Clara Caufield: Cheyenne brothers and sisters preserve language

The following opinion by Clara Caufield appears in the latest issue of the Native Sun News. All content © Native Sun News.


Clara Caufield. Photo from Native News Project / University of Montana School of Journalism

Talking Cheyenne
By Clara Caufield

Kinship is critical to the Cheyenne, as it is to most tribal people. In addition to biological kin, we have the tradition of “adopting” relatives – that is taking a brother, sister or others on purpose.

White people often say “You can choose your friends, but not your family. “ Cheyenne disagree – we can choose our brothers and sisters and other relatives, a profound life-long obligation and gift. At the risk of offending the Cheyenne language cops, I spell two of these kinship words as they sound to me: Navasin (brother-friend) and Navasit (sister-friend).

I am very fortunate to have several Navasins and Navasits, who are very indulgent language coaches. A main Navisit is Priscilla Tallbull, Buffalo Wallowing Woman, a former Cheyenne language teacher at Northern Cheyenne Tribal Schools and a Navasin is Collins Littlewhiteman, Red Antelope, a cowboy if there ever was one.

They are very patient, recalling their own struggles as young children learning to speak English. Priscilla, in particular recognizes that repetition and daily practice are the primary methods to learn a new language.

I can converse in several languages: English, German and some Spanish, but learning Cheyenne, to me, is much more difficult. While there are several Cheyenne dictionaries, and classes at the college, I find the method of writing difficult to comprehend, the word order in sentences is different from English and there are only a few fluent Cheyenne speakers to practice with.

The classes are very useful, but as Priscilla says, daily conversation with a patent speaker is critical in order to become fluent. The best way for me to learn seems to be one-on-one conversation, focusing on useful words and phrases used in daily life. Now, I can carry on limited conversation, but am still not fluent. When I recently wondered if it was even worth the effort at my age, she adamantly said “Yes. You will need it on the other side.” (This is motivation!)


A sign at Chief Dull Knife College in Lame Deer, Montana. Photo from Facebook

Recently, Dr. Richard Littlebear, President of Chief Dull Knife College, an acknowledged champion of Cheyenne language preservation conducted a Cheyenne literacy class at the college, attended by 20 people, record number. During that class, the certified language instructors reviewed the tribal enrollment of 11,600 members. According to their estimate, there are slightly more than 550 fluent Cheyenne speakers; about another 350 who can understand the language but do not speak fluently, and 47 fluent speakers have recently gone on to the “next camp.” The great majority of speakers are older people.

It is my good fortune to associate with fluent speakers, including Dr. Littlebear, Winfield Russell, tribal vice-president and the ladies lunch bunch at the elderly program who are very patient and encouraging. Practice makes perfect, but the differences in some words are very subtle, thus it is easy to make a major gaff. For example, the word for salt (white rocks) with a very slight difference in tone can mean “White excrement.” Not a good mistake, especially at the dinner table.

Recently, Buffalo Wallowing Woman, Red Antelope and I (Teeth Woman) spent an enjoyable evening together, and as always, a major topic of conversation was the Cheyenne language. They shared their earliest memories of learning to speak English. Buffalo Wallowing Woman, the carrier of a very old and venerated Cheyenne name only knew herself that way in the first grade.

At that time, she and her small friends only spoke Cheyenne. She keenly remembers that the first English sentence she learned, by dire necessity, had eight syllables, which is why she often coaches me to remember the number of syllables in Cheyenne words or phrases. “Teacher, may I use the restroom?” Some of her classmates, who did not as quickly learn this sentence were shamed when they soiled themselves in the classroom. “I felt so bad for them,” she remembers.

Collins, who was actually born in a tent in Birney, a remote reservation village, told about being in the first grade at Lame Deer, a Cheyenne speaker who did not know any English. Therefore, teachers decided he was mentally challenged and he was sent to the Busby Boarding School, where he painfully learned the rudiments of English. Today both he and Buffalo Wallowing Woman are very articulate in both languages, encouraged to maintain both by their parents.

Collins father, Wayne Littlewhiteman was reportedly a very intelligent fellow, thus shipped off to high school at Pine Ridge, very proud to claim Tim Giago, retired publisher of Native Sun News as his classmate and friend.

“They knew each other and struggled through that whole educational experience together,” Collins says. “But Father really missed speaking Cheyenne.”

This past week, I enjoyed a visit from old friend, Mike Hermanyhorses, an Oglala Council member from Wounded Knee. He tells that there are still fluent Cheyenne language speakers living there, descendants of the Fort Robinson massacre who have maintained their language, specifically mentioning the Littlewhiteman and Two Two families, common names here as well. As we struggle to preserve the Cheyenne language, that is encouraging news.

As Dr. Littlebear says, the acid test of fluency is the ability to carry on a conversation entirely in the Cheyenne language for more than an hour. Buffalo Wallowing Woman and Red Antelope can do this, enjoying the increasingly rare opportunity to converse with another in their beloved first language. They and others often say “it sounds better in Cheyenne.”

I can actually “catch” or comprehend most of what they are saying. The devil is in the details, but one day I aspire to join them, speaking entirely Cheyenne. Right now, they often joke and laugh about my mistakes. For example, I recently learned, to my chagrin and their great amusement, that the phrase “write it down” when mangled means a woman’s private parts.

I express appreciation to them and the many others who are so kind and patient as I bumble along. Wouldn’t it have been nice, if they had experienced that same kindness as children who were beginning to speak English?

(Clara Caufield can be reached at acheyennevoice@gmail.com)

Copyright permission Native Sun News

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