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Learning models in the Umeek narratives : identifying an educational framework through storywork with… Atleo, Marlene R. 2001

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L E A R N I N G M O D E L S I N T H E UMEEK N A R R A T I V E S : IDENTIFYING  AN EDUCATIONAL FRAMEWORK THROUGH  S T O R Y W O R K W I T H FIRST NATIONS E L D E R S  By M a r l e n e R . Atleo  B.H.E., The University of British Columbia, 1988 M.A., The University of British Columbia, 1993  A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL F U L F I L L M E N T OF T H E REQUIREMENTS FOR T H E D E G R E E OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY In THE F A C U L T Y OF G R A D U A T E STUDIES (Department of Educational Studies) We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard.  The University of British Columbia June 20.01 © Marlene Renate Atleo, 2001  I n p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t of the r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r an advanced degree a t the U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree t h a t the L i b r a r y s h a l l make i t f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e and s t u d y . I f u r t h e r agree t h a t p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e c o p y i n g of t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y purposes may be g r a n t e d by the head of my department or by h i s or her r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . I t i s u n d e r s t o o d t h a t c o p y i n g or p u b l i c a t i o n of t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l g a i n s h a l l not be a l l o w e d w i t h o u t my w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n .  Department of The U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia Vancouver, Canada  Abstract  This study uses First Nations storywork to investigate indigenous learning. If cultural strategies were persistent and fundamental to the survival of a people, it would seem that understanding Nuu-chah-milth learning orientations would provide emancipatory insight for First Nations learning in contemporary educational settings. Understanding what was and what is allows an envisioning of what could be. Therefore narratives about Umeek, the "community provider", the archetypal "go-getter", were read as a conceptual framework in which to identify learning orientations of Nuu-chah-nulth First Nations. The investigation had three foci. First, a protocol for First Nations cultural work was formulated and elaborated. This protocol was used as an overarching framework for the gathering of the stories, the interview process and the narrative analysis. Second, ethnographic and oral versions of Umeek narratives were gathered. Third, these narratives were read Nuu-chah-nulth elders cultural beliefs about learning for past and present success in a Nuu-chah-nulth life career (i.e. providing/achieving). Narrative deconstruction and metaphorical mapping served to identify and describe aspects of learning salient in the teachings of Umeek narratives. A full complex of learning archetypes emerged balancing innovation and conservation in an economy of change. Eight archetypal learning models were identified: the innovative transformational learner, the collaborative transformational learner, the directed lineage learner, the developmental learner, the cooperative learner, the resistant observational learner, the collaborative resistant learner, and the opportunistic observational learner. Themes which emerged central to Nuu-chah-nulth First Nations learning ideology and knowledge construction were: grandparents provided the ii  foundation of learning, oosumch (ritual bathing) provided motivational management, partnerships permitted collaboration, ancestor names provided orientation and sacred sites provided frames for experiences. Nuu-chah-milth learning theory was articulated in a storywork framework that provided insight into Nim-chah-nulth pedagogy: hence, it needs to be understood in the context of Nim-chah-tmlth education. First Nations educational theory and learning models that are operating in communities need to be understood in the context of current education. Western schooling may not satisfy Nuuchah-nulth learning needs for transformation and strategic knowledge. Storywork is important in de-colonizing First Nations sensibilities in the process of self-determination in education, counseling, life career development, and healing.  iii  Table of Contents Abstract  ii  L i s t of Figures  viii  Dedication  ix  Acknowledgements  x  Prologue  xii  C h a p t e r I - Sorting the Stories in M y  Qa?uuc  2  Purpose of this Ma'mook  4  Background to the Problem  6  Raising the Muyapilum - A Conceptual Map of this Study  11  Limitations of the Study  12  Cultivating an Ethos of Orality  13  Reaching into the Past to Find the Future  14  In the Socio-cultural Territory of the Story  22  Hisuk-ish-tsa 'walk: Everything is One - Unity of All  24  4 Rs and 4 Ds of First Nations Storywork  24  Impact of Colonial Relations on Storywork  25  Unfolding of the Statuses of the Nmi-chah-mdth Life Career  30  Summary  33  C h a p t e r II -  Qa'uuc and Tupperware - G r o u n d i n g the Dialectic  ;  First Nations Cultural Ideologies  34  39  The 4R's and 4D's: Principles to Live By  40  Moving through Modernity towards Postcoloniality: Changing Life Careers  45  Container Logics: Cloudscapes, Cat's Cradles, Baskets and Bodies  48  Materializing Logics: Movies, Appliances and Tupperware  55  Embodiments of Landscape: Embodiments of Text  57  A Postcolonial Order: A Better Body/Text Fit  63  Mythic Sensibilities  69  Summary C h a p t e r III -  78  Klaaq-ish-peethl - Standards and Sorting C r i t e r i a  Methodology  81  82  Participant Criteria  85  The Interview Procedure  86 iv  The Interviews  87  Method  87  Phenomenological Orienteering: Metaphoric Mapping and Blending  92  Matters of Salience  93  Limitations of Method  97  Expectations of Methodological Outcomes  99  Elements of the Narratological Analysis  99  Summary C h a p t e r I V -Ha?maat-sup  100 - B r i n g i n g O u t the Stories  Conceptual and Theoretical Framework  101  102  Hisvk-ish-tsa'walk - Keeping the Oral Legacies Alive in the Text  106  Bridging Orality and Textuality: A Framework of 4Rs and Ds  107  Records of the Umeek Narratives  Ill  Telling Umeek Stories  115  Tloo-quaa'na - The Wolf Ritual  115  Tseihsot and Tsatsotatlme: Hair Seal Spearing Chiefs  116  Umeek: Creator - Getter-Provider  117  The Death of Umeek  119  In the Tradition of Umeek - Oyephl  120  The Wrath of the Head Chief Tseihsot  121  Tseihsot Slays Oyephl  122  Tseihsot "Transforms" into Tsahwasip the Whale Harpooner  122  Tsahwasip is Foiled by his Spy Tseitlas  124  Tsahwasip Dies of a Broken Spirit/Heart and Loss of Face  125  Whaling Endures after the Rivalry  125  Other Umeek Endings  126  Gendered Participation  127  Elements of the Umeek Narratives  129  Summary  132  C h a p t e r V - Himwic-aqyak  ha-ha-sithls-caap: Paying Attention to the Story  The Consultative Interviews  135  137  Nelson Keitlah  137  Gertrude (Atleo) and Edwin Frank  143  Louie Joseph  149 v  Elsie Little (Atleo) Robinson  155  Summary: Themes Salient to the Elders about Nuu-chah-nulth Learning  160  C h a p t e r V I - L e a r n i n g from Umeek - ? apscii-yuch - G o i n g the Right W a y  Features of Nuu-chah-nulth learning ideology  163  164  Foundations for Learning - Naniiqsu (Grandparents)  164  Oosumsh: The Discipline of Nuu-chah-nulth Learning  166  Ritual Partnerships  169  Names of Ancestors as Orienting Tropes  172  The Frame Effects of the Ritual Site  173  Learning Archetypes of the Umeek Narrative  175  Umeek, the y?uk iiqsu: Innovator and Transformational Learner  177  Umeek's Wife: Collaborative Transformational Learner  182  Oyephl: Transformer's Heir, the Directed Learner  184  Umeek's Vather/Oyephl's Grandfather: Developmental Learner  185  w  The Whaling Crew. Cooperative Learners  :  Tsahwasip, the Elder Ha?w 'il: Resistant Observational Learner Tsdhwasip's Wife: Collaborative Resistant Learner Tseitlas, The Witness/Spy: Opportunistic Observational Learner  187 189 192 194  Discussion  195  Storywork as an Educational Framework for Teaching and Learning  200  Claiming  203  Celebrating survival and teaching through storywork  204  Remembering  206  Re-centering  206  Proactive Involvement  207  Revitalization  207  Naming  208  Charting the return of First Nations knowing  209  Re-reading and re-writing the stories of peoples  210  Summary  211  Conclusion  215  Epilogue  217  References  219  A p p e n d i x A - Glossary  241 vi  A p p e n d i x B - Orthography A p p e n d i x C - Histories of Appendix D -  Ha?w'iih:  244  Ahousaht  249  Securing, Creating and Sustaining  Tyee Ha?w'il Earl Maquinna George  256  256  Umeek, Richard Atleo  261  A p p e n d i x E - M o r e Stories about Umeek  269  The Ethnographers  269  The Novel and Study Guide  276  A p p e n d i x F - Interviews with  Nuu-chah-nulth  Elders  281  Nelson Keitlah  281  Trudy (Atleo) and Edwin Frank  292  Louie Joseph  308  Elsie Little (Atleo) Robinson  323  vii  List of Figures  Figure 1 - Map of the Nuu-chah-mtlth First Nations of Vancouver Island  1  Figure 2 - Phenomenological Field of Metaphoric Mapping  95  Figure 3 - Theory-Data -Model Triangle Metaphor  98  Figure 4 - Learning Archetypes of the Umeek Narratives  177  viii  Dedication  I, ?i-?i-naa-tuu-k iss, Ahousaht-achsup, offer this work with honor and respect as w  my cuu-chal, the dance to welcome the whales of the knowledge economy that have embraced the harpoon and now feast with the Nuu-chah-mdth People. This work is in recognition of the ancestor Umeek and the many incarnations  those who have made  His name great. Most particularly, this is dedicated to my Umeek, Eugene Richard Atleo, the longsuffering partner in my work, in dedication to his steadfastness and endurance over 35 years of partnership in producing children and hunting whales. This work is produced in hope for our children, Shawn and Nancy, Taras and Lorena, and their children, Tyson, Tara, Alexandria and Kwin, as well as their relatives and generations to come. This work is also dedicated to three remarkable elders: Neen, Margaret Grace (Charlie) Atleo, who wove us together into a truly innovated basket that would keep secure the family legacy she had to pass on. Ah-up-waa-yeek, Mark Atleo, who helped me conceive this study but was not able to see its conclusion. Adam Fiilber, my Opa, the tool and die maker for transparent products, from whom I learned how to learn from the queen seat of his shoulders.  ix  Acknowledgements  I am grateful to my committee members who helped me gather the materials for this my storybasket. I appreciate the unique personal and professional histories each contribute to the texture of my basket. Carolyn M . Shields, my advisor, contributed her deep listening, appreciation of tropes, and experience in qu'aas country. Tom Sork, fellow "planner", gifted me with the quiet confidence of a passenger/navigator who has journeyed much and knows that many roads can lead to a final destination. Jo-ann Archibald contributed the knowledge and patience of her Eldership. Sharilyn Calliou contributed through her candor, wit and resilience, in both her presence and absence. I am grateful to the members of communities to which I belong that have lent their support. The Nuu-chah-nulth Elders from Ahousaht who participated with me and gave generously of themselves as a legacy for the future were Trudy and Edwin Frank, Elsie Robinson, Nelson Keitlah, and Louie Joseph. Many Nuu-chah-nulth friends and relatives freely encouraged me with personal and cultural reflections in the process of my work: Florence Atleo, Ruth Arlene Paul, Barney Williams, Jr., Corbett George, Stanley Sam, Doreen and Sidney Sam, Evelyn Atleo, Wilma Keitlah, and Barb Atleo. I am grateful to the Nuu-chah-nulth Tribal Council and the Ahousaht Education Committee for their financial, administrative, and personal support for the duration of my program. I am grateful for support over the years by my community of sister writers: Genevieve Bell, Naomi Caldwell, Barb Landis, Deborah Miranda, Debbie Reese, LaVera Rose, Beverly Slapin, and Cynthia Smith for whom First Nations equity and justice in print is demonstrated in powerful standards through the compelling culture work of their lives. Thanks go to Pam Neel Creasy and the company of women of "Indigena" who afforded me the opportunity to grow in strength and humility. Thanks also go to Valerie-  Lee Ghapman (V-lee), woman, runner, writer, fellow sojourner, teacher, friend and mummy to William, Tizzy, Bertie, and Sam. I am grateful to a group of women, steeped in mythology, earthworks, and artistic innovation, who gifted me with their inspirational companionship on a transformational walking tour of official and personal sacred sites during a week in Paris at UNESCO: Maureen Korp (Sacred Art of the Earth), Adrienne Momi (Earth Goddesses of Eastern Europe), and Betsy Damon (Keepers of the Waters). The many others who pachitl me with their gifts of support, friendship and resources over the years include the always gracious Nancy Turner; the ha?kum, Margaret Anderson; the ever traveling Jean Briggs; the linguist-advocate-editor Victor Golla and Ellen whose collages continue to delight me; the Sointula Rose, Susan; the tenacious John Dewhirst; the poet librarian John Berry and Corsican Midi Berry who is on the move once more. Thank you, Julia Gibson, Mary Haig-Brown and Alan HaigBrown for keeping me balanced in my story about your stories. I am thankful for the many others the Creator placed in my life that provided solace and encouragement on the more solitary nights of my journey. To my families, the Atleos and the Fulbers, I thank you for your love, understanding, and patience. To my husband, lover, friend, Richard, I thank you for your perseverance and faith, particularly in those times when it seemed hardest to bear.  Kleco  Hychqa  Dankeschon  XI  Thank you  Prologue  The- TlOngit story ofthe/Origvny of basketry takeyphxce- after Raven/hayytolen/the/Su^arul/the/Moorii  yo-that the-clay and/the/  night were/ already divided/. He/hcuL/yetth&tuleyiY\/Mxytio^ cycles offish/.  In/thoye- dayy, there/lived/a/be<M4ttfvd/WOrv^^  cloved/ vdlc^ge- that way desired/ by all/ who- heard/ of her.  Then/Su4V  Spied/her a-nd/atthe/ end/ofthe/ (day whew he/ carwe- to- earth/, he/ trartyfbrmed/ into- a/ marv and/took/ her for hvywife-. They lived/ together a/lomg-Wm/e/in/the-Sky where/they had/many cruldren/whowere- like/ their Earth- wiother. Ay she/watched/her children* yhebecame^ an^ciovcy about their future-. She/ abyent- wiindedly picked/ yorvve/rooty and/be$<in/to-plaitt^  The/  Sun/yaw and/reypected/her anxiety for their children/. He-enlarged/ th^ba^ket UA^Ctil/it wa^larg^ enotitfh-for the- wiother and/her eight children/ who- were- then/ lowered/to- the- Earth- near Yahutat on/ theAlyek/'Ki^er in youthe^x^ern/Alaska/(Paul/, cited/(AVSamuel/, 1987). Thifrthet^y ewCphswiq^ importance- of firyt Natuyriy storyworh. first Natuyrvyytoryworh, Wee/ ba^ketworh iy a/ yawed/ work/, the/etyretylon/ofthe/hcwAyari^ of people/ with- which/to-care- for their offyprir^wi^lA\e/ble^ylnx^of their partnery a^they tie- together the/hea^eny and/the/earth/.  xu  Figure 1. Map of' Nuu-chah-mdth First Nations on Vancouver Island, British Columbia.  Chapter I - Sorting the Stories in M y Qa?uuc  Qa?uuc (pronounced Kaa-oots) is a large open weave Nuu-chah-nulth burden 1  2  basket made of split cedar roots and withes (See Appendix A for glossary of Nuu-chahnulth words and an orthography in Appendix B). As with other Northwest Coast First Nations, in the Nuu-chah-nulth traditional ecological system of knowledge, the cedar tree is considered the "tree of life" (Stewart, 1984). Humiis (red cedar) is a wholistic source of spiritual connection and identification with territory, housing, medicine, canoes, paddles, fishing and hunting implements, fabrics, containers such as boxes, baskets, and bowls, cordage, house posts and totem poles, and other life maintaining products. The cedar roots which form the warp of the qa?uuc (utility basket), draw their nourishment 3  from the temperate rainforest along the windward side of Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada (See Figure 1), that has been home of Nuu-chah-nulth for more than 4,300 years . Withes, air roots, provide strength and flexibility to the weft of the qa?uuc 4  (utility basket). The withes are branchlets or air roots with a cell structure that makes  See Appendix A for Glossary of Nuu-chah-nulth words used in this study and Appendix B for commentary about the orthographic usage. 1  Nuu-chah-nulth (living along the mountains [of the West Coast of Vancouver Island]) is the name chosen in 1982 by the 14 aboriginal First Nations (Southern region: Dilidaht, Huu-ay-aht, Ucucklesaht, Hupa-casaht, Tseshahl; Central Region: Toquaht, Ucluelet, Tla-o-qui-aht, Ahousaht, Hesquiaht; Northern Region: Mowachaht/Muchlaht, Nuchatlaht, Ehaltesaht, Ka:'yu:'K'yt'h'/ Che:k'tles7et'h) that make up the Nuu-chah-mdth Tribal Council. This name was selected to correct the historical error of being labeled Nootka by Captain Cook based on the answer to his request for directions at Friendly Cove. They saw he was lost and told him, nuuk-shilth "go around [the island]", and ergo, he called them Nootka. 2  Warp in basket weaving are the structural elements that run at right angles to each other, typically forming the inner frame of container. The weft is comprised of the structural elements that are twinned over the warp elements to fill in the structural frame. 3  Marshall (1993) reports archeological findings of Mowachaht and Muchlaht settlements.  4  2  them stronger than seasoned cedar wood and amazingly pliable when twisted (Stewart, 5  1984). Between the source and the qa?uuc (utility basket) is the cultured person with the knowledge and skill to transform what is in the environment to sustain 'Nuu-chah-mdth life in its midst. A qa?uuc (utility basket) is carried on the back supported by a tumpline over the forehead to balance the load. The distribution of the weight of the burden basket is thus structurally incorporated into the line of the body. This permits the load to be balanced as part of the alignment of the whole body. Incorporating the burden structurally onto the body through the mechanism of the qa?uuc (utility basket) allows the accommodation of heavy burdens while permitting the hands to be free to engage in other activities. A qa?uuc is a utility basket, a technology which extends the body. In this study, I am using qa?uuc (utility basket) as a tropic device to make 6  salient action principles in a Nuu-chah-mdthfieldof agency or ma'mook . Ma 'mook 7  signifies the purposive action process of the creation of usefulness from the spiritual and material world. The qa?uuc (utility basket) signals pragmatic activity involved in traditional ecological knowledge, social relationships and dynamics of Nuu-chah-mdth The twisted cedar withe was tested and found to have a tensile strength of almost 10,000 lbs. psi (Stewart, 1984: 161). Twisted cedar withe has been translated as "atlyu" or "atleo" or "atl-liu". 5  Trope or figures of speech (e.g., metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche and irony) as they are embedded in fields of cultural meaning and practice (Strauss & Quirin, 1997).  6  According to George Shaw (1909) in "The Chinook Jargon and How to Use It" (p. 15) "Ma 'mook" is the most common word in use according to the data the linguist Eells collected in Puget Sound. It is the "one word denoting action" as a verb and noun with meanings such as: "to make"; "to do"; "to work"; "labour"; "exert"; "exercise"; "act"; "action", "deed", "work", "enact", "appoint", "accomplish"; "make"; "manage"; "operate"; "practice", "resolve", "serve", "use", "toil"; "a job"; "task"; "achieve" (Shaw, 1909). Continuing to quote Eells, Shaw states that it is used generally as a causative verb i.e., ma 'mook chako - "to make to come (bring)"; ma 'mook liplip - "to make to boil"; ma 'mook tumtum - "to think", "reason", "meditate", "reckon", "ponder", "review", "muse", "decide", "determine", "surmise", "plan", "account", "appraise", "elect", "be amazed", "estimate"; "decide"; "deduce"; etc. Ma 'mook as a verb or noun is an important signal of action expected to result in utility. 7  3  culture nested in a system of traditional ecological knowledge in a Nuu-chah-nulth world view. The pragmatic activity in the expanded cultural field of post contact becomes the field in which learning is investigated. Therefore, my investigation of Nuuchah-nulth learning begins with the self-determination of ma 'mook and the orienting content of stories in which learning takes place from a Nuu-chah-nulth vantage point. Qa'uuc in this instance is not merely a utility basket but as an example of "strategic adaptation of body schema that we project onto our environment" (Turner & Fauconnier, 1998: 385) as a product of the creativity of learning. Beginning with an orientation to qa'uuc (utility basket) is a means to foreground Nuu-chah-nulth approaches to learning to permit the exploration of issues that affect Nuu-chah-nulth learning in non-Nuu-chahnullh settings today. While I am working with my Nuu-chah-nulth qa'uuc (utility basket), I nevertheless situate this study in a global indigenous project of de-colonization (with Smith, 1999: 142-161) in which the goal is to understand and emancipate through a process of deconstruction. This study is intent upon celebrating survival through storytelling and testimonies, by drawing on landscapes and tradition, as a means to remembering, connecting and revitalizing. This study is an intervention based on the rereading of western vantage points by examining the representations of colonization, gender, and class. The study is a site where Nuu-chah-nulth voices can rise to help us protect, name, negotiate, re-discover, re-envision, reframe, restore, return, democratize, re-connect, and share by re-claiming a Nuu-chah-nulth perspective of learning. Purpose of this Ma'mook The first purpose of this study is to bring together Nuu-chah-nulth narratives from the ethnographic record, and confirm and /or amend and/or elaborate these texts with Nuu-chah-nulth Elders. Bringing together the narratives about the ancestor, Umeek in 4  one place and testing the ethnographic record through the analysis of the Elders and cultural biowers is a critical first step in validating the stories and exploring them for learning theory. The second purpose is to identify and explore models (or) iterations of life career (including vocational) (re) orientations in these Umeek Narratives. I explored the thesis that Umeek is a Nuu-chah-mdth conceptual framework in which resource attributes are identifiable in the context of social expectations in a manner that constitutes strategic learning. This indigenous conceptual framework has interpretive value for Nuu-chah-nulth adults in that it is comprised of learning archetypes, models, or iterations identifiable as strategies for achievement in the life career development of ancient and contemporary Nuu-chah-nulth. Because these archetypes, models, or iterations have adaptive, and survival value, they have explanatory power for Nuu-chah-nulth learning theory, Nuu-chah-nulth education and Nuu-chah-nulth life career counseling. Explanatory power is needed for Nuu-chah-mdth to reduce the ambivalence of the colonial experience by a revitalization of a Nuu-chah-mdth perspective that may serve to bring more balance into social and cultural life through bi-focal vision (Archibald, 1997) that moves beyond orality and textuality into different ways of perceiving the world. Consequently, in this chapter, I begin my project by presenting the vision of my ma'mook by introducing the problem and purpose of my study, providing an overview and situating myself in a reflective field of cultural meanings. The second chapter prepares the ground through re-readings of historical and cross-cultural vantage points. The third chapter explains the development of a methodological framework in which several approaches are delineated with which to explore the historically and culturally situated stories about Umeek. The fourth chapter introduces and presents the narratives. The fifth chapter includes interviews with the Elders in which they comment on Nuuchah-mdth beliefs about learning relative to the stories. This chapter also contains an  5  analysis of the narratives. The final chapter presents a discussion of the findings, conclusions about how understanding First Nations learning models may be useful in achievement motivation, and recommendations intended to illustrate ways and means to incorporate the learning models of First Nations people into existing social, educational, health, and career programming. Background to the Problem The absence of Nuu-chah-mdth learning theory in current educational literature is a problem for Nuu-chah-mdth educational participation and achievement. The problem of learning by aboriginal people in a formal education setting has historically been framed from a deficiency perspective based on formal school performance in a Euroheritage tradition. The Canadian school system has historically framed the misfit between First Nations students and schooling as a matter of inherent competencies. But the failure goes deeper than assessments of de-legitimation (Goddard, 1997), cognitive style, power relations, community control or lack thereof, or emic curriculum development which have typically been framed as a matter of competence. Cultural learning strategies can only be recognized as "styles" without substance when taken out of cultural contexts. First Nations achievers speak of wresting their learning from often hostile and alienating contexts, "word warriors", achieving despite the educational system (Huff, 1997). E . R. Atleo (1993) said that traditional education produced Nuu-chah-mdth people who functioned successfully in a changing world because they knew how to get what they needed through cultural means of learning. The problem is that such cultural orientations to means of learning are not systematically acknowledged or considered in the construction of First Nations education that begins with a Euroinstitutional perspective of the world.  6  "Getting" is a central metaphor in the hunting economy of societies such as Nuuchah-mdth. This metaphor could then represent a central cultural orientation. As the provider, Umeek, is an archetypal Nuu-chah-mdth "getter"; consequently, stories about Umeek should provide some clues about learning strategies for achievement, "getting". In this investigation, I read the Umeek narratives for ways and means of Nuu-chah-nulth learning. This is introduced in a storytelling context of ma'mook, as an organizing script, and qa?uuc (utility basket), the trope, which suggests the many different contexts in which learning can be apprehended by thinking about the problem through the analogy of story baskets as identified in Archibald (1997). Qa?uuc (utility basket) were an intimate part of the daily life of women. The utilitarian nature of the basket was intimately tied to instrumental activities, imbuing it with powerful meanings. Nan Margaret Atleo (my husband's paternal grandmother) had a qa?uuc (utility basket) that she kept in her smokehouse. Alt-maXuuhas (?iy'ikilamo?oq a, Ahousaht; ?ihikyuu, Mowachaht; ?i?issu?il, Ucluelet), the ogress of w  Nuu-chah-nulth stories, abducted children who were mystified and strayed because they did not heed their cultural teachings. She easily caught them, glued their eyes shut with pitch and carried them in her giant qa?uuc (utility basket) to captivity in her house where she expected to eat them. Oa?uuc (utility basket) were containers in which to collect food, seafood such as clams, mussels, and fish. Because of the open weave, the water could drain from the foods and they could be washed clean of sand and extraneous debris. The open weave allowed the air to circulate around other gathered material such as reeds, and grasses, or cedar that needed to dry. Oa?uuc (utility basket) were light, yet strong for carrying firewood, cedar bark, grasses, bullrushes, berries, roots, accommodating whatever was required. Into this receptacle would be gathered large quantities of resources from the field or woods or seashore to be brought home for processing into 7  products useful for cultural life. While materials that were gathered for processing into cultural goods were often material resources, sometimes they were symbolic resources such as the narratives that abound in the storied territories and lives of Nuu-chah-nulth. The technological complex in which the qa?uuc (utility basket) is embedded can thus be best described as including both material and symbolic aspects of living/the "hardware" and "software" of culture. The qa?uuc (utility basket) was most associated with the gathering work of women and as a container can be seen as a primary material technology of women. Women not only used the basket but also embodied the very form, shape and design for technically specialized baskets. They would produce and animate these containers with the characters of their own sensibilities and stories. "[WJeaving a basket" is the analogy for the cultural work of storytelling used by Archibald (1997) in her thesis Coyote Learns to Make a Storybasket: The Place of First Nations Stories in Education. In her thesis, she develops the relationship between the intricacies of weaving and the intricacies of storytelling to illustrate the intertwining of the material and symbolic aspects of cultural life. Baskets represent both the material and symbolic realms of culture. Baskets may be seen to represent the earth, art and/or technology. Baskets are of the earth from which their components are harvested. Baskets are borne of technology, art through the hands that process the materials, and weave them. Baskets provide cultural meaning through their utility and their production. Finally, baskets are biodegradable, returning to the earth when their usefulness is over. Baskets can also be seen figuratively. They can be a metaphor for both the cycle of material and spiritual culture. The act of weaving a basket is simultaneously a metaphor and a metonymy, the outcome of which demonstrates material cultural competency. The  8  act of weaving a story may be seen as an act of symbolic cultural competency. In this work, I draw on Archibald's trope and seek to extend it. 8  While Archibald and I both employ basket tropes, what she and I do may be seen as similar on one hand and different on the other. Archibald (1997) discusses a way to create stories in the Salishan cultural tradition as a means of bringing contemporary Canadian justice issues into the curriculum of a modern classroom shared by both First Nations and non-First Nations children and teachers. In my interrogation of the stories that I have gathered over the years in my qa?uuc (utility basket) from Nuu-chah-nulth Elders or that have been presented as Nuu-chah-nulth in the ethnographic record, I ask whether the stories carry teachings about learning and whether they would be useful in the classroom to Nuu-chah-nulth and other students. These stories remain in my qa?uuc (utility basket) after other debris has been accounted for through the research process. The principles of these stories shape the utility basket of my life and cultural work from the standpoint of being an Ahousaht-achtsup (Ahousaht woman). As a woman originating outside Nuu-chah-nulth culture who has been explicitly schooled in cultural expectations through lineage participation, food gathering, marriage, and parenthood, I acknowledge such stories as they have been given to me as learning tools for my living, my Nuu-chah-nulth storywork. In 1995, while working in Ahousaht as the Director and Program Coordinator of the Ahousaht Holistic Society, I observed a discrepancy between the learning approaches of funded programming and community learning requirements. The discrepancy was between learning approaches prevalent in the social programs based in western models of  The anthropological theory of tropes and the conceptualization of polytropes, metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche and irony are central to the management of cultural production from spiritual to material product. 8  9  behavioral and social learning theory and the construction of learning approaches in traditional stories and teachings that were held up as explanations and examples by the Elders. The Elders who were to provide cultural guidance and legitimacy continued to provide stories with cultural approaches to learning. At that time, I approached four lineage Elders to ask whether they thought it might be useful to investigate issues of Nuuchah-nulth learning. They were very encouraging. Moreover, while two of the Elders, Mark Atleo and Roy Haiyupis have since passed on; I comfort myself that they are with me in spirit as I complete the work. Thus my basketwork focuses on weaving an understanding of aspects of learning in the context of traditional narratives about acquiring and securing new food resources in the social and material context of Nuu-chah-nulth culture in the storied past and asking whether they would be applicable today. Lessons about creating new stories and being able to perceive particular aspects of traditional lineage stories are different but complimentary aspects of both Salishan and Nuu-chah-nulth cultural work. Symbolic aspects of culture manage material dimensions of culture. In turn, material aspects of culture manage symbolic dimensions of culture. The dynamic is mediated by the technology and art of culture. In the process of storywork, the technology and art, the symbolic and the material all need to be considered in the context of a worldview which is overseen by a Creator and a philosophy ofHishuk-ish-ts'awalk (Atleo, M . R., 1998), oneness, or the cultural interconnectedness of all things. The material can be simultaneously symbolic or concrete. The social and mythic dimensions of reality interpenetrate each other to the extent that protocol is required to manage their interpenetrations and interactions. Consequently, there is a cultural imperative that this work of managing the sacred and profane, symbolic and material be managed by a protocol of Esaak (respect), in which the power of these continua be conserved rather 10  than dichotomized and disempowered. A protocol of Esaak (respect) aids in exploring Hisuk-ish-ts'awalk as conceptualized by Nuu-chah-mdth but also evidenced in other Northwest Coast cultures such as the multiple realities of the Haida (Boelscher, 1988:7) or the simultaneous realities of the Tsimshian (Seguin, 1984:134) depicted in the uniquely recognizable art forms of the Northwest Coast. A protocol of Esaak (respect) is used to reverently approach the power that exists in the synergistic management of such simultaneous, multiple realities of the worldviews of First Nations people of the Northwest Coast. Raising the Muyapilum - A Conceptual Map of this Study Raising the visual metaphor of respect to show ones position is the first order of a formal public feast. The muyapilum is a ceremonial curtain or screen used by Nuu-chahmdth during public ceremonies to signify the conceptual positioning of the host in the multidimensional contexts in which the ceremonial activities take place. A speaker stands with the host and his or her family to announce the business of the day. Before the potlatch was banned, the muyapilum was a screen visually depicting the history and tupati (privileges) of the hosts that allowed the hosts to situate themselves, combined with seating protocols, relative to all of Nuu-chah-mdth people, history and territory. After the banning of these ceremonies, screens were replaced by readily concealable curtains made of canvas or cotton that was easily transportable. The curtain or screen may be seen as a visual metaphor , which stands for the lineage claims and achievements. 9  In Nuu-chah-mdth public ceremonies, the songs, dances and chants reenacting the claims on the curtain support the display on the muyapilum (ritual curtain). The muyapihim  St. Clair (2000) explores the visual metaphors of indigenous cultures with oral traditions as a different way of knowing. Quaternity, with its common theme of the sacred number four fits prominently in depictions of indigenous ways of knowing and may best be understood as a spaciotemporal starting point. 9  11  (ritual curtain) provides sort of a conceptual map of the interface of the enduring interaction between mythological and social space that serves as a backdrop before which the host enacts the ritual activity as new evidence of these claims. Consequently, it makes sense that the equivalent to my muyapilum (ritual curtain), an overview of the current study be provided to allow the reader to make conceptual sense of this study and guidelines about the organization of the process by which it is conducted. While this study is anchored in Nuu-chah-nulth perspectives, there will be a liberal use of formal textual sources used to provide conceptual bridging, illustration, and clarification of the subject. Limitations of the Study This study examines the learning orientations from the perspective of a small group of First Nations people living on the West Coast of Vancouver Island by examining the Umeek Narratives. As a member of the Nuu-chah-nulth First Nation of Ahousaht, these narratives have been of particular interest to me because they seemed to contain a Nuu-chah-nulth model of learning and orientation to life career (i.e., Umeek) as well as other models of learning for life. The narratives are also of interest because my family, the Atleos, have the right to use the names of the central character in the story because our members have contributed to the whaling tradition/ The manner in which 0  the narrative is interpreted was part of my socialization into the culture of my family of procreation. While these interests may present biases, they may also present a perspective from within the culture that I expect to be valuable for the interrogation of the text for structure, plot, story line, surface themes and patterns of learning.  The tracing of decent from the central character of the legend is flagged by the right to use the name and is associated with attributes passed down through the social capital of the lineage (songs, dances, display rights, names, abilities, etc.). 1 0  12  Cultivating an Ethos of Orality Esaak or respect, requires me to demonstrate how I have gathered-in the social environment of Nuu-chah-mdth in which to ha-maa-tsup (formally reveal)  1 1  - make  visible - stories that are otherwise hidden from a x\on-Nuu-chah-mdth view. Viewed from the seashore, the seasoned eye recognizes the environment in which that which is sought can be found. A special tree or shrub or rock crevice may only be discernable to the seasoned eye. The seasoned eyes of Elders, and those to whom they passed the orientations, guide us to the stories through a process comprised of principles of storywork. Archibald's (1997) close work with the Elders allowed her to become aware of and systematize a protocol for storywork starting with the principles of respect, responsibility, reciprocity, reverence, wholism, inter-relatedness and synergy. She distilled these principles as a conceptual framework for understanding storywork as "cultural work", the creation of cultural products. She used the principles to "weave stories" for purposes of teaching in the public classroom both for a First Nations and nonFirst Nations audience. As such, the stories are formally transported in the curriculum across both cultural and institutional boundaries. I reorganize these principles into structural and dynamic aspects as a means to illuminate movement across cultural and institutional boundaries. I then differentiate between the context in which the stories are embedded, historically and contemporarily  I n Nuu-chah-mdth, Ha-maa-tsup is the formal revelation of anything that is usually hidden or out of ordinary perview. The Hamatsa has been called the "cannibal dance" in the anthropological literature (Boas, 1897). Since both Kwakwakawakw and Nuu-chahmdth have Wakashan linguistic roots it may be possible that there is a connection between the ritual of revealing the transformation of the initiant from a "wild" flesh eater that is outside of the culture (i.e., in the woods) into a cultured human in the context of village society. Hamatsa may be seen as a way to ha-maat-sup the reality that as qu'aas we need to understand our relationships with the spirit of the resources and each other if we are to survive. u  13  and thefiguresthat animate the story. In this way, the context of the story may reveal the components, dynamics, assumptions and principles that the story is conveying. Consequently, to distinguish between the principles that permit the creation, articulation and conservation of structures, I re-systematize Archibald's principles into the "Four Rs" Respect, Responsibility, Reverence, and Relations. The latter entails the "Four Ds" or system dynamics of reciprocity, wholism, inter-relatedness and synergy. Four is a sacred number for Nuu-chah-mdth ; four is an optimal memory byte. 12  Consequently, my reorganization of these principles provides an heuristic, a mnemonic device, for cultural creation or articulation as well as cultural change with transformations. Oral tradition that relies on memory bytes abounds with cultural heuristics as a way of unlocking systems of meaning. When applied to Nuu-chah-mdth social systems, the 4 Rs and 4 Ds provide clues about social protocols in which the "figure of the story" leaps out of the background of the cultural context so that it an be examined for learning strategies. Reaching into the Past to Find the Future My understanding of the principles of First Nations storywork stems from my more than thirty year participation in Nuu-chah-mdth culture in my role as "Mrs. Richard", the wife of the third chief of Ahousaht, Eugene Richard Atleo, the mother of his two sons and heir , grandmother, niece, auntie, cousin, sister-in-law, daughter-in-law, relative and friend. As from time immemorial, women who married into Nuu-chah-mdth households were socialized into the rights and responsibilities of the lineages into which they married. Women who were chosen to marry the heirs of whaling chieftainships  Four or Muu is a sacred concept of fullness/completeness associated with the fullness of the moon in the peak of the influence of the lunar cycle which was tapped into by ritualists. 1 2  14  were expected to have particular attributes that set them apart from other women. Such women were expected to participate with their husband in his rigorous ritual duties and personal sacrifices, as partners in cultural work for the benefit of the lineage membership (Marshall, 1993) . And while there are stories about the difficulties women had in that 13  role, Nan Margaret and the rest of the women and men of the Atleo lineage readily began to sensitize and orient me through storywork into the ethos and social protocols of that position so that I could fulfill the demands of the role. This acculturation into Atleo family roles fit well into an ethos of orality that was familiar and comfortable to me because it was framed in the cultivation of identity in a storied family tradition. I was born in the post WWII years into an extended household on the edge of the Diissel, once a salmon river, which enters the Rhine at Diisseldorf. My roots are of Germanic stock. On my paternal side it is Rheinish, deeply entwined with the rootstock of the grape vines in the steep western slopes of the Rhine near the legendary siren rock, Die Lorelei, and the towns of Bacharach and Bingen before the Rhine widens into the moors and floodplains, further north. On my maternal side, the stock was shallowly rooted in the Eastern most reaches of the Prussian region of Silesia. It was to Silesia that my mother's maternal stock fled from England during the Jacobean era because of their Protestantism. They went into the service of Protestant Germanic landed gentry in successive principalities as managers of forests, households, and in the modern era, as accountants and managers of fabric and steel mills. My mother's paternal stock was from the "melting pot" of that region and carried the dark good looks and almond shaped eyes of the Mongol. Both my maternal Based on the Moachaht narrative about acquiring an Ahousaht wife, Marshall (1993) suggests that the attributes of the wife were a key aspects of the whaler's success. Jonaitis (1999) includes the story oftowek and his Ahousaht wife in which a remarkable partnership is founded that produces whales and hairy wolf-children. 1 3  15  and paternal lineages remembered their histories predating the modern nation state of Germany. These families had suffered in the birth pangs of nationalist claims. During centuries of wars, the Rhineland seemed to change hands regularly in distant agreements about their futures. During the First and Second World Wars, their men saw combat action and their women and children became homeless refugees. The Peace of Versailles redrew the boundaries of a post WWI Germany and the boundaries of the homelands of all of my grandparents changed. My maternal grandparents were given a choice to return from Silesia to a German homeland they had never known or become Polish nationals. My paternal grandparents in the Rhineland were relocated by Allied troops, the terror of which never faded for my father who was 2 years old at the time. These are families that the nation state defined, redefined and failed, repeatedly, even though their household heads served dutifully for Kaiser and country. These families depended upon their own remembrances for their lives. This is my inheritance. My husband's paternal grandmother, uncles and aunts conveyed clear social attitudes about the role they expected me to play as the wife of the lineage heir. The legacy of the whaling tradition carried the responsibility of caring for the resources of the Ahousaht his?o:kt (conquered territory held in common) (Craig, 1998) in a time when colonial oppression tied his hands and denied his birthrights. The cultural expectations for role behavior as a wife and mother were articulated through myth, family stories, their own modeling in tangential roles and behavioral expectations reciprocal to those of my partner. How I would act in the role was, and is, very much an interaction between the cultural expectations for the role and how I bring myself to that role, both my strengths and weaknesses, to make the role rather than merely take the role. As a transcultural person, by the age of eighteen, I had yet not found a social "Home" in which to articulate myself. Consequently, I was ready to become embedded in this position which seemed 16  so familiar and comfortable, for which there were expectations for role behavior, scripts, plots, themes, in short a story in which I could creatively participate by picking the basket material of a cultural tradition and to weave it into a life. Moreover, while I had been born into an entirely different culture, here were some strong structural parallels to my earliest experiences, particularly the early socialization by elders. I had had the earliest advantage of being socialized by my paternal grandparents into an extended family household that provided a warm, welcoming emotional gestalt for my Nuu-chah-mdth experience. This household was headed by my paternal grandparents, he, a highly respected retired Master tool and die maker and his ex-shopkeeper wife. Their eldest daughter, her husband and son occupied the upstairs of the duplex in which we lived. Their youngest son, my father, and his wife, my mother, slept on the pullout couch in the kitchen sitting room. I shared my grandparents' bedroom. They occupied my life with their stories and their grandparent sensibilities and unconditional positive regard for me. Tool and die makers are technicians who create positive and negative moulds for precision instruments for highly specialized tasks. Then retired, my grandfather would conceptually take anything apart, turn it inside out and invent new marvels moment by moment just as he may have done in the glass factory where he worked. The conceptual realm provided none of the structural constraints of the steel and glass with which he had worked. As he wove his thoughts in the air for me, everything was possible. My grandmother came from a glassblowing tradition. She too loved complexity, intricacy and transparency. She was famous in that working class cooperative for her voracious appetite for books. My grandparents had a passion for games and mental challenges which was so constant that the chessboard and cards were never far from the kitchen  17  table. They were always ready to play grown-up games with me even when the pediatrician warned them that they were probably emotionally and mentally over stimulating me. Oma and Opa Fiilber knew everyone in the little settlement where we lived next to the bus stop and everyone it seemed knew them and consequently me. Opa took me along to tend the allotment garden and tether the ewe in roadside ditches. I helped Oma chase the chicken hawks away from the newly hatched chicks and pick the ripe red currants in the backyard. Everyone in the family could imitate the twitchy rabbit noses as they nibbled the grass with which we fattened them up. Best of all these grandparents wove my world together with stories, lots and lots of stories. My life was a sweet, active narrative with them for the first year and a half. Then my grandfather died suddenly and the world shrank to include just grandmother and me. Nevertheless, the stories continued. The settlement folk still stopped to talk and wave as they boarded the bus and again as they saw us on their return. Sometimes they stopped long enough to share a story. "Die Freiheit" was a working class settlement that had started as' a socialist cooperative in the land reform period after WWI during the Weimar Republic (19191933) for veterans and their families (Stadt-Sparkasse Diisseldorf, 1984). These tradesmen settlers were steeped in the oral tradition of storytelling as a remnant of their guild tradition. Their many experiences as journeymen during the itinerant phase of their training before they had acquired a home, family and factory job were important aspects of their occupational learning and teaching. Such remembering was also a way of socializing family members, wives and children, and potential apprenticeships into the situated context of a particular trade. They gathered in a weekly ritual at their local  18  public house to tell their stories. They told stories of the hardships on the factory floor and the process of unionization. They spoke solemnly about their survival during the depression because of the self-sufficiency ethic of the settlement for which they had planned and struggled. They whispered stories of the terror of the Nazi regime. Stories about how their enclave had not been bombed when the city around them had been flattened were told in wonder. Their stories helped them remember whom they were in a period when their community history had been formally denied under the Nazi regime. I was a witness to the way in which stories provided the foundation of identity, resistance and ideals for the people of the venns of the Rheinland, "Die Freiheit." I was an early witness to the power of the process of storywork. Then, when I was almost three, I immigrated to Canada with my parents and younger brother. Even though our household grew over the next 10 years by four more siblings, I yearned for the place and people and being that we had left behind. The loss of grandma and grandpa stories, their wisdom, knowledge, curiosity, and sociability, made me feel poor even as my parents were working for better material opportunities for our little nuclear family. The poverty was about a loss of culture, stories, people, place and history. My loss was so poignant that everywhere we moved, I was a three year old searching for parts of that distant place. Each new town was an opportunity to find grandparents because they were the key to past riches. Sometimes I would find older men and women that served as ersatz grandparents. Moreover, while they had stories, there were many other missing aspects,, as my heart was looking for its Home. By the time I was a teenager we had lived in many cities and towns across Canada. My parents had immigrated to Canada to find a new home but could never replicate the financial and social success of their thriving little tobacconist shop in "Die  19  Freiheit". Both parents had trained in the apprenticeship system that is still prevalent in the highly industrialized Germany of today. My mother had trained as a bookkeeper in a wallpaper factory. My father had trained as a tool and die maker, like his father before him. Both were employment ready for an industrial economy based in manufacturing. In a newly industrializing, post WWII Canada, those opportunities were narrowly defined and linguistically circumscribed. My parents were Germans in a post war Ontario where an Allied British ethos prevailed. I was a 3-year-old "Nazi" on a playground in southern Ontario. The social and occupational opportunities for our family were very poor compared to that of the Marshall plan boom of the post WWII German economy my parents had left. In Germany, we had to share a place to live but my parents had work and the family a social milieu that gave life meaning. In Canada, we could readily find a place to live but my parents could not find employment opportunities equal to those in their homeland. The family had no local social milieu in which to develop social sensibilities around family and work roles. Consequently, as a family we wove our own stories as we journeyed westward and my parents tried to make a life. We sang a song of the highway, we chorused Esso in six-part harmony on the HWY401 from Toronto to Vancouver. Cochrane's song Life is a Highway could have been my parents' theme 14  song and I was a reluctant passenger. By the time I was in my senior year of high school we had moved more than twenty times and I was still searching for a story in which I could participate. The C B C had done an exemplary job of providing a framework for Canadian culture with  "Life is a highway.. .There's no load I can't hold, Road so rough this I know I'll be there when the light comes in, Tell 'em we're survivors" Tom Cochrane (2001). 1 4  20  classroom programming that introduced continuities all along the highway, but it was an official story, not one in which I could find a touchstone. When I was seventeen, I was introduced to a man who could tell stories that had a familiar underlying appeal. He was a university student. He was dark, with almond eyes like my maternal grandfather. He was lean and quick like my paternal grandfather. He was an outstanding storyteller. We courted, telling each other stories at the University of British Columbia/on the geographical "whale's head" that is formed by the bluffs on which the campus rises. It was the foreshadowing of our story. We married and had our first son, who inherited the names of the ritual pieces of the saddle of the whale, the Chakwasi (fin of the whale). The man took me to his home, his territory on the furthest reaches of the sea-lashed west coast of Vancouver Island. It was a place I recognized, with my heart, across cultural boundaries. He brought me to a place where stories were the foundation of history, identity, resistance and ideals. He was the third chief of Ahousaht, who brought me to his territory, which became my Home. Here our two stories became one story. Currently, as Eugene BJchard/Umeek and ?i ?i naa tint ^/'ss/Marlene Renate, we together weave a storybasket that has the diachronic warp and a synchronic weft. Our progression of ritual names situates us in the work of a deep heritage and in contemporary roles whereby we can actively contribute to the heritage by investing in the names of the ancestors in a storybasket of names. It is a storybasket in which the challenges of the bi-cultural heritage of our relationship could be elaborated and differentiated in a plot where meaning making and social action would provide a place in which children, our grandchildren and we can live. We were both rich with stories that could provide guidance for our lives together through the traditions and protocols of storywork. In addition, Nan Margaret was our storytelling Elder, who first showed me how to weave our stories together, to shape a storybasket of our lives. 21  Thus my life, and hence my perspective, is situated within a legacy of western orality in the Germanic tradition and that of First Nations orality in the Nuu-chah-nulth tradition. Consequently, it behooves me to create a space of respect in this investigation in which both traditions can shed light on each other in a framework of such protocols. This opening chapter provides an introduction of thick description of the space in which this study takes place so that light can penetrate and the sorting of stories can begin. In the Socio-cultural Territory of the Story Nuu-chah-nulth narratives have sustained the life careers of Nuu-chah-nulth people since time immemorial. Nuu-chah-nulth (erroneously known as Nootka) are today an indigenous people of approximately 7,000 who have inhabited the windward side of the West Coast of Vancouver Island, in British Columbia, Canada for more than 4,300 years according to the archeological record (Marshall, 1993). Nuu-chah-nulth are classified as Wakashan speakers by linguists, sharing linguistic roots with the Heiltsuk of Bella Bella to the Northeast on the Central Coast, the Kwakwaka 'wakw on the East Coast of Vancouver Island, Ditidaht and the Makah to the south flanking the Straits of Juan de Fuca. The centrality of sacredness to the culture of Nuu-chah-nulth is exemplified by the recognition, even by people outside the culture, of the reverence toward Creation. Cook proposed that Nuu-chah-nulth be called Wak'ashian because they could be recognized by their welcoming shouts of praise and recognition of wakash (Arima, 1983: v). Thus, Wakashan has become the language family designation of linguistics that  includes Kwakiutl, Heiltsuk, Haisla, Ditidaht, Makah, and T'aat'aaqsapa (Nuu-chahnulth language). The greeting is associated with recognition of the role of the Creator for the creation and all good things. Reverence and respect of the sacredness and engagement in the expression of that awe gave rise to the rich ceremonial life for which 22  the North West Coast is famous. Thus, Wakashan cultures such as Nnu-chah-nulth are organized by language in which reverence, respect, responsibility, reciprocity weaves the social and ceremonial web of life. Ceremonial expressions of sacredness were and still are central to the cultural lives of Wakashan speakers and their descendants. (For a description of the Orthography see Appendix B.) The Nim-chah-nulth of Clayoquot Sound, in particular the confederated tribes of Ahousaht who make their current home at Maaqtitsiis on Flores Island, are the people among which this study is situated. The oneness of Nuu-chah-mdth with their homeland is signified by the very name meaning people living along the mountains of Vancouver Island. Ahous-ahts are people originating in Ahous, on the headland of Vargas Island. The Ahousaht Confederacy claims a territory between Hesquiaht Point and inland reaches of Sidney Inlet in the North and Meares Island to the South, to the East'the west side of the mountain range along the spine of the mountains of Vancouver Island and the ancestral village of Ahous, on the headland of Vargas Island and ocean reaches West and South (Lane, 1989). An early version of this confederacy was formed during the Ootshoas-aht war to assure certainty of access to "inside" resources, in particular chum salmon from Atleo River, when the dowry system of economic sharing failed. The Atleo lineage was ultimately enlisted to manage the resultant His-<v£ as part of their hahoothee 15  (management system based on hereditary rights) responsibility since they were not directly involved in the conflict (See Appendix C and D for Histories and Ha?w'iih of  Ahousaht).  15  His-uk are the spoils of war that are held in common for the prevailing group. 23  Hisuk-ish-tsa 'walk: Everything is One - Unity of All One-ness with the territory and its history may be understood as the central organizing philosophy of the Nuu-chah-mdth. Hisuk-ish-tsa'walk may be understood, as a philosophy comprised of the cultural elaboration of the history of a People that have lived in a particular territory minimally for more than four millennia. The philosophy of Hisuk-ish-tsa'walk, Everything is One, was translated, expressing central Nuu-chah-nulth beliefs for the first time in English through the work of the Nuu-chah-nulth members of the Scientific Panel for Forest Management in Clayoquot Sound: Co-chair, Chief Umeek, (Dr. E . Richard Atleo) and Elders, Roy Hayupis (Ahousaht), Larry Paul (Hesquiaht), Stanley Sam (Ahousaht) of the Scientific Panel for Forest Management in Clayoquot Sound (Bunnell & Atleo, 1995). The articulation of Hisuk-ish-tsa'walk in this context was particularly focused on the management of resources in the Clayoquot Sound when government, industry, environmental NGOs and First Nations had reached an impasse. The embodiment of territory and embeddedness of Nuu-chah-nulth in the territory demonstrates how the context and the people are conceptualized as One (Atleo, M . R., 1998). As such, Hisuk-ish-tsa'walk is a philosophical principle that speaks of how the context is central to understanding the moral and spiritual roles and actions of Nuu-chahnulth individuals and the group, Ou?aas (Nuu-chah-nulth people) in interaction with the environment provided a framework in which dialogue could begin between all interests to find a place in which to live. 4 Rs and 4 Ds of First Nations Storywork First Nations storywork reflects a lived reality. While Hisuk-ish-t'sawalk, can be transliterated as "in common-us-one" and speaks of "Oneness", it is lived in the very principles of the work that weaves lives and stories into mundane, utilitarian containers which become the meaning in daily living. In a traditional context, the sacred would be 24  imbued in the process of meaning making. In the contemporary context, these principles are more likely to sensitize First Nations people to the sacred as they move through the dynamic systems of social life. These principles are also likely to sensitize First Nations people to demands of paradigmatic shifts of epistemic transformations inherent in western developmental logic. Awareness of the sacred, but lack of embeddedness in the sacred, may be a reason that the exploration of living and working between oral and textual traditions requires a bi-focal vision. In a First Nations tradition, the group sensibilities require that the interconnectedness of all things, Hisuk-ish-tsa'walk (All is One), be central to understanding the creation and First Nations people in it. Thus, all things start with the relationship between the Creator and the creations. To the Creator and creations is due reverence, an awe that is about the wonder of it all, a wonder that requires a mind and heart which is open and compassionate to be able to be receptive to vision. This Oneness requires social and moral responsibility which can provide security, predictability, order and positive expectations about who a person is and what he or she is expected to do. Respect allows one person to see the other and oneself in the context of the web of kinships. Relations are critical to understanding how to fit in to the family, group, and the world. The dynamics of the interrelatedness are continually balanced through the process of reciprocities in the web of inter-relatedness, which creates a synergy in which the wholism is again One-ness. Hence, the salutation: all my relations is structured by the 4Rs and animated by the 4 Ds. Storywork, as cultural production in the context of Hisukish-tsa'walk, continuously elaborates the meaning making of a People. Impact of Colonial Relations on Storywork In the last one hundred and fifty years of the incursion of the European social and educational systems, there has been a serious break in the formal storywork of First 25  Nations people. This has resulted in a cultural gap in the social technology of theory and practice for Nuu-chah-milth by the erasure of Nvu-chah-mdth stories and the suppression of storywork as an active dynamic of teaching and learning. The colonial erosion of Nuu-chah-mdth frameworks, cultural theory and practice has been accomplished through the dominance of a western system of cultural logic and educational ideology with the inherent ambivalence of colonialism as described in the postcolonial text of the likes of Bhabha (1994) and the First Nations specific commentary of Battiste (1986). The aftershocks of such "epistemic violence" (Spivak, 1994) continue to roll through the culture and lives of Nuu-chah-mdth people. The violence by the dominant culture of denying the "ways of knowing" of indigenous cultures continues to separate contemporary Nuu-chah-mdth from the grounded experiences of their own histories and cultural strategies. This epistemic violence is so insidious that it becomes embodied in the very people whose knowing it denies. For example, high levels of family violence in First Nations communities is framed as an individual developmental problem rather than a problem of sociohistorical epistemic origins and proportions, confounding the source of violence.  16  The aftershocks of this epistemic violence may be absorbed by the groundedness found in the re-telling and re-visiting of Nuu-chah-mdth stories. Such re-telling may promote re-discovery of the cultural worldview birthed in Nuu-chah-mdth territory over the millennia. This ambivalence of colonialism begs for an examination of those stories for the promises they held for Nuu-chah-mdth. Such an examination would address the colonization of the mind (Battiste, 1983; 1986), as well as acknowledge afresh the  The violence of colonialism is internalized by First Nations people and becomes articulated through violence with in the group as domestic violence, physical and sexual abuse, etc.. 1 6  26  declaration of the "Red Paper" (Indian Chiefs of Alberta, 1970) that the cultural work of education is foremost a moral and a spiritual activity and that traditional stories belong in this context. This cultural gap between theory and practice which seems to be managed by "education" as a social technology in the western sense must hold more for the future for First Nations than currently available. The dynamic between teaching and learning that existed in the Nuu-chah-nulth traditions was in some measure mediated through stories that carried critical salient "messages" for adaptive Nuu-chah-nulth cultural, spiritual, emotional, and physical development in the context of Nuu-chah-nulth territories. According to conservative archeological records (Marshall, 1993), for more than 4,000 years, Nuu-chah-nulth culture evolved in those territories. Lineage histories tell of Nuu-chah-nulth social structures that were complex with richly elaborated political and ceremonial life. The focus of Nuu-chah-nulth life was strategic and dynamic adaptation to the shifting resources of the territory and their ability to sustain the people. Lineage histories tell of the relationships between the people and the territory through a socio-political organization of'haahoothee" a system of hierarchical and hereditary management rights and obligations that assured re-distribution and re-circulation of resources to assure access to all the relations. As in every complex socio-cultural system, the life careers of individuals may be understood as predictable social trajectories marked by events signifying the points of transformation to a new stage or phase. Mammuums (vocation) was an important dimension of traditional life that located individuals in formal cultural life according to their social position and personal development therein. The Sayings of our People (Keitlah, 1995) provides an accessible recent rendition of many of the traditional life  27  career expectations for Nuu-chah-milth by contemporary Elders. George Clutesi (1972, 1988) provides the most comprehensive and authentic exposition of the life of a young Tseshaht boy's journey into manhood and the more formal world of the potlatch system from first hand experience. A more anthropological rendition is provided by Drucker (1951) whose informants included Nuu-chah-mdth of the generation of our lineage ancestors, great grandfather Keesta Atleo (1850's - 1950's), and his son, George Shamrock (Atleo) (1893 - 1948). Together these renditions are from informants whose witness spans approximately 150 years, much of the period of active colonization in Nuuchah-mdth territory. Cultural interpretation and elaboration of the biological phases, stages, transitions and transformations in Nuu-chah-mdth social life are well documented in both sources. Birth, puberty, induction into social societies, marriage, childbearing, special achievements and death are an abbreviated progression in a generic life career trajectory of Nuu-chah-mdth. How these events developed, took place, were celebrated, marked, remembered, and recorded is part of the elaborated culture of the Nuu-chah-  mdth. While birth is the starting point for the life course from a biological approach, the starting point for birth in Nuu-chah-mdth culture was marriage, the social context for birth. Women of childbearing age were respected for their ability to produce new life. Readiness for marriage was marked by the aitsol, the culminating potlatch of the coming of age ceremony for girls. The aitsol was a showcase of the rights and privileges to which these young ladies were heir. This highlighting formally and publicly associated the girl with the social capital that she would bring to a marital union and could invest in her children. The marriage of two people, especially those of rank, was the beginning of a new alliance between lineages, a new reason to "go company" by sharing resources because the offspring would be a product of both. Consequently, the children of such 28  unions were already persons to be respected, with inherited rights and obligations even before birth. Developing children were treated as persons even while in the womb. Developing children were treated with Esaak (respect) and expectations for the future. The development of children both in utero and after birth was of active interest to parents and members of the extended family with whom the parents resided and of interest to other lineage members. Pregnant women were treated with respect and care because they carried developing persons for whom there already were social expectations and because their social positions were preordained according to where they fit in their respective lineages. Individuals received names to signify transition through changes in status based in culturally significant developmental stages of their life career (e.g., birth, first hair cut, surviving the first year, puberty,firstdeer or processing of fish, marriage, etc.). Some babies were given names with which expectations were cultivated even as they developed in the womb. When children were born, they received baby names in recognition of their developing attributes. As they developed, they were given lineage names, which endowed them with expectations for lineage role performance and their progression through such roles based on social scripts. The names were often verbalizations of lineage scripts or orientations to lineage interests. For example, my eldest son's progression through a series of names was related to his hereditary right to parts of the whale to which his lineage is heir. He embodies the rights of his lineage and the names act as a sign. Two of his names contain the morpheme "Caaqua" related to the "saddle of the whale" and the second morpheme, '77'/;" for when he was young and "meek" for when he became more personally agentic and occupationally active. Usually people were not addressed by their ceremonial names in everyday life. Individuals often had pet names that were used in informal conversation because ritual names changed and because ritual  29  names were imbued with a sacred quality. However, during rites, ceremonies, and times when the "office" of the name was contextually salient, the ritual names were used as they formed part of the story being told or enacted. Names then could provide orientation, signaling both how the individual fit into his/her history and how that history was developing in the current era. Since knowing a person was dependant on knowing how one was related, the actual names were not the primary means of identification but rather a means of signaling what ritual space the individual currently occupied. Unfolding of the Statuses of the Nuu-chah-nulth Life Career History and the future are always unfolding in the Nuu-chah-nulth present. The opening scene of the Umeek Narratives is the re-telling of the origin of the Kluu-kwana because the induction into social adulthood was marked by a Kluu-kwana. Kluu-kwana has been translated by Richard Atleo (pers. communication) as "we remember reality". The central feature of the Kluu-kwana is the ritual re-enactment of the mythological source of agency for Nuu-chah-nulth. Adult status and the source of adult agency are found in the Kluu-kwana that in the anthropological literature is known as the "Wolf Ritual". The re-enactment includes the snatching away of young initiants by "wolves" at public meetings. The initiants are then secreted away for several days to receive teachings from previous initiants before they re-enter the everyday society of the village in a public, ritual display of the classic return. Historically, there is feasting and storytelling for days, sometimes weeks on end if there are many initiants, during which time the history of the Nuu-chah-nulth is enacted in songs, dances, plays, and games. Not only is history re-enacted, it is also being shaped by the very activities in which people participate.  30  In an historical developmental perspective, the expectations for the life career of First Nations people has become an increasing problem at the interface between Western and First Nations development. The problem began with Western contact approximately thirteen generations ago and, in the present, echoes the archetypal models found in traditional stories told at every opportunity between Nuu-chah-mdth Elders and their kin. Some of these stories were recorded and from these oral versions were committed to text in English by the early ethnographers of the West Coast of Vancouver Island (Boas, 1897, 1909; 1921; Curtis, 1916; Drucker, 1951, Sapir & Swadesh, 1939). They were also written in Nuu-chah-mdth by local participants such as Alex Thomas of Tseshaht. Records of the participation of First Nations in traditional and ensuing cash and social welfare economies provide us with a background against which to understand the orientations of workers as a function of the prevailing conditions that may be manufactured (i.e., legal, socio-economic, etc.) or natural. When the stories of the past of First Nations are silent, there is no baseline against which to understand the present or how to move into the future. For many First Nations, the historic self has been usurped and supplanted by a Euro-centered persona. Consequently, we must engage in "time travel" to move from the sacredness of mythic time, through the social rationality of secular time, to minds fixated on the minutiae of the complexities of postmodern time in a cross-cultural systems analysis. In the western world, the work of life has historically been understood in the context of the sacred as a vocation or a calling. More contemporarily, in the context of civil, industrial, secular society, occupations dominate the life span as a series of work roles that fulfill the economic needs of individuals and families in the context of economic and technological globalization and change. To understand this development  31  requires an historical perspective about work in western social development. There has been an ideological progression from viewing work as a sacred calling, to viewing it as a social and personal modality of activity or role in which the means of and meaning for a living are secured (Cochran, 1997; Cochran & Laub, 1994; Cochran, 1990). This changing perspective on work or ma'mook ties the sensibilities of work very closely to the social and economic development of a cultural economy. This changing view of the world has required the re-orientation of the individual and some whole societies from a sacred perspective anchored by religious beliefs to secular ideology and public institutions to a human development perspective of life cycles or life stages or life careers in the life span. Such re-orientations require a profound shift in consciousness from (wo)men as creation to (wo)men as creator of lifestyles from which is distilled cultural knowledge (Austin-Broos, 1987). This shift has been in some measure facilitated by social science research, which has been the site of much investigation of the habituation into and reorganization of social roles from a behavioral perspective with a typically materialist analysis and a physical focus. Social development literature has been the site of investigation into child, adolescent, and adult development and into the pre-determinants of social and intellectual skills. Sociology has been the site of investigation of the relationship between the predeterminants of desirable skills and the functioning of society (Coleman, 1989). Education literature has been the site of investigation into how such skills can be expanded, enlarged or remedied. Remedies in the forms of social re-habituation have been more usually discussed in occupational therapy, rehabilitation medicine, or vocational counseling for career change after a life changing mishap. Today, social habituation into roles may itself be a problem when the pace of life in the global village  32  requires a continuous re-orientation to changing technology, resource limitations, economic trends and personal limitations and transformations. Summary In this chapter I have situated my work in a global de-colonization project nested in a bi-cultural framework of an oral tradition in the organizing concept of ma'mook from which to investigate the problem of an absence of Nuu-chah-mdth learning theory in the current educational literature. The purpose of this study is to gather and examine the complex of Nuu-chah-mdth narratives, which I have called the Umeek Narratives as a site from which to understand Nuu-chah-mdth perspectives on learning in social and territorial contexts and what the implications of that understanding may be for education in various guises. This chapter has situated me and the study in the context of a Nuuchah-mdth worldview in which One-ness includes colonial relations and cultural traditions of life careers organized through the principles and dynamics of storywork. This work is organized into six chapters. In the first chapter, I have situated the work and myself. The second chapter is a weave of stories and literature which provides the voices of the Elders from both traditions in an evolving container trope symbolized by both Qa?uuc and Tupperware. The third chapter describes the methodology, the elaboration of protocols, the metaphorical mapping and phenomenological orienteering processes as they apply to the interviews and narrative analysis. My re-telling of Curtis' (1916) version of the Rival WJialers, which I have renamed, the Umeek Narratives is fore grounded in the fourth chapter. The fifth chapter reports the reflections of the Elders about learning issues in narratives, a narrative analysis of the story. The final chapter includes a discussion of the themes and issues which emerged, conclusions are drawn and recommendations for theory and practice of Nuu-chah-mdth learning proposed in the context of the Nuu-chah-mdth ideal of ?apcii-yuch, going the right way. 33  Chapter II - Qa'uuc and Tuppervvare - Grounding the Dialectic In Chapter II, I introduce more of the stories stored in my qa'uuc to make more distinct the dialectics of the ground from which we may be able to begin to examine the Umeek Narratives  for indications of (re) orientation and learning. I bring many stories to  this work since I am concerned with the problem of Nuu-chah-nulth  disappearing into the  landscapes of non-native psyches to become invisible and negated. Because traditional Nuu-chah-nulth  First Nations (hi) stories and learning theory are absent from mainstream  educational literature it behooves me demonstrate their living presence in  Nuu-chah-nulth  stories. In this chapter, my objective is therefore to construct a ground in which the abductive and the adductive logic , the dialectical aspects of logic can emerge through /s  the pattern of signs in the stories and meanings. Such logic is most self evident currently on the Internet, which is organizing the logic of networks . A second objective is to 79  Tupperware (Clarke, 1999) is a modern female icon of success based in the sales of containers by women through a hostess system in which luxury gifts are incentives and women are drawn together in social networks that mimic the networks fn which they labored before the means and mode of production was controlled through an industrial model at a distance, based on a patent held by a male. Piercian pragmatics identify the two dialectic aspect of logic where in the adductive and abductive are roughly equivalent to inductive and deductive except from a relational (pragmatic) subjective perspective rather than an objective perspective that is logically linear (See Figure 3) 1 8  Abductive logic is currently being recognized as critical to understanding qualitative research which features thick description. Pierce (1902) defined abduction as "the process of constructing an explanatory hypothesis" (p. 171) wherein one resorts to every day logic grounded in a broad context including both the prerequisites and the possible effects (Moser, 1999). Abductive logic moves back and forth between data and theory/model construction. Abduction and adduction are the back and forth dimensions of the process paralleling induction and deduction in formal logics. Norman Denzin suggests that the principle of "thick description" therefore necessarily "...does more than record what a person is doing. It goes beyond mere fact and surface appearances. It presents detail context, emotion and the webs of social relationships that join persons to 34 1 9  loosen the categorical nature of a formal western logic so that we may "see through" it. Such a ground needs to provide enough bi-cultural information for the reader that the logics of orality and textuality as well as the logics of Nuu-chah-mdth and western perspectives each make their own unique "sense" so that their relationship to each other in the context of learning might become more visible. I invite the reader to listen for the emergent meaning of these stories. First Nations ideology expressed in the heuristic 4 Rs and 4Ds is also developed further in this chapter. The 4 Rs, reverence, respect, responsibility, and relations serve to stabilize the ground. The 4 Ds, dynamics of wholism, inter-relations, reciprocities, and synergy permit the analysis. Developing an active ground is an attempt to counteract the perceptions of simultaneous absence and presence of First Nations that Visenor (1998) identifies as a problem. He maintains that the figure/ground dialectic, which creates a problem of visibility of the native to the non-native, lies in the "tropics of dominance" (p. 106) in which metaphor simultaneously affirms and denies. Fludernik (1999) suggests that this is a psychological legacy of the cross-mirroring of alterity in the colonial legacy . The native is spotted and then disappears in the landscape of the non-native 20  psyche. Visenor (1998) identifies synecdoche as the trope which typifies the dialogic circles of "varionative autobiographies" (p. 107) in which the flesh and blood self is embedded in a web of relations. The flesh and blood self is continuously expressed as synecdochal archetypes in functional relation to relatives in sacred histories and  one another. Thick description evokes emotionality and self-feelings. It inserts history into experience." (1989:83) Fludernik (1999: 30-31) uses Lucanian and Derridean formulations in her "mapping out of autostereotypes and heterostereotypes in the double bind of colonial and postcolonial displacements that these projections of alterity regularity undergo" (p. 30) which she explains and demonstrates in the cross mirroring process of five image transfers: colony, exoticism/orientalism, exile, globalization/cosmopolitanism and exile. 2 0  35  collective experiences in the present occurring in overtures of oneness in which the eternal is continuously expressed. For Nuu-chah-mdth this may be expressed in Hishuk  ish ts'awalk. To permit the Umeek Narratives to come into sharper relief against a background that has sufficient elements to permit their crystallization, I begin by elaborating the storywork ideology of First Nations and providing examples of cultural activities and behavior to illustrate how it works. The ideology of Nuu-chah-mdth chieftainship is exemplified by the exploration of the lives and orientations of two notable Nuu-chahmdth, E . M . George (Chief Maquhma) and E. R. Atleo (Chief Umeek). Maquinna/George and Umeek/Atleo are simultaneously hereditary chiefs, operating in lineage names and thus representing archetypes in sacred histories as well as being men of flesh and blood living in the landscape of their own colonized territory. The record of their personal histories demonstrates how they accomplish this. What they see and say in their research in education and contexts of changing resource availability is a starting point with which to understand diachronic problems in synchronic space, which, in turn, aids in understanding the utility of the narratives for today. As chiefs, these leaders have hereditary obligations and responsibilities to understand the changing environment in which their people are living that they may more effectively lead them through the morass of cultural expectations distorted by colonialism. Ewart (1991), drawing on Habermas' Theory of the Knowledge of Constitutive Interests, suggests that "...knowledge originates in human interest and means of social organization" (p. 347) which are concerned with the problems of self-preservation which raises important issues for education. Knowledge constitutive interests that are emancipatory for Nuu-chahmdth First Nations could be expected to be in the purview of these hereditary chiefs, consistent with a program for the preservation of a people, of a culture, in a territory. 36  Knowledge constitutive interests could be expected to be found in the teachings of a grandmother who is assuring her legacy in grandchildren. Because of the importance of the cultural work of First Nations women, understanding the diachronic issues of the changes in women's relationship to technology and their complimentary roles in cultural production of education and occupations, involves looking at synchronic spaces women occupy. To this end I am using qa'uuc to anchor Nuu-chah-nulth culture through basketry and Tupperware to anchor contemporary popular culture in which Nuu-chah-nulth women find themselves living, a highly blended sociotechnical life. Qa'uuc and Tupperware are used as tropic devices to explore the socioeconomic basis of two distinct and mutually existent socio-technological strategies for cultural socialization. In this way of life, control over social and material production becomes more distanced and complex in the multicultural mix of moral, social and environmental relations.  27  Social solidarity formed through consensus building as a Nuu-  chah-nulth social ideal is also brought into this frame to link the individual and social constituents of this multidimensional process. This exploration requires us to move through several levels of analysis in the development of metaphoric blends so that the synecdochal activity, which weaves the native and non-native worlds together, may become more visible. To this end, I explore the orientations of the hereditary chiefs to western perspectives and use my cross cultural examination of "women's containers" tropes, qa'uuc (utility baskets) and Tupperware, to  Fiske (1990) identifies four modes of social relationships in the context of community development that include vestigal and evolving dimensions of communal (family), authority (traditional cultural), equity (democratizing), and market (economic) modalities. His analysis suggests that there is much pragmatic juggling between these discontinuous models of social relationships because they are simultaneously present in dimensions which include: types of defection and production, parties, advantages enforcement, virtues and vices systems of origins and dependencies. 2 1  37  provide an entry into the understanding of the context of the traditional Nuu-chah-nulth and contemporary cultural economies in which the Umeek Narratives can be heard. This exploration helps us to move from a seamless, normative social reality of an early modernity through the crucible of critical consciousness and de-colonization of a late reflexive modernity into a postmodernist and postcolonial ethos in which the complexities of pre-modern activities and sensibilities can be compared to embodied presents. It is from this vantage point that the "UmeekNarratives" may best be read and their import apprehended in a contemporary Nuu-chah-nulth world. Marshall (1993:339) typifies contemporary Nuu-chah-nulth world as a tripartite political organization. This tripartite political organization consisting of 1) vestiges of traditional organization articulated through ceremonies and hahoothee (hereditary management system), 2) the dictates of federal and provincial government through policy and law, and 3) the Nuu-chah-nulth Tribal Council's mediational structures which work to consolidate new ground. But seen from a Nuu-chah-nulth ideological perspective we might look at the inside/outside strategies that are grinding down the powers of this era in the long run perspective that Marshall (1993) has correctly identified as the most illuminating as even now the Nuu-chah-nulth Tribal Council begins to de-centralize. To begin to explore the socio-technical context of qa'uuc and Tupperware, I situate this discussion in a frame of First Nations ideology by presenting" research by and about notable Nuu-chah-nulth from Ahousaht. In this manner I expect to provide an orientation to what might be salient for hereditary chiefs by looking at the public record and published research of the two Ahousaht chiefs, Maquinna and Umeek  38  First Nations Cultural Ideologies First Nations people have been characterized as being without culture and cultural institutions as late as the Delgamuuqw decision by Judge MacEachen. In 1987, Mr. Justice Addy (Ridington, 1990) denied a claim of the Dunne-za/Cree on the basis that in his opinion, their planning and decision-making seemed spontaneous and instinctive and thus he could not see their point, nor support their claim. Basic human competencies were still being denied the First Nations people. After centuries of colonization, the persistent mechanisms of aboriginal culture were still being de-legitimated by policy and practice. The Supreme Court's overturning of Delgamuuqw suggested that the law was not the forum for defining the aboriginal rights of First Nations people but that the rights needed to be negotiated. Negotiations in forums such as B C Treaty process have gone on for seven years and demonstrate that there is much to talk about and learn. How do the representatives of a settler state that operates in the formal logics of a western legacy negotiate terms with the representatives of indigenous societies that operate in wisdom of the ancients from the perspective of time immemorial? That there is cultural ideology cannot be denied. That it is not textually codified can also not be denied. Nevertheless, that does not mean that it does not exist. Between 1910 and 1924, Edward Sapir recorded ethnographies among the Nuu-chah-nulth in Port Alberni (Golla, 1988). Golla suggests that these ethnographies are a rich storehouse of Nuu-chah-nulth cultural knowledge that has been inaccessible and hidden from view. In her narratological analysis of War among Aahuus Bands, Golla distills an ideology of 22  chieftainship from a text "[fjilled with concrete description and ironic detail ...a series of  "The text I have selected was originally published in Native Accounts of Nootka Ethnography (Sapir and Swadesh, 1939) under the title "War among Aahuus Bands", although in fact it is about not a war but a coup and a counter-coup over a head chieftainship." (Golla, 1988: 108) 2 2  39  events purportedly historical events couched in a normative context that simultaneously describes and dramatizes appropriate and inappropriate chiefly behavior. It reads like a morality play" (1988:108). It becomes clear from Golla's analysis that the main thread of the story has several components. It presents a negative social model of what a chief and his wife should do. Then there is the process of a social remedy complete with negative outcomes for the oppressors. Finally, there is positive social model in which the rightful heir is restored to a position in which he can fulfill the role of the chiefship in reciprocal cooperation with other nobles and muschoom (commoners). The story is a tidy tale that expresses chiefship ideology with roles for the oppressor and oppressed, with remedies and re-discoveries and a setting right. Aspects of the Nuu-chah-mdth ideology of leadership are encapsulated in the cultural logic of this narrative. Golla's insight into this ideology may have been aided by her field collaboration with Adam Shewish, a socially active, prominent chief of the Tseshaht who participated in her fieldwork. The 4R's and 4D's: Principles to Live By Storywork by the Elders provides an entry into the principles and ideology of First Nations culture; elders use their own life experience as a template for inference. Pan-indianism is possibly conveyed cross tribally by recognizable principles of logic and tolerance for diversity as an underlying ideology shaped by the wisdom of the Elders. Such ideology would be consistent over generations and across First Nations cultures. The stories about Chief Earl Maqxdnna George and Chief Umeek, Richard Atleo have long strands of structure and the flexibility built into their histories. They are also public figures against which the demands  Nuu-chah-mdth ideologies for role incumbents can  be measured. The storywork principles that Archibald (1997) identified provide us with the structural strength of the 4 Rs and the dynamic flexibility of the 4 Ds to stabilize and  40  analyze these narratives. Strong structural strands are reverence for the sacred, the Creator and their sacred histories; Esaak, respect for their people, resources and territories; responsibilities in the sense of accountabilities in a gifting economy where there is responsibility to the territory and the people; and relational expectations that extend inward and outward. Change can be embraced when there is a sacred past, a spirituality and trust in the cultural institutions. The 4Ds, the cultural dynamics, permit the flexibility of whole sight that allows the dialectic of looking back and looking forward. The 4Ds signal the rich connections of interrelationships and the synergy of synchronicities that are continuously sought and re-discovered in the logic of the directions, the seasons, the lineage relations, the tides, the myth cycles, the animal cycles, the biological cycles, the planetary cycles, and cycles of time. The 4Ds mark the reciprocities that come with enduring social relationships that stretch back to time immemorial and forward into the future. The 4Rs and 4Ds permit an ongoing unfolding awareness of the deep patterns of Hisuk-ish-tsa'walk, a Nuu-chah-mdth philosophy, logic of all is one, particularly in the context of story telling and learning. The cross-cultural aspects of this study in a post modern inquiry require us to begin at the philosophical level so we might understand the logics of production and reproduction in which cultural individuals participate. The complexities of post modernity may be the result of the many diverse voices clamoring to be heard in "a world beset by personal, cultural and international conflicts" (Joy, 1997: xxv). Many diverse visions are competing for attention in modern culture such that our senses are over stimulated, making it difficult to assimilate and/or accommodate multiple visions at the same time or even to focus on one at a time. To meet the need to understand such complexities we are required to move beyond strictly rational procedures of reconstituted logic into the realm of logic-in-use that seeks to capture the very "operations of human 41  understanding in pursuit" (Kaplan, 1964: 6-7). This logic-in-use is characterized by Kaplan as a process of physiologies (experiences) and histories. Since there are many experiences and histories, there can be many forms of logic-in-use, many processes of reasoning based in such organizing patterns. Moreover, while there are many, there is an onus of proof on all. "Not only language and culture affect the logic-in-use, but also the state of knowledge, the stage of inquiry and the special conditions of the particular problem" (1964: 8). Since there are many logics-in-use, there arises a logic of relations, which is concerned with complexity of formal systems of relationships, prompted by formal consideration of paradox (Russell, 1962). Also arising is logic of intuition, a dimension of a use of logic use, which is outside habitual inference for which reconstructed logic exists. Reconstructed logic is a cognitive style that conserves and replicates the logic-inuse. For example, in the "hypothetico-deductive" method of science, the scientific method is conserved and replicated. Reconstructive logic has thus been the cognitive style of modernity and may be seen as the prevailing metaphor of the era of science and schooling. Schooling in the form of curriculum may be seen as designed to reproduce a central cognitive style disciplined by testing and psychometrics. Logic-in-use provides a means for experiences and histories to enter into the formal discourse when we understand that reconstructed logic is by its very nature a hypothesis that is still being tested, a metaphor standing in the place of the "Thing". Although reconstructed logic is in fact a hypothesis, it has been de facto idealized (Kaplan, 1964), cognitized and reproduced as the discourse of modernity. Metaphors become the "Thing", particularly in text and classroom. To the extent to which such defacto idealization occurs, it may interfere with the progression of understanding. To  42  the extent this occurs, reconstructed logic becomes a barrier to truth. Consequently, it behooves us to distinguish between the defacto idealized position and the many physiologies, experiences and histories which such an idealization denies or negates or normalizes through statistical validations. To distinguish between de facto idealized positions and providing an opportunity for a chorus of physiologies/experiences and histories requires the logic of Pierce's (Dyer, 1986) abductive approach. Abductive logic allows us to stop the action of the reproductive logic and identify the inductive and deductive "halves" of the cycle of logic. This in turn allows us to move the interconnections and relationships of a theoretical perspective to the whole vision or picture and back again, micro to macro and visa versa. Dyer suggests that this approach is similar to Veblen's "principle of adaptation" (1986:33) in which the search for unity in multiplicity is based on feeling which guides the search for hypotheses, which is then seen to constitute the induction of (scientific) creativity. Oatley (1996) distinguishes between agentive (narrative/human action) and epistemic (paradigmatic/systemic) modes of thinking based on Bruner's (1996) definition and suggests that the interaction between the two modes is a type of informed 23  •  *  "guessing" , in which the social component (i.e., social context, Tryphon, & Voneche, 1996) or position (Harre & Langenhove, 1999) imperceptibly enters into the 24  assumptions in the field of logic in the form of the individual. Patterned processes of experiences and histories as described by Kaplan as logicsin-use seem to have some affinity with the organizing principles of First Nations 2 3  abductive logic is also conceptualized as informed guessing.  Harre & van Langenhove (1999) suggest a positioning theory in which there is a triadic relationship between prevailing social forces, a position and a storyline. "[Positioning can be understood as the discursive construction of personal stories that make a person's actions intelligible and relatively determinate as social acts and within which the members of the conversation have specific locations" (p. 16). 43 2 4  theorizing as articulated by Calliou (1995) in her use of the medicine wheel as a pedagogical device for modeling "peacekeeping" education and Hampton (1995) in his use of the pipe ceremony as an organizing principle or pattern that "organizes and clarifies thought" (p. 16). Hampton (1995) is careful to point out that what he is presenting is N O T a model since models "connote a small, imperfect copy of something more real" (p. 16). Indeed Hampton uses the special organizing principles of the six directions of the pipe ceremony and the historical and value or experience-laden definitions of the participants of his study to define Indian education. Thus, Hampton's research data are produced in a process that is grounded, qualitative and based on participant observation. By this process, Hampton defines Indian education in the heart of a First Nations view of the universe that is structured, dynamic, and harmonizing. Themes that emerged from these data were place, identity, spirituality, culture, affiliation, education, freedom and service. Hampton "lets the [six] directions and the interview data evoke meanings and then [he] summarized the meanings in standards"(p. 18). The twelve standards for Indian education that summarize the evoked meanings are spirituality, service, diversity, culture, tradition, respect, history, relentlessness, vitality, conflict, place and transformation. Each of these standards represents meaning evoked on the cusp of western and aboriginal thinking about education. This thinking has historically been dominated by western meanings. Nevertheless, such thinking can be balanced by aboriginal meanings even as Hampton does in discussing the interrelationships between his own and participant observations, history, experiences, culturally organized principles in his enunciation of standards for Indian education. As such, this process sounds like the creativity of reasoning that is being used or logic-in-use and suggests how the social assumptions and needs of the participant observers in the  44  field may be met.  25  Between the logics-in-itse formulation by Kaplan and the examples  of productive thinking about First Nations patterned thinking by Calliou (1995) and Hampton (1995), I can recognize some aspects of the process of enculturative education I received from the matriarch of my family of consanguinity and the expectations she had for my proformativity. The situated, unique and creative movement of meaning making in cultural patterns in the context of history requires the transformation of creativity rather than the reproduction of form. Moving through Modernity towards Postcoloniality : Changing Life Careers 26  The interrelationships between history, personal experiences and observations, and culturally organizing principles may be key to creative ways of moving from a pattern of life career that suits modernity to one that makes sense in a postcolonial world. Looking at a person's life history provides "information about a person's interests, values, abilities, motives, and character strengths" (Cochran, 1997:55). Life history can bear witness to the meaning a person makes of his or her life. Traditionally, chiefs were looked to as role models, as leaders. Stories about chiefs provided teachings about cultural ideals, standards for living, and achievements, and as such provided expectations for such behavioral enactment in community life. In addition, while colonialism has eroded the cultural value of such models in teachings about social, economic and occupational change, their value should not be underestimated. While these men are beings to be respected, they are watched as role models to see what they are doing and  Turner & Fauconnier (1998) suggest that creative complexity is a product of metaphorical blending process in which elaboration between metaphorical models is a continuously evolving process. 2 5  Postcolonial is used here as a discourse rather than a fact and is useful for understanding the project of decolonization of First Nations people through the healing process and other proactive initiatives. 2 6  45  how they are doing it. Consequently, examining their lives in the context of sacred and profane time, education and de-colonization, orality and textuality, sheds some light on the meanings of the roles of chiefs such as those in the Umeek narratives. Examining the public history of Tyee haw'ii Earl Maquinna George and haw'il Umeek, E . Richard Atleo also sheds some light on their ma'mook, how they have worked, to look" after the people and the territory and how they have learned to change. Maquinna Earl George and E. Richard Atleo are men who live in the sacred history of Ahousaht with roles and responsibilities to the people of Ahousaht as did their forefathers from time immemorial (See Appendix C and D for a more detailed rendition of their sacred histories and life careers).  27  While Chief Maquinna and Chief Umeek are  part of a sacred history in which they stand in the positions of their ancestors and mythical archetypes, they are also men living and working in the 20 and 21 century in th  st  the Canadian nation state under the colonizing force of the Indian Act. As men, part of the work of their lives, has been to fulfill both their hereditary roles in sacred time Ahousaht and look after the needs of their immediate families in the socioeconomic present reality. Maquinna began learning his local environment as a fisher and logger. He expanded his range in logging and fishing to much of the west coast. He was employed by the government for many years in the coast guard stationed in Vancouver, Victoria and Tofino. Towards retirement, he became increasingly involved in defense of the  See Appendix D. Earl George's oral history and Richard Atleo's life history are appended so that the rich detail of their stories could be included as part of the frame of this story. Story frames are usually obscured but in this case the thread of the story and the collaborative work of the Elders would not make sense without much of the rich detail of Earl and Richard's enactment of the Nuu-chah-nulth ideology of chieftainship. In any case, my storied examples are in their frame.  46  territory through litigation, negotiation and treaty talks. Maquinna continues to secure the territory for the people of Ahousaht, thus fulfilling his legacy. Umeek also began learning about his local environment. His first environment was the social expectations of the House of Klaak-ish-peethl in which he lived. This first environment was a social environment in which administrative consultation of the chiefs was an early memory. Umeek, too, went on to learn about the local environment through fishing and logging. Increasingly however, understanding the socio-political environment of colonization became the focus of Umeek's learning. Understanding of the social environment of the colonizing culture grew in the space between the natural environment and the cultural environment of the Nuu-chah-nulth. It was this western cultural environment that Richard learned to understand through his occupational activities. Through his work as social worker, teacher, principal, special assistant to a cabinet minister, bureaucrat within the Department of Indian Affairs which dictated the governance of First Nations communities, as researcher and as instructor in higher learning he found new ways to succeed in the midst of oppression, charted a new way for the micro-dimensions of self governance capacity development. Richard's learning was a means for strategic capacity development and maintenance of cultural ideals in the context of a western cultural environment that was often hostile and exclusive. Ha?w'iih Maquinna and Umeek have led and continue to lead remarkable lives. They both exhibit high levels of effective bi-cultural functioning in which they "simultaneously (are) able to know, accept, and practice both mainstream values and the traditional values and beliefs of their cultural heritage" (Garcia, 1999: 32). These men demonstrated that as other "Native American warriors in education" they have persisted through the "influences of family, spirituality, role models and mentors, a desire to  47  achieve, biculturalism, a belief in giving back, and a pride in their heritage" (Garcia, 1999:115). They have both had full working careers. Earl spent more time on the fishing ground, in the woods and on the water, while Richard spent more time in the bureaucracy and educational system of the colonizing force. Their stories illustrate that "[l]ife history supplies the ground for emplotment as an agent in a career narrative with which a 28  person strongly identifies or that expresses his or her sense of identity".. .in a way that may be meaningful as it "...emphasizes strengths, motives, interests, values, and aims..." (Cochran, 1997: 79). The life histories of these two chiefs provide evidence of their sense of who they are and their social responsibility as they have negotiated the historical fabric in their time. Container Logics: Cloudscapes. Cat's Cradles. Baskets and Bodies Public men write their stories on the public record. According to Nuu-chah-nulth expectations, the women of such public men are near and participate with them. Margaret Grace (Charlie) Atleo was the wife of Shamrock Atleo, a public man. Nan Margaret (my grandmother-in-law) taught me to be oriented to expectations for my function in a new cultural context, social position and setting, the wife of a public man. In that way, the ideology of chieftainship and the wifely requirements could become clear so that I could become a part of the family, community, lineage, and culture. The means for us to accomplish this were to engage in "play" between her "physiologies and histories" and mine. Such "play" was grounded in our respective experience, histories, and current day to day to day-to-day interactions. These games began with a comparison whereby we could demonstrate to each other the metaphorical models we each held as Cochran's narrative approach to career counseling suggests that individuals can and do act as agents in their own life histories by developing stories in which they are featured. These stories can then be read by career counselors to help individuals in career counseling.  2 8  48  baselines. Then we could progress into a dynamic interaction in which our individual organizing metaphors were deconstructed, stretched, and collapsed to demonstrate the associations of these figures in the current pragmatic context to produce our unique path of cultural situatedness. Durham and Fernandez (1991) have described such activity as the play of tropes or polytropy that includes the pragmatic use of metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche and irony in which these are "figurative battles over placement in the social order and the structure of [cultural/ social/ occupational/ etc] production" (p. 11). In this way, the predictive quality of metaphor could be transformed vertically within domains of experience and horizontally across domains of experience and we could find each other in this process. Visual, social role and childrearing examples of this type of activity may help to flesh out a rather technical explanation. Allowing an Elder to lead in an envisioning game in which shapes of concrete objects such as a dog, or a fish, or an eagle were pointed out in the clouds or of pieces of wood or in the landscape was such an exercise. If the other participant could "see" the object then there was reciprocity of perception recognized, a synchronicity of perception established. More difficult examples for me were social situations in which a person's role expectations were not being fulfilled. A woman, for example, might not tend to her fish and it would spoil because she was following her husband around too much or was too preoccupied with other activities. Making sure that the band-use portion of fish that she received was effectively processed for her family was a community expectation. After all, the fish could have been hanging in the smokehouse of someone else and fed the family of the person willing to look after the fish. Was not the teaching that there was to be respect for the salmon that gave its life so that qu'aas (Nuu-chah-nulth people) could eat salmon as a staple? An example of this process in childrearing comes from the teasing games with uncles and aunts, mothers and 49  fathers, sisters and brothers, cousins, and grandparents whereby children were educated into where and how they fit into the social action. Traditionally, terms of address and reference in the Nuu-chah-mdth language situated individuals socially. Parallel English terms of address such as "elder brother", tayii, or "younger brother", y?uk iiqsu would be w  considered an appropriate Nuu-chah-mdth way to structure sibling interaction. English does not have the equivalent structure so that the relationships that these categories signify may be more affectively organized and held by Nuu-chah-mdth because they are labeled. The "games" that we "played" involved two social entities in a social context in which the elder knew intimately the social and ritual expectations of the role that the younger was to learn. However, since I did not speak the language and had not been early socialized into the same values, the process had to become explicit. Consequently, these "games" would consist of the establishment of a baseline metaphor from which the tropic limits could be explored for "someone like me" (i.e., Richard's wife and Shawn and Taras' mother). For example, one would present a canoe quest as a metaphor for a particular kind of trip in the journey of life and then discuss ways in which a canoe quest is similar to or different from the journey of life generally and relatively.- How can a canoe quest be like a journey, a relationship, and any challenge that needed to be met? The way the quest would be talked about would allow the trope to be taken apart and transformed in the dynamic process and situational examples. The process of these games permitted the elder to collaboratively develop with the younger person. This interaction seems to articulate a phenomenon similar to what Turner (1991) has identified as an "operational structure," in which tropes such as metaphors provide the keys in a "pragmatic interactive approach to cultural meaning (p. 155)." This operational structure seems to be logically grounded in a syntax that emulates Pierce's (Dyer, 1986) abductive 50  logic in which the figure can be separated from the ground in multiple, complex, emergent ways. In the dynamic of interaction, perception can focus either on minor details, major details or the relationships between the details of any given metaphor and the "real life" vehicle to which the inferences are made. Figures of speech (tropes) such as metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche play an important role in differentiating how or ma 'mook in a cultural ground in which everything is related. Figures of speech allow the perceptual focus on aspects of an embedded reality and then a release of that focus to re-create Oneness. Metynomy involves the use of an attribute or an adjunct that is substituted for the thing meant. For example, the tit-thlah-wik-um or seat in a territory can stand for the chief, lineage, rights, etc. Synecdoche involves the naming of a part by which the whole is understood. For example, the chief or the house when referring to the lineage or vice versa when the lineage is referring to the individual or part as in (s) he is an Atleo, a Campbell, a Frank, a George, a John, a Keitlah, a Sam, a Titian, a Thomas or when any of these individuals refer to Ahousahts." Metaphor involves comparison in which something is named or described by a term or a phrase wherein it is not literally but figuratively applicable, for example, when the traditional Nuu-chah-nulth system of wolves as agents of social control and justice are called "policemen" and compared to RCMP in the Canadian justice system. Finally, a perspective of synergy brings with it an active cultural agency in which the integrative power of the dialectical process powers the creativity of the rationality of cultural work. "Syn" denotes a bringing together of the senses so that "synecdoche" can be understood as a figure of speech that brings sensory aspects into convergence and "synergy" the power of such creative and re-creative activity. The structural and dynamic aspects of the development of an analytic framework in which to understand Umeek narratives are equally important to capture fixed and process elements. 51  For me, the complexities of this process of acculturation arose as the need developed, but the "operational structure" of the process was readily and eagerly apprehended in interaction with Nan Margaret and practiced with other members of my new community. This emergent "operational structure" had critical consequences for me in as much as it anchored me in the social system into which I married in such a way that my meaning making logic, the construction and elaboration of my self is now within that cultural context. In the process of developing an "operational structure" with Nan Margaret, I mapped my experiences and histories onto her position in a type of orientation. I would be stepping into her social position as the wife of the third chief of Ahousaht and ultimately take on her names in that position; to that extent I could orient myself to our mutual role. She thus bequeathed me the legacy of her interpretation of the social and personal expectations of the position that I occupy. In this process, Nan Margaret also taught me how to make baskets with ?almapt (red cedar bark), t'unaax (tule), c'itapt (slough sedge), and raffia. She did not have the authoritative textual aids to tell me where to find the plants, how they looked and how they should be harvested (Pojar et al., 1994), nor did she try to cover all the uses of cedar (Stewart, 1984), nor did she approach the work technically from the perspective of basketry and cordage (Bernick, 1998). She embodied the traditional ecological, technical and social knowledge with which to scaffold me in the production of a basket, providing all the necessary materials, tools, patterns, knowledge and attitude. Her approving, patient, expressive interaction with me allowed me to begin weaving in the soft dim light of the living room of her "old" house that first summer. The first basket she guided me in making was a "candy" or trinket basket. We chose a small round mold from the many wooden molds she had assembled over her  52  lifetime of basket making. She showed me how to begin the base. The elements of the weave, both the warp and the weft/woof were made of ?almapt, the soft inner bark of the tallest, straightest of ancient cedar trees that she could find in the springtime. The individual elements of the warp and the weft, of the base woven at right angles to one another in a "checker weave" (Bernick, 1998: 20), were then split to be turned up to fit the sides of the mold. Both the warp and the weft of the base thus became the warp of the encircling side. The elements of the warp were split to make them narrower, threestrand twining (Bernick, 1998: 21) created a ridge as the elements are turned up the side of the mold. At that point, the carefully bleached, dyed, smoothed and trimmed c'itapt (slough sedge) was used as the weft/woof to interlace over and under the cedar strips of the warp. Plaiting the sedge enclosed the narrow cedar strips, creating a solid weave. Into this solid weave Nan Margaret guided me in the incorporation of the central design of a canoe of hunters and the whale they pursued which we copied from her burlap sampler of designs. As I allowed myself to be guided in the creation of my first basket, I wove the central metaphor of Nuu-chah-nulth life, the relationship between the whaler, his crew and the whale. The body of the basket was removed from the mold and completed by the creation of a little ridge of three strand twining to shape the base for a slightly recessed neck. The neck was stiffened with a circle of cedar embedded in alternating warp elements. The neck was then finished with a neat selvage in which the warps were bent to the right and out to the back, being secured with plain twining of raffia. It was on this little "neck" that the lid would fit snuggly. The lid was made with t'unaax (tule), c'itapt (slough sedge) and raffia. Starting from the top with a little knob of t'unaax (tule) and raffia to which more t'unaax (tule) could be added to the warp until it was wide enough for c'itapt (slough sedge) to be used to plait designs of ducks, birds, waves or geometric designs into the sky/lid of the basket. As the master weaver, Nan 53  Margaret simultaneously taught me to weave a basket made from the resources of the forest, shoreline and riverbanks of the hahoothee of the territory and illustrate it with the dynamic relationships among the elements of the Nuu-chah-nulth sagas. Since it is usual to give one's first work as a gift so that there could be many more, I sent my basket to my parents who were living in Germany. Nan Margaret was my master teacher of things related to Nuu-chah-nulth lineage roles and responsibilities that became encoded by me as "philosophy in the flesh" (Lakoff & Johnson, 1999). Her lineage role enactments were my living models. Through the process of my interaction in this new, culturally structured environment, I participated in a sensorimotor re-structuring of my physiologies in experience, entering into a new world. She anchored her work with her affective sounds, the ?inaak (having the sound of),  29  that culturally modified my nervous system. A world opened up to me in which I  began to understand the similarities and differences of my previous experience. I was able to compare it to my new experience and learn how I could move between the two "worlds", understanding that it was I who provided the continuities in the discontinuities between these worlds. The basketwork was a special layered anchor in that it was the substantive, concrete trope, that we constructed together, a "sensorimotor structuring of (my) subjective experience" (Lakoff & Johnson, 1999; p. 47). The teachings of basketwork trope were about interconnectedness and embodiment. I learned that even items that seem to be discrete, like a basket, are  ?inaak (having the sound of something) is a very important concept for hunters. It is another example of analogic reasoning in which the sound signifies the "thing". The series of carvings with distinct facial expressions that are part of the whaling shrine are in my opinion visual examples ?inaak. which are common in masking (see: Walens, 1983). 54  embedded in rich webs of interconnectedness (Capra, 1995, 1982). Through ?inaak 1 30  could feel connections that Nan was making as she wove the basket. I could feel the connections in the stories that she told, the designs that she wove, as she led me into the principles of synchrony with the power of natural laws through the balance and reciprocities of the weaver creating the basket. Materializing Logics: Movies. Appliances and Tupperware Even as Nan was initiating me into the ways of basketwork in a remote Ahousaht of the late 1960's, Nan Margaret was being thrust into a late modernity. Even as Nan was weaving me into new cultural perspective, she was weaving herself out. Even as she was shaping me with basketwork, she was leaving celluloid traces. Nan made her acting debut. She wove herself into someone else's story. In 1973, Nan became Marta in I heard the Owl Call My Name. It was a movie sponsored by General Electric, directed by Daryl Duke, produced by Jacque Hubert. The story was based on the book by Margaret Craven (1967). Ironically, Ahousaht band administration agreed to portray the celebration of Northwest Coast culture and oneness with the land in this film in exchange for an electricity generating plant that was the collective payment for the use of the village site and territory. Sailor's Song (Kesey, 1994) comes close to describing the chaos of bringing Hollywood into an isolated, traditional community. The film crew spent months in the village orchestrating the action of the community. The boundaries of the film production and the community became blurred. Community members became extras and were paid as they went about their daily business. There was opportunity to socialize with famous actors and the film crew right in the village. Nan was "Marta" on  This non-verbal means of communication is significant part of the interaction in learning situations. 55  television now saying to the leading man: "You look like an egg, you look just like an egg." Even in the movies, she spoke in similes. For the village, the movie making was a means to slake the thirst for technology that required electricity. For Nan, it meant that she could buy technological conveniences: a new kitchen chrome set, a washer, a stove and a fridge. She could appreciate the energy saving technologies that her money could buy. For us, it meant that commercial film became a virtual home movie, which could capture the Ahousaht of that summer in endless time. The legacy of modernity after all was in the logic of reproduction cultivated through science and textuality. We could still cut fish for smoking outside on the huge oak table we had sat around for so many night lunches and stories in the warm glow of the coal oil lamps. And while Tupperware parties were not the norm when I first moved to Ahousaht in the mid 60's, the high value acknowledged to reside in technological goods had been witnessed for years by the decoration of graves with favorite sewing machines, pieces of washing machines, motors, caste iron headboards, prams, etc. The timing of feasts and ceremonies increasingly became adapted to the pace of external demands and regulations (e.g., fish openings, school year, accounting cycle) (Atleo, M . R., 1975). The instrumentality of technology was recognized and valued by men and women who still knew how hard it was to make a container, to row a boat against the tide for fresh water and wring out wash by hand. Thus, increasingly, particularly in more urban centers, Tupperware parties are not an unusual place for Nuu-chah-nulth women to visit with each other and purchase containers. More visiting was possible in fact because women had to work less.  56  I recall a visit with Nan Margaret to Chinatown in Vancouver where she was animated by the many wonderful containers for sale in one of the stores: enamel ware, porcelain, basketry, cast ironware, rice paper containers, containers large and small. The array of containers was clearly a visual feast for her. She picked up a small, lidded basket from Africa and remarked how similar it was to what we had made. It was clear that making baskets when such a wealth of baskets was available did not make sense to her. She was eager to purchase containers to give away at potlatches and she knew it would take much hard work to create reasonable facsimiles. That the expressive elements of culture were being disrupted by the technology was not apparent to us at the time. It was about convenience and an aging grandmother who delighted in innovation and novelty. It was not a premeditated move away from oral transmission of modes of production towards products of mass production and commodification of expressiveness as entertainment. Embodiments of Landscape: Embodiments of Text One of the issues in the movement between orality and textuality is understanding the difference between landscapes and resources that are embodied to be used and symbol systems written on a page becoming embodied. Moving beyond an either or perspective requires a bi-focal approach in which orality and textuality is balanced. I am using the analogy of baskets and Tupperware to examine the potential for understanding the paradox of living between orality and textuality. The transition from creating custommade containers out of the tree of life, with one's hands from start to finish to purchasing mass-produced containers at Tupperware parties happened in the space of remembrance among the Nuu-chah-nulth. For Nan, the transition happened in the space of a lifetime. The transition by Nuu-chah-nulth women from wholistic cultural production of 57  containers to placing written orders at "purchasing parties" required a giant leap from an embodiment of landscape to the embodiment of words. That giant leap was socially facilitated by education and missionization in which the focus shifted from the embodiments of context (land, resources, cultural knowledge) to the embodiment of text (schools, information, technical knowledge). The spirituality of the body and place of orality was being supplanted by the logos, of textuality. This giant leap between Nuu-chah-nulth container baskets coded with survival motifs and color-coded Tupperware with its burping lids to store goods are lifetimes, technologies and worldviews apart. However, basket making and Tupperware parties are simultaneously alive and well in some communities. Tupperware as an modern icon representing women's containers may be seen as an embodiment of the transition from a moral economy embedded in landscape to a disembedded market economy. The transition maintains a semblance of the earlier order through the social relations of the party format and the gift in the context of a market transaction. Tupper's patenting of the type of container and the sales process effectively controls the whole process from the conception of the idea, the patent, to the delivery of the product. Material reproduction of Tupperware is not only impossible but also illegal. By the mid-1400, the Catholic Church had effective control over the whole process of Christianity, the container of spirituality, from the homely, to the catechism, to the dispensation of salvation, the sale of dispensations and the main icon, the Word of God in print when large scale colonial exploration began. Luther (b. 1483 - d. 1546) with the German princes came to see this monopoly as oppression by a foreign power and a monopoly that he sought to disrupt promoting salvation in the vernacular of the people,  58  bring spirituality into the mother tongue . His translation of the New Testament used 31  the vernacular of the layperson, the graphic German metaphors of the body and landscape. A translation could directly animate the heart and mind of German speakers due to the graphic nature of the language. That his translation coincided with the invention of the printing press, the spread of humanism, and great political unrest, caused the Giittenburg Bible to be a breakthrough (Ryder, 1997). The text connected the people to the animating force of native language. In the case of Luther, the translation of the Bible permitted the word of God to become directly available through textuality and orality. In fact, Luther's version of the Bible is readily sung because he was also a musician and composer. Luther's translation provides an example of a convergence of textuality and orality, a bi-focal vision. Since textuality usually has permitted one speaker and perspective at a time, this one-way discourse provides a perfect model for reproductive logic in which the dynamic between the inductive and deductive dimensions of the cycle of logic provides the defacto ideal, the seamless ideal reality. Tupperware production is an example of the one-way model. Luther's translation shows that there is room for bi-focality, if the translation makes the material available. The other dimensions of logic (i.e., intuition, relations) suggested by Kaplan (1964) and found in orality become stifled. The self of orality nurtured by logics-of-use, intuition and relations embedded in personal aspects of group narratives become silenced in the logic of reproduction that manufactures the social institutional "I". De facto "I", the objective, institutional self, promoted the logic of reproduction in the textuality of the modern era.  See: for background to Luther, his works, people that participated with him, politics of the historical era in which he lived and discussion of his view on translation. 3 1  59  A critique that uses many narratives and a de-colonizing focus of the institutionalized and colonized self, promotes logic of reproduction that raises a cacophony that is confusing and alienating unless we move with for example, Ricoeur, to seek a poetic/poietic resolution (Joy, 1997). He states that, "[s]uch a resolution entails expressing the dynamics of a productive imagination in a poetic... .mode of depiction" (xxv). Consequently, in a growing "society of strangers" no longer fused in an institutionalized and colonized "I", glued together in a pathology of reproductive logic, a more complex vision is required, an alliance of logics of use. A "society of strangers" based on the logics of use requires a new self based in a reflexivity of relations and intuitions (Dean, 1996). And while this theory comes out of a Habermasian legacy of communicative action, in practice such solidarity was the basis of the confederation of nations encouraged by Tiskin (Maquinna provides some insight into Nuu-chah-nulth ideology of confederacy development in Appendix D), which, according to myth, formed Nuu-chah-nulth confederacies (Appendix C provides lineage histories of these which include Maquinna and Umeek). Sustaining such a society in which "strangers" can become "one" requires a reflexivity in which our own strangeness becomes known to us. It requires a logic that goes beyond a cycle of deductive and inductive inferences that reproduce structure, to abductive logic in the context of the social group through a process of distributed knowledge (Gatley, 1996) that finds new relationships and solutions. Reflective solidarity (Dean, 1996) is posited as a remedy for a "society of strangers" which rests on accountability. The solidarity of traditional Nuu-chah-nulth life based in and on hahoothee (Bunnell & Atleo, 1995), the law of the chiefs, was based on a social web of accountability that was termed "respect," recognition of who you are. The currency of respect was fashioned in the formal relationships of the potlatch and the 60  informal relationships of daily life, each person accountable to the other in mutual aid and recognition. Respect can be understood in the context of expectations in which organized rights, obligations, and accountability are unique to the social position of every person, a condition of value pluralism. Belonging to a particular culture, having internalized such unique systems of expectations, has traditionally involved being party to symbolic cultural capital. Symbolic cultural capital may be seen as a form of gestalt knowledge that affectively and cognitively orients individuals through a dialectic of knowing and recognizing to appreciate and to exercise competence in decoding relations and artifacts (Bourdieu, 1993; Miller & Branson, 1987). The spiritual aspects of such capital are understood as Creator-bestowed and mediated as teachings. The cultural production and exchange of such capital was and is the stuff of ritual and ceremony. Such symbolic cultural capital was among the most prized by Nuu-chah-mdth. Names as heuristics to mythic sensibilities and principles organizing motivation were the chief tupati (treasures) among them. Formal, "political" marriages of high-ranking 32  people of substance between Nuu-chah-mdth usually included the exchange of names and the playing of games (Drucker, 1951). The names and the game may still be part of the dowry of brides. The challenge was to the family of the groom to meet the demands of the game. One such game is to "spear" the center of a mock seal with an arrow that has a feather tied to the middle. The technological organization of the game is a spoof on the serious technological capital exchange taking place between the families. The cognitive structuring of the resources of the bride and groom's lineage were carefully selected for Van Kirk (1980) provides evidence from women's standpoint that what might be classified as "political" or "economic" marriages from western theoretical perspectives did indeed provided Many Tender Ties but from a First Nations perspective it represented relationship networks through which resources could flow.  3 2  61  in marital unions historically (Marshall, 1993). The game can be seen as a ludic touch in a serious socio-political exchange and production by the pair. The game may also be seen as a test of the goodness offit between the perceptual strategies of the groom and the bride in the context of the groom's family and territory, reflecting patrilocal residency patterns. I remember the night my boy friend petulantly introduced me to Richard, his nephew, the Nuu-chah-mdth man I would later marry. M y distinct recollection of that encounter was the nephew's acumen in systems analysis. His most inventive and comprehensive comparisons were in developing the parallel outcomes between the human digestive system and the bureaucracy of the Department of Indian Affairs. He was a student majoring in English and Anthropology who fished during summers. He was a nephew, with whom, my friend, his uncle, avoided intraction because of social status contradictions created by the contradictions between traditional Nuu-chah-nulth and contemporary life careers. The uncle was younger than the nephew was. The uncle was two years behind him in university. The older, more traditional nephew was more educated and more fluent in the Nuu-chah-nulth language than the younger, more modern uncle was. I could relate to Richard's intellectual resources, his conceptual agility in cross-cultural communication and his rhetoric, the mark of his orality. He was linguistically adept like the grandfather I had lost as a young child, a man with whom to play chess and other strategic, social "games". He was a man with whom I could "play" in socially and conceptually inventive ways, possibly a man to spend time with, potentially a suitable partner for cultural and other (re) productions (Atleo, M . R., 1989). Such gamesmanship can be seen as a test of intellectual resources as well as a test of moral and spiritualfitbetween people, material resources, and mating strategies.  62  Games are a culturally valued ability, a family test that women treasure and in which they delight. I remember sitting in the car in an outdoor mall in Richmond when a young girl and her grandmother were walking by on the red brick sidewalk. The little girl looked up at her grandmother and said referring to the pattern on the sidewalk, "Is it a game, Grandma?" My heart leaped because as I was waiting, I found myself "playing" with the design of the sidewalk, arranging and re-arranging it in my imagination the way Nan would encourage me to "play" with the landscape. "No", said her grandmother, "Its just a design." Then the little girl, holding her grandmother's hand looked at the sidewalk lingeringly as she moved on. I wanted to shout at the grandmother to let the girl play with the sidewalk, that it was not merely a "design" but a place to exercise her imagination and learn to embody her territory. It was a place where the concreteness of bricks could become deconstructed by the playful mind of a girl child to prepare her for powerful cultural creativity. Nevertheless, she was being disempowered in the reproductive logic of technicalities by her grandmother. A Postcolonial Order: A Better Body/Text Fit Finding a moral and spiritual fit is critical in all aspects in the life of First Nations people. First Nations people made it clear in the colloquially known "Red Paper" (Indian Chiefs of Alberta, 1970) that control over the education of their children was critical because education is ultimately a moral and spiritual pursuit. After years of moral and spiritual betrayal by a system of residential schooling, First Nations people resisted from the brink of annihilation to regain control of their technologies of survival. The way the non-Native had been brokering these technologies through formal schooling was associated with death and cultural devastation. Native people felt morally justified in  63  taking over that role to broker value and survival to children who would have to survive in a non-Native world. From the earliest times, education had been recognized as a source of symbolic cultural capital and desired by First Nations people for their children and themselves (Indian Chiefs of Alberta, 1970; Miller, 1996). Training and skill development were not foreign to First Nations child development philosophy (Atleo, M . R., 1989 ; Kawagley, 1  1995; Mclvor, 1995). Child development is adapted to cultural contexts (Valsiner, 1989). In the context of the extended family, aboriginal children could learn a repertoire of complimentary models within a social, technical, and physical context by "looking, listening and learning" (Miller, 1996:16). Each aboriginal culture had a worldview that was an educational setting. In such worldviews, children could learn a complex of attitudes, skills and competencies.  Such competence complexes would assure that they  could situate themselves meaningfully in a social, physical and spiritual universe in which they could participate successfully by contributing to the welfare and defense of their community. The imported schooling offered by the missionaries was substantively different in content, context and methodology. It was a schooling not founded on local knowledge but a set of references from Europe. Such distance between place and interaction seems to reflect a truly cyborgian philosophy of education (Haraway, 1997). The schooling offered by missionaries was interestingly Eurocentric in content, context and methodology (Adams, 1995; Miller, 1996). The educational product imported into North America was a newly minted commodity reflectingstructuralization and institutionalization of learning in early modernity (Hamilton, 2000). Etymological evidence suggests that syllabus entered the English language in the early 1500s with class following shortly thereafter (1519), catechism by 1540, curriculum by 1573, and didaktik  64  by 1613, signaling a major change in the attention from learning to instruction. Hamilton (2000) calls this an "instructional turn" which signaled a significant change from the old art of teaching to a new methodized art of translating ideas into practice. It marked a shift in the focus of learning to approximate an ideal shifted to a regime of Blidung or political development (Hamilton, 2000). Individualism of early humanism gave way to an ideology of routine, order and above all, method to reproduce civilized community members. Speed and efficiency were hallmarks of modernity, which required a move to questions and answers to test catechumen's knowledge, keep their attention and enhance their comprehension. "[The] instructional turn compromised changes in the relationship between teaching and learning. These activities became bound together - or mediated - by classroom aids, including catechisms. In effect the pedagogic relationship (between teacher and learner), became transformed into the didactic relationship (between learner and curriculum)" (Hamilton, 2000:5). This reified product was imported into the New World for the edification of First Nations people by an everincreasing number of European settlers. This educational Eurocentricity meant that European cultural commonsense, "mutant catechisms" (Hamilton, 2000), and methods of delivery, were the mainstays of the educational model applied to aboriginal North Americans. Mission schooling required that Native people accommodate to a Judeo-Christian mytho-logic in order to participate in education, for indeed, the mythos of a people provides the ideological background for cultural action, the logic-in-use. Consequently, European social history was the curricula, the reproductive program that Native children were expected to substitute for their own . European disease histories that were encoded into the immune 33  Ben Franklin (1706-1790) tells of an offer from "the Commissioners from Virginia" of a scholarship from Williamsburg College for the Six Nations to send "half a dozen" of their young 65  3 3  systems of the settlers and school staff created a health hazard for the Native children whose immune history was a product of a completely different evolution. Native Americans were subjected to an education in which reference points were from a different continent. A different history was substituted for their own. It turned out that European education for Native children was neither moral nor spiritual. European culture included low context perspectives (Hall, 1983) encrypted particularly in the English, German and French languages. Such low context perspectives included underlying assumptions which were not manifested but lay hidden in a rich repertoire of psychological extensions developed through a textual literacy, "natural" for living at a distance (Ong, 1982). The semantic content of language provided few clues that the reference points for the action and objects, the ground from which the metaphors sprang, were afar. The Biblical Jerusalem was in the Middle East, far from the North American territories in which First Nations lived. As people of a diaspora who had lived for millennia in a de-centered world, Jews, living under duress, developed sensibilities in which the spiritual and secular homes were distanced from each other. For example, for men to be "educated" there. "It is one of the Indian Rules of Politeness not to answer a public Proposition the same day that it is made; they think it would be treating it as a light manner, and that they show it Respect by taking time to consider it, as of a Matter important. They therefore deferr'd their Answer till the Day following; when their Speaker began, by expressing their deep Sense of the kindness of the Virginia Government, in making them that Offer; 'for we know, says he, 'that you highly esteem the kind of Learning taught in those Colleges, and that the Maintenance of our young Men, while with you, would be very expensive to you. We are convinc'd, therefore, that you mean to do us Good by your Proposal, and we thank you heartily. But you, who are wise, must know that different Nations have different Conceptions of things; and you will therefore not take it amiss, if our Ideas of this kind of Education happen not to be the same with yours. We have had some Experience of it; Several of our young People were formerly brought up at the Colleges of the Northern Provinces; they were instructed in all your Sciences; but, when they came back to us, they were bad Runners, ignorant of every means of living in the Woods, unable to bear either Cold or Hunger, knew neither how to build a Cabin, take a Deer, or kill an Enemy, spoke our Language imperfectly, were therefore neither fit for Hunters, Warriors, nor Counsellors; they were totally good for nothing. We are however not the less oblig'd by your kind Offer, tho' we decline accepting it; and, to our grateful Sense of it, if the Gentlemen of Virginia will send us a Dozen of their Sons, we will take great Care of their Education, instruct them in all we know, and make M E N of them.' (Lauter, 1998: 754-755). 1  66  religious Jews or Zionists, Jerusalem may have been the spiritual center of the universe but "Any Street" in "Any Country" could become home. The diaspora writings of postcolonialists such as Bhabha (1994), Said (1993) and Spivak (1994) whose homelands as they knew them have disappeared in the political reorganization of modernity exhibit a de-territorialization and de-centration similar to the most textualized diaspora documented in the canon of the west, the Torah or Old Testament of the Bible. While some members of diaspora that came to settle North America came under duress, many came by choice. Colonists who came by duress or by choice also began to live distanced from their "spiritual" and "cultural" homes in their self designated "new world". While these new people lived in the territory, the European reference points were often always "in the old country". Evidence of such thinking were' place names such as "New York", "New Amsterdam," "Durham County" bestowed upon new world settlements with reference to "back home". First Nations people were attempting to deal with the new people living in their territory by relating to them directly, not understanding that the face-to-face interaction left much un-revealed. First Nations people had expected the education of the missions to be both moral and spiritual because the priests and nuns continuously spoke of God. First Nations leadership listened to these juxtapositions of spirituality, morality, and education. They took the religious at their word by providing land for schools and cooperated by delivering their children (Miller, 1996). However, the reference points of the European missionaries and those of the First Nations were fundamentally different. The missionaries had European reference points complete with a morality, a spirituality informed by reference points at a distance. Colonists were aware that their points of reference were at a distance, that the standards to be applied were their own (Jaenen  67  1986; Furness, 1992; Tinker, 1993)  J4 3 5 J b  . These religious educators were very clear  that their teachings were to be substitutes for the local knowledge and teachings that were available to First Nations people. As educators using their own experience as pedagogy, the missionaries seemed to lack the reflexivity to understand implications of the distanced nature of their spirituality, morality, psychology, and educational methodology. The spiritual thinking presented to the children had an abstract quality very different from the earth-bound spirituality so evident at home. The teaching was filled with rules and punishments rather than the moral logic that filled the narratives and stories that the grandparents told. The unconditional positive regard and compassionate minds of grandparents' and the community were replaced with punishments, and restrictions, as incentives to learning. The mission education did not provide training and development in "mythic thinking", the kind of thinking that could make sense of history and the present at the same time, the kind of thinking that was and is associated with oral traditions in which sensation had not yet been reduced to words (Ong, 1982). First Nations resisted and rejected these teachings and methods. Huron, Iroquoian, and Mohawk children were already dropping  In 1688, Mother de l'Incarnation observed that "it is however a very difficult thing, although not impossible, to francize or civilize them. We have had more experience in this than any others..[w]e find docility and intelligence in them, but when we least expect it they climb over our enclosure and go to run the woods with their relatives,, where they find more pleasure than all the amenities of our French houses. Savage nature is made that way; they cannot be constrained, and if they are they become melancholy and their melancholy makes them sick. Besides, the Savages love their children extra-ordinarily and when they know that they are sad they will do everything to get them back, and we have to give them back to them (Jaenen, 1986:58)." J 4  Furness (1992) reports on the legacy of the Williams Lake Residential School during the early days of the Residential School investigation by the Cariboo Tribal Council. 3 5  Tinker (1993), a Native American theologian, interrogates the contribution of prominent missionaries to the cultural genocide of Native Americans and concludes that it is ongoing because gospel values have been confused with European cultural values with genocidal results. 3 6  68  out of schools in Quebec in the mid 1600's even with "the Jesuits' conniving, blandishments and pressures " (Miller, 1996:44). There was little hope in the classroom for the First Nations person whose history was denied. Not until aboriginal people like the Brants, in the tradition of Thayendanega (Captain Joseph Brant) at Six Nations got involved was there some systematic success in schooling (Miller, 1996). Because Aboriginal teachers had to reconcile personal sociohistorical and professional development in their educational process, they could mediate the disparate worldviews of their experience in ways that non-aboriginal teachers never could. The construction of instruction, the curriculum alone, could not reflect such since it contained the "instructional turn" constructed of vestiges of hidden culture. The instructional turn is a dimension which well-meaning educators have yet to excavate from the bowels of their practice in an age of postmodernism and postcolonialism, a necessary project if there is to be a politics of hope in education (Giroux, 1997). Mythic Sensibilities At a very deep level, mythic thinking is required to appreciate and exercise competence in decoding cultural relations and artifacts. Teaching requires mythic sensibilities (Moore, 1996) that can both create and interpret teachings. This is a sensibility "so deep, so collective in tone, full of memory that goes back so far as to feel antecedent to personal life and even to human life" (p. 20). First Nations people lived steeped in mythic sensibility. Mythic thinking and sensibilities are products of experience and training in oral traditions that can create and re-create teachings. Some characteristics of logic are suggested by Akan (1992), Lightening, (1992) and Ong (1982) to differentiate between oral and literate styles of thought and expression. Oral logic is considered to be additive rather than subordinate or analytic (Ong, 1982). 69  Elders are considered to teach in metaphors (Akan, 1992; Lightening, 1992). Oral logic is typified as being redundant, conservative, close to the life world, antagonistically toned ("under distancing situates knowledge within a context of struggle" (Ong, 1982: 44). Oral logic is considered to be empathic (Ong, 1982). Elders are portrayed as teaching with a compassion and gentleness that is not to disturb or antagonize the learner/listener (Akan, 1992; Lightening, 1992). Oral logic is deemed to be homeostatic and situational rather than abstractly identified (Ong, 1982). Orality involves extensive use of listening that can permit the external world to register on the internal world with sound "without violating it" (Ong, 1982: 71). A philosophy of listening then would be central to an oral tradition in which oral histories and mythologies are featured. A philosophy of listening requires the active engagement of the listener with the teller of the story (Akan, 1992; Lightening, 1992; Fiumara, 1992) and their mutually constructed environment. There are three major ways in which stories are used in Nuu-chah-nulth First Nations learning, informal learning in instructional moments, formal learning during private individual ritual and activities and formal learning during public group rituals and ceremonies. The stories of First Nations people are often told in instructional moments, learning opportunities. The teaching often did not begin until the listener was ready. Nuu-chah-nulth teachings suggest that meals were the best time to "feed" the listener stories because they would be more receptive. Another "best time" is when the individual sought out the teaching and was ready to hear. The reciprocity between the storyteller and the listener was seen as a deeply structured dialectic that required high levels of engagement by both parties. For Nuu-chah-nulth, these may be directly instructional, haa-huupa (lectures) or himwitsa (entertaining stories often about the mythical past). Evenings were the time for repeated telling of stories complete with songs and noises and riddles and jokes. Stories were performances usually by elders who 70  had the cultural world and territories inscribed in their bodies to be played back with the words of the story. Stories within stories were performed at the Kluqucmna and other ceremonies because the stories were enacted in song and dance and rhetoric. The stories formed the backdrop against which the present made sense in these formal settings. The third setting for formal use of stories was in ritual sites where individuals and sometimes their partners used stories to develop goals and plans of enactment. The informal use of stories is usually emphasized because the formal public setting for education with stories, the Kluquanna, was outlawed with the potlatch laws and the private, personal use of stories may be seen as too intimate, to psychological to consider educational. Mythic sensibility and thinking is the living individual experience of participating in a larger collective experience of these mythologies through listening and feeling. It is in these mutual sensibilities that symbolic cultural capital is recognized. Over the past several hundred years the symbolic cultural capital of Nuu-chah-nulth and other First Nations has been denied or plundered with impunity but has survived. The stories have been plundered as ethnographies just as the ceremonial artifacts, de-legitimated and hidden away. The discounting of the mythological traditions left First Nations people effectively powerless, in part because of the loss of intimate connections found in oral traditions between bodily cues between the stories and action. Lightning (1992) and Akan (1992) help us to understand the process of textualization and the understanding of elders in practice. Lightning (1992) traces the process of textualization by citing Cree Elder Louis Sunchild's principles. The principles of unity include connecting our mental, biological, emotional and spiritual dimensions and cycles of time in which to maintain balance. This allows us to maintain a connectedness between others, and ourselves and cultivate compassion as a discipline so  71  that we can create harmony behaviorally, attitudinally, in our interactional dynamics, within and between our bodies and those of others. Akan (1992) makes twelve observations about understanding Saulteaux elders. Of these, I cite only a central imperative for understanding for each. 1) Cultivate an attitude of gratitude. 2) Cultivate perseverance. 3) Pursue active good thinking. 4) Employ repetition checks that reinforce understanding. 5) Use "good talk", a prayer, a hope, a model. 6) Wait expectantly for the narrative to make sense. 7) Remember that understanding lies in the reciprocities between teaching and learning. 8) Listen for the multidimensions (i.e., ceremonial, reality, metarealities, personalities) of elder-speak. 9) Traditionalist Saulteaux teaching (i.e., synchronizing concept and action) crystallizes in metaphor. 10) The multidimensional nature of Saulteaux cosmology is not easily conveyed in text. 11) The teachings are provided and learned embedded in multiple environments, difficult to convey in text form. 12) Value reasoning and a good spirit aids learning for cultural competence. Akan's reflection on the translation of elder teaching into text suggests a progression that combines both procedural and declarative knowledge that is embedded in the practical reasoning of individuals that can be highly personal. There is a highly intimate tone to Akan's (1992) conversation with Alfred Manitopeyes that makes me uncomfortable in this translation possibly because the sacredness expressed between the Elder and Akan is not usually of a public order. It seems too intimate, too personal. It makes me feel like a "spy". This conversation is within culture and I feel uncomfortable because it is Saulteaux and I do not know Saulteaux culture and I do not feel contextualized enough. Manitopeyes' distinction is between schooling and Saulteaux teaching, suggesting that the ideal is to be able to balance the two in a bi-focal education. Elders often seem more modern than the young do because they know how to integrate new ideas, technology and social practices into 72  the culture. Elders possibly have the developmental ability to shift between perspectives whereas younger people do not have the personal or cultural development and hence flexibility to readily transform cultural forms. To me, Manitopeyes is not telling us to incorporate these intimate teachings into schooling but to bring the non-native teachings of formal education into cultural ways of learning (where they can be tested). By validating her version of the conversation with the elder in collaborative interaction, Akan brings us into the cultural context of the interaction. With this enlarged understanding of the dimensions of protocol, I can begin to consider how to treat the Umeek narrative in the context of such protocols identified by First Nations (re)searchers as important. Nan Margaret placed me in the center of her action and storied me in my world. Her oral method was to teach me the bodily, visual, social, linguistic and environmental cues as signs of our mutual world. Her string figures, cloudscape analysis, and driftwood animals were all teaching aids to help me see the unseen. She taught me how to anticipate the possible by endlessly straining for signs on the Channel that runs in front of Maaqtusiis. I learned to watch and listen diligently, emptying my body of noise to perceive the signs. We processed my perception dialogically. She assisted me in embodying this new-to-me world as she wove me through reading of the signs in the poetics of metonymy and synecdoche. She taught me to weave myself into a new-to-me world that would become my world as I situated myself beside my husband's seat and it became my niismaa, my home. She storied me as a legacy for my children, her k aa?uuc w  (grandchild) and Xaayacqum (great grandchild). Nan Margaret indicated very clearly, where I was situated. She wove me and my children into the genealogies of the Nuuchah-mdth until it became a solid weave. She provided me a pattern for a present and future self in which I could no longer differentiate myself as a mamulthnee, a person who 73  floats in boat, a person with no territorial connection, a "white person". She had incorporated me into the warp and weft of her weave, into the very fabric of Nuu-chahmdth past, present, and future even as she wove the whale and the thunderbird onto her baskets. I had become a willing container for her culture. With Nan Margaret, I participated in an education that transformed me culturally, psychologically, socially, physically, and bodily. How different this was from a textualized education, from a psychologically distanced Eurocentric worldview that demanded that First Nations people leave their bodies and indigenous sensibilities behind to learn. How different from an education in which the metaphorical strategy of modernity dominated consciousness because the "thing" had been lifted out of the "context of signs" to take on a life of its own. Learning a "life world" through schooling is like an out of body experience where the only connections may have been made between the sounds of phonics and the visual letters which connected the word and the body. To achieve the ability to function in a Eurocentric textuality required a distancing from the body and an understanding of the mythological systems of a foreign worldview. This was the case for Nuu-chah-mdth and colonized people all over the world. The social movement of de-colonization has at its center cultural reclamation which brings First Nations people to a place where symbolic and material cultural capital are being "Hamaat-sup," called home from museums from around the world, out of attics and smokehouses, dusted off, brought out to be shown and heard, felt and experienced. Nuu-chah-mdth people watch ourselves participating with the story that has been unfolding from time immemorial. Moore's (1996) conceptualization of mythic thinking/sensibility begins to come closest to my experience. Myth can provide salvation in the face of the pragmatics of everyday demands. Mythic thinking liberates me in the  74  crucible of oppression when the waves are high and the struggle must and will go on. Mythic thinking helps me to be inclusive because its wellspring is natural rationality, which involves me bodily, sensorally. Mythic thinking allows me to acknowledge concrete, secular realities without being earthbound. Mythic sensibility cradles me in the crux of time that provides more than a historical sensibility. The concern of psychology with secular constructions of living has wrung the breath out of the body. The concern of sociology with the construction of right and left angles of society hardens the relationships that are tenuous at best and fleeting at least into bricks to build centers of bureaucracy or to throw through store windows. Education motivated by moral and spiritual needs is the quest of First Nations people. The "Red Paper" (Indian Chiefs of Alberta, 1970) reflected the stand that First Nations people took demanding the right to meaningfully participate in the educational quest. While there have been some inroads over the past twenty-five years there is a need for greater participation. There needs to be a more meaningful opportunity beyond the constraints of the demands of an as yet un-negotiated social contract between First Nations and the levels of Canadian governments, the vestiges of which are compressed into the classroom, texts, pedagogy, and curriculum. Adult education has historically been associated with "spreading the word" and advancing social movements and is currently preoccupied with filling the culture gap between technological innovation, global resource restructuring and finite elasticities of human adaptation. For First Nations this gap has been very wide. While adult education began slowly, it is now exploding to address the needs of Native communities. Adaptive capacities often lag behind the uncritical acceptance of technological innovations. As treaties are being negotiated in British Columbia, First Nations communities are  75  beginning to analyze the nature of their engagement with technological innovations ranging from organizational development in governance and health care to energy use in ecologically sensitive areas. However, for First Nations, some of the biggest gaps are the current lack of value accorded to mythic sensibilities in the educational system and the lack of opportunity for creative expression. Capacity building in Third World economies and restructuring of capacity in the transforming economies of the Western World are important areas of participation by adult educators. Capacity building in the Fourth World, the indigenous world, has been mainly an uncritical acculturation of self-colonization through upgrading and college transition programs. High levels of public resources are being invested in training and skill development for new work in both First Nations and non-First Nations communities. The economic participation issues, which have long faced First Nations workers, are facing more of the general population. A reorientation to the notion of work is required. While much government supported training and skill development is going on, the new work is still largely undefined. Influenced by the work of French economic and social theorists, Rifkin (1996) predicted a new social contract in which production of information, communications, and intellectual property prevails, giving rise to a predominantly social economy. And while Toffler (1980) predicted information economies, there was little expectation of the extent to which social dimensions would be brought into the foreground. This change in focus foregrounds the social aspects of the information economy and backgrounds the material aspects. The shift from a materialist perspective, foregrounding concrete resources, to a social perspective, foregrounding social and informational resources, is vital at a time in history where we stand on the threshold of  76  ecological crisis. Historically, the occupational orientations of Western societies to work has been instrumentally defined as employment, occupation, and career. If we are undergoing a transformation from materially defined production to understanding production as socially constructed, we may need new metaphors for work and the production of knowledge for work. Revisiting vocation as the moral and spiritual orientation to social production may be timely. To move from a material to a socio-cognitive orientation it may be useful to look to Fay (1987) who suggests that underlying theory are master narratives, stories, myths that have guided western society from antiquity. A postmodern perspective such as that provided by Lyotard (1997) suggests that the consciousness of the global village denies master narratives, instead; the narratives of peoples abound and prevail as a many-layered infrastructure of global society. To tap into these underlying narratives would seem to require mythic sensibilities and mythic thinking rather than mythological production. As a multicultural nation, Canadian society would theoretically be a product of the ancient teachings of many societies. For government to support the re-orientation of First Nations populations to changing global economic opportunities would seem to require an understanding of how some First Nations narratives become the underlying plot lines in personal narratives. Cochran (1990) maintains that it is such underlying plot lines that motivationally organize vocational interest and direction. It is possible that principles of narrative legacies can be transformed repeatedly in a process of reorientation to resource structures if social organization is fore grounded and mythic sensibilities engaged. Understanding the relationship between career development and narrative (Cochran, 1997) becomes a key aspect of learning and educating for continuity and change. While the concept of instrumental knowledge (Habermas, 1971) has been  77  translated as technological knowledge, the word vermittlung connotes systems that mediate. This points to the need for an instrumental knowledge base about systems that mediate transformational learning i.e. socially embedded narratives that structure the transformation (Csikzentmihalyi & Beattie, 1979). Summary In this second chapter, I have shaken more stories out of my qa?uuc (utility basket). Concerned with the problem of Nuu-chah-mdth disappearing into the landscapes of non-native psyches to become invisible and negated, I introduced two men in the full range of their figurative substance: as chiefs in the sweep of myth, history and constitutive interests as enacted in their life careers. I explained the process whereby Nan Margaret wove me into the basket materially and culturally even as she rewove herself a in new order of self reflexivity in the movies, through access to new technologies and social access and, of course, a plethora of containers. Basketry is gives way to Tupperware in which embodied production knowledge gives way to social production of consumption knowledge. Luther's Bible gives us some insight about spirituality rooted in one's own language that it might be available for ones' own logic-in-use. The alienation of modernity and access to mass market goods are some of the containers from which I have drawn forth the problem, identified the purpose and also illuminated the background for the story in which my study is situated. The central problem is that traditional Nuuchah-mdth First Nations (hi)stories and learning theory are absent from the current education of Nuu-chah-mdth First Nations. Consequently, the purpose of this study is to gather together a complex of Nuu-chah-mdth narratives that they may be confirmed by Elders and then analyzed for the learning theory encoded in their structure, content, dynamics and situation.  78  I began chapter one with the concept of "ma'mook" (work) and that of "ga'uttc" (utility basket) because cultural tools are required to create cultural utilities that demand deep cultural learning. Universal and particular aspects of basketry and action processes are metaphors that speak to the heart of learning. While Archibald (1997) and I approach cultural work differently, we can use the same principles and processes to provide some standards for this work. Salishan and Wakashan/Nuu-chah-nulth people live side by side and, over millennia, have come to some similar protocols for cultural activity that are also useful for working cross-culturally. First Nations cross-cultural protocols have been usurped over a period of active colonization by European powers, replaced by epistemic violence and disrespect for boundaries of cultures, peoples and selves. The cultural work possible here is to reestablish some of these boundaries so that what was, is, and what may be can be tried. In this way, we can possibly measure the gap between non-native teaching and native learning at a level that is greater than the individual. Understanding education as a cultural gap between theory and practice allows us to examine the dynamic between the two as culture specific, mediated by cultural stories that weave the individual into the "storybasket" of the group and its social system. From this perspective we can possibly better understand that within this cultural weave are scripts for life careers that permit expectations and make day-to-day navigation more socially predictable and not just a biological process. After more than 4000 years of elaboration in the territory, Nuu-chah-nulth culture has developed as socially and politically complex. While the lifestyle dominance of western institutions (state work, school, religion) has disrupted the cultural life career of Nuu-chah-nulth, to understand the effects we need to go back to understanding the  79  sacred. Historically, in the western world also, sacredness was central to living. In the context of European development to modern times, that sacredness in, for example, work/occupation/vocation, was seen to have developed from a calling, to a trade/profession and more recently to a stage of the life span. These shifts are made possible through a socio-historical analysis that reflects the demands of a global village requiring continuous re-orientation to change.  80  Chapter III - Klaaq-ish-peethl - Standards and Sorting Criteria  In the first two chapters, I provided an overview of this investigation and stories that were gathered, both from the oral Nim-chah-nulth and the modern scientific tradition of ethnography. In this chapter, I investigate the manner in which the narratives have been gathered, their thematic authenticity about learning through interviews with the Elders and a narratological analysis of the stories to understand the context. Thus, I begin this section with a detailed description of the methodological rationale to provide a lens that the reader can use in looking for the grounding of the stories of the Umeek Narratives before they are presented in Chapter IV. The criteria and protocol for Elder participation is described and the elders are introduced. The method of the narratological analysis is then described. Klaaq-ish-peethl, literally means "(liquid) fat poured (on the ground) " which in 37  a traditional economy of sealing and whaling, suggests a bounty and level of success in which the riches are so plentiful that the fat literally runs all over the ground or is thrown on the fire to demonstrate the excess. The methodology then is from a perspective of where plenty or bounty, if appropriately accessed, can be grabbed out of the air  3%  requiring an attitude of positive expectation. The connotation of success in this economy is also based in a cultural method for achievement in which appropriate conduct permits the materialization of anything which can be grabbed out of the air or conceptually The blubber or fat of sea mammals when rendered becomes liquefied at room temperature, turning into a golden amber that traditionally could be burned for light and heat in the big houses during feasts. The fat of land mammals is generally hard at room temperature. The re-built Atleo big house had a complimentary name meaning "fat that was hard" or Himix-klaaq. The reciprocal names suggest that it was a house with bountiful land and sea resources in which this bounty could de and re-materialize. During a 1970 birthday feast planning session for Shawn Atleo, when someone asked which songs would be sung, Joe Titian said that there were so many to choose from, such bounty, that they could be "grabbed out of the air". 3 8  81  constructed. Consequently, this chapter discusses the process and rationale of the study: "why this way" as methodology and "how" as method. Investigating Nini-chah-nalth narratives about Umeek as a learning site required that I be sensitive to the place of these narratives from a traditional Nuu-chah-mdth cultural perspective, understand the role of these narratives from an oral perspective, and apprehend what happens when these narratives are textualized into another language and then again made accessible in English for Nuu-chah-mdth and others. Interaction with the Elders during an interview phase shed light on this process. Being able to analyze the teachings of these narratives to see if they contain useful models of learning requires a deconstruction of the narrative by issues salient to Nuuchah-mdth cultural perspectives and an examination of the story by elders for what it says about learning. My approach reflects assumptions of cultural continuities such as outlined by Golla (1988) from her work with the Tseshaht and thus employs aspects of culture that can cut through social and economic change and disruption (e.g., aspects of social structure). The 4Rs (reverence, respect, responsibility, and relations) & 4Ds (wholism, interrelatedness, reciprocity, and synergy) guide the process through the levels of investigation. Methodology Issues of learning and change in socio-economic roles as (re) orientation are best addressed by a qualitative methodology that Trudy Frank, an Ahousaht elder, maintains entails, "Just watching until it becomes clear to you" (2000, personal communication). From a western perspective, I look to narrative inquiry using tropic (metaphoric) and narrative analysis to interrogate the narratives and a grounded theory approach to the reflections of the elders.  82  A subjective phenomenological approach is most suitable to "draw our attention to the always presupposed and actually present background of our actual experience...dispensing with the traditional mystifications..." (Langer, 1989, p. xvi). Phenomenological psychology can contribute because it seeks to "uncover, ... the behavioral side of the total unvarying structure of phenomena, meaning-oriented behavior's complete 'how'" (Fuller, 1990, p. 33) mediating between physical energies existing outside the organism and the meanings on the inside. Fuller (1990) presents phenomenology as the science of meaning events, which takes us into hermeneutics. A hermeneutic, in which "Verstehen" in the tradition of Dilthey (Rickman, 1979) is used to bridge the gaps between the initial ethnographic production by Boas (1897) and the later versions and (re) interpretations. These (re) interpretations include my synthesis informed by Nuu-chah-mdth teachings and those texts produced by non-Natives (Boas, 1897, 1909, 1921; Curtis, 1916; Sapir & Swadesh, 1939; Drucker, 1951). The oral renditions remembered by contemporary Nuu-chah-mdth fill in the gaps. This research triangulates between the text(s), the perceived meanings of the oral versions and the practice of contemporary Nuu-chah-mdth as understood by the Elders as they reflect back on their history. Bourdieu (1990, 1993) contributes to the time/space components of meaning, perception and experience in this context by his insight on habitus. Bourdieu (1990, 1993) conceptualizes habitus as a "system of durable, transposable dispositions, structured structures, disposed to function as structuring structures, that is, as principles which generate and organize practices and representations that can be objectively adapted to their outcomes without presupposing a conscious aiming at ends or an express mastery of the operations necessary in order to attain them." (1993:5). Habitus has been described as a feel for an activity or that which constitutes common sense, "a set of dispositions which generates practices and perceptions... the 83  result of a long process of inculcation, beginning in early childhood which becomes... second nature" (1993:5). This system of dispositions provides the principles of continuity, regularity and transformations in the context of a field of social relationships to maintain a relational mode of cultural production. Within the field of cultural production, Bourdieu posited that the objective relations between social positions are important to the type of production in the field, which they occupy. Such production is not restricted to material production but may include restricted (small scale 'market') production and include symbolic capital ("the degree of accumulated prestige, celebrity consecration or honour and is founded on a dialectic of knowledge and recognition") (1993:7) and cultural capital. The latter is a form of knowledge, an internalized code or a cognitive acquisition which equips the social agent with empathy towards appreciation for or competence in deciphering cultural relations and artifacts...(which) is accumulated through a long process of ... pedagogical action of the family or group members (family education) educated members of the social formation (diffuse education) and social institutions (institutional education), (p. 7) The concept of habitus in a cultural field may be seen as a "radical contextualization" and is inseparable from Bourdieu's theory of practice in which the systematic unity of social life and the existence of structural and functional homologies among all the fields of social activity permit the transfer of concepts from one field to another that the epistemological tradition recognizes in analogy. He derived his logic of cultural practice through field work with the Kabyle and then turned it inward on his own embodied Frankish habitus to more deeply understand its 'fuzzy logic' or mimesis that 39  defies the logician (1993). Consequently, we look to the Elders who have embodied  Mimesis (from the Greek, imitation) is more like representation rather than imitation in the way that a photo represents the physical reality of a flower, a moment, a person. The poet, the painter, the novelist all create a mimesis of reality (Audi, 1999:572). 3 9  84  Nuu-chah-mdth habitus and who are of a developmental age at which they can reflect on their own practice and that of the community in light of history and the present and who have future expectations. Participant Criteria I had proposed to ask five Nuu-chah-mdth elders both male and female to participate with me in this project. In the group of participants, I wanted to include at least one pair that had cohabited over much of a complete life career (including a period of child rearing) to confirm the translations and provide additional insights from their developmental perspectives both as individuals and as partners in the process. Consequently, I solicited participants based on several criteria. One was linked to their ability to move between oral and textual ways of thinking because they would have to read the story and relate to the story through a Nuu-chah-mdth way of knowing. This meant that the participants all were textually literate, spoke Nuu-chah-mdth and had demonstrated some belief in the value of educational participation. I spoke with thirteen people and handed out as many information packages that included the Stories of Umeek, the questions to be asked in the interviews and the consent forms. Most of these information packages were handed out so that the individuals would know what the study was precisely about on a need to know basis. Five people chose to participate. Three individuals received copies of the Stories of Umeek so that they could comment on the use of names only. One of the individuals to whom I had given a package refused because he felt that "women steal knowledge from the families of the men they become involved with". The rest of those who received packages were generally unresponsive when I asked when they would have time for an interview. As I read that as reluctance to participate, I did not pressure them. Several other packages were handed out and  85  interviews were attempted. Information was exchanged informally. Because potential participants could read the stories first, they had control over whether they wanted to talk about material, which might seem sensitive. The Interview Procedure My interview procedure operated at two levels. First, the interview procedure I used was modeled at one level after that developed by Craig and Smith (1997) in the context of academic requirements for First Nations topics developed through the Long Beach Model Forest by the Traditional Ecological Knowledge Group. Craig and Smith sought permission from Chief Umeek (Dr. E . Richard Atleo) to work in the territory of his ha-hoo-thee (rights and obligations of management) and with the people of his hahoo-thee (those who had participant roles). Second, at another level, my rights and obligations guided my interview procedure as part of the ha-hoo-thee of the Atleo lineage. My work was done with the permission, encouragement and participation of Chief Umeek (E. Richard Atleo) as a function of my role as his partner in the rights and obligations of this ha-hoo-thee. The procedure within the ha-hoo-thee, to which I must adhere is similar to the principles identified and systematized by Archibald (1997) that reflect relationships rather than methodological technicalities. Because of the ha-hoothee relationships, I stand as a relative and a co-participant with the interviewees. This second level of procedure has elements of participatory research that requires reflexivity of a high order to meet requirements of disclosure and methodological accountability by myself as researcher and ha-hoo-thee participant. Because these participants were closely related to me, I found it very awkward to move into an interviewing mode with them. The procedure I employed included understanding and acknowledging social relations of ha-hoo-thee and Nuu-chah-nulth 86  culture. Consequently, these are not merely "procedures" but "protocols". What are the "protocols" for interviewing relatives when the word "interview" denotes "an official formality and etiquette observance" (Hawkins, 1986)? What was my etiquette with them? A further investigation of the word "etiquette" brought me to the word "protocol" which in turn brought me to the notion of "glue" (Hawkins, 1986) and kolla/collagen which is "connective tissue" (Keeton & Gould, 1986). Collagen is comprised of protein fiber bundles that "are flexible but resist stretching and confer considerable strength on the tissues containing them" (Keeton & Gould, 1986:149). I could see that "protocols" in this instance were a social technology by which to maintain relationships between formal entities. "Protocol" is a word denoting a dynamic space created by individuals in which integrative connectiveness could be negotiated. I recognized that place. Nan Margaret had initiated me into that place as she taught me. I conducted the interviews in a dialogic process in which I actively participated as a participant with cultural knowledge. The Interviews One hour taped interviews were conducted with Nelson Keitlah, Gertrude and Edwin Frank, Louie Joseph, and Elsie Robinson. These interviews were conducted between August 18 and November 30, 1999. All of the respondents indicated on their letters of consent that they wanted to be identified especially since they saw the research as important to bring out the stories. Method Investigating Nuu-chah-nulth  narratives about Umeek as a learning site requires a  design that allows me to: 1) be sensitive to the place of these narratives from a traditional Nuu-chah-nulth  cultural perspective, 2) understand the role of learning in these narratives  from an oral perspective, 3) understand what happens when those narratives are written  87  (textualized) into another language and then made accessible for Nuu-chah-nulth and cross culturally. For the teachings of these narratives to be identified as learning models, which can be tested and theorized about, requires a deconstruction of the narrative synthesis. Issues salient to Nuu-chah-mdth cultural perspectives organize this deconstruction. Consequently, I used a perspective that focuses on cultural continuities, and as Golla (1989) outlines, enduring cultural dimensions that can cut through social and economic change and disruption and the voices of the Elders. My concept of this investigation was to look at the orienting function of the Umeek narratives and their enduring utility in a modern setting. Such continuity of orienting function would be made possible by a process of mapping attributes and qualities of the models in the stories into a modern context. Thus, the narratives remain the same but the personal translations by individuals reflect their own idiosyncratic mapping process. The idiosyncratic mapping process by many provides a pattern of overlapping cultural response to traditional ideology as expressed through such narratives. A similar mapping process was part of my learning through mentoring into Nuuchah-mdth culture by the elders in my family of re-orientation. This process began by their recognition of me structurally (as the partner of a seated person in a lineage) and was associated with particular ideological expectations for that position. I was not expected to grow up into a stereotypical Ahousaht-achsup but a particular woman in a particular position with particular roles that included standards of conduct, social obligations and privileges. Consequently, for me, the cultural logic, the logic of metaphoric transformations, became an important dimension of socialization. I recall  88  that among the earliest exercises was learning how "to frame" by watching Nan create string figures, and together finding "embedded" objects or pictures in the rocks, stands of forest, shells, or configurations of landscapes on our walks or from the window. This early skill training was a game for me that was "fun" as I followed her orientation. I enjoyed it and became good at it, making meaning with the woman who had been my partner's primary care giver when he was a young child. She interacted with me from a "compassionate mind" in which I was the grandchild's spouse that needed teaching and guidance in the right way to go. Indeed, it was like starting all over again, learning what to pay attention to and how to behave. Sometimes angry stares and sharp comments by maternal uncles curtailed my growing social self-confidence as an Ahousaht but Nan Margaret was always willing to answer my endless barrage of questions. Her cultural cues were never dogmatic or prescriptive but guided me by a poetic logic and a compassionate (inclusive, positively affective, encouraging, forgiving) mind, reminiscent of the experiences described by Lightening (1992) and Akan (1992) of learning from the teachings of Elders. My early immigration experience had been like being thrown into the deep end of the pool and being expected to swim. Nan's facilitation of my entry into Nuu-chahnulth cultural life was very different and the social refocusing a pleasure rather than a hardship. Marie-Francoise Guedon (1994) similarly reports that she was treated like a child that needed cultural socialization during her fieldwork among the Dene. This was in fact a much superior experience than my entry into Canadian culture had been where only the schoolteacher provided some orientation to what was required. Recently it occurred to me that one of the issues surrounding a historical record for First Nations is that the historical record is always embodied in the oldest living person as  89  opposed to being in a textual record. By looking at Elders and hearing about their lives, one can always see the proofs of the philosophy they espouse. We have living evidence of the proof of their philosophy and pragmatics. It is a process that does not require us to read about many dead ends, some of them literally "dead end philosophies", as with writers who commit suicide but whose thoughts live on to possibly ensnare others. When we speak with Elders, we can see how they have embodied history. Such embodied history presents authentic cultural re-creation as each generation of Elders who engage with cultural issues, attitudes, components, etc. works out traditional myths and stories in their lives. In the 1990-93 British Columbia Native Brotherhood and Sisterhood investigation of First Nations formal education in the province of British Columbia, E. R. Atleo (1993) and a group of First Nations Home School Coordinators from throughout the province devised an interview protocol which included questions about the attitudes of students, parents and teachers to historical perceptions of being "Native". For the First Nations developers of that survey protocol, the issues of attitudes toward their historical selves was a central component in their present day/moment decision making, present motivation and perceptions of future opportunities. The historical self of First Nations people was seen to be a critically important component of the pragmatics of modern identity. Working out issues associated with the historical self was seen to help the development of an integrated working self and to be of particular importance in the context of schooling. Social inclusion through government policy initiatives and international support magnified through mass media over time has provided support for the historical self of aboriginal people that has had some impact on success in the school system (Atleo, E. R., 1990).  90  While traditional narratives of the order of the Umeek narratives are not containers of history, they are orienting landmarks of the historical record to which the embodied script makes references in the projection of a future trajectory. Historical embodiment as a cultural strategy has some limitations but so does textualization without an embodied history. From one perspective, the Umeek, narratives tell the story about the disembodiment of an old vocation (sealing) and the embodiment of a new vocation (whaling) and the psychosocial disruption and reintegration of such a change occurring in a place, a worldview, and a history. The charge of Eurocentric philosophy and epistemology prevailing in education by First Nations people is very much related to the perceived distinction between-an embodied or disembodied sense of history and place as it is pedagogically conveyed. Consequently, First Nations pedagogy must address the issue of embodiment at some level. Using tropic (metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche and irony) analysis is one way of exploring the distinctions between embodiments of orality and the figurative language of textuality. Using metaphor like this creates a state in which things usually thought about become things with which to think. Concepts become conceptual tools and conceptual frameworks. Lakoff (1980) says "that the metaphoric mappings are motivated by the power of the source domain in pre-conceptual bodily (gestural) experience" (p. 105). This process, he maintains, arises from early bodily experiences that are at some level spaciotemporal extensions of cognitive schema of those experiences. It might be helpful to remember that I am not talking about all metaphors or figures of speech. Indeed some metaphors and figures of speech map from highly abstracted source domains to very concrete target domains. For example, Calliou's (1995:52-54) use of the pedagogical device of the medicine wheel, the circle and four  91  directions, to contemplate peacekeeping may be seen as an example of this process in curriculum development. She identifies the levels of associations within the principles of sacredness of the organization, unity and interconnectedness of the medicine wheel. There seem to be rules about how these principles fit together and the relationships between levels of association. She acknowledges that different communities have different associations for more concrete levels of association based on their respective cultures. She then maps her peacekeeping model onto the medicine wheel in the form of four constructs: racism, multiculturalism, anti-racism, and peacekeeping. She animates the discussion of her peacekeeping pedagogy with the power and unity and interconnectedness of the medicine wheel. She expounds on the rationale for each placement and connection. The motivational power of the medicine wheel trope (metaphor) provides a powerful dialectic to fuel such a pedagogical approach. The 40  comparative reflexivity this approach provides requires subjectivities to be justified and objectivities to be rationalized as the comparative logic moves between the two domains for students to apprehend. Phenomenological Orienteering: Metaphoric Mapping and Blending The method that comes closest to what is of interest to me begins with metaphoric mapping. Alverson (1991: 94-117) harnesses Lakoff s investigation of "over" as an image schema to expound on the many ways in which metaphor is related to experience beginning with Lakoff s definition of metaphor as "an experientially based mapping from an ICM (idealized cognitive model) in one domain to an ICM in another domain" (1987:  The power of the dialectics of tropic meanings is harnessed in the simultaneous integration and separation of the Calliou's (1995) use of the medicine wheel metaphor and the peacekeeping process that permits a metaphorical transcendance which embues the peacekeeping curriculum with the power of the medicine wheel trope (see Turner, 1991).  4 0  92  417). The idealized cognitive model is one that is perceptually held by an individual based in experience. Alverson (1991) goes on to maintain that, as such, dictionary definitions are often a history of past metaphoric extensions of prototypical models and can be seen in part as a history of past metaphoric activity comprised of a core schema and variations by which appear instances of prototypical aspects of the metaphor. Further, Alverson cites LakofFs assertion that "each metaphor has a source domain, a target domain, and a source to target mapping ... [and] is motivated by the structure of our experiences" (p. 103). Consequently, one would expect resonance, possibly at an experiential, pre-conceptual, gestalt level between structures of experience and prototypical aspects of metaphor. If traditional narratives served to conceptually organize the ability to shift between pre-conceptual and conceptual levels of understanding then it would be expected that elders might be able to recognize such shifts and be able to articulate the manner in which they are made. Matters of Salience Inasmuch as the structure of experience and the metaphors in the Umeek Narratives are salient to the Elders in the collaborative interviews one would expect that there might be overlap of aspects of the tropes of interest namely those associated with learning. To prompt potential structures of experience evoked by the narratives, some of the questions that I kept in mind during the interviews were: Were the names of the characters accessible to you? If they were not accessible, then why not? Do you recognize the names of the characters? If so, do you understand the meaning of the names? Can you tell what the relationships between the characters are? Do the characters seem believable or familiar? Can you relate to this story? Can you identify some of the conflicts of the story? Can you identify some of the themes of the story?  93  Can you identify learning opportunities, methods, and progressions in the story? In what situations do you see learning taking place? What types of learning are involved? I had these questions in mind. There seem to be several models and methods of learning in this narrative complex. The journeys of Umeek, his son, his rival, his father, the rival's witness, all seem to chart perspectives that have substance and interact in a range of ways to move the group as a whole to a new perspective, a new resource orientation. Each develops his own story in what seems to be hazardous spiritual, social and environmental contexts. Habermas (1971) suggests that our orientations are organized by our interests. It would seem to follow that our interests would also reorganize our reorientation. Each model seems to be reorienting to the need based on principles of its own perceived interests. Understanding the interaction between orientations (Ziller, 1988) and interests could be a useful approach to help adult educators support (re) orientations in programming and career choices.  94  Figure 2 - Phenomenological Field of Metaphoric Mapping.  Figure 2 provides a conceptual map for the discussion of how the narratives served to help the Elders look back into Nuu-chah-nulth tradition and make inferences about today and the future in the light of principles they read in the Umeek Narratives. The Umeek Narratives were the lens with which they viewed the source domain of Nuuchah-nulth tradition and mapped their reading onto the target domain of their contemporary bi-cultural milieu. As the Elders make meaning by moving back and forth between cultural domains, the target/source domains can blend as they do in the center of the diagram. This would lead to metaphoric blending (Fauconnier, 1997) and integrative complexity (Turner & Fauconnier, 1999) of skilled phenomenological orienteering (Alverson, 1991:95) that would be a key to maintaining an adaptive orientation but also require the ability to move between phenomenological fields. Phenomenologic orienteering consists of the mapping of salient aspects of metaphors from one domain (e.g., a cultural space) onto another domain (e.g., another social or cultural space). This becomes a highly complex, idiosyncratic activity.  95  The questions that may shed light on this process are: 1) What determines the structural choices in the source domain; 2) What determines the pairings in the source domain with the target domain; 3) What determines the details of the source to target mappings? (Alverson, 1991:99) Alverson maintains that to function as a source domain for a metaphor, the domain must be understood independent of the metaphor. The ground must be understood. How the individuals doing the mapping position themselves would also seem to be a factor. Consequently, cultural stories such as the Umeek Narratives heard by members of the culture would fit such logical strategies. Associations in daily experience may determine the pragmatics. While not all correlations in experience motivate metaphoric articulation, many do (Alverson, 1991). It would seem then that the Umeek Narrative must be understood in its own cultural logic to be understood as an independent source domain. Following consultations, elders were asked to participate in this process. Since the ethnographic account was recorded by an individual (George Hunt) whose links to lineage and hence to the story are unknown that was interrogated. If the mapper determines the choices about what the salient aspects are between the source domain and the target domain, I need to engage people to help me minimize my biases and ensure more Nuu-chah-nulth conventions of cultural logic, experience, teaching and patterns of relationships. Consequently, the four Elder participants who responded to my request for feedback would then be considered mappers who use the story to make sense of the questions about learning. Who would be other potential users of this story? How do individuals employ this story? How has the story been used publicly? One example of modern day materialization complete with rationale about how it works might be Richard Atleo's interview in the Ha-shilth-sa upon his graduation with  96  his doctorate in education from UBC. In the interview, he states that his three degrees are equivalent to Keesta's whales because they come from the same tradition. This would be an example of a mapping of the metaphor whales onto the metaphor post secondary degrees. Keesta landed two gray whales and a blue whale in his lifetime. Richard landed a B.A. and M.Ed., ordinary degrees. Then he landed a big one. He became the first British Columbian First Nations person to receive a Doctorate in Educational Administration from the University of British Columbia. The ma'mook and discipline for achieving both were seen by Richard to be of a similar order: secretive, hidden, difficult, away from the village, misunderstood, unknowable by others who had not gone through the process, etc. The benefit of these degrees to the First Nations community, Nuu-chah-mdth, Ahousaht, and the Atleo lineage were as valuable as whales. Whales became degrees in a new knowledge and information economy. Richard received the name Umeek at this time. Using metaphor like this creates a state in which things usually thought about are used to think with. Concepts become conceptual tools. Lakoff (1980) says, "that the metaphoric mappings are motivated by the force of the source domain in pre-conceptual bodily (gestural) experience" (cited by Alverson, 1991:105). This process arises from early bodily experiences and is at some level a cognitive extension of these experiences as we move through time and space (Seitz, 2000). Limitations of Method Metaphoric mapping as a methodology has not been found to have a widespread application in educational studies. While the utility and function of metaphor has been described from a wide range of perspectives, and science seems to be rife with metaphor, it is only recently that immaculate perceptions in formal scientific research are being 97  profoundly questioned (Fernandez, 1991:1). Indeed, the scientific model of inquiry, the Theory-Model-Data Triangle Metaphor by Leik and Meeker (1975) as discussed by White (1991) can be unfolded to demonstrate the metaphoric mapping phenomenon inherent in the model of inquiry itself (Refer to Figure 3).  Figure 3. Theory-Model-Data Double Triangle Metaphor. The theory-model-data triangle depicts the dialectic of the inductive and deductive process in the scientific enterprise. The model depicts the process by which theory, model, and data are mapped which is of particular interest as it is related to metaphorical mapping. Inductive modes include moving from theory to model (i.e., mathematical generalizations of theory), from model to theory (i.e. substantive interpretation of mathematical patterns), from data to model (i.e., mathematical generalizations of empirical patterns) and from data to theory (i.e. substantive interpretation of data). The deductive modes include moving from theory to model (i.e., formalization of theory), from model to theory (i.e., derivation of substantive hypothesis from mathematical patterns), from model to data (i.e., mathematical prediction or 98  extrapolation) and from data to theory (i.e., substantive prediction). The term substantive in this context refers to areas of interest or focus such as (in this study) learning or archetypal characteristics. The theory-model-data triangle depicts some of the many formal logical functions that occur in dialectical thinking. To understand what is occurring, it remains that the process needs to be disrupted in analysis. The mapping methodology has such intuitive effortlessness that we need to guard against being seduced by its parsimony when, in fact, upon analysis, it is complex and challenging. Moreover, while the underlying triangle metaphor looks precise, the lack of mathematical precision of the mapping process suggests that it is never precise but an approximation. Metaphor has not previously been used formally in research as a tool to investigate First Nations stories as source domains for metaphoric mapping from oral tradition. Expectations of Methodological Outcomes In addition to the production of knowledge, we could ask, does the test of relevancy of an oral narratives model or method have application to modern life; does the process of oral narratives have broader application; do the messages of some oral narratives have broader application; does this examination of the nature/mythology/existence of historical selves have any utility?  41  Elements of the Narratological Analysis The second major aspect of the methodology is the narratological analysis to identify the elements of the Umeek Narratives. The narratives are a synthesis from both As it relates to the Umeek narratives, the outlined methodology looks more like a research program than a thesis. For the thesis, it may have been sufficient to demonstrate the nature of the narratives as a source domain and the nature of that source domain as a potentially important map to use to find a trajectory into the future as it relates to learning. 4 1  99  the oral and ethnographic (textual) traditions. The narratives are presented in a Nuuchah-nulth philosophy oi Hisuk-ish-tsa'walk comprised of sacred, natural histories and cultural environments. The action is situated in the archetypal village, the sacred sites, on the beach and on the highway of the whale. The characters include: the elder chief, the younger chief, the feast guest, the son of the younger chief, the father of the younger chief, the wife of the elder chief, and the invisible wife  42  of the younger chief and mother  of his son. The themes include perceptions of change, engagement with change, learning strategies for such engagement. The conflicts are based in perceptions of change, response to change and engagement with change. Summary In this chapter, I have provided an overview of the methodology and the method whereby the Umeek Narratives were interrogated. In the context of the cross cultural, bifocal challenges of this study, the process of metaphorical mapping and blending, phenomenological orienteering seemed a potentially productive, if untried, method of inquiry. I have delineated the standards and criteria used in the methodology. The phenomenological approach was used to balance the just watching until it becomes clear approach. The participant criteria, the interview process and protocols were accounted for. The limits of and expectations for this method were explored. This methodological chapter provided the conceptual tools with which to strategically employ the watch until it becomes clear approach as I move to bring out the stories in the next chapter.  Albers & Medicine (1983) suggest that the general neglect of Indian women in the media and ethnography is evident in 20 century writing, as usual in such writings female perspectives and interests are not usually represented in the writings of male scholars and thus remain hidden. th  100  Chapter IV - Ha?maat-sup - Bringing Out the Stories  In Chapter Four, I continue to ma-mook turn turn (work of thinking) by bringing out more stories that I heard over the years from Ahousaht Elders (such as, Margaret Atleo, Teddy George, Mark Atleo, Trudy Frank, Mary Little, Robert Thomas, Alfred Keitlah, and Roy Haiyupis) and weaving them together with other stories recorded in several ethnographic sources to understand their cultural import. These include narratives with a focus on whaling or whalers or meek (Boas, 1921; Marshall 1993; Jonaitis, 1999; Golla, 1988; Curtis, 1916; Sapir & Swadesh, 1939) such as George Clutesi's (1990) story of the activities of the archetypal boysMeeA:, Qwin, Cholk-niss as well as fictionalized re-telling by Roderick Ffaig-Brown (1962, 1971). (See Appendix E for a discussion of how some of stories and the issues that they raise impinge upon my investigation of the Umeek Narratives). As with all gathered raw materials, the value and condition of these stories, their content, meanings and uses must be assessed before adding further cultural value or claiming that they represent something of value. Thus, the validity of these stories is verified by the authority of Nuu-chah-nulth Elders. This verification and validation process allows us to assess whether these stories represent a substantive enough tradition for the purpose of the identification of a repertoire of learning archetypes. Since these learning archetypes are embedded in the stories, a process of analysis was required to make the archetypes(s) visible against the background of territory and culture, orality and textuality, and present and past. Two types of analysis were possible. The first, is a Nuu-chah-nulth analysis that makes more salient the critical features and principles of these stories by looking at the principles, components, functions, and characters, etc. However, such an analysis may be impossible without the cultural self101  consciousness that arises from a critique external to the culture. Consequently, the Elders and I examined the critical features foregrounded in the stories. In keeping with the blended metaphor approach used in this work, there is also background developed through contributions from textual authorities and theory from both a Native and nonnative tradition. This permits enough information to make them separately identifiable domains. These contributions come from multiple discipline areas and levels of analysis as required to illuminate the argument. Conceptual and Theoretical Framework The stories of Umeek represent a Nuu-chah-mdth phenomenology, thus it becomes important to provide a strong framework in which to nest the narratives to balance an academic discourse that is strongly Eurocentric and textually biased. A strong framework in which to nest the Umeek Narratives is also required so that we can become sensitive to similarities as well as differences in cross-cultural interpretations (Bennett, 1986). A strong conceptual framework differentiates between the strong objectivity (Harding, 1991) of the narratives, a Nuu-chah-mdth historically and culturally mediated observation (Erkenntnisinterese, Scholte, 1984) and the strong objectivity of the methods, research Erkentnisinteresen, used to examine, analyze and interrogate these narratives. The narratives and the narratological methods used in their analysis are evidence of socially situated knowledge (Haraway, 1991). They came from different traditions and consequently need to be distinguished from one another. This issue becomes critical when the products of this research process are to be interpreted as outcomes of both rather than either culture. To be faithful to a First Nations perspective, this narrative is examined in a balanced logic of both/and that speaks to the interdependence of all things Hisuk-ishts'awalk- "everything is one" (related to ecological issues in, Bunnell & Atleo, 1995). 102  The logic of both/and embraces rather than solves paradox (Bannet, 1993). The dialectical tensions that seem to give rise to contradictions need to be understood even if they cannot be resolved although a higher level of logic may provide a resolution (Bickhard & Campbell, 1996). The core of this paradox may best be understood in the discourse about orality and literacy. While everything is seen as "one," the issue of interests is recognized by First Nations in historical and contemporary contexts. Pre-contact First Nations traditions suggest that much social effort was focused on balancing interests within and between groups. Marriages often sealed agreements between groups to assure access to resources, technologies, and labor. The Ahousaht story of the war in which the Ootshousahts were virtually exterminated and their few survivors scattered, finds its rationale in the reneging of access to dog salmon that was part of a marital agreement. Such agreements were to provide legitimate access to potential sources of food resources over as much of the Nuuchah-mdth and adjacent territories as possible. The history of such agreements in the First Nations community required skilled negotiations, rigorous means of recourse should the agreements fail, and continuities through inheritance of such roles SQ that the oral tradition of the community may be provided with a back-up system of lineage remembrance. The cost of the failure of such agreements was war. Particularly those wars that came after contact included the devastating use of firepower. Such wars were costly in lives and socio-political networks (personal communication, Archie Frank, Stanley Sam). The Atleo lineage was assigned the role of mediator as part of their hahoothee, or rights and obligations of social participation. Consequently, my remembrance comes from lineage teachings that have often been confirmed by speakers and Elders both privately and at public events, but not necessarily remembered by the community as part of everyday knowledge. Recently, though, this information is 103  surfacing as part of the research associated with treaty negotiations (Craig, 1998; Smith, 1997). In the colonial period, negotiations of social relationships including marital relationships between First Nations and non-First Nations were constituted quite differently, reflecting differences in social organization and culture of the waves of settlers that came to North American (Van Kirk, 1980; Harmon, 1996). First Nations people negotiating from an oral tradition often exchanged women, sisters and daughters, the highest form of social and cultural capital, with early traders and trappers so that many tender ties (Van Kirk, 1980) of intimate relationships paved the way for trust and certainty in more formal relationships. From a First Nations perspective, making treaties, or formal agreements between nations, had a long history based on assumptions of reciprocity between Nuu-chah-mdth that possibly reached back over four millennia, as long as the territory had been occupied. Such reciprocities were permitted, vertically integrated means of establishing reciprocal relationships between groups over time and historical periods. As relationships became more formalized during the nation-building period non-First Nations colonialists negotiated from a literate tradition exchanging promises from afar written on paper. The differences between these traditions may provide evidence for one reason that the interests of First Nations were severely neglected and why First Nations appealed to higher authorities such as the English Monarch and in this century, the United Nations, when they felt the terms of the treaties were not being met. The memories and interests of First Nations preceded those of the provinces and Canada as a nation. Consequently, First Nations leaders such as George Manuel, the Nisg'aa, and Squamish chiefs knew they had to raise their issues abroad (McFarlane, 1993; Drucker, 1958) as the "many tender ties" and shared grandchildren  104  were no longer a basis for certainty with the encroachment of the provincial and federal legislation where there were no treaties. The theory of knowledge constitutive interests (Habermas, 1971) may be used to explore the elements of this narrative complex from a critical perspective to foreground that which is usually backgrounded. Although individuals may embody "narratives", narrative complexes are to be understood as the legacy of a group rather than individuals, hence they require group-based mythic and cultural sensibilities to plumb their depths and develop understanding with which to handle the interpretations of the story. The structure of social norms, affect, manners, and power relations, all that is a part of the ethos of a culture, usually provides the backdrop of any action because the cultural workers know how to orchestrate their actions in that context. A lack of such a framework in cross cultural textualization can be difficult, although it can be, in part, technically remedied by the provision of a framework of protocols that sensitizes the person from outside the culture to the issues that are important to the cultural insider. Consequently, there is a need for a framework that handles the transformation of oral tradition into text form and maintains the cultural consistency because the translation is, after all, social. The social web of culture is required to remain fixed in the translated version to convey the whole core, its parts, and its dynamic (Finnegan, 1992). The characters of the narrative all have roles to play in which they enact their own stories and in their interaction also enact a community and an inter-community story. Thus, the web of social relations must be maintained in the translation because translation must be a transfer of situations from one culture to another rather than merely words (Finnegan, 1992:194). Self conscious translation needs to take place that is not only true in word but  105  in deed, in situation, in social context, in lineage values, in group order. The cultural curtain against which the story is set must be explained so that it can background the action of the narrative and bring out the meanings to be interpreted. Hisuk-ish-tsa'walk - Keeping the Oral Legacies Alive in the Text The wellspring of a First Nations perspective lies in the oral traditions that developed in the territory of the people. Oral traditions underpinning the textuality of literate cultures are usually taken for granted because they lie at deeper levels of assumptions (Ong, 1982). These assumptions may be so deeply embedded that they become accessible only through psychoanalysis or literary criticism (Ong, 1982). Oral traditions underpinning English, historically taught as part of a liberal education, are increasingly obscured by an education system that focuses on technologies of economic survival (e.g., skills, training, and development strategies and field work). Ironically, the evolutionary survival skills may lie embedded in the stories a purely technological education tends to obscure. Another way in which assumptions of orality may come into common discourse is in authentic cross-cultural interactions. Assumptions hailing from oral traditions can pop to the surface in the dissonance of cross-cultural interactions taking place under conditions of authenticity and equality. This is of special concern, since increasingly, Nuu-chah-nulth and many other First Nations people receive teachings from their own oral traditions through the auspices of the formal education system, mediated by nonFirst Nations teachers. For example, Archibald's (1997) project was designed for use in public and band schools as a curriculum to mediate justice principles for First Nations children. The assumptions of First Nations based in a still vibrant oral tradition have  106  began to emerge out of the social movements that are demanding more equities in decolonizing societies such as Canada and the United States. Bridging Orality and Textuality: A Framework of 4Rs and Ds To bring equities to a common discourse between First Nations and European narrative traditions requires a leveling of the ground through protocols that provide a framework in which culturally organized inequities can be managed to understand the similarities and differences from a comparative perspective. Protocols that deal with the multiple dimensions of political, social, ethical, technical, economic and moral issues of textualization can be crafted (Finnegan, 1992) in the research process to provide safeguards for the living legacies of orality. Understanding orality requires a framework of protocols that allows a textually sensitized perception to apprehend the communication. Archibald (1997), Lightning (1992), and Akan (1992) provide rich description of different levels of protocols with which to understand the cultural work of activities that create and re-create the cultural matrix through stories while leaving the story intact. These coincide with my own experience with lineage Elders and Elders in public teaching situations. Ethnographers Boas (1897), Curtis (1916), and Sapir and Swadesh (1939) provide a stark contrast to the cultural work mode of research inherent in First Nations protocols and exemplified by the 4Rs and 4Ds. As researchers from outside the First Nations cultures they were investigating, their studies would have been based on scientific principles and their own resourcefulness in a newly emergent field of anthropology and linguistics. These ethnographers were interested in capturing cultural universals without explicit critical reflection of their own cultural biases.  107  There is an interesting thread of alienation in the stories of the origins of these three major ethnographers of the Nuu-chah-mdth. The ethnographic record I am using about Nuu-chah-mdth stories begins with Boas (1897), a German Jew, alienated in the German academy and military, who found a future in the United States with the help of his American born, German speaking Jewish wife (Cole, 1999). Sapir, Boas' student, was also a German Jew who as a child left Germany with his parents for the promise of a new life in the United States (Mandelbaum, 1985). Sapir's student, Swadesh, was a disenchanted American working class Jew, a socialist, who was black listed in the McCarthy era. He continued advocacy and adult education in Mexico and China. They were all gifted linguists and exceptional and prolific scholars. The thread of alienation lies in the fact that they were Jews in nation states that were winnowing populations with ideals not seen to fit with the objectives of the nation state (i.e., Judaism, socialism). The thread of origins lies in the fact that as Jews they came from a rich oral tradition based on a textuality and alphabet founded in the "flesh of [the] language", the "sensuous reverberations and resonance[s]" that pattern a body, a culture (Abram, 1997:73) and a Talmudic logic that is based on thefirsthand knowledge of the Torah rather than the instructional logic of catechisms. Because the distance between an oral and a textual ethos can be great, I look to the work of Archibald (1997), Lightning (1992), Akan (1992), Finnegan (1992) as well as my own experience to understand the need for protocols that helps to bridge this distance. Finnegan (1992) contributes an expose of the phases of textual processing from oral traditions, cautioning us to understand our own "aims and attitudes" (p.215) and responsibilities to participants. It is in that spirit that I turn to Archibald (1997) who explored this process in her project working with Salishan elders.  108  To construct an analytic framework for looking at the Umeek Narratives, I used the 4 Rs and 4 Ds of storywork. The 4 Rs; Reverence, Respect, Responsibility, and Relations provided the structure for the development of protocols. The 4 Ds; provided the dynamics - wholism, inter-relatedness, reciprocity and synergy. Together they provide the means to both observe the background and foreground when examining the narratives by shifting between them to observe both the structures and the processes. These principles are operationalized in a perspective of Hishuk-ish-ts 'awalk - Everything is One through a process of metaphorical mapping and phenomenological orienteering. The 4 Rs and 4 Ds would suggest that there are social system structures and dynamics that may be generalizable as principles but which become articulated particularly in the process of research at more concrete levels of analysis. Since the utility of these principles for the creation of storywork had been established by Archibald (1997), I expected that these same principles would have utility for the analysis of story work, i.e., Umeek narratives. Together, the structural and dynamic principles based on Archibald's (1997) original seven principles create a living methodology in which storywork can be analyzed and re-created. This perspective of wholism recognizes the part-whole thinking that epitomizes dialectical thought which manages the foregrounding and backgrounding activity central to cultural meaning making. A perspective of inter-relatedness prompts the question, how rather than whether something is related. These principles of cultural work suggest an ideal of cognitive development that may best be described as post formal or dialectical operations in which the play of tropes becomes an important skill in cultural production since cultural understanding underlies metaphorical logic. Strauss and Quinn (1997) acknowledge that "culture" is a concept  109  that we cannot seem to live with or without in academic analysis. As researchers they engage with the concept and operationalize it by seeking to go beyond to "look at cultural meanings: what they are, where they come from, and why sometimes they are motivating, sometimes not; sometimes enduring (in persons and across generations), sometimes not; sometimes shared, sometimes not; and sometimes thematically unifying, sometimes not" (P- 4). First Nations people for the most part still function in the logic of their oral traditions. Educational failure and low literacy rates in the First Nations community may be seen as a testament to the strength of oral traditions. It also may be seen as related to a lack of cues in the textuality that may be used in the oral mode. Sarris (1993) emphasizes the difference between the oral and textual versions of the stories, the anonymous, unanchored, "flat" storyteller of text that does not convey the cultural understanding of the story and its transference into the authoritative context of the classroom where it goes from being proscriptive to being prescriptive. Traditional stories are not meant to become objects but remain tools to understand lives lived in culture. Compared to Euro Canadians who have a long history of literacy, First Nations people can be seen to be very close to the roots of their orality. While First Nations people of the Americas had glyphs (e.g., Mayan and Incan, hieroglyphics) and imagery (e.g., petroglyphs, lineage curtains, totem poles, house posts, Inuksuit, sand paintings, weaving and pottery designs, songs, dances, etc.) that were systematized into sign and symbol systems, but imported textuality is another issue. To some extent, First Nations people have also become literate in English, French or other language traditions. The voices of First Nations authors who write in Canada, such as Jeanette Armstrong (1993), Maria Campbell (1982), Thomas King (1993), Lee Maracle (1992), Shirley Sterling  110  (1992), Drew Taylor (1998), and Thomson Highway (1998) are becoming part of the mainstream Canadian literature as literacy among First Nations people becomes more widespread. Notable in the works of First Nations authors is the strong foregrounding of traditional stories as orientational devices in which the play of tropes is often attributed to the machinations of one of the many tricksters in the pantheon of First Nations archetypes, such as Coyote in Archibald (1997) and King (1993), Raven in Maracle (1992) and Robinson (2000). Thus is the ethnographic record of the Umeek Narratives situated on the twin cusps of orality and textuality and cultures at the place where the Trickster sometimes gets stuck in the play of tropes. Records of the Umeek Narratives Umeek narratives originate from a body of work initiated by Franz Boas (1897, 1909, 1921) and delivered by George Hunt, his h&\f-Tlingit informant who was married to a Kwakiutl woman. The narratives are situated in Boas' preference for Kwakiutl culture that he sees as a standard against which to compare the cultural products of other Wakashan speakers (Nootkan, Heilsuk). His opinion was largely based on the elaboration of their material culture and his informant's familiarity with the nuances of one over the others (Cole, 1999). Boas (1897, 1909) liberally uses the accounts by Cook, Meares, Jewitt and other explorers as second-hand data sources for the Nootka (Nuu-chah-nulth) while in comparison his Kwakiutl data from George Hunt were based in participatory observer status and his own first hand experience. Consequently, Boas' Nuu-chah-mdth data cannot therefore be assessed for comparable accuracy, detail or faithfulness as the Kwakiutl data because of the inherently different conditions of the data collection. Boas' field notes about his relationship with George Hunt reveal his reluctant dependency upon Hunt (Bracken, 1997). Hunt was indispensable to Boas for all aspects 111  of information and artifact gathering. George Hunt lived in Kwakwaka 'wakw territory and participated culturally in their potlatch system. Kwakwaka 'wakw are related to the Mowachaht (Nuu-chah-mdth) who also participated together in the potlatch system. As a potlatch society member, Hunt could negotiate the cultural barriers or not as he saw fit. For example, Marshall (1993) notes that Hunt was anxious to acquire whaling stories related to the whaling shrine that he had bought for Boas eighteen years before even though, by then, Boas had moved on in his academic career. Hunt gathered whaling stories from a part-Kyuquot, part-Mowachaht woman living in Fort Rupert where Hunt was living at the time (Marshall, 1993). There was no information about who this woman was or her relationship to the stories. While Hunt gathered artifacts and stories about whaling, Boas was busy finding skulls of First Nations people in grave sites to take as empirical evidence for his ongoing project to chart the biometrics of human kind. As a secular Jew, taken with evolutionary theory and socialism (Cole, 1999), Boas' research biases in the process of research on West Coast First Nations have been largely unexamined (Maud, 2000). Certainly there is little evidence of protocol by Boas or Hunt that could constitute informed consent of the Nuu-chah-mdth except for the records of payment that Boas made to Hunt for various purchases and shipments (Jonaitis, 1999). Even that would not constitute informed consent when the colonial pressures of the time were taken into consideration (Atleo, E. R., 1991) . The circumstances under which the 43  Yuquot Whalers Shrine was obtained also leads to some recognition of the absence of protocols of acquisition of the day (Jonaitis, 1999), particularly since repatriation issues are being re-visited today by Nuu-chah-nulth.  E.R. Atleo (1991) suggests that the prevailing conditions of society at the time of the purchase of artifacts (including stories) was one in which First Nations peoples were considered to be primitive and savage, vanishing, on the lowest rung of "the evolutionary ladder with no laws to protect property of any kind much less cultural property.  4 3  112  Nuu-chah-mdth whaling is explained at length by Curtis who says that it is unique, it "does not belong to the Kwakiutl" (1916, p. 16). Curtis explains that the whaling activity is so remarkable that the Indian can only explain it as a product of supernatural assistance. Before introducing the story of Umeek, Curtis contextualizes the narrative. He describes some psycho-social components of the training, special cues for success, the equipment, the organization of the crew, the conditions of the actual hunt, patterns of whale behavior to which orientation is critical to the safety of the crew and success of the hunt, and an example of a song that facilitates the work. Jn Curtis' version, the origin of the Wolf Ritual follows the story of Umeek, while in my synthesis I situate it at the beginning since it would be a cultural model a Nuu-chah-mdth adult, particularly chiefs would possess. This probably is an indicator that Curtis purloined the story because, while he had a sense of drama, he seemed not to understand the social context in which the story was situated. It appears that Curtis took his information from Boas' existing textual sources to meet his own needs, as backdrop for the pictures he "staged" of the whaling and whaling ritualists (Frank, 2000) and as a script for scenes from his movie, In the Wake of the War Canoe. Marshall (1993) states that Curtis "did not record the names of the people or groups who owned the traditions in 1923 or any details of the circumstances in which he came to acquire them" (p. 180). Since we are aware of Curtis' penchant for drama, his descriptions of the psychosocial components of training needed to be verified by lineage elders. To be true to the progression of Nuu-chah-mdth life career it becomes important to contextualize the stories of Umeek by first presenting the Tloo-quaa 'na or Wolf Ritual because this rite marked the initiation of Nuu-chah-mdth individuals into social adulthood. Consequently, the progression of the narrative components here follows the normative cultural life career starting with the rite that initiates youth into the status of an 113  adult and then progresses through subsequent aspects of such adult status through ritual observances and ceremonies such as those exemplified in the Umeek story. My experience with the complex of stories differs from those in the ethnographies in that Ifirstheard the stories about my role expectations as a part of my socialization into the family, culture and role from family elders. For example, I was told the story of Ah-up-wah-yeek's (Wren, an incarnation of Umeek) whaling experiences with particular teachings for the wives of whalers. Then I took a course in anthropology and read Sapir and Swadesh's Nootkan Text account of Umeek. Finally, I participated in the Tlooquaa 'na of my son. My experience is in the contemporary era when progression through a Nuu-chah-mdth life career is confounded by non-native institutional dominance in the life careers of Nuu-chah-mdth and my status as a non-Nuu-chah-milth who needed to be socialized into Nuu-chah-nulth culture and roles. While there seem to be many life career trajectories, what follows might be seen as the archetypal life career trajectory. I elected to use the Curtis version of the story because George Hunt had already begun the work of gathering elements for a coherent storyline in the ethnographic tradition; it is part of the public record, predates modern more fragmented knowledge of stories and is inaccessible for the average Nuu-chah-mdth. From the family stories with which I was familiar, this story rang true; but it needed to be tested by Nuu-chah-mdth elders to authenticate and verify the Nuu-chah-mdth ethos of the story. Since stories in oral history do not stand alone, bringing out this version permitted a testing of the possible embedded context of the story. Using this version was a way of potentially repatriating a Nuu-chah-mdth story and understanding some of the issues of working with the Elders was a way of testing the Nuu-chah-mdth ethos of the story.  114  Telling Umeek Stories This section includes the telling of the Umeek story based on the Curtis version. (See Appendix E for discussion of other stories and material based on aspects of Umeek and 'Meek narratives). This story is followed by additional endings and perspectives based in my own oral experience and versions from other ethnographers that bring us closer to what may constitute the oral tradition of Umeek Narratives. Tloo-quaa'na - The Wolf Ritual This part of the story of the Wolf Ritual (Curtis, 1916, p. 94-98) is presented so that the story of Umeek can be grasped in the context of the Nuu-chah-mdth understanding of getting power or the technology of agency of adult status. The story is of a young man who for two years was seeking power, a vision, or a vocation through oosumch (ceremonial washing and purification). Hemlock sprigs were used to wash the human smell away to make the youth more inviting to the spirits. On one occasion, he saw wolves watching him. They seemed to be mimicking him for they also carried hemlock sprigs. Encouraged, he pretended to be dead. But he had not washed with hemlock that day. When the wolves approached, sniffed and began to drag the dead body, they must have been over come by the human smell and dropped him. He learned from that experience and next time he used hemlock and washed harder so that the wolves would take him. Then he could get what he needed from them. The next time the wolves dragged him off to their den through a great cave. Inside the den, they came through a hole into the land of the wolves. Once there, the wolves took off their fur and were like people. They were preparing to cut the youth up to eat him. They commented on his "fine fur" because the wolves saw humans as animals with fiar. As the q ayac'iik was about to cut him, the youth leaped up and seized w  115  the knife. The youth aroused, the wolves became self-conscious and scrambled for their furs for, without their furs, they were powerless in the face of men. The chief of the wolves proposed they exchange their furs for the youth's knife, which they needed. The youth sensed an advantage and held out for the most advantageous bargain possible. For the knife, the wolves exchanged their furs (without which they were powerless) also the power to get seals, sea otters, and whales. They also gave the youth a comb that would create luxurious hair, "water" from the chamber pot (kista i.e., urine) that would raise the dead, and finally a mukwdnhl, a stone club, that shown to any living thing would cause it to fall dead. The story continues with the return of the youth to his village that was mourning his death. The triumphal re-entry of the youth into the village in the Wolf Ritual enactment is still used. When people from other villages heard the story, they came to investigate. There were scoffers among them. The youth used his mukwdnhl, stone club, to slay them all and the water (kista) to bring those that had believed back to life. This quest for (re) visioning, (em) powering, and (trans) forming follows a summary of the story of Umeek as recorded by George Hunt and rendered by Curtis (1916). Tseihsot and Tsatsotatlme: Hair Seal Spearing Chiefs In the village of Yahksis on Vargas Island in Clayoquot Sound, lived the Kelsemahts. The village had two chiefs, the younger was Tsatsotatlme and the elder was Tseihsot. Both men were hair seal spearers. They provided for their people through feasting rivalries. After Tseihsot had given a feast of 100 hair seals, Tsatsotatlme felt discouraged being shown up by the elder leader. In his discouragement, he went to sleep. A stranger came to him in his dream telling him that if he would share why he was sad 116  then the stranger would tell Tsatsotatlme something that would make him happy. Tsatsotatlme told the stranger how he felt, beaten by Tseihsot. The stranger proposed a remedy. Tsatsotatlme would no longer compete for hair seals but with a new, larger source of food for the village, whales. Before leaving the sleeping Tsatsotatlme, the stranger gave instructions for purification so that he could be shown the new way. Tsatsotatlme awoke and immediately followed the instructions of his dream. As he did, he heard the voice of his guide with more detailed instructions. Tsatsotatlme followed the instructions to scourge his body with hemlock until it bled, first the left side and then the right, diving deeply repeatedly until the fourth time when the blood oozed out of his skin and every orifice of his body. It was the Wolf, the q ayac 'iik that gave w  him encouragement and instruction in his discipline and skill development. The Wolf talked Tsatsotatlme through the mock pursuit of the whale. This goodfriend of hunters and harpooners (Curtis, 1916, p.21) helped Tsatsotatlme to visualize every detail of the pursuit and the spearing of the special token which Tsatsotatlme could use, not as a charm but as an heuristic to cue, to evoke his training. Umeek: Creator - Getter-Provider The q ayac'iik (supernatural wolf) gave Tsatsotatlme his new name, Umeek w  (Umik, as per Curtis, 1915), to signify his achievement and new orientation. The new name meant enterprising person, "go-getter", community provider, creator of wealth by discipline, training, and following through (harpooning, fishing, hunting," etc.) (E. R. Atleo, 1997, personal communication) with the assistance of the qwayac'iik (the supernatural wolf). Umeek did not share his experience with anyone, not even his father. He hid his model whale and the equipment under the great cedar tree.  117  When Umeek entered the village in late morning, after his ritual work, people sitting outside noticed him returning. They knew what he was doing and began to taunt him. His rival, Tseihsot, ridiculed him in front of the people. The elder chief, Tseihsot called him friend, yet deriding his ambitions and publicly speculating about their magnitude (i.e., whether Tsatsotatlme desired to become a shaman). Tseihsot was not aware that all he spoke had already happened. His taunting did not sway Tsatsotatlme who was now Umeek, already uu-stuk uu, a medicine man, and a shaman. Umeek went to his father now and told him of his experience with the qwayac'iik. He asked his father to help him organize a hunt in three days. His father was overjoyed and was eager to organize the whaling expedition. His father was to instruct the sevenman crew in the secret rituals. The bottom of a large new canoe was charred and smoothed to be as swift as possible. On the third day, Umeek and the crew set out in the canoe. The crew was prepared but they did not yet know the details of the hunt. They stopped near where Umeek had secreted the model whale and the equipment. The men watched as he organized the equipment. All ready, Umeek announced his intentions to the anticipating crew. Immediately a whale approached them, sounded and disappeared. The whale drew near. Umeek told the paddlers to wait until he had placed his harpoon before they paddled. Umeek watched the whale until just the right moment to place the harpoon. Prayer to a Whale The whale dove, and Umeek fed out the line praying: Whale, I have given you what you are wishing to get— my good harpoon. And now you have it. Please hold it with your strong hands, and do not let go. Whale, turn toward thefinebeach of Yahksis, and you will be proud to see the young men come down on thefinesandy beach of my village at Yahksis to see you; and the young men will say to one another: 'What a great whale he is! What a fat whale he is! What a strong whale he is!' And you whale, will be proud of all that you will hear them say ofyour greatness. Whale do not run outward, but hug the 118  shore, and tow me to the beach of my village at Yahksis, for when you come ashore there, young men will cover your great body with bluebill duckfeathers and with the down of the great eagle, the chief of all birds; for this is what you are wishing, and this is what you are trying to findfrom one end of the world to the other, every day you are traveling and spouting. (Curtis, 1916:23).  The great whale turned toward Yahksis. The people of the village came out to help tow the whale ashore. Meanwhile, Umeek and his crew went to secret the equipment. The Whaler shared with his crew his intention to harpoon a whale every four days and called upon them to participate in his disciplines so that they would be successful. The first whale was landed on the beach with exceeding great ritual honor as promised. Umeek and his crew landed to a great meal of meat and blubber. He asked his father to call the people to his feast at which he would announce his new name, Umeek, for all to know him by. His father did as he was bid. The people came and feasted. It was Tseihsot who now felt beaten. He did not participate, instead was thinking about how to reverse his fortune. The Death of Umeek On the fourth day, Umeek repeated the feat. A great whale was-landed and the people feasted. Umeek was the established provider of the community. Confident in his ability, Umeek shared with his father how he came to be thus. The next time he went out, he got the whale to land on the very beach of Yahksis. This was entirely too much for Tseihsot who met him on the beach. "My friend, Umeek, you are doing a great thing, and you must be a proud man for beating me, and so I will kill you!" (Curtis, 1916: 24) Tseihsot bludgeoned Umeek with a whale club, killing him on the beach beside the whale. Umeek's father quickly cut open his son's chest and pushed the little model whale into the lungs of the dead man. Umeek's father and the crew went to hide the corpse and 119  the equipment under the great cedar tree where Umeek had previously kept them. Returning to the village, Umeek's father invited the villagers to come and feast. The whaling canoe became firewood to cook the great whale. Umeek's father expressed pride in his son's accomplishments and no shame in his death because he had died a proud death providing for his people, having beaten the man who challenged him. Tseihsot was once again the main provider of hair seal for the people. In the Tradition of Umeek - Oyephl Twelve years later, Umeek's son became of age and the grandfather began to teach him all that Umeek had told him. As the young man began to assume his father's role, he also heard the q ayac'iik (supernatural wolf) speak. The q ayac'iik reassured him, telling w  w  him that he would teach him the way he had taught his father. The qwayac'iik gave him a new name, Oyephl, one who follows in the traditions (of his father) (B. Williams, Jr., 1997, personal communication) of giving feasts (Arlene Paul, 2000, personal communication). The q ayac'iik instructed the boy to bring the preserved body of his w  father and place it on a stake on the beach. After the first round of ritual the boy was to go to the corpse and pray, it bestowed the whaling power on him. For the next round of ritual, the qwayac'iik (supernatural wolf) instructed him to tie the corpse on his back as he dove and to mimic the whale in the bathing ritual. Even as questions arose in the boy's mind as to how some part of the hunt should be carried out, the qwayac'iik was there with the answer. The boy did as he was instructed. On the fifth morning, Oyephl and his crew went out on a whale hunt and he killed a whale, as had his father. The people came to tow it ashore. The crew carried the canoe ashore with the young whaler sitting high. They wanted the young man to be their head because he had provided for them whereas the head chief had not. Oyephl invited all the people to feast on the whale.  120  The Wrath of the Head Chief Tseihsot The head chief was unhappy with this turn of events. He was displeased that the people would follow a young man just because he could provide more food. When the men of the village heard his sentiments they were angry at the head chiefs condemnation of them and decided to shun him. The men of the village determined to have the young whaler as their chief. The young Oyephl feted the village with great ceremony, as had his father. Now the head chief determined that there was something to this whaling and determined also to kill the son of Umeek. First, he needed to find an opportunity. He sent a spy to watch Oyephl in ritual activity. The spy noted all and reported everything he saw faithfully to Tseihsot, to the last detail. The young whaler was easy to spy on because he took no precautions. The spy was able to see everything even down to where Oyephl secreted the corpse of his father and the equipment at the base of the great cedar tree. Having visually gathered all the whaling secrets, the spy went to the village of Yahksis and lay down to sleep in the old chiefs house. Now Oyephl had landed yet another whale and he called the people to feast. The greatly agitated Tseihsot decided that since he was plotting against Oyephl it would be best to participate in the feast feigning good will to throw suspicion off himself. Tseihsot brought some food to his house where he and his spy consulted. The spy wanted to know what Tseihsot intended to do now that he knew all the secrets of whaling that had been gathered with his help. Tseihsot intended to kill Oyephl that evening at the lake. Tseihsot and his spy feigned sickness from over eating as part of the plan. They went out of the house, ostensibly to relieve themselves of the excess food but actually to relieve themselves of Oyephl. 121  Tseihsot Slays Oyephl When they got to the lake Tseihsot sent the spy back. He sat hidden, waiting near the staked corpse. The young whaler came with his sprigs of hemlock and began to bathe. As Oyephl dove after washing with the first bunch of hemlock, Tseihsot ran into the water and clubbed him to death as he came up. Tseihsot dragged Oyephl out of the water, hid him in a dry place, and hid the body of Umeek who had been staked out on the beach. Tseihsot came home, told his spy what he had done and instructed the spy to hide the harpoon and equipment in another place to secure them. The spy did as he was told and returned to the house of Tseihsot to sleep. Tseihsot had that night dreamed of Oyephl who had given him more instructions about how he should pray for success: prayers to the moon chief, the south chief, the sea chief and the mountain chief ten times during oosumch, the washing ritual. The old chief went to the lake and it seemed that the young whaler was oosumch with him for his prayers and instructions echoed in Tseihsot's ears. Tseihsot dreamed that Oyephl instructed him in the major aspects of the whale hunt. Tseihsot acted on his dream. Tseihsot "Transforms" into Tsahwasip the Whale Harpooner Tseihsot and the crew went out and harpooned the first whale. However, the whale went down and the Tseihsot had no solution. Crewmembers told him to pray to the whale as had Umeek but Tseihsot's whaling knowledge was incomplete. One of the crew knew the prayer from previous trips and Tseihsot ordered him to pray that the whale be more co-operative. The whale turned toward the beach of Yahksis. The old chief landed with great ceremony, carrying the harpoon and line into the house to be put on display. He called for a feast to announce his new name "Tsahwasip" harpooner that catches it  122  with one try. He promised his people a whale feast regularly as had Umeek and his son Oyephl. Tsdhwasip began to wash regularly in the lake. One evening the spy joined him. The spy, lying to Tsdhwasip, explained that Umeek had come to him in a dream to warn that bad fortune would come to them if they did not continue to wash. He convinced the old chief because the spy wanted to know where the body of Umeek was hidden. He watched the old chief dive. The old man did not use the body of Umeek as Oyephl had used the body of his father. The spy asked the old man why not. The old man replied that Oyephl had not told him about that. (Recall that Tseihsot had killed Oyephl prematurely, after only the first of four bundles of hemlock were used, a quarter of the way through the whole ritual.) Tsdhwasip retrieved the corpse and proceeded as instructed by the spy. The old chief labored under the load of the corpse, staying down with difficulty. Tsdhwasip complained of the degree of difficulty and asked the spy if he was doing it right. The spy laughed saying it was the whale spirit Tsdhwasip was trying to please not him. Not wanting trouble in the hunt, Tsdhwasip became frightened and begged the spy to tell him more particularly, how Oyeph\ had done the ritual. Tseitlas, the feast guest, complied. Tsdhwasip dove until the blood flowed from his ears, eyes, and nose. Tsdhwasip broke the surface of the lake in triumph because the whaler on his back had taken him to the land of the spirits of the dead and revealed to him more whaling secrets: towing songs to bring the whale home to Yahksis and how to make floats to keep dead whales from sinking. Tseitlas must have been amazed because he had been lying to Tsdhwasip. However, Tseitlas reasoned that he had found out the location of the corpse and that he could play this game a little longer, so he joined Tsdhwasip in the water.  123  Tsahwasip wondered aloud why the spy was not washing as diligently as he. The spy toyed with the old chief replying that if he was going to harpoon whales he would be working harder but since he had no such ambitions, there was no need to draw blood. Tsahwasip, with Tseitlas by his side, entered the village in triumph telling his people everything that had happened to him. He instructed hair-seal speakers to kill fourteen seals and make floats from the skins. He gathered his crew and took them into the woods where the villagers could not hear them to learn the new towing songs and the songs to the Four Great Chiefs. He taught them four of the ninety-six songs that he had received and instructed them that they would be leaving the next morning to catch whales. Instead of sleeping, he went out to wash all night finishing only when the canoe came for him. Tsahwasip is Foiled by his Spy Tseitlas In the dark of the next morning, they were underway. As morning began to break, the crew heard a whale spout beside them. Tsahwasipfixedhis harpoon and then noticed that Tseitlas was not among the crew. Crewmen reported that Tseitlas had failed to join them when called. Tsahwasip became ambivalent. He wanted to turn back to get him. The crew insisted that the time was now to harpoon the whale or they would not come out with him again. He sank the harpoon into the whale and the whale ran seaward. Tsahwasip instructed the crew to pray to the Four Great Chiefs and then the four prayers to the whale, but to no avail. The wise old man of the crew suggested that praying to the whale made more sense. Nothing helped. Tsahwasip blamed the trouble on Tseitlas. Nevertheless, the crew blamed him because he had vacillated when he discovered the spy missing and it was he who had given the wrong instructions about which songs to sing. These mistakes could prove to be fatal mistakes for all of them. 124  The whale towed them out to sea for two days. Finally, the whale turned back to shore. Tsdhwasip told the wise old man of the crew to place a second harpoon into the whale. The crewman did and then placed a third, which killed the whale not far from the village. Now they sang the towing songs and brought the whale home. Reaching shore, Tsdhwasip leaped onto the beach with his equipment and went directly home. He instructed his wife to butcher his ceremonial portion, the dorsal fin and saddle of the whale and bring it home. He also inquired of her the whereabouts of the spy. She reported that Tseitlas had disappeared the day of the whale hunt. Tsdhwasip Dies of a Broken Spirit/Heart and Loss of Face Tsdhwasip was desolate. He knew Tseitlas had been the source of his problems with the whale. He went to sleep and dreamed that the spy was washing in a lake with the corpse to become a whaler. He regretted not killing the spy once he had been told everything. He told his wife of his tactical error and she wept. He covered himself with sea-otter pelts and died. Some say he died of a broken heart because a feast guest who took advantage of him finally defeated him. The sad demise of Tsdhwasip was a lesson for those who use/used washing ritual to seek power for whaling, hunting or gambling to keep their strivings secret lest others seek to harm and even kill them for their supernatural knowledge. Whaling Endures after the Rivalry Tseitlas, Tsdhwasip's spy fled to Ahous with the corpse of Umeek. From the people of Ahous, it is said, that all the tribes on the West Coast learned how to kill whales by harpooning. The people of Yahksis attempted to whale but encountered fatalities and misfortune because they did not observe the disciplines of the first whaler. Therefore, the people gave up whaling. 125  Other Umeek Endings Stories about Umeek are not discrete but living and available for viewing from many perspectives and incarnations. Consequently, that there are other endings should not be surprising. Sapir and Swadesh (1939) who gathered their data in the Alberni Canal provide a different ending: The grandfather of Oyephl, the wise old man of the crew, had been a witness to all. Umeek had told his father everything and the old man had taught Oyephl how to be successful. The wise old man of the crew had lost first his son and then his grandson to the treachery of the old chief. Now that the treacherous braggart Tsahwasip was dead, the wise old man of the crew could teach others to whale in the tradition of Umeek in the village of Yahksis. In his notes, Curtis (1916) maintains that Hunt's informant was a Clayoquot but does not distinguish between Nootkan (Nuu-chah-mdth) informants when he relates the story of Umik-takumhl'id" ' the origin myth of one of the Mowachaht families (septs), 0  which is clearly told from the perspective of a Mowachaht. In this version, the child who was to become Umeek was born of a man in a virgin birth. The child was named "Uppihtsu" because he had a countenance of dazzling brilliance (Curtis, 1916:183) as if originating from the sun. When this child took over the successful whaling career of his father, he changed his name to Umeek. The Umeek of this story was on one hunt in which the whale towed them off shore for four days until the mountains disappeared, until they were in the midst of a great school of whales. While the crew slept, Umeek sat watch. The morning after the second day, a tiny migrating bird perched on the harpoon shaft and sang to the whale "Go to the shore, Whale; go toward the shore, Whale" (Curtis, 1916:183). It was an omen. Umeek 126  roused the men and they began to sing the song of the Wren. First, the whale shuddered and then swam strongly in the direction of Estevan Point and into Nootka Sound landing on the beach at Otsihta. The Mowachaht were so successful that they were the envy of their neighbors. Gendered Participation This final story was actually told to me first. It is concerned with the role of the partner of the whaler. I received this story first hand from Nan Margaret Atleo. She told me of the ritual activities in which she had participated with her husband, the restrictive activities they observed out of respect based in cultural rationale. The story was about the complimentarity of gender role behavior, the expectations and the activities in which the couple engaged materially, culturally, and spiritually. The woman's role is the central feature of the aitstol during which the girl is secluded and her activities restricted in the manner in which she would be if her husband were on a whale hunt. This story, with a role script of partnership, held high levels of salience for me the year I became a status Indian under the Indian Act and an Ahousaht -achsup.  44  The wife of Umeek did ritual with him. For eight waxing moons, she bathed with him and accompanied him in the ritual activity that brought whales. They were together, asynchronous with the social life of the village but in complete synchrony with each other, the environment, the river, the ocean, the wind, the air, the sky, the whales and the other inhabitants of the sea and land. The ritual allowed them to blend with the elements until they were indistinguishable from them. Then when Umeek set out in the canoe with  I heard this story the same summer that I read The Second Sex by Simone De Beauviour (1949, reissued in 1989). It was the 60's and the feminist movement was raging in North America. As the eldest daughter in my family of origin, I was used to the responsibility of younger siblings and expected to minimally be a partner to a husband, but nothing less. Those were the sensibilities with which I first heard whaling stories.  44  127  his paddlers to meet the whale, she hid the vision in her mind and heart and body. She herself hid under the mat in their house and waited silently until his return with the visitor, the guest, the whale. She could then come out to preside over the festivities. She would greet the respected visitor with dance during the chuu-chalth, and help the iiychtuup offer himself up to the people, each according to their ritual share, in exchange for the ritual respect and honor they bestowed on him. She sang of the saga of the bravery of the whale, her husband, and the crew, for they were all in this drama of life together. She was the intimate participant who secreted the vision until it became manifest and then dramatized the achievement through performance for all to witness. While there were constructive partnerships there also seemed to be dysfunctional or unconstructive partnerships based on the report of a Makah whaler's wife to Erna Gunther (1942). This Washington State woman was not Makah herself but her father had sold her to be the wife of a Makah whaler. The woman was unsettled by the whaling activities claiming them to be black magic. As partners, they did not succeed in harpooning a whale and they lost children through miscarriage and in infancy. The woman appears to have had little confidence in the enterprise and revealed to Gunther her lack of belief in the rituals. It is likely her lack of socialization into this unique role left her an unequal and ambivalent partnership contributing to a lack of goal clarity with regard to whaling success. Marshall's (1993) account of the founding traditions of the Mowachaht elaborates on the gendered connection. It is deemed a necessity for the sons of whaling chiefs to marry someone not related but someone that is "knowledgeable about, and respectful of, appropriate chiefly behavior [because] the husband's and wife's combined knowledge and observances of ritual practices enable them to survive contact with supernatural  128  beings and acquire from them supernatural power which they use to capture whales" (p. 181). Marshall (1993) notes that the story of Umeek and also the Yalhna stories, both by Curtis (1916), start with the search for a wife. An appropriate wife who would be willing and able to participate in the rigorous ceremonial practice of whalers upon which the whaler and the people depended for success was seemingly a rare find. In Curtis' (1916) rendition of the Yalhna text he records how the search for the best woman could be an onerous quest because by implication she must live at a distance (not be related), be descended from whaling people (have similar technological capital), and have status (social capital), in short be equal to the suitor. The Nuu-chah-nulth coming of age ceremony for girls, aitstol, displays the attributes of girls that would make them particularly desirable partners for whalers. Marshall (1993) cites one instance in which there was a marriage with a particularly ugly woman, the daughter of an Ahousaht chief. The father searched for a wife for his son in nine villages yet it is in the tenth (haiyu) in which the chief finds a wife who will be "able to sustain her observance of the strict sexual practices required of a whaler's wife" (p. 182). It becomes clear that the role of the wife was complimentary to that of the whaler. The wife who became the mother could thus support her sons or daughters in this creative role. In the story of the Middle Beach massacre (Sapir & Swadesh, 1939), it is the mother who teaches her exiled son to whale after he is reinstated into the chieftainship of his murdered father (Golla, 1988). The role of the wife of the whaler seems to be an important archetype of learning and teaching in the whaling complex. Elements of the Umeek Narratives Using the 4Rs and 4Ds as an investigative framework, the structural and dynamic elements of the Umeek Narratives can be identified. The structural elements include 129  Reverence, which points to the philosophical context, Hisuk-ish-tsa 'walk; in which qu'aas (Nuu-chah-nulth people) are part of the Creation that includes the natural environment, the culturally evolved environment and the positions of the characters to each other. Respect allows us to see the structural order of that creation, "natural" environment that has been culturally constructed over thousands of years as part of a system of responsibilities and webs of which relations are encoded in ha-hoo-thee (hereditary management and administration system). The dynamic elements of the story revolve around the relations between the characters and their environments from the perspective of wholism. The inter-relatedness of all things as an assumption that requires us to ask "how" are these parts related to the whole and the whole to the parts in a cultural logic. What are the patterns of reciprocity that are anticipated or violated? What synergies are cultivated and what synergies are unanticipated? To understand the action we must see all the characters and their relations in their environment over time. The action is grounded in four sites: the village, the beach and the ritual site, and on the ocean, the "highway" of the whale. The eight characters include the Elder chief and his Witness, the Younger chief, the father of the Younger chief, the son of the Younger chief, the crew of the canoe and the wives of the Elder and Younger chief. The various types of learning relationships can be seen in the relationships between the elements of the Umeek Narratives. In the story, the four learning motivators or critical principles (Bickhard, 2000) identified are: 1) perceptual indicators of change 45  (not enough seals, changing social structure); 2) criteria for engagement with change (felt failure, negative or positive challenge to social status, participation with spouse, child,  Bickhard's (2000) concept of critical principles is based on the idea that learning requires an error identification process whereby negative knowledge becomes the skeletal structure on which positive knowledge is built. Error reduction accounts for much of the ritual activity in the Nuu-chah-mdth learning ideology. 4 5  130  grandparent); 3) strategies for engagement with change (posumch (ritual bathing), violence, loss of face, dying, changing strategies, new participants, etc); and 4) group processing of change (following the leader, changing leadership, revolt of crew, loss of face, returning to own village). The resistance to learning is considered in a perception of change, a response to change, and the engagement or disengagement with change at an individual and group level. These are the elements of the narrative to be considered. Clues to the Nuu-chah-nulth cultural orientation to this story are read by using the orientation of the tropes given in the names and the themes identified by the elders. The central characters are: the elder ha?w'il, Tseihsot and the younger ha?w'il, Tsatsotatlme. The name of the elder ha?w'il, Tseihsot, alludes to a house of a great giver/receiver of feasts and gifts, a very successful, established seal hunter who feeds the people well, consistent with the philosophy of being a ha?w'il. The name of the younger ha?w'il, Tsatsotatlme (the "me" ending may be a shortened form of "meek"), alludes to "one who is a 'getter' of resources by the 'skin of his teeth' (because he engages with dangerous or difficult conditions)". He is a reasonably successful hunter even in the face of great odds who, upon seeing the odds becoming greater, is concerned with still feeding his people well, consistent with the philosophy of being a ha?w'il. In these ha?w 'iih we then have the primary social economy of the community. The Elder ha?w'il is more successful than the Younger is ha?w'il who labors in more difficult, marginal circumstances. The primary sealing grounds may more centrally fall within the ha-hoo-thee of the Elder ha?w'il where as the Younger ha?w'il would work the margins in which resource decline would be more noticeable at an earlier stage. These central characters each have a constellation of characters associated with them. The tyee ha?w'il has the resources to attract a feast guest, Tseitlas from a  131  neighboring community. This feast guest and the wife of the tyee ha?w'il are the two main characters in the sphere of Tseihsot/Tsdhwasip. The characters in the constellation of the Younger ha?w'il, Tsatsotatlme/Umeek are the Friendly Stranger, his father, his son, his crew members and his wife. The Friendly Stranger is the q ayatsiik, the wolf, w  and cultural giver of power for transformation that Umeek encounters in his dream. Umeek ultimately confides his knowledge to his father who testifies of Umeek's power, passes it on to Umeek's son, and ultimately to the community. Umeek's son, Oyephl, who succeeds him, receives his primary socialization from his father and mother but his formal training for whaling likely comes from his grandfather. Umeek would have trained Umeek's crew for their task even though they may have done their own oosumch preparation. Umeek's wife is not mentioned, she is the invisible ritual partner. Based on known cultural practices, other stories about whaling from my elders and the ethnographic record (Marshall, 1993; Jonaitis, 1999), it is known that wives were necessary (the role of ha?kum, as with all great spiritual activity, was secret but critically important), active partners in the ritual construction of whaling activities and thus a partner in any learning of and socialization into such roles. It may not have been purely oversight that the work of women as culture keepers was obscured in ethnography but purposely withheld. Summary The rivalry, the savagery, and the treachery are writ large in the text of this story. This style is typical of the mnemonic demands of orality (Ong, 1982). The story is rich in emotionally evocative details organized in a manner that permits recall by the savage mind (Levi Strauss, 1963), the oral mind without reference to text. When there is no  132  textual reference, the story is organized in sensorimotor memory, in body memory . Jousse (in Ong, 1982) identified this phenomenon as verbomoteur to describe the oral and word-oriented lifestyle of ancient Hebrew and Aramaic in which the bodily component is dominant. The graphic expressions used in the story help to bypass the "conscious" mind so that the communication between the body of the listener and the body of the speaker is virtually direct in the fullness of their emotive qualities within a common culture. The stories provide their own keys to unlocking their meaning in the context of such qualities. The metaphor of the discipline of the water and washing in the story is a metaphor for the battle required to wrest the underlying dimensions from the story. For the textual mind, getting beyond the emotionally charged deeds that are committed in the pursuit of power, prestige, and wealth, embedded in knowledge, requires a shift in perspective, a willing suspension of belief. The perspective required is one of an oral person with a collectivist orientation whose reason for living is to humbly provide for his or her people even as that means is organized through social rivalry. The treachery of human beings is a cultural assumption in this story but the work for the good of all must go on despite everything. Understanding this story from the perspective of a ha?w 'il whose very name, identity and survival of his lineage depends on his provisioning for the people may shed some interesting light on some not so obvious issues. The stories have been presented from a variety of perspectives. Curtis's story is probably from aMowachaht perspective. The Sapir and Swadesh story is from a  Memory is facilitated by the textual and ceremonial testimony of culture. Specific ritual acts frame body memory in sacred sites. Such remembrances meet both present needs and cultural identification. While the constructions may be culture specific, "Acts of Memory" (Bal et al, 1998) such as these transcend culture as well as oral/textual boundaries.  4 6  133  Tseshaht perspective. Hunt claimed his story to be from a Clayoquot perspective but possibly, it is from aKyuqout or Mowachaht perspective. The stories I heard personally were from lineage elders that were Ahousaht, Kelsemaht and Owinismit. Umeek narratives clearly include many perspectives within the Nuu-chah-nulth history of the ancestor Umeek. Umeek narratives are alive. They demonstrate that the multiple perspectives within Nuu-chah-nulth history are usual because the descendants of the ancestors inhabit the territory variously. First Nations communities are only beginning to analyze the nature of their engagement with technological innovations that range from organizational development in governance and health care to energy used in ecologically sensitive areas. The gap between Nuu-chah-nulth learning and practice and the models of learning and practice in the dominant cultural milieu seems to be a major obstacle. Since this gap is mediated through the formal education system, there may be a barrier to opportunity for creative expression of Nuu-chah-nulth cultural and personal identity. In the next chapter, based on my interview data, I examine the ways in which the Elders paid attention to the story and identified learning themes. Then using the analytic framework of the 4Rs and 4Ds, I bring together the narratological analysis of the story from this chapter with the themes identified by the elders to reflect on the learning issues in this story. In the final chapter I am going on to examine the results, draw conclusions about the utility and application of these results theory and practice in First Nations education, curriculum development, counseling and career development and strategic learning based on storywork.  134  Chapter V -  Himwic-aqyak ha-ha-sithh-caap:  P a y i n g A t t e n t i o n to t h e S t o r y  How contemporary Nuu-chah-mdth elders pay attention to the stories of previous times and how they apply the meaning making potential of these stories to learning today is explored in this chapter. This chapter introduces the Elders with a short biography and presents the outcomes of the interviews with them (See Appendix F for narrative versions of the interviews) and a summary of the themes associated with learning that they found salient. The chapter includes a narratological analysis based in a framework of 4Rs and 4Ds in which the settings, event structures, action sequences, and dynamic tensions between characters is analyzed based on the learning themes the Elders found salient. The interviews were informed by the Elders' reading of the preceding version of Umeek narratives. The interviews were structured by the following three questions 1) whether they were familiar with these particular stories (i.e., had heard a version of them previously and if not what similar stories had they heard), 2) recognized any traditional ways of learning in these stories, and 3) how they could envision those traditional stories and ways of learning contributing to our understanding oi Nuu-chah-mdth learning for schooling from kindergarten to post secondary as well as in retraining programs for jobs today and in the future. In my interviews, the protocols, 4Rs and 4Ds came alive in a process of "respectful prodding" (Hallendy, 2000) ' that comes with cultural knowledge and insight 47  Hallendy (2000) identifies his method of gaining insight into cultural world as a process of "respectful prodding and patience" (p. 79). He has worked in the Arctic for more than four decades suggesting a dedication to his work and the people. Early on one of the elders gave him the Inuktitut atig, or name, Apirsuqti, the inquisitive one, which signifies to everyone what he is about. 135  as well as the tolerance and good will of the interviewees. Hampton (1995)  also  mentions the interactive method he used with his participants in eliciting themes about Indian Education. The transcriptions of the interviews with the Elders illustrate interactions (See: Appendix F) between them and myself including the pattern of idea units (Fludernik, 1996:62) that take up time (different foci of individual interviewees), the turn taking (length of time interviewee and interviewer took and held the floor), and the setting (formal vs. informal settings, interviewee as guest vs. interviewer as guest). The one-hour time limit I suggested created a restrictive structure for this particular conversation. However, it was clear in the interviews that the conversation was part of an ongoing dialogue that I, as an individual, and we, as a group, had been having. This conversation would be ongoing because of our common group membership and relatedness. In the narrativization of the interviews (See Appendix F), I removed many natural linguistic markers of oral stories to transform them into texts. Such changes were to exclude some, but not all of the asides, commentary and digressions of the dialogue in the textual space. Transcriptions included leaving out some, but not all, repetition that signaled re-entry into plotlines,. asides, commentary, and digressions. Instead, I put them into the structural aspects of the narrative form by commenting on the narrative or in turn having the interviewee comment. I used several narrative styles in an attempt to maintain the distinctiveness of each interview. I did not mark pitch levels, intonation, or volume  Hampton (1995:12-13) discusses his "active listening and co-participation" approach as he encouraged participants to elaborate on the theme of'What is Indian about Indian education?' rather that follow the "embarrassing" protocol of his interview schedule. With the help of an interviewee he found that what he was really after was "reflective thinking" about the issue rather than strategic questioning based on the interview schedule. I embrace his example because it indeed helps to make implicit knowledge held amongst the discussants explicit and accessible.  4 8  136  levels that would provide emphatic or emotional cues that may be used to provide orientations to foreground or background material. In short, I left a lot out of the narrative that could have been made more explicit in moving from an oral into a textual mode. However, I attempted to maintain the oral tone and the voice o f the interviewees in the process. I am clearly not a dispassionate observer but a co-participant with the interviewees in the development of the conversations about learning in these stories. This dialogic technique is probably possible in part because of my longstanding relationship with the interviewees but probably largely based on my ability to position myself in the cultural dynamics of the situation while maintaining a high level of respect for their positions in the interaction. The subsequent interviews demonstrate our combined reflective consensus about the issue of learning in the Umeek narratives and how such learning could work for Nitu-chah-nulth and others both today and in the future. The Consultative Interviews One-hour interview sessions were held each with Nelson Keitlah, Trudy and Edwin Frank, Louie Joseph, and Elsie Robinson. The interviewees were then given as much latitude to answer as fully as possible in the one-hour period. The interviewees chose not to remain anonymous and welcomed the opportunity to share their wisdom and knowledge of Nuu-chah-nulth  cultural practices both for future generations of Nuu-chah-  nulth and the edification of non-Natives. A short biographical sketch of the Elders introduces a summary of each interview. Nelson Keitlah Nelson Keitlah is currently the Central Region Co-chair of the  Nuu-chah-nulth  Tribal Council. Nelson, the foremost Elder of the Keitlah family, is known as 137  Keitlahmakin from the lineage of the warrior, ha-yu-pinu-l. In his generation, Nelson has been the foremost laborer in the tradition of the second chieftainship through his cultural and political activity. Nelson is a highly respected and renowned Nuu-chahnulth orator, song leader, and composer. As many First Nations men, Nelson has been a West Coast fisherman. However, he has been foremost a political force in band and tribal affairs for most of his adult life. Nelson has worked to assure First Nations interests through a lifetime of participation in every level of nation building, as a founder of the Tribal Council, a chief negotiator at the British Columbia Treaty Table, to work in fisheries management, and most recently, in negotiations for the repatriation of ritual objects from the museums and collectors around the world. He had six daughters, Rowena, Agnes, Cynthia, Nadine, Janet, Margaret and one son, Nelson Jr., with his first wife, Ida August. Consequently, he has numerous grandchildren and great grandchildren. He is a Hamatsa initiant through the sponsorship of his current wife, Ruby's family, the 49  Dicks of Kingcome Inlet. Nelson is my uncle by marriage because his grandmother and my husband's great-grandfather Keesta were sister and brother. It has been said that at times his grandmother collaborated with her brother in the whaling ritual.  Hamatsa initiation signals the acceptance of the person into the formal ranked society of the Kwakiutl with all its inherent social obligations and rights. The Hamatsa ceremony (referred to as Cannibal Dance and discussed in Curtis, [1915-1916] 1978 10:221) is similar to Kluuqwana initiation (Wolf Ritual/Dance or Shaman's Dance) in that the ceremony is a graphic reminder that before the Transformers came, everyone was "qu'aas", people. In the Nuu-hah-nulth tradition, the Transformers changed qu'aas into all the life forms that are usual today which means that every day we eat those who were like us before the Transformers. The hamatsa is a dramatic, formal, embodied reminder of how readily a person can forget right relations when living alone in the woods and emphasizes the need for social structure, ritual and relations. Thus when he is brought back into the social circle through the dance ceremony, the hamatsa initiant is expected to bring the ethos of this into his social and political roles and way of life. The hamatsa initiant is expected to be a role model of Kwakiutl civility that is recognized and respected by Nuu-chah-nulth people. (See McDowell (1997) for a more though exposition of Hamatsa from a non-native perspective.) 138  Nelson, Keitlahmakin, had never heard these particular stories, "I have heard some whaling stories, but not, to the full extent on Umeek". Nevertheless, Nelson recognized the stories as being from the Nuu-chah-nulth tradition because they were consistent with his knowledge of his family's historical involvement with whaling, cultural details of the story, family socialization patterns, and parallels he could draw from the whale story he shared. Most notable was his recognition of the learning that was part of the special training of the young chief by his grandfather. His confidence that Nuu-chah-nulth have much to share with their own children in the schools as a part of educational programming and with non-Natives is prominent. Nelson elaborated on how the lack of continuity of language becomes a barrier to learning, "You see what is happening here is that we have lost some of our deeper meaning language. We speak quite differently now than even my dad. There seemed to be another level, which we could compare to grades or university and high school. That's the difference of language." He sees the use of the ethnographic record is problematic because the use of the language has changed since 1913 when the story was gathered. He gave an example of how the Nuu-chah-nulth language works differently from English in that it builds its words so that a word like Yaa-uuck-mis might be used for conveying the painful emotion born or love or of hate. This logically suggests how Tseitlas can be construed to be both a witness and a spy based on his motivational orientation. Nelson observes that the lack of formal institutional use has eroded the Nuu-chah-mdth stock of more sophisticated orators, so that words are understood in their everyday context but not in the more formal or mythical contexts (e.g., the meaning of the stone and chamber pot contents in everyday life vs. their special powers in the mythic context of the story). The lack of formal institutional activities such as specific types of gatherings (e.g., coming of age ceremonies, Kluuquanna, local feasting, name giving, first haircut, brushing away the 139  badness, etc.) reduces the opportunity for language that is more sophisticated and identity development that would have existed before 1900. Nelson compares the written Nuu-chah-nulth stories with artifacts that were stolen and are now stored in museums. While the non-natives may possess the stories as anthropological notes and ethnographies in the written record, Nelson maintains that only Nuu-chah-nulth can plumb their meaning and interpret their intellectual value in the context of culture and history. Recognizing traditional ways of learning, Nelson is encouraged by young people that have gone away to train academically and then return to contribute to the community. "[Fragmented as it may be, but still, you know, there is an opportunity there to rebuild there in the cultural aspects, the language aspects, and just to [have] younger Ahousahts know the kind of history we have come from, so the importance of different objectives." It fits with his view of Nuu-chah-nulth learning as illustrated by the Oyephl character in the story. In the archetype of the Oyephl character early socialization and instruction in family living provides the foundation for later grand achievements. "...[T] he very early stages of bringing up a person such as the son of Umeek in this story where he had gotten early kind of training and instructions, indicates our way and our traditions of how a young man such as he would be treated very differently because he was of chieftain rank." He noted how such socialization and instruction would vary by rank, family, and lineage and would be guided by grandparents. Such activity would take place in everyday life and in formal settings of ritual and sacred sites. Cleansing in fresh and saltwater with different procedures and botanicals (i.e. boughs, ferns, etc) was a central feature of preparation for and rehearsal of achievement and varied by family. Reverence for the Creator and creation translated into respect for all things. This attitude that the petitioner was expected to cultivate as he/she humbly  140  asked for what was requested to aid in the fulfillment of his/her responsibility in relationships of reciprocity. Such cultural safeguards allowed the cultivation of relationships even with whales, which would be a more appropriate interpretation of the nature of the communication that is called Prayer to a Whale in the story. "The total misconception of how our people had lived dealing with grief, joy, just the goodness of sharing, this is very important in our history, where people had great respect for Iyh-tuup (whales)." Nelson is most formal and traditional when he offers up a story, "...dealing with our family, Keitlah, the family that I come from... was a song that we now sing in our great potlatches when Keitlah wants to participate and also give whatever he has in mind." The story is about the young ha?w'iih set adrift on a whale by his most intimate friend, his triumphant return and victory over the unfavorable circumstances. Nelson seems to have given this story in counterpoint to the Umeek story. It highlights the potential treachery of intimates, a lesson that seemed to cost Umeek and his son their lives. The story illustrates an alliance with the whale whereby it insulates the young ha?w'il from sure death from hypothermia and provides him with a vehicle in which to drift towards safety. Even in death, the spirit of the whale participated in helping him. This testimony of the endurance of this teaching is encoded in a lineage song that is still sung today by extended family (the Greens, Makah, from Neah Bay). Nelson's family story is writ on the whole expanse of Nmi-chah-tiulth territory from the far north where the young man drifted ashore to the far south where the song is still sung. The young man returns home in triumph, bringing his rescuers to his home village so he can fete them to repay them for their assistance. Upon his return, his father cautions him to oosumch (purify himself through bathing) so that he would be more aware rather than trusting so that this would not happen again. Moreover, in the end, his adversary even 141  volunteered to seal his own fate so that the young chief did not even have to extract revenge. Nelson characterized the story of Umeek as challenging rather than frightening. He could envision such stories making a difference for Nuu-chah-mdth and non-natives alike because of the way they capture the imagination with the great exploits of which they testify. Whaling is an epic theme for Nuu-chah-nulth and Europeans. For Nuuchah-nulth, whaling represents the ability of men to cultivate a relationship with the largest animal on earth that will allow itself to be taken with spears of only mussel shells and pitch. The measure of such men must be great. Nelson notes that the story of Umeek is uncommon, not a narrative with a romantic or happy ending that is popular, nevertheless he resonates with the story. It ".. .rang some bells, of my grandpa and my grandma who was a sister of Keesta married to chief Keitlah... and the stories that she had told of evenings... when these stories were very much alive in a young man's imagination." The story challenges him by evoking the need to make changes, to rebuild the nation, which involves the deep soul of the people. A challenge because we are now in a time when culture, practices and the tender care of grandparents seem absent compared to before. Nelson observes that since it took generations to erode culture it will take generations to rebuild. He sees the potential for cultural revival in the young people and the times which are so different.from a recent past in which the ha?w'U were debased and the people were disrespectful. A recent past where the people were demoralized because of colonial oppression. A people demoralized because the wealth of the chiefs is based on respect, wee-tsee-utskee and there was little respect. However, that has changed and names like Keitlah, Maquinna,  142  and Atleo are being raised up again as they are able to work for the good of the people in the cultural expectations maintain. Nelson suggests that surely these changes herald a time for mutual recognition between the qu'aas and the dominant society through better understanding of each other. "You can't underestimate the power of what we are trying to illustrate for public knowledge and for public schools which in itself is in a period of change. Never have we experienced the direct vision we now have by maamulthnee, that culture, that qu'aas, do have something, the larger society is saying." "The substance of what we see and what is important surely is not the hero that we want so much to have in our thoughts but that is not the way things happened. The eventual changing and maybe when you connect this up with the stories from the Good Book where the Creator will do this and will choose what it is he may use in what he has to do in correcting fits in the framework of belief inuuh- ha?w'il-mistuk which means that the ha?w 'iih go through the communication and connection with our Creator [that] was always very strong [and dependable]." Nelson's reflections show that stories such as Umeek can become "tools of understanding". Gertrude (Atleo) and Edwin Frank Gertrude Trudy (Atleo) and Edwin Lynn Frank were interviewed together. Trudy is the youngest daughter of George Shamrock Atleo and Margaret Grace Charlie. Trudy is my aunt by marriage because she is the youngest sister of my husband's father. Trudy is like an older sister to my husband because he spent his early years in his grandparent's household with his aunts and uncle. Edwin used to joke with me that you and me are the same. He was making that point that he was like me, because he married into the Atleo lineage, i.e., became an Atleo. Atleo is an equal opportunity lineage in which women have the cultural rights (tuu-paati) to ask for and provide dowry for the husband of their 143  choice. Trudy and Edwin are significant Atleo lineage elders. They were the final caretakers of Keesta Atleo, the last Ahousaht whaler. Trudy and Edwin have nine grown children, many grand and great grand children. At the time of the interview, Trudy had just retired from a lifetime of working as the Ahousaht Community Health Representative (CHR).  50  Edwin is the son of Jemima  Sam and David Frank. Edwin had been a fisherman. With Trudy, he has been the owner and operator of the Ahousaht Freight Services since the early 70s.  51  Trudy and Edwin  have played a major role in "parenting" the community of Ahousaht since the late '60's. Both have been active politically serving on band councils and committees but have made their greatest contribution to the health and justice areas of the community. Trudy has integrated traditional and modern medical teachings for the community. Edwin, coming from a q ayac'iik (wolf) lineage, has enacted that peacekeeping role through the w  policing and justice system after his appointment by the ha?w'il in the mid 60's. I interviewed Trudy and Edwin in my livingroom in Nanaimo after they had come for an overnight visit November 29-30, 1999. Neither Trudy nor Edwin had heard this particular story before although Trudy may have forgotten it since they were told so many stories as children. "I was trying to remember.. .1 probably did but shoved it in the back of my mind. But it sounds like so many others that we heard about, not specifically this story... even with the story of the  Trudy was one of the first CHRs to be trained in British Columbia in 1969. She served several years past her retirement date of March 1996. CHRs are First Nations community members that actively advocate and educate at the social and bureaucratic interface between status Indians living on reserve and the health services to which they were eligible through medical services. 50  The Ahousaht Freight Service consists mainly of a two trip per week freight boat service by the M V Solander. This freight service is the major means of bringing goods in and out of Ahousaht from Tofino and other points on the West Coast of Vancouver Island. 5 1  144  sea lion." For Trudy the learning process is the focus of this story, particularly the motivational aspect of learning. "It was a similar story to this, it was like entering their realm to try and find out about them where they take their coats off to come...they're different when they take their coats off. They always had to prove themselves. They had stories like this about the sea lion and bear about if they took their coats off and leaned their ways [they] got their powers through them. Like with the whale,they were trying to empower themselves [through oosumch] to weaken the whale's spirit." For Edwin the focus is the procedural aspect of learning as the central organizing metaphors he uses as his personal schema are drawn from athletics and sports contests, goals, " what Trudy was saying about Dr. Atleo.. .he could make up his mind and put his whole being into it and when he reached that goal and from that goal he said I can go farther... "meek", that's where it comes from in when he reaches his goal he could go a little farther and made the next goal again." They were able to shed some light on two of the names and elaborated on the meaning of Umeek as an abstract and procedural concept related to learning. They both believed that there is much valuable teaching in these types of stories to share with Nuu-chah-mdth children and that classroom teachers could enhance the ability of Nuu-chah-nulth students to learn in both formal and informal educational settings by using such stories. Trudy maintains that the story is understood by listening for the critical principles and elements that make the story understandable and interpretable. She was told so many stories as a child that she feels confident about how stories work. Many of the stories refer to the time before the Transformers came when everything was still qu'aas, even the birds. Every thing was the same at that time and thus they could all enter into the realm of each other. Now everything is different and those differences need to be understood so  145  that the important details of the story are heard. She suggests that even when people obtain knowledge through visual learning that they need to prove themselves to others as a demonstration of having obtained the knowledge, of having learned the lessons. Thus, in the story of Umeek, his preparation to hunt whales only becomes a problem when he demonstrates that he can successfully make pacts with whales that he may land them repeatedly. Umeek demonstrates that he has power to consistently bring in whales. Edwin evokes sports tropes, which are his personal preference for discussing learning. As a gifted athlete from his youth, Edwin's procedural and motivational sports tropes for learning are highly differentiated and elaborated. Edwin's examples animate him even as he speaks of the power of the mind to become strong in the face of opponents (i.e. other runners, whales, seals, etc.) to rehearse every detail of the preparation for the event (i.e., mental and physical rehearsal) to orchestrate motivation (i.e., spiritual preparation) until it is optimal for the task. He describes how ritual 52  practices of the family of origin and later socialization both play into the picture for him. "In my family it was the same [as Trudy's], it's exactly what you said [mind power] they become stronger than the [animal they are pursuing] they prepare to go out and they become the stronger one. I managed to catch a whale. Seals were was the highest [of my achievements]. What ever was possible."  Rae (in press) suggests that optimal motivation can be cultivated. He conceptualizes optimal motivation as a "flow" experience (Csikszentmichalyi, 1997, 1990, 1993) whereby individuals become ".. .absorbed in a task that they lose track of time and their efforts seem "effortless..." under conditions of "...(a) optimal challenge, (b) undivided interest, and (c) optimal arousal". Rae uses reversal theory (Apter, 2001) to demonstrate how the synergy of serious minded/goal oriented balanced by playful minded/experience oriented processes result in "...the optimal motivation of "serious fun... [whereby]... students are able to sustain high levels of talent development without burnout or dropout." (p. 12) 146  Both Trudy and Edwin agree that anything can be learned through simulation and imitation. "I guess they would sort of copy the way the whales would go about," said Trudy as she recalled Chief Benson showing a group of children how whales moved. She believes that understanding the object or goal that was desired to be achieved could increase self-confidence.  She said that Richard was named Umeek because he  demonstrated that he had learned how to achieve his goals not just once, which might be the product of serendipity but that he could be successful repeatedly. Umeek can be about going for anything. It could be what a person is good at "getting", such as getting fish in afishingeconomy, getting whales in a whaling economy, or getting any other thing that is worthwhile. Umeek is a name that suggests the skill of self-discipline for the achievement of anything one sets ones mind on because they put their whole being into it allowing them to achieve increasingly. Tsahwasip suggests to them a person that is so well prepared and so spiritually favored that he can get the great whale in one try. O f course the "getting" requires the "getter" and the "gotten" to be in synergistic synchronicity in an economy of reciprocity. In addition, while the concept of "getting" this is not limited to any specific context, it is learned specifically in each context. " Hippolite Thomas was called Tuk-meek which was short for Tuk-ook meek which was about getting sea lions. He was good at getting sea lions," said Trudy. Trudy and Edwin also agreed that jealousy is the root of the central conflict in the story and that the story is used to draw attention to some of these issues. The story is about the way in which Umeek and others learned to whale. Trudy suggested that it might work today without the ritual bathing if people understood how it worked. Using stories such as this one would help to get people thinking about achieving goals. "You could also use it to get them thinking about HOW they would go about it." Stories could help people understand how to achieve. For young people to understand how stories 147  worked would require that they be familiar with stories from early childhood. Edwin suggested that there needs to be a motivational drawing card such as was used traditionally. Edwin said, ".. .the way they used to talk on Seal Lion Rock . They used 53  to talk, similar to a sermon in a church.. .you need one or two in a group, get half a dozen people in here and listen to something like that and one will catch on right away and from that person it will will open up like that and other people will start learning from it...taking out words like 'Umeek , 'Tsdhwasip', getting one word and working on it 1  [to get at the culture]." In potlatches, old women would be the ones to announce good news. Edwin believed people need to be purposefully attracted to motivate them through curiosity and then the spreading of the knowledge would be contagious as people learn from each other and reflect on what they are doing. Trudy and Edwin suggested that there need to be different ways to show things, to get the point across such as formal public lessons, plays, stories, songs, and ritual activities to point to what is important. Trudy recalled how the Nim-chah-nulth women sat in rapt attention as she told stories at a recent conference. The women were eager to learn what had been denied them through the residential school process and cultural shaming. Trudy went on, "I guess that is the way it was for us as kids because we would hear that story over and over again. Sometimes it would take a few nights for my grandmother to tell [the story] because when she's telling the story they sang and [acted out] how [the characters] did it and all that." Edwin agreed that we need to start somewhere to help them get interested so that they may catch the fire of interest that the younger generations may know qu'aas (Nuu-chah-mdth) history, spirituality and how to achieve success. "I feel the same way as Gertrude. It would be profitable. I would say  Sealion Rock is the highest point mMaaqtusiis above the beach from which announcements are made. 53  148  that someone would pick it up in a classroom or somewhere else and say that this is something to learn about, especially a qu'aas, ... when they see something like that they will own some part of this because of being qu'aas" Trudy added, "And then history will stay." For Trudy and Edwin stories provided understanding, guidance and direction particularly concerning the ancestral preparation of oosumch because it allows a recalibration of the person, a re-balancing of self. Louie Joseph Louie Joseph's mother, Edna, was my husband's grandfather Shamrock's half sister through their mother, Jessie Titian. That makes Louie my uncle by marriage. Louie's father Simon has privileges from Oo-in-mit-is, on the inside of Meares Island, by which he is seated in the Kelsemaht confederacy. Louie trained as a cabinet maker. He was fisherman and boat owner. His own recovery from alcoholism led him into training in drug and alcohol counseling and group facilitation training at the Nichii Institute in Alberta. Louie has a Social Service Worker Diploma, and is employed as a family violence worker, clinical counselor and traditional healer in Ahousaht. Louie annually attends the Sundance ceremonies in Montana and is one of the sweat masters for Ahousaht ceremonies. Louie has been active in the Ahousaht Education Authority and was the Chairperson when the First Native Elementary Secondary School was built in Maaqtusiis. He has been twice married to First Nations women from the Mainland. He has six adult children, Louie, Jr., Heidi, Simon, Arthur, Oscar and Carolyn, and nine grandchildren. He is an elder of both the Joseph and the Louie family. I interviewed Louie in the Ahousaht Holistic Center just after the Ahousaht Canoe Fest on Wednesday, August 18, 1999, where he was a volunteer at the time and where we had previously worked together.  149  Louie had not heard this particular story before but was amazed to find that the setting for this story is his ancestral home. It is a territory that he knows well and uses ritually in part as described in the story. "Its ironic that after I came off my fast I read the stories and I was moving towards that lake...and I thought WOW!" Louie particularly related to the ritual aspects of learning beliefs and correlates them readily to western aspects of education and expectations for learning. While Louie was not familiar with the names, he did have some important observations about the positional relationships between the characters. Louie believes that stories such