When a people, a tribe, a culture is colonized it takes many forms. Many of our battles today are about the loss of our ancestral lands, lands that in the case of most of cultures we never owned, because how can a human own land? It is old and wise and we are like children. Even those who say they own it only live on it for short period, they pass on and it remains.
While we may have been killed caste out, put in reservations or driven to distant lands are we still not who we are?. We are the children of our parents the descendents of those who walked this world before us?.
Many of us no longer practice the ways of our ancestors and our children see no future, no power and no point in our traditional ways. Our languages, which are the very breath of our ancestors, are left to slowly die. Our views, ways of thinking are left behind for the ways of the 'western world' with its promise of a better life easier life. Yet for all these promises are we happy? . Alcoholism, drug addiction, child abuse, fighting, murder and suicide stalk our people.
The world of no tribe, of no roots of no family has no happiness, yet we are pulled to it like children to candy. It is sweet but it contains no sustenance. Those of us in our tribes and cultures who talk about being great again, are often mistrusted and misunderstood by our own people and own governments many of which have, in practice if not in name, moved away from our traditions
We must trust ourselves, become new warriors, women and men who put our people first and in so doing respect all people. Hard work, courage, compassion and love are our weapons. We face many difficult battles. Reclaiming our names, our spirit, our language. We need to put learning at the center of what we do, not just reading and writing as the western world, but also learn the knowledge of humanity and spirit that comes from examining ourselves and the life of the world around us.
Make a start in your life, one step, do not fear ridicule that says that thinking in the old ways is embarrassing. Believe in your journey, believe in your ancestors, believe in your people, even if they have forgotten how to believe. I does not matter what culture you come from, we all come from the same place, trust in your ancestors and reconnect with their goodness for the sake of those yet to come.
May your journey be a great one.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Normal and abnormal - Unity in Diversity
Cultural colonialism and linguistic colonialism is often difficult to explain, but it could be said that it as all about making the normal abnormal and the abnormal normal. Our languages are more than ways of speaking, they are ways of knowing. How we see the world depends on our cultural values and it is these values that are woven into the very fiber of our languages. In this way our native languages are our culture, or more correctly a way to it. How can be understand, feel, empathize with our ancestors, be they in the distant past or our parents and grandparents, if we do not understand their view of life. In the world today the many ways of knowing are being lost, we are moving toward one way of being, the international western way. This way does not respect difference, diversity, native spirituality and environmental sustainability.
Reclaiming your name is a real act, but it is also a metaphor for saying and ensuring that the life of your culture starts with you, with your individual acts of selflessness for your people. Often your people will not thank you for your acts, they will make little of you and malign you. Remember our peoples have and our being constantly told that our ways are antiquated, they are of no importance and of no value. This is what the western world tells us, this is how it makes normal abnormal. We know better, with dignity, strength and gentleness we reclaim our birth right and encourage other peoples to do the same. Through this and through working for each other we will find a better way that units us in diversity.
Reclaiming your name is a real act, but it is also a metaphor for saying and ensuring that the life of your culture starts with you, with your individual acts of selflessness for your people. Often your people will not thank you for your acts, they will make little of you and malign you. Remember our peoples have and our being constantly told that our ways are antiquated, they are of no importance and of no value. This is what the western world tells us, this is how it makes normal abnormal. We know better, with dignity, strength and gentleness we reclaim our birth right and encourage other peoples to do the same. Through this and through working for each other we will find a better way that units us in diversity.
Monday, September 26, 2011
A post from an Irish-American contributer
I think this blog is really neat. My grandfather came from Ireland and he talked about how people in the late 1800's took different names to hide. I remember him talking about people call McShane, which according to a book I have is Mac Seáin in Irish language. They changed their names to Johnson. This was the closest to an English language version of their already changed name from MacSeain. They did this to hide, so they would not be identified or I guess victimized in work when they moved to the city
I think people should reclaim their names, be it first names or surnames. I would be a great positive message
Thanks
Owen.
I think people should reclaim their names, be it first names or surnames. I would be a great positive message
Thanks
Owen.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
A story from Ireland.
This story might not seem as powerful coming from Ireland as a Dané story from western United States, a Maori story. or an Inuit story which are all very inspiring to me. But here goes. I am an ordinary man raised in Ireland, in the north, during what is known throughout the world as 'the troubles'. I grew-up with a strong sense of self and place. I was Irish, but to be honest I never knew what that really meant, except it was the place in which I was born. Growing up my father and my grandmother on my mothers side had a strong positive influence on my sense of self and identity. They sowed seeds in my mind and spirit, whether by accident or design I do not know. I now know, as a parent myself, that sowing seeds of knowledge, memories and feelings are so important.
Growing up I had a passion for wild things, animals, plants and places, I was in awe of the diversity of the natural world. I became a biologist and traveled enough outside of the Anglo or English language dominated world to see other cultures, peoples and ways of knowing.
As much as I was struck about the diversity of animals and plants I was also struck greatly by the diversity of humanity with which I met. This really awakened something in me with regard my own positive identity. I started to read and learn about Ireland and our Gaelic ancestors, our culture and how it was changed by being systematically crushed, first by English and then by our anglicized selves. I learned that most Gaelic names , both first names and surnames have been corrupted as part of a colonial past that valued little of anything that was not of the colonizing culture . I learned how conquest destroyed Gaelic ways to the point that people of Gaelic descent, for the most part, have little knowledge and thus little value in the ways of our ancestors. They do not see any value and the knowledge I believe can still pass down to us. We are reduced to the western model of identity which is based solely on a national identity i.e. I am Irish because I live in a place which (in English) is called Ireland. For me this form of narrow identity ignores everything except what is expedient at the time, it also reduced us to shadows of what could be.
To discuss identity in the ways that the posts from the Dané, Maori and Inuit people have discussed, in this country, would be seen by many as crazy, after-all we are European not indigenous people?. Well I don't agree, our history our language, our traditional ways all say something else. We are modern people, that is we are alive now, but I believe that if we do not make links from our past to our future then we lose our birthright!
Thanks for this opportunity to learn from other people and to gain support from each other.
Neart an Aontais. / There is strength in unity.
Growing up I had a passion for wild things, animals, plants and places, I was in awe of the diversity of the natural world. I became a biologist and traveled enough outside of the Anglo or English language dominated world to see other cultures, peoples and ways of knowing.
As much as I was struck about the diversity of animals and plants I was also struck greatly by the diversity of humanity with which I met. This really awakened something in me with regard my own positive identity. I started to read and learn about Ireland and our Gaelic ancestors, our culture and how it was changed by being systematically crushed, first by English and then by our anglicized selves. I learned that most Gaelic names , both first names and surnames have been corrupted as part of a colonial past that valued little of anything that was not of the colonizing culture . I learned how conquest destroyed Gaelic ways to the point that people of Gaelic descent, for the most part, have little knowledge and thus little value in the ways of our ancestors. They do not see any value and the knowledge I believe can still pass down to us. We are reduced to the western model of identity which is based solely on a national identity i.e. I am Irish because I live in a place which (in English) is called Ireland. For me this form of narrow identity ignores everything except what is expedient at the time, it also reduced us to shadows of what could be.
To discuss identity in the ways that the posts from the Dané, Maori and Inuit people have discussed, in this country, would be seen by many as crazy, after-all we are European not indigenous people?. Well I don't agree, our history our language, our traditional ways all say something else. We are modern people, that is we are alive now, but I believe that if we do not make links from our past to our future then we lose our birthright!
Thanks for this opportunity to learn from other people and to gain support from each other.
Neart an Aontais. / There is strength in unity.
Monday, September 19, 2011
An Inuit story from http://www.nunavut.com sent to us.
By Ann Meekitjuk Hanson
he technical translation of nunavut is simply "our land." The emotional, spiritual, deeper meaning of nunavut or nunavun is "our homeland." The unspoken meaning stresses "home." To some Inuit, with deeper knowledge of the language, when nunavut is spoken, the silent understanding means "we share in this together, unconditionally," and there is an intense gratitude.
We have gone through a lot in a short time. Among those who have left their mark on us are whalers, Christian ministers, traders, police, teachers, scientists, and southern politicians. Some of these people had good intentions, and our ancestors welcomed them because tradition and belief ruled them with good manners, kindness, and curiosity. Inuit today inherited both the good and bad effects of these influences.
I grew up knowing myself as an Inuk — simply translated, a human, breathing being. Later, I learned I was called an Eskimo . I never identified the word Eskimo as an insult. In fact, when I was travelling outside of Nunavut I would voluntarily and proudly offer the information, "I am an Eskimo." Today, I am back to Inuk.
Traditionally, it was up to elders to name babies after relatives or favorite people, and many given names had long been used — names like Aniqmiuq, Annogakuluuk, Annogaq, Arnaquq, Kimalu, Aitii, Maatu, Quvianatukuluk, Makivik, Yutai, Aiuula, Suu, Yugayugausiq, Arnaguatsaaq, Angusimaajuq, Qiilabaq, Nuiijaut, Ikilluaq, and thousands more. When the missionaries came, some could not pronounce these ancient names properly. They gave our people names from the Bible — Joanasie, from John, Jamiesie (James), Olutie (Ruth), Miali (Mary), Salamonie (Solomon), Noah, Jonah, Ipeelie (Abel), Ilisapie (Elizabeth), and so on. Among ourselves, we always used our ancient names. So when I was baptized, I became Annie, but to my parents and elders, I was Lutaaq, Pilitaq, Palluq, or Inusiq.
To the Canadian government, however, I was Annie E7-121! In the early 1940s, Inuit had to be counted and identified for government records so that our parents or guardians could receive family allowance. E stood for east and W stood for west. We were given a small disc looped on a sturdy string, brown with black lettering. I only learned about last names when I went to school in Toronto in the early 1960s. My foster parents let me use their family name, so in Toronto I went by Annie Cotterill — E7-121 was not a very attractive name for a young girl! And when I came back home, I certainly did not want to be Miss E7-121 as a secretary in a government office, so I took my father's first name, Meekitjuk, as a surname.
I was not alone in disliking the number system. By the late 1960s, Simonie Michael, our first elected Inuk member of the Northwest Territories legislative assembly, stated that he no longer wanted to be known by his E7- number. Thus, Project Surname was created. Abe Okpik, a respected Inuk from the western Arctic, headed the project. Between 1968 and 1970, Abe visited every Inuit home and asked the families to choose a name. The head of the family picked a surname — often a relative's given name — and we were no longer known by numbers.
Place names, just like our own traditional names, are indigenous and meaningful. Kimmirut, or "heel," for the shape of a rock outcropping there, the community I am from, has always been Kimmirut. Until just a short time ago, however, it usually appeared as Lake Harbour on maps. Initiatives like the South Baffin Place Names Project are slowly returning Nunavut's communities to their names of old: Frobisher Bay officially became Iqaluit ("school of fish") in 1987, and in November 1998, Broughton Island became Qikiqtarjuaq ("big island").
But most importantly, there is the word nunavut. Now the same word, meaning our homeland, is being capitalized as Nunavut, to become a place name, a new inuksuk (directional beacon) for the world to see, and for us to share and to pass on to our children. What joy!
he technical translation of nunavut is simply "our land." The emotional, spiritual, deeper meaning of nunavut or nunavun is "our homeland." The unspoken meaning stresses "home." To some Inuit, with deeper knowledge of the language, when nunavut is spoken, the silent understanding means "we share in this together, unconditionally," and there is an intense gratitude.We have gone through a lot in a short time. Among those who have left their mark on us are whalers, Christian ministers, traders, police, teachers, scientists, and southern politicians. Some of these people had good intentions, and our ancestors welcomed them because tradition and belief ruled them with good manners, kindness, and curiosity. Inuit today inherited both the good and bad effects of these influences.
I grew up knowing myself as an Inuk — simply translated, a human, breathing being. Later, I learned I was called an Eskimo . I never identified the word Eskimo as an insult. In fact, when I was travelling outside of Nunavut I would voluntarily and proudly offer the information, "I am an Eskimo." Today, I am back to Inuk.
Traditionally, it was up to elders to name babies after relatives or favorite people, and many given names had long been used — names like Aniqmiuq, Annogakuluuk, Annogaq, Arnaquq, Kimalu, Aitii, Maatu, Quvianatukuluk, Makivik, Yutai, Aiuula, Suu, Yugayugausiq, Arnaguatsaaq, Angusimaajuq, Qiilabaq, Nuiijaut, Ikilluaq, and thousands more. When the missionaries came, some could not pronounce these ancient names properly. They gave our people names from the Bible — Joanasie, from John, Jamiesie (James), Olutie (Ruth), Miali (Mary), Salamonie (Solomon), Noah, Jonah, Ipeelie (Abel), Ilisapie (Elizabeth), and so on. Among ourselves, we always used our ancient names. So when I was baptized, I became Annie, but to my parents and elders, I was Lutaaq, Pilitaq, Palluq, or Inusiq.
To the Canadian government, however, I was Annie E7-121! In the early 1940s, Inuit had to be counted and identified for government records so that our parents or guardians could receive family allowance. E stood for east and W stood for west. We were given a small disc looped on a sturdy string, brown with black lettering. I only learned about last names when I went to school in Toronto in the early 1960s. My foster parents let me use their family name, so in Toronto I went by Annie Cotterill — E7-121 was not a very attractive name for a young girl! And when I came back home, I certainly did not want to be Miss E7-121 as a secretary in a government office, so I took my father's first name, Meekitjuk, as a surname.
I was not alone in disliking the number system. By the late 1960s, Simonie Michael, our first elected Inuk member of the Northwest Territories legislative assembly, stated that he no longer wanted to be known by his E7- number. Thus, Project Surname was created. Abe Okpik, a respected Inuk from the western Arctic, headed the project. Between 1968 and 1970, Abe visited every Inuit home and asked the families to choose a name. The head of the family picked a surname — often a relative's given name — and we were no longer known by numbers.
Place names, just like our own traditional names, are indigenous and meaningful. Kimmirut, or "heel," for the shape of a rock outcropping there, the community I am from, has always been Kimmirut. Until just a short time ago, however, it usually appeared as Lake Harbour on maps. Initiatives like the South Baffin Place Names Project are slowly returning Nunavut's communities to their names of old: Frobisher Bay officially became Iqaluit ("school of fish") in 1987, and in November 1998, Broughton Island became Qikiqtarjuaq ("big island").
But most importantly, there is the word nunavut. Now the same word, meaning our homeland, is being capitalized as Nunavut, to become a place name, a new inuksuk (directional beacon) for the world to see, and for us to share and to pass on to our children. What joy!
Friday, September 16, 2011
A post from a Maori sister - thank you
Firstly, thankyou so much for initiating a format to articulate the consequences of the theft of our birthright names and the power in reclaiming what was wrongfully taken.
In English so you can understand:
My tribe is Ngati Whatua
My sub-tribe is Te Uro O Hau
My canoe which bought my ancestors here is Mahuhu
My mountain that I identify as mine is
My ocean that I identify as mine is the Kaipara
My river that I identify as mine is the Wairoa
My ancestoral house is Waikaretu
It is situated at Pouto
My Grandfather's name is Michael Piripi Ariki Dindi Ihimaera
My name is Sonya Lynnette Theresa Ihimaera-Hertig
As a result of the "registering of natives" which took place back in the 1800's, colonialists took the opportunity to "europeanise" many Maori names. The powers of the day decided the Ihimaera was too hard to spell/pronounce so they took Piripi and felt it could easily be changed to Phillips. My Grandfather and his brothers and sisters, then my father and his sisters, then me and my sisters, lived our lives under the surname of Phillips. That name is on my Grandfather's headstone!
My Grandfather passed away when I was in my late 30's. As well as grieving him, I grieved that the loss of his birthright name was there engraved for the world to see. As a result of working through my this, I considered the resurrection of Ihimaera, our identification. After speaking to my elders, they gave me permission to change my name. Although this doesn't right the wrong, it is empowering and it's a start for me and future generatiions.
Although treaty issues are addressed now and reconciliation is beginning, the theft of name/identification is still a painful issue.
Recently a N.Z soldier who fought in the Maori Battalion wanted to travel to Italy for memorial day, to honour his fallen brothers. This was the first time he had to organise an international passport. Consequently it was the first time he had to source a copy of his birth certificate. He wished to have his passport worded in his birth name. He was denied and had to stay with his "given" registered name. At 79, he still had to live with the sting of the past.
Very sad and inconceivable that we still don't get it right!
Sonya Ihimaera-Hertig
In English so you can understand:
My tribe is Ngati Whatua
My sub-tribe is Te Uro O Hau
My canoe which bought my ancestors here is Mahuhu
My mountain that I identify as mine is
My ocean that I identify as mine is the Kaipara
My river that I identify as mine is the Wairoa
My ancestoral house is Waikaretu
It is situated at Pouto
My Grandfather's name is Michael Piripi Ariki Dindi Ihimaera
My name is Sonya Lynnette Theresa Ihimaera-Hertig
As a result of the "registering of natives" which took place back in the 1800's, colonialists took the opportunity to "europeanise" many Maori names. The powers of the day decided the Ihimaera was too hard to spell/pronounce so they took Piripi and felt it could easily be changed to Phillips. My Grandfather and his brothers and sisters, then my father and his sisters, then me and my sisters, lived our lives under the surname of Phillips. That name is on my Grandfather's headstone!
My Grandfather passed away when I was in my late 30's. As well as grieving him, I grieved that the loss of his birthright name was there engraved for the world to see. As a result of working through my this, I considered the resurrection of Ihimaera, our identification. After speaking to my elders, they gave me permission to change my name. Although this doesn't right the wrong, it is empowering and it's a start for me and future generatiions.
Although treaty issues are addressed now and reconciliation is beginning, the theft of name/identification is still a painful issue.
Recently a N.Z soldier who fought in the Maori Battalion wanted to travel to Italy for memorial day, to honour his fallen brothers. This was the first time he had to organise an international passport. Consequently it was the first time he had to source a copy of his birth certificate. He wished to have his passport worded in his birth name. He was denied and had to stay with his "given" registered name. At 79, he still had to live with the sting of the past.
Very sad and inconceivable that we still don't get it right!
Sonya Ihimaera-Hertig
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
A story from a wonderful Dané (Navajo ) woman. Many thanks
"Here in the Southwest and throughout Native America, Native peoples are reclaiming their traditional languages. They are unraveling the influences of colonialism by remembering and speaking. One of the most fundamental parts of this process is knowing who you are as an individual, where you are from, your families and ancestries, all while sharing this through personal introductions in one's language. This allows others to know how you fit within the ideological universe(s) you belong to. "Identity" is a fundamental aspect of one's life in which colonial agents attack and aim to detach from the human spirit subject. This weekend I endured a three in a half, very painful, session upon which I received my first tattoo -with imagery indicative of where I am from and what I believe defines me. Underneath this is my grandmother's traditional name, which directly ties into the imagery above. Quite literally, I now have these very powerful influences "watching my back" and the love of my life, my grandmother, has her name engraved in my flesh for eternity. Someday my children and grandchildren will look at this tattoo and want to know her story. I will tell them, and it will be memorable and meaningful to them as to who this woman is in our family, and they will remember her traditional name. This is a very special thing to me."
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