IN THEIR OWN WORDS
Indigenous artists reclaim languages
“Tel pit aw sin,e ski ma ti mu’ sip nek nike’ mnja’sin.”
(All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise — Lennon/McCartney)
Listening to the haunting voice of high-school student Emma Stevens sing the Beatles' classic, Blackbird, in her traditional language, Mi'kmaq, lends a new perspective to the lyrics we know so well.
Recorded in the Cape Breton community of Eskasoni and uploaded to YouTube last spring, the beautiful performance was created to commemorate the United Nations' International Year of Indigenous Languages.
With more than a million views to date and a shout-out from Paul McCartney himself, it turned into a viral hit that brought the unique sound of an Indigenous language to the mainstream. For many, it was their first time actually hearing one of the dozens of Indigenous languages spoken in Canada.
To recast the song's theme, Indigenous Peoples have been waiting for this moment for many lifetimes. For too long, they were banned from speaking their languages, taking part in ceremonies or otherwise practising their culture, as stipulated by law, specifically the Indian Act of 1876.
Last year's Indigenous Languages Act represents an official endeavour to reverse this cultural suppression by supporting efforts to “reclaim, revitalize, maintain and strengthen” Indigenous languages.
Stevens, of course, is not the only Canadian artist to use the arts to reclaim and revitalize her language. We've been seeing the rise of Indigenous languages in popular music over the past decade with the breakthrough of acts such as the Ottawa-based A Tribe Called Red, Inuk singer Tanya Tagaq and Jeremy Dutcher, the classically trained Indigenous tenor from Tobique First Nation in New Brunswick.
Dutcher's debut album, Wolastoqiyik Lintuwakonawa, sung entirely in Wolastoq and based on archival recordings of his ancestor's songs, not only earned the 2018 Polaris Music Prize but also the 2019 Juno Award for Indigenous music album of the year.
Another example of success with Indigenous words comes from Twin Flames, the Ottawa-based duo of Chelsey June and Jaaji. The award-winning Métis-Inuk couple was selected to write the anthem for the UNESCO year, and came up with the empowering Human, which blends Indigenous and English lyrics in a message of unity.
Artists in other disciplines, too, are incorporating their languages into their work. In an installation by artist Joi T. Arcand, Plains Cree syllabics in neon pink adorn the walkway leading up to the Àbadakone exhibit of contemporary
The voices that are emerging are so strong and talented. I think there’s an Indigenous renaissance and the youth are taking back the controls.
Indigenous art at the National Gallery of Canada. Another piece by Arcand places the Cree word for “dance” in a prominent position on a wall at Club SAW, the nightclub venue of Ottawa's SAW Gallery.
Indigenous languages are also employed in compelling works of theatre such as Kiinalik: These Sharp Tools, presented as part of the National Arts Centre's new Indigenous theatre department, on until Feb. 9 at the Great Canadian Theatre Company.
The medium of film is especially effective for telling Indigenous stories, as the team at Wapikoni, a non-profit Montreal-based organization, has discovered. For 15 years, it's been working hard to knock down the walls that prevent Indigenous people from making movies, including lack of access to equipment and training.
Every year, the organization sends its mobile studios to First Nations communities across the country, spending about a month in each spot to help budding filmmakers produce a short film or piece of music. They visit 16 to 20 communities each year, and residents usually come up with four to eight short films on any topic they choose. About 100 films a year are produced, according to Wapikoni executive director Odile Joannette.
Recent works document a day in the life of an Inuk hunter, a throat-singing practice, a group of elders learning a song, and a Kitigan Zibi mom who loves to race cars.
Back in the office, Wapikoni staff work hard to get the films seen, submitting them to about 5,000 film festivals, environmental conferences or political events around the world. They also have mobile equipment to set up an outdoor cinema in the First Nations communities, and even the ability to mount a winter snowmobile tour to bring the films to fly-in communities in Northern Quebec.
“We don't have an economic model, we have an impact model,” said Joannette in an interview. “What we want to do is impact the minds of the people who are seeing those pieces and hearing those forgotten voices. We believe bringing those voices into the social debate will probably foster change.”
Compared to a decade ago, Joannette senses more of a desire from audiences to hear Indigenous stories and explore the issues, an appetite that's likely grown with the awareness generated by reports released by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls.
The growing concern for environmental issues is likely another factor in the increasing interest in Indigenous culture, she added, as First Nations communities are often the ones protecting their land from development.
Wapikoni's 15-year history and extensive catalogue of films puts it at the forefront of the revival of Indigenous languages around the world, a movement that shows no sign of slowing down.
In fact, last month the United Nations declared an International Decade of Indigenous Languages, to begin in 2022, “to draw attention to the critical loss of Indigenous languages and the urgent need to preserve, revitalize, and promote Indigenous language” and to “take urgent steps at the national and international levels.”
To dig deeper into the challenges facing Indigenous creators as the officially declared Decade draws closer, the organization is hosting its first International Symposium on Indigenous Languages at the Canadian Museum of History on Tuesday, Feb. 11. Guests of honour include Perry Bellegarde, National Chief of the Assembly of First Nations, and Tarcila Rivera Zea, designated member of the U.N.'s Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues.
“I've always believed in the power of the arts to create bridges between people and generations, and to create unity,” said Joannette, who is an Inuu from Pessamit, Que., and Wapikoni's first Indigenous executive director.
“The voices that are emerging are so strong and talented. I think there's an Indigenous renaissance and the youth are taking back the controls. They're modernizing traditions and doing things differently and wowing audiences with their creations. We want to support what's going well, and also look at what they want for the future.” (To watch films produced by Wapikoni Mobile, go to wapikoni.ca.) lsaxberg@postmedia.com