult things is to convince people to not use the printed form too soon," MacDiarmid said. "A lot of people were trained in literacy, and so there's this inclination to introduce the printed form of Tlingit, Haida and Tsimshian to the kids early. And in this process we are trying to pull them back from that."

It was interesting to me to read this literally minutes after reading about the continued struggle in the Bethel area to get the language voting help, and the ugly comments about Native languages that always follow stories like this in the ADN. I wish people would actually take a look at the numerous studies to see what multiple languages and cultural relevancy does for a child's education.

To me, this SHI curriculum looks like an incredibly smart mix of Western idea and traditional teaching. I've written recently about the "either/or" mentality of one is good, so the other must be bad. I love my culture, and hope it will thrive for another ten millenia, but that does not also mean I can't see what other cultures bring to it.

A friend once compared cultures who must meet as a marriage. In a marriage, if the two people really come together "as one," some things will certainly be lost. But what you gain in the meantime is something very beautiful and strong also. But if the couple comes together with each determined to not give an inch of themselves to the other - call it compromise, joining, whatever - much is lost. Not to mention a pretty bad marriage.

The trick is trying to not get totally lost in the other person - in this case one culture not getting lost in the other. I don't believe one culture has to swallow up another, and I adamantly believe the Native people and cultures of Alaska have a whole lot to give the world.

P.S. The above is a picture of my button blanket I use for dancing. Sometime I'll tell the story of it...