Jim Remsen's Blog: The Slave as "Crushed Vegetable'' - Posts Tagged "university-of-pennsylvania"
Wampum - A Living Object
Mention wampum and a non-Native American person might think of money. It’s sometimes a synonym for cash in our everyday slang. Others may have a vague notion that wampum was used ceremonially at Indian-white treaty councils as part of exchanges of trade goods, tokens and the like.
Wampum is so much more. To the Indians, the strings of cylindrical beads carved from quahog shells are able to bear witness to events, embody collective emotions, and secure diplomatic promises – not merely signify all those purposes but truly embody and bespeak them.
Earlier this year, I attended a talk about wampum by Margaret Bruchac, an Abenaki woman and an anthropologist at the University of Pennsylvania. She underscored wampum’s supernal importance in native tradition, saying the wampum strings become animate objects when words are spoken into it.
In my new historical novel about Indian-settler affairs, Visions of Teaoga, the 18th century native matriarch Esther typifies that understanding. In an early scene, she accepts the Seneca chief Red Jacket’s offer to attend a peace council in this way: “Taking the wampum strings in hand, Esther gave her reply. She held the strands of sacred shell beads aloft in her open palm, letting them spiritually receive her pledge as was the custom. ‘Brother, I have heard your words and my heart is stirred. Perhaps the Preserver has brought me to this time for this purpose. My Tutelo friends have endured many dark days. If they need my presence, I cannot refuse. If you need my presence to help keep the treaty fire bright, I cannot refuse. My sixty winters have worn down my body and weakened my eyesight. Let us hope it has not dimmed my vision.’ ”
Later in the book, I draw directly from Red Jacket’s actual words as recorded from that 1790 peace council: “Our forefathers told us that when a treaty was finished, by preserving the belts used we would know and could tell our children what had been done.” White wampum beheld harmony, while purple embodied distress, danger, death – attributes that figure in Esther’s use on her wampum strings in the novel.
Traditionally, wampum beads “were used sparingly to create belts to commemorate great events, to preserve history, to declare peace or war, to record elections, and to heal families from the pain of losing a family member. The messages conveyed in the belts were considered law, and were honoured and respected as such.” That explanation is from a fine blog post that profiles a Cayuga Indian “Faithkeeper” and wampum maker, Ken Maracle. The post includes a video in which Mr. Maracle tells how he feels “guided by his ancestors” in his work.
The Cayuga tribe figures large in Visions of Teaoga, so I was delighted to see the video. You can watch it, and read the wampum essay, here:
http://workingeffectivelywithaborigin...
Wampum is so much more. To the Indians, the strings of cylindrical beads carved from quahog shells are able to bear witness to events, embody collective emotions, and secure diplomatic promises – not merely signify all those purposes but truly embody and bespeak them.
Earlier this year, I attended a talk about wampum by Margaret Bruchac, an Abenaki woman and an anthropologist at the University of Pennsylvania. She underscored wampum’s supernal importance in native tradition, saying the wampum strings become animate objects when words are spoken into it.
In my new historical novel about Indian-settler affairs, Visions of Teaoga, the 18th century native matriarch Esther typifies that understanding. In an early scene, she accepts the Seneca chief Red Jacket’s offer to attend a peace council in this way: “Taking the wampum strings in hand, Esther gave her reply. She held the strands of sacred shell beads aloft in her open palm, letting them spiritually receive her pledge as was the custom. ‘Brother, I have heard your words and my heart is stirred. Perhaps the Preserver has brought me to this time for this purpose. My Tutelo friends have endured many dark days. If they need my presence, I cannot refuse. If you need my presence to help keep the treaty fire bright, I cannot refuse. My sixty winters have worn down my body and weakened my eyesight. Let us hope it has not dimmed my vision.’ ”
Later in the book, I draw directly from Red Jacket’s actual words as recorded from that 1790 peace council: “Our forefathers told us that when a treaty was finished, by preserving the belts used we would know and could tell our children what had been done.” White wampum beheld harmony, while purple embodied distress, danger, death – attributes that figure in Esther’s use on her wampum strings in the novel.
Traditionally, wampum beads “were used sparingly to create belts to commemorate great events, to preserve history, to declare peace or war, to record elections, and to heal families from the pain of losing a family member. The messages conveyed in the belts were considered law, and were honoured and respected as such.” That explanation is from a fine blog post that profiles a Cayuga Indian “Faithkeeper” and wampum maker, Ken Maracle. The post includes a video in which Mr. Maracle tells how he feels “guided by his ancestors” in his work.
The Cayuga tribe figures large in Visions of Teaoga, so I was delighted to see the video. You can watch it, and read the wampum essay, here:
http://workingeffectivelywithaborigin...
Learning, the Native Way
Imagine it. Three thousand hours of American Indian oral recordings, brought out of the archives after decades, digitized, and made available to the public – that means you -- for free. A database of six thousand traditional Iroquois names, now searchable by clan affiliation.
Those and other precious native holdings of the American Philosophical Society have been brought forth for sharing in a respectful new collaboration between that eminent Philadelphia institution and a host of native tribes across North America.
I knew nothing about this remarkable initiative, which was highlighted at a conference organized by the University of Pennsylvania’s Native American and Indigenous Studies program. Looking to attend a good event on November’s Native American Heritage Month calendar, I happily located this one, which showcased what it called “innovative approaches to recovering and engaging with Indigenous knowledge in the classroom and in the field.” As a sign of this native partnership with the academy, a banner displaying the Hiawatha belt was prominent on the stage.
Timothy Powell, who directs the philosophical society’s Native American Project, told the audience how his team has been digitizing and sharing papers and other holdings with more than 100 native communities to help them revitalize their cultures and languages. For instance, a Penobscot dictionary has been disseminated into that community to help members revive and broaden use of their language. Recordings of Tuscarora “wisdom keepers,” made on a defunct wire-spool device in the 1940s, have also been digitized and shared: “from oral to wire to digital to oral again,” Powell remarked.
Similarly, recordings of traditional musicians, recorded generations ago on wax cylinders, are being digitized and shared. Creating the database of traditional names by clan affiliation has been a breakthrough for Iroquois groups, Powell said, because members are traditionally named by clan mothers but awareness of all the traditional names had faded over time.
Powell urged anyone to contact him to get online access to the philosophical society’s vast oral recordings. He’s reachable at tpowell@amphilsoc.org.
The convener of the Nov.7-8 conference, Penn anthropology professor Margaret Bruchac, explained that the university’s minor in Native American and Indigenous Studies has served to bring together the disciplines of anthropology, education, history, law, linguistics, religious studies, art history, folklore and even nursing. (Indeed, Powell said videos of native healers have been used in Penn’s nursing school.)
Bruchac is researching how a predecessor at the University Museum, famed anthropologist Frank Speck, embedded himself with native communities a century ago and was entrusted with masks, wampum belts and other sacred objects. The elders told him to regard every object “as a grandfather and to keep it until it was safe to return it to the community.” Some of the belts and other objects disappeared, however, and Bruchac, an Abenaki Indian, is working hard to track them down. She chronicles her exploits in her outstanding “On the Wampum Trail” blog: http://wampumtrail.wordpress.com/tag/...
Another presenter was Doug George Kanentiio, a Mohawk activist who helped develop the Hiawatha Institute for Indigenous Knowledge, based in Syracuse. The institute is named for the legendary figure crediting with establishing the Iroquois (Haudenosaunee) Confederacy centuries ago. The Hiawatha Institute aims to be a resource center and to ally with schools to offer classes and distance learning in “music, history, law, biology, theater, language and the fine arts, all from a distinctly indigenous perspective.” You can learn more at www.hiawatha.syr.edu.
A new day has dawned in the academy, at least in some corners of higher learning. Over and over the conference’s speakers expressed profound regard for traditional knowledge and cultural patrimony. A guiding principle has been the Iroquois ethic of looking seven generations forward and seven generations back. As Powell said, for something to be of lasting value “it needs to benefit people seven generations in the future.”
Those and other precious native holdings of the American Philosophical Society have been brought forth for sharing in a respectful new collaboration between that eminent Philadelphia institution and a host of native tribes across North America.
I knew nothing about this remarkable initiative, which was highlighted at a conference organized by the University of Pennsylvania’s Native American and Indigenous Studies program. Looking to attend a good event on November’s Native American Heritage Month calendar, I happily located this one, which showcased what it called “innovative approaches to recovering and engaging with Indigenous knowledge in the classroom and in the field.” As a sign of this native partnership with the academy, a banner displaying the Hiawatha belt was prominent on the stage.
Timothy Powell, who directs the philosophical society’s Native American Project, told the audience how his team has been digitizing and sharing papers and other holdings with more than 100 native communities to help them revitalize their cultures and languages. For instance, a Penobscot dictionary has been disseminated into that community to help members revive and broaden use of their language. Recordings of Tuscarora “wisdom keepers,” made on a defunct wire-spool device in the 1940s, have also been digitized and shared: “from oral to wire to digital to oral again,” Powell remarked.
Similarly, recordings of traditional musicians, recorded generations ago on wax cylinders, are being digitized and shared. Creating the database of traditional names by clan affiliation has been a breakthrough for Iroquois groups, Powell said, because members are traditionally named by clan mothers but awareness of all the traditional names had faded over time.
Powell urged anyone to contact him to get online access to the philosophical society’s vast oral recordings. He’s reachable at tpowell@amphilsoc.org.
The convener of the Nov.7-8 conference, Penn anthropology professor Margaret Bruchac, explained that the university’s minor in Native American and Indigenous Studies has served to bring together the disciplines of anthropology, education, history, law, linguistics, religious studies, art history, folklore and even nursing. (Indeed, Powell said videos of native healers have been used in Penn’s nursing school.)
Bruchac is researching how a predecessor at the University Museum, famed anthropologist Frank Speck, embedded himself with native communities a century ago and was entrusted with masks, wampum belts and other sacred objects. The elders told him to regard every object “as a grandfather and to keep it until it was safe to return it to the community.” Some of the belts and other objects disappeared, however, and Bruchac, an Abenaki Indian, is working hard to track them down. She chronicles her exploits in her outstanding “On the Wampum Trail” blog: http://wampumtrail.wordpress.com/tag/...
Another presenter was Doug George Kanentiio, a Mohawk activist who helped develop the Hiawatha Institute for Indigenous Knowledge, based in Syracuse. The institute is named for the legendary figure crediting with establishing the Iroquois (Haudenosaunee) Confederacy centuries ago. The Hiawatha Institute aims to be a resource center and to ally with schools to offer classes and distance learning in “music, history, law, biology, theater, language and the fine arts, all from a distinctly indigenous perspective.” You can learn more at www.hiawatha.syr.edu.
A new day has dawned in the academy, at least in some corners of higher learning. Over and over the conference’s speakers expressed profound regard for traditional knowledge and cultural patrimony. A guiding principle has been the Iroquois ethic of looking seven generations forward and seven generations back. As Powell said, for something to be of lasting value “it needs to benefit people seven generations in the future.”
Saving the Lenape language
The game efforts to keep the Lenape (Delaware Indian) language alive has been on my checklist of good blog topics from day one. Other ideas kept crowding it out, however, so it stayed in later-soon status. But it’s time now, past time, to jump in.
What brought the issue back to mind is a language controversy currently embroiling the Navajo people in Arizona. Perhaps you read about it in this week’s New York Times. The Navajo Nation just installed new leaders – except for elected president Chris Deschene. It seems that fluency in the cherished Navajo (Dine) language is a requirement of leadership, and a court challenge over Deschene’s lack of proficiency led to his being disqualified from office. The future of the tribe’s leadership, and of the fluency requirement, sadly remains up in the air.
Back in Pennsylvania, the descendants of the region’s indigenous Lenape people have reasserted their culture and their very presence over the last few decades. Last summer I wrote here about how representatives of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania took a river journey down the Delaware River bearing a Treaty of Renewed Friendship they signed with environmental groups, churches, historical societies, and other supporters. The Lenape group has a web presence and has helped to inform public displays and scholarship at the University of Pennsylvania, Swarthmore College and elsewhere.
One of the most inspiring, and probably toughest, aspects of the Lenape’s modern-day revival has been salvaging their endangered language. This language holds a special place in our history, being widely enough understood in colonial days that it was often the choice of diplomatic interpreters. It certainly figures largely in the white-Indian council proceedings in my historical novel Visions of Teaoga.
But today, according to Shelley DePaul, chief of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania, there are only three proficient Lenape speakers left in her community. Yes, three.
DePaul is one of them--but she is working hard to turn that around. Since 2009 she has taught her language in a unique program in Swarthmore College’s linguistics department. She teaches a combination of Lenape culture and language to students who generally are not native themselves.
According to a Swarthmore College article about the project, DePaul and her students have transcribed surviving passages of the language. They’ve set grammar standards. They’ve developed dictionaries, primers and phonetic renditions, much of it available online. She said they've even translated cultural ceremonies back into Lenape so her people can perform them as originally intended.
“Lenape is not taught at any other institution of higher learning in the world,” linguistics chair K. David Harrison was quoted as saying. “The fact that it's being taught here, in the traditional Lenape homeland [the Delaware River watershed], makes a small contribution toward addressing past injustices suffered by Native Americans.”
Shelley DePaul’s invaluable work reminds me of an article I wrote in the 1970s when I was a VISTA staffer for an American Indian newspaper in North Dakota. There was a desperate effort to transcribe the spoken language of the Arikara Indians by tapping the tongue and knowledge of one of its last living speakers. The effort bore fruit. The Arikara language remains alive, though on life support, still spoken by a few reservation elders.
An irony of DePaul’s project is that non-Lenape Swarthmore students have become some of the most fluent Lenape speakers alive. But perhaps out of their goodwill effort, a measure of historical justice will emerge.
To check out some Lenape vocab and expressions, go to:
http://www.swarthmore.edu/SocSci/Ling...
What brought the issue back to mind is a language controversy currently embroiling the Navajo people in Arizona. Perhaps you read about it in this week’s New York Times. The Navajo Nation just installed new leaders – except for elected president Chris Deschene. It seems that fluency in the cherished Navajo (Dine) language is a requirement of leadership, and a court challenge over Deschene’s lack of proficiency led to his being disqualified from office. The future of the tribe’s leadership, and of the fluency requirement, sadly remains up in the air.
Back in Pennsylvania, the descendants of the region’s indigenous Lenape people have reasserted their culture and their very presence over the last few decades. Last summer I wrote here about how representatives of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania took a river journey down the Delaware River bearing a Treaty of Renewed Friendship they signed with environmental groups, churches, historical societies, and other supporters. The Lenape group has a web presence and has helped to inform public displays and scholarship at the University of Pennsylvania, Swarthmore College and elsewhere.
One of the most inspiring, and probably toughest, aspects of the Lenape’s modern-day revival has been salvaging their endangered language. This language holds a special place in our history, being widely enough understood in colonial days that it was often the choice of diplomatic interpreters. It certainly figures largely in the white-Indian council proceedings in my historical novel Visions of Teaoga.
But today, according to Shelley DePaul, chief of the Lenape Nation of Pennsylvania, there are only three proficient Lenape speakers left in her community. Yes, three.
DePaul is one of them--but she is working hard to turn that around. Since 2009 she has taught her language in a unique program in Swarthmore College’s linguistics department. She teaches a combination of Lenape culture and language to students who generally are not native themselves.
According to a Swarthmore College article about the project, DePaul and her students have transcribed surviving passages of the language. They’ve set grammar standards. They’ve developed dictionaries, primers and phonetic renditions, much of it available online. She said they've even translated cultural ceremonies back into Lenape so her people can perform them as originally intended.
“Lenape is not taught at any other institution of higher learning in the world,” linguistics chair K. David Harrison was quoted as saying. “The fact that it's being taught here, in the traditional Lenape homeland [the Delaware River watershed], makes a small contribution toward addressing past injustices suffered by Native Americans.”
Shelley DePaul’s invaluable work reminds me of an article I wrote in the 1970s when I was a VISTA staffer for an American Indian newspaper in North Dakota. There was a desperate effort to transcribe the spoken language of the Arikara Indians by tapping the tongue and knowledge of one of its last living speakers. The effort bore fruit. The Arikara language remains alive, though on life support, still spoken by a few reservation elders.
An irony of DePaul’s project is that non-Lenape Swarthmore students have become some of the most fluent Lenape speakers alive. But perhaps out of their goodwill effort, a measure of historical justice will emerge.
To check out some Lenape vocab and expressions, go to:
http://www.swarthmore.edu/SocSci/Ling...
The Slave as "Crushed Vegetable''
In researching the Underground Railroad past of my hometown, Waverly, Pa., I came across a fascinating explication of the abolition mission, at least as it was understood by white participants in the
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