Native language classes teach manners in addition to words (fwd)

[phil cash cash]

Native language classes teach manners in addition to words
Students want to reclaim culture, bone up or learn a new tongue
http://www.adn.com/front/story/4901271p-4836278c.html

[two photo insets]

By SANDI GERJEVIC
Anchorage Daily News

(Published: March 29, 2004)

It is a sunny spring morning, but Moon Woman, Bear Woman, Little Bird
and Baby Baby -- their translated Aleut names -- are huddled inside an
annex of the Alaska Native Heritage Center, trying to master the sound
of a rough "G."

In the western dialect of the Aleut, or Unangax, language, the sound of
a regular "G" comes from one part of the mouth and the sound of a rough
"G" comes from another -- subtle but critical to meaning.

"Forget it. You're going to get yourself upset," Sally Swetzof (Moon
Woman) tells her aunt, Angelina Guenther (Baby Baby). Guenther is
trying hard to get her tongue around a certain word but gives the whole
thing up with an "Ay-yi-yi."

Swetzof, the instructor, was a little tougher on her aunt than the other
two students, calling on her often, coaching her through words and
correcting her with a firm "No, aunt."

Unangax is one of four Alaska Native language classes taught at the
Heritage Center weekly in March. The program draws Natives and
non-Natives of all ages, said the center's Kay Ashton. Some attend to
bone up for Bush travel. Some want enough of their own cultural
language to introduce themselves publicly. Others have personal
reasons.

Guenther forgot her language when she left Atka to attend boarding
school at age 6. Now, at 63, she wants to recapture it.

"It was such a part of me when I was younger," she said.

Sitting next to her, Tatiana Petticrew (Little Bird) was a striking
contrast. A crown of black hair fell across her shoulders. She wore a
sprinkle of garnets in her earlobes, and her nails were painted coal
black. Petticrew, 11, has studied Unangax in Atka since preschool. When
she and her mother, Jolene Petticrew (Bear Woman), moved to Anchorage,
Tatiana wanted to continue lessons with Swetzof, who also teaches in
the Aleutian Region School District.

The women pored over words like baliikax (smoked fish), gis-xix
(rookery) and ganax (the glow in the sky when the sun is setting).

Along with mastering ways to introduce themselves and other conversation
starters, students pick up a few protocol pointers for traveling in the
Alaska Bush -- things like learning to wait a few beats after asking a
question. It's one of the things that irks Swetzof: when a non-Native
asks a question and then, not getting an instant response, jumps in
with another or, worse yet, asks the question in another way, as if the
Native person hadn't understood.

Phrasing is important in speaking to an elder, said Marie Meade, who
teaches a class in Yup'ik. In that case, you might say: "Would you like
some coffee?" Not "Do you want coffee?" There is a distinction that
shows a measure of respect, she said.

Here is another tip: If someone offers you food you don't want, it's OK
to say "No, thanks" if you say it in a nice way. Sometimes, it's
easiest to tell the truth. For example, if you're hopping a prop plane
in a few hours, you might explain that you have to be careful what you
eat. An even simpler tack is to ask the host to wrap a portion to go.

"Whatever you do with it after that, it's between you and the all-seeing
eye," said Paul Marks, who teaches a Tlingit class at the center later
on Saturdays.

Marks revealed common cultural gaffes. In Tlingit, it's considered
inappropriate to ask a lot of questions, he said. There's a time for
that, but to lead off a conversation with questions might be considered
forward or rude. Traditionally, you would avoid asking anyone for
anything in a direct manner.

An example would be a woman who wants her husband to clean out the
garage. Not only would she not ask directly, she would not even ask
indirectly. She would wait until the husband was within earshot and
then mention to someone else how badly the garage needs to be cleaned.

Also, in a formal setting, women allow men to take the lead when
speaking, Marks said. He acknowledged these are cultural practices that
may be out of fashion or in direct opposition to a Western style (and
maddening to women, in fact). Nevertheless, he said, "When in Rome ..."

Marks, 54, grew up in Juneau, speaking Tlingit in his family, which he
characterized as a long-standing and traditional clan. He has traveled
and earned an education at a number of schools. He once dated a
non-Native woman. In most contexts, she suited him well. But in the
company of other Natives, she stood out.

"When she was in my circle, her cultural etiquette ... was very obvious
to me," he said. Marks had trouble defining that exactly, except to say
the girlfriend was too exuberant, too boisterous, too willing to lead
the conversation.

"It was so un-Tlingit," he said.

That's not a bad thing, he added. But it is different from how he was
raised.

Once, Marks said, he was sitting at a table with his sister, who is in
her mid-70s. She turned to him and asked whether he'd ever heard the
Lord's Prayer sung in Tlingit, as the Russian Orthodox sing it. No, he
said. So she sang it to him.

Marks thought about that exchange for some time. He understood there was
a difference between his sister telling him he needed to know the song
and her offering the song to him, almost as a gift.

In general, the rules of etiquette that apply in town are the same in
the Bush and incorporate common sense, the language teachers said. Take
your shoes off (it's an Alaska thing). Be quiet and listen. Ask before
blundering in. Thank people. Be sincere. In other words, a respectful
manner and a smile go a long way in any language.

When a culture has been offended so many times, Marks said, it shuts
down. And that, he pointed out, is the death of communication.

Daily News features writer Sandi Gerjevic can be reached at 257-4325 or
sgerjevic at adn.com.