Courtesy of the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay - Oneida elder Maria Hinton, 100, has dedicated decades to teaching her ancestral language to students, including this group from the Oneida Nation School System.

Hinton recently put the finishing touches on an exhaustive recording of the Oneida dictionary. Taking five years of almost daily work, she recorded 12,000 audio files, including tens of thousands of Oneida words, and told stories she first heard in her mother tongue.

Hinton’s had a lot to celebrate in recent weeks—including her 100th birthday on June 5. Last year she was named one of the first recipients of the Prism Award from the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian for her quest to save the Oneida language.

“I am not completely retired,” said Hinton, of Oneida, Wis. “We need to keep doing this so the young people can learn things and then they can pass them on.”

Beside her, a young woman named LeAnne Thompson listens on the phone to the questions. She repeats them in English or Oneida for Hinton, who is hard of hearing, before Hinton takes the phone back and answers in English. Thompson has been Hinton’s pupil for 22 years, starting when she was 8.
By the time she reached her 20s, Thompson realized that what she had amassed was knowledge of words, not conversational language.

She began visiting Hinton at her home, taking her to lunch and helping her with errands. Together they speak Oneida, the young woman who is now 30 keying on every inflection and turn of phrase her elder imparts.

For Hinton, Thompson is a model of the way the Oneida must now work to recover their languages. “She has four children and is a very active mom,” the elder says. “She comes here to learn.”

Hinton was among a generation that grew up speaking and hearing Oneida as the dominant language on the reservation near Green Bay, Wis. She was 10 in 1920 when she went to school and learned English. But she held onto her first language, standing up to matrons in order to keep her knowledge of Oneida alive.

“It was the predominant language when she was born, and for quite a few years after she became an adult,” said Jerry Hill, who is Oneida and president of the Indigenous Language Institute in Santa Fe, N.M. “Over time people got assimilated, got jobs outside, got married, and it became less necessary.”

Still Hinton remembered. Her memory is a gift that was recognized in a name, Yaké-yahle, given to her at a gathering in Canada when she was 46. It means She Remembers.

A year later she left Wisconsin on a one-way plane ticket to Los Angeles to be with her only son’s family. Her grandson, Ernie Stevens Jr., the chairman of the National Indian Gaming Association, reflected on her move to California when he accepted the Prism Award on her behalf in October at the museum in Washington, D.C.  She cleaned houses and waited tables to help support the family, he recalled.

“She always has had a track record of being noble and proud,” Stevens said. “I don’t know how you get all that, and she don’t take any crap from nobody.”

In 1971, she returned to Wisconsin with her family. Soon she and her brother, Amos Christjohn, began working with the Oneida Nation to teach the language to a generation of children who knew only English.  Two years later, at the age of 63, Hinton enrolled in the University of Wisconsin to earn her bachelor’s degree, even learning to drive so she could get to her classes.

She graduated cum laude in 1979 to become a founding teacher along with Christjohn at the Oneida Nation Turtle School. They worked with other elder speakers over 35 years to compile a dictionary with the help of a Yale-trained linguist, Cliff Abbott.

“We were trying to train a core of Oneidas who had enough ability in the language to teach it to kindergarten and first and second grades,” Abbott said.

Building on a Depression-era Works Progress Administration project to document the language, in which many grandparents and great-grandparents of Oneida families participated, the dictionary grew to 34,000 words. When it was published in 1996 there were between 25 and 30 Oneida speakers living, though many would pass away in the next few years, including Christjohn. Hinton continued working.

“Maria was one of the people who noticed that when people came to her and tried out their Oneida, their pronunciation was often terrible,” Abbott said. “I pointed out to her that the only way to prevent that was if they had a model, and we started the project of her recording the entire dictionary.”

Courtesy of the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay Elder language teacher Maria Hinton recorded the Oneida Dictionary with help from the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay. Her recordings, available online, will help future generations learn how to properly pronounce the Oneida language.

The dictionary in Hinton’s voice can be heard on the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay website here. The database is searchable with English words.
Hill said Hinton’s gift is being a teacher to generations of Oneida learners.

“The woman has an infinite acceptance of people trying to acquire the language,” Hill said. “She is a quiet woman but very expressive. She has a lovely motherly way of generating trust and gaining acceptance. She brings the trust level down to where you are.”

Thompson said what Oneida students long for today is to be able to hear two Oneida speakers flow in conversation together. But with less than a handful of first-language speakers left at the Oneida Nation in Wisconsin there are fewer opportunities. Thompson said she persists in her own efforts because “the Oneida language makes my heart feel good.”

Hinton, who personally received her Prism Award from the National Museum of the American Indian at the National Indian Education Association in Milwaukee last fall, is still talking about the high school students who spoke Oneida, and sang and danced in her honor.

She remembers thinking, “Everything around us is Oneida.”

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By Kara Briggs
American Indian News Service

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Courtesy of Wes Studi

On Dec. 18, the Cherokee film actor will bring just such a role to life in a new 3-D sci-fi thriller by “Titantic” director James Cameron. In “Avatar,” the people of Earth seek to exploit the natural resources of a distant planet, stirring its inhabitants to stand up against the invasion. Studi’s computer-generated character a father who helps lead the resistance.

Studi, who has appeared in scores of films and television productions, was recently honored by the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian’s Native Achievers Series. A 61-year-old Vietnam veteran, Studi has been called a Cherokee traditionalist and honored for his work in Native language preservation, particularly the Cherokee language.

To kick off the Native Achievers Series at the museum in Washington, Studi sat down with N. Bird Runningwater of the Sundance Institute for a wide-ranging public conversation. He discussed his roots, how he taps the emotions of injustice to portray warriors in film, and how keeping Native languages alive requires a tongue willing to take chances.

Runningwater: You grew up on your grandparents’ allotment.

Studi: Nofire Hollow was a real hollow, not a post office, not a town. You people from the South know what a hollow is. Nofire Hollow is what it’s been known after allotments were issued to Cherokee citizens. 160 acres. My grandfather and grandmother and their kids lived in the Hollow. It was ours. We had gardens and water running through the hollow. Before then, it was known as Nickel Jack, but it lost its meaning over time. It’s between Tahlequah and Stillwell, Okla.

Runningwater: Boarding school was a part of your upbringing. How old were you when you left home for the first time?

Studi: I guess I should stop blaming my aunt for sending me off to an orphanage. She convinced my mother and everyone else that I would get a better education living there and going to public school. That’s where I learned English within nine months. It was enough to pass first grade. When I went home I discovered, oh wow, I couldn’t speak Cherokee anymore. A little English-speaking boy in a Cherokee home, where everyone was adamant that we speak Cherokee. I managed to learn the Cherokee language again.

I went to Chilocco Indian School from ’60 to ’64. I went there not because I was whisked away. I went there by choice because my dad had gone there. I thought, now I can move away from my mom’s beans and cornbread to what we called white bread, Wonder Bread, at Chilocco.

Up to this point I only knew there were Cherokees and Creeks and, my God, there were so many kinds of Indians at that school. It probably had a population of 1,500 Indians. We were part of that Chilocco civilized tribe. We didn’t ride horses and we dressed like white folks. I wanted in time to identify with my Cheyenne brothers, my plains brothers. In all the pictures of us, we were dressed in colonial-wear.

Runningwater: My parents went to Chilocco also. That’s why I’m mixed. And they remember you. So in your early adult years what was your experience of cinema?

Studi: In the 1970s, we only had the late Will Sampson (who was Muscogee Creek, best known for his role in “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”) and Chief Dan George (of the Tsleil-waututh Nation, best known for his role in “Little Big Man”) who were in acting. Unfortunately, in the early 1980s David Carradine played Black Elk. These guys were being cast as Native American. Some people started going, really, these Indian actors can do it. Then “Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull’s History Lesson” (1976) with Paul Newman came out. (Frank Kaquitts, a white actor, played Sitting Bull.) It was directed by Robert Altman. I’d seen the play and went to see the film. (He shakes his head in disapproval.)  There were other films that sought to portray us in a different light in the late 1970s and early 1980s. But many were appalled that Indians wanted to play Indians.

Runningwater: You did some stage work in Oklahoma.

Studi: I went to Tulsa looking for work. I found work at the Gas Light Dinner Theater. It paid $12 per night and all you could eat. One weekend after calling bingo, a bunch of us after partying ended up in jail. I made the deal to do “The Trial of Standing Bear” (a 1988 TV movie shot at Chilocco in which Studi played Long Runner) from a jail cell. After two or three weeks’ shooting, it was over. I realized there was nothing I could do to continue acting in Northwest Oklahoma. So I went to LA. At the time an organization that Jay Silverheels (Mohawk, best known for playing Tonto) and Will Sampson put together sent us to agents who looked for work for people. It didn’t enter my head that I could get paid for this. After a year and a half, I got “Powwow Highway.”

Runningwater: It’s such an iconic film, especially for Native audiences. After that you went on to do an obscure film called “Dances With Wolves.”

Studi: I had my doubts about that film. It’s not my first Western, but it felt to me as if it might not work. I wasn’t part of the Lakota Party. I played a Pawnee. It was almost therapeutic how easy it is to get into that mindset of warrior-ism. (He lets out a high-pitched screech.) You kind of think of the injustice Indian people lived through. It’s pretty easy to draw from the kind of feeling. You have a completely different aggression than the white folks.

When the movie opened, I worked in a store across the street. “Dances With Wolves” had a process of growing its audience. Day by day, lines kept getting longer. I’d already spent my money I made from “Dances With Wolves,” and I’m across the street from the theater trying to sell bracelets in a jewelry store. I’d say, “Wow, that looks good on you, really good.”

Runningwater: In “The Last of the Mohicans” you speak a language that isn’t your own. How did you approach that language?

Studi: It’s phonetic. Languages do that; they change with the lift of the voice. Because I do speak another tongue besides English, my tongue is more willing to take chances. I know I am not going to speak perfectly. For languages to continue to be learned, people are going to have to take a chance, and the people listening are going to have to be tolerant. If languages are going to go on they are going to have to be part of the present.

Runningwater: In “We Shall Remain: Trail of Tears” you actually played someone from your own tribe; you played Major Ridge, a prosperous Cherokee landowner who argued for giving up the Cherokee homeland and relocating, actions that would leader to the Trail of Tears.

Studi: Unfortunately, I got to play a fellow who in my mind and other people’s minds was a villain. I had always known one side of the story. This opened my eyes to the actual decisions that had to be made.

Runningwater: You’ve appeared in more than 60 films and television shows. You’ve played a bingo caller, a warrior, historic leaders, a fireman, a detective and even a superhero in “Mystery Men.”

Studi: For “Mystery Men,” I walked in and said, “You must fight like the wolf pack, not like the superhero.” It made the audition team laugh. I have even made it to outer space in “Avatar” (to be released Dec. 18), a James Cameron film about inhabitants of another planet. My skin is a different color, and we speak a made-up language.

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Wes Studi’s comments were transcribed live and N. Bird Runningwater’s questions were paraphrased by permission. The American Indian News Service is produced for the National Museum of the American Indian by journalist Kara Briggs, Yakama/Snohomish. All content is free to publish or post. Email her at editor@americanindiannews.org. Visit the American Indian News Service at www.americanindiannews.org.

Courtesy of the National Museum of the American Indian A Walla Walla bag, made about 1915 of seed beads, wool, canvas, hide and cotton thread, is on display in "A Song for the Horse Nation" at the Smithsonian's National Museum of the American Indian in New York City.

The exhibition celebrates the relationship between American Indians and horses, featuring 98 elaborate examples that include horse trappings, objects with horse motifs and new works specially commissioned for the show. Originally indigenous to the Americas, the horse had become extinct before being reintroduced to the Western Hemisphere by way of European ships in the 15^th century. The exhibition revolves around the return of what some Native peoples call the Horse Nation, a great ally to the Native nations.

“Even though the pinnacle of the horse lasted only a century, this exhibition details how Native people rapidly integrated the horse into their lifeways, quickly becoming among the best mounted soldiers in the world,” said National Museum of the American Indian Director Kevin Gover, who is Pawnee.

The online exhibition, www.AmericanIndian.si.edu/exhibitions/horsenation, shares the script with the actual one, offering photos of many objects on display at the museum. Web viewers who live far away from the museums in Washington, D.C., and New York get a chance to share the experience in real time thanks to the online version’s simultaneous launch.

“It’s a comprehensive representation of the gallery exhibition that will grow in time to include additional educational resources and incorporate more interactive elements that might not be possible in the physical exhibition,” said Jason Wigfield, a web developer for the museum. “It’s a good opportunity for people, who, geographically speaking, may not be able to make it to the museum. And in addition to that, it’s accessible anytime and for long after the exhibition closes.

“This online exhibition is a great resource for teachers, parents, and anyone interested in exploring this topic.”

Interactive features, such as the opportunity to hear the word for “horse” in several Native languages through the computer, are a natural on the Web. Both the online exhibition and the one in New York provide recordings for the following languages: in Assiniboine, thongatch-shonga or sho-a-thin-ga (“big dog”); in A’aninin (Gros Ventre), it-shuma-shunga (“red dog”); in Lakota, Sunkakhan (“holy dog” or “mystery dog”); in Siksika of the Blackfoot, ponoka-mita (“elk dog”); in Cree, mistatim (“big dog”).

The exhibition uses video, images and commissioned artwork to carry the story of American Indians’ relationship with the horse into contemporary times.

“A Song for the Horse Nation” will be on view at the museum in New York until July 7, 2011. It is scheduled to reopen at the museum in Washington, D.C., in October 2011 and run through January 2013, followed by a national tour.

If you can’t wait for a chance to see it in person, visit www.AmericanIndian.si.edu/exhibitions/horsenation to view it from home or classroom.

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By Kara Briggs, American Indian News Service

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