MY EXPERIENCE OF TLINGIT CULTURE
In coming to Sitka, I have heard, for the first time, of the local Tlingit culture (“Tlingit” is pronounced “Hlinkit” – with a guttural “h”). It must be noted that this Native culture is extremely complex and multi-layered, and it would take years of observation and interaction to do it justice. What I write is based on my limited observations and sensations, and is in no way an authoritative presentation of this culture as a whole. I mean no disrespect in presenting this information. I write about it because of how deeply impressive and fascinating it has been to witness the living traditions of a people that have been in this part of the world for thousands and thousands of years.
A HISTORIC WEEK-END IN SITKA
On the weekend of October first through the third, Sitka was the site for three historic events. These events included a celebration of the last great Potlatch of 1904, a grieving ceremony for members of the Kiks.adi clan who died in battle during the Russian invasion in October 1804, and a celebration of the peace that was made between the Russians and the Tlingit after that battle. I attended portions of both the grieving ceremony and the peace celebration, and there were times when I felt as if I was in a different world and then I told myself, no, I really WAS in a different world – one that was very far removed from my usual frame of reference to time and culture and custom. It was an incredible experience in many ways.
Historically, there have been efforts to eliminate the various elements of Tlingit culture. Certain ceremonies were outlawed, and people were forbidden to speak their own language; however, there appears to be a very strong Tlingit community in and around Sitka, and people are working to keep the culture alive. The University of Alaska now has a Tlingit language immersion program, and people are working to preserve their culture in other ways. It is a rich, beautiful culture, and one certainly worthy of preservation.
On Saturday I attended a healing ceremony commemorating those of the Kiks.adi Clan who were defeated in battle by the Russians on the date in 1804. The ceremony was held in the National Park, at the battle site. The battle site now contains a wide circle of green grass and moss, and in its center stands the Katlian (anglicized spelling) totem pole, which is 35 feet high. At the bottom of the pole is the totem of Katlian – the Kiks.adi leader during the time of the Russian invasion. Standing in this beautiful place, one is encircled by tall spruce and pine that reach high into the heavens, and one can hear the continual distant cry of seagulls, and the occasional “caws” of the ravens overhead.
A large tent was set up at the site and thhe chairs inside the tent, all reserved for the people of the tribe, were mostly full. I, like other non-natives, stood at the edge of the tent. While waiting for the ceremony, I was standing on the “stage left” side of the tent and occasionally an individual making his way to a seat was reminded that this side of the tent was for “Ravens” and that the “Eagles” were sitting on the other side.
I am beginning to learn something of the tribal system. As it has been explained to me, anthropologists have grouped people by language systems, and within those language systems are the tribes. The tribal system is a hierarchical system. Within each tribe are the moieties; within each moiety there are the clans, and within each clan there are the houses. From what I can understand, people of the same “house” used to actually live in the same physical house. According to Clarence L. Andrews, in his book Sitka, up to 50 people inhabited the same house; however, now those physical houses are gone.
People of the Tlingit tribe live in Sitka and on the surrounding islands. Their two moieties are “Raven” and “Eagle.” Eagles cannot marry Eagles and Ravens cannot marry Ravens. This is for the purpose of eliminating close marriages and it’s a system that has served that purpose well. It is a matrilineal system; that is, the moiety of the mother determines what the child will be. (So, if the father is an Eagle and the mother is a Raven, the child will be a Raven.) Balance is an extremely important concept in Tlingit culture (for example, in ceremonies, when an Eagle speaks, a Raven makes a response), and in order to create balance, all male children are sent to live with the mother’s brother when they reach a certain age, and when they are married, all wives go to live in the husband’s clan.
The Tlingits are known for their artwork, which, of course, includes their clothing and headdresses. I saw many variations and styles in their clothing, both in the robes, and in the items that were worn on their heads. I saw robes of one primary color – usually red or blue or green – that were usually decorated with black felt and/or white buttons, arranged in simple, stylized, representational design. (I could discern quite a few frogs, which is what someone has told me “Kiks.adi” means in English; however, someone with more knowledge [but who is still not sure] has told me that I need to confirm this. Although the frog is the totem of the clan, the clan’s name may not translate into “frog.”) Later I was told that the use of the color red originated because of surplus of army blankets around the beginning of the last century.
I started up a conversation with an older man, telling him how much I admired his costume. I immediately caught myself and he smiled and said “regalia.” He was wearing a red robe decorated with black felt-work, and he had a brown fur hat with a flower of beautiful yellow and white beadwork on the front. He said that his wife had done the beadwork, and that the hat was otter – “nothing but the best.”
One young man wore a huge wooden hat, about three feet wide that contained a gigantic carving of a frog on the top. And later on in the ceremony, a young man came to the tent in an elaborately woven vest. It looked like a little, circular, bamboo house, woven with narrow strips of light-colored wood and it was held together in sections by a cloth material of matching color. (I was told that this was a replica of Tlingit armor.) He wore this vest over a white, button-down shirt and black pants. And with this vest he wore a hat made of long brown fur. It was in a plain, conical shape, and on the front of the headpiece was a carving of the distinctive head and beak of the black raven. It was replica of the headdress of the leader Katlian.
There were a few hats made of white fur. They were round, perhaps nine to twelve inches in height, and had pelts that trailed down over the shoulders and over the small of the back (winter ermine, I believe). Some of these hats had insets of three-dimensional figures of birds on the front, and were adorned with feathers and beads.
There were many women wearing “cedar hats” – hats woven from delicate, long strips of cedar bark. They have a distinctive shape – somewhat conical, but, instead of coming to a point, there is a flat space at the apex of the cone. They have an oriental flair about them. These hats, like many other woven items (baleen baskets, for example), are very valuable (both in terms of cultural heritage, as well as monetary price).
The most interesting hats were carved out of wood. They were conical in shape, and built onto the top of the hat was an animal, the totem of the clan (e.g. “frog”), and through the frog’s back shot up a wooden pole made of rings that stood about nine to twelve inches in height. These hats have a very distinctive and curious flair. These hats are potlatch hats and there are differing opinions as to their construction. One long-held explanation, provided by anthropologists (and eventually accepted into lore by Tlingits themselves), was that each ring symbolized a potlatch that had been participated in. However, since the rings are all constructed of one piece it would not be an easy thing to add these rings separately, so there is doubt as to the veracity of this long-held notion. I am told that natives themselves sometimes adopt statements and beliefs held by anthropologists about their own culture, even though they may not be accurate.
The wooden hats, along with some of the other more elaborate hats are what are known as “at.oow” (which loosely translated means “treasures” [treasures of the clan]). These items are usually worn during ceremonial occasions, but the ownership and wearing of items of at.oow is not limited to only clan leaders.
Other valuable clothing items were large robes woven in colors of green and white and yellow. They are called "Chilkat.” They are woven from goat hair and cedar bark and probably have a monetary of between ten and $20,000 each. A weaving workshop was held in Sitka in 1985, and as a result of that workshop, there are more than a dozen people who continue to do this weaving. That workshop was an important event as it has helped to maintain the weaving traditions of the culture.
On Sunday I saw a gorgeous wall plaque, about three-four feet high. It was made of copper (representative of the Copper Shield House), and its original is in the Smithsonian. And at one part of the ceremony, one of the men of the Shark House bequeathed a wooden carving representational of the Shark House to his daughter, who was visiting from one of the lower forty eight. During one point in the day, one of the leaders commented that they are “fighting tooth and nail” to get their artwork out of the museums and into the hands of the people. He said something to the effect that all “they” want to do is to let people look at it. “But we want to embrace it, to sing about it, and to dance about it again.” He said a big obstacle is being able to prove that the objects belong to them.
The purpose of the ceremony on Saturday was to remember the men of the Kiks.adi clan who had fought on when the Russian invaded 200 years ago, and to heal the grief that the people still carried for what had happened to their “grandfathers’ people.” In addition to the Kiks.adi, there were many other clans represented at the ceremony, coming, they said, to stand in support of the Kiks.adi clan. During my chat with the gentleman with the otter hat, I asked if the stories of the Kiks.adi battle were still in the minds of people today, and he said yes, that theirs is a culture where stories were passed on orally, from generation to generation. He also said that some of them were writing a book about the subject. (On the Monday after the celebration, I met Richard Dauenhauser, one of the authors working on the book.)
There was a man who played the role equivalent to that of “master of ceremonies.” He said that the tribe respectfully requested that certain portions of the ceremony were not to be recorded or photographed, explaining “our sacred songs are still sacred to many of us.” I really appreciated this notion. It’s my feeling that some things are meant to be experienced, not objectified in a picture or videotape. It seems to me that if I step back to take a picture I’ve removed myself from the experience. Besides, the meaning of the experience cannot be captured in a photograph anyway. The meaning of the experience receives its meaning, in part, through my participation in it, and the meaning of each experience lives on in each person’s heart and memory. Besides, it seems to me that one cannot be fully engaged in the prayer, or the ritual, or the ceremony if one is photographing it.
The master of ceremonies’ welcoming words were warm and beautiful. He explained that his people still carried a heavy load of grief and that the presence of everyone here (and he emphasized the word “everyone”) meant a lot. He welcomed us all – every tribe and every nationality – and he said that each person’s presence was a medicine to them. He talked of the battle that took place on the site 200 years ago and said that the stories of their grandfather’s people who fought in the battle were still being told. He explained that the purpose of today’s ceremony was for the purpose of healing their grief and lightening their load. He said, “just as those brave Kiks.adi stood for us, so, too, do we stand for them – just as those brave Kiks.adi stood for us, so, too, do we stand for them!”
I had the notion, what is the relationship between something that happened 200 years ago and now? But through my observations over the weekend I came to the conclusion that there is such a strong feeling of connection in this culture. People have a real and tangible connection to their culture, to each other, to their ancestors, and to the natural world. And I felt that this must give one such a strong feeling of belonging – to one’s family, one’s clan, one’s tribe. At one point in the ceremony on Sunday, a man said that when we speak to one another, we must remember that we are also speaking to our aunties, our uncles and our mothers (meaning that we must be respectful of what we say).
The Tlingits have very strong connection to their ancestors, and they believe that their ancestors continue on with them in the present moment. This was beautifully described by a young woman who is a student in a Tlingit language immersion program. She said, “when you find out who you are in the Tlingit way, and you learn the language of your ancestors, it is like you are waking them up, and you can feel them.” And this ancestral connection was demonstrated quite impressively at the ceremony on Sunday by one of the men making introductions of people in the crowd. As he announced each person, he recited their lineage, going back for generations (and he did it all from memory!). Someone told me that he knows the lineage of many people all the way back to when people had just a first name.
The ceremony on Saturday began with a group of leaders in regalia standing behind the master of ceremonies. Each man represented a house, and as each name was called, each man responded with a brief shout, calling out the same word in his reply. Each man said something like “the door of the [Copper Shield] House is open - we welcome you”.
There was an opening song, and it was requested that the video equipment be turned off during the song. Two instruments provided the accompanying music for the day: a hand-held drum that was played by a young woman, and a simple rattle held by a man. (Someone told me that they were husband and wife). This song, like many songs that day, was a song of mourning, and during the song, many individuals held one arm up in the air, tilting it slightly forward as they sang.
When each clan was announced, the people of that clan stepped forward and a small speech was given. Sometimes the speaker chose to sing instead. Everyone spoke from the heart. I noticed that all weekend long. Presentations were usually fairly brief and simple, but very heartfelt. In his words of welcome, one speaker said he was recalling the words of his ancestors when he said “the stars in the sky are lighting their fires to provide a warm welcome for you.”
One clan leader spoke with great passion about the Kiks.adi, stating that they were fighting to protect their people. “They were fighting to protect their people,” he emphasized. “They were fighting for their land and their way of life.” He spoke of many other great Native American leaders who had stood their ground. “These people fought for their way of life. Now our home is gone too. They’ve taken it away and now they call it the ‘Tongass National Forest’.” Later, one of my friends asked me, didn’t I think that that man’s words were out of the spirit of the event. I said that I thought the speech fit within the context of the day. Even though he was the only one to speak in this manner, his speech was definitely not rabble-rousing. I took it that he was simply stating the truth as he saw it, and he was declaring the reason for the cause of their grief – the loss of their land and way of life.
The songs of the day were beautiful. I have attended many Native American ceremonies in Illinois, and I very much enjoyed those ceremonies; however, I really appreciated some of the differences that I experienced in the music of the Tlingit culture. There seems to be more variation in their sound. There were songs with more modulation and melody – sometimes it was very subtle – and there was also some harmony. In many songs, there would be a leader voice, or voices, that would call out the words of the next phrase over the voices of those who were singing, and then the singers would catch that line and sing it out. It was very haunting and beautiful.
In contrast to the grieving ceremony on Saturday, Sunday’s ceremony was a celebration of the peace that had been made between the Kiks.adi and the Russians after the battle of 1804. Irina _____, a direct descendant of Baranof (leader of the Russians) had come from Russia to participate in the ceremonies. One of the Tlingit announcers stated that the purpose of the day was not to make peace, because that had already occurred, rather, that today’s purpose was to celebrate the making of that peace. (But later I heard that there were those who felt that peace had not been made, and that Sunday’s ceremonies were meant to make that peace.) We were asked to refrain from taking photographs during the first part of the ceremony; however, we were told that after this, the “serious” part of the day, we could photograph everything else that took place.
When I had entered the auditorium, I had been asked if I was an Eagle, and I told them no, that I was a non-native. There was some discussion as to where I should sit, and then I was told that I should sit on the side of the auditorium where the Eagles were sitting. The Eagles were the guests of the Ravens on this day, and I took a seat in the back row. Chairs in the auditorium were set up so that people were all facing toward the center. In front of a long stage, there was a long table, at which the distinguished guests sat, and this table faced a group of the Kiks.adi leaders and the Russians and their interpreter. Everyone else (probably a couple hundred of people) sat on one of the other two sides, facing each other and in between the two groups of leaders.
The ceremonies began with what may be called an “investiture.” A youngish-looking man, Tom (perhaps in his 30’s, maybe older), had been chosen to wear the regalia of an honored member of the clan that had died 20 years ago. (I recognized the long red vest, because it had been held up during one of the grieving songs the day before.) Words were spoken about the young man who was about to be honored. I really liked his face. He wore eyeglasses with a simple wire rim, and his countenance was one of such sweetness and humility and good humor. It was said that he “deserved credit” for his role in helping to organize the day’s events. After they had placed the vest on him, it was announced that they were next going to place the peace hat on his head. This hat was a beautiful hat in the shape of a potlatch hat, (a golden horn, curving outwards, with a tall tube of potlatch rings rising from its center), and it was made of a beautiful golden metal (copper, I presume). The potlatch rings were, perhaps, 18 inches in height. The hat had been commissioned by Baranof shortly after the battle; however, it had not been made until the 1830’s.
It was difficult to catch everything that was being said, but I believe that they said that the red vest used to be Rudolph Walton’s shirt, and that he had been the last in the line of men designated with a title related to warrior. They said that, by putting this shirt on Tom, that the title now had a new designation – one that is related to peace.
The next thing to happen was a dance to commemorate the peace. Two older men entered, dressed in Chilkat robes, and each was attended by two men. The men in the Chilkat robes wore two long maroon feathery objects that projected from the tops of their headdresses. The music began, and the men in Chilkat robes, each framed by their attendants, began to turn in a circle. The movement was slow and solemn and continued for a minute or two. Another movement included the sprinkling of white down feathers (from an eagle perhaps), which was a symbol of peace. The music and movement continued for a few minutes, and the sight of the men in their Chilkat robes, unique headdresses, and Tom, in his ceremonial vest and golden peace hat, was something to behold.
Next it was time to honor the Veterans of the United States armed forces. It was said that they are the “new warriors now.” Everyone who had served was asked to come forward, and there were many people of the World War II generation, including two women (each couldn’t have been more than a little over five feet tall). One of the women was Isabella Brady, the matriarch of the Kiks.adi Clan. I couldn’t imagine what their experiences must have been. World War II was traumatic for everyone who served, but just imagine! These people had lived their lives in isolation on these remote islands, and then they were plucked from their villages and trained in U.S. training camps and they fought all around the globe. It is said that they served their country with great distinction.
Next it was the Russians’ turn to speak. The woman, Irina_____, (a direct descendant of Baranof) came from Moscow to participate in various ceremonies with the Tlingit. She spoke in Russian, and a youngish man – a native Russian (now a resident of Sitka) – spoke as her interpreter. The woman spoke for quite a long time, telling something of Russian tradition and history, and she presented many, many beautiful gifts to designated leaders and to individuals whom she had met. She certainly did her homework on the protocol, and she spoke with much heart-felt feeling. Even though one couldn’t understand her words directly, her feeling was evident.
After this, there was an elaborate ceremonial distribution of “fire bowls.” Fire bowls are large bowls, filled with gifts. The announcement of each bowl was made in Tlingit, with, what sounded like a recital of names. Once all of the fire bowls had been announced and gathered together, the distribution began. Bowls were distributed according to a pre-set protocol, and elders and distinguished guests received theirs first. This distribution went on for quite some time.
Food was served all throughout the day. While we were waiting, young Yupik girls, students from the nearby Mount Edgecumbe High School, all dressed in native costume, served coffee and tea to everyone. Then, as Baranof’s descendant spoke, bowls of soup and large crackers and butter were handed out throughout the crowd. Later on, during one of the informal gift-giving rituals, we were each given a dish of delicious salmonberries and strawberries (a summer crop that had been frozen). There was also a distribution of fry bread. Later on in the evening, we were served plate-fulls of delicious salmon, white rice, and herring eggs. The portions of herring eggs (like everything else) were quite generous. They are tiny, white and crunchy. They have a distinctive taste, and go very well with the soy sauce that was provided. I ate everything I was served, although my portion of herring eggs was a little bit more than I really wanted. At around 9 pm, they wheeled out a beautiful, big cake.
Gift giving went on for much of the day as well. After the formalized fire bowl ceremony, there were periods of time when gifts from individuals were distributed. Towards the end of one of these sessions the announcer asked if anybody in the crowd had not received a gift of any kind. My friend and I put our hands up, and in the gift givings that took place after that, we accumulated quite a lot of stuff. We each got a small fire bowl filled with candies. We each got a nice tote bag with a design commemorating the event. We got jars of smoked salmon, bags of seaweed (which we were told was very good in stir-fry), homemade strawberry jam, microwave popcorn, Ramen noodles, and 14 cans of soda. We each received a couple of small gifts with tags designating who the gift-giver was. I got a little jiffy-lock bag with a $2 bill and a coin in it, with a tag indicating that the gift was from Ellen Hope Hays. WeI walked over to thank her for her gifts. She is a short, slim, white-haired woman who radiates beauty. I was so drawn to her, and loved holding her hand as she talked to us with such warmth and kindness.
We were treated to dance performances. The Yupik students performed two or three really charming dances. (The Yupiks are one of the tribes that we would call “Eskimo.”) My favorite was a dance depicting a seal hunt. In addition, there were dancers that had come all the way from Yakutat. These dancers were also Tlingit; however, their clothing is quite different in style. The third group of dancers was from Sitka and environs. All of the dancing was quite spirited and wonderful, and I got quite a lot of nice shots with my camera.
At another point in the day, crates of fruit were brought out, placed in huge bowls and taken to designated individuals in the crowd. Those individuals, along with those who sat near them, then grabbed the fruit as quickly as possible. When the container was empty, everybody put their hands on the bowl, lifted it up in the air, and gave out a cry. When a woman sitting in front of us was brought a bowl of fruit she said “come on” – meaning that we were to help her. I added several plums to my gift bag as a result of two or three such distributions to our corner of the room. The day’s events clearly demonstrated the generosity for which these people are known.
The day’s events included many other things of interest. Before the serving of the main meal, a native woman sang an Orthodox prayer in Tlingit. I recognized the lines of music as Gregorian chant. It was quite a long and beautiful prayer. At another point in the day a Presbyterian minister was asked to come forward and lead the group in prayer, remembering someone who was in a critical medical condition. In between various events and presentations I would chat with the people sitting around me, learning many more interesting details about the culture. At one point I said to my friend that we were no longer in the world of the sound bite and the short attention span. I felt no urge to leave; I was enjoying everything that was happening, knowing that this may well have been my only opportunity for such an experience. Finally, at 9:30, I decided to make my departure, but my friend said she was staying for the whole thing. One item of particular interest to her was seeing the “adoption” of her friend Jay into the clan. Earlier that morning Jay had been told that she was being adopted, which would make her an honorary member of the clan. She was told that she was going to be given the name of one of the clan’s deceased, honored relatives. I briefly saw the acceptance speech that Jay had written in Tlingit, but as much as I would have liked to have seen this portion of the ceremony, it did not take place during the time that I was there. (I saw my friend the next day and was told that the ceremony, with all of its various components, went on until 2 am.)
There are some things in the Tlingit culture that have been lost, never to be regained. For example, I was told that they used to have a completely separate language for the purpose of diplomacy; however, no one knows it now. And one older woman spoke about how she and others had been forbidden to use their language when they were young – that they could only speak English. She said how wonderful it is that the young people want to learn the language of their ancestors. But I would imagine that there is only a small percentage of young people who are learning Tlingit, and I wonder how can these old ways and old customs survive in the world in which we are living? Their values – of storytelling, ritual, environmental sustainability, generosity, and gift giving – are so at odds with the values in the dominant culture. How do people bring along that which is the best in their culture, while fitting in with people in the “everyday” world?
These problems are prevalent at the colleges and universities. There is not a high graduation rate among native students. College is a huge adjustment for everyone; however, growing up in small, rural, isolated villages, the native kids who come to college have, in addition to the shock of academic rigors, a cultural shock as well. June, (a friend of mine who is Yupik), told me that the Inupiaq tribe sends one adult along with each student as a mentor when the student goes to college. These kids have a better success rate; however, that is a considerable investment. How many people can afford to do that?
This weekend’s events were historic and not likely to be experienced for many years to come, if ever. This land, this place, is a place of such incredible beauty, and as I am impressed with the beauty of the place, so too am I impressed with the native people that I have met. They possess true humility and gentle humor, and yet they command great respect.
There are those who speculate that the native peoples have been here for eleven thousand years. Eleven thousand years! We, the white people, only got here yesterday. If we would be open to what these people could teach us – the ways in which they related to and cared for the land – their healthy understanding of man’s place in the cosmos and how to coexist with all other life forms – their great generosity of spirit – if we could take the best of their culture and add it to the best that is in our culture, what a beautiful world we could make!
In coming to Sitka, I have heard, for the first time, of the local Tlingit culture (“Tlingit” is pronounced “Hlinkit” – with a guttural “h”). It must be noted that this Native culture is extremely complex and multi-layered, and it would take years of observation and interaction to do it justice. What I write is based on my limited observations and sensations, and is in no way an authoritative presentation of this culture as a whole. I mean no disrespect in presenting this information. I write about it because of how deeply impressive and fascinating it has been to witness the living traditions of a people that have been in this part of the world for thousands and thousands of years.
A HISTORIC WEEK-END IN SITKA
On the weekend of October first through the third, Sitka was the site for three historic events. These events included a celebration of the last great Potlatch of 1904, a grieving ceremony for members of the Kiks.adi clan who died in battle during the Russian invasion in October 1804, and a celebration of the peace that was made between the Russians and the Tlingit after that battle. I attended portions of both the grieving ceremony and the peace celebration, and there were times when I felt as if I was in a different world and then I told myself, no, I really WAS in a different world – one that was very far removed from my usual frame of reference to time and culture and custom. It was an incredible experience in many ways.
Historically, there have been efforts to eliminate the various elements of Tlingit culture. Certain ceremonies were outlawed, and people were forbidden to speak their own language; however, there appears to be a very strong Tlingit community in and around Sitka, and people are working to keep the culture alive. The University of Alaska now has a Tlingit language immersion program, and people are working to preserve their culture in other ways. It is a rich, beautiful culture, and one certainly worthy of preservation.
On Saturday I attended a healing ceremony commemorating those of the Kiks.adi Clan who were defeated in battle by the Russians on the date in 1804. The ceremony was held in the National Park, at the battle site. The battle site now contains a wide circle of green grass and moss, and in its center stands the Katlian (anglicized spelling) totem pole, which is 35 feet high. At the bottom of the pole is the totem of Katlian – the Kiks.adi leader during the time of the Russian invasion. Standing in this beautiful place, one is encircled by tall spruce and pine that reach high into the heavens, and one can hear the continual distant cry of seagulls, and the occasional “caws” of the ravens overhead.
A large tent was set up at the site and thhe chairs inside the tent, all reserved for the people of the tribe, were mostly full. I, like other non-natives, stood at the edge of the tent. While waiting for the ceremony, I was standing on the “stage left” side of the tent and occasionally an individual making his way to a seat was reminded that this side of the tent was for “Ravens” and that the “Eagles” were sitting on the other side.
I am beginning to learn something of the tribal system. As it has been explained to me, anthropologists have grouped people by language systems, and within those language systems are the tribes. The tribal system is a hierarchical system. Within each tribe are the moieties; within each moiety there are the clans, and within each clan there are the houses. From what I can understand, people of the same “house” used to actually live in the same physical house. According to Clarence L. Andrews, in his book Sitka, up to 50 people inhabited the same house; however, now those physical houses are gone.
People of the Tlingit tribe live in Sitka and on the surrounding islands. Their two moieties are “Raven” and “Eagle.” Eagles cannot marry Eagles and Ravens cannot marry Ravens. This is for the purpose of eliminating close marriages and it’s a system that has served that purpose well. It is a matrilineal system; that is, the moiety of the mother determines what the child will be. (So, if the father is an Eagle and the mother is a Raven, the child will be a Raven.) Balance is an extremely important concept in Tlingit culture (for example, in ceremonies, when an Eagle speaks, a Raven makes a response), and in order to create balance, all male children are sent to live with the mother’s brother when they reach a certain age, and when they are married, all wives go to live in the husband’s clan.
The Tlingits are known for their artwork, which, of course, includes their clothing and headdresses. I saw many variations and styles in their clothing, both in the robes, and in the items that were worn on their heads. I saw robes of one primary color – usually red or blue or green – that were usually decorated with black felt and/or white buttons, arranged in simple, stylized, representational design. (I could discern quite a few frogs, which is what someone has told me “Kiks.adi” means in English; however, someone with more knowledge [but who is still not sure] has told me that I need to confirm this. Although the frog is the totem of the clan, the clan’s name may not translate into “frog.”) Later I was told that the use of the color red originated because of surplus of army blankets around the beginning of the last century.
I started up a conversation with an older man, telling him how much I admired his costume. I immediately caught myself and he smiled and said “regalia.” He was wearing a red robe decorated with black felt-work, and he had a brown fur hat with a flower of beautiful yellow and white beadwork on the front. He said that his wife had done the beadwork, and that the hat was otter – “nothing but the best.”
One young man wore a huge wooden hat, about three feet wide that contained a gigantic carving of a frog on the top. And later on in the ceremony, a young man came to the tent in an elaborately woven vest. It looked like a little, circular, bamboo house, woven with narrow strips of light-colored wood and it was held together in sections by a cloth material of matching color. (I was told that this was a replica of Tlingit armor.) He wore this vest over a white, button-down shirt and black pants. And with this vest he wore a hat made of long brown fur. It was in a plain, conical shape, and on the front of the headpiece was a carving of the distinctive head and beak of the black raven. It was replica of the headdress of the leader Katlian.
There were a few hats made of white fur. They were round, perhaps nine to twelve inches in height, and had pelts that trailed down over the shoulders and over the small of the back (winter ermine, I believe). Some of these hats had insets of three-dimensional figures of birds on the front, and were adorned with feathers and beads.
There were many women wearing “cedar hats” – hats woven from delicate, long strips of cedar bark. They have a distinctive shape – somewhat conical, but, instead of coming to a point, there is a flat space at the apex of the cone. They have an oriental flair about them. These hats, like many other woven items (baleen baskets, for example), are very valuable (both in terms of cultural heritage, as well as monetary price).
The most interesting hats were carved out of wood. They were conical in shape, and built onto the top of the hat was an animal, the totem of the clan (e.g. “frog”), and through the frog’s back shot up a wooden pole made of rings that stood about nine to twelve inches in height. These hats have a very distinctive and curious flair. These hats are potlatch hats and there are differing opinions as to their construction. One long-held explanation, provided by anthropologists (and eventually accepted into lore by Tlingits themselves), was that each ring symbolized a potlatch that had been participated in. However, since the rings are all constructed of one piece it would not be an easy thing to add these rings separately, so there is doubt as to the veracity of this long-held notion. I am told that natives themselves sometimes adopt statements and beliefs held by anthropologists about their own culture, even though they may not be accurate.
The wooden hats, along with some of the other more elaborate hats are what are known as “at.oow” (which loosely translated means “treasures” [treasures of the clan]). These items are usually worn during ceremonial occasions, but the ownership and wearing of items of at.oow is not limited to only clan leaders.
Other valuable clothing items were large robes woven in colors of green and white and yellow. They are called "Chilkat.” They are woven from goat hair and cedar bark and probably have a monetary of between ten and $20,000 each. A weaving workshop was held in Sitka in 1985, and as a result of that workshop, there are more than a dozen people who continue to do this weaving. That workshop was an important event as it has helped to maintain the weaving traditions of the culture.
On Sunday I saw a gorgeous wall plaque, about three-four feet high. It was made of copper (representative of the Copper Shield House), and its original is in the Smithsonian. And at one part of the ceremony, one of the men of the Shark House bequeathed a wooden carving representational of the Shark House to his daughter, who was visiting from one of the lower forty eight. During one point in the day, one of the leaders commented that they are “fighting tooth and nail” to get their artwork out of the museums and into the hands of the people. He said something to the effect that all “they” want to do is to let people look at it. “But we want to embrace it, to sing about it, and to dance about it again.” He said a big obstacle is being able to prove that the objects belong to them.
The purpose of the ceremony on Saturday was to remember the men of the Kiks.adi clan who had fought on when the Russian invaded 200 years ago, and to heal the grief that the people still carried for what had happened to their “grandfathers’ people.” In addition to the Kiks.adi, there were many other clans represented at the ceremony, coming, they said, to stand in support of the Kiks.adi clan. During my chat with the gentleman with the otter hat, I asked if the stories of the Kiks.adi battle were still in the minds of people today, and he said yes, that theirs is a culture where stories were passed on orally, from generation to generation. He also said that some of them were writing a book about the subject. (On the Monday after the celebration, I met Richard Dauenhauser, one of the authors working on the book.)
There was a man who played the role equivalent to that of “master of ceremonies.” He said that the tribe respectfully requested that certain portions of the ceremony were not to be recorded or photographed, explaining “our sacred songs are still sacred to many of us.” I really appreciated this notion. It’s my feeling that some things are meant to be experienced, not objectified in a picture or videotape. It seems to me that if I step back to take a picture I’ve removed myself from the experience. Besides, the meaning of the experience cannot be captured in a photograph anyway. The meaning of the experience receives its meaning, in part, through my participation in it, and the meaning of each experience lives on in each person’s heart and memory. Besides, it seems to me that one cannot be fully engaged in the prayer, or the ritual, or the ceremony if one is photographing it.
The master of ceremonies’ welcoming words were warm and beautiful. He explained that his people still carried a heavy load of grief and that the presence of everyone here (and he emphasized the word “everyone”) meant a lot. He welcomed us all – every tribe and every nationality – and he said that each person’s presence was a medicine to them. He talked of the battle that took place on the site 200 years ago and said that the stories of their grandfather’s people who fought in the battle were still being told. He explained that the purpose of today’s ceremony was for the purpose of healing their grief and lightening their load. He said, “just as those brave Kiks.adi stood for us, so, too, do we stand for them – just as those brave Kiks.adi stood for us, so, too, do we stand for them!”
I had the notion, what is the relationship between something that happened 200 years ago and now? But through my observations over the weekend I came to the conclusion that there is such a strong feeling of connection in this culture. People have a real and tangible connection to their culture, to each other, to their ancestors, and to the natural world. And I felt that this must give one such a strong feeling of belonging – to one’s family, one’s clan, one’s tribe. At one point in the ceremony on Sunday, a man said that when we speak to one another, we must remember that we are also speaking to our aunties, our uncles and our mothers (meaning that we must be respectful of what we say).
The Tlingits have very strong connection to their ancestors, and they believe that their ancestors continue on with them in the present moment. This was beautifully described by a young woman who is a student in a Tlingit language immersion program. She said, “when you find out who you are in the Tlingit way, and you learn the language of your ancestors, it is like you are waking them up, and you can feel them.” And this ancestral connection was demonstrated quite impressively at the ceremony on Sunday by one of the men making introductions of people in the crowd. As he announced each person, he recited their lineage, going back for generations (and he did it all from memory!). Someone told me that he knows the lineage of many people all the way back to when people had just a first name.
The ceremony on Saturday began with a group of leaders in regalia standing behind the master of ceremonies. Each man represented a house, and as each name was called, each man responded with a brief shout, calling out the same word in his reply. Each man said something like “the door of the [Copper Shield] House is open - we welcome you”.
There was an opening song, and it was requested that the video equipment be turned off during the song. Two instruments provided the accompanying music for the day: a hand-held drum that was played by a young woman, and a simple rattle held by a man. (Someone told me that they were husband and wife). This song, like many songs that day, was a song of mourning, and during the song, many individuals held one arm up in the air, tilting it slightly forward as they sang.
When each clan was announced, the people of that clan stepped forward and a small speech was given. Sometimes the speaker chose to sing instead. Everyone spoke from the heart. I noticed that all weekend long. Presentations were usually fairly brief and simple, but very heartfelt. In his words of welcome, one speaker said he was recalling the words of his ancestors when he said “the stars in the sky are lighting their fires to provide a warm welcome for you.”
One clan leader spoke with great passion about the Kiks.adi, stating that they were fighting to protect their people. “They were fighting to protect their people,” he emphasized. “They were fighting for their land and their way of life.” He spoke of many other great Native American leaders who had stood their ground. “These people fought for their way of life. Now our home is gone too. They’ve taken it away and now they call it the ‘Tongass National Forest’.” Later, one of my friends asked me, didn’t I think that that man’s words were out of the spirit of the event. I said that I thought the speech fit within the context of the day. Even though he was the only one to speak in this manner, his speech was definitely not rabble-rousing. I took it that he was simply stating the truth as he saw it, and he was declaring the reason for the cause of their grief – the loss of their land and way of life.
The songs of the day were beautiful. I have attended many Native American ceremonies in Illinois, and I very much enjoyed those ceremonies; however, I really appreciated some of the differences that I experienced in the music of the Tlingit culture. There seems to be more variation in their sound. There were songs with more modulation and melody – sometimes it was very subtle – and there was also some harmony. In many songs, there would be a leader voice, or voices, that would call out the words of the next phrase over the voices of those who were singing, and then the singers would catch that line and sing it out. It was very haunting and beautiful.
In contrast to the grieving ceremony on Saturday, Sunday’s ceremony was a celebration of the peace that had been made between the Kiks.adi and the Russians after the battle of 1804. Irina _____, a direct descendant of Baranof (leader of the Russians) had come from Russia to participate in the ceremonies. One of the Tlingit announcers stated that the purpose of the day was not to make peace, because that had already occurred, rather, that today’s purpose was to celebrate the making of that peace. (But later I heard that there were those who felt that peace had not been made, and that Sunday’s ceremonies were meant to make that peace.) We were asked to refrain from taking photographs during the first part of the ceremony; however, we were told that after this, the “serious” part of the day, we could photograph everything else that took place.
When I had entered the auditorium, I had been asked if I was an Eagle, and I told them no, that I was a non-native. There was some discussion as to where I should sit, and then I was told that I should sit on the side of the auditorium where the Eagles were sitting. The Eagles were the guests of the Ravens on this day, and I took a seat in the back row. Chairs in the auditorium were set up so that people were all facing toward the center. In front of a long stage, there was a long table, at which the distinguished guests sat, and this table faced a group of the Kiks.adi leaders and the Russians and their interpreter. Everyone else (probably a couple hundred of people) sat on one of the other two sides, facing each other and in between the two groups of leaders.
The ceremonies began with what may be called an “investiture.” A youngish-looking man, Tom (perhaps in his 30’s, maybe older), had been chosen to wear the regalia of an honored member of the clan that had died 20 years ago. (I recognized the long red vest, because it had been held up during one of the grieving songs the day before.) Words were spoken about the young man who was about to be honored. I really liked his face. He wore eyeglasses with a simple wire rim, and his countenance was one of such sweetness and humility and good humor. It was said that he “deserved credit” for his role in helping to organize the day’s events. After they had placed the vest on him, it was announced that they were next going to place the peace hat on his head. This hat was a beautiful hat in the shape of a potlatch hat, (a golden horn, curving outwards, with a tall tube of potlatch rings rising from its center), and it was made of a beautiful golden metal (copper, I presume). The potlatch rings were, perhaps, 18 inches in height. The hat had been commissioned by Baranof shortly after the battle; however, it had not been made until the 1830’s.
It was difficult to catch everything that was being said, but I believe that they said that the red vest used to be Rudolph Walton’s shirt, and that he had been the last in the line of men designated with a title related to warrior. They said that, by putting this shirt on Tom, that the title now had a new designation – one that is related to peace.
The next thing to happen was a dance to commemorate the peace. Two older men entered, dressed in Chilkat robes, and each was attended by two men. The men in the Chilkat robes wore two long maroon feathery objects that projected from the tops of their headdresses. The music began, and the men in Chilkat robes, each framed by their attendants, began to turn in a circle. The movement was slow and solemn and continued for a minute or two. Another movement included the sprinkling of white down feathers (from an eagle perhaps), which was a symbol of peace. The music and movement continued for a few minutes, and the sight of the men in their Chilkat robes, unique headdresses, and Tom, in his ceremonial vest and golden peace hat, was something to behold.
Next it was time to honor the Veterans of the United States armed forces. It was said that they are the “new warriors now.” Everyone who had served was asked to come forward, and there were many people of the World War II generation, including two women (each couldn’t have been more than a little over five feet tall). One of the women was Isabella Brady, the matriarch of the Kiks.adi Clan. I couldn’t imagine what their experiences must have been. World War II was traumatic for everyone who served, but just imagine! These people had lived their lives in isolation on these remote islands, and then they were plucked from their villages and trained in U.S. training camps and they fought all around the globe. It is said that they served their country with great distinction.
Next it was the Russians’ turn to speak. The woman, Irina_____, (a direct descendant of Baranof) came from Moscow to participate in various ceremonies with the Tlingit. She spoke in Russian, and a youngish man – a native Russian (now a resident of Sitka) – spoke as her interpreter. The woman spoke for quite a long time, telling something of Russian tradition and history, and she presented many, many beautiful gifts to designated leaders and to individuals whom she had met. She certainly did her homework on the protocol, and she spoke with much heart-felt feeling. Even though one couldn’t understand her words directly, her feeling was evident.
After this, there was an elaborate ceremonial distribution of “fire bowls.” Fire bowls are large bowls, filled with gifts. The announcement of each bowl was made in Tlingit, with, what sounded like a recital of names. Once all of the fire bowls had been announced and gathered together, the distribution began. Bowls were distributed according to a pre-set protocol, and elders and distinguished guests received theirs first. This distribution went on for quite some time.
Food was served all throughout the day. While we were waiting, young Yupik girls, students from the nearby Mount Edgecumbe High School, all dressed in native costume, served coffee and tea to everyone. Then, as Baranof’s descendant spoke, bowls of soup and large crackers and butter were handed out throughout the crowd. Later on, during one of the informal gift-giving rituals, we were each given a dish of delicious salmonberries and strawberries (a summer crop that had been frozen). There was also a distribution of fry bread. Later on in the evening, we were served plate-fulls of delicious salmon, white rice, and herring eggs. The portions of herring eggs (like everything else) were quite generous. They are tiny, white and crunchy. They have a distinctive taste, and go very well with the soy sauce that was provided. I ate everything I was served, although my portion of herring eggs was a little bit more than I really wanted. At around 9 pm, they wheeled out a beautiful, big cake.
Gift giving went on for much of the day as well. After the formalized fire bowl ceremony, there were periods of time when gifts from individuals were distributed. Towards the end of one of these sessions the announcer asked if anybody in the crowd had not received a gift of any kind. My friend and I put our hands up, and in the gift givings that took place after that, we accumulated quite a lot of stuff. We each got a small fire bowl filled with candies. We each got a nice tote bag with a design commemorating the event. We got jars of smoked salmon, bags of seaweed (which we were told was very good in stir-fry), homemade strawberry jam, microwave popcorn, Ramen noodles, and 14 cans of soda. We each received a couple of small gifts with tags designating who the gift-giver was. I got a little jiffy-lock bag with a $2 bill and a coin in it, with a tag indicating that the gift was from Ellen Hope Hays. WeI walked over to thank her for her gifts. She is a short, slim, white-haired woman who radiates beauty. I was so drawn to her, and loved holding her hand as she talked to us with such warmth and kindness.
We were treated to dance performances. The Yupik students performed two or three really charming dances. (The Yupiks are one of the tribes that we would call “Eskimo.”) My favorite was a dance depicting a seal hunt. In addition, there were dancers that had come all the way from Yakutat. These dancers were also Tlingit; however, their clothing is quite different in style. The third group of dancers was from Sitka and environs. All of the dancing was quite spirited and wonderful, and I got quite a lot of nice shots with my camera.
At another point in the day, crates of fruit were brought out, placed in huge bowls and taken to designated individuals in the crowd. Those individuals, along with those who sat near them, then grabbed the fruit as quickly as possible. When the container was empty, everybody put their hands on the bowl, lifted it up in the air, and gave out a cry. When a woman sitting in front of us was brought a bowl of fruit she said “come on” – meaning that we were to help her. I added several plums to my gift bag as a result of two or three such distributions to our corner of the room. The day’s events clearly demonstrated the generosity for which these people are known.
The day’s events included many other things of interest. Before the serving of the main meal, a native woman sang an Orthodox prayer in Tlingit. I recognized the lines of music as Gregorian chant. It was quite a long and beautiful prayer. At another point in the day a Presbyterian minister was asked to come forward and lead the group in prayer, remembering someone who was in a critical medical condition. In between various events and presentations I would chat with the people sitting around me, learning many more interesting details about the culture. At one point I said to my friend that we were no longer in the world of the sound bite and the short attention span. I felt no urge to leave; I was enjoying everything that was happening, knowing that this may well have been my only opportunity for such an experience. Finally, at 9:30, I decided to make my departure, but my friend said she was staying for the whole thing. One item of particular interest to her was seeing the “adoption” of her friend Jay into the clan. Earlier that morning Jay had been told that she was being adopted, which would make her an honorary member of the clan. She was told that she was going to be given the name of one of the clan’s deceased, honored relatives. I briefly saw the acceptance speech that Jay had written in Tlingit, but as much as I would have liked to have seen this portion of the ceremony, it did not take place during the time that I was there. (I saw my friend the next day and was told that the ceremony, with all of its various components, went on until 2 am.)
There are some things in the Tlingit culture that have been lost, never to be regained. For example, I was told that they used to have a completely separate language for the purpose of diplomacy; however, no one knows it now. And one older woman spoke about how she and others had been forbidden to use their language when they were young – that they could only speak English. She said how wonderful it is that the young people want to learn the language of their ancestors. But I would imagine that there is only a small percentage of young people who are learning Tlingit, and I wonder how can these old ways and old customs survive in the world in which we are living? Their values – of storytelling, ritual, environmental sustainability, generosity, and gift giving – are so at odds with the values in the dominant culture. How do people bring along that which is the best in their culture, while fitting in with people in the “everyday” world?
These problems are prevalent at the colleges and universities. There is not a high graduation rate among native students. College is a huge adjustment for everyone; however, growing up in small, rural, isolated villages, the native kids who come to college have, in addition to the shock of academic rigors, a cultural shock as well. June, (a friend of mine who is Yupik), told me that the Inupiaq tribe sends one adult along with each student as a mentor when the student goes to college. These kids have a better success rate; however, that is a considerable investment. How many people can afford to do that?
This weekend’s events were historic and not likely to be experienced for many years to come, if ever. This land, this place, is a place of such incredible beauty, and as I am impressed with the beauty of the place, so too am I impressed with the native people that I have met. They possess true humility and gentle humor, and yet they command great respect.
There are those who speculate that the native peoples have been here for eleven thousand years. Eleven thousand years! We, the white people, only got here yesterday. If we would be open to what these people could teach us – the ways in which they related to and cared for the land – their healthy understanding of man’s place in the cosmos and how to coexist with all other life forms – their great generosity of spirit – if we could take the best of their culture and add it to the best that is in our culture, what a beautiful world we could make!
Mystic Waters in Southeast Alaska
