A story as sharp as a kn.., p.4

A Story as Sharp as a Knife, page 4

 

A Story as Sharp as a Knife
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  English-speaking Haida now call these islands Haida Gwaii,2

  the Islands of the People. That name became official only in 2010.

  Atlases printed up until that date all show the archipelago as the

  Queen Charlotte Islands, a British colonial name imposed in 1787. In

  English, older people, including many Haida, still often refer to the

  place as "the Charlottes." This politically incorrect and affectionate

  nickname may endure for quite some time. The islands lie at the same

  latitude as Ireland, the Netherlands, Lake Baikal, Warsaw and Berlin,

  but in the grip of different weather, in a different fold of time.

  The Gregorian calendar meant nothing in Haida Gwaii at the

  time of Ghandl's birth. It was at most a mysterious rumor - like the

  Christian faith, the roman alphabet, the Greenwich prime meridian

  and the reigns of the English kings. But if later missionary records are

  accurate, the year of Ghandl's birth, by European reckoning, was 1851.

  He belonged to a family called the Qayahl Llaanas, the Sealion

  People, of the Eagle side or moiety. Because inheritance is matrilineal

  in the Haida world, all children, male and female, take the family

  name of their mother. Ghandl's father (whose name I do not know)

  belonged to a family or lineage called Hlghaaxhitgu Llaanas, the

  Pebble Beach People, of the Raven side. But Ghandl was a Sealion

  Person, because that was his mother's lineage, and he was an Eagle,

  because that was his mother's family's moiety or side.

  The people of Qaysun abandoned their village about 1875, after

  a series of smallpox epidemics had swept through Haida Gwaii.

  With other refugees, they built a new town at an old site known as

  Xayna, which means Sunshine, on the sheltered east side of the archipelago, where traders came more often. In the 1890s, after more

  bouts of smallpox, measles and other disease, the survivors moved

  to Skidegate, the new mission town displacing the old Haida village of Hlghagilda.

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  chapter one: Goose Food

  Hlghagilda is west of Attawapiskat and Wetaskiwin, east of

  Petropavlovsk and Unalaska, south of Tuktoyaktuk and Chutine, and

  north of five thousand miles of open ocean and a rock called Pitcairn

  Island. If you triangulate from Paris and New York, Jerusalem and

  Rome, the Haida village of Hlghagilda may seem, in consequence,

  remote. It is true the outside world has taken from it less than what

  it offered and a great deal more than it could give - and that is one

  definition of remote. But it needed, and still needs, little or nothing

  of what the colonial world can offer. In that sense, it is not remote

  at all. In fact, like every place where birds sing and people pause to

  listen and a storyteller speaks, it is the center of the world.

  *

  The verb to be brave in Haida is sqaatsi. A number of names, titles and nicknames have grown from this root. There are elaborate forms

  like Sqaatsidaahlging (Belly Full of Bravery) and simple ones like

  Sqaatsigins (Always Brave), Nang Sqaatsis (One Who Is Brave) and

  Sqaatsigaay (Bravery Itself). The latter name, used by a headman of

  the Qayahl Llaanas family of Qaysun, caught the ears of the early

  British traders who anchored near the town and was transmuted

  into Scots Guy. The few British sailors who knew of Qaysun then

  began to call it Scots Guy's Cove, and the people of Qaysun learned

  that Scots Guy was a handy name to use in all transactions involving Europeans.3 A short-lived gold rush around 1852 gave Qaysun

  another English name, Gold Harbour, but the anchorage is charted

  even now as Skotsgai Bay.

  In 1884, Methodist missionaries started a steady campaign of

  conversion among the smallpox survivors in southern Haida Gwaii.

  Hundreds of southern Haida were baptized over the next few years,

  and in the village of Xayna on Sunday, 25 December 1887, Ghandl of

  the Qayahl Llaanas joined their number.4 The officiating clergyman

  recorded Ghandl's age as 36 and interpreted his name in the colloquial terms of the time : not as Fresh-Water-Person of the Sealion

  People but as Water of Scots Guy's Family. The missionary gave this

  name what he regarded as a proper Christian form, and Ghandl was

  henceforth known to speakers of English as Walter McGregor.

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  a story as sharp as a knife

  Stormblown poles in the empty village of Qaysun, on the west coast of Haida

  Gwaii, summer 1901. In the foreground is the housepole of Wiixhaws of the Qayahl Llaanas, still erect in front of the disintegrating houseframe. Photograph by C.F.

  Newcombe.

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  The worst single outbreak of smallpox to hit Haida Gwaii came

  in 1862, when Ghandl was about eleven. During that year alone,

  the Haida population fell by more than half.5 Six years later came a

  severe epidemic of measles, lethal to many more native people up

  and down the Northwest Coast. Ghandl survived these disasters and

  others, but sometime before his move to Hlghagilda in the 1890s,

  a bout of smallpox or measles cost him his sight.6 From that point

  on, the time he might have spent on the traditional professions of

  an adult Haida male - fishing, seahunting, woodworking, trading -

  went largely into listening instead. Even in his forties, he possessed

  extraordinary skill as an oral poet and extraordinary insight as a

  scholar of the seen and the unseen. In the midst of continuous death,

  evacuation and destruction, followed by aggressive transformation

  of his culture, Ghandl collected the remnants of an old and fundamentally celebratory tradition. We owe him much of what we have

  in the way of classical Haida literature, and much of what we know

  of Haida thought before the Christian missionization.

  *

  Ghandl of the Qayahl Llaanas of Qaysun, or Walter McGregor, the

  blind poet of Sunshine and Sealion Town, spent the month of November 1900 telling stories - that is to say, dictating his condensed,

  tightly woven narrative poetry - to a 27-year-old linguist from the

  state of Maine. The linguist was John Reed Swanton (1873-1958), a

  self-effacing man who spent a year in Haida Gwaii and years more

  making sense of what he learned while he was there. He became,

  by what we might call accident, a figure of considerable importance

  in Haida cultural history.

  A third important person joined Ghandl and Swanton at each

  session : a young bilingual Haida whose Christian name was Henry

  Moody ( c. 1871-1945). He was Swanton's tutor, assistant and guide,

  and during these long sessions of dictation - typically six hours a

  day - he was the storyteller's primary audience and the linguist's

  second tongue and set of ears. His task was to listen to the poem

  and repeat it sentence by sentence in a loud, clear, slow voice, proving to the poet he had heard each word and giving Swanton time to

  write it down. 7 Ghandl spoke, a sentence or two at a time, Moody

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  a story as sharp as a knife

  repeated, and Swanton wrote, hour after hour, day after day. On

  one of those wet November days, Ghandl began a poem with the

  following words :

  Ll gidaagang wansuuga.

  Kkuxu gyaa' at gutgu lla giistingdyas.

  Ll xhitiit ttsinhlghwaanggwang qawdi

  llanagaay diitsi qahlagaagang wansuuga.

  Ttsalaay waghii gwatxhaawasi

  5

  suughii lla qaagyaganggandi xhan

  ll gyuugha hlgitghun kyingaangas.

  Gyaanhaw gha la qaagasi.

  Ga jaada sting suugha ghaadangdyas.

  Tlaagi giina sqqagidaasi gu

  10

  hlgitghun qqaal ttlsting xhaxiiwas.

  Kkit qqul ghaada qqaghattiisgasi.

  Lla qindi qawdihaw

  lla dawghattlxhasi.... 8

  14

  There was a child of good family, they say.

  [ 1 ]

  He wore two marten-skin blankets.

  After he took up the shooting of birds,

  he went inland, uphill from the village, they say.

  Going through the pines,

  just to where the ponds lay,

  he heard geese calling.

  Then he went in that direction.

  There were two women bathing in a lake.

  Something lay there on the shore.

  10

  Two goose skins were thrown over it.

  Under their tails were patches of white.

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  chapter one: Goose Food

  After watching for a while,

  he swooped in.

  He sat on the two skins.

  The women asked to have them back.

  He asked the better-looking one to marry him.

  The other one replied.

  <<
  I am smarter. Marry me.>>>

  20

  <<>>

  And she said that she accepted him, they say.

  <<
  You caught us bathing in a lake

  that belongs to our father.

  Now give me my skin.>>>

  He gave it back.

  She slipped it on

  while she was swimming in the lake.

  A goose swam in the lake then,

  30

  and then she started calling,

  and then she flew, they say,

  though leaving her younger sister

  sickened her heart.

  She circled above them.

  Then she flew off, they say.

  She passed through the sky.

  He gave the younger woman one of his marten-skin blankets,

  and he brought her home, they say.

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  a story as sharp as a knife

  A two-headed redcedar stood at the edge of the village,

  40

  and he put his wife's skin between the trunks.

  Then he brought her into his father's house.

  The headman's son had taken a wife.

  [ 2 ]

  So his father invited the people, they say.

  They offered her food.

  She did nothing but smell it.

  She ate no human food at all.

  Later, her husband's mother

  started steaming silverweed, 9 they say.

  Then she paid closer attention.

  When her husband's mother was still busy cooking,

  50

  she asked her husband

  to ask her to hurry, they say.

  They placed it before her.

  It vanished.

  And then they began to feed her this only, they say.

  After a time, as he was sleeping,

  his wife lay down beside him,

  and her skin was cold.

  When it happened again,

  he decided to watch her, they say.

  He lay still in the bed,

  60

  and he felt her moving away from him slowly, they say.

  Then she went out.

  He followed behind her.

  She walked along the beach in front of the village.

  She went where the skin was kept.

  From there, she flew.

  She landed beyond the point at the edge of town.

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  chapter one: Goose Food

  He started toward her.

  She was eating the eelgrass 10 that grew there,

  and the breaking waves were lifting her back toward shore.

  70

  He saw her, they say.

  And then she flew back where they kept her skin.

  He got back to the house

  before she did, they say.

  There he lay down,

  and soon his wife lay down beside him, cold.

  A famine began in the village, they say.

  One day, without leaving her seat, she said,

  <<>> Back of the village, geese began landing and honking.

  80

  She went there.

  They followed her.

  Food of many kinds was lying there :

  silverweed and clover roots. 11

  They carried it home.

  And her father-in-law invited the people, they say.

  When that was entirely gone,

  she said it again :

  <<>> Geese began landing and honking again in back of the village.

  90

  They went there.

  There were piles, again, of many kinds of food.

  Again they brought it home.

  And her father-in-law again invited the people.

  Then, they say, someone in the village said,

  <<>>

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  a story as sharp as a knife

  The woman heard it.

  She got up to leave at that moment, they say.

  Her husband tried to dissuade her.

  No use.

  100

  She had settled on leaving.

  It was the same

  when he tried to dissuade her in front of the town.

  She went where her skin was.

  Then she flew.

  She flew in circles over the town,

  and leaving her husband sickened her heart, they say.

  And then she passed through the sky.

  After that, her husband was constantly weeping, they say.

  An old man had a house at the edge of the village.

  [ 3 ]

  He went there and asked,

  110

  <<>>

  <<
  whose mother and father are not of this world.>>>

  And the old man began to fit him out.

  He gave him a bone marlinspike

  for working with cedar-limb line.

  Then he said,

  <<
  Get two sharp wedges too.

  And a comb and a cord and salmon roe

  and a coho skin and a spearhead.

  Get all these.>>>

  After he gathered what he needed,

  120

  he came back to him, they say.

  <<>>

  38

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  chapter one: Goose Food

  <<
  Take the narrowest of the trails that lead from my house.>>>

  Then he set off.

  After walking awhile,

  [ 4.1 ]

  he came upon someone infested with lice.

  He was trying to catch the lice by turning around.

  After he had stared at him awhile,

  the other said,

  130

  <<
  I have long been expecting you.>>>

  Then he went up close,

  and he combed out his hair.

  He rubbed him with oil

  and picked off the lice.

  And he gave him the comb and the rest of the oil.

  The other one said,

  <<>>

  Again he set off.

  140

  After walking awhile,

  [ 4.2 ]

  he saw a small mouse in front of him.

  There was a cranberry in her mouth.

  Then she came to a fallen tree,

  and she looked for a way to go over it.

  He let her step onto his open hand

  and put her across.

  She laid her tail up between her ears

  and ran ahead.

  Not far away, she went under some ferns.

  150

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  a story as sharp as a knife

  He rested there,

  and something said,

  <<>>

  Then he parted the fronds of the ferns.

  He was standing in front of a large house.

  He walked through the door.

  There was the headwoman dishing up cranberries.

  She spoke with grace.

  Her voice had big round eyes.

  After she'd offered him something to eat,

  160

  Mouse Woman said to him,

  <<
  back from my berry patch,

  you helped me.

  I intend to lend you something that I wore

  for stalking prey when I was younger.>>>

  She brought out a box.

  She pulled out four more boxes within boxes.

  In the innermost box was the skin of a mouse

  with small bent claws.

  She said to him,

  <<>>

  170

  Small though it was, he got into it.

  It was easy.

  He went up the wall and into the roof of the house.

 

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