Somebodys secrets, p.10
Somebody's Secrets, page 10
He nodded. “I will listen. There has been too much pain because I did not listen in the past.”
Someone snickered. It wasn’t any of her children, thank God, Elizabeth saw. One of the cousins then, as she thought of them. Although at least one of the men in the room was actually an uncle to her children. He had helped raise the boys, in particular, to the ways of the tribe when their grandfather had rejected them as worthy of learning them. She would always be grateful.
Chapter 12
(Sitka, Alaska. early 1980s. Elizabeth’s story.)
There was a feeling of unrest in the Native community. The Native Alaskans here were Tlingit — an Indian group whose heritage was more aligned with the Indian groups of the Pacific Northwest than of the Alaska mainland, who were Inuit — Eskimos, we called them back then. But not the Tlingit. They were not Eskimos, and they were fierce about it.
They were actually a fierce tribe altogether. When the Russians established a fort here, they had to fight the Tlingit to do it. And a few years later the Tlingit came back and ran the Russians off, one of the few successful battles for the indigenous peoples in Alaska. It didn’t last. In 1792 the Russians returned, destroyed the Native village, and restored the Russian capital in Sitka.
When I came here, there were plaques about it all. One at the ferry terminal commemorated the Tlingit massacre of the Russian settlers. A second at the Russian fort site commemorated the re-establishment of the Russian settlement, ignoring of course, that the Russians had massacred the Tlingit in doing so.
In 1980, when I indignantly pointed out the racism of the plaques, people looked at me confused. They couldn’t see the problem. Ironically, we were at the height of the Cold War, and calling somebody a Russian Commie was fighting words. But our history was skewed toward the white story. Or maybe just the winners’ story. It is still skewed.
Although now, we have a small park that tells the story of the early days in Sitka with fewer biased phrases. And the center at the Totem Park has a lot of good detail. But, at least in my mind, there is still a sense among whites of why did those Indians not understand how good they had it with Russian rule? Just because their fishing was decimating the salmon, and their fur hunting... but I’m digressing.
Anyway, the renaissance of Tlingit language, stories, and culture was blossoming. They built a community center, blessed it with the old traditions. And the tribal council was stronger. Pride in your heritage does that, you know.
A focus of that strength became how rough the police were when they arrested Tlingits — usually for drinking, drunk and disorderly, fighting, and, unfortunately, domestic violence. Almost all of the crime was alcohol related.
True for the whites too. But whites were hauled home to sober up, and the Tlingit were thrown in jail and charged with resisting arrest — and sobered up to bruises and black eyes. A couple ended up in the hospital. “Resisting arrest.”
So, the Tribal Council drafted a complaint to the police chief and to the borough council. The Borough Council invited the tribal leaders to a joint meeting to discuss it.
I wasn’t there — Luke wouldn’t let me go. I think he knew there might be trouble. He was there.
The police chief showed up with six officers — most of his force at the time, I think. They stood at attention at the back door, as Chief Campbell walked up to the council, announced he was present, and then proceeded to lay down the law as he saw it.
If anyone gave his officers a hard time, they could expect the officers to use force in return, he announced. “Native Alaskans should stay in the village,” Campbell announced. “Stay out of the white part of town after you leave work. Separation will create fewer problems, and we won’t have to intervene. But make no mistake, if we do have to intervene, we will do whatever is necessary to keep law and order and to make our citizens safe.”
So many problems with that statement. It ran in the newspaper the next day. But I was particularly struck that he obviously considered only the whites on the island to be his citizens. The Tlingit would get nothing from him or his officers. Nothing but more abuse and attacks.
Campbell took no questions at the meeting. The tribal elders looked at each, and there was a restlessness in the crowd. What now? A tribal meeting would normally be a time when all views were shared, and everyone was listened to until consensus was achieved, or people agreed to think about it and return.
The council knew a borough council meeting would be different, but not this different.
Then Campbell bumped into Elder Mary George.
She fell.
The crowd was furious. One of the Georges shoved Duke as he went to help Mary. And then all hell broke out.”
Elizabeth paused. None of the men had moved. There was sorrow on the face of Luke Kitka, Sr., as he remembered that night too.
“Karin?” she said.
The young woman took a deep breath. She looked terrified of speaking to this crowd. Elizabeth started to reassure her, then remembered she had a PhD in biology and had defended a dissertation before a much more critical audience than this. She hid a smile.
Karin began, “My mother is considered a fine storyteller among the Yakama,” she began. “I will tell the story as she has told it to me. As if we were there.”
Chapter 13
(White Swan, Yakama Nation. Washington state. 1980s.)
When AIM (American Indian Movement) asked Jacob Wallace to go check out what was going on in Sitka for them, he demurred.
“Got a baby girl, here,” he said, holding her, with the phone tucked under his chin. His wife came to take her, but he shook his head. He loved to hold her. She was the future of Yakama Nation. She was his precious baby daughter. She laughed at him. He was convinced those were true laughs, even though his wife just rolled her eyes.
He refocused on the voice of the head of AIM. “If I could send anyone else I would, Jacob. But the only person anywhere near you is Andrew Solomon, Lummi. He’s too young, too hot headed to go alone. I need you to go with him.”
Dangerous to send anyone alone, Jacob thought. And it was true, Andrew was hotheaded. He grinned. They’d had some fine times together at Powwows before he’d married. Now he was a father! That had to come first.
But the future of the Native Americans was at a crossroads as well. Exciting times — dangerous times. AIM was barely recovering from the second massacre of Wounded Knee.
But they were making headway. And the Alaskan tribes might offer a way forward that didn’t involve reservations and bloodshed. He didn’t understand the intricacies of the legal grounds, but he understood that AIM needed to befriend the Alaskan Native Brotherhood. They were powerful. Primarily a labor union movement, he thought, but they’d been able to establish native corporations that received payment from the U.S. government for natural resources in a way that Indian tribes in the continental United States hadn’t.
Apparently even Washington State could learn something following a couple centuries of near-genocide, Jacob thought bitterly.
He sighed. His wife smiled. “You must do this, Jacob,” she whispered. “It’s necessary for our people. And good for you. You’re respected.”
Jacob sighed again. He handed his daughter, Karin, to his wife and reached for a notepad. “OK,” he said. “Tell me again. Why are we going to Sitka?”
Sitka was not what he expected. He expected Alaska with tundra and permafrost, and instead he got rainforest like the Olympic Peninsula, one of his favorite places to visit. Not to stay, it was too damn wet. No, he liked living in White Swan on the Yakama Rez just fine.
Sitka was lush green, rising up to snow-capped mountains even in June, and dropping off to the bay — Sitka Sound. He couldn’t stop looking.
Andrew Solomon was more into looking at the girls. Well, women. They sure as hell better be women, Jacob thought grimly, looking at his companion. They were both getting close to 30. They couldn’t be chasing after teenagers. And of course, he wouldn’t be chasing after anyone. His wife would have his ears — if he was lucky and didn’t take another body part he was quite fond of.
“We’re here representing AIM,” he told Andrew.
“Yeah, yeah. I can look, can’t I? These women are gorgeous.”
Andrew wasn’t wrong, Jacob thought. They were tall and slender with long black hair and brown skin. He looked at the older women in the village, which was just two streets down by the docks and fishing sheds. They were shorter. You saw that back home too. Better nutrition, the doctors were saying. The younger generations were growing taller. Still, the Tlingits were a tall people to begin with.
Even though it was nearly midnight by the time they reached Shee Atika, the brand-new flagship hotel of the local Native Corporation, it was still light out. Too light to see the stars.
“It’s June,” their host said, as if that explained anything.
Their host, a man named Luke Kitka, saw their confusion. “During the summer, we get maybe two hours of darkness. Of course, during the winters, it reverses — two hours of daylight.”
Luke looked at them as he set their bags inside their rooms. It was a luxury resort style hotel, truly one of the finest Jacob had ever seen. It competed with anything Seattle had to offer.
“Be sure to try the restaurant,” Luke advised when Jacob complimented the hotel. “It’s world class.”
“What’s the point?” Andrew asked.
Luke’s grin was fierce. “To prove we can. To prove that Native Alaskans can build and run a first-class hotel.”
He shrugged. “And tourism is the future of this region of Alaska,” he added. “Fishing is getting more and more controlled. The feds tell us when we can fish. Last year? The herring season was only three days. Three days!”
He paused, grinned and shrugged. “Of course, those who have permits made hundreds of thousands of dollars in those three days.”
Jacob decided he liked this man.
Luke went on, “Timber? The new environmental laws will protect the Tongass, as it needs to be protected, but there won’t be any logging in another decade or so. But tourists? Doesn’t look like we’ll ever run out of them.”
Well, this was what they’d come to learn, Jacob thought. That, and, “Alaskan Native Brotherhood?”
Luke stopped on his way out the door, but he didn’t turn back to look at them. “That you need to ask the tribal leaders tomorrow,” he said. “The ANB will want to talk to you. We’ve got some issues. They’re about to blow up. We could use your advice.”
“Thank you, Luke,” Jacob said. “You’ve been kind to us.”
Luke closed the door softly behind him.
Andrew looked at Jacob. “Explosive issues?” he said softly. “Anybody tell you anything about that?”
Jacob shook his head. He was beginning to think he shouldn’t have come.
“I heard they were negotiating a union contract with the fish packing plant. Maybe that?” Jacob asked. He headed to the bathroom for a shower.
“Maybe,” Andrew said. His voice was troubled.
The restaurant was as good as Luke had told them it was when they tried it for breakfast the next day. Most of the restaurant seemed to be windows that overlooked the Sound. It was beautiful. Yes, tourism would boom, Jacob thought.
He was pouring a last cup of coffee, when three elders walked across the restaurant floor. “Andrew,” he said softly, gesturing with his chin. Andrew looked up and nodded. They both stood up to greet the elders.
Jacob didn’t know how he knew they were tribal leaders. There was a sense of presence. It was true of his own tribe. He thought if he ever met leaders for which it wasn’t true, he would know that tribe was in trouble.
“Elders,” he said respectfully.
The three, two men and a woman, introduced themselves. Like their host the night before, the council president was named Kitka.
“Luke is your son?” Jacob asked. The man nodded but didn’t say anything else. Tension there, he thought. Family. Same everywhere.
The waitress waited until everyone was seated, then brought more coffee out, and a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls.
“Your leaders said you were here to observe and discuss ways we might partner together. And things we might learn from each other.”
Jacob just nodded. Something. They wanted something.
Mr. Kitka gathered his thoughts. Then he sighed. “We are in labor negotiations,” he said. “We are unionizing the packing sheds. There is ... resistance.”
The other two elders started laughing. And everyone relaxed.
“OK. So more than resistance. Our young men are being beaten up. We had to sue for it to go forward. It hasn’t been easy.”
Jacob frowned. “I’m not sure labor union organizing is my area of expertise,” he said.
“No, no, that we’ve got under control. The ANB has paid organizers to handle all of that, and after all this time, they’re good at it,” Luke Kitka, Sr., assured them. “I just explain so you understand why times are so tense. It’s the other thing....”
The woman, Mary George, rolled her eyes. “He will take forever to get to the point, and then you won’t be sure you understood it anyway,” she informed them. “No, we’re having problems with the police here. Some of those beatings? Were done by cops. Our young men are getting arrested and beaten in jail over a traffic stop. A couple have ended up in the hospital. The district attorney, he is a good man, but he seems to have no power to stop the police chief, Duke Campbell. The power is with the police chief. And he hates Natives.”
She took a sip of water. “So, the city council has agreed to meet with the tribal leaders to discuss the matter. Tonight. But we don’t usually have interactions with the council. We’d like for you to help us prepare. And to coach our young men on what to expect.”
Andrew looked at Jacob, who sighed. “That I do have some expertise in,” said the Jacob Wallace, police chief of White Swan, Oregon.
The strategy session took place that afternoon. In the meantime, Luke Junior was tasked with giving them the grand tour.
“What do you do?” Jacob asked as they walked through the national park where the totem poles were. It was a beautiful park and it showed.
“I’m the organizer for the language revitalization project,” he said. “Grant funded. My wife and I have been collecting stories from some of the remote villages and their elders. We’ve got a project going to have the elders teach the language to the young ones in the day care program now. We will lose the language if we don’t do something.”
“Do you speak it?” Andrew asked.
“Yes, my grandmother taught me. She learned it as a young child.”
“And your wife works with you?” Jacob pursued, intrigued.
Luke laughed. “No, she’s a professor at Sheldon Jackson College. But we collaborated to get this grant.”
“I’d like to meet her,” Jacob said.
Luke fell silent. He studied the two men for a moment. “Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps you would join us for supper before the meeting tonight?”
Jacob smiled. “We’d be honored.”
Luke hesitated, then sighed. “I’d best forewarn you,” he said, “because if you have a problem with it, I’ll take you the Sheffield House instead. My wife is white.”
Jacob frowned. “Why would that be a problem?”
He snorted. “It is here. Here it’s a big problem. You’ve met my father? He refused to come to the wedding.”
Luke shook his head. “Complicated. Not relevant. But it will be nice for Elizabeth to meet you. And second warning, we have two boys. High energy boys.”
Jacob relaxed and grinned. “I have a baby girl, Karin,” he said proudly. “Six months and she already smiles at me.”
Luke laughed. “That’s gas, man,” he said.
“Not with Karin,” Jacob bragged. “She’s going to be the future of our nation, someday. Wait and see.”
The prep session had gone well, Jacob thought. The team of presenters were knowledgeable and level-headed. His role had really been to give them confidence. Luke, Sr., had chosen good people. Mostly the younger men — although not Luke, which Jacob found interesting — but Mary George was there to lend gravitas. They would do well.
Luke then took them back to the hotel to rest, before collecting them for supper. Jacob liked Elizabeth. She was smart, loved Luke and could cook. What more would Luke, Sr., want in a daughter-in-law, anyway? He shook his head. The two boys looked like their father. Shame Luke, Sr., couldn’t accept it.
Elizabeth seemed to know what he was thinking about, and in a moment in the kitchen with just the two of them, she explained, “I don’t think it’s the case with the Yakamas,” she said. “But the Tlingit are matrilineal. So, the boys have no clan in the tribe. They have family — a lot of family,” she said, laughing. “But clan matters too, and it bothers Luke, Sr. I see you disapprove of him, and it eases something for Luke Jr., to see that too, but it’s more complicated than it looks to outsiders.”
Jacob nodded slowly. “Thank you for telling me that. I’ll try not to judge.”
She laughed. “Well, it’s complicated. And it’s also true that Luke, Sr., is set in his ways and autocratic. He truly believed his disapproval would mean my Luke would not marry me. But he loves the grandchildren, so he’s coming around.”
“Children do that,” he said, and pulled out his wallet to show her a picture of Karin.
The meeting was overflowing. The council met in the conference center. Like the hotel it was a beautiful new facility with a stage back dropped by curtains that pulled to reveal the Sitka Sound. The curtains were open, and the audience could watch boats go by and seagulls in the air. When the council filed in, the curtains closed.
