By Kali Skalan, Wilps Dawa Muux, Kali Aks Gitxsan
Stekyoodinhl, the mountain guarding the valleys of Xsan and Xsan An Do’o, stand watch over the Gitxsan. She witnessed the arrival of the first Gitxsan; she guided and influenced their evolution. She witnessed the seasonal rise and fall of Xsan, cleansing, reshaping, and remaking her bed. Xsan summoned miso’o, ya’a, sti’mon, malit, laxw. The ageless mountain savoured the fragrant smoke of wilpsahon, the smoke houses, used to cure salmon. She stood quiet as the Gitxsan survived countless famine. She lamented ancient Gitxsan rivalry that trigger tribal skirmishes rewriting adaawk, redefining tribal territories, stunting a family. Since time immemorable, she amplifies the lament of the Gitxsan, pleading to Simogyat’mlaxha.
June 2008. Gitanmaax. Today, Stekyoodinhl is alerted. The cool river wind from down river is different. It carries the cry of a young princess. Stekyoodinhl braces, huge boulders loosen from her cape. The rolling rocks rumble, like crumbs from a chief’s supper napkin, alerting Simogyat Gyat'm Gyamk, the alpha hereditary leader, frog phratry of Gitanmaax village. He pulls his 2008 F-150 Ford truck into the cul-de-sac at the Hagwilget bridge. He rolls out of the cab. As if scripted, Raven the Trickster does his ceremonial fly by. The sound of his black wings amplify then fade. “K’ow k’ow”, laughing. George’s sinewy senses tingle. His spiritual eyes unerringly rise to Stekyoodinhl. The trail of dust clouds loosened by the rolling rocks confirm the alarm. Why has Stekyoodinhl sent boulders down?
On channel 6, the Gitxsan channel, he broadcasts, “PKL, are you on? PKL are you on?” The radio crackles. Momentarily, “Hey Wii Ban, where you are?” “Hey wak. You’re Wii Ban, you bic some bits you. Did you hear that?” “Ooooh yea’. I’m cutting wood at Date Creek. What was that?” Silence. It triggers yet another alert in Simogyat Wii Tsim Ges of the Gistkaast, Kispiox. Unsettled, his swanasxw hones in. It`s fuzzy. The big mountain is upset. What is it?. As if six nickel jaw breakers were in his mouth, he refrains from saying anything more. Wii Tsim Ges has big respect for Gyat’m Gyamk. Something is up. The mosquitos torment Lar in his bush truck. Finally, “There was a rock slide on Stekyoodinhl. Just be ready. Are you up for a sweat? Your lodge?” Without hesitation, “Kay. 5 o’clock tonight.”
3:00 PM. One click from the Gitanmaax Food and Fuel Gas Bar along the Kispiox Road, the sweat lodge of Wii Tsim Ges is poised. When called, obediently, Wildman Jason lights the Fire Without End, 33 grandfather lava rocks from the Stikine area, right at 3 o’clock. I wonder what the sweat is for? Who will be going in? Yeah, Ardythe, Edwin, Jordie, Jonathan, Emmy, Perry Sr.,Merle, Murph, Kelsey, Sheri, Cindy, Niki, Larry, Gary, Gar, Maggie, Karla, Brooklyn, Jeff, Jule, Dare, Cindy, Taylor, Ade, Esse, Stephen, Taylor Tot, Cher, Maddi, Chris, Tom, Graham, Ray, Jeremy, Philip, Harry, Mel will all be there, as usual. Oh yeah, that white guy, Bill the Indian Fighter will be there too. Boy, dip Edwin sure tease him big time. Good thing he’s a good sport. I guess he’s okay. Millie and Mae will be there too. Hope there’s nuff room for everybody. Its prolly got to do with that rock slide earlier today. Boy, those chiefs are sure on the ball.
4:00 PM. Wii Tsim Ges drives in. Wildman leaning on a pitch fork, Man, I want a truck like that. Must have set Lar back about 28 grand. Jason walks the path from the lodge to the soggy parking area, ready. Jay and Lar nod to each other. Jay like all young Gitxsan warrior men, lift their chin, a little arrogant but not enough to threaten, more an affirmation of confidence than disrespect. Lar liked that in the young men. They unload the chairs, keg of water, $8 flat of drinking water from Fields. Wildman knows not to touch Lar’s bundle. Enroute to the lodge, Lar measures the firewood pile. We’ll need more firewood by fall. Even before entering the sacred area, the sacred pipe carrier nods in approval of Jay’s good work. Ho wa'. Clean and tidy. The way it should be for the Creator and the Helpers. The grandfather rocks will be ready by 5. “Am win, Wildman!”
Lar makes ready, sitting in his $9 canvas chair from Wal-Mart, large coffee from the gas bar in hand. Stares into the Fire Without End. Jay: I wonder how he does that. He seems to be in another place when he stares into the fire. Maybe he’ll teach me. I’ll offer him tobacco. 10 minutes pass. Lar: “Ho.” Jay is startled. He’s ready. “What you been up to, Jay?” “Oh, same o. Games. Tweeking my Indian Kamploops car. Waiting for your call.” Lar’s forehead automatically wrinkles a little bit more. He breaks his serious with a Gitxsan grin. Jix. These young guns are sure cheeky. The Fireweeds are the worse. “The usual Jay. Four rounds, 33 Grandfathers. Wii Ban may want to do a special. Be ready.” Lar pulls himself from his chair, getting deeper and deeper. Ho wa’. I have to ease off the KFC. Over to the east door of the lodge, Lar ceremoniously opens his bundle at the altar. Others arrive. Singers with their drums and rattles. Sundancers with their eagle wing fans and whistles. Millie, Perry, Mae arrive with their chairs. When in the sacred area, as always, the women wear long ceremonial skirts, including 6 year old Maddison and 4 year old Rahniqua. Gary arrives with the buffalo robe that his buddy Ma’p had, the buffalo skull from Shigin, Edwin the Ojibway. Lar calls for all the sacred pipes to be loaded. Motions to Jay. Thirteen sacred pipes emerge. Jay with beads of sweat on his oily forehead, not so much from the intense heat from the fire, Ho wa’. Must be something big. Obediently, Wildman loads each pipe and arranges them by seniority on the altar.
4:49 PM. Simogyat Gyat’m Gyamk, George, rolls his 2008 Royal Red Clearcoat Metallic F-150 Ford pickup truck close to the wood pile. Jay is there. Oh man. When I become chief, I’ll have a bigger and better truck. It’ll be loaded. George, in his fancy Nike track suit and sandals, motions Jay to get his beach towel, blanket, deluxe $35 Canadian Tire canvas lawn chair, case of Sun-Rype Apple Juice. Gyamk, sacred bundle under arm, walks the path to the sacred area, nodding, My Wak sure has a big respect for the Creator. Look at this place. Its immaculate. At the edge of the sweat lodge area, he pauses for his usual casual ceremonial inspection of the sacred area. Nodding in approval, “This place is immaculate!” Lar, “Whaa? Eeemac cue let? Speak English eh?. Don’t use those big words like those Chief Councillors at the Gitksan Government Commission. And you’re not white.” A Gitxsan grin breaks George’s feigned serious. Chuckling, “You only went up to grade 4 eh? Were you always in the dumb class at John Field School?” And so it goes. The playful banter between chiefs. Like everyone else, the wii simogyat makes his round of conventional handshakes and hugs when entering into the sacred area. Like a good Gitxsan man, he teases the women and kids just to hear them say “Jix. You’re craaazee!”
Lar waits for George’s grand entrance to peter out. George: “You know already.” Lar doesn’t say anything. After a Gitxsan moment, George: “Okay. Maybe the Wii Niye’ and Wii Nits’eets will give us answers.”
Lar: “The rolling rocks is not for a big chief. It’s an alarm. Gitwangak is not alone. All the villages are the same. Raven the trickster is busy, again. A young woman sang her family’s ancient song. She pleads for her family and village.” The eyes of the simogyat concentrate, straining to contain his tears, staring into the other side. His swanasxw is full blown. “Many young people are giving up. Many have a death wish. The street drug dealers, their cocaine, their meth have a death grip on them. The bootleggers are busy. The cops could only do so much. Many ancient button blankets are soiled. The simgigyat are remiss to give expression to their daxgyat for the majagalay. The young woman`s lament is a plea for life. We have to help. The simgigyat and the sigidimhanak must take the pebbles out of their mouth and algyax. It is critical to invoke the yuuhlimax.” From nowhere, mysterious raven does his tree-top fly past, "k’ow k’ow". “Kelsey. Make ready. You will smoke your pipe before we go in. You know what to do.”
Jay, as the fire-door-man helper, positions himself at the altar to help. Coveting her pipe, Kelsey points the pipe up and to the four directions, summoning, appealing, and showing gratitude at the same time. “Creator. Thank you for all that is. Thank you for all your creations. Thank you for breath and our place in the great circle within circles, ancient teachings, the many ways of praying in our ceremonies, the tools and medicines you have given us to be of service to you and the people, the 2 leggeds, 4 leggeds, swimmers, crawlers, standing up people, the star nation. Thank you for special knowledge, understanding, and insight. Thank you for help and assistance. Thank you for our families, friends, and associates. Surround them with a strong light of protection, a strong light of healing, a strong light of safe and accident free journeys. Be merciful on them, so they may all continue to live. Send us help and assistance. You are so good to us, Creator. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Stekyoodinhl, the mountain guarding the valleys of Xsan and Xsan An Do’o, stand watch over the Gitxsan. She witnessed the arrival of the first Gitxsan; she guided and influenced their evolution. She witnessed the seasonal rise and fall of Xsan, cleansing, reshaping, and remaking her bed. Xsan summoned miso’o, ya’a, sti’mon, malit, laxw. The ageless mountain savoured the fragrant smoke of wilpsahon, the smoke houses, used to cure salmon. She stood quiet as the Gitxsan survived countless famine. She lamented ancient Gitxsan rivalry that trigger tribal skirmishes rewriting adaawk, redefining tribal territories, stunting a family. Since time immemorable, she amplifies the lament of the Gitxsan, pleading to Simogyat’mlaxha.
June 2008. Gitanmaax. Today, Stekyoodinhl is alerted. The cool river wind from down river is different. It carries the cry of a young princess. Stekyoodinhl braces, huge boulders loosen from her cape. The rolling rocks rumble, like crumbs from a chief’s supper napkin, alerting Simogyat Gyat'm Gyamk, the alpha hereditary leader, frog phratry of Gitanmaax village. He pulls his 2008 F-150 Ford truck into the cul-de-sac at the Hagwilget bridge. He rolls out of the cab. As if scripted, Raven the Trickster does his ceremonial fly by. The sound of his black wings amplify then fade. “K’ow k’ow”, laughing. George’s sinewy senses tingle. His spiritual eyes unerringly rise to Stekyoodinhl. The trail of dust clouds loosened by the rolling rocks confirm the alarm. Why has Stekyoodinhl sent boulders down?
On channel 6, the Gitxsan channel, he broadcasts, “PKL, are you on? PKL are you on?” The radio crackles. Momentarily, “Hey Wii Ban, where you are?” “Hey wak. You’re Wii Ban, you bic some bits you. Did you hear that?” “Ooooh yea’. I’m cutting wood at Date Creek. What was that?” Silence. It triggers yet another alert in Simogyat Wii Tsim Ges of the Gistkaast, Kispiox. Unsettled, his swanasxw hones in. It`s fuzzy. The big mountain is upset. What is it?. As if six nickel jaw breakers were in his mouth, he refrains from saying anything more. Wii Tsim Ges has big respect for Gyat’m Gyamk. Something is up. The mosquitos torment Lar in his bush truck. Finally, “There was a rock slide on Stekyoodinhl. Just be ready. Are you up for a sweat? Your lodge?” Without hesitation, “Kay. 5 o’clock tonight.”
3:00 PM. One click from the Gitanmaax Food and Fuel Gas Bar along the Kispiox Road, the sweat lodge of Wii Tsim Ges is poised. When called, obediently, Wildman Jason lights the Fire Without End, 33 grandfather lava rocks from the Stikine area, right at 3 o’clock. I wonder what the sweat is for? Who will be going in? Yeah, Ardythe, Edwin, Jordie, Jonathan, Emmy, Perry Sr.,Merle, Murph, Kelsey, Sheri, Cindy, Niki, Larry, Gary, Gar, Maggie, Karla, Brooklyn, Jeff, Jule, Dare, Cindy, Taylor, Ade, Esse, Stephen, Taylor Tot, Cher, Maddi, Chris, Tom, Graham, Ray, Jeremy, Philip, Harry, Mel will all be there, as usual. Oh yeah, that white guy, Bill the Indian Fighter will be there too. Boy, dip Edwin sure tease him big time. Good thing he’s a good sport. I guess he’s okay. Millie and Mae will be there too. Hope there’s nuff room for everybody. Its prolly got to do with that rock slide earlier today. Boy, those chiefs are sure on the ball.
4:00 PM. Wii Tsim Ges drives in. Wildman leaning on a pitch fork, Man, I want a truck like that. Must have set Lar back about 28 grand. Jason walks the path from the lodge to the soggy parking area, ready. Jay and Lar nod to each other. Jay like all young Gitxsan warrior men, lift their chin, a little arrogant but not enough to threaten, more an affirmation of confidence than disrespect. Lar liked that in the young men. They unload the chairs, keg of water, $8 flat of drinking water from Fields. Wildman knows not to touch Lar’s bundle. Enroute to the lodge, Lar measures the firewood pile. We’ll need more firewood by fall. Even before entering the sacred area, the sacred pipe carrier nods in approval of Jay’s good work. Ho wa'. Clean and tidy. The way it should be for the Creator and the Helpers. The grandfather rocks will be ready by 5. “Am win, Wildman!”
Lar makes ready, sitting in his $9 canvas chair from Wal-Mart, large coffee from the gas bar in hand. Stares into the Fire Without End. Jay: I wonder how he does that. He seems to be in another place when he stares into the fire. Maybe he’ll teach me. I’ll offer him tobacco. 10 minutes pass. Lar: “Ho.” Jay is startled. He’s ready. “What you been up to, Jay?” “Oh, same o. Games. Tweeking my Indian Kamploops car. Waiting for your call.” Lar’s forehead automatically wrinkles a little bit more. He breaks his serious with a Gitxsan grin. Jix. These young guns are sure cheeky. The Fireweeds are the worse. “The usual Jay. Four rounds, 33 Grandfathers. Wii Ban may want to do a special. Be ready.” Lar pulls himself from his chair, getting deeper and deeper. Ho wa’. I have to ease off the KFC. Over to the east door of the lodge, Lar ceremoniously opens his bundle at the altar. Others arrive. Singers with their drums and rattles. Sundancers with their eagle wing fans and whistles. Millie, Perry, Mae arrive with their chairs. When in the sacred area, as always, the women wear long ceremonial skirts, including 6 year old Maddison and 4 year old Rahniqua. Gary arrives with the buffalo robe that his buddy Ma’p had, the buffalo skull from Shigin, Edwin the Ojibway. Lar calls for all the sacred pipes to be loaded. Motions to Jay. Thirteen sacred pipes emerge. Jay with beads of sweat on his oily forehead, not so much from the intense heat from the fire, Ho wa’. Must be something big. Obediently, Wildman loads each pipe and arranges them by seniority on the altar.
4:49 PM. Simogyat Gyat’m Gyamk, George, rolls his 2008 Royal Red Clearcoat Metallic F-150 Ford pickup truck close to the wood pile. Jay is there. Oh man. When I become chief, I’ll have a bigger and better truck. It’ll be loaded. George, in his fancy Nike track suit and sandals, motions Jay to get his beach towel, blanket, deluxe $35 Canadian Tire canvas lawn chair, case of Sun-Rype Apple Juice. Gyamk, sacred bundle under arm, walks the path to the sacred area, nodding, My Wak sure has a big respect for the Creator. Look at this place. Its immaculate. At the edge of the sweat lodge area, he pauses for his usual casual ceremonial inspection of the sacred area. Nodding in approval, “This place is immaculate!” Lar, “Whaa? Eeemac cue let? Speak English eh?. Don’t use those big words like those Chief Councillors at the Gitksan Government Commission. And you’re not white.” A Gitxsan grin breaks George’s feigned serious. Chuckling, “You only went up to grade 4 eh? Were you always in the dumb class at John Field School?” And so it goes. The playful banter between chiefs. Like everyone else, the wii simogyat makes his round of conventional handshakes and hugs when entering into the sacred area. Like a good Gitxsan man, he teases the women and kids just to hear them say “Jix. You’re craaazee!”
Lar waits for George’s grand entrance to peter out. George: “You know already.” Lar doesn’t say anything. After a Gitxsan moment, George: “Okay. Maybe the Wii Niye’ and Wii Nits’eets will give us answers.”
Lar: “The rolling rocks is not for a big chief. It’s an alarm. Gitwangak is not alone. All the villages are the same. Raven the trickster is busy, again. A young woman sang her family’s ancient song. She pleads for her family and village.” The eyes of the simogyat concentrate, straining to contain his tears, staring into the other side. His swanasxw is full blown. “Many young people are giving up. Many have a death wish. The street drug dealers, their cocaine, their meth have a death grip on them. The bootleggers are busy. The cops could only do so much. Many ancient button blankets are soiled. The simgigyat are remiss to give expression to their daxgyat for the majagalay. The young woman`s lament is a plea for life. We have to help. The simgigyat and the sigidimhanak must take the pebbles out of their mouth and algyax. It is critical to invoke the yuuhlimax.” From nowhere, mysterious raven does his tree-top fly past, "k’ow k’ow". “Kelsey. Make ready. You will smoke your pipe before we go in. You know what to do.”
Jay, as the fire-door-man helper, positions himself at the altar to help. Coveting her pipe, Kelsey points the pipe up and to the four directions, summoning, appealing, and showing gratitude at the same time. “Creator. Thank you for all that is. Thank you for all your creations. Thank you for breath and our place in the great circle within circles, ancient teachings, the many ways of praying in our ceremonies, the tools and medicines you have given us to be of service to you and the people, the 2 leggeds, 4 leggeds, swimmers, crawlers, standing up people, the star nation. Thank you for special knowledge, understanding, and insight. Thank you for help and assistance. Thank you for our families, friends, and associates. Surround them with a strong light of protection, a strong light of healing, a strong light of safe and accident free journeys. Be merciful on them, so they may all continue to live. Send us help and assistance. You are so good to us, Creator. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Jay’s chubby fingers fumbles with the stick matches. Kelsey draws in a piece of Fire Without End. The tobacco lights. In the pipe bowl, like a crucible of life, sacred breath, tobacco medicine, and fire are joined to make smoke. The fragrant smoke of cherry-flavoured tobacco rises to the universe so all of creation will hear the intense asking. Kelsey spends all the tobacco. Jay gives Kelsey water to ease the bite of the tobacco. Everybody chuckles when she hiccups. The Grandmothers are playing with Kelsey reminding her to be humble. She surrenders the pipe to Jay who puts Kels’ pipe in its place.
Kelsey cries. Lar motions her dad. Murph is already there. Kelsey weeps on her dad’s strong shoulder. Lar pauses and gives Kelsey lots of room. Even tough-guy Wildman Jason is caught up in the moment, Aaaah. Human beans are always awkward and clumsy. The Grandmothers see that we did things correctly this time. Kels did good
Lar: “Jay. Five first. Then eight more. The women first, then the men. Singers be ready.” The sweat lodger leader stripped down to his fancy $25 shorts, bends down to enter the lodge, humbling himself as he crawls to west point of the lodge. Makes himself comfortable, his rattle, bottle of Bear root from Edwin, eagle whistle, and eagle wing fan in place. Jay: “Ho, Grandfather coming in.” The first finds its place in the centre of the lodge. One at a time, another red hot Grandfather enters its realm, finding its place in the east. The next, south. Then west. And finally, north. Lar: “Eight more.” Jay: “I know.” Lar subtly shakes his head Damn those young ones think they know everything. Eight more find their place. The ground-up Bear root medicine sprinkled on the 13 Grandfathers smokes on contact, waiting to surround the pledgers when they crawl in. “Women.” One by one, they find their place, clockwise, “Ho. All my relations.” Ardythe sits at the south door. Sheri at the west. “Men.” Like the others, they smudge their feet before crawling in. Wii Ban is directed to take the north door. Bill the Indian Fighter, the white guy, as always, without being asked, volunteers to handle the Grandfathers as they come in. Everybody else finds their place. Lar sprinkles more Bear root on the glowing rocks, pushes the fragrant medicine to each pledger with his eagle-wing fan. Already Gary is fidgeting in the heat, sweat pouring from his forehead. Lar: “You okay, Wakkie?” Gary, head down, with his beach towel around his neck, nods, “I’m okay.”
“You coming in Jay?” Sweating, Jay shakes his head. Lar: I wonder when Jay is coming in. Awesome helper but he never comes in. Not even when Eric is here. “Kay. Door”. Wildman does his work. Just to bug Jay, Tom hollers, “There’s a light to the left of Bill.” As expected, really annoyed Gitxsan-style, Jay: “I know.” Everybody laughs. Jay hollers back, “You’ll paaaay. I’m the door maaaan. Ha ha.” Everybody chuckling. From somewhere: “Whatever Wildman.”
The first door, as usual, is the gratitude round. Lar calls for rattles, drum, and whistles when he invokes the beautiful calling in song. In Gitananimax, Ardythe sends up her voice of thanksgiving from the women’s side. Filled with gratitude for all that is, she cries. Then Gyamk, strangely quiet, offers his gratitude from the men’s side. He struggles. He just about breaks but recovers his chiefly poise. Lar: “Sheri. Song.” Sheri together with Niki and Cindy sing the Creator song. After four starts, Lar calls for the door. Lar: “Eight more, Jay.” Just to bug Lar, Jay: “I know.”
The Grandmother-sister round is for the female side of creation. Intense askings are released into the universe for them. Tom sings the gambling song. He explains life is a gamble. The young girl’s plea from Gitwangak weighs heavy on Lar. He calls on Jordie to call the Grandmother Spirits for the young girl. Jord asks very intensely; she cries deeply for her people. To help his daughter, Gary invokes a healing song, seven starts before he finishes. Thinking about Maddi, Cher spontaneously pleads to the Creator for mercy, for a divine intervention in the tender lives of the majagalay, flowers, of the Gitxsan, to give them guidance through the ‘thin skin’ stage of the Gitxsan life cycle. Moved by her daughter’s s plea, Gary triggers a time immemorial song from Wilps Dawa Muux. He has a hard time and breaks before finishing. After finishing, silence, the Creator’s language, lingers for a spiritual moment. Lar, having a hard time: “This round has been good. This round is finished. Door.” Outside, Jay, just to bug: “What?” Everybody: “DOOR. NOW.” The canvas-door opens. Light floods in, destroying the darkness. Lar: “We’ll break for one smoke. Water.”
Eight more red-hot Grandfather stones find their place in the lodge. In the darkness, Lar pronounces the start of the Grandfather-brother round. Lar: “Tom. Bear song. Four starts. ” Drum in hand, Tom sings to appease and call the bear spirit into the lodge. Each start is accompanied with a series of eagle-wing bone whistles. Tom sings his best. Everybody joins his petition to the spirit helpers. Lar: “Perry.” Ever-ready, the youthful elder from Glen Vowell pauses to compose himself like all simgigyat who are trained properly. He deliberately amplifies his pleadings to the Creator in Gitxsanimax . Although all were Gitxsan except Bill, most of the pledgers in the lodge did not understand Perry’s intense prayer. Everybody knew he was pleading for the lives of the Gitxsan men who were getting left behind by the women. The Gitxsan cycle is out of balance. Perry appealed for help. Lar: “Am win, Wak, am win. George.” Pause. From a distance, a muffled “K’ow k’ow” unsettling the lodge. To restore order, security, and comfort, Lar: “You are completely safe in the lodge. When you’re ready, simogyat”. Finally, the simogyat pleads intensely for sweet answers and assistance for the young woman from Gitwangak lament. George weeps. Nobody has ever heard the big chief cry before. “I am humbled with the weight of the blanket. Sometimes I feel inadequate. Sometimes, I wish I never accepted the big name. The state of the Gitxsan is not good and there seem to no relief in sight. How bad will it get before we get answers. How many will die premature deaths? The people are not well, not happy. What are we to do? The young people demand answers from their leaders. They deserve it. But, I do not have answers. I don’t know what to do. Creator, please, help me. Be merciful on the people. Send help, assistance, and inspiration. Please.” Then quiet signalling the finish of the hereditary chief’s emptying-out. Lar hollers: “Jay. Seven pinches of tobacco for the people. Sheri, song.” The beautiful Grandmother song is sent to the universe. The third door concludes. Silence. The pledgers retreat to their own space, moved by the George’s .disclosure. Do all simgigyat feel that way? Wildman passes water and juice around to re-energize the pledgers. Mae and Doris, nodding their heads Gitxsan-sytle, sit quietly in their chairs by the fire acknowledging the words of the wii simogyat. Its rare that a wii simogyat admit inadequacy. After three rounds, everybody is spent.
Lar: “Okay, let’s go. Jay, all but one. Let’s finish this. There’s a bic bingo tonight.” Everyone knows Lar does not bingo. They chuckle at Lar’s poke at the Gitxsan passion to game; they would probably choose to dab rather than do sacred purification ceremony to help themselves. The soggy pledgers crawl back in, fidgeting, finding their place. Lar: “Maybe I should have brought my bingo bag into the lodge.” More snickers. Jay: “Okay. You guys quit funning my mom and auntie.” More Gitxsan chuckles. As always, he positions the board from door to the pit from which to slide the Grandfather rocks in. Quiet settles in. After they are all in, Lar: “Door.” Everybody checks for any light coming in. They know not to bug Wildman anymore. Or else, he will say, “Borrrring.” Nobody wants to give him the one up. More bear root is sprinkled. Lar fans them. “Let the medicine surround you and blend with you. Last round. Be selfish. Think only of yourself. Pray for yourself. Gar will sing, then I will send them back. Cover up.” Four splashes of sacred water turns to burning steam, forcing pledgers to retreat as far as they could. “One for the pipes.” Splash. “Gar.” Gary’s rattle picks up a parade beat. Four whistles pierce the lodge. The eagle song from the Red Shadow Singers of Sangheen, Manitoba picks up. The crescendo becomes urgent. Lar hollers: “Three more starts. Jay. Seven pinches.” Individal murmurings fill the lodge. As the eagle song fades, Lar’s “Ama ya” song lifts up so the spirits will see our thanksgiving. Seven starts. Each start is more appealing than the previous. Finally, quiet. Pledgers scramble to cover themselves with their towels. They are no match for the water medicine. Lar pours the remaining water on the Grandfather rocks. Exposed skin burns. From the darkness, some of the pledgers whimper. Without waiting, someone hollers, “DOOR. DOOR.” Lar: “It is finished. All my relations, open the door.” Finally, Jay pulls the canvas door wide open. “Holy smoke". He backs off from the door opening allowing the burning hot steam to find its place in the heavens. The light destroys the darkness. A veteran pledger hollers, “Don’t move. If you do, it’ll get you.” Moments pass. Finally, heads emerge from towel coverings, testing the air. “Ho wa’. Lar: "Everybody smoke your pipes right away. There's tobacco at the altar." Some exit right away. One by one, each pledger shows a thanksgiving to the Creator by offering a pinch of tobacco to the Fire Without End. Wildman is poised by the door to offer his strong arm. George eyes Lar, measuring him: “Good one, Lar. Thank you.” Everyone gives the sacred pipe holders sacred space to smoke their pipes. A few share their pipes; the women smoke theirs; the warriors theirs. Then they ceremoniously bundle them up, ready for the next time.
Kelsey cries. Lar motions her dad. Murph is already there. Kelsey weeps on her dad’s strong shoulder. Lar pauses and gives Kelsey lots of room. Even tough-guy Wildman Jason is caught up in the moment, Aaaah. Human beans are always awkward and clumsy. The Grandmothers see that we did things correctly this time. Kels did good
Lar: “Jay. Five first. Then eight more. The women first, then the men. Singers be ready.” The sweat lodger leader stripped down to his fancy $25 shorts, bends down to enter the lodge, humbling himself as he crawls to west point of the lodge. Makes himself comfortable, his rattle, bottle of Bear root from Edwin, eagle whistle, and eagle wing fan in place. Jay: “Ho, Grandfather coming in.” The first finds its place in the centre of the lodge. One at a time, another red hot Grandfather enters its realm, finding its place in the east. The next, south. Then west. And finally, north. Lar: “Eight more.” Jay: “I know.” Lar subtly shakes his head Damn those young ones think they know everything. Eight more find their place. The ground-up Bear root medicine sprinkled on the 13 Grandfathers smokes on contact, waiting to surround the pledgers when they crawl in. “Women.” One by one, they find their place, clockwise, “Ho. All my relations.” Ardythe sits at the south door. Sheri at the west. “Men.” Like the others, they smudge their feet before crawling in. Wii Ban is directed to take the north door. Bill the Indian Fighter, the white guy, as always, without being asked, volunteers to handle the Grandfathers as they come in. Everybody else finds their place. Lar sprinkles more Bear root on the glowing rocks, pushes the fragrant medicine to each pledger with his eagle-wing fan. Already Gary is fidgeting in the heat, sweat pouring from his forehead. Lar: “You okay, Wakkie?” Gary, head down, with his beach towel around his neck, nods, “I’m okay.”
“You coming in Jay?” Sweating, Jay shakes his head. Lar: I wonder when Jay is coming in. Awesome helper but he never comes in. Not even when Eric is here. “Kay. Door”. Wildman does his work. Just to bug Jay, Tom hollers, “There’s a light to the left of Bill.” As expected, really annoyed Gitxsan-style, Jay: “I know.” Everybody laughs. Jay hollers back, “You’ll paaaay. I’m the door maaaan. Ha ha.” Everybody chuckling. From somewhere: “Whatever Wildman.”
The first door, as usual, is the gratitude round. Lar calls for rattles, drum, and whistles when he invokes the beautiful calling in song. In Gitananimax, Ardythe sends up her voice of thanksgiving from the women’s side. Filled with gratitude for all that is, she cries. Then Gyamk, strangely quiet, offers his gratitude from the men’s side. He struggles. He just about breaks but recovers his chiefly poise. Lar: “Sheri. Song.” Sheri together with Niki and Cindy sing the Creator song. After four starts, Lar calls for the door. Lar: “Eight more, Jay.” Just to bug Lar, Jay: “I know.”
The Grandmother-sister round is for the female side of creation. Intense askings are released into the universe for them. Tom sings the gambling song. He explains life is a gamble. The young girl’s plea from Gitwangak weighs heavy on Lar. He calls on Jordie to call the Grandmother Spirits for the young girl. Jord asks very intensely; she cries deeply for her people. To help his daughter, Gary invokes a healing song, seven starts before he finishes. Thinking about Maddi, Cher spontaneously pleads to the Creator for mercy, for a divine intervention in the tender lives of the majagalay, flowers, of the Gitxsan, to give them guidance through the ‘thin skin’ stage of the Gitxsan life cycle. Moved by her daughter’s s plea, Gary triggers a time immemorial song from Wilps Dawa Muux. He has a hard time and breaks before finishing. After finishing, silence, the Creator’s language, lingers for a spiritual moment. Lar, having a hard time: “This round has been good. This round is finished. Door.” Outside, Jay, just to bug: “What?” Everybody: “DOOR. NOW.” The canvas-door opens. Light floods in, destroying the darkness. Lar: “We’ll break for one smoke. Water.”
Eight more red-hot Grandfather stones find their place in the lodge. In the darkness, Lar pronounces the start of the Grandfather-brother round. Lar: “Tom. Bear song. Four starts. ” Drum in hand, Tom sings to appease and call the bear spirit into the lodge. Each start is accompanied with a series of eagle-wing bone whistles. Tom sings his best. Everybody joins his petition to the spirit helpers. Lar: “Perry.” Ever-ready, the youthful elder from Glen Vowell pauses to compose himself like all simgigyat who are trained properly. He deliberately amplifies his pleadings to the Creator in Gitxsanimax . Although all were Gitxsan except Bill, most of the pledgers in the lodge did not understand Perry’s intense prayer. Everybody knew he was pleading for the lives of the Gitxsan men who were getting left behind by the women. The Gitxsan cycle is out of balance. Perry appealed for help. Lar: “Am win, Wak, am win. George.” Pause. From a distance, a muffled “K’ow k’ow” unsettling the lodge. To restore order, security, and comfort, Lar: “You are completely safe in the lodge. When you’re ready, simogyat”. Finally, the simogyat pleads intensely for sweet answers and assistance for the young woman from Gitwangak lament. George weeps. Nobody has ever heard the big chief cry before. “I am humbled with the weight of the blanket. Sometimes I feel inadequate. Sometimes, I wish I never accepted the big name. The state of the Gitxsan is not good and there seem to no relief in sight. How bad will it get before we get answers. How many will die premature deaths? The people are not well, not happy. What are we to do? The young people demand answers from their leaders. They deserve it. But, I do not have answers. I don’t know what to do. Creator, please, help me. Be merciful on the people. Send help, assistance, and inspiration. Please.” Then quiet signalling the finish of the hereditary chief’s emptying-out. Lar hollers: “Jay. Seven pinches of tobacco for the people. Sheri, song.” The beautiful Grandmother song is sent to the universe. The third door concludes. Silence. The pledgers retreat to their own space, moved by the George’s .disclosure. Do all simgigyat feel that way? Wildman passes water and juice around to re-energize the pledgers. Mae and Doris, nodding their heads Gitxsan-sytle, sit quietly in their chairs by the fire acknowledging the words of the wii simogyat. Its rare that a wii simogyat admit inadequacy. After three rounds, everybody is spent.
Lar: “Okay, let’s go. Jay, all but one. Let’s finish this. There’s a bic bingo tonight.” Everyone knows Lar does not bingo. They chuckle at Lar’s poke at the Gitxsan passion to game; they would probably choose to dab rather than do sacred purification ceremony to help themselves. The soggy pledgers crawl back in, fidgeting, finding their place. Lar: “Maybe I should have brought my bingo bag into the lodge.” More snickers. Jay: “Okay. You guys quit funning my mom and auntie.” More Gitxsan chuckles. As always, he positions the board from door to the pit from which to slide the Grandfather rocks in. Quiet settles in. After they are all in, Lar: “Door.” Everybody checks for any light coming in. They know not to bug Wildman anymore. Or else, he will say, “Borrrring.” Nobody wants to give him the one up. More bear root is sprinkled. Lar fans them. “Let the medicine surround you and blend with you. Last round. Be selfish. Think only of yourself. Pray for yourself. Gar will sing, then I will send them back. Cover up.” Four splashes of sacred water turns to burning steam, forcing pledgers to retreat as far as they could. “One for the pipes.” Splash. “Gar.” Gary’s rattle picks up a parade beat. Four whistles pierce the lodge. The eagle song from the Red Shadow Singers of Sangheen, Manitoba picks up. The crescendo becomes urgent. Lar hollers: “Three more starts. Jay. Seven pinches.” Individal murmurings fill the lodge. As the eagle song fades, Lar’s “Ama ya” song lifts up so the spirits will see our thanksgiving. Seven starts. Each start is more appealing than the previous. Finally, quiet. Pledgers scramble to cover themselves with their towels. They are no match for the water medicine. Lar pours the remaining water on the Grandfather rocks. Exposed skin burns. From the darkness, some of the pledgers whimper. Without waiting, someone hollers, “DOOR. DOOR.” Lar: “It is finished. All my relations, open the door.” Finally, Jay pulls the canvas door wide open. “Holy smoke". He backs off from the door opening allowing the burning hot steam to find its place in the heavens. The light destroys the darkness. A veteran pledger hollers, “Don’t move. If you do, it’ll get you.” Moments pass. Finally, heads emerge from towel coverings, testing the air. “Ho wa’. Lar: "Everybody smoke your pipes right away. There's tobacco at the altar." Some exit right away. One by one, each pledger shows a thanksgiving to the Creator by offering a pinch of tobacco to the Fire Without End. Wildman is poised by the door to offer his strong arm. George eyes Lar, measuring him: “Good one, Lar. Thank you.” Everyone gives the sacred pipe holders sacred space to smoke their pipes. A few share their pipes; the women smoke theirs; the warriors theirs. Then they ceremoniously bundle them up, ready for the next time.
All the pledgers go to their stations to recover and change. Water, juice, or pop is offered all around. Lar asks Cher to prepare a spirit dish. She waits by the fire for further instructions. Lar motions Cher to Perry. “Ye’e Berries will give the bleassing before we feast.” Perry knew he would be summoned. On cue, Cher moves to the altar for the can of tobacco and delivers both to her Ye’e Berries. Perry puts a pinch tobacco on the spirit dish. “O wii simogyat’m lax ha gii. Ama ya. T’oyas’y nu’m ka’namihl ama saa gu’in …” As always, Perry is firm with his words of thanksgiving. Doris, Mae, Emma, Cher offer a feast to the pledgers. Niki, Emmy, Maddi, serve Jay first. Then, Larry. Then the other simgigyat. Then the sigidimhanak. Then everyone else. A quiet descends on the sacred area; the pledgers savour the feast.
George, without intruding his fellow chief, continues to measure Larry, wondering what he saw if anything. In the far distance, raven the trickster retreats up river “K’ow k’ow.” The wii simogyat smiles and nods, Gitxsan-style.
To be continued.
Epilogue. The Gitxsan are resilient. Unlike other tribes, the core of their essence survived the historic trauma, contagions, colonialism, and the Indian Residential School experience. For most tribes, the Indian band entity, pursuant to the Indian Act, a statute of Canada, usurped ancient tribal entities and traditional governance. Now, band entities are assumed to be paramount. The band entities are presumed to be normal. Rather, it is an anomaly, a misnomer for the Gitxsan. Elegant Gitxsanship derives from Gitxsan authority. The band is a creation of Indian Act, a non-aboriginal authority. There lies part of the problem for the Gitxsan youth. They confuse band membership with being Gitxsan. Their oots’in is out of alignment, the source of their confusion and dilemma. Although there are certain benefits to band membership, being Gitxsan is still the core of our essence, our psyche. Ancient teachings, ceremony, processes, colour, rhythm, medicine, and tools from the Creator have application today in modern mainstream global Canada. It is critical in a young Gitxsan person’s personal healing plan: To covet Gitxsan essence that can only be garnered to its fullest peculiar to their wilphl Gitxsan. The simgigyat and sigidimhanak know this and are compelled give expression to their daxgyat accordingly, for the majagalay. The flowers await nurturing.
Gitxsan terms explained:
“Gitanmaax” is an ancient Gitxsan village located at the confluence of Xsan and Xsan An Do’o.
“Stekyoodinhl” is the majestic mountain located at the confluence of Xsan and Xsan An Do’o.
“Xsan”, the “River of Mist”, older than the Gitxsan, courses through their territories. It is also known as the Skeena River of northwest British Columbia
“Xsan An Do’o”, the “River of Mist Over There”, empties into Xsan at foot of Stekyoodinhl. It is also known as the Bulkley River.
“Daxgyat” is the authority, strength, and confidence of the Gitxsan especially infused in the incumbent simogyat to manifest for the best good of their wilphl Gitxsan, ancient extended family.
“Wilphl Gitxsan” is the most fundamental entity in Gitxsan Society. There are 65 in Gitxsan domain. They are matrilineal.
“Mis’o” is the sockeye salmon, a Gitxsan currency. “Ya’a” is the spring salmon, another Gitxsan currency. “Sti’mon” is the pink salmon. “Malit” is the steelhead trout. “Laxw” is a trout fish. “Wilpsahon” is the smoke houses where Gitxsan families cured salmon for vital winter sustenance.
“Adaawk” is the ancient Gitxsan family history.
“Sigidimhanank” is the designated family keeper who is always a woman, typically of equal status as the simogyat. She typically has final say on critical matters of the family.
“Simogyat’mlaxha” is the Chief Who Presides from the Sky, the Creator, God.
“Gitwangak” is an ancient Gitxsan village, downriver from Stekyodinhl.
“Wii Ban” means Big Belly in keeping with typical teasing and humour, Gitxsan-style; its akin to terms of endearment, Gitxsan-style. Lixsgigyatimgyat will miss it.
“Lixsgigyatimgyat” means non-Gitxsan.
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