I'm thinking this evening about the Salish workshop that we attended today. LaRae Wiley and Chris Parkin transported us, I believe, with their words and music. It was stunning to hear Senior Hall fill with the sounds of LaRae's voice and the drum and--later--the sounds of the students keeping rhythm with the drum. I regretted that the building wasn't overflowing with people to hear the music but grateful that we had such an intimate gathering for the workshop.
There were many epiphanies for me in the few minutes that I could attend with the students. I know, of course, about language death and the critical need to keep dying languages spoken, but I was not prepared for the answers again and again of the number of people left who could speak each form of Salish fluenty. Always, the answer was given with one hand. I've always read about language death but never have I felt face-to-face with the reality of what this would mean to a people.
As I sat there listening to the music at the end of the workdshop, having rejoined the students, I thought about the Salish grammar they were learning about and the words that I heard them repeating after hearing from LaRae and Chris. In a few weeks we will all be thrown out to the wind, we'll return to our homes, and yet the Pathways students will each take with them a few words, a little grammar, some understanding of culture and the experience of hearing Salish--with its glottals and clicks--sung. In its own small way, this is a contribution to the movement to keep Salish alive. It feels good to be a part of that.
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