The path I took was far from straightforward, and my experience is not a road map. I certainly learned more about the Sviatoi Nikolai incident. But I also learned:
•Indigenous people are constantly asked for review, input, and opinion on agendas that are set by outsiders (like me).
•No one person should be put in a position in which she has to speak for an entire community.
•Asking for permission in a colonial context puts a burden on the Indigenous person you’re asking.
•I had to consider that the people I was asking might have more pressing things to do with their limited time.
•Some questions might be painful to answer.
•Some questions where the answers are not known might be equally painful.
I let these lessons inform my approach and tried to remember to go gently. White settlers must no longer allow Indigenous peoples and communities to carry the burden of fighting against harmful colonial practices alone. The path we must share is necessary, urgent, and inevitable, but how we’re going to walk it has yet to be determined. Writing this book has helped me on my own path to decolonization, and for that I am grateful.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I’m deeply indebted to Kenneth N. Owens and Alton S. Donnelly for their book, The Wreck of the Sv. Nikolai, which contains the original accounts of Russian fur trader Timofei Osipovich Tarakanov and Quileute elder Ben Hobucket.
I’m also indebted to the Olympic Peninsula Intertribal Cultural Advisory Committee and Jacilee Wray, editor of Native Peoples of the Olympic Peninsula; Charlotte Cote, author of Spirits of Our Whaling Ancestors; Joshua Reid, author of The Sea is My Country: The Maritime World of the Makahs; Hilary Stewart, who annotated and illustrated an edition of The Adventures and Sufferings of John R. Jewitt: Captive of Maquinna; Erna Gunther, author of Ethnobotany of Western Washington: The Knowledge and Use of Indigenous Plants by Native Americans; Ruth Kirk, author of Ozette: Excavating a Makah Whaling Village; and Linda Ivanits, author of Russian Folk Belief.
The Makah Cultural and Research Center in Neah Bay, otherwise known as the Makah Museum, contains many valuable treasures that show some of what life was like for the Makahs before contact with the Europeans. I enjoyed every minute I spent there and encourage others to visit this gorgeous and eye-opening facility. Thanks to Janine Ledford, the centre’s executive director, and to the Makah Language Program team for patiently and thoroughly assisting with both language and culture. eko· ! eko· !
Gracious thanks to the Quileute Tribal Council who responded positively to my project. Through tribal publicist Jackie Jacobs, I was blessed to spend many hours with Jay Powell and Vickie Jensen with whom the Quileute elders have entrusted much of their language and cultural teachings. I’m grateful for the extensive reference materials they provided, the translations, advice, and their willingness to discuss their work and their lives.
Warm thanks to Hoh elder Viola Riebe for sharing her memories of growing up in the Hoh River area and offering sage advice that informed the passages in this book that are set among the Chalats, now known as the Hoh or the Hoh River people.
I’m grateful for all the time I spent in La Push and Neah Bay. These were quiet visits, sometimes with my son, sometimes alone, when I experienced the warm hospitality of the community during Makah Days and Quileute Days and was invited to share salmon, watch games, listen to music, see the dancers, and thrill to some of the best fireworks displays I’ve seen in my life. In winter, I trekked the trails to Cape Flattery, to Tsoo-Yess Beach, to Rialto, First and Second Beach, and to the site of the Sviatoi Nikolai Memorial, completed during the writing of this book, to get a sense of what Anna might have seen and felt in the days after the shipwreck.
In Sitka, Alaska, I would like to thank Hayley Chambers, then-curator of the Sitka Historical Society and Museum, and Jackie Hamburg of the Sheldon Jackson Museum.
I’d like to thank the Maritime Museum of British Columbia for giving me my first hands-on experience of a sea otter pelt. I’d searched high and low only to unexpectedly discover several hanging on the wall in the old museum in Bastion Square in Victoria, BC.
My team of early readers graciously ploughed through my first draft, and their suggestions improved the text in many ways. Thank you, Susan Gee, Rita Parikh, and Meg Walker, for your courage and wisdom.
Taryn Boyd, publisher at Brindle & Glass, has been behind this project for much longer than anyone could imagine. She also critiqued an early draft and over coffee we spent many hours discussing not only the novel and my struggles, but also cultural appropriation, truth and reconciliation, the too-often overlooked work of Indigenous novelists in Canada (two thumbs up for Ruby Slipperjack), and our own family histories. Our discussions gave extra dimensions to the text, and I thank her for encouraging me to go deeper.
Thanks to Claire Mulligan, my extraordinary editor, who helped steer this novel in a direction that’s true—in so many senses of the word.
It’s been a joy to work with Tori Elliott, Colin Parks, Renée Layberry, and the rest of the team at Brindle & Glass. Warm thanks to Tree Abraham for the creative genius that generated the book’s cover and Kate Kennedy for her sharp eyes.
The Canada Council for the Arts and the BC Arts Council both generously provided funding during the writing of this project. This funding allowed me to travel to Neah Bay, La Push, and Seattle, Washington, Sitka, Alaska, and Vancouver, BC. Moreover, it gave me the time and space to be able to research and write.
Thank you to D. M. Thomas for his kind permission to quote the lines from “You Will Hear Thunder” that appear in the epigraph. That poem is published in his collected translations of the poetry of Anna Akhmatova, titled You Will Hear Thunder.
Thank you also to Kerry Tymchuk of the Oregon Historical Society for kind permission to quote or paraphrase certain passages from The Wreck of the Sv. Nikolai, edited and with an introduction by Kenneth N. Owens, translated by Alton S. Donnelly. These brief passages appear on pages vii, 32, 49, 58-60, 154-155, and 219-221 in the text. Deep thanks to Sally Owens who, under particularly difficult circumstances, facilitated this permission.
There are many others who offered encouragement, meals, drinks, rides, roofs, books and articles, advice and sympathy, and put up with my obsession. Know that you are in my heart, and I thank you for your contribution. Any errors in the book are my responsibility and not those of the people who’ve touched this project over the years.
ENDNOTES
1.Vasilii Mikhailovich Golovnin (English translation by Alton S. Donnelly), The Wreck of the Sv. Nikolai, “The Narrative of Timofei Tarakanov” (Lincoln, Nebraska, University of Nebraska Press, 2001), 59.
2.Anna Akhmatova (English translation by D.M. Thomas), You Will Hear Thunder: Poems by Anna Akhmatova, “You Will Hear Thunder” (Athens, Ohio, Ohio University Press, 1985), 86.
3.Armstrong, J., Gatherings of the En’Owkin Journal of First North American Peoples, 1(1) “The Disempowerment of First North American Native Peoples and Empowerment through Their Writing” (Penticton, BC, Theytus Books, 1990) 141.
NOTES ON LANGUAGE AND GLOSSARY
Long before Europeans came to the shores of the Olympic Peninsula, there was active trade up and down the coast. There was also a lot of movement of people through, for example, frequent and widespread socializing, marriage, sharing of songs, and the movement of prisoners and slaves.
There were (and are) also dozens of languages. These are not simply dialects of one common language. The Makah language is very distinct from what is spoken by the Quileutes and Hoh. Thus, it is widely accepted that many coastal Indigenous people were (and are) bilingual, if not multilingual. Children of exogamous marriages were raised speaking both their mother’s and father’s languages.
Fur traders such as Timofei Tarakanov often used this multilingualism to their advantage. By learning a few words of one coastal language, they were able to make themselves understood. There were reportedly various lists of “Nootkan” wor
ds published in Europe and shared among the European traders starting from the visit of Captain James Cook to the Pacific coast in 1778.
This is different from what we know today as Chinook Jargon. Chinook Jargon originated as a trade language that, according to anthropologist Dr. Jay Powell, did not develop until after the arrival of J.J. Astor’s traders in the lower Columbia River in 1812—a few years after Anna’s time. Chinook Jargon has deep roots in the coastal Indigenous trade language, but includes contributions from French and English.
During her time on the coast, Anna dealt with language in this multifaceted context.
A couple of notes on the Russian language: adding ‘i’ to the end of a Russian noun makes it plural; and, Russian naming conventions are used throughout the novel. Anna is known as Madame Bulygina, Anna Petrovna, Anya, and Annichka, in decreasing formality. Her husband is known as Nikolai Issakovich and Kolya, a diminutive for Nikolai.
Babathid: (Makah baba id) white people living in houses on the water
Bast: (Russian) reeds or grass
Beze: (Russian) meringue cookie
Blin: (Russian) pancake
Cache-Cache: (French) hide and seek
Chabas: (Makah čabas) sweet, tasty
Cheetoolth: (Makah ) war club
Cingatudax: (Unangam Tunuu or Aleut) yarrow. Maria would know Achillea millefolium var. borealis, but this is more likely the similar Achillea millefolium var. californica.
Dikari: (Russian) savages
Domovoi: (Russian) spirit of the house
Hamidux: (Unangam Tunuu or Aleut) yellow avens. Maria would know Geum calthifolium, but this is more likely the similar Geum macrophyllum.
Khorovod: (Russian) folk dance, a combination of circle dance and chorus
Kizhuch: (Russian, origins Inuktitut) Coho salmon
Kluchab: (Makah ) large mussel
Klush: (Nuu-chah-nulth) good, pretty
Koliuzhi: (Russian) Indigenous people. This word originates from the Sugpiaq-Alutiiq word “kulut’ruaq,” which means wooden dish. The Russians derogatorily used it because of the practice of some Indigenous Alutiiq women of putting a wooden labret in their pierced lower lip.
Korolki: (Russian) blue glass trading beads
Kotel: (Russian) kettle
Kvass: (Russian) a fermented beverage, usually made from bread. The Russians used other ingredients while in Russian America, such as wild celery or various berries.
Lamestin: (Chinook Jargon) medicine
Leshii: (Russian) spirit of the forest
Makee: (Russian) poppy seeds
Makuk: (Nuu-chah-nulth) buy, trade
Pahchitl: (Nuu-chah-nulth, Jewitt’s list of Nootkan words) to give. The word “potlatch” originates from this word.
Prikashchik: (Russian) supercargo
Promyshlennik: (Russian) fur trader
Putchki: (Russian origins, but widely used in English) cow parsnip. Heracleum lanatum.
Quartlack: (Jewitt’s list of Nootkan words) sea otter
Reindeer: (English) Russians use the word “elk” to describe what Canadians know as moose. Anna would never have seen a Roosevelt elk, and would most likely have confused it with a reindeer.
Rusalka: (Russian) spirit of the ponds
Ryba: (Russian) fish
Sazhen: (Russian) 1.76 metres, using makhovaya sazhen or swung sazhen
Shchi: (Russian) cabbage soup
Sviatoi: (Russian, abbreviation Sv.) saint
Too-te-yoo-hannis Yoo-ett: (Makah) John Jewitt
Toyon: (Yakut) chief. This word was brought from northeastern Siberia by the Russians and used when referring to leaders of the Unangan, Alutiiq, Tlingit, and subsequently, other Indigenous groups.
Ukha: (Russian) fish soup or stew
(Makah) thank you. A personal thank you for something someone has done for you. There is a slightly different word for thanking a group, and an entirely different word for a public thank you.
Verst: (Russian) around 1 kilometre (sing. versta)
Vodyanoy: (Russian) old spirit man of the sea
Wacush: (Nuu-chah-nulth, Makah (wayke·š [also wake·š]) bravo. Applied to a task well done. Used by European anthropologists to name the language group to which the Makah belong: Wakashan.
Zaika: (Russian) bunny. Used affectionately.
Born in Toronto and raised on a farm near Tottenham, Ontario, Peggy Herring felt the first taps of love for the written word as a young girl when her grandfather gifted her with her first typewriter. This love led her to study journalism at Carleton University in Ottawa, and after graduation she embarked on a career with the CBC, which took her from the east coast of Canada to the west. With her similarly nomadic husband she traveled to Bangladesh, where she volunteered with the United Nations, and travelled throughout India. After working in Nepal, London, Dhaka, and New Delhi, Peggy and her family returned to Canada, and currently reside in Victoria, British Columbia. She is the author of This Innocent Corner (Oolichan Books, 2010), and her short fiction has been featured in a variety of publications, including Antigonish Review, New Quarterly, and Prism International. Visit her at peggyherring.ca.
Copyright © 2018 by Peggy Herring
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. For more information, contact the publisher at:
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Edited by Claire Mulligan
Cover design by Tree Abraham
Interior design by Colin Parks
LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION
Herring, Peggy, 1961-, author
Anna, like thunder : a novel / Peggy Herring.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
e-ISBN 978-1-927366-75-2.
I. Title.
PS8615.E7685A83 2018 C813'.6 C2017-906536-X C2017-906537-8
We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and of the Province of British Columbia through the British Columbia Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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