Thanks to Solomon Ratt for this reflection in th-dialect in honour of National Indigenous People’s Day, a reminder that adaptability is the key to survival!
cultâhtisîhcikîwin
mistahi pî-pâh-pîtosipathin nîhithaw-pimâcihowin. âtiht pîtosipathowina mithwâsinwa, âtiht mâthâtanwa. âh-âhcipathinwa nîhithaw itwîwina—âtiht kiwanîhtânaw, âtiht kitoskîhtânaw. âh-âhcipathinaw nîhithaw isîhcikîwina—âtiht kipakitinînaw, âtiht kitotinamâsonaw kotakihk athisitinînâhk ohci.
kiyâm.
ikosi kâ-isi-paspîhtâyahk kinîhithawâtisiwininaw.
kinihtâ-âtisîhcikânaw.
ᐋᐦᑎᓰᐦᒋᑮᐏᐣ
ᒥᐢᑕᐦᐃ ᐲ ᐹᐦ ᐲᑐᓯᐸᖨᐣ ᓃᐦᐃᖬᐤ ᐱᒫᒋᐦᐅᐏᐣ᙮ ᐋᑎᐦᐟ ᐲᑐᓯᐸᖪᐏᓇ ᒥᙽᓯᓌ, ᐋᑎᐦᐟ ᒫᖭᑕᓌ᙮ ᐋᐦᐋᐦᒋᐸᖨᓌ ᓃᐦᐃᖬᐤ ᐃᑜᐏᓇ—ᐋᑎᐦᐟ ᑭᐘᓃᐦᑖᓇᐤ, ᐋᑎᐦᐟ ᑭᑐᐢᑮᐦᑖᓇᐤ᙮ ᐋᐦᐋᐦᒋᐸᖨᓇᐤ ᓃᐦᐃᖬᐤ ᐃᓰᐦᒋᑮᐏᓇ—ᐋᑎᐦᐟ ᑭᐸᑭᑎᓃᓇᐤ, ᐋᑎᐦᐟ ᑭᑐᑎᓇᒫᓱᓇᐤ ᑯᑕᑭᕽ ᐊᖨᓯᑎᓃᓈᕽ ᐅᐦᒋ᙮
ᑭᔮᒼ᙮
ᐃᑯᓯ ᑳ ᐃᓯ ᐸᐢᐲᐦᑖᔭᕽ ᑭᓃᐦᐃᖬᐚᑎᓯᐏᓂᓇᐤ᙮
ᑭᓂᐦᑖ ᐋᑎᓰᐦᒋᑳᓇᐤ᙮
Innovation
There have been many changes in the Cree way of life. Some changes have been good, some have been bad. There have been shifts in Cree words—some we have lost, some we have made new. There have been changes in Cree culture—some customs we have let go, some we have taken from other cultures.
No matter.
That is how we save our Cree ways.
We are innovative.
Bree Island has generously allowed us to share her original image of muskrats, an allusion to the essential role Muskrat played helping Elder Brother recreate the world in the story of the flood.
Although Sol gave me this piece without editorializing, I have to add a comment because I love this thought so much! It addresses (however indirectly) a genuine cause of language death: resistance to change. No matter how well intentioned it may be, trying to lock language into some idealized state from the past, into a standard set by any one individual or community, or simply trying to stop change from happening, is not the course of resilience and recovery. One of my favourite linguistics “truths” is this: “The only languages that aren’t changing are dead languages.”
If you need proof that innovation in Cree has been around for ages, consider the Cree words mostos and paskwâwi-mostos. Buffalo have been around a lot longer, yet the prefix meaning “prairie” seems to suggest a different kind of cow. It’s hardly likely that buffalo (which came first) were named after cows!
In fact, in older days, the mostos was the buffalo. Then, when settlers arrived with cattle, a new word was needed. The function was similar: both large herbivores, suitable for providing meat. For a while, mostos probably referred to both. By the time differentiation became essential – and the buffalo had largely disappeared from the plains – cows were more common. So cows took over the word “mostos”, and buffalo became “paskwawi-mostos”, literally “prairie cows”.
Here’s an example from English: You know that little electronic communication device you keep in your pocket, it’s your “phone” right? Not long ago you probably called it a “cell”, or even a “mobile”. Because twenty years ago – when cell phones were brand new innovations – they were a rarity. Back then, a “phone” was the hard-wired device permanently installed in your home. So how do you refer to that (increasingly rare) hard-wired phone these days? Now, they’re often called “land lines”. Because innovation leads more to innovation.
Living languages adapt to reflect the realities of our every-day world. Innovation in language is natural, and healthy. Contact with speakers from other areas, and accepting their differences as variation (rather than errors) is also natural and healthy. It’s the sort of thing that happened every summer (before the pass system): families would travel and camp together at summer fishing grounds, where living in close proximity gave them exposure to the language innovations of other communities.
In the recovery and revitalization of language, innovation is key.
Happy National Indigenous People’s Day, 2025: May your innovation be strong, and your language be deadly!
