When
Russian explorers came to our land, charting and mapping
the area for their czar, the first island group that they
came upon were the people who called themselves, Sasignan.
For unclear reasons the Russians called them Aleut.
They lived in what the Russians named the Near Islands,
because of their proximity to Russia at the western end
of the Aleutian Islands. As they moved eastward on their
journeys, the Russians continued to call the people Aleut,
even as they crossed a major dividing line of language and
culture, encountering the Sugpiaq (many of whom now
call themselves Alutiiq) Sugcestun-speaking
people of the Alaska Peninsula.
The
Russian language became the common acculturation denominator
among these diverse groups. What is my point? We "Aleuts"
are actually three different maritime peoples who had our
own identities and subdivisions prior to our contact with
the Russians: The Alutiiq speakers, the Central Yupik
speakers of Bristol Bay, and the Unangam Tunuu (language
of the Unanga{) speakers.
Why should we hang onto that foreign name, "Aleut?" To show
the pride we have in our cultural heritage and reclaim and
maintain our identities as a distinct people we should revive
the original words we used to describe ourselves.
Our
Unangam identities have become so tenuous that we,
as a people, are excavating, sifting, and meticulously labeling
the artifacts of various segments of our society with increasing
fervor. If we do not, they may disappear forever, or be
claimed by another group as their own, muddying our uniqueness
and diffusing our very identity. So there is inherent in
this work that element of reclamation that is necessarily
a part of any revitalization of an indigenous culture.
It
is not just material objects that make up our heritage.
The endangered Unangam Tunnu, the Unanga{
language, with its extant dialects is a virtually untapped
resource concerning the clues it can provide to found objects,
an understanding the profound relationship with land
and sea, rules to live by, history, and perhaps most importantly,
a unique view of the world to be shared and appreciated.
Unangam folklore is a vital aspect of this contribution
to the world bank of knowledge. It is like a gigantic puzzle
in which museum artifacts fill another missing gap.
Common
among Alaska Natives, people who were either raised away
from our home villages, or who had to leave at some point
during our lives, and had to remain away for some length
of time, displaced UnanganlUnangas have
a deepened sense of the sacred value of our origins. We
feel a loss for what we have been missing, be it Native
foods, songs, dance, stories, or seeing beauty reflected
in artfully made objects. We miss seeing people who
physically resemble ourselves and physically feeling the
common elements with which our own relate - elements such
as wind, fog, salty air, and horizontal rain. We need to
know these things about our cultural heritage and be able
to share that common knowledge with family and community.
We need to delight in hearing someone shout, "Aang, Unanga{!
" (Hello, 'Aleut'). These are what many of
those people returning from other places are searching for
when they return to the village, or to Alaska. Many of us
reside in the densely populated areas such as Anchorage
and Fairbanks. Large numbers of UnanganlUnangas with
close ties similarly reside on the west coast, particularly
in Washington and Oregon. We consider our original villages
home even if we have not been able to return there for many
years. We share a need to assert, "Where we are from is
important to us. What we like to eat is important. Our art
is important. Our dance and music are important."
The
Unangam foods are elemental to our culture. To have
our Native foods sent to us when we are away is one of the
most vitalizing, identity-rich gifts one's friends or family
can bestow. Some of our traditional subsistence foods include
aala{ (whale),
isu{ (hair seal),
aanu{ (red salmon),
and qa{ (any kind
of fish). From the beaches some favorites are chiknan
(limpets), way}in
(blue mussels), agu}aadan
(sea urchins), qasiikun (chitons or gumboots),
chuxlan (clams), and kahngadgin (seaweed).
Saaqudan (aka Puuchkiis (R)), qaniisan (aka
petrushkies (R)), fiddle head ferns, and other native vegetables
seem to make one feel healthier. My favorite is uda{,
dried fish with chadu{,
seal oil. When we eat these foods we know more strongly
who we are.
These
valuable links to the Unangam culture are validation
of our origins, touchstones to our self- and group-identities.
It is an awesome responsibility that pairs us with various
types of scholars and researchers as partners as we search
for culturally appropriate ways to document traditional
knowledge and skills. We are not just an exploitable resource,
but an equal partner in this compilation of our world knowledge
bank. The more any of us can know about who we are and where
we come from, the more sensitive and confident we can be
in our interactions among culturally diverse societies.
Qa}aasakung.
Thank you, for listening.
A
version of this essay was printed in the Arctic Studies
Center's publication of Crossroads Alaska: Native
Cultures of Alaska and Siberia (1995) and Alaska
Native Writers, Storytellers and Orators: The Expanded Edition,
Alaska Quarterly Review (1999) Ronald Spatz, Executive Editor.
