Haida Eagle Treasures: Traditional Stories and Memories from a Teacher of the Tsath Lanas Clan - Softcover

Collison, Pansy

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1550597485 ISBN 13: 9781550597486

Publisher: Brush Education, 2017

Synopsis

Take a journey into the heart of Haida culture as it is lived and experienced by an extraordinary woman of the Tsath Lanas Eagle Clan. Pansy Collison, a Haida woman born and raised in Old Massett on Haida Gwaii, tells stories of her clan and community, as well as personal narratives about her history and family. Haida Eagle Treasures embodies a strong Haida woman’s voice, offering a rare glimpse inside Haida culture. Each story and memory is a treasure that captures part of the beauty of the Haida worldview and way of life.

Now retired, Pansy taught for 23 years at elementary, secondary, and college levels. From these experiences, she describes some of the challenges and contradictions of living between two worlds. Pansy’s teaching skills, artistic talents, and political affiliations keep her involved in politics and education on Haida Gwaii.

Thirteen original illustrations by Pansy’s brother, Paul White, a gifted artist, teacher, pole carver and designer, provide the guideposts within Haida Eagle Treasures.

About this title

About the Author

Pansy Collison is a Haida woman born and raised in Old Massett, BC. As a teacher, singer, and storyteller, she shares her extensive knowledge of Haida traditions and culture with the younger generations. Pansy is active in band politics, having spent 12 years as a council member and four years as the Deputy Chief Councillor for the Old Massett Band. Now residing in Prince Rupert, Pansy teaches at an elementary school also leads adult workshops in the art of drums, weaving, and traditional regalia.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Introduction: Celebrating Haida Culture through Storytelling

The greatest gift a person can have is to know their identity and their culture. Who are you? Where do you come from? When you know your own history, culture, stories, crests, names, and songs, you are proud of who you are. When you know who you are, you have respect for yourself. You will have a positive attitude towards life and towards other people. You will have empowerment and ambition to pursue your goals. These accomplishments build your self-esteem. I am a Haida woman. I know who I am. I know where I come from. I am proud of my culture and heritage.

Born and raised in the beautiful mystical Islands of Haida Gwaii, this is my home where my family and I grew up. This is where my husband and I go to dig razor clams, and where my children and I go to swoop for crabs with our nets on the exquisite sandy beaches at Tow Hill. This is where my sister Adeline Penna and I go beach combing along the shores collecting gorgeous colorful agates, picking abalone and clams after a big North windstorm. I remember the exciting and challenging times when my sister Rose Bell and I travelled up to the Yakoun River to set up our nets across the river to catch our own sockeye, and this is where Rose and I courageously went out hunting for deer along the roads at Juskatla. I was taught all my life to listen and learn from our Elders. We were brought up in a gentle, but disciplined manner and we were taught at a young age how to work, maintain our integrity, and learn our culture. Children were encouraged to assume responsibility early in life and to work with and learn from adults. In a society in which individual experience was particularly valued, elders were expected to pass their knowledge on to younger people, both orally and by demonstration (Cruikshank, 1995, p. 10). These Islands are our ancient home where our great powerful ancestors have lived since time immemorial. The Haida have lived on Haida Gwaii (formerly known as Queen Charlotte Islands) for the last nine millennia, according to the curator of Canada’s National Museum (Johnson, 1987). Our Elders always tell us that we have lived here from the beginning of time. This book is a personal account of Haida history and culture that blends my personal voice with the Elder’s voices, especially my mother’s and grandmother’s.

My book is the first of its kind to be told and written by a Haida woman. Frederick White, Ph.D., a tall, good-looking, intelligent Haida, also wrote a book called Ancestral Language Acquisition among Native Americans: A study of a Haida Language Class, published in 2008. Dr. White teaches composition, linguistics, and literature in the English department at Slippery Rock University, Pennsylvania. His research interests are vast, but he also has a major focus on linguistic and literacy fields, including Native American and First Nations cultural issues such as history, identity, Haida language revitalization, oral literature, education, and contact narratives. Dr. White is from the Tsath Lanas Eagle Clan. His mother’s name is Margaret Bernhard. His grandfather’s name is Clement White. Clement and my dad, Paul White, are brothers. Dr. White travels all over Canada and United States sharing his knowledge in education and First Nations culture to professional teachers at workshops and as a keynote speaker in education conferences. As teachers, Frederick and I are role models for the First Nations children and Haida communities. Teachers bring with them not only their fund of knowledge but also their culturally patterned ways of organizing and passing on that knowledge. Even more fundamentally, they bring the value systems of their communities concerning what is important to learn and how most appropriately to learn. Native traditions teachers are considered an integral part of the knowledge they possess, and their ways of teaching are as important as the knowledge itself. (Cooley and Ballenger, 1982)

I spent eight years in university and I have read many books on First Nations people. Many books have been written by anthropologists or researchers or linguistics that come to First Nations communities to research, study, and write life histories of First Nations people. Over the last century several authors have written about the Haida people (listed chronologically, Swanton, 1905a, 1905b, 1911, 1912; Curtis, 1970; Blackman, 1982; Drew, 1982; Cogo and Cogo, 1983; Enrico, 1986; Boelscher, 1989; Henley, 1989; MacDonald, 1994; Enrico, 1994, 1995; Enrico and Stuart, 1996; Turner, 2004; White, 2008). My efforts and goals in writing this book are to reach not only the audiences of non-native people, teachers, and children, but also to inspire the Haida community especially, where this book will perhaps encourage other clans from the Raven and Eagle moieties to write their history.

In their book In Celebration of Our Survival, Jensen and Brooks (1991) send an invitation out to aboriginal people to create a self-portrait of First Nations people: For years and years we as aboriginal people have been studied, observed and written about, generally by non-aboriginal writers (p. 9). They further state, “and sometimes even as fascinating anthropological specimens” (p. 9). While all of us who have been in the feast halls and have been involved in Indian organizations have heard the correct versions of our history and our leaders’ plans and visions for the future, many people have not had the opportunity to be there and to hear this information first hand without the biases and slants of observers and interpreters. They further state: A portrait that will tell people who we really are, what we are doing, and our plans, hopes and dreams. We want to portray our strengths, accomplishments, contributions and visions. (p. 9) This is one of the purposes of my book, to portray our identity, pride, traditions, and culture, and tell people I am proud of our Haida heritage and culture.

My purpose is to emphasise that every culture, clan, and community has their own set of values, traditions, and beliefs. My husband, Art Collison, captures some of the concepts of our culture, spirituality, compassion, and family in the poem he wrote as follows:

Haida Gwaii Spirit (September 4, 1991)

My heart is the sea, like a caring father, with the inherent wisdom our forefathers had for thousands of years.

My breath is the four winds, like a loving mother, breathing the breath of life into us since the dawning of the four seasons of time.

My blanket is the warm comforting thoughts of our loved ones silently drifting over the cool blue sea, like grandmother passes her heartfelt love unto her children’s children forever from land to sea, for she is our guiding light to life.

My feet are the earth, like a noble grandfather welcoming us home from a windswept sea.

The spirited wake of seafaring, cedar-crafted canoes surging upon the seashore, paddles dipping into ice waters in perfect harmony with beating drums and vibrant voices singing victorious sea songs.

Happy families descending upon the pebbly beaches as Haida sea hunters return from a call to venture over the enchanting deep blue sea.

Exciting distant images of the past lingering in the outer reaches of my mind, caught up in the wonderment of the vast changing times.

My spirit is nature dancing with the spirits of every living creature created by our ancestors who carved our totem poles which stand in the villages of our mystical Island called Haida Gwaii.

As our Elders live and love, remember to follow in their wise footsteps unto a pathway of peace and prosperity to a happy, fulfilling future life.

Cherish and share the loving memories of your parents and Elders. Let the happiness of their cheerful spirits shine around you like a bright and sunny day. They’ll be there with a warm, loving heart.

Our children play harmoniously in the sunshine, gleefully calling one another’s names with joyous laughter, their sounds drifting along in the gentle summer breeze. Little feet dancing in rhythm with the glittering ripple of the sea.

Listening to the melodious sounds of children playing with blessings from the heavenly skies leaves me content as the evening draws near.

As the sun sets over the western sea our evening sky is a peaceful glow. We’re grateful for the riches from our ocean, mountains, valleys, trees, lakes, rivers. Always care deeply for Mother Nature.

As stars have eternally shone into the universe so will the spirits of the Haida Nation shine with pride and honor forever.

As the starlit sky dances with the brilliance of the northern lights may our spirits unite with our brothers and sisters of the First Nations for us to live in oneness.

Let the pride of our wise heritage inspire us to live in harmony with the spirits of our exalted First Nations.

In the chain of life, should a link become tarnished or broken, forge the link together with love, peace, honesty and forgiving kindness. Through your strength and courage inspire each new generation to forgiveness for it is the beginning of a peaceable, intellectual, existence.

Like the keen eyes and powerful wings of the soaring eagles, the spirits of our ancestors eternally watch over this vast ancient land and sea.

(A. Collison, 1993, p. 43)

When First Nations people learn their history, language, and culture, they will gain a sense of pride in their heritage and a sense of validity of their culture. Many First Nations children did not have the opportunity to learn their languages. My sister, Rose Bell remembers when she went to Residential School. She states the following:

“The government wanted to turn us into white people. Our cultural family units were broken apart. Also, part of becoming ‘white’ was to speak English. Because my parents also attended residential school, they didn’t see the value in teaching us our language. The Indian Agent told them not to speak to their children in Haida because it would not help them in the school. My parents spoke Haida with other adults but didn’t make much effort to teach me. My grandma always spoke Haida to me and I tried hard to understand but it was foreign. Now, in my present life, I know that the Haida language is the key to understanding my people. I need to learn it now and be able to pass it on to my grandchildren. I would love to speak to my mom and Elders in our language. I would learn so much about my heritage and history. It is only now I see and understand the importance of the Haida language.” (Bell, 2001, pp. 8-11)

Language is a conveyor of culture. Language carries the ideas by which a nation defines itself as a people. Language gives voice to a nation’s stories, its mythos. Stories are not just entertainment. Stories are power. They reflect the deepest, the most intimate perceptions, relationships, and attitudes of a people. Stories show how a people, a culture thinks. Such wonderful offerings are seldom reproduced by outsiders. Cultural insight, cultural nuance, cultural metaphor, cultural symbols, hidden subtext—give a book or film the ring of truth. Images coded with our meanings are the very things missing in most “native” writing by non-native authors. These are the very things that give stories their universal appeal, that allow true empathy and shared emotion. (Slapin and Seale, 1992, pp. 98-99)

One way to develop a positive self-worth is through the wonderful art of storytelling; using First Nations stories as a pedagogical bridge allows First Nations children to understand their identity and heritage. There is a shared body of understanding among many indigenous peoples that education is really about helping an individual find his or her face, which means finding out who you are, where you come from and your unique character. (Cajete, 2000, p. 183) I believe students can build their self-confidence and self-esteem through the art of storytelling and reading.

As an educator, I believe storytelling and reading will plant seeds in the child’s learning process and understanding of their unique identity. Through storytelling they will gain pride and respect for themselves. When children learn to read and write properly, they can comprehend the daily school assignments and feel proud of their accomplishments. They will be able to achieve their goals and dreams and they will be successful in completing their educational pursuits. I think I have a lot to contribute to students, regardless of their age or grade, because I am genuinely concerned about our culture. I think I’ve got a really good rapport with the students. They see me as a native person, and come up to me automatically. It’s just easier for them to approach me because I am native. They don’t have any second thoughts. I can understand their environment: where they come from. I can feel some of the struggles that their parents went through, and after I get to know them, I can help out more. If there’s a problem with anything—health, lack of food—I can easily talk to them. I guess there is automatic sensitivity to me. They are able to see who I am, that I am a teacher, and that I can help them. (P. Collison as cited in Benyon, 2008, p. 11) My experiences illustrate a central principle of the landmark policy document Indian Control of Indian Education (1972), mainly that “[Indian] teachers . . . who have an intimate understanding of Indian traditions, psychology, way of life and language . . . are best able to create the learning environment suited to the habits and interests of the Indian child” (National Indian Brotherhood, 1972, as cited in Beynon, 2008, p. 11).

My book offers an appreciation and understanding of Haida culture and history of the Tsath Lanas Eagle clan through my stories and through my mother’s authentic life history. I encourage other First Nations people to write their stories, through their personal experiences and eyewitness accounts, or write the stories of their Elders and grandparents. Volume VII of the En'owkin Journal of First North American Peoples, edited by Kateri Akiwenzie-Damm and Jeannete Armstrong, entitled Gatherings wrote a strong message of encouragement to Indigenous writers to be proud of who they are and to continue to tell their stories. I agree with their sentiments, for I am a Haida woman and our Indigenous voices need to be heard. The following excerpts express this powerful statement:

“indigenous writers. this is the ground upon which we stand. we know this ground and this ground knows us. she recognizes our ancestors in you. she knows our genealogy. we carry this knowing. and so we will not be moved. we will not be muted. even if our stories are ignored. no matter how many times the maps have changed, the borders shifted, the lines drawn. we will not be moved.

indigenous writers this is the ground upon which we stand. this is the motherland. the gathering place. the place for remembering, for singing, for telling stories, for honoring the ones of our ancestors. this is why we stand firm. why we will not be moved. why our writing is resistance. and protest. our sacred places, our homelands, our memories are in our words.

indigenous writers. every mark on every page is a foot firmly planted. every story, every poem, every word given breath, is eternal. imprinted into eternity. like the moon in the night sky, enduring.

indigenous writers. this is our territory. this is indigenous land. where our values, our ways of speaking, our oral traditions, our languages, our philosophies, our concepts, our histories, our literary traditions, our aesthetics are expressed and accepted and honored each according to our nations. this is where we carve our stories into the memories of our people, we sing our songs our children will remember. it is to them we speak. it is for them we sing.

these are our stories, our songs, our words, spoken in our voices in our ways for our people.” (Akiwenzie-Damm, 1996, pp. 1-2)

The greatest contributions to academia my book offers is a First Nations woman’s perspective. As an insider, I know what it means to be born and raised as a Haida—to live the life of a Haida. The culture, traditions and language that I learned are my culture and I want to share this vast knowledge with others, so others can gain an appreciation of our culture through my voice. Storytelling is a universal activity and may well be the oldest of the arts. It has always provided a vehicle for the expression of ideas, particularly in societies relying on oral traditions (Cruikshank, 1995, p. ix). When native peoples are allowed to speak of their history and their lives, it will be to tell the truth (Slapin and Seale, 1992, p. 13).

For many Native Americans, daily life was a process of learning with the ultimate purpose of preparing children to be functional members of their community (Tafoya, 1989, p. 40). The children learned their roles, their societal responsibilities, survival skills, artistic skills (such as carving and weaving), their histories, and tribal stories—all of which they themselves would, after the completion of their apprenticeship, pass on as they became parents and elders themselves (Stairs, 1993, p. 87). The oral traditions, the most dominant cultural tradition among Native North American communities, instilled children with tribal histories and stories in both community dwelling places and natural settings. Much of the apprenticeship for the Haida, especially concerning survival skills, involved learning about their environment. Both boys and girls received most of their practical learning out in the open air, in the forests, on the beaches, and wherever they needed to be to learn a particular skill being taught (see Blackman, 1982; Friesen, Archibald, and Jack, 1992). Within this informal learning environment, the main “teachers” were usually family members, and the content had a functional purpose to ensure survival and to preserve the tribe’s oral history through stories and songs (White, 2008, p. 5).

The greatest mentors I had were my grandparents and my mother. My first teacher was my grandmother, Amanda Edgars, whom we called Nonny. She started intentionally teaching me the Haida culture when I was twelve years old, shortly after our house burned down in Old Massett Village. Our family went to live with our grandparents and Nonny Amanda taught me through observation and practice. This was the beginning of my valuable tutelage under my grandmother. Throughout my teenage and adolescent years, I always made time to visit my grandmother and listen to her tell me stories of our history and culture. My grandmother’s teaching is an example of the Mission Statement found in the National Indian Brotherhood’s1972 treatise on Indian philosophy of education:

“We want education to provide the setting in which our children can develop the fundamental attitudes and values which have an honored place in Indian tradition and culture. The values which we want to pass on to our children, values which make our people a great race, are not written in any book. They are found in our history, in our legends and in the culture. We believe that if an Indian child is fully aware of the important Indian values he will have reason to be proud of our race and of himself as an Indian. We want the behavior of our children to be shaped by those values which are most esteemed in our culture. When our children come to school they have already developed certain attitudes and habits which are based on experiences in the family. School programs which are influenced by these values respect cultural priority and are an extension of the education which parents give children from their first years. These early lessons emphasize attitudes of self-reliance, respect for personal freedom, generosity, respect for nature and wisdom.” (as cited in Kirkness, 1992, p. 28)

As Cajete (2000) put it: “education should also help you to find your heart, which is that passionate sense of self that motivates you and moves you along in life” (as cited in Beynon, 2008, p. 53).

The Haida people had a highly structured community before the Europeans arrived in North America. Education was central for all First Nations communities. The extended families shared the responsibilities for educating and guiding the children (see White, 2008). Jeannette Armstrong (1987) describes the traditional indigenous peoples’ view of education as, “a natural process occurring during everyday activities . . . ensuring cultural continuity and survival of the mental, spiritual, emotional and physical well-being of the cultural unit and of its environment” (p. 14). The uncles of each family were the key teachers who guided and developed the talents of their nephews. Haida women were held in high esteem and the matriarchs of each family were the key advisors to the Chiefs. Elders were also knowledgeable about geography, subsistence, and important social values. This knowledge positioned them as respected healers, religious practitioners, historians, genealogists, and “cultural professors” (see Beynon, 2008; Sterling, 2002). My grandmother, the Late Amanda Edgars said the following: “The Haida people were powerful warriors, great protectors of the land, excellent canoe builders, and skilled and talented carvers. Each Haida Clan lived under the guidance of their Chiefs. Our people all knew which clan they belonged to, who their relatives were and what their Haida names were. They knew the stories of our people” (Edgars, personal communication, 1985).

Our Haida ancestors had a brilliant and sophisticated way of life before non-natives came to Haida Gwaii. Verna J. Kirkness’s (1992) description of the traditional forms of education perfectly captures the elegance of this way of teaching:

“Long before Europeans arrived in North America, Indians had evolved their own form of education. It was an education in which the community and the natural environment were the classroom, and the land was seen as the mother of the people. Members of the community were the teachers, and each adult was responsible for ensuring that each child learned how to live a good life. The development of the whole person was emphasized through teachings which were often shared in storytelling.” (p. 5)

Before contact with non-natives, First Nations and the Haida people’s traditional education was linked with economics, the land, and survival. As a young girl, my grandmother taught me how to respect the land. She said: “The land is your survival. The sea will give you salmon, seaweed, clams, cockles, and many other sea foods. The trees will provide the roots for our people to weave the hats, baskets, and clothing. You have to watch, listen, and learn from the Elders to respect the land and take only enough to feed your family and share with others. When you take too much, you are not respecting the land or the food which it provides.” (Edgars, 1985)

David Suzuki states the following: “North America, to the native people living here, is more than simply a place, a piece of turf. Land embodies culture, history, and the remains of distant ancestors. Land is the source of all life and the basis of identity. Land is sacred. An overriding sense in aboriginal perceptions is that of gratitude for nature’s bounty and beauty. Gratitude and respect” (as cited in Henley, 1989, p. 11).

As a teacher, I believe when students are provided relevant stories, the art of storytelling and the ability to read can be used as a key strategy for First Nations and Haida children to gain respect for themselves and gain a sense of pride in their identity. As an educator, I believe a person is never too young or too old to learn. Everyday a person is able to learn something new by observation, listening, or reading. My husband attended Residential School. During the healing he needed after this experience, he found that learning from Elders and reading encouraging books helped him immeasurably. He states the following:

“Elders were a major influence in my healing process. They gave me advice and direction and helped me adjust to a more positive way of living. Uncle Herman Price, in particular, gave me many words of advice. He would always ask me how I was doing at the logging camp. I would tell him that I liked the job, but I was afraid of making mistakes. He said, “Making a mistake is what education is all about. From your mistakes you learn to never do it again and you can make improvements from your mistakes.” The many years that I worked at the different logging camps gave me the time that I needed to do soul searching. My main source of education was obtained by reading. I avidly read newspapers and many books on self-improvement and religion.” (A. Collison, 1993, p. 39)

Through transformation stories children learn traditional values such as humility, honesty, courage, kindness, and respect. On the Northwest Coast, each tribe has stories told of their legendary heroes. For example: Haida people and other First Nations people have stories about the Raven who was both a trickster and a creator. The Bear is the spiritual protector for the Tsath Lanas clan. Each clan has their own crests with special significance; the humming bird, which represents a sign of good luck to some clans, is another example of such symbols.

My grandmother has told me stories all my life, and she always gave me advice. No matter what else she told me, she always said the most important element is to listen. This oral tradition has always been one of the primary skills. We had to learn how to listen. Nonny said, “You have to ‘listen’ to what I am telling you. Don’t let your emotions speak.” One of the lessons I learned through my experience is the power of words. It all depends on how a person speaks to you and how you are able to use words in a positive or negative manner. In person to person interaction, indicators of the message include body language, facial expression, tone behind the words, and words themselves (Mussell, Nicholls, and Adler, 1991, p. 84).

Even in difficult circumstances, we often find the tools for change in the oppressive systems themselves. As Holland, Lachicotte, Skinner, and Cain (1998) put it: “while ‘alien’ voices may position us, they also provide us with tools to reshape our positions” (p. 45). In conversations, we may struggle with the positions others attempt to impose upon us. Afraid of being shot down by louder or more dominant voices, we may not say what we really think. In contrast, stories are a medium through which we may both select the positions we occupy and challenge the positions assigned to us by others. We can say what we think and feel, work out our ideas and concerns, and choose to share these if we wish. (Beynon, 2008, p. 22) It is not only through dialogue but also through story that we make sense of our own and other’s lives: “In telling a fragment of his or her autobiography a speaker assigns parts and characters in the episodes described” (Davies and Harre, 1999, p. 3). During the past eighteen years of my teaching career in British Columbia, I experienced both positive and negative encounters. Majority of my teaching experiences are positive and rewarding. It was only during several difficult encounters that I experienced in my teaching career and life that I was inspired to write the poem called “Trails and Tribulations.” Learning is a lifelong process and we all live and learn something new everyday.

Through my experiences, I have learned that sometimes silence is a sign of patience, courage, and endurance. There is a time to speak and there is a time to keep silent. Haidas and everyone else have to be strong to know when it is time to speak and when it is time to refrain. Nonny Amanda taught me how to listen, but she also taught me when to recognize when it is time to listen to Elders and learn, and not interrupt. I was taught that silence is golden. I was taught how to listen, when to speak and when to be silent. The art of listening and knowing when to speak or not speak is another skill that I continue to learn throughout my life. Many times I reflect back to my grandmother’s words of wisdom and I am grateful that I listened to her wise words. I learned that silence is regarded as the importance of character and the art of listening is the central skill and object of education. The ability to listen well and to hear all is an important objective for many Haida people. As stated by Kirkness (1992): “Although there was little segregation of family for events, whether social or work-related, children were taught that there were times when they should be silent and allow the adults to speak without interruption. Silence was regarded as the cornerstone of character. As Chief Wabasha stated, ‘Guard your tongue in youth and in age you may mature a thought that will be of service to your people. The fruits of silence are self-control, true courage or endurance, patience, dignity and reverence.'” (p. 8)

I believe it is important to observe that each First Nations has developed its protocol around stories and the art of storytelling. Two other Northwest Coast communities, the Tsimshian and Nisga'a have their own protocol, which I came to understand as a member of the First Nations Council for several years (now known as the Aboriginal Council). The Nisga'a have their own protocol. Former President of the Nisga'a Tribal Council Mr. Joseph Gosnell wrote about how many years it takes to make an adawx. When I taught First Nations Studies 11/12, I used this newspaper article as one example to compare the difference of how the Tsimshian and Nisga'a people write their stories. In a news article called “This adaawak took a century to compose,” Mr. Gosnell (1996) explains one example of an adawx.

“I was struck by the story of the chieftains who, more than a century ago, pushed a 50-foot cedar canoe into the Nass River and paddled down the coast to Victoria’s inner harbor. They went to petition the government of the day, led by Premier William Smithe, for an early settlement to the Nisga'a Land Question. But when they reached the capitol and climbed the steps of the parliament buildings and knocked on the door they were turned away. The Nisga'a were to be turned away many times mo

Edition details

• Publisher: Brush Education
• Publication date: 2017
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1550597485
• ISBN 13: 9781550597486
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 244