By Kali Skalan, Sep 11, 2010
[The following is fiction to draw attention to underlying themes that dog the Gitxsan.]
As Chas approaches the Gitanmaax Hall, he notes more than the usual vehicles in the parking lot, encouraged. Nodding, “The people do care. Look at the turnout!” He turns into the parking lot, lifts his chin at Josh who just dropped Cathy and the kids off. And wonders why, like a lot of young husbands, never attend meetings.
Chas idles his F-250 Ford truck to a stop at the entrance. George approaches, “Hey uncle!” Chas acknowledges his nephew. Without asking, George makes a bee-line to unload the big pot of feast soup and food stuff. Chas playfully elbows George, “How’s lil princess and your squeeze?” George flashes his signature smile, “Good unc! Thanks for asking!”, chuckling, “Baby is in the hall with her mom and her ye’e (grandfather) waiting for your awesome soup and big speech!”
Amused, Chas notes how cheeky the young men are, always pressing just a little bit, typical of respectful nephews. Always sizing up nephews and nieces, Chas muses, “George is coming along just fine. I’ll talk to the Noxs Tilx [a reference to the women of Wilps Xsim Tilx, one of sixty-one wilphl Gitxsan] and maybe give him a heavier name at our next feast.”
Just then, Brad, George’s older brother, strides out of the hall, “Hey Uncle!” Brad bumps George, to show dominance, typical of sibling rivalry. Brad takes the feast soup out of George’s hands; George does not let go just long enough to show resistance. George gives Brad an elbow as he releases the pot. Chas smiles to witness how close Brad and George are, “Just like Art and I, Chance and Jason, Joe and John . . . “
Chas stands back and allows Brad and George to unload. Others pull up. He nods at other simgigyat [hereditary chiefs] of the Gistkaast [Fireweed phratry] as they too play out the ritual of time honoured respectful greeting as if saying to each other, “Gyaa ii niin, Simogyat, gyaa ii niin! [I see you, Hereditary Chief, I see you!]. As Chas watches his nephew unload, he laments, “I used to have hard strong bodies like them!”
While in his reverie, he is startled when Simogyat Hlguu Ts’ak, one of his best friends, reading his mind, “Remember when we used to pack out a hind quarter out of the bush, no problem?” Chas smiles, recognizing Abel’s voice, turns and shakes his hand. “Nit!”
“Ganii nit!”
The playful teasing ensue, typical of close friends, they chit chat prior to working out meeting logistics and protocol that chiefs are always concerned about.
Giving uncle and Abel lots of room to do chief stuff, Brad and George finish unloading and stand by to help other Fireweeds. Other chiefs arrive. Brad and George take note of the protocol between chiefs. Both are impressed with how their uncle carries himself and how other chiefs have a big respect for him.
In the hall, Hlguu Ts’ak and Gyamkx take their place, designated to seat the simgigyat as they arrive. At the entrance, the hereditary chiefs wait to be recognized and called into the hall. Even though they know they would eventually be called, they are vigilant for any slights that would cause them to lose face.
“Simogyat Xsim Tilx!” hollers Hlguu Ts’ak. All eyes turn to watch as Chas enters with Adam following a few steps back carrying Chas’ bundle. Chas steps in and scans the hall. He sees Sissy standing, signalling where the wilnaatahl [lineage relatives] are seated. He strides over to the table at the back of the hall. He notes who all showed up. Adam waits for Chas to settle in before he takes the seat beside him. Kate, Adam’s mom, beams with pride that her son was selected to be Chas’ second tonight. The other nephews and nieces know they will all get their turn to sit with the chief at a public event, an honor. The wilnaatahl are gratified that they once again sit together.
For most, the same protocol unfold for each wilphl Gitxsan [the most fundamental entity in Gitxsan society]. A growing number of wilphl Gitxsan are oblivious and indifferent to protocol, status and power, and face; they seem vulgar and unorganized. As well, many individuals hover on the fringes, unsure of where to sit and what to do, the lost ones, too far up mainstream Canada and ignorant to the subtleties of the Gitxsan. Many are non-Gitxsan but are members of the local Indian bands of the Canada. Hlguu Ts’ak place them at a table for the non-Gitxsan and outsiders.
The liligit’m Gistkaast begins. Hlguu Ts’ak calls on Simogyat Gyamkx for a blessing of the gathering and the wineex [food]. Immediately after, the hall surges and crackles the din of settling in. The porters and servers spring into action. The Fireweeds reach for their bowls, cups, cutlery, and condiments stored in a tote bag on the floor. On signal from Isabelle, Freda leads Thelma, Flora, Violet, Iss Bo’ops, Brenan, Adam, Brad, and George to the kitchen. Freda points to the large pots of feast soup of Wilps Xsim Tilx. Each man picks up a pot accompanied by the women, one for each pot, ladle in hand and head for Wilps Xsim Tilx’ table. Freda moves to where Laan, Sagitskyak, Ts’im Adaasxw, Hat Yee, Kal Hedin, and T’eesaasxw sit and serve the sigidimhanak [the family keepers, usually the senior women of high rank] of Wilps Xsim Tilx. Freda checks with Isabelle, she reminds Freda to ladle Chas’ bowl first, always first, because he is the simogyat.
At the same time, on signal from Kate, Graham and Lubby, accompanied Francis and Tannis, hurry to the kitchen to retrieve a boxes of home-made buns and sandwiches. They follow the soup servers and serve.
Other wilphl Gitxsan Gistkaast play out their protocols, their character and personality in full display. Some are loud and animated. Others are quiet and reserved. A quiet lull settles over the hall as the Fireweeds nourish themselves. Some elders noisily slurp their soup to show appreciation and gratitude, drawing a chuckle. Sporadic muffled laughter rise affirming comfort and satisfaction.
After the feast soup, Sis and her girls assisted by Abe and Charlie proudly rise to retrieve and serve up their ma’ii [berries] harvested from Lax Diitax [the territory of Wilps Xsim Tilx].
* * * * * *
At the appropriate time after the feasting, Simogyat Oos rises, knuckles the table to get everybody’s attention. He waits for big Adam to hand him the microphone. “I want to thank the wilnaatahl who called this feast meeting of the Gistkaast. It’s so wonderful to see all the up-river Fireweeds under one roof, sitting together, feasting together. The soup was wonderful. I heard the chiefs smacking their lips. Chas’ was the loudest.” Everyone turns to look at Chas; he could only grin and deliberately wipe his lips with his napkin. The Fireweed chuckle, appreciating the subtle humour, typical of the Gitxsan. “The ma’ii from our lax yip [territory] and fruit cocktail from Safeway was wonderful.” The whole hall spontaneously bounces up and down with laughter. “I don’t know what it is but we seem to forget the importance of the lililgit’m pdek’m Gistkaast [the feast of the Fireweed phratry]. I guess we are too busy trying to be like the amsiiwa [white people].” Donald Doug, the Stikine MLA, adopted by Wilps Xsim Tilx, turns red as the Fireweed gawk at him. “I’m not talking about my wak Donald who sits at Xsim Tilx’ table.” The teasing continue. “Also I hear that my friend Xsim Tilx also took in a Mexican.” Poncho characteristically waves his hand away to the crowd and covers his face. Chas grins; Irene bounces with laughter. Oos waits for the hall to settle down before he continues. “Too many times, us chiefs expect an honorarium every time we attend a meeting.” A few chuckles rise but most nod in agreement. “Today, we don’t get an honorarium but we should feel good . . . because we are fulfilling an ancient tribal obligation. We have to pay attention to one another. And look after one another. We are Gistkaast of the Gitxsan. I don’t know what’s on the agenda. The hall is full. It must be pretty important.” Oos finishes. Before he sits, he playfully points at Xsim Tilx as if to say, “I got you!” Although not required, some Fireweeds applaud anyway, appreciating the good humour and reminder from Oos.
Simogyat Gak of Wilps Ts’im Gees rises. One size too big he pulls his GWG jeans up. He pauses for quiet and waits for Adam to deliver the mic. He looks up at big Adam’s 6 foot 5 frame, “Ho wa’. Kids now a days sure grow big. It must be those Big Macs eh?” Adam looks down at the simogyat and just grins, a little red in the face. In chorus, the Fireweeds chortle. “I agree with Simogyat Oos. He is right. Sometimes I’m ashamed to be Gitxsan the way we act. We never acted like this before. What happened? . . . Maybe some of those with education have an answer. I want to know. Where we are today is not good. We are losing our young people. Many have given up and have a death wish. Where are their uncles and aunties? They should be right there with their yuulhimax (advice) and andaamaahl hlaasxw (the teaching). The same with our sacred daxgyat (strength, authority and confidence). We all have daxgyat . . . especially the simgigyat and the sigidimhanak. But where is it? The chiefs have to pick it up and lead the way like the way they should. And not . . . what did my wak (brother) call it . . . defer . I don’t know what that big word means but it probably has something to do with giving up our daxgyat to the government, the band council and band office. My dad was a hard worker and never got gint (handouts), the bad of all the bad for the independent Gitxsan. He never asked for any hand outs like the band office does today . . . Who has the answers? I want to know. Ab gaa beet he`i.`` Quiet sets in. Some applauded. Some nodding their heads.
Sigidimhanak Ha’ts of Wilps Gak struggles to rise, leaning on her cane. Adam hands her the mic. ”Ì agree with my brother. If the young people are not behaving the way we`d like them to behave, we can only blame ourselves as simgigyat and sigidimhanak. I tried to bring my kids up properly so they will not be a burden or a liability on the family. But . . . I worry about my dak, my grandchildren. What do they have to look forward to when they are on their own. Will they be gwa`a (poor) and take gint. I hope not. Will they give up and want to kill themselves? I hope not. They better not because I love my kids and grandchildren. I don`t like seeing them gwa`a. I don`t like them without jobs. I don`t like seeing them have marital problems. I don`t like seeing them get cancer or rheumatoid arthritis or lupus or aneurism. I don`t want them going crazy. I don`t like them doing coke and crystal meth and smoking funny smoke and drinking too much. I don`t like them angry and violent all the time. I don`t like them not looking after their kids properly. I don`t like seeing them going to the band office and begging for a handout. It`s not right. I worry about them.`` Ha`ts pauses to wipe her eyes. ``As chiefs we have to do something. This is the worst I`ve ever seen the Gitxsan. We should be happy and comfortable with our satellite TV, high speed internet, cell phones, running water, indoor plumbing, electricity, and Safeway. But we`re not. There is a deep sadness and grief amongst us. The state of the Gitxsan is not good. Where did we go wrong? Did my ts`eets teach me the wrong things? Is it because of the Indian Act and the reserve system? Is it the Indian Residential Schools? What is the Gimlitxwit doing about this. As chiefs we have to do more with our daxgyat and tribal obligation. Ab gaa beet he`i.`` A hush blankets the hall. Everybody, eyes cast downward, sit quiet reflecting on what Ha’ts said.
Nobody moves, not even for the washroom. Just quiet. No babies cry. Toddlers don`t figgit.
Many Fireweeds have their necks stretched, scanning the tables, to see who was going to speak next. Many chiefs, arms crossed, stretched out in their chairs, wait for a signal for who is going to speak next. More quiet.
To everyone`s surprise and delight, Martha of Wilnaatahls Gak rises to speak, struggling to compose herself, nervous and scared that she actually stood up to algyax [to formally give an address, Gitxsan-style]. The chiefs are delighted to see a young Fireweed step up. Equally impressive was Lene, Dean, Brad, George, Graham, Iss Bo’ops, David, and others of the same generation spontaneously rise to stand behind Martha as if it was all scripted for this moment. ``Chiefs. It`s so impressive that the Fireweeds can come together and talk. I`m not a chief. My name is ‘Hla G’iimax Gii Ts’oog. Gyap Aks is my mom. Saa’insxw is my daughter. Ha’ts is my ts’eets . . . I’m glad I came to this feast. I usually don’t go. But Gayle wanted to go so here I am. I’m a single mom . . . I heard what the chiefs are saying. I’m concerned what the future holds for Gayle. Will it be different? Or will it be filled with sickness and disease, anger and violence? So far, that’s all we know. And, I know that if we don’t change, she will be exactly like us. I want to change that. I want her to know wellness. I want her to know peace and happiness. I want her to have a degree from university so she can get any job she wants. How do I do that? . . . I have to break the cycle of misery. I have to give expression to my daxgyat to turn things around in MY life so it is full of wellness. So Gayle will be surrounded with wellness, lasting inner peace and happiness. I agree with my ts’eetsie. Our leaders have to do more. Saa bax.” The pack behind Martha spontaneously give each others hugs. The chiefs take note of the solidarity of the young people. Scattered clapping; Gitxsan bobble heads nodded.
Hlguu Ts’ak tips his chin to Xsim Tilx, encouraging him to speak. Chas hesitates but, finally, noisily pushes his chair back signalling the other chiefs that he was rising. ``Chiefs. Chiefs. Gistkaast. I will use Englishimax. I am so happy that everybody took a time out from their busy schedules to come and sit with other Fireweeds. We are supposed to be discussing the Alternate Governance Model that the Gitxsan Treaty Society proposed to Canada and BC. But, this is more important . . . I guess what good will a bright shiny treaty be if the Gitxsan are not able to implement it, if the Gitxsan are not well. In part¸ I guess that is why we need a new relationship with the crown. Because the current relationship is not working. How do we know? Ha’ts recounted the long list of things that says the Gitxsan are not in a good place. Not in a position to implement a treaty. If you think we have problems now, just wait until after the treaty is signed, sealed, and delivered. Then, we will have big trouble if we`re in no condition to implement our nice treaty. What Oos, Ha’ts, Gak, and Martha said is the real Gitxsan agenda.” Long silence. “We DO have to do more with our ancient sacred daxgat particularly vested in the simgigyat . . . How do we do that? . . . I think there are a number of things we can do. First, we have to understand that the Creator gave us daxgyat to give it expression. Daxgyat is instrinsic to being Gitxsan. Gak is right. The Gitxsan have acquiesced to the Indian agent. I don’t know when it started but today we see that our daxgyat has fallen to the ground. I heard that the churches sponsored the 1857 Gradual Civilization Act. It spawned the arrogant assimilation policy. And the Indian Residential School system, their flag-ship program to implement it. I heard that between 1940 and 1980 an estimated 2,600 Gitxsan children as young as five years old were apprehended from the sixty-one wilphl Gitxsan. They were interned in an Indian Residential School for up to thirteen years . . . These kids were denied vital Gitxsan family environment, daxgyat, gwalx ye’inst, and Gitxsanimax. Not only that the rez schools were the hunting grounds for predators. They were malnourished. I heard reports of murder, death cover-ups, deaths from TB, babies fathered by employees were murdered, medical experiments were conducted by doctors . . . Probably the bad of all the bad coming out of the Indian Residential School experience is the miserable state of the nation upon us today. It’s not good. What do we do about? . . . I think we have to declare that the wilphl Gitxsan is the most fundamental entity in Gitxsan society, not the Indian bands. Next we have to consolidate our wilphl Gitxsan. The simgigyat have to pick up their daxgyat and give it expression in creative ways to consolidate their wilp. I think all wilphl Gitxsan should be documenting their history, do a genealogy going back far back as possible, inventory their assets, invoke a renaissance, declare Gitxsanimax as the first language and instill it in every Gitxsan, perpetuate the gwalx ye’inst and daxgyat. The kal enx is full, not empty. We inherited the world¬¬-famous Delgamuukw court case. Our aboriginal rights and title have not been extinguished and protected by the Canadian Constitution. The question is what are we going to do with our rights? The state of the nation is not good. Dysfunction and unwellness is unprecedented, probably the worse it’s been. We are dying both physically and culturally. Where’s the daxgyat to stop the dying? There is no magic pill to make everything better. It’s going to mean invoking our god-given daxgyat . . . it means a focussed, sustained, directed effort for the next twenty years to rebuild. If we don’t, the Gitxsan will be extinct like the Beotuks. Sure, remnants of the Gitxsan will survive but we’ll be totally assimilated in modern mainstream Canada. I don’t want that to happen. Do you? I appeal to all of you to think about what is your legacy that you will leave behind to your children and grandchildren. Will my grandchildren know what being Gitxsan means . . . what wellness, wealth, peace and happiness is? Or will they only know sickness, dysfunction, addictions, anger, violence, legal jeopardy, and poverty? We have a choice and we have to invoke our daxgyat. Ab gaa beet he`i.”
An absolute quiet pervades the hall, heads downcast. A baby cries pulling everybody out of their trance. Nobody moves.
Finally, Martha pushes her chair back, stands and applauds. Other young people join. Tears streaming down, she pumps her hand in the air, nodding her head. It was contagious; the young people all joined. The simgigyat and sigidimhanak reluctantly joined in. Soon the hall was in complete reawakening mode, something unseen since the late 1940s.
To be continued.
