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Producing materials, places and identities : a study of encounters in the Alberni Valley Green, Denise Nicole 2014

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   P roducing Materials ,  P laces  and Identities :  A Study of Encounters  in the Alberni Valley    by    DENISE NICOLE GREEN  B.Sc., Cornell University, 2007 M.Sc., University of California—Davis, 2009   A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF  THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF     DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY  in    THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES     (Anthropology)    THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA      (Vancouver)     April 2014     © Denise Nicole Green, 2014  ! ii!Abstract   This dissertation explores how Nuuchaanulth people living in Port Alberni, British Columbia articulate their sense of place and belonging in the Alberni Valley through tuupatii (ceremonial rights and privileges), genealogies, histories, material culture, and everyday engagement with the landscape.  Port Alberni is a small town located in the Alberni Valley, a region rich in resources at the head of Barkley Sound on the Western coast of Vancouver Island. The Valley has been home to the Huupach’esat-h= for thousands of years, but in the last 200 years has become a coming-together-place for Nuuchaanulth people more generally.  As such, I explore how Nuuchaanulth people produce places within the Valley, engage with the h=aah=uulthii (traditional chiefly territories) of the Huupach’esat-h= First Nation, and experience ongoing colonialism. I examine how places are produced through encounters between peoples, histories, memories, supernatural phenomena, material artifacts, ceremonies, and forms of cultural knowledge.  I develop the concept of encounter to interpret how places are produced through frictional interfaces.  Drawing upon four-and-a-half years of ethnographic research, I have found that cultural practices, such as potlatching, addressing grief, knowing genealogies, and participating in oral traditions, have strengthened Nuuchaanulth communities in the Valley amidst entrenched capitalism and ongoing colonialism.  I begin by using the concept of encounter to illustrate histories on the Westcoast generally, and the Alberni Valley more specifically. Next, I focus on particular encounters between families of the Huupach’esat-h=, Hikuulthat-h=, and Nash’asat-h= to connect genealogies to production of knowledge and place. In the last three chapters, I use different cultural forms (e.g., dress, weaving, and ceremonial curtains) to illustrate how bodies and materials work together to produce understandings of place.  My ! iii!intention is to give a sense of the contemporary situation facing Huupach’esat-h= people, who live amidst histories, animate materials, and ongoing colonialism in the Valley.! iv! P reface   I began research for this dissertation in November of 2009, the first semester of my Ph.D. studies at the University of British Columbia. My research topic was collaboratively developed, between myself and the Nuuchaanulth people who supported my first research endeavor on Vancouver Island’s Western coast: an ethnographic film about Nuuchaanulth First Nations’ ceremonial curtains (see Green and Chuuchk=amalthnii 2010).  During a community feast I held in January 2010 to screen the rough cut of this documentary film, I began a public discussion of my Ph.D. studies with the 50 Nuuchaanulth people in attendance.  I shared ideas that interested me and they expressed opinions about what research was most needed in their communities.  The conversation did not stop here, but continued as I developed my research proposal and advanced to candidacy.  I arrived at Tl’ikuulth, a Huupach’esat-h= village site, in September of 2011 to begin a year of formal ethnographic research.  I have augmented my ethnography with research in museums, archives, and libraries.  Following my fieldwork, I transcribed audio- and video-recorded interviews and began to look for patterns in my data.  The first iteration of this dissertation was completed in August of 2013.  In addition to comments from my committee, I have also shared drafts with the Nuuchaanulth people who have informed this research.  What I present in the pages to follow is an interpretive analysis of my ethnographic and archival research.  This research was approved University of British Columbia’s Behavioural Research Ethics Board.  Certificates: H06-80199 ANTH 534/532: Student Research (Principal Investigator: Dr. Charles Menzies); H10-01214 Nuu-chah-nulth Basket Weaving (Principal Investigator: Dr. Charles Menzies); and H09-03030 Nuu-chah-nulth Textiles and Ceremonial Regalia (Principal Investigator: Dr. Charles Menzies).   Thus far, two publications have arisen from this dissertation. A portion of Chapter Six, H=uulthin (Ceremonial Shawls): Historical and Contemporary Practices:  Green, Denise Nicole 2013  Nuu-chah-nulth First Nations’ Huulthin (Shawls): Historical and Contemporary Practices / Stella Blum Grant Report. Dress: Journal of the Costume Society of America 39(2):153 - 201.  A portion of Chapter Seven, Producing Senses of Place Through Mamuu (Weaving):  Green, Denise Nicole 2011 Mamuu—La Pratique du Tissage / Mamuu—The Practice of Weaving.  Cahiers métiers d'art / Craft Journal 5(1):37 - 59.   A film was produced based on the research for Chapter Eight, Producing Place, Declaring Rights: Thliitsapilthim (Ceremonial Curtains):  ! v!Green, Denise Nicole and Chuuchk=amalthnii 2010 Histak=shitl Ts’awaatskwii (We Come From One Root). 67-minute ethnographic film. Vancouver, BC: Ethnographic Film Unit and the Belkin Art Gallery at the University of British Columbia.  A film was produced based on the research for Chapter Seven, Producing Senses of Place Through Mamuu (Weaving):  Green, Denise Nicole 2013 Mamuu: To Weave/To Work, 22-minute ethnographic film. Vancouver, BC: Ethnographic Film Unit at the University of British Columbia.   ! vi!Table of Contents   Abstract......................................................................................................................................ii Preface.......................................................................................................................................iv Table of Contents ......................................................................................................................vi List of Figures ..........................................................................................................................vii Glossary ..................................................................................................................................xiii Acknowledgements ..................................................................................................................xv Chapter 1: Introduction...............................................................................................................1 1.1 Orientation: Genealogies, Language, Place and Belonging...............................................6 1.2 Theoretical Orientation ...................................................................................................11 1.3 Methodology and Being in Place....................................................................................19 1.4 Chapter Organization......................................................................................................27 Chapter 2: Encounters on the Westcoast...................................................................................31 2.1 Producing Places and Histories ......................................................................................34 2.2 Being in Place and Encountering Ethnographic Practice.................................................36 2.3 Before Human Encounter ...............................................................................................42 2.4 Producing Place Through Supernatural Encounter .........................................................45 2.5 Early Colonial Encounters with Maatmalthnii ................................................................50 2.6 H=aah=uulthii in the Valley ................................................................................................61 2.7 New Economies, New Settlements.................................................................................70 2.8 Anthropologists in the Valley.........................................................................................86 2.9 Conclusion .....................................................................................................................92 Chapter 3: Genealogies of Knowledge.....................................................................................94 3.1 Genealogy, Biography, and Networks of Relations .......................................................96 3.2 Genealogy and Status ...................................................................................................100 3.3 Two Uushtak=yuu in the Valley.....................................................................................102 3.4 T’it’e-in has a Spiritual Encounter at Hat’a...................................................................105 3.5 Tl’ikuulthat-h= Family Histories ....................................................................................110 3.6 Hiikuulthat-h= Family Histories .....................................................................................122 3.7 Conclusion ...................................................................................................................130 Chapter 4: The Productive Nature of Grief and Loss .............................................................132 4.1 Place, Death, and Protocols for Grieving .....................................................................133 4.2 Chiefly Lines of the Huupach’esat-h: Interpreted through the “loss” of a pair of  hinkiitsim....................................................................................................................140 4.3 Disagreement about Huupachesat-h Chiefly Lines, as illustrated by a pair of  hinkiitsim....................................................................................................................156 4.4 Producing Relationships and Place Through Tension, Conflict, Grief, and Loss .........166 Chapter 5: Potlatch as Place-Making......................................................................................177 5.1 N’uushitl (Potlatch) and Yax=malthit (Cleansing Potlatch) ............................................178 5.2 From Tom Sayach’apis to Walter Thomas Sayach’apis ...............................................181 5.3 Walter Thomas Sayach’apis has a Supernatural Encounter ..........................................192 5.4 The Location of Walter Sayach’apis’s Yax=malthit........................................................197 5.5 Sayach’apis Walter Thomas Yax=malthit .......................................................................201 5.6 Conclusion ...................................................................................................................212 ! vii!Chapter 6: H=uulthin (Ceremonial Shawls): Historical and Contemporary Practices ...............213 6.1 Chameh=ta K=uu-as: Deep Histories ...............................................................................217 6.2 Early Encounters ..........................................................................................................221 6.3 From Exchange to Industrial Economies: Dress in Transition......................................230 6.4 Collecting Cultures: Natural History Collections and The Museums Movement .........239 6.5 Contemporary H=uulthin................................................................................................270 Chapter 7: Producing Senses of Place Through Mamuu (Weaving) ......................................291 7.1 Sah=as – Pulling Cedar Bark..........................................................................................293 7.2 Encounters in the Bush.................................................................................................297 7.3 Producing Weavings, Producing Biographies ..............................................................300 7.4 Weaving Economies .....................................................................................................304 7.5 Weaving Design...........................................................................................................308 Chapter 8: Producing Place, Declaring Rights: Thliitsapilthim (ceremonial curtains) .............318 8.1 Kitsak=suu-ilthim: A Tl’ikuulthat-h= Case Study ............................................................323 8.2 From K=itsak=suu-ilthim to Thliitsapilthim......................................................................333 8.3 Women and Thliitsapilthim...........................................................................................341 8.4 Movement of Thliitsapilthim ........................................................................................353 8.5 Conclusion ...................................................................................................................372 Chapter 9: Conclusion............................................................................................................376 Bibliography...........................................................................................................................382 ! viii!Lis t of F igures   Figure 1.1 Map of the Alberni Valley. Map by Google, 2012 ...................................................2 Figure 1.2  Map of Vancouver Island with Nuuchaanulth tribal territories. Map from  Backstory (2010), courtesy of the Belkin Art Gallery ....................................................3 Figure 1.3 Map indicating Westcoast h=aah=uulthii (chiefly territories) of Nuuchaanulth  tribes.  Map by Jo Moore, from Golla 1987...................................................................4 Figure 1.4 Chuuchk=amalthnii at Tl’ikuulth, Fall 2011.  Photo by author....................................5  Figure 1.5 Saantuu at Tl’ikuulth, Spring 2012. Photo by author ................................................6 Figure 1.6 Hupacasath First Nation private property sign, May 2012. Photo by author ..........14 Figure 1.7 Fisheries officers policing Tl’ikuulth, May 2012. Photo by author.........................16 Figure 1.8 Chuuchk=amalthnii at Huupach’esat-h= petroglyph wall, Nov. 2009. Video  still by author................................................................................................................17 Figure 1.9 Port Alberni at dusk in December 2009. Video still by author................................18 Figure 1.10 View of Aa-ukw Tl’ikuulth (Sproat Lake). Photo by author ................................20 Figure 1.11 Nasquu-isaqs and author at H==etspik=uulth Photo courtesy of Saantuu...................21 Figure 1.12 Saantuu, Chuuchk=amalthnii and Chico at Tl’ikuulth, Fall 2011.  Photo by  author ...........................................................................................................................25 Figure 3.1 Punii-ii circa 1900. Photo courtesy of the Alberni Valley Museum, PN03114.....103 Figure 3.2 Dominion Day parade, circa 1929. Photo courtesy of the Alberni Valley  Museum, PN01873....................................................................................................105 Figure 3.3 Hat’a (Beauford Picnic Site), October 2011. Photo by author ..............................106 Figure 3.4 Hamilton George. Photo courtesy of Thotiismay’ak (April Thomas) ...................115 Figure 3.5 Lilly “Girly” Hamilton (née Haslam). Photo courtesy of Thlotiismay’ak  (April Thomas)...........................................................................................................115 Figure 3.6 Clifford Hamilton (far right), sitting with relatives and friends on the rail of  “Orange Bridge” in 1928. Photograph by Ketha Adams, courtesy of the Alberni  Valley Museum, PN10466.........................................................................................121 Figure 3.8 Canoe at Tiipis (Polly’s Point) in the early 20th century.  Photo courtesy of   the Alberni Valley Museum, PN01714......................................................................126 Figure 3.9 Maggie Lauder with daughter, Helen Simpson, and mother, Punii-ii. Photo  courtesy of the Alberni Valley Museum, PN01705 ...................................................127 Figure 3.10 Maggie Lauder seated with her three eldest children, circa 1910. Photo  courtesy of the Alberni Valley Museum PN04230 ....................................................130  Figure 4.1 Nessie Lauder with mother, Maggie Lauder, circa 1922.  Photo courtesy of  the Alberni Valley Museum PN04231.......................................................................140 Figure 4.2 Photograph that sold as part of Lot #699, depicting the pair of hinkiitsim  brought as Annie Tlewitua’s thluuch-hamis ...............................................................141 Figure 4.3 Female hinkiitsim brought with Annie Tlewitua when she married Dan Watts  in the first decade of the 20th century. Seattle Art Museum, 91.1.25 ..........................142 Figure 4.4 Male hinkiitsim, mate to the female in Figure 4.3..................................................142 Figure 4.5 Hinkiitsim beaded bracelet. Design by Chuuchk=amalthnii, beaded by Yah=miss.  Photo courtesy of Yah=miss ........................................................................................143 Figure 4.6. Dan Watts (center, back row, 7th from left) in Gill School class photo. Photo  courtesy of Alberni Valley Museum PN06629..........................................................147 ! ix!Figure 4.7 Douglas Thomas drums and T’it’e-in sings as hinkiitsim are used as  entertainment at a Dominion Day gathering circa 1929. Photo courtesy of  Alberni Valley Museum, PN01896............................................................................152 Figure 4.8 Hinkiitsim used as entertainment, Dominion Day circa 1929. Photo courtesy  of the Alberni Valley Museum, PN01885..................................................................152 Figure 4.9. Annie Watts shows a group of young Nuuchaanulth girls how to dance  hinkiits in 1951. Photo by Wilson Duff, courtesy of Chuuchk=amalthnii....................158 Figure 4.10 Hinkiitsim that belonged to T’it’e-in ...................................................................159 Figure 4.11 Saantuu mountain biking at Tl’ikuulth, Spring 2012. Photo by author ...............167 Figure 4.12 Karen Johnson, with oldest son, Kwiispiisiis, circa 1971. Photo courtesy of Thlotiismay’ak (April Thomas) ..................................................................................167 Figure 4.13 Saantuu with father, Chuuchk=amalthnii at a potlatch, circa 1987. Photo  courtesy of Chuuchk=amalthnii....................................................................................168 Figure 4.14 Chuuchk=amalthnii, Saantuu and Chico, November 2013. Photo by author.........173 Figure 4.15 Saantuu and Chuuchk=amalthnii, May 2012. Polaroid photo by author ...............175 Figure 4.16 Chuuchk=amalthnii and Saantuu, June 2013. Photo by author .............................176 Figure 5.1. Cover of 11 February 2010 Ha-Shilth-Sa newspaper ..........................................182 Figure 5.2 Walter’s thliitsapilthim on display at Feb. 2010 Yax=malthit. Photo by author.......204  Figure 6.1 Kyuquot woman with her sequined shawl at Houpsitas, August 2010. Photo  by author ....................................................................................................................214 Figure 6.2 Painted shawl, Nootka Sound, March-April, 1778. The British Museum,  Am NWC.53. Photo by author...................................................................................215 Figure 6.3 Conical hat, Nootka Sound, 1794. Cedar bark, spruce root, sea grass, woven  to depict a whaling scene. Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of the  American Indian. Photo by author..............................................................................223 Figure 6.4 Sah=as (pulling cedar bark), May 2010. Video still by author ................................224 Figure 6.5 Woman’s shawl, Nootka Sound, March-April, 1778. The British Museum,  Am, NWC.50. Photo by author..................................................................................226 Figure 6.6 J. G. de St. Sauveur, Fille de Nootka (Daughter of Nootka), 1795. Library and Archives Canada/Canadian Historical Prints Collection, e010977235 .......................227  Figure 6.7 John Webber, Portrait of a Woman of Nootka Sound, 1778. Courtesy of  Wisconsin Historical Society, 23959..........................................................................228 Figure 6.8 H=uulthin, Barkley Sound (Huupach’esat-h=), 1882. Staatliche Museen zu  Berlin, Ethnologisches Museum, IV A 1157. Photo by author ..................................240 Figure 6.9 Partially completed shawl of trade materials, 1882. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin,  Ethnologisches Museum, IV A 2074a. Photo by author ............................................241 Figure 6.10 Partially completed shawl of local materials. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin,  Ethnologisches Museum, IV A 1160ab. Photo by author ..........................................241 Figure 6.11 H=uulthin, Barkley Sound, 1882. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches  Museum, IV A 1138. Photo by author.......................................................................241 Figure 6.12 Detail shot of wrapped twining. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches  Museum, IV A 1138. Photo by author.......................................................................242 Figure 6.13 H=uulthin embellished with blanket strips, 1882. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin,  Ethnologisches Museum, IV A 1153. Photo by author..............................................243 Figure 6.14 H=uulthin made entirely of blanket strips, 1882. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin,  Ethnologisches Museum, IV A 2074e. Photo by author ............................................243 ! x!Figure 6.15 H=uulthin of wool yarns, Nootka Sound, 1882. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches Museum, IV A 1154. Photo by author..............................................245 Figure 6.16 H=uulthin of wool yarns, 1882. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches  Museum, IV A 2074c. Photo by author .....................................................................245 Figure 6.17 Cedar bark h=uulthin, 1882. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches  Museum, IV A 2073e. Photo by author .....................................................................246 Figure 6.18 Detail of mantle neckline, 1882. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches  Museum, IV A 1146. Photo by author.......................................................................247 Figure 6.19 Detail of human hair in mantle neckline, 1882. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin,  Ethnologisches Museum, IV A 2242. Photo by author..............................................250 Figure 6.20 Dr. Atleo (Atliiyuu), Painted shawl, Tla-o-qui-aht, 1882. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches Museum, IV A 7156. Photo courtesy of Rainer Hatoum ......252 Figure 6.21. Dr. Atleo (Atliiyuu), Painted shawl, Tla-o-qui-aht, 1903. Collected by C. F.  Newcombe. Courtesy of The Field Museum, 85897/CSA17043...............................253 Figure 6.22 Man wearing h=uulthin painted by Dr. Atleo, 1904. Courtesy of The Field  Museum, CSA13585. Photograph by Charles Carpenter...........................................254 Figure 6.23 Red wool embroidered cape on wrapped twining base. Peabody Essex  Museum, E28548.  Photo by author...........................................................................256 Figure 6.24 Red ochre and charcoal on elk hide. Karl-May-Museum Radebeul near  Dresden, 084. Photo by author...................................................................................258 Figure 6.25 Painted h=uulthin, Barkley Sound, British Columbia, circa 1882. Collected by  Dr. Franz Boas. American Museum of Natural History, 16/787. Photo by author ....259 Figure 6.26 Coming-of-age h=uulthin, 1902. Collected by Captain Dorr F. Tozier and  purchased by George G. Heye. Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum  of the American Indian, 069293. Photo by author......................................................261 Figure 6.27. Painted h=uulthin, Nootka Sound, 1923. Collected by Lieutenant G. T.  Emmons. Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of the American Indian,  133962. Photo by author ............................................................................................264 Figure 6.28 Painted h=uulthin, museum purchase, 1916. National Museum of the  American Indian, Smithsonian Institution, 050107. Photo by author .........................265 Figure 6.29. Makah dancers, Neah Bay, Washington, 1926. Bureau of American  Ethnology Bulletin #124 (1939), plate 124. Photo by Frances Densmore..................266 Figure 6.30 Charles Swan in painted dance shawl, Neah Bay, Washington, 1923. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin #124 (1939), plate 4. Photo by Frances Densmore .....267 Figure 6.31. Nuuchaanulth dancers in black shawls, Port Alberni, British Columbia, circa  1940 - 1955. Photo courtesy of The Alberni Valley Museum, PN07333 ..................269 Figure 6.32 Detail of tiitskin (thunderbird) motif, in center of polyester dance shawl, Port  Alberni, British Columbia, circa 1970s. Cornell Costume and Textile Collection,  2010.40.09. Photo by Helen McLallen.......................................................................272 Figure 6.33 Huupach’esat-h= women practice with dance shawls, March 2012. Video still  by author ....................................................................................................................275 Figure 6.34 Huupach’esat-h= shawl-maker, Susan Lauder, Oct. 2011. Photo by author .........276 Figure 6.35 Huupach’esat-h= Hakuum (Queen) and highly respected shawl-maker,  Colleen Watts, Oct. 2011. Photo by author ................................................................276 Figure 6.36 Nasquu-isaqs sews glass seed beads onto her sister’s h=uulthin, June 2011.  Photo by author ..........................................................................................................277 ! xi!Figure 6.37 Miranda Lauder receives her first h=uulthin, Oct. 2011. Photo by author.............279 Figure 6.38 Miranda Lauder’s h=uulthin. Photo by author ......................................................280 Figure 6.40 Nasquu-isaqs dances at her potlatch. Photo courtesy of Naasquu-isaqs .............282 Figure 6.41 Dancers wear matching white h=uulthin, Nov. 1983. Photo courtesy of Chuuchk=amalthnii.......................................................................................................287 Figure 6.42 Women from Sayach’apis’s family dance in matching shawls, Feb. 2010.  Photo by author ..........................................................................................................288 Figure 7.1 A view of clear-cuts on Kalthk=achulth, May 2010. Video still by author .............294 Figure 7.2 Basketry materials. Photo by author......................................................................301 Figure 7.3 Whale pendant woven by Julie Joseph, July 2010.  Video still by author.............303 Figure 7.4 Sit’yak, used to evenly cut grass. Photo by author................................................306 Figure 7.5 Lena Jumbo works on a grass basket at Muk=tuusiis, Aug. 2010. Photo by  author .........................................................................................................................306 Figure 7.6 Basket made by Rose Cootes, and used by her Great-Granddaughter, Yah=miss,  in beaded bracelet designs (see Figure 7.7). Photo courtesy of Yah=miss ...................310 Figure 7.7 Thunderbird beaded bracelet made by Yah=miss with design from a basket by  Rose Cootes (see Figure 7.6). Photo courtesy of Yah=miss ........................................311 Figure 7.8 Pattern basket by Ella Jackson. Video still by author ............................................312  Figure 8.1 Wolf thliitsapilthim, American Museum of Natural History, 16/9417. Photo courtesy of the Belkin Art Gallery..............................................................................320  Figure 8.2 Single-family shanty home at Tiipis (Polly’s Point).  Photo courtesy of the  Alberni Valley Museum, PN01709............................................................................326  Figure 8.3 Last remaining kitsak=suu-ilthim in a Huupach’esat-h= big house. Photo courtesy  of Chuuchk=amalthnii ..................................................................................................327 Figure 8.4 Chuuchk=amalthnii points to T’it’e-in’s signature on the top of his Great- Grandfather’s k=itsak=suu-ilthim at the American Museum of Natural History, June 2010. Photo by author ................................................................................................331 Figure 8.5 Nasquu-isaqs’s thliitsapilthim. Painted by Chuuchk=amalthnii. Photo courtesy  of Nasquu-isaqs and the Belkin Art Gallery...............................................................340 Figure 8.6 Chii-ilthimk=amako-a’s aaytsaksuu-ilthim. Painted by Chuuchk=amalthnii. Photo courtesy of Chii-ilthimk=amako-a and the Belkin Art Gallery......................................343 Figure 8.7 Effie Tate’s thliitsapilthim. Estate of George Terasaki. Photo courtesy of the  Belkin Art Gallery ......................................................................................................345 Figure 8.8 Asmanah=ey thliitsapilthim. Painted by Chuuchk=amalthnii.  Photo courtesy of  Chuuchk=amalthnii and the Belkin Art Galley .............................................................347 Figure 8.9 Original Asmanah=ey thliitsapilthim in use at a potlatch sometime in the late  1970s. Photo courtesy of Chuuchk=amalthnii..............................................................351  Figure 8.10 Original Asmanah=ey thliitsapilthim with Elizabeth (Lizzy) Gallic seated in  center with drum, circa 1977. Photo courtesy of Chuuchk=amalthnii...........................352 Figure 8.11 Thliitsapilthim that belonged to Tyee Bob, predecessor of Dan Watts.  Painted  by Tomiish. Photo courtesy of Chuuchk=amalthnii......................................................355 Figure 8.12 Repatriation of Helen Rush’s aaytsaksuu-ilthim from private collector, George  Terasaki.  Painted by Tomiish. Photo courtesy of Chuuchk=amalthnii.........................357  Figure 8.13 Thliitsapilthim that belonged to Nina Jack, now rightfully owned by  N’aasiismis, Tayii Ha’wilth of the Huu-ey-at-h=. Estate of George Terasaki.  Photo courtesy of N’aasiismis and the Belkin Art Gallery .........................................359 ! xii!Figure 8.14 Elizabeth Tate’s thliitsapilthim, sold by her widower to Howard Roloff, and  eventually to the Menil Collection in Houston, TX. Painted by Chalatas of  Niitiinat-h=. Photo by author ........................................................................................362  Figure 8.15. Webster Thompson’s thliitsapilthim, sold to Roloff and now in the Canadian  Museum of Civilization. Photo courtesy of Bukwiila and Chuuchk=amalthnii ............364  Figure 8.16 Thliitsapilthim that was repatriated to Stan Chester of Niitiinat-h=. Formerly in  private collection of George Terasaki. Photo courtesy of Chuuchk=amalthnii..............368 Figure 8.17 Thliitsapilthim (likely an aaytsaksuu-ilthim) that belonged to Effie Tate of  Niitiinat-h=. Estate of George Terasaki. Photo courtesy of Chuuchk=amalthnii.............368   Figure 8.18. Chuuchk=amalthnii puts the Asmanah=ey thliitsapilthim into the hands of his  niece, Vivian at an Emtnak=shitl hosted by the Tak=iishtakamlthat-h= on 30 August  2012. Photo by author………………………………………………………………374  Figure 8.19 Chuuchk=amalthnii, Kwiispiisiis, Saantuu and Mabel Taylor stand in front of  Asmanah=ey thliitsapilthim, Nov. 1983. Photo courtesy of Chuuchk=amalthnii............374           ! xiii!Glossary   Aa-ukw – Lake Aaytsaksuu-ilthim – girl’s coming of age ceremonial partition Aaytst’uulthaa – Girl’s coming of age potlatch Atik=shitl – Formal public thanks Ch’ih=aa – Supernatural phenomenon Ch’ih=aamis – Spiritual possessions/talismans Chak=waasii – Dorsal fin of a whale Chiichmak=tlskwii – Possessions of the dead Emtii – Name  Emtnak=shitl – Naming potlatch Ha’wiih= – Chiefs (plural) Ha’wilth – Chief (singular) Ha’wilthmis – Chiefly wealth treasures  H=aah=uulthii – Traditional chiefly territories H=aah=uupaa – Teaching   H=aah=uupchuu – Well taught Haatshuulthay’ak – Wealth distribution song Hinkiitsim – Serpent headdress Histak=shitl ts’awaatskwii – We come from one root (phrase) H=uulthin – Dance shawl Huulthlwachitly’ak – Song used at very end of potlatch, “storm blowing up song” K’aayuupiiy’ak – Ceremonial swing Kw’ayatsiik – Wolf  Kah=mis – deathness  Kitsak=suu-ilthim – Cedar board ceremonial partition with crest paintings Kuulth – Slave K=uu-as – Nuuchaanulth people, “real, living, human beings”  Ma-as – Big house Maamaatl’e – Security guards at a potlatch Maatmee-ux – Someone of an elder line Naanii – Grizzly bear Nisma – land  Nuushitl – Potlatch  P’achitl – To give T’ashii – Trail Ta’winisim – The Milky Way Tl’itsuu - Feast Ts’iik=y’ak – Prayer chant Ts’iilthaen – Eagle down Ta-althma – Metaphorical cane  Tayii Ha’wilth – Head Chief Thlaakt’uulthaa – End of grief potlatch Thliitsapilthim – ceremonial cloth partition with crest paintings ! xiv!Thluuch-h=amis – Wedding dowry Tuu-palth – Pacific Ocean Tuupatii – Ceremonial rights and privileges  Ushtak=imlth – House group (family, sept, etc.) Uushtakyuu – Doctor  Uusimch – Ritual bathing Wiih=mapt – Spruce  Yax=malthit – Cleansing potlatch !! xv!Acknowledgements    First and foremost, I extend my deepest gratitude to the Nuuchaanulth people who have welcomed me into their lives, fed me amazing meals, and taught me what I have shared in this dissertation.  In particular, I would like to thank Chuuchk=amalthnii, Saantuu, Kwiispiisiis, Nasquu-isaqs, Chii-ilthimikamako-a, Thlotiismay’ak, Buukwiilla, Randi-Leigh MacNutt, Ida Mabel Thompson, Thapkiitap, Lily Charlong-Vissia, Sandra Vissia, Sharon Van Volsen, Wiih=swih=s-sunup, the late Colleen Watts, Yah=miss, Ha’weh=tuu-is, Hilda Nookemis, Na’siismis, Simon Marshall, Susan Lauder, Martin MacNutt, Ness Charlong-Vissia, Pat Lauder, Sherman Lauder, Mike Porter, Brenda Sayers, Slade Charlong-Vissia, Pam Watts, Sayach’apis, the late Eileen Haggard, Lindsey Haggard, Ted Haggard, Darleen Watts, Yaalthuu-a, Deborah Cook, Jack Cook, Therese Smith, Tara Hansen, Hilda Hansen, and Rudy Watts.  The ancestors of these people deserve much thanks as well.  Uushii-ekshikleytsuu!   I would like to thank my supervisor, Dr. Charles Menzies, and my committee members, Dr. Gastón Gordillo and Dr. Charlotte Townsend-Gault for their support and encouragement. Thank you to Dr. Menzies for unwavering support of my video work. Dr. Gordillo read my work thoroughly and always challenged me through productive exchange. Thank you to Dr. Townsend-Gault for the introduction to Chuuchk=amalthnii. Without the thoughtful critiques and productive questions of my committee members, this thesis would lack depth.    Throughout my research and writing, I have been mentored by faculty and professionals from the University of British Columbia as well as other educational and museum institutions: Susan Kaiser, the late Charlotte Jirousek, Van Dyk Lewis, Julie Wyman, Sally Helvenston Gray, Aaron Glass, Coll Thrush, Jeanie O’Brian, Nancy Parezo, Karen Duffek, Candace Greene, Rainer Hatoum, Jonathan King, Joe Horse Capture, Aldona Jonaitis, Janet Berlo, and Mark Vessey.   I would like to extend a very special thank you to the American Philosophical Society for the François André Michaux Fund Fellowship, which allowed me to spend five weeks examining the research papers of Dr. Susan Golla in the Fall of 2013.  Thank you to Tim Powell, director of Native American Projects, for his unwavering encouragement, and to Brian Carpenter for devoting his time to digitization. Many thanks to the family, friends and colleagues of Susan Golla: Jim Conmy, Cate Conmy, Janet Chernela, Sheila Dauer, Marie Mauzé, and Victor Golla.  This dissertation was made possible by generous funding from a number of institutions.  I am grateful for the following scholarships: a four-year fellowship from the University of British Columbia (2009 – 2013), an international partial tuition scholarship from the University of British Columbia (2009 – 2014), a Vanier Canada Graduate Fellowship from the Canadian Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (2011 – 2014), the R. Howard Webster Foundation Fellowship (2011), and the Michael Ames Scholarship in Museum Studies (2011). Thank you to: Eugene Thaw and the New York State Historical Society for funding my participation in the 2010 Otsego Institute for Native American Art History; the ! xvi!United States National Science Foundation for funding my participation in the Smithsonian Institution’s Summer Institute in Museum Anthropology in 2011; the Newberry Consortium in American Indian Studies for funding a month-long residency at the Newberry Library in 2012; and the Costume Society of America for the Stella Blum Research Grant, which covered expenses for me to travel throughout museums in Europe and North America to examine examples of Nuuchaanulth ceremonial dress.  A Hampton Fund Research Grant from the University of British Columbia (Dr. Charles Menzies, Principal Investigator) provided research funding, which enabled me to travel to museum collections and across the Westcoast to interview Nuuchaanulth weavers.   Many friends in the UBC anthropology department have supported me throughout my research: Hiba Morcos, Mascha Gugganig, Marlee McGuire, Sara Komarnisky, Molly Malone, Chris Arnett, Iain McKechnie, and Lara Rosenoff. A special thank you to my student mentor, Solen Roth.  Jennifer Ayres, Vandana Nagaraj, Kelly Reddy-Best and Sarah McCullough have provided academic support from afar.  Charlotte Parker and Perry Poe provided a home away from home in Davis, California. My dear friends, Janet Buonanno, Anne Kelly Metzger, Allison Conti, Brianne Mintern, Juan Flores, JoJo Robbins, Denise McCummings, Stefanie Schoen, Lotus Dove, Lopaka Barrett, Sarah Zanoff, Jamie Tatar, Karen Parker and Greg Parker have provided much love and encouragement.  I am especially grateful to Bikram Choudhury, and his late Guru, Bishnu Ghosh, for my hatha yoga practice.  David Corson, Jasmine Nash, Marcia Biasi-Folkertsma, Scott Erickson, Aimee Campbell-Lloyd, McKell Lasrich, Christian Betancor-Leon, Leo Eisenstein, Courtney Cherry, Joel Pier, JoJo Faso, Meg Latanzio, Lisa Beaudry, Thayne Dibble, Ann Marie Paul, Louis Landsman, Leslie Venti, Justin Riley, Daphne Grabowski and Gabriel Shamash all deserve much thanks for their guidance as my teachers and friends. Practicing hatha yoga has been an important part of achieving the kind of mental clarity necessary to execute my research and write this dissertation. Thank you to Joel Pier for encouraging me to also practice bhakti yoga, read the Bhagavad-Gita, be happy and chant the Maha Mantra.  My extended family has always supported my academic endeavors.  My late Uncle, Frank Behan, supported me during my undergraduate degree, as did my Grandfather, Edward Green, my Aunt Susan Behan and especially my parents. My parents, Jean and Robert Green, have been unwavering during my decade of undergraduate and graduate schooling. I wrote much of this dissertation, and transcribed many hours of interviews while staying in their home. I am also grateful for the support of my brother, Casey Green, and many cousins and loved ones. My Grandmother, Shirley Outhouse, has always encouraged my many endeavors. Saantuu has been an incredible friend and facilitated much in my life to make this dissertation possible.  My friends, family, peers, teachers and colleagues have showed me love and support, for which I am eternally grateful. ! 1!Chapter 1: Introduction  Within a context of ongoing colonialism, my research focuses on Nuuchaanulthat-h=1 (Nuuchaanulth2 people) living in the Valley3. The Valley (Figure 1.1), rich in resources, is at the head of Barkley Sound on the Westcoast4 of Vancouver Island (see Figures 1.2 and 1.3).  Driving on the TransCanada highway toward the Valley one sees a façade of old-growth forest known locally as “Cathedral Grove” (MacMillan Provincial Park).  Only a couple kilometers away from the road, behind a thin veneer of old growth cedar, hemlock, spruce and fir, are clear-cuts alongside the mountain known to Nuuchaanulth people as K==athk=achulth (Mt. Aerosmith). Driving down the mountain into the Valley, plumes of smoke billow from the pulp mill and the smell of sulfur permeates. “On cloudy days the whole town smells like brussel sprouts,” wrote anthropologist, Susan Golla, to a friend during her first fieldwork trip in May 1976 (APS MS#89, Golla to Joel May 26, 1976).  Today, Visitors are welcomed to the town, Port Alberni, with a sign that reads: “Bear Tracks and Lumberjacks.” No longer sloganeered as “Salmon capital of the world,” the landscape is rife with indicators of industrial !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 Adding the suffix, at-h=, is a way of naming a tribe of people.  At-h= translates in English as, “the people of.”   2 I use Chuuchk=amalthnii’s orthography for all Nuuchaanulth words presented throughout this document; no official orthography exists for Nuuchaanulth dialects. My first weekend on the Westcoast I began writing Nuuchaanulth words in my notebook, with Chuuchk=amalthnii’s transcription.  While I am familiar with other orthographies for Nuuchaanulth, I find am most comfortable with Chuuchk=amalthnii’s system and believe it is the easiest to read.  While language is part of this dissertation, it is not a primary focus so I do not engage in analysis of orthography.  Because I use Chuuchk=amalthnii’s system, some words and names may differ slightly from other publications.  For example, the Hupacasath First Nation uses the spelling Hupacasath, whereas I use the spelling Huupach’esat-h= throughout this text to better reflect correct pronunciation.  For sake of clarity, simplicity, and consistency, I put my spellings in brackets when quoting from other sources that use alternative orthographies.    3 Throughout this text, I use ‘the Valley’ to refer to the Alberni Valley, central Vancouver Island, British Columbia, which is where I conducted most of my ethnographic fieldwork. Local people refer to the Alberni Valley simply as ‘the Valley’; therefore, I choose to use the name that the participants in my research employ to name the place where they are from. 4 Westcoast is capitalized and spelled as one word and refers to a specific regional area: the western coast of Vancouver Island. Nuuchaanulth people often call themselves “Westcoasters,” and Westcoast is used as a proper noun to name Nuuchaanulth territories. As such, I have decided to capitalize and spell Westcoast as one word.!! 2!destruction and loss.  The Huupach’esat-h= and Tseshaat-h=5 First Nations claim the Valley as their territory, but as the largest urban center this far west on Vancouver Island, it has become home to a considerable number of people from other Nuuchaanulth tribes, as well.    Figure 1.1 Map of the Alberni Valley, indicating traditional village sites, Tl’ikuulth, Aswinis, and Tlut-huthltsis.  Today, some Huupach’esat-h= people live at Tl’ikuulth and Aswinis, while Tlut-huthltsis remains unoccupied.  Map by Google, 2014.  Port Alberni is a kind of coming-together place for K=uu-as (Nuuchaanulth people) on the Westcoast.  As such, I explore how Nuuchaanulth people produce places within the Valley, engage with the h=aah=uulthii (traditional chiefly territories) of the Huupach’esat-h= First Nation, and experience ongoing colonialism. I examine how places are produced through encounters between peoples, histories, memories, supernatural phenomena, material artifacts, ceremonies, and forms of cultural knowledge.  These encounters shape perceptions of space and of belonging to particular places.  Woven throughout this text is the concept of grief, which I use !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!5 The Tseshaht migrated from the Broken Group Island to the Alberni Valley around 1790.  This is discussed further in Chapters two and three, along with a history of amalgamation (see Boas 1890; Drucker 1951; Sapir and Swadesh 1939).  ! 3!to illustrate tensions between places, histories, and senses of belonging.  Grief may be both productive and destructive, and is institutionalized in Nuuchaanulth social organization through the Thlaakt’uulthaa (End of Grief Potlatch) and protocols for addressing death and loss.  With colonialism came external sources of grief.  Colonialism, and accompanying grief and trauma, is ongoing and pervasive.          Figure 1.2  Map of Vancouver Island with Nuuchaanulth tribal territories listed along the Westcoast. Territories and tribal names provided by Chuuchk=amalthnii, using his orthography. Map from Backstory (2010), courtesy of the Belkin Art Gallery.  ! 4! Figure 1.3 Map indicating Westcoast h=aah=uulthii (chiefly territories) of Nuuchaanulth tribes.  Map by Jo Moore, from Golla 1987.  I was brought to the Westcoast of Vancouver Island by a man named Chuuchk=amalthnii6 to work on a video about thliitsapilthim (Nuuchaanulth ceremonial curtains) the first weekend in November in 2009 (Figure 1.4).  Chuuchk=amalthnii and I developed a close relationship and he is responsible for teaching me a great deal of what I have come to know.  He gave me a key to his house and told me I am welcome to stay whenever I come to the Valley.  When I am visiting for field research, I always take him up on his offer. What I !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!6 Chuuchk=amalthnii has over 40 traditional names that have been put on him throughout his life.  Prior to taking the name, Chuuchk=amalthnii in May 2009 when he was seated as the Head of the House of Tak=iishtak=amlthat (Earthquake House), he went by the name, K=i-k=e-in (given to him by his maternal Aunt Elizabeth Gallic, née Lauder).  His childhood nickname was Hupkwachuu (“Hair all over”), and today many close relatives will still call him “Hup,” “Huppy,” or “Hupkwachuu.”   ! 5!have learned from Chuuchk=amalthnii, and in time, his extended network of relations on the Westcoast, is invaluable and precious.    Figure 1.4 Chuuchk=amalthnii picks wild rose hips at Tl’ikuulth, Fall 2011.  Photo by author.   Chuuchk=amalthnii often spoke of “jealously guarding” cultural information, like family histories, tuupatii (ceremonial rights), knowledge about natural resources, and etc.  He has devoted his life to the pursuit of knowledge. “I worked to get a lot of what I know. I absolutely worked to get it. I know things because I pursued people of knowledge,” he explained.  During the summer of 2010 we were working on a film about Nuuchaanulth weaving and considered recording traditional stories that featured basketry and weavers.  Chuuchk=amalthnii was ambivalent about sharing this knowledge: “I’ve never wanted to record these stories because I’m scared of what people will do with them, that they won’t be respectful to them, that they’ll alter them, that they’ll make them about something they’re not about, or whatever. I also have jealously guarded them, in a sense, for my own family.  Sometimes I think all some of our people have left is their stories.” Every day in the Valley, Nuuchaanulth people are reminded of ! 6!theft—scarred mountainsides, severely diminished salmon runs, the prevalence of spoken English, and stolen childhoods, among other thefts (Figure 1.5).  Figure 1.5 Saantuu points to the clear cuts in Tl’ikuulthat-h= territory while on a walk from his home at Emin in Spring 2012. Photo by author.     1.1 Orientation: Genealogies , Language, P lace and Belonging My approach to writing this dissertation is to fuse Nuuchaanulthat-h= epistemologies and ethnographic practice with production of knowledge.  Writing is both a creative and analytical process—I hope to express the ways knowledge has been imparted to me, and simultaneously, analyze and comment on this information.  Without a doubt, this is an ethnographic text: descriptive narrative with analysis and discussion.  In this introduction I present a very brief explanation of my approach, education, use of language, and theoretical orientation.  In Chapter Two I provide historical background and develop the concept of encounter to interpret production of places in the Valley and Westcoast more generally.  ! 7!The chapters to follow use different case-studies, stories, kin relationships, and ethnographic narratives to build on this history and theoretical orientation.  My intention is for the reader—like myself—to arrive at a holistic understanding by the end of the final chapter.  I mirror Nuuchaanulth systems of h=aah=uupa (teaching), which rely on repetition, understanding of kin relations, and selective explanation, all of which build a foundation of knowledge.  I arrived in the Valley the first weekend in November 2009 completely ignorant; in the four-and-a-half years to follow, I have gone through a training process. Some Nuuchaanulth people decided I would be a worthy person to invest with their information, and my training from these people has been meticulous. My educative process shapes this text tremendously, and I honor their investment by drawing attention to this fact. I have been educated primarily by Huupach’esat-h= people of knowledge from the Ts’uumaa-asat-h= and Tl’ikuulthat-h= tribes,7 many of whom have Hikuulthat-h= roots. I have also been informed by people from the Tseshaat-h= connected to the Nash’asat-h= tribe.8  I follow a genealogy of “informants”9 in the Valley established by Franz Boas (August 1889), followed later by Edward Sapir (1910-1914), Morris Swadesh (late 1930s), and Susan Golla (1976-1992).  Sapir, for example, extensively interviewed Hamilton George (Grandfather of Chuuchk=amalthnii, Thlotiismayak, Chii-ilthimk=amako-a and Miss Bun) Dan Watts !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!7 Chuuchk=amalthnii, Wih=swih=s-sunup (Hugh Watts, Tayii), Ch’amaat (Sherman Lauder), Pat Lauder, Colleen Watts (Hakum), Thlotiismayak (April Thomas), Chii-ilthimk=amako-a (Gerri Thomas), Nasquu-isaqs (Shaunee Casavant), Sandra Vissia, Sharon Van Volsen, Saantuu (Johnson Hamilton), Yah=miss (Jolleen Dick), Lily Charlong, Susan Lauder, Randi-leigh MacNutt, and Martin MacNutt, among others. 8 Sayach’apis (Walter Thomas), Darleen Watts, Miss Bun (Eileen Haggard) and her children.  9 I use the term “informants” when referring to those informing the research of past anthropologists, as this is the terminology that they used.  In my ethnography, I do not use this language.  In my first draft of this text, I used the term “informant” to maintain a kind of consistency with previous anthropological writing; however, my Nuuchaanulth friends and collaborators took this language, understandably, as offensive.   It is offensive—I have been adopted into a family, included in ceremonial and ritual life, and stay in very close contact even when away from the Valley.  These people are much more than “informants;” they have become my friends and family. ! 8!(Grandfather of Wiih=swiih=s-sunup, Great-Grandfather of Nasquu-isaqs, Great-Great-Grandfather of Yah=miss), Tom Sayachapis and Alex Thomas (Great-Great-Grandfather and Grandfather, respectively, of Walter Thomas).  Genealogy is critically important in Nuuchaanulth culture: the first question people ask upon meeting a new person is “Who are you are related to?”  Tseshaat-h= and Huupach’esat-h= people have become very familiar with anthropologists over the last century, and these outsiders are part of another kind of genealogy.  In the early 1980s, Golla hosted a feast to thank her research participants. Tseshaat-h= Tayii (Head Chief) Adam Shewish explained to the witnesses present: “What you see here is not a new thing. Long ago, there was a man came here. His name was Sapir. Then there was another one, his name was Swadesh. Now Susan’s doing the same thing” (Golla field notes 7/7/79).  These genealogical networks enable Nuuchaanulthat-h= to begin a conversation with someone because they then understand who the person is by understanding who they are related to. The place and perspective I write from is primarily of particular Huupach’esat-h= families.  As a result, the language and orthography used in this text is Huupach’esat-h= spelling and pronunciation; this includes Huupach’esat-h= spelling of Nuuchaanulth words, but also names of other tribes.10 I refrain from using Indian Affairs or other “official” organizations’ spellings11 in favor of a phonetic, “easy-read” orthography from the perspective of Huupach’esat-h= pronunciation.  Language is critical to perceptions and production of place on the Westcoast. In October 1910, Edward Sapir began his research on behalf of the Canadian National Geological !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!10 For example, the Ditidaht people from the Southern Westcoast have a dialect that uses “d” and “b”, which are sounds that do not occur in the Central Nuuchaanulth dialects.  Thus, Huupach’esat-h= people would pronounce Ditidaht as Niitiinat-h=.   11 For sake of clarity and cross-referencing, “official” spellings will be included in parenthesis after the very first use of the word or tribal name. ! 9!Survey, conducting fieldwork with the Tseshaat-h= and Huupach’esat-h== of the Alberni Valley. In 1911, he reflected on his initial fieldwork, alongside previous work with the Southern Paiute, when he presented the paper, “Language and Environment,” to the American Anthropological Association: Properly speaking, of course, the physical environment is reflected in language only in so far as it has been influenced by social factors. The mere existence, for instance, of a certain type of animal in the physical environment of a people does not suffice to give rise to a linguistic symbol referring to it. It is necessary that the animal be known by the members of the group in common and that they have some interest, however slight, in it before the language of the community is called upon to make reference to this particular element of the physical environment. In other words, so far as language is concerned, all environmental influence reduces at last analysis to the influence of social environment (227-8).  In other words, people think about and relate to place and the physical environment through their languages, which have developed over thousands of years.  Sapir argued that language is influenced by environment through vocabulary, phonetics or morphology.  He pointed out the complex inventory of words that Nuuchaanulth people have, which relate to species of marine animals (228).  “It is important to note that it is not merely the fauna or topographical features of the country as such that are reflected, but rather the interest of the people in such environmental features” (229).  Nuuchaanulth people have a sizeable and specific vocabulary for natural resources because these resources have social, economic, ceremonial and spiritual significance.  In his correspondence, Sapir wrote repeatedly to Alfred Kroeber about his fascination with the specificity of Nuuchaanulth language.    The Nootka are intensely interesting, both ethnologically and linguistically.  Perhaps the most interesting thing about them in the former respect is the extremely large number of distinct kinds of things that are handed down as family privileges (ranging from hunting rights to the right to give a slave a certain name); it is interesting to note that the Nootka have a very precise native term for all privileges that are reserved for particular lines of descent, the term applying as much to a name or song as to a property right (Golla 1984: letter 134, 133).  ! 10!Concepts of ownership, which stem not only from economics, but the entangled realms of spirituality and social organization, form a social need for complex and particular vocabularies to speak about relationships to territories, spaces and their ensnared resources and histories.   Aahuusat-h= scholar, Marlene Atleo, has argued that Nuuchaanulth peoples’ sense of identity is derived from relationships to particular sites within a larger territory, or h=aah=uulthii. “Self definition is anchored in place […] A person from Ahous is an Ahous-aht. And while the colonial world called them “Nootkan”, Sproat (1868) recognized this attribute of self reference and called Nuuchaanulth people “Ahts” because they were people who identified themselves as being from specific places” (Atleo 2006: 2).   The designation, Nuuchaanulth, is a declarative title that references terrestrial and oceanic territories.  Chuuchk=amalthnii translates Nuuchaanulthat-h= as “people from the arc of mountains jutting out of the sea.”  Nelson Keitlah, former leader of the Nuuchaanulth Tribal Council, has translated Nuuchaanulth as “all along the mountains and sea.”  Both translations suggest ownership of land and sea, but the former is more specific about where those territorial lines are drawn.   Chuuchk=amalthnii’s translation requires a historical phenomenological imagination: he explained to me that you must imagine yourself out at sea in a canoe, and as you paddle in close enough to land you witness the mountains begin to jut out of the sea.  That is where the territory begins.  Changing the name of the West Coast District Council of Indian Chiefs to the Nuuchaanulth Tribal Council in 1979 was a strategic move to declare ownership of territories that extend beyond the shores of the Westcoast. ! 11!Likewise, the name given to the first visitors to the Westcoast was Mamalthnii (singular) or Maatmalthnii (plural).  According to Aahuusat-h= elder, Peter Webster (1978), “[Mamalthnii] means that you are living on the water and floating around, you have no land.” Thus, the name that came to define visitors, and later settlers, had nothing to do with the physical appearance of these people; instead, they were defined by a lack of connection to territory. This definition of a people is in contrast to the “aht” (male) or “aqsup” (female) suffixes, which describe “people of” a particular terrestrial place.     1.2 Theoretical Orientation  My research builds upon literatures that explore intersecting topics of space, place, the body, appearance, dress, ceremony/ritual, memory, materials and performance.  I look to particular cultural practices, such as potlatches, material production, knowledge transfer, identity articulation (via the body and dress), to investigate how contemporary Nuuchaanulth people engage with landscapes and produce places of significance.  In this chapter section, I show how I came to the concept of encounter as a means of interpreting spatial production. Encounter is an event where bodies, materials, memories, beliefs, and spiritual forces meet in tension to produce one another. The foundation of encounter begins where perception starts—the body—and finishes with the material world. (Merleau-Ponty 1958:77).  Merleau-Ponty argues that “our body is not primarily in space: it is of it” (171).  Experience merges the two together.  In conceptualizing space as embodied and experiential, it is important to remember the social relations and power struggles that also constitute space and place.  Where the two come ! 12!together, as Doreen Massey (1994) has pointed out, is the differentiated spatial experience of social relations (and power) (3).12  Massey advocates thinking of space and place as relational concepts—dynamic and unbounded sites where “‘the spatial’ is constituted by the interlocking of ‘stretched-out’ social relations” (22).  I follow the contention of phenomenologists that place is perceptually prior to space—that we are always first sensing places with our bodies and “are ineluctably place-bound” (Casey 1996: 19). Place is particular, specific, temporally bound and sensorial.  Yi-Fu Tuan (1977) argued that space and place rely on one another for definition; however, “‘Space’ is more abstract than ‘place.’ What begins as undifferentiated space becomes place as we get to know it better and endow it with value” (6). Perceiving and producing place requires social interactions, which Massey (2005) argues are processes brought together by, and constitutive of, places.  She describes places as rife with conflict, multiple identities, and without bounds: in other words, places are an ongoing process, unique yet “continually reproduced” (155).  Places are particular and emerge from a specific “set of social relations which interact at a particular location” (168).  Thomas Thornton (2008), in his analysis of Tlingit senses of being-in-place, has argued that place is a multi-dimensional intersection of space, time and experience (10; 34).  This perspective likewise accounts for the phenomenological experience of perceiving place alongside the temporally bound nature of “thinking about place as particular moments” (Massey 1994: 120).     From this perspective, places are “made” and rendered meaningful through the presence of people.  Keith Basso (1996) calls place-making a “cultural activity,” which reveals what !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!12 This understanding of power is similar to what Eric Wolf (1989) calls the fourth mode of power—that which both operates within social settings and manages interactions by “specif[ying] the distribution and direction of energy flows” (586). ! 13!people “make of themselves” through what they “make of their places” (7).  For Basso’s research among the Apache, place-making and –referencing are performative acts that bring histories into the present.  The story associated with the place haunts or stalks individuals who have transgressed, and therefore the landscape “in which people dwell can be said to dwell in them” (102).  Places trigger conscious reflection and connect people to larger physical and conceptual networks (106-7).  Place is rendered through bodies and bodies through places. Edward Casey (1996) maintains, “Culture is carried into places by bodies” (31). Lefebvre (1991) has argued that a complex set of relations exist between places, bodies and culture.  All three are produced and changed in an ongoing conversation with one another.  According to Lefebvre, “The relationship to space of a ‘subject’ who is a member of a group or society implies his relationship to his own body and vice versa” (40).  These relationships are also epistemological because “bodies not only perceive but know places” and culture “imbues and shapes particular places” through bodies (Casey 1996: 34).  The dynamic between the body and culture requires space and materiality to become placed.  Miles Richardson’s (1982) study of plaza and market spaces in Costa Rica found bodily behavior to be influenced by symbolic interaction between individuals and the material world (431).  Peoples’ interactions with one another are transferred “onto the where of the material setting,” resulting in an emplacement of the social situation (431).  Particular places evoke particular kinds of embodied behaviors. From a standpoint that recognizes reconciliation of the Cartesian disconnect between the mind and body, contemplation and making of place requires an embodied subject.  Casey has explained that the phenomenological turn from the body-as-object to the body-as-lived has ! 14!opened up possibilities for a “corporeal subject who lives in a place through perception” (22).  For Casey, perception is rooted in corporeality and the mind-body makes places through direct interaction in the immediacy of the present moment.  Knowledge of place is embroiled and constituted in the moment of perception, not something that occurs before or after.   But, what happens when a place is fractured and disrupted, as in the case of the landscapes of Vancouver Island, which have been ravaged by industrial logging, mining, and fishing or transferred to deed owned by private citizens?  One critique of phenomenological interpretations is the promotion of a romanticized view of place as whole and unbroken, which does not account for the reality of fractured landscapes, experiences of alienation and loss.  Basso’s ethnography of the Western Apache, for example, favors an account seemingly disconnected from a history of land dispossession.  If memory is profoundly spatial (Bachelard 1994 [1958]; Gordillo 2004), what do we make of ancestral places of significance where recent (and even not-so-recent) traumas have also occurred?  Figure 1.6 Car parked in front of Hupacasath First Nation private property sign in order to access the Sproat River to fish illegally. Photograph by author.    Gastón Gordillo’s (2004) ethnography of the Toba of Northern Argentina offers a useful perspective:  He found that memories of the plantations constituted imaginings of the ! 15!bush as a “site of resilience which has enabled them to endure state terror, capitalist exploitation, missionary social control and state domination” (253-4).  The proximity of these places in memories and physicality meant that they were “constituted through their permanent interaction” (254).  Therefore, the Toba’s perception of place informed how they perceived themselves (257).  Contradictions within places are ongoing and embedded in history; they strive to reach synthesis, and this “fusion of history and culture…produces places” (258-9).  Likewise, on the Westcoast of Vancouver Island, people frequent places that are the epitome of contradiction: The site of the former Alberni Indian Residential School (until 1973), which now serves as the location for the Nuuchaanulth Tribal Council Offices, and the gymnasium (renamed, Maht-Mahs) where many large-scale Nuuchaanulth potlatches are held today; the Ts’uumaa-as (Somass) River—a source of wealth (e.g., several species of salmon)—overrun by commercial fishermen and a polluting pulp mill; River Road (TransCanada Highway 4), an ever-increasing easement cutting into Aswinis (Ahahswinis Indian Reserve #1), a bustling site of movement, transportation, and interaction—but marred by memories of racism and violence; Tl’ikuulth (Klekhoot Indian Reserve #2), a traditional fishing and village site, under surveillance by the Department of Fisheries and Oceans—yet despite this impediment to privacy, has a riverbed inundated with trash each sockeye season (Figures 1.6 and 1.7); and the Valley more generally, surrounded by mountains scarred with clear cuts.  These are spatial and social contradictions of daily life in the Valley: places produced through encounters between past and present, traumatic events and healing missions, memories and hopes for the future. I use the term, encounter, to interpret the production of place through contradictory13 forces—histories, memories, phenomena, responsibilities, and etc.  Phenomenology helps us to !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!13!Contradictory forces are not necessarily twofold and binary.!! 16!understand the value of embodied perception: the body is where senses of place begin. However, each body is contextualized by larger cultural understandings, histories, and roles.    Figure 1.7 Fisheries officers policing Tl’ikuulth, May 2012.  “Who invited you to be here?” Saantuu questioned them one day when they walked down to his father’s home.  “And if you’re watching us all the time from across the river, why aren’t you doing anything about the trash and the fishing line and the beer cans that get left down there? I see you guys chasing a lot of Native guys away. They might not be from our band, but I don’t mind if Native guys are down there getting fish to feed their families—that’s all we have.  White people won’t hire us in town. But I have a problem with people leaving their trash. So why aren’t you doing something about that? We have a huge problem. We filled three trash bags last week!” Photograph by author.  The places that bodies come to occupy have temporal depth marked through a stratigraphy of sedimented history. There are a few places in Port Alberni and the Valley more generally where these deep histories are highlighted: the Huupach’esat-h= welcome figures at the bottom of Johnson Street, the permanent exhibition at the Alberni Valley Museum, Kitsuksis Dyke Walking Path, and K’akaw’in, the Huupach’esat-h= petroglyph wall, Figure 1.9, at Aukw-Tl’ikuulth (Sproat Lake). But for the most part, deep histories in the Valley no longer have visual markers, requiring archaeological inquiry.  Many people move through the Valley landscape completely ignorant of the histories associated with places they occupy.  Instead of deep history, the ruins of capitalism are fresh on the Valley’s surface: it is ! 17!impossible to move through the landscape without witnessing clear cuts that mar surrounding mountains and experiencing the stench of sulfur dioxide (Figure 1.9).  At the same time, snow capped mountains, riverbeds, and forests thick with ferns and moss appear idyllic and timeless.  The Valley is a place of contradiction: of beauty and blight, youth and corrosion, wealth and poverty, healing and illness.  Places in the Valley are produced through moments of encounter, where contradictions come to a head. “The effects of encounters across difference can be compromising or empowering,” Anna Tsing (2005) has argued (6).  She uses the term “friction” to describe the grip compelling two forces to move together in a direction. “Friction is not just about slowing things down. Friction is required to keep global power in motion” (6).   Figure 1.8 Chuuchk=amalthnii discusses history of K’akaw’in, a Huupach’esat-h= petroglyph wall, November 2009. Video still by author.  Frictional encounters produce relationships to space. In the Valley, for example, movement through a landscape of logging destruction is a visually shocking trauma that becomes normalized through everyday witnessing. The centrally located pulp mill spews sulfur dioxide into the air (see Figure 1.9). The body’s respiratory system processes the polluted air, ! 18!which sits heavy in the Valley.  When the wind is still the Valley reeks of rotten eggs, a deathly odor of chronic toxicity.   The Valley is simultaneously a place of destruction and wealth production.  It is rich in natural resources and Huupach’esat-h= are incredible hunters and fishermen. Archaeological records suggest occupation for thousands of years (McMillan 1999). According to the Huupach’esat-h=, their ancestors have lived in the Valley forever.   Figure 1.9 Port Alberni at dusk in December 2009. Pulp mill located to the lower right, K=althk=achulth (Mount Aerosmith) in the background, Yaatshuulthat (“Walking-On-The-Face, Beaufort Mountain Range) to the left of K=althk=achulth. Video still by author.  Huupach’esat-h= ancestors lived in a Valley of wealth, but today their descendents are relegated to a small portion of their territory where they witness others accumulate wealth from their h=aah=uulthii. The pulp mill produces wealth for outside logging companies, while leaving Huupach’esat-h= people to suffer with smaller fish stocks and illnesses associated with pulp mill pollution (often respiratory and skin problems).  There are many kinds of encounter, yet all encounters require an interface with some amount of friction.  Some encounters are more tenuous than others, and these encounters often ! 19!produce conflicting, ambivalent associations with place.  Some encounters are ongoing and repetitive—these kinds of encounter have become normalized and are part of everyday life.  This is not to say such encounters are not frictional—in fact, what makes normalized encounters so profound is that people become habituated to destruction, loss, and trauma.  Some encounters are shocking—these are often the initial encounters with something or someone out of the ordinary.  These may be supernatural or other-worldly encounters, and often produce wealth, strength, and new associations with place.  Encounters happen in moments, and in places. Encounters are referential, and simultaneously help to produce the very places within which that same interaction took place.   In this dissertation, I move through various levels of abstraction to think through the productive (at time, destructive) nature of encounter.  This entire dissertation is, in fact, an account of ethnographic encounter.  What I present is mediated through my encounters with Nuuchaanulth people. It is also produced through my encounter with the Westcoast (as a physical place), engagement with materials, and participation in cultural and ceremonial life.     1.3 Methodology and Being in P lace  I began my research in November 2009, after meeting Chuuchk=amalthnii and agreeing to collaborate on a documentary film about thliitsapilthim.  This project (discussed further in Chapter Eight), catapulted me into Nuuchaanulth social life.  I traveled every available weekend to the Valley, and continued this trend after completing the film in January 2010. This was my introduction to the diverse community, particularly the Huupach’esat-h=, who have resided in the Valley for many generations.   ! 20! Figure 1.10 View of Aa-ukw Tl’ikuulth (Sproat Lake) and mountain boundaries between Huupach’esat-h= and Tla-okwii-at-h= territories, from the top of H==etspik=uulth. Photo by author.  I continue to travel regularly back to Tl’ikuulth, the Valley, and the Westcoast of Vancouver Island (Figure 1.10). Between visits, I have augmented the ethnographic portion of my research with examination of material and archival records.  I have held month-long residencies at the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History (2011), Newberry Library (2012), and the American Philosophical Society Archives (2013).  I have traveled (and when possible, accompanied by Chuuchk=amalthnii) to the following museums to examine ceremonial and secular materials: Canadian Museum of Civilization (Gatineau, Quebec, Canada), Fenimore Art Museum (Cooperstown, New York, USA), Menil Collection (Houston, Texas, USA), the Field Museum (Chicago, Illinois, USA), Museum of Anthropology at UBC (Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada), the Alberni Valley Museum (Port Alberni, British Columbia, Canada), American Museum of Natural History (New York, New York, USA), Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology (Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA), Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of Natural History (Washington, District of Columbia, USA), Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of the American Indian ! 21!(Washington, District of Columbia, USA), Peabody Essex Museum (Salem, Massachusetts, USA), British Museum (London, England, United Kingdom), Ethnological Museum of Berlin (Berlin, Germany) and the Karl May Museum (Radebeul, Germany). I combine ethnography with museum- and archival-based methodologies.    Figure 1.11 Nasquu-isaqs (left) and Denise Green (author, right) at the top of “the Lookout”, called, H==etspik=uulth (Excrement-On-The-Face).  The literal translation of the place name references how, from the perspective of the Valley below, it looks like the color of a baby’s feces on the face of the mountain. Nasquu-isaqs and I hiked to H=etspik=uulth with her cousin, Saantuu, in February of 2012 to see the Huupach’esat-h= territories in the Valley. Photo by Saantuu.  During my fieldwork, I lived at Tl’ikuulth. After visiting on weekends throughout the 2009-2010 school year, I moved to Tl’ikuulth summer of 2010 to begin research and a second film project about Nuuchaanulth basketry and weaving. I continued to travel on weekends during the 2010-2011 academic year.  After completing my comprehensive exams in April 2011, I moved to Tl’ikuulth full-time in September 2011.  I rented a house, which enabled me to host many dinners and invite people into my home.  By this time, I was a familiar face to many Nuuchaanulth in Port Alberni and I used this year to deepen connections and work on a ! 22!number of collaborative film projects.14   As part of my research, I attended weekly language classes: one at Ts’awaayuus, an elderly care facility in Port Alberni operated by the West Coast Native Healthcare Society, and a second at North Island College.  I spent a lot of time at the Huupach’esat-h= band hall, attending a weekly sewing group and dance practices. I invited people into my home and most days went around visiting, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by Chuuchk=amalthnii and his son, Saantuu. I went hiking with Nuuchaanulth friends, and learned about places in their h=aah=uulthii (Figure 1.11). My days often lasted late into the evening, playing cards or dice, drinking tea, listening and learning.  I kept a field notebook with me, and a journal that I wrote in every evening.  I also conducted formal interviews, which were recorded (sometimes video, sometimes audio) and later transcribed.  As part of my video research on mamuu (weaving) and thliitsapilthim, I filmed activities related to cedar and grass weaving, painting and potlatching.  It is important to understand and acknowledge the limitations of data collection and research methods. Limitations also inform us of power geometries, and remind us of how histories and anticipatory futures shape contemporary practices—that is, the kinds of information that individuals are and are not willing to share with outsiders.  For example, in an edited volume of Sapir’s research regarding the Tl’uukwaana (Wolf Ritual), Alex Thomas (Sapir’s informant and correspondent) wrote to send his regrets that he could not get “the real !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!14 Many of these video projects are only briefly referenced in this text.  My larger dissertation does not focus on media, and I used my skills as a videographer as a means of reciprocation.  I made a series of language education films for students learning the Nuuchaanulth language as part of the University of Victoria’s Aboriginal Language Revitalization Program.  I made a series of “music videos” for the Hupacasath First Nation, chronicling dance practices and the creation of four new songs and dances.  Finally, I completed a promotional film for Tsawaayuus (Rainbow Gardens), the elderly care facility operated by the West Coast Native Healthcare Society, where I spent a lot of time during my fieldwork attending language classes and visiting with residents.  A film made about Nuuchaanulth weavers is discussed and analyzed in Chapter Six, but this—along with the earlier video project about thliitsapilthim—were the only video projects directly related to my research and therefore are analyzed as such.  ! 23!secrets” about Tl’uukwaana rituals. Much of this information is considered extremely private and proprietary. Chuuchk=amalthnii’s Uncle, K==aamiina (Johnny Jacobson, also known by the nickname “Smitty”), explained it to him this way: He [K==aamiina] talked at length about the way our people have been all the time is to keep what we call h=aah=uupachak, the philosophies, the teachings, the wisdoms, the nuggets of pithy truth or knowledge, the stuff that we weave our lives around, the pillars of our being, I don’t know what to call it. If we’re talking about weaving, these things would be the warps, the upright, solid framework around which other things are woven.  To keep those things, to contain them and not to disperse them. And in the dispersing of it among weak minds, to have it bastardized, corrupted, twisted, forgotten, played with and so on.  I am exceedingly grateful for all that has been shared with me, and in writing this dissertation have done my best to respect their knowledge. There are many things I do not know, and that I do not have a right to know.  Additionally, there are things I have been told which are not my right to write about. I have shared drafts of my writing with those who have informed the research in order to make sure I have not “bastardized, corrupted, twisted, forgotten, played” with anything or turned information into something it is not. This is also to ensure that I have not overstepped my bounds, and written about something that I am not entitled to speak about publicly. At the same time, I have endeavored to communicate the conclusions that have arisen from my thesis argument.     The most informative part of my research was physically, mentally, and emotionally being in Huupach’esat-h= territories, among Nuuchaanulth people. Tl’ikuulth is the place name, but also the name of the Tl’ikuulthat-h=, one of four15 distinct clans of the amalgamated Huupach’esat-h=.  Chuuchk=amalthnii is Head of the first-ranked House of the Tl’ikuulthat-h=, !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!15 There is some disagreement about exactly how many clans amalgamated. After reviewing notes from previous anthropologists (Boas, Sapir, Golla and Arima), and interviews I conducted with Huupach’esat-h elders, I have heard anywhere from three to five clans.  These include: Tsuumaa-asat-h=, Muuh=uulthat-h=, Tl’ikuulthat-h, Tux=wilthat-h=, and Na’mintat-h=.  Further discussion of amalgamation may be found in chapters two and three. ! 24!Tak=iishtakamthl (Earthquake House).  Klekoot #2 was the name applied by Peter O’Reilly during the allocation of “Indian Reserves” in 1881. Today, five homes sit above the river: one above Emin (place name which literally translates as “belly button”) and another above Tuxwilth (waterfalls).  These river rapids (known in English as “Sproat River”) connect to Aa-ukw Tl’ikuulth (Sproat Lake).  The reserve lands do not include any lakefront access, despite the fact that what is now called “Smith’s Landing” (after the man who farmed the area, George Smith) was the site of a Tl’ikuulthat-h= village.  A petroglyph wall less than a quarter mile from this site affirms its occupation for many thousands of years.  This land was instead put in the hands of MacMillan Bloedel Limited, a forestry company. MacMillan Bloedel “gave” the land to the province of British Columbia in 1966, and it later became Sproat Lake Provincial Park.   During my fieldwork we regularly walked the half-mile from Tl’ikuulth down to Smith’s Landing and the petroglyphs (Figure 1.12). Chuuchk=amalthnii often lamented the destruction of the lake, the koi fish invasion, multi-million dollar homes built along the shores, and the sewage spewing from these homes, which face the petroglyph wall made by Kwatyaat, the Nuuchaanulth superhero, who lived in Iik=h=muut (The Time Before Time).  Now, the province displays Huupach’esat-h= ha’wilthmis (chiefly treasures) against the backdrop of White settlement and capitalist wealth. The province claims, “Little is known about this petroglyph, named K’ak’awin, but it isn’t hard to imagine this rock carving as depicting some mystical ancient monsters16 of the lake.”17  A great deal is known about this site from oral histories, which will be discussed further in Chapter Seven. Kakaw’in is yet another site in !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!16 I have never heard a Nuuchaanulth person speak of “monsters.”  Many talk about supernatural phenomena, ch’ih=aa (spiritual beings), ya’ai (spirit messengers on the land), and have specific names for the many non-human/non-animal beings that people the landscape, particularly the forests and bush.  Encounters with supernatural phenomena are discussed at length in Chapter Two.   17 http://www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/sproat_lk/ ! 25!Huupach’esat-h territory, clearly sacred, clearly owned, clearly known about, which has been stolen and used to make money (i.e., through tourism) for people or entities who are not Nuuchaanulth (i.e., the province of British Columbia). It is also used to memorialize early settler, prospector, and Indian Reserve Commissioner, Gilbert Malcolm Sproat. Saantuu, Chuuchk=amalthnii’s son, dreamed someday to paint his old Chevy RV to look like a Ma’as (Big House), park it down at Smith’s Landing, and live there. “That’s our village site.  That is where I am supposed to live,” he would tell me.  Figure 1.12 Saantuu, Chuuchk=amalthnii and Chico walk towards Aukw-Tl’ikuulth, in Tl’ikuulthat-h= territory, Fall 2011.  Photo by author.   Almost every day during the summer months Saantuu would walk down to the old village site with his dog, Chico.  Chuuchk=amalthnii on the other hand, preferred walks in the bush, where he was not faced with the ignorance of provincial park signage and audacious homes.  First, through unchecked logging, and persisting through the parceling out real estate—many millions of dollars have been made off of the wealth of the Tl’ikuulthat-h= people, yet no compensation has been provided to them.  Instead, the village was moved down the river, where it is invaded each June with sports fishermen who come to illegally jig the sockeye that spawn there.  They leave their beer bottles, fishing line, hooks, toilet paper, other trash and ! 26!sometimes even their fish to sit and rot if they see a Department of Fisheries and Oceans officer has caught them fishing illegally. Every day, cars park at the bottom of the hill at Tl’ikuulth right in front of a sign that reads “Hupacasath Private Property.”  This space, indicative of broader social, economic, environmental degradation and disrespect, is where I lived and conducted my fieldwork. The city of Port Alberni is about 12 kilometers from Tl’ikuulth. To drive into town one passes through the Tseshaat-h= Reserve, over the “Orange Bridge,”18 along the Ts’uumaa-as River and Aswinis (the other inhabited Huupach’esat-h= village site), and finally into Alberni. The twin cities of Alberni and Port Alberni amalgamated in 1967, but some still refer to the Aswinis side of town as simply, Alberni.  Nuuchaanulth origin stories hearken back to a time when humans, animals and supernatural creatures conversed with one another and had close relationships.  There is still a belief that the landscape is sentient, alive with ch’ih=aa (spiritual beings) and peopled by animals. I learned this by moving through the landscape with my Huupach’esat-h= companions.  Throughout my fieldwork we regularly drove to town. Coming in and out of Tl’ikuulth we looked for bears in the summer, spring and fall. On the way to town, we often saw ‘Skinny Bum,’ the name Chuuchk=amalthnii gave to a old, apparently thin, eagle who lives along the Ts’uumaa-as River, near the entrance to Aswinis.  Skinny Bum is there like a pillar, welcoming visitors and all to Aswinis, the primary home to the Ts’uumaa-asat-h= (the first-ranked house of the Huupach’esat-h=). Saantuu and Chuuchk=amalthnii monitored his behavior on every trip into town.  Sometimes he was in love, perched with a female, fat and happy, and other times dejected, alone, thin and morose.  He returned year after year to the same snag—alive as any !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!18 The “Orange Bridge” is now silver, but the name—given when the bridge was painted bright orange many years ago—has stuck. ! 27!human walking down River Road. Before observing Skinny Bum, passing over the “Orange Bridge” and onto the Huupach’esat-h= side of the river, we looked for seals in the river, especially during the salmon runs.  Sometimes we were graced with the presence of K=aak=up (trumpeter swans).  These rare occasions reminded Chuuchk=amalthnii of a story about Enth=tin (Snot Boy), a Nuuchaanulth super hero who tried unsuccessfully at one time to take a woman for a wife, who turned out to be a trumpeter swan. Coming down the hill towards the Ts’uumaa-as on sunny days, we monitored snowfall, looking ahead for K==althk=achulth, the largest mountain marking the boundary between Huupach’esat-h= and Uusapat-h= (People from the other side of the mountain, Coast Salish territories). We picked up hitchhikers going into town and said hello to friends and relatives walking or biking along River Road. The daily commute to town was a social one—between people, animals and landscapes. These encounters produced a sense of belonging, for people increasingly made to feel alien in their home territories.    1.4 Chapter Organization In Chapter Two I develop the concept of encounter as a way of thinking about how two forces—whether people, phenomena, objects, or expressive culture—come together in time and space to produce new and different senses of place. I chronicle an ongoing history of encounters on the Westcoast, starting from Iik=h=muut, and examine how senses of place emerge. In the chapters to follow, I use this concept as scaffolding to interpret how contemporary places in the Alberni Valley are produced by encountering history.  ! 28!I use Chapter Three to chronicle some family histories of the Tl’ikuulthat-h= and Hiikuulthat-h= and discuss more generally the ways that knowledge and information are imparted through kin ties.  These genealogies of knowledge connect Nuuchaanulthat-h= to one another, Huupach’esat-h territories, tuupatii (ceremonial rights), and influential ancestors.  Chapter Four illustrates how forces, such as grief and loss, have shaped perceptions of place and landscape. I use material culture—in particular a pair of hinkiitsim that belong to the Huupach’esat-h= Tayii Ha’wilth (Head Chief)—to outline Huupach’esat-h= chiefly lines, power relations, and disagreements about histories. I use this chapter to reflect more deeply on my ethnography and involvement in networks of relations on the Westcoast.   Chapter Five is a case study of a Yax=malthit (cleansing potlatch), held by the Tayii Ha’wilth of the Nash’asat-h=, the second-ranked tribe of the amalgamated Tseshaat-h= people.  This spatial analysis examines the site where many Nuuchaanulth potlatches are held today—the gymnasium of the former Alberni Indian Residential School.  This chapter is also about the history of anthropologists and their “informants” in the Alberni Valley.  I write about the relationship between my friend, Sayach’apis (Walter Thomas), and his Great-Great-Grandfather, Tom Sayach’apis, who informed the research of Franz Boas and Edward Sapir. In Chapter Six I focus on h=uulthin (ceremonial shawls) to explore bodies and adornments as a site of cultural production that signal and produce connection to specific families, territories, and resources (Jensen and Sargent 1986).  The meaning of materials that people make and/or adorn are never stable or fixed.  They are always in a process of becoming and signifying because, as Nicholas Thomas (1991) has argued, “objects pass through social transformations” and contain cultural biographies (28; 73). In other words, the meaning attached to “objects change in defiance of their material stability” (125). I use this Chapter to ! 29!interpret how people use clothing—h=uulthin in particular—to produce understandings of place within the complex historical context of the Northwest Coast.  In Chapter Seven I use another material form and process—weaving—to examine production of place and transmission of cultural knowledge. Julie Cruikshank (2000) notes that material culture and oral tradition tend to be “treated separately, but analyzed similarly” and argues it advantageous to combine these “two seemingly restricted ethnographic approaches” (101; 99). Nuuchaanulth weaving highlights connections between place, individual biographies and the production of material culture.  In this chapter I spatially follow the process of making basketry from trips into “the bush” around K==althk=achulth to collect materials, to the domestic space of homes where baskets are generally woven, to the places and economic networks where basketry is distributed and eventually displayed.  I end with a discussion of thliitsapilthim in Chapter Eight, the very material-spiritual-spatial form that brought me to the Westcoast to begin with. I interpret public display of thliitsapilthim as performance of cultural knowledge about territories.  Thliitsapilthim map territories, yet sometimes contradict contemporary landscapes. The largest scale illustrations of crests, rights and responsibilities of Nuuchaanulth chiefly families are featured on thliitsapilthim. During a potlatch, the thliitsapilthim is the most prominent display and its meaning is publicly discussed.  As a highly conspicuous declaration, thliitsapilthim once displayed may become sites of public contestation. I explore the role that thliitsapilthim play in bringing together—however tenuously—Nuuchaanulth social organization, identity politics, and landscape.   Each chapter focuses in some way on the production of place on the Westcoast, and in Huupach’esat-h= territory more specifically.  I have used many different research methods—! 30!from formal interviews, videography, archival research, material research, participant observation and collaborative media production, among others, to investigate how senses of place are produced and lived in a site of ongoing colonial encounter.  I trace genealogies of knowledge and the complexity of contested histories.  I draw on Nuuchaanulth beliefs and practices around grief to examine how people face the violence of colonialism and capitalism in their lives and landscapes. These themes are present throughout each chapter, but I use a different material or cultural form as conduit for explication.  ! 31!Chapter 2: Encounters  on the Westcoas t In Canada, the colonizing peoples that have come here, have had every opportunity to know where we’re from. When they come onto the land, they know precisely where we’re from. We’re from right here. We’re not from anywhere else. However, they’ve never asked us about that. They’ve never said, ‘Who are you?’ … We haven’t met because no one has ever said, ‘Who are you and what’s your understanding about this place?’” (K=i-k=e-in 2000: 204-5).   In this chapter, I provide historical background of events that have affected places and people on the Westcoast of Vancouver Island, and the Valley more specifically.  I follow other scholars of space and place in arguing that dialectical tension produce places (Gordillo 2004; Lefebvre 1991[1974]). On the Westcoast, dialectical tensions take many forms: conversations and the absence of dialogue, forgetting and remembering, belonging and encroaching, and the generative nature of loss. Tensions come to a head in moments of encounter.  Anna Tsing (2005) has argued, “Encounters across difference should inform our models of cultural production” (3). In this chapter, I develop the concept of encounter to interpret production of places and understandings on the Westcoast. I move beyond a commonsense understanding of encounter to one that relies on the precarious nature of uncertainty and creation.  Encounters may be productive. Moving through landscapes, using resources, harnessing and expressing creativity—these are activities of encounter that produce knowledge and understanding. Encounters are affected by asymmetry; encounters produce dispossession for some and wealth for others.    The concept of encounter is a way of thinking about how multiple forces—whether people, phenomena, objects, or expressive culture—come together in time and space to produce new senses of place. Encounters are tenuous, and unfold through friction.  Anna Tsing (2005) has argued that seemingly disparate interests come together and mobilize in spite of (or perhaps because of) their inherent differences.  The central feature of this mobilization is the negotiation ! 32!of difference, which is made possible through friction.  Friction is, as Tsing has argued, “the grip of encounter” (5). Tsing’s research explores the co-production of cultures through frictional interactions and global interconnections. I use the concept of frictional encounter in a slightly different manner: I argue that places, in addition to cultures, are produced through friction: “the awkward, unequal, unstable, and creative qualities of interconnection across difference” (Tsing 2005: 4). The grip of globalization is alive in the Valley, where trees are liquidated daily and others pulverized into pulp.  Places are continually produced and reproduced through frictional moments of encounter. These are encounters of surprise, of contradiction, of tension—moments that leave some kind of lasting imprint on place.  In this chapter, I look to encounters between Nuuchaanulthat-h= and supernatural phenomena, material culture and outsiders to examine how interfaces produce diverse--and at times divergent and devastated--places and perceptions of belonging on the Westcoast. The arguments and understandings presented throughout this text have been produced through ethnographic encounter.  Encounter is productive—though not to say, at times, destructive—and tensions fuel encounter through friction. Is it appropriate to use a singular term to interpret such a wide range of interactions?  On the Westcoast, encounters have produced senses of place through violence, trauma and suffering but also through spiritual enlightenment, benevolence, and wisdom.  I do not use encounter as a euphemism to whitewash the brutality of ongoing colonialism in the Valley, and the Northwest Coast more generally.  Rather, I use the term because of its flexibility.  An encounter is an unexpected confrontation between forces, which therefore requires some initial spatial separation. ! 33!Resistance has shaped encounters on the Westcoast, but synthesis and fusion are also part of unfolding encounters. One force is not simply met with a singular counter-force. Forces that produce frictional encounters are often multiple, thus moving this concept beyond binary thinking that considers only force and counter-force. Encounters are fluid rather than discrete and transpire through landscapes that perceptions of place that shift and change with time and circumstance.    Accounts of encounter are partial—yet this incompleteness is part of the narrative. I opened with the quote from K=i-k=e-in’s published “conversation” with Charlotte Townsend-Gault because he points to the very heart of encounter and the inherent complexity of interactions. Perspective, worldview, epistemology and ontology all shape moments of encounter.  Interactions are not always, as K=i-k=e-in suggests, moments of meeting, introduction, or dialogue. Encounter is friction, and as such a reminder “that heterogeneous and unequal encounters can lead to new arrangements of culture and power” (Tsing 2005: 5).      On the Northwest Coast, and the Westcoast of Vancouver Island more specifically, an ongoing history of colonial encounter—that is, a history of shifting, imbalanced power relations—continues to influence the ways that places today are physically and conceptually produced and understood.   Power, inequality, politics and economics contribute to complicated processes of place-making and spatial organization (Gupta and Ferguson 1997: 17).  The ongoing production of places on the Westcoast did not miraculously begin with colonial contact.  The Westcoast has always been a dynamic space of commerce, resource management, spirituality, familial connections fortified through movement of peoples via marriage, and of trade and exchange.  This was a well-traversed landscape long before the arrival of Maatmalthnii: the people without place, who came from homes floating around on the ocean. ! 34!2.1 Producing P laces  and His tories  In one of my first meetings with Nasquu-isaqs, a high-ranking and well-respected woman of the Huupach’esat-h=, she explained: “Our people have been here forever, that’s our understanding.” Days later, standing in front of Kakaw’in, a petroglyph site on Aa-ukw Tl’ikuulth (Sproat Lake), Nasquu-isaqs’ Uncle, Chuuchk=amalthnii,19 elaborated, “We talk about a time called Iik=h=muut. Iik=h=muut is ‘The Time Before Time’. That’s clearly prehistoric.”  Anthropologist, Philip Drucker (1951), among others, has written that the Huupach’esat-h== have “made their home on the shores of Sproat Lake since time immemorial” (5). Anthropologists have repeatedly made mention of this sensibility among Westcoast peoples.  In a study of the Kyuquot in the late 1970s, Susan Kenyon (1980) wrote, “There is a sense of identification with the land, rooted in the belief that their people have lived there forever and it is a part of their being” (154). Identification with h=aah=uulthii (chiefly territories) has great historical depth, in part, because of the nature of the landscape. Drucker argued that because the Westcoast landscape was rugged it “played an important part in the sociopolitical divisions of people” (7). Yet, at the same time, groups like the Huupach’esat-h= are known for keeping extensive trail systems over mountains to maintain trade routes and social ties with Qualicum, Snuneymuxw, and Kwakwaka’wakw peoples.  Other Nuuchaanulth groups traveled great distances by canoe, navigating water rather than land.   Nuuchaanulth territories are rich in resources, which may also account for why people committed themselves to particular locations. The temporal depth of being-in-place, and of place-in-being, raises questions: What was Iik=h=muut like (spatially, culturally, socially)? How !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!19 Formerly known by the name, K=i-k=e-in, and quoted at the start of this chapter.  He took the name Chuuchk=amalthnii in May 2009, at a potlatch held to mark the end of grief for the death of his older brother. ! 35!does one find deep histories of place, of peoples’ spatial lives, the significance of particular sites, peoples’ practices, senses of belonging, exclusion and even ambivalence about territories and landscape? “Being” and “existence” in the world comes from the beginning of time, or rather, from the time before time began, which is located in particular sites on the Westcoast.     Deep histories are alive in oral records. Family histories are often considered proprietary, meaning that they are owned by the family; only at particular public moments, like a potlatch or feast, and set against the backdrop of a family’s thliitsapilthim (ceremonial curtain), may these histories be publicly shared with wider audiences. Knowledge of Iik=h=muut  is also alive in place names, personal names, songs, dances, language and tuupatii (ceremonial rights and privileges).  These histories may also be buried deep beneath the ground, engraved in rock, and passed down through oral histories. Histories, too, are inextricably place-bound. Archives are another place where histories are located, produced and sometimes left forgotten.  These records are dominated by an overwhelming quantity of post-contact narratives and journals authored by visitors to the Westcoast.  In these texts, authors tend to use difference as a discursive point of departure—that is, emphasis is on “othering,” exaggerating, and sensationalizing.  In my research, I traveled to work in many archives, occasionally accompanied by Chuuchk=amalthnii. Archival records also play a role producing senses of place.  As an ethnographer, I primarily conduct research with K=uu-as (real, living human beings) in sites on the Westcoast; I also travel to sterile rooms, with file cabinets and catalog cards. In these spaces, museum staff police my every movement. In museums and archives, I have learned another kind of history of people, material and place.  As a researcher, I work in two different places, with two kinds of archives that have a complicated relationship ! 36!to one another.  I draw from disparate sources, not uncritically, to illustrate how senses of place are produced both within, and away from, the Westcoast.   2.2 Being in P lace and Encountering Ethnographic Practice  How did I enter into conversations with Nuuchaanulth people in the Valley?  I use this section of the Chapter to discuss how I came to the Valley and my ethnographic practice of “being in place.” Being in a place is a path of entry into conversation with history, ways of remembering, seeing, feeling and knowing.  My ethnographic experience of the Westcoast of Vancouver Island is in so many ways shaped by my first encounter, the weekend of November 5th, 2009.   The trip was spontaneous and unexpected and I was enlivened by the experience.  By the end of this weekend trip, I was sure I would continue to work with Nuuchaanulth people.  On the return to Vancouver, from Tl’ikuulth to the Nanaimo ferry, I spoke with Chuuchk=amalthnii, my host, about doing my Ph.D. research in his home community.  He was supportive of the idea, and my research evolved from this place of conversation and understanding. I must rewind a few weeks prior to this trip to give context.  Chuuchk=amalthnii came to speak in a graduate seminar class I was taking.  The course, taught by Dr. Charlotte Townsend-Gault, was primarily focused on the preparation and curation of an exhibition of Nuuchaanulth ceremonial curtains, called thliitsapilthim. The exhibition was scheduled to open the following January as part of the cultural celebrations of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics.  Chuuchk=amalthnii had painted many of the thliitsapilthim to be included in the exhibition, and also did a significant amount of the curating, selecting older screens and curtains to be loaned ! 37!from museum and private collections.  He arrived to speak to our class in October, rather unexpectedly.  After a general introduction, he shared his sister,20 Gerri Thomas’s, thliitsapilthim, which he had made for her.  He spoke in depth about the process of making it and how it was used in ceremony.     After the class I approached Chuuchk=amalthnii to ask if he would be interested in working on a film project. I wanted to put moving image in conversation with the thliitsapilthim to be displayed in the gallery.  He expressed great interest, and we kept intermittent contact over the next few weeks.  We planned to meet, and on November 4 he asked me to come with him to Vancouver Island the next day to begin work on the film.  We planned to spend every weekend, Thursday-Monday, through the end of the semester on Vancouver Island gathering footage for the film.  In less than 24 hours, I had to prepare all the video equipment, gather together enough tapes, pack a suitcase, organize my thoughts and a shot list—as well as research consent forms—and prepare to make my first research trip. The next day, Chuuchk=amalthnii picked me up in his bright red, diesel Volkswagen Golf and we drove from UBC to the Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal, with hopes of making the 5 pm ferry.  This was my first time alone with him, and I learned that his oratory abilities were not limited to the classroom.  He talked to me, almost nonstop the entire ride to the ferry, about his perspective on the modern treaty process in British Columbia.  He seemed unaffected by the world around him—I remember vividly waiting for him to make an illegal left turn in downtown Vancouver,21 car horns honking, and yet he was not phased.  To him, the most !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!20 In Nuuchaanulth culture, particularly among older generations, a first cousin is called a sister.  Gerri Thomas is sister to Chuuchk=amalthnii through her mother, Doris Martin, who was the biological sister of Chuuchk=amalthnii’s father, Clifford Hamilton.   21 Chuuchk=amalthnii’s second oldest son, Saantuu, often joked that any motorists who refused to signal, drove purposely slow, or otherwise swerved into the shoulder unnecessarily must have gone to the “Ron Hamilton School of Driving and Lesson Teaching.” But in all seriousness, ! 38!important thing was for me to understand the inequities facing Aboriginal people in the modern treaty process.  I would come to learn that irreverence and spontaneity were driving forces in Chuuchk=amalthnii’s life.  He put energy into his passions, and this means an uninhibited, though not to say undevoted, way of being, learning, and teaching others about the nature of the world. From the ferry we arrived in Nanaimo after dark.  We began to travel northwest on Highway 4, eventually exiting the “super highway” toward the Westcoast.  We passed Whiskey Creek, the last major stop before heading over “the hump”—the mountain, called Kalthk=achulth—which creates a boundary between the Huupach’esat-h= and Coast Salish.  Chuuchk=amalthnii explained that the people from the other side of the mountain were called Uusapat-h=.  Names for tribal groups, I was beginning to learn, have everything to do with place: Uusapat-h= means, “people who come from the other side of the mountain,” while Huupach’esat-h= means, “People who come from elevated big houses.”  “At-h=,” the suffix found on every tribal name, translates as “the people who come from.” Where one comes from—the place—is integral to identity; this cultural fact is thousands of years deep, fixed in language.     As the road narrowed and we began wriggling through the curves of the winding highway, Chuuchk=amalthnii pulled off to the right.  A sign read: “Beaufort Picnic Site,” and we stepped out of the car into the darkness to walk down to the pea gravel by the water. Chuuchk=amalthnii told me the real name of this place was Hat’a, which means, “You can bathe !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Chuuchk=amalthnii’s refusal to conform to any kind of “rule”—social, governmental, or otherwise—was part of a larger agenda in subverting colonialism.  These rules were imposed, and he was not willing to be submissive to any government, institution, or person that was not part of his understanding of Nuuchaanulth tradition. ! 39!here anytime.”  He wanted to stop here for a number of reasons, but for one thing, Hat’a marks the entrance to Huupach’esat-h= territory.  Because I first came to Huupach’esat-h== territory with Chuuchk=amalthnii, I initially developed relationships with the people he was close to—this generally meant his relatives and Ha’wiih= (ranked chiefs).  I am sure there are many people I did not become close to because of community and family politics.  It is important to acknowledge this—no anthropologist can document every single perspective.  Research is shaped by social relationships.  There is no doubt that Chuuchk=amalthnii played an important role in my introduction to Nuuchaanulth communities and this shaped people’s perceptions of me.  My appearance, age, nationality, gender, and status—both as a student and my perceived class status—were all important factors in my reception.  Chuuchk=amalthnii’s personal history on the Westcoast—of which I was mostly unaware upon entering the field—also had an affect, at least initially, on how I was viewed as a researcher.  People’s own histories and experiences with anthropologists, students, and other White visitors to the coast also held influence.   Susan Golla, also a Ph.D. student, upstate New Yorker, and in her mid-20s when she arrived in the Valley to begin fieldwork in 1976 remembered in her field notebook: “The Indians here are a lot more sophisticated in the ways of anthros than most non-anthros. They know the difference between anthropology and archaeology, for example, and use words like ‘taboo’” (Golla APS M.S. 389, July 19, 1976). During her first meeting with George Clutesi, a well-respected Tseshaht painter, historian, and story-teller, she remembered: “He sat down, looked me in the eye, and, absolutely without malice said, ‘I’m not going to tell you anything… By the time I left he was saying, ‘You’ll have to stay a long time before people will tell you anything.’ … ‘We’ve told our people not to talk to anthropologists anymore because of what ! 40!they’ve done to us’” (ibid).  Susan Golla and Chuuchk=amalthnii did not get along, and she lamented her correspondence, “he went out of his way to make me feel unwelcome” (Golla, APS MS #89; June 8 1976 Susan Golla to Victor Golla). Chuuchk=amalthnii’s reputation amongst anthropologists meant I had already received “warnings”: inspired by Dr. Townsend-Gault’s course, I wrote a preliminary research proposal for my PhD to study Nuuchaanulth ceremonial textiles. Shortly thereafter, a faculty member in the UBC department of anthropology approached me: “I need to talk to you about this proposal. Have you met [Chuuchk=amalthnii]22? Because if you haven’t you better be prepared.  Otherwise he is going to crucify you.  I have seen it happen before” (personal communication, 14 Sept. 2009).   Perceptions of Chuuchk=amalthnii, within his own community as well as academia, affected perceptions of me. I learned later, often in conversations with friends in the field, that many assumptions were made about me early on in my fieldwork.  “We know you now, so it’s funny,” I was told.  Just as I was trying to learn and make sense of the people I was hoping to conduct research with, so too were they trying to make sense of me.  Some believed that I was Jewish (like Morris Swadesh, Edward Sapir and Franz Boas who all came to the Alberni Valley before me); that I was having an affair with Chuuchk=amalthnii (36 years my senior); that I must have been part Native, “Because [Chuuchk=amalthnii] really doesn’t like White people.  Are you sure you don’t have a little Indian in you?”23  In a small community rumors circulate and this is part of being an anthropologist—except, it seems, most anthropologists do not put any of this gossip into writing. I think it is important to discuss these taboo subjects: from my experience, if you’re a young woman, it seems, there is greater potential for more !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!22 Chuuchk=amalthnii requested that no reference to his English name be made in this text. All have been omitted. 23 When Susan Golla complained to a Nuuchaanulth friend of Chuuchk=amalthnii’s treatment of her, she was told, “[He] hates all White people” (Golla APS MS #89, field notebook 12/15/1977) ! 41!interesting gossip. Would things have been the same if I were a young man interviewing elderly women?  This is to say that while on the one hand, despite the inevitable gossip, my introduction to the Westcoast was fortuitous—there are many people who opened up to me, contributed to my research, and with whom I became very close. Throughout his life, Chuuchk=amalthnii has surrounded himself with people of cultural knowledge. Without Chuuchk=amalthnii’s introduction, and essentially sanctioning my work, this dissertation would lack a great deal of depth.  As Chuuchk=amalthnii’s son, Saantuu, explained to me in an interview in November 2011: If you met the amount of people who my Dad was their greatest influence in their entire life it's in the hundreds. It could be in the thousands […] My Dad's also somebody who grew up without his father and if you can believe it or not, he was trying to save an entire culture. Everything that he does he feels he is doing to save our culture. So I deeply respect him in that regard.  I have the ability to be able to third person it and just pretend I'm somebody else and just go, "Wow! Look what this guy's done for his community. This guy's like Gandhi" […] I just try to remind myself how much good he's done all the time. When I'm being hard on him I try to remind myself that. He's done a lot of good for a lot of people.   I am indebted to Chuuchk=amalthnii, and in turn, to all those people of knowledge he introduced me to and who have also contributed to this research.  My encounters with people and places on the Westcoast have produced my understanding of places and identities, which I write about in this dissertation.  I arrived as an outsider, and over the course of four years, became a friend and formally recognized as part of a family.  My research also brought me into places away from the Westcoast—that is, museums and archives—other spaces where ideas about Westcoast places, people, and practices are produced and reified.  In these far away sites, I read the words of Huupach’esat-h= and Tseshaat-h= ancestors.  I saw ceremonial materials packed away in boxes.  I tried to make sense ! 42!of information that sometimes contradicted and at other times reinforced what I had learned from K=uu-as in the field. I critically draw from these materials, in conversation with my ethnography, throughout this dissertation. I have endeavored to repatriate the information I found in these archives to the families connected to source materials.  This process has enabled encounters with the past, mediated by anthropological outsiders who recorded what they found important or interesting.  Sometimes these encounters contradict oral histories and contemporary understandings.  At other times, they augment histories known.  Sometimes they provide information that the contemporary generation has never known or heard in their lives.  These encounters, which take place away from the Westcoast in sterile archival spaces, also play a role in shaping perceptions of place and identities in the Valley.   2.3 Before Human Encounter Humans and animals did not always occupy traditional territories as distinct classes of beings. During Iik=h=muut, humans (then referred to as Ky’aimi’mit24 “myth people”), animals, and supernatural beings like Kwatyaat and Enth=tin conversed and maintained close relationships with one another.  Just as places today are produced through social encounter, so too was landscape25—perhaps even more dramatically—produced through frictional encounters among ancient animate beings.  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!24 This name comes from origin stories collected by Franz Boas in the Alberni Valley in 1889. See Boas, Franz (2006 [1895]), Indian Myths and Legends From the North Pacific Coast of America, Bouchard and Kennedy (eds.). Talon Books.   25 I use the term ‘landscape’ to refer to the semi-permanent topography of the Westcoast. Of course no topography is permanent over time—all landscapes are affected by the seasons and other forces like industrialization (mining, logging, fishing, for example).   I use the term ‘place’ to emphasize the more impressionable, malleable, and ephemeral aspects of particular points ! 43!Landscapes on the Westcoast have long been transformed by violence.  In a Huupach’esat-h=26  origin story, mythical superhero character Kwatyaat,27  once observed the Tayii Ha’wilth28  (Head Chief) of the Wolves stealing fish that he collected and kept along his coastline.  In anger, Kwatyaat sought revenge by killing the Wolf Tayii and buried him in the center of his house (Boas 2006 [1895]; Sapir 1939).  When the rest of the Wolf tribe came to investigate the death, Kwatyaat invited them inside, at first claiming illness and denying knowledge of the incident. Soon after all of the Wolves had gathered, he began performing a song with the lyrics, “I am the killer of the Chief of the Wolves”: Then he made great a great bound and jumped out of the circle. The Wolves pursued him. So he stuck the comb into the ground behind him and called out, “Become a mountain.” And this is what happened. When the Wolves had bypassed the mountain and caught up to him again, he poured out some oil behind himself and transformed it into a lake. He made mountains and lakes behind himself four times like this and escaped safely. The mountains and lakes can still be seen today between Sproat Lake and the central part of Alberni Canal. (Boas 2006 [1895]: 247).  It is likely that this origin story is from the Huupach’esat-h=, as it is told from the perspective of Aa-ukw Tl’ikuulth, home of the Tl’ikuulthat-h= tribe of the Huupach’esat-h=.  Boas also recorded that the Huupach’esat-h= had the right to the crest of a Wolf—a right that, because shared among the entire tribe, is likely tied to an origin story such as this.  In this history, landscape is actively transformed after a violent interaction, the origin of which was disrespect for boundaries of h=aah=uulthii (i.e., Wolf stealing Kwatyaat’s fish).  Huupach’esat-h= !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!within a landscape.  Places are bound to moments of human sensorial production and interaction, whereas landscapes provide a more general backdrop.   26 Boas did not keep clear records of which informant contributed which oral history; however, it is known that his research took place in Alberni amongst the Indigenous peoples living there in the 1880s.  I have heard these stories from Huupach’esat-h= elders, which leads me to believe that Boas collected these stories from Huupach’esat-h= informants, rather than Tseshaat-h= ones. 27 Spelled ‘Kwo’tiath’ in Boas’s text. 28 Often, only the word, Tayii, is used to reference the singular person in a leadership role—either a House or larger tribe of people.  It is also the word for the pointer finger and intimates that this person is number one.  ! 44!today, particularly the Tl’ikuulthat-h=, still reference this story.  In the book, World is as Sharp as a Knife: An Anthology in Honour of Wilson Duff, Chuuchk=amalthnii (then, Hupqwatchew), contributed a silk-screen print he designed depicting Kwatyaat with his comb and bladder of oil. In this text, Chuuchk=amalthnii also articulated his understanding of this history and Kwatyaat’s role in transforming Tl’ikuulthat-h= h=aah=uulthii.  Oral histories of Iik=h=muut collected by Franz Boas among the Huupach’esat-h= and Tseshaat-h= was completed over a ten-day period, August 2-12 1889. These histories describe a world inhabited by animals, plants, and Ky’aimi’mit . These inhabitants “knew that they would one day be transformed into people and real animals” (245).  From the sky-world, Kwe’kustepsep (two men transformers) came and transformed all beings into what are now known as animals and humans.  Some of the beings were guarding themselves against the Kwe’kustepsep with knives, shells, spears, and other weapons, but to no avail: the broad knife became the beaver’s tail, the spear the tail of the otter, small sharp shells were imprinted on the forehead of the deer leaving markings.  From the start, resistance was emblazoned on the bodies of Westcoast beings. In the Valley, Tyee Bob told Sapir that place names came from a tribe of female swans (Golla M.S. #89, APS; see also Arima et al. 2009).  The swans became human beings by working the landscape and singing songs.  As the swan women dug for wild onions, they felt the oppressive heat of summer in the Valley.  They sang to ask for relief from sweating, and eventually respite came through transformation into a female human body.  Once the women had gathered enough wild onions and roots, they hosted a feast to name places in Huupach’esat-h= territories.  Tyee Bob listed 158 names that the women gave to specific places and landscape features, mountains, rivers, and creeks. The women named places just as one ! 45!would give names to people: by feasting and giving away wealth from their territories.  It was only after they became human that they named places.  2.4 Producing P lace Through Supernatural Encounter  Not all supernatural creatures were transformed into “real” humans or animals. Many continued (and continue) to frequent the physical world of K==uu-as. Their presence impacts perceptions and senses of place. Drucker (1951) has explained that there were:  many beings (tceha) [ch’ih=aa] who peopled Nootkan territory, and who might be encountered at any time to man’s benefit or peril, as the case may be. It scarcely needs to be pointed out that these beings had as much place in the Nootkan world as did the neighboring tribes, the fish, and the animals of the forest. One soon learns of them, in talking with elderly people, and hears much of their effect on human lives” (152).    Places on the Westcoast are animate with supernatural creatures.  Ch’ih=aa is a kind of catch-all term for many kinds of supernatural, otherworldly beings. Encounters with ch’ih=aa are profound and mark locations, often for many hundreds of years to come depending on the staying power of the accompanying oral record, and on occasion, the talisman acquired through the encounter. These interactions are unexpected and frictional because the encounter unfolds between someone of the physical world and a spiritual being imbued with particular powers and ethereal qualities. Ch’ih=aa have a lasting affect on human lives through frictional encounters that happen in particular places; therefore, these encounters produce the place, and simultaneously shape (from the moment of occurrence and into the future) the family and community’s perception of said place. The prestige of the family who lays claim to the history of supernatural encounter is elevated. Most often, the ha’wilthmis (chiefly wealth treasures) of a family is enhanced because the encounter may produce a new crest image, right to name or add to the significance of the ! 46!tribe’s h=aah=uulthii. A family may display their spiritual wealth–that is, some demonstrations of ha’wilthmis and tuupatii—at a potlatch ceremony.  Spiritual wealth becomes “real” through display and witnessesing.  Those in attendance at a potlatch accept material wealth from the host family, and become obligated to remember what they have seen. Thus, the larger community begins to share a common understanding about the physical place where supernatural encounter occurred. The place becomes indicative of family status, beliefs, histories, and rights to territories and resources and understood by broader social networks.  Keith Basso (1996) has argued that making places is a universal act that invites processes of remembering and imagining.  After making places (and being made by places), people appropriate places by giving them names.  Thus, phenomenological senses of place become the possessions of individuals, and extend later to communities.  In the case of the Nuuchaanulth, social organization is hierarchical and rooted in families, following a system of male primogeniture.  While individuals are acknowledged as having supernatural encounters, these events become the property of a family, and enhance the general prestige of the Uushtak=imthl (House group). The individual’s experience produces place (or reference to place), yet the ongoing, unfolding history of this event and place ultimately transition to become the property of a family.  The story of the place guides the broader public’s understanding of the past, which becomes embedded and enmeshed in the landscape.  One way to memorialize these events, and to aid in remembering, is to give a place name. A place name produced through supernatural experiences of specific ancestors is not uncommon in Nuuchaanulth territories.  The following example is a story told by Muchalat Peter and Mrs. Mary Amos recorded in the 1947 field notebooks of Philip Drucker:  There was a man, Ah’tsasmi’a, who had a d. [daughter], Ya’aiyaqse—he was always thinking of what to do.   Qaqiwioqa was his wife’s name.  He was telling about these ! 47!things.  Then he and his wife died.  When Ya’aiyaqse parents died she went to Tsaxhuis to live.  So one morning she went out along to get cedar bark.  She took a yew (wi’tapt) stick to pry the bark loose (sah hai yak). She was going along and came out by a little stream.  She saw something like a bear head in the water.  It seemed to be closing its eyes. (Before she went there, they’d heard what they called ts’hai’atu-something that made a noise, but they’d never seen it). She took her stick and poked it- it made a noise.  She did again. Then she went on and got her load of cedar bark. She made it into a pack and started home.  She got tired and sat down to rest, ft. [feet] out, leaving on pack.  She saw some ft. [feet] step over her legs.  After it got a little way off she could see it was a ya’ai.  The old people used to say it was bad to see just one.  The girl became scared, waited to see if she would faint, etc., but she didn’t.  Then she came home. She didn’t tell what she had found.  She ate and went outside.  She looked across the river, and on a ledge on the cliff opposite she saw 10 persons.  She called out for the people to come look—she pointed and said “Maybe it’s ya’ai” (she knew very well it was, because she’d already found some).  The young men used to say Where? She’d point them out, but no one but her could see the ya’ai.  This way she got the name [Y]a’aiyaksa (ya’ai twice).  Nawa’asum was the name they gave to the place.  They still call the place Nawa’asum—the place where the ya’ai were sitting “looks just like it’d been fixed.” (Drucker 1947: NAA Box 5:2; 137-138)  Ya-aiyaksa’s experience in witnessing the 10 ya’ai was hers alone—no other individual could see what she witnessed. At first, this may seem at odds with Basso’s argument that relating to place is a social activity, where “places are sensed together” (Basso 1996:109). While Ya-aiyaksa was the only one to see the phenomenon, her supernatural experience was witnessed by the young men accompanying her; therefore, the place name signals a community experience of observing an individual’s supernatural experience.  Ya-aiyaksa’s experience became communal property, just as the newly crafted name, Ya-aiyaksa, would also someday become property of future generations in her family following her death.  One challenge for academic researchers is to understand how expressions and articulated senses of place relate to particular worldviews, “as outward manifestations of underlying systems of thought” (Basso 1996: 110).  Chuuchk=amalthnii has frequently explained to me that in Nuuchaanulth spirituality, individuals may have contact with messengers of the Four Great Spirit Chiefs: H=ilthsuu-is H=a’wilth (Great Spirit Chief Under ! 48!The Sea), H=a’wii-im (Great Spirit Chief On The Land), H=aalthapii H=a’wilth (Great Spirit Chief In The Sky), and H=a’wilthsuu-is (Great Spirit Chief Beyond The Horizon).29 Ya’ai are considered messengers of H=a’wii-im, and it is not expected that all people have the ability to witness, or interact, with these messengers.  In the event that someone does, it is heralded and memorialized.  In the case of Ya-aiyaksa, the commemoration of this event occurred through place-naming and acquisition of a personal name. The landscape, and the spiritual component enmeshed within, is alive and in a relationship with human inhabitants. This is not unlike what Fredrica de Laguna (1972) found among the Yakutat Tlingit: the significance of human-landscape connections is articulated through place names that also connect people to their past (58).  What is the relationship between place names and personal names? Although Drucker did not record any information about the name, Ya-aiyaksa, it obviously derived from the word, ya-ai. Nuuchaanulth names, like other forms of expressive culture, are the exclusive property of familial groups, held in trust for a family by its Tayii.  Susan Golla (2000), who worked with Tseshaat-h= and Huupach’esat-h= 1976-1993, acknowledged that “New names could be coined in reference to dreams, supernatural encounters, or deeds of renown: once in the system, however, these names were also transmitted along strict lines down the generations” (163).  Ya’ai are one kind of spirit messenger of H=awii-im. “It is our belief that creativity comes from H=a’wilthsuu-is, the Great Spirit Chief from Beyond The Horizon,” Chuuchk=amalthnii has told me. “And one way we !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!29 Philip Drucker (1950) described a similar system of deities from interviews with northern Nuuchaanulth tribes. “There was a belief, common to all the tribes, in the ‘Four Chiefs’—Above Chief (hai’>epi ha’wi> or ha’wi>ai’i>am), Horizon Chief (ha>su’is hawi> or ha’wi> su’isai), Land Chief (hai’ya’a’ai ha’wi> or ha’wi>ume), and Undersea Chief (ha>aso’s ha’wi> or hinaso’s tce ha’wi>). Men called on them in prayers during bathing rituals, but never attempted to explain their powers or domain” (152).  ! 49!receive messages from beyond the horizon is through our dreams.” Over the years, Chuuchk=amalthnii and I have shared our dreams, and his journal entries for each day begin with a description of the previous night’s encounter with H=a’wilthsuu-is.  If we haven’t spoken for a while, he takes his journal and reads to me from the pages.  In the summer of 2012, I asked him about the names that have come to him in dreams. “I would estimate that in my lifetime I’ve received 20 names through dreams.  They’re mine. I own those names. Because they came to me in dreams, I can give them to whomever I think appropriate.” Other names come from long histories and lines of descent.  Some names are so ancient they may be no longer translatable30 and their origins no longer remembered.  The head of a house has the ability to place a name onto someone, and this usually happens at a feast or potlatch where witnesses have been formally thanked for their role in remembering names as part of the oral record.   Dreams are places where supernatural and human worlds collide in the mind. Names that come from dreams are an abstract form of place-naming. Each dreamt name references a point of meeting between the supernatural world of Ha-wilthsuu-is and an individual. Sapir (1922) documented the dream encounter that produced the name, Sayach’apis (Stands-Up-High-Over-All):  The first Nootka chief to bear the name, obtained it in a dream. He was undergoing ritualistic training in the woods in the pursuit of “power” for the attainment of wealth, and had not slept for a long time. At last he fell into a heavy slumber, and this is what he dreamed: The Sky Chief appeared to him and said, “Why are you sleeping, Stands-up-high-over-all? You are not really desirous of getting wealthy, are you? I was about to make you wealthy and to give you the name Stands-up-high-over-all.” The ironical touch is a characteristic nuance in these origin legends.  And so the name, a supernatural gift, was handed down the generations (298).    !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!30 Due to linguistic shift over many thousands of years. ! 50!Therefore, personal names, like place names, are produced through encounters with messengers from the spiritual realm.  These messengers may take the form of a being, such as the ya’ai, or the form of remembering, like the dream.  Dreams are partial, and epitomize the dialectical tension between remembering and forgetting.  They slip away, just as the horizon does when moving toward it. It is the place beyond the horizon where Ha’wilthsuu-is resides. Dreams also reappear, in moments of remembering—what in the West is often termed “déjà-vu”—points of encounter with something remembered from another realm.  In this way, personal names may sometimes appear not so much from physical places, per se, but from the place that cannot be a place: a place of slippage, of moving towards but never reaching, of the spot that is beyond the horizon and impossible to meet in physical reality.  Dreams are a frictional moment of encounter.     2.5 Early Colonial Encounters  with Maatmalthnii Before European contact, Nuuchaanulth people lived as autonomous tribes in their particular winter and summer village sites.  People migrated with the seasons, women moved to different communities through marriage, warfare affected ownership and occupation of territories, and a complex trade network connected Nuuchaanulth tribes with each other, as well as other Indigenous populations on Vancouver Island and along the coast of what is now known as mainland British Columbia, Alaska, Washington, and perhaps even as far south as Oregon and California.    Encounters between Nuuchaanulthat-h= and Maatmalthnii on the Northwest Coast began as economic interaction with trade vessels visiting the coast and later establishing trading posts.  ! 51!Russians met with Northern groups as early as 1741,31 Juan Pérez anchored offshore of Nootka Sound in 1774, and Captain James Cook anchored near Friendly Cove in March of 1778.   By the 1790s, merchant ships from Europe and North America participated in the lucrative sea otter pelt trade. How did these early trade encounters produce new places and perceptions of territory?  Doreen Massey (2005) has argued that space is a process and emerges through interrelationships and interactions (9).  What expectations did Nuuchaanulth people have of the ships that came to their shores from beyond the horizon? What were their understandings of new/strange phenomena, and how did this shape understandings of place?  What sense of place did explorers, traders, officers and crewmen come to understand, and how did their presence entangle with ongoing place-making processes of Nuuchaanulthat-h=?  Menzies (2014) uses the transformation of high-ranking Gitxaa>a name, He:l, as a “demonstration of active engagement with newcomers and a testament to the continuity of traditional practices and intellectual frameworks” (324).  In other words, encounters between Indigenous people and visitors to the Northwest Coast were about negotiation and transformation.  For example, the Gitxaa>a name, He:l, was both an ancient and new name: it had belonged to an ancient ancestor and was part of a longer, high-ranking name.  The name was given during the encounter because it was also the name of Captain Hale, the first European to make contact.  Over the 19th century, He:l became the highest-ranking Gitxaa>a name and eventually became the name of “amalgamated high-ranked Gispuwada houses” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!31 This is the earliest recorded date.  It is entirely possible that the Russians were trading up and down the Northwest Coast long before this date, though records of these interactions do not exist.  The collection of material culture from Cook’s voyage to Nootka includes artifacts from much further north (Aleut and Tlingit).  So whether or not Nuuchaanulth people encountered Russians prior to Cook’s arrival, they did have access to networks of exchange that would have included Russian trade goods. ! 52!(324).  Menzies uses the example of He:l to illustrate the push and pull of colonial encounter and the agency of Indigenous frameworks, which continually shape encounters and reshape memories of encounter.  He:l was a product of encounter, and its transformation over time (shift in status, from an individual to House name) parallels other byproducts of colonial encounter (e.g., amalgamation, strengthening of certain affiliations, etc.).    Likewise, Nuuchaanulthat-h= framed early encounters through their systems of thought and ontological beliefs. Some Nuuchaanulth people may have understood the arrival of early ships as supernatural events (see Clayton 2003:144-147).  In 1774, Juan Pérez’s ship, Santiago, appeared from beyond the horizon to anchor 10 miles off the coast of Nootka Sound.  Nuuchaanulth people were aware of the ship’s presence, but refused  “to come near regardless of how much they were called” (Beals 1989: 88).  What would it have meant to encounter a spiritual messenger of H=a’wilthsuu-is in the real, rather than dream, world?  What kinds of expectations did Nuuchaanulth people have about the moving object that appeared off shore, coming from the place that is beyond the horizon?    In 1792, botanist José Mariano Moziño (1991) spoke with people at Nootka Sound about their experience of encounter 18 years prior.  He wrote, “even now they testify that they were seized with fright from the moment they saw on the horizon the giant ‘machine’ which little by little approached their coasts” (66).  They believed it was “Qua-utz” coming to their shores.  Eventually, the canoes that ventured out to inspect the “machine” made contact, and did participate in material exchange with Spaniards. A number of early accounts mention a deity, or perhaps a spiritual messenger, called “Qua-utz.”  Philip Drucker (1951) claimed his “modern informants” knew nothing of this name. Qua-utz—likely spelled phonetically in these early accounts—sounds like Kwaa-uuts, ! 53!the Nuuchaanulth word for grandchild.  In my fieldwork, I have been told that when a child is born, their thli’mak=sii (spirit/life-force), falls from the place beyond the horizon—Taa’winisim (The Milky Way)—into the body of the newborn baby as it comes into the world.  One possible explanation for early accounts recording the term “Qua-utz” is that Nuuchaanulth people were referencing grandchildren not yet born. Another possibility that Chuuchlk==amalthnii suggested to me is that they were referencing the Kwaa-uuts of H=ilthsuu-is H=a’wilth. In both cases, the Kwaa-uuts (those grandchildren not yet born, or the grandchildren of H=ilthsuu-is H=a’wilth) would be living beyond the horizon, and though not deities, residents of the realm beyond the horizon from which it appeared these ships were traveling.  Spiritual beliefs about birth and death show how occupation of place depends on life-stage and identity.  Places go beyond terrestrial and marine territories of the Earth, and into starry constellations of the galaxy. For the Nuuchaanulthat-h= of Nootka Sound, experiences of previous encounter shaped expectations of later arrivals (Clayton 2003: 149-150).  The oral record, as recounted by Tla-o-quiaht32 elder, Mrs. Winifred David (1978), clarifies indigenous perceptions of Captain Cook and his ships’ arrival:  They went out to the ship and they thought it was a fish come alive into people… one white man had a real hooked nose, you know. And one of the men was saying to this other guy, ‘See, see…he must have been a dog salmon, that guy, there, he’s got a hooked nose’ […] So they went ashore and they told the big Chief: ‘You know what we saw? They’ve got white skin.33 But we’re pretty sure that those people on the floating thing there, that they must have been fish.  But they’ve come here as people.’ (54).   !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!32 The late Winifred David was Tla-o-quiaht by marriage, but of the Tl’ikuulthat-h= clan of the Huupach’esat-h= by birth. 33 Chuuchk=amalthnii has critiqued his paternal Aunt Winifred David’s analyses, arguing to me that these men would not have had white skin after traveling to the Westcoast from Hawaii and being aboard ships, exposed to sunlight refracting off of the ocean waters.   ! 54!Another Nuuchaanulth elder, Gillette Chipps (1978), elaborated, “Pale face white man, they said it was the dog salmon and oh that’s a spring salmon […] they seen lots of cohoes aboard that boat. Red-faced men, big nose, and so they said it was Coho. That was when the first white man appeared in Nootka Sound in the schooner” (55).  The negotiation of this interaction by Nuuchaanulth people, like the encounter with Perez’s vessel, was informed by pre-existing spiritual beliefs.  Oral records of Cook’s encounter, unlike Peréz, suggest that Nuuchaanulth people believed they may have been messengers of H=ilthsuu-is H=a’wilth (Great Spirit Chief Under The Sea) rather than H=a’wilthsuu-is (Great Spirit Chief from Beyond the Horizon). Drucker (1951), explained that Nuuchaanulthat-h= believed in an “Undersea-world not far off the Vancouver Island shore that everyone knew about, for it was there that the Salmon-people and the Herring-people lived, each tribe occupying half of a great house” (151).  These beings, “lived there ‘just like people,’ in human form when they donned their salmon (or herring) guises, which they put on or took off like robes” (ibid).  The journals kept by Cook and his officers are clear that Nuuchaanulthat-h= from the area were quick to approach the ship, friendly and not fearful.  This is in contrast to the 1774 remembrances, later collected by Moziño, where Nuuchaanulth people recalled immense fear of what appeared from beyond the horizon. Additionally, Drucker found that “There was really an infinity of dangerous beings lurking in the woods,” whereas “the waters contained fewer perils” (153-4). These beliefs may be why Captain Cook ([1784] 1967) initially observed “the people came off to the Ships in Canoes without shewing the least mark of fear or distrust” (295), suggesting any prior fears may have been assuaged.  Nuuchaanulthat-h= and the visitors who anchored off of their shores had different understandings about each other, where they were coming from, and why.  Disparate ! 55!understandings produced frictional encounters.  Perhaps one of the most interesting clashes of worldview in the Nootka Sound encounter took place on 21 April 1778.  On board the Resolution and Discovery were a number of farm animals, including sheep and goats.  Expectedly, these animals needed fresh feed after the long voyage from the South Seas.  Cook remembered an area of grasses in one of the v