W8kwses in Nd’akinna

red fox w8kwses winter

In the interests of sharing some of the insightful conversations happening here and there… A discussion of the Abenaki names for “fox” and its variants on the Western Abenaki Facebook page this past week (02.09.2019) led to a discovery about its original and expansionist range. I would like to archive that dialogue here.

How would you conjunct “red fox” as a person’s name aln8baiwi? I was thinking mkuigow8kwses
Mkuiw8kwses
Mkuigiw8kwses

Eric Brier Mkwiôkwses. For a name: Liwizo mkwiôkwses or ni wizwôgan mkwiôkwses or however to indicate it’s a name. So either liwizi- “to be called” or “wizwôgan” for “name”
Joseph Joubert If white fox is w8bi8kwes it stands to reason mekwi8kwes is red fox. I rest me case.

Wendell Sanborn Joseph Joubert wliwni Nijia Thank you brother

 

Wendell Sanborn Joseph JoubertJoseph so would it also make good grammatical sense pinefox would be koai8kweses?
Joseph Joubert No, because there is no such word in the English language as pinefox.

Wendell Sanborn Joseph Joubert thank you wliwni

Conor Quinn As Joseph Joubert points out, the main way to do it is likely

mkwi(w)ôkwsess

That’d be my best guess, too.

If you wanted to do it the other way, it would not be mkwigiôkwsess but
makwigit wôkwsess

…but that would be a more roundabout, literal ‘fox that is red’, so I think Elie’s version is more natural, and as he shows, more fits the pattern of similar expressions.

Joseph Joubert Thank you Conor. I have trouble expressing why I choose something other than I would use it. Thank you for offering a reason for its use. I am not a pro, but I was brought up surrounded by Abenaki speakers. My mother would stop others in the language, and announce that her son understands what is being said in Abenaki.
Rich Holschuh I could be wrong but I was under the impression that w8kwses IS the name for a red fox, as the type for all the others. Gray fox has his own name: wibegwigid w8kwses. White fox has his own name: w8biw8kwses. So it may be duplicative to specify mkwi8kwses, but it certainly does clarify!

Wendell Sanborn Rich Holschuh w8kwses = fox. But I am understanding it is a “given” that it is red as it is not specifically mentioned otherwise. Is this correct?
Rich Holschuh Wendell, I could be off the mark, but that was my understanding. Happy to learn otherwise if it is not so.

 

Jesse Bruchac Rich Holschuh I suspect it just means fox as red foxes are new to the area only migrating into the northeast in the 1800s or possibly introduced from Europe around that time.

Rich Holschuh Jesse, your answer provoked surprise and then curiosity. I was not aware that red foxes had that sort of range history. So I looked into it and found a great recent paper on exactly that!

I found that your observation did indeed have basis, but was able to get some clarification around the delimitations of native and expansionist ranges. I was pleased to learn that the study’s conclusions were that the eastern red fox’s original range approximates the Wabanaki homelands (map below). Whereas the map show the approximate southern bounds coming nearly to the MA state line, I did note that some of their Eastern native test samples seemed to come from Fort Orange/Albany area. Perhaps that line is a little fuzzy and might more closely correlate to the biomes (montane vs pine-oak plains) that also approximate the northern MA line.

Meaning, the Abenaki people did know the red fox as native, and had a word for that particular relative (possibly w8kwses?) and may even have enjoyed some trade advantage with more southern groups due to that!

No photo description available.
Rich Holschuh The map key is a little cut-off on the left. Expand the image to full screen to view. (Light gray is the Eastern lineage genetic clade)
Jesse Bruchac Rich Holschuh really cool! Wliwni for sharing. I was raised under the notion they were invasive. But I do love those little red foxes! Nice to know they’ve called Ndakinna home for so long. ❤️

Wendell Sanborn kchi wliwni Lich!!! thank you Rich!!! I am so happy that you posted this info about foxes being from here!!!

 

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Nahmetawanzik, Ames Hill, Brattleboro

nahmetawanzik ames hill

Nahmetawanzik, Ames Hill,  Brattleboro, VT – a summer house on the south side of Ames Hill Road around the turn of the past century.

A photograph by Porter C. Thayer, circa 1905.

A sociocultural trend began in the late 19th century – continuing well into the mid-1900s – of dubbing summer camps and cabins with Native-inspired names, many of dubious origin and/or translation. This movement sprang from the influence of the work of educators, scientists, authors, and social activists following the stifling Victorian era, individuals such as G. Stanley Hall, Ernest Thompson Seton, and Daniel Carter Beard, meshing with the progressive social reforms of the time. Mixing recapitulation theories of adolescent development, the romantic idealist’s adoption of the noble savage, nationalism, a newfound mobility, and the financial ability to indulge in outdoor recreation, America took to its reclaimed, appropriated, whitewashed roots with enthusiasm. The proliferation of Camps Hiawatha – Keewaydin – Weehawkin – Runamuck – Thunderhawk – Kootenay was a wonder to behold. On a smaller but more prolific scale, private vacation cabins and cottages followed suit. Some of these names were deliberate fabrications, evoking a fancied Indian motif or alliteration. Others had a more authentic origin, or attempted to emulate such.

***

The house on Ames Hill seems to fit into the latter category. At this point, we don’t know the identity of the property owner or their intentions, but it is possible to make some educated guesses, based on both word structure and its practical application. The word Nahmetawanzik demonstrates several basic Algonquian language characteristics: first personal possession or action with the initial “n”, small compounding morphemes, and a locative ending with a “k”. Although we can by no means assume that the word was derived from the indigenous language of this land Aln8ba8dwaw8gan/Western Abenaki, it actually corresponds quite closely. I put the question out to members of a Western Abenaki language forum. This is what came back:

Jesse Bruchac: Sounds like “one sees something” from “namit8zik” a bit to me on a first pass . Is there a good view there?

Rich Holschuh: Without going out there to see if it’s still standing, I can’t say exactly. But Ames Hill Rd. does have grand views east in general. And this seems to be one of a number of summer houses that were/are up there. Awesome first pass, Jesse !

Marge Bruchac: Or it might be a pseudo-Indian invented name, which was the fashion among white folks building summer homes in the era (and in the northeast in general). Other camps in the same area (also photographed by Porter C. Thayer) include Quiturkare (quit your care) and Welikeit (we like it).

Joseph Joubert: I totally agree with with Marge Bruchac. This is a fictitious name. However, I also agree with Jesse Bruchac. I am seeing another word there – “wan” – lost, hidden away. This is my take on it. Remember this is not a word in the Abenaki Language of Odanak. “Something inanimate seen hidden away”. I am also getting “wild turkey” out of it – ha ha! That is why I say it is a fictitious name conjured up without the knowledge of the Algonquin grammer. “zik” is what tells me it is something inanimate. Jesse, I think “pazombwôgan” would mean “view”.

***

There were (and still are) several summer places on Ames Hill Road, rising from Brattleboro to Marlboro as it heads west and climbs into the foothills of the Green Mountains. It’s a beautiful landscape, open to the east and south, rolling forested hills with meadows and orchards, and little brooks and springs tumbling down the slopes. Wantastekw Wajo/Mount Wantastiquet stands tall and abrupt in the mid-distance, about 5-8 miles away to the east, along the Kwanitekw/Connecticut River. So, it’s not much of a conjecture to suppose that the homeowner, or an acquaintance with some knowledge of the area’s Abenaki heritage, came up with a fitting descriptor to the effect of n’namit8wanzik – “I see the lost place” – (the Wantastekw/Lost River/West River mountain). Or simply, as Jesse suggested, namit8zik, “one sees something” – the pronunciation of the Abenaki vowel “8” can suggest a “w”sound between syllables.  This phrase might also poetically signify a romantic view back to the “vanished and noble” Native heritage. I will keep looking for more clues to this pictorial mystery… the structure’s site, the original owner, their disposition and motivations.

T8ni Kizos Wazwasa – Winter Solstice

Terraced lines shine silver,
Layers upon the cross-hatched riverbanks
Threads of smoke rise still and silent from domed shelters
No dog barks at the half moon.

Long night gone in the morning chill,
Slow light gleams at eastward door
Sun comes returning, scarce recognized
But met with quiet welcome.

A long time we will go
A long time ’til we know
A long time still to grow
Along time, ever so.

***

Among the Abenaki people, the winter solstice is the beginning of the new year. As elder Elie Joubert has told us, this time is known as Peboniwi, t8ni kizos wazwasa – In winter, when the sun returns to the same place.

The custom is to begin the new year by offering these words:
Anhaldamawi kasi palilawalian – Forgive any wrong I may have done to you.

N’wikodo io mina, liwlaldamana – I ask this as well, please.

A New Year

Notably amongst the northeastern Algonquian tribal territorialities, the W8banakiak have been described as a riverine people. The various band’s homelands are centered on watersheds – a river and its dependent streams, lakes, marshes, and floodplains.  Whereas many other tribes would reckon their lands in terms of primarily terrestrial landmarks such as mountains, rivers, lakes, and perhaps a certain forest or clump of trees, denoting borders within which they circulated, the Abenaki centered themselves within the waters, ranging out through a branching, interconnected bowl [sources: Speck, Snow]. As an example, in this place I dwell, known today as Brattleboro – near where the states of Vermont, New Hampshire and Massachusetts converge – the annual cycles of life revolve around the gathering of the Kwanitekw, Wantastekw, and Azewalad Sibo (Connecticut, West, and Ashuelot Rivers), with their respective tributary brooks, lakes, and ponds pitching down from the valleys and ranges .

A family’s hunting territories, above the plantings flourishing upon the floodplains and river terraces (the wolhanak), were bounded by these watery, connecting sinews, and stretched up into the hills and mountains to the next ridge top division. A person would describe their homeland as n’sibo, my river, allying with that flowing, veined world as a part of their own identity, a unity, all the same. Intimately familiar with the land, and its fellow dwellers – whether animate or inanimate – a person saw themselves as a continuous part of the spirits there, with roles to play and responsibilities to honor, inconceivably separable.

This merging may perhaps be seen in the phrase n’dai, which can mean “I am” – describing oneself – as well as “I live” – in a certain place. An understanding of this can help to inform the depth of the relationship between the homeland and its people, one so profound they merged into a single entity. The people are the land, and the land is the people. To separate them, as recent history has so graphically inscribed, is to assault the meaning of life itself, leaving it broken and futile. Healing can be found only in a restoration of relationship, a re-balancing through reciprocity among the community of beings. Note the prefix “re-” occurring in all of these words, meaning “again” and speaking of cycles, and the Great Hoop of Life.

This healing comes through an awareness of what is lacking, or what is interfering, with the flowing continuity of the river of life, and then addressing that lack, or obstruction. At the beginning of the New Year –  Alamikos – with the winter solstice and the return of the sun, the Abenaki have a custom of asking for forgiveness, and a fresh start in the new season. As elder Joseph Elie Joubert tells us: “The new year’s forgiveness time is called Anhaldamawadin = The act of forgiving. We would go to the house of the people we offended during the past year and say the following: “Anhaldamawi kassi plilawawlan”. It is basically saying “Forgive me for the many wrongs I did you.”

wantastegok n'dakinna my river

N’sibo, my river, is Wantastekw, where it meets Kwanitekw. N’dai Wantastegok, Sokwakik, known today as Brattleboro. And so I say, to all my relatives here:

N’didam n’dal8gom8mek Wantastegok: Anhaldamawi kasi palilawalian.

Please forgive any wrong I may have done to you in the past.

It is a new year. Alosada, mina ta mina. Let us walk together, again and again.

Going, Going, Gone: Endangered Languages

Vermont Edition host Jane Lindholm (of Vermont Public Radio) spoke with UVM professor Emily Manetta about the intertwined effects of language loss and its impact on cultural heritage. Special attention is paid to Aln8ba8dwaw8gan, the language spoken by the Western Abenaki people of Vermont, New Hampshire, and southern Quebec (today’s approximate area). Jesse Bruchac, language scholar and teacher with elder Joseph Elie Joubert, shares his perspectives and his work with the hosts.