Alaska Native Arts & Culture

This is Tongass Voices, a series from KTOO sharing weekly perspectives from the homelands of the Áak’w Kwáan and beyond.

Last week we heard from Master Carver Wayne Price, who’s currently carving a dugout canoe — or yaakw – in Juneau. Today, we’re hearing from one of the apprentices working alongside him.

Skaydu.û Jules first started learning from Price in Angoon a few years ago. They were working on the first dugout to be carved there since the village was bombarded in 1882.

Jules is from Teslin, in Canada’s Yukon Territory. She now lives in Juneau, where she’s training to become a Lingít language teacher and hopes to one day help carve a canoe solely speaking Lingít. Price said it’s amazing to hear her bringing language back to the practice of carving.

This transcript has been lightly edited for clarity.

Skaydu.û Jules: Yoo x̱at duwasáakw Skaydu.û. They call me Skaydu.û, and I’m a carving apprentice under Wayne Price. And he says I’m the language person. 

The last project in Angoon was shorter spurts here and there, when I could go over and volunteer my time.

And then ever since then, Wayne has said, because I got had the experience to go on a few journeys with him, like across the Salish Sea and through Tribal Journey, that it was time to do a dugout from bark to boat launch, which is the whole process from the log, and being able to see it all through.

And so this experience has been really full and like holistic, with so many of the teachings that I never learned from doing the whole process last time. 

I was brought into carving, probably by Wayne, mostly. Yeah, I when I came here, I moved here to go to school and learn Lingít at University of Alaska Southeast, and learned a lot from Heather Burge and X̱’unei Lance Twitchell. 

And from there, I had the experience to take a few carving classes and then a domino effect to really starting in these bigger healing projects with Wayne as my teacher mentor, my uncle, Lingít way. So it’s been a really amazing experience, and really like healing to a lot of my spirit being here. 

It’s really hard to describe it. It can really feel like a sense of really putting the community above the individual, like when you come here, you’re part of a family, and not just the people who are here on this earth, but our Haa Shuka [ancestors] are the ones who came before us, and we’re doing this for our future generation of people, so they have this teaching, and we could pass on this teaching and learn this knowledge from Wayne.

So being able to practice this and all these chips represent a lot of our people who are struggling from drugs and alcohol and mental health, and to be able to be a part of something like this is just really makes the heart full, because I know that for my own experience, it has done a lot for me and has saved my life in a lot of ways. 

I’m actually going to school to be a Lingít language teacher, and it’s a big part of my goal to do land-based teaching. So what that’ll look like is, you know, eventually, bringing a bunch of people out and doing this all in the language. So it’ll be a few years til that happens, but I’ll be done with school this year, and then we’re working on translating a lot of this knowledge into Lingít so we could start teaching our younger generations. 

The invitation is that it’s not like a closed-off group, like it’s we’re always welcome to share these teachings of the healing powers of dugouts and Wayne invites you know everyone, if they have somebody who’s struggling or they know somebody that really needs help, that they can come write their family members name down on a wood chip. And then when we do our ceremony of steaming open, the dug up will be burning those wood chips in honor of all those people who need that extra support and this healing energy. 

For years, the regulations about who could hunt sea otters in Alaska were confusing. Many thought hunters must be at least one-quarter Alaska Native and belong to a coastal tribe. But a recent opinion from the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service confirms that any coastal tribal member can hunt sea otters, no matter their blood quantum.

The Central Council of Tlingit & Haida Indian Tribes of Alaska, the regional tribe of Southeast, led a workshop on processing sea otters at the Elders and Youth Conference in Anchorage in October.

At the event, dozens of people gathered around long tables covered in plastic in the Dena’ina Convention Center. Most are youth, but there are elders, too. They’re here to learn how to clean and process sea otter pelts, a fur traditionally prized for its warmth.

“Sea otters have up to a million hairs per square inch,” said Kootink Heather Douville. “They’re the most densely furred mammal on the planet.”

Douville hunts sea otters from her home in Craig on Prince of Wales Island. She sews all kinds of things with the pelts like hats, scarves, purses, and blankets. Several people are waiting at her table, eager to learn how to skin an otter with a knife.

“The word for knife in Lingít is lítaa,” Douville said.

Sea otters are protected under the federal Marine Mammal Protection Act. Who can hunt them has long been questioned by the Central Council of Tlingit and Haida Indian Tribes of Alaska. About a year ago, the Tlingit & Haida asked the federal government for another legal opinion of the law language, focused on one word in the statute.

“There’s actually an ‘or’ in the regulation,” said Gooch Xaay Ralph Wolfe, Tlingit & Haida’s director of Indigenous Stewardship.

He said the law actually allows sea otter hunting by people who live on the coast and are a quarter Native — or are an enrolled member of a coastal tribe.

“There’s people who cannot hunt and haven’t been able to hunt because they don’t have a quarter-blood quantum,” Wolfe said. “And our argument for that is there’s no other people in the world who are justified by blood quantum. There’s horses and dogs, and we are neither.”

Blood quantum requirements have increasingly been scoffed at by tribes who say they know who is and who isn’t a tribal member without needing to prove it with blood. The U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service clarified the sea otter regulation language in early October in a letter sent to Richard Peterson, the president of Tlingit & Haida. That followed a request by the tribe for co-management – so the tribe and the federal government would share responsibilities for conserving the species.

Scientists agree that Southeast Alaska’s sea otter population has increased, with the region hosting more than 22,000 of the voracious shellfish eaters. Wolfe said the population has dramatically increased in recent years, in part, due to lack of hunting.

“The otters have been devastating populations of resources that we rely on for so long now; in the management that it’s been under is kind of a management of terror, right?” said Wolfe. “Like there’s fear that’s put out there to go out and hunt these things.”

At the sea otter workshop, attendees were from all over the state.

Ten-year-old Leona Richardson is Inupiaq and took a turn with the knife. Her family is from Ambler in northwest Alaska but she lives in Anchorage.

“I just want to know what it feels like cutting an animal,” Richardson said. “And some Native people that I’m friends with, they said, just touching the animal just makes you feel more Indigenous to your culture, and I really liked it.”

Twelve-year-old Alissa Levit also had a go. She’s from Venetie, north of Fairbanks.

“I think it was pretty fun; it was very interesting,” Levit said. “I’ve done skinning with moose and caribou legs before, but this one was more fun than that.”

Although she didn’t go into the implications of the new ruling in her workshop, leader Kootink Heather Douville clearly sees a benefit in sharing sea otter processing with kids from outside her tribe.

“I think youth are sacred, and I’m so glad that so many showed up,” she said.

Douville said youth are the link between past generations and those to come.

“In our culture, and I believe, that our youth are the insurance that we have a bright, healthy future,” Douville said. “And we should invest in our youth, teach them what we know, have them here beside us, watching and working on our traditional foods and materials with us, and it gives them purpose.”

Now, these youth can take their newly learned skills home with them. And maybe one day, they’ll be able to hunt sea otters themselves.

This is Lingít Word of the Week. Each week, we feature a Lingít word voiced by master speakers. Lingít has been spoken throughout present-day Southeast Alaska and parts of Canada for over 10,000 years.

Gunalchéesh to X̱’unei Lance Twitchell, Goldbelt Heritage Foundation and the University of Alaska Southeast for sharing the recorded audio for this series.

This week’s word is atx̱á, or food. Listen to the audio below to learn how to say atx̱á.

The following transcript is meant to help illustrate the words and sentences. 

Kaxwaan Éesh George Davis: atx̱á

That means food.

Here are some sentences:

Kaxwaan Éesh George Davis: Hoon daakahídi dax̱ atx̱á aawa.óow.

He bought food from the store.

Keiyishí Bessie Cooley: Atx̱á du yaagú yeedé yaa akanjél.

They are carrying the food to their canoe.

Keihéenák’w John Martin: Shayadihéin áyá haa atx̱aayí

Our food is plentiful.

Ḵaakal.áat Florence Marks Sheakley: Lingít atx̱á haa ee yakéi.

Lingít food is good for us.

You can hear each installment of Lingít Word of the Week on the radio throughout the week. 

Additional resources: 

Find biographies for the master speakers included in this lesson here.

Learn more about why we use Lingít instead of Tlingit here.

Watch a video introducing Lingít sounds here.

This is Tongass Voices, a series from KTOO sharing weekly perspectives from the homelands of the Áak’w Kwáan and beyond.

Master Carver Wayne Price has carved 15 dugout canoes, and he’s been instrumental in bringing the art of carving boats back to Lingít people.

Now, he’s working on a dugout canoe — or yaakw — for Goldbelt Heritage Foundation in Juneau.

Several carving students and apprentices are working alongside him under a big tent in Lemon Creek, using adzes to chip away at the inside of the dugout. 

For some of them, it’s their first time. Price carved his first canoe about four decades ago. 

This transcript has been lightly edited for clarity.

Wayne Price: When I first finished that one, we threw it in the water, and I paddled from Skagway to Chilkoot, and that was in the 80s. How cool is that? You know, that’s the first dugout back in the waters in a long, long, long, long time. You know, I was just young and ignorant and dumb, just jumped in and took off, and we made it. We happened to make it. 

That was the beginning of bringing dugouts back to our communities where they belong, where people have a chance to use it.

My name is Wayne G. Price. My Lingít name is Kaajis.yoodzi.áxk. I come from the village of Kake, Alaska on my mom’s side, and Klukwan on my dad’s side.

We have a pretty select crew, and they worked real hard, through — no matter how windy, tarps blown away, pouring down rain. We kept going.

Everything we’re doing is a tribute to the ancestral heritage that we’re trying to keep alive. 

You got to imagine 40 to 60 dugouts in front of each community, all up and down the coast, all made out of a tree. The Northwest Coast is famous for ocean-going dugouts, and that’s a tough, tough pair of shoes to fill. 

And you know, because a lot of people can claim to make a dugout, you also have to make it safe, because your kids are going to be in there, your wife’s going to be in there, your husband will be in there. 

I never had a mentor, and everything I’ve learned is by repetition. And I’m still learning. You know, this is my 16th dugout, and I’m still learning. You still learn this and that about each individual dugout.

And that’s with my apprentices, they’re all going to be next. They’re going to be next. When you look for a dugout to be built, you’re going to be looking in their direction, and they’re going to know. They’re going to have all the knowledge that it takes to be able to successfully put a yaakw on the water, safely.

They’re learning. They’re learning every step of the way. And I’m very proud of them. They’re doing a fantastic job. I look forward to in the future that we could have several yaakws in every village again.

What a good time that’s going to be. 

Working on my 16th dugout. Nine of them are still in the water, being used today, all over in the Yukon and then Southeast Alaska. I’m the only one that can say that. 

Nothing easy about a dugout. It’s hard work. It’s hard work making them. It’s hard work making them float. It’s hard work to keep people safe. It’s hard work outfitting them and pulling.

All I’m doing is trying to accomplish what’s been done for time immemorial. So I’m just trying to match what has already been done. I don’t know who figured it out first. I’d like to meet him someday. 

This is Lingít Word of the Week. Each week, we feature a Lingít word voiced by master speakers. Lingít has been spoken throughout present-day Southeast Alaska and parts of Canada for over 10,000 years.

Gunalchéesh to X̱’unei Lance Twitchell, Goldbelt Heritage Foundation and the University of Alaska Southeast for sharing the recorded audio for this series.

This week’s word is dóosh, or cat. Listen to the audio below to learn how to say dóosh.

The following transcript is meant to help illustrate the words and sentences. 

Ḵaakal.áat Florence Marks Sheakley: dóosh. 

That means cat.

Here are some sentences:

Ḵaakal.áat Florence Marks Sheakley: Tlél haa ádi áyá yá dóosh.

This cat here is not ours.

Keihéenák’w John Martin: Lingít tsu, a dóosh has du jee yei yatee.

Lingít also have cats.

Keiyishí Bessie Cooley: Deix̱ dóosh yóoxʼ has ḵuligaaw

Two cats are fighting way over there.

Kaxwaan Éesh George Davis: Dóosh shí akadlaakw. 

The cat scratched his face.

You can hear each installment of Lingít Word of the Week on the radio throughout the week. 

Find biographies for the master speakers included in this lesson here.

Learn more about why we use Lingít instead of Tlingit here.

This is Lingít Word of the Week. Each week, we feature a Lingít word voiced by master speakers. Lingít has been spoken throughout present-day Southeast Alaska and parts of Canada for over 10,000 years.

Gunalchéesh to X̱’unei Lance Twitchell, Goldbelt Heritage Foundation and the University of Alaska Southeast for sharing the recorded audio for this series.

This week’s word is x̱áay, or yellow cedar. Listen to the audio below to learn how to say x̱áay.

The following transcript is meant to help illustrate the words and sentences. 

Keiyishí Bessie Coolie: x̱áay. 

That means yellow cedar.

Here are some sentences:

Keiyishí Bessie Cooley: X̱áay tín shál amliyéx̱

They made a spoon with yellow cedar

Keihéenák’w John Martin: Lingít tsú átx̱ has alyeix̱ wé saa has du shagóon x̱áay hít.

The Lingít also use that name, it is their origin, Yellow Cedar House. 

Kooshdáakʼu Bill Fawcett: Ḵúnáx̱ x̱ʼalitseeni át áwé kootéeyaa x̱áay kootéeyaa sákw. 

Yellow cedar is really valuable, it will become a totem pole.

Ḵaakal.áat Florence Marks Sheakley: Kootéeyaa aan yéi daadunéi yá x̱áay.

People work on yellow cedar for totem poles.

Kaxwaan Éesh George Davis: X̱áay dáx̱ dulyéx nuch.

It is always made from yellow cedar.

You can hear each installment of Lingít Word of the Week on the radio throughout the week. 

Find biographies for the master speakers included in this lesson here.

Learn more about why we use Lingít instead of Tlingit here.