Delirium tremens in the Okanagan
A whole lotta shaking goin’ on! Hands, bodies, souls. Not to get too personal, but the following is in honour of a loved one who died in a similar way about this date some years ago.
Yes, another alcoholism document! I couldn’t resist the vividness of Father Marchal’s quotations from the Native people here (Kamloops Wawa #68, 05 March 1893, pages 38-39):
<Rev. Fath. Marchal’s letter.>
= Pir Marshal kopa
Okanagan iaka mamuk pipa kopa nsaika iaka wawa kopa ukuk pipa:
Père Marchal in the
Okanagan has written a letter to us; it says in this letter:
“Naika nanish kopa Kamlups Wawa maika tlus tomtom pus klaksta
mamuk tsim pipa kopa tilikom kopa ukuk pipa. Kakwa naika mash ukuk
pipa kopa maika. = Basil, taii kopa Hid Lik iaka mimlus kopa
Krismas. Ukuk taii kwanisim tiki tlus, wik kansih iaka tiki
lam, kwanisim iaka wawa kopa iaka tilikom pus wik klaska makmak
lam, pus klaska haha milalam. Pi wik klaska mamuk kakwa. Pus
iaka komtaks wik saia iaka mimlus, iaka mamuk chako kanawi iaka
tilikom pi iaka wawa kopa klaska: Ankati naika kwanisim ayu wawa
kopa msaika pus msaika kopit makmak lam, pus msaika kwanisim
styuil, pi wik msaika kolan. Alta naika mimlus naika klatwa mash
msaika. Nanish naika lima. Pus msaika tiki mash lam, pi iskom
styuil, tlus msaika shako iskom ukuk naika lima, pi naika mimlus
yutl tomtom. Pus wik msaika tiki kopit kopa lam pi kopa piltin,
pi wik tiki iskom styuil, kakwa Katolik, wik msaika iskom naika lima
pi naika mimlus. Kanawi iaka tilikom wawa: Tlus nsaika mash lam,
nsaika iskom styuil. Pi klaska iskom iaka lima. Krismas
sitkom pulakli kopit styuil iaka mimlus. ST mamuk klahawiam
iaka. Iaka haha milalam, iaka iskom li[k]strim oksio, pi iaka
iskom Å. Tlus kanawi tilikom komtaks iaka wawa pi klaska mamuk
kakwa iaka tomtom.
“I saw in the Kamloops Wawa that you’d like for anyone
to write letters to the [Indian] people for this newspaper. So I’m sending this
letter to you. = Basil, the chief at Head [of the] Lake [reserve], died at
Christmas. This chief always wanted the best, he never liked
alcohol, he always told his people not to drink
alcohol, [and] for them to make confession [at church]. But they didn’t. When
he realized he was about to die, he gathered all of his
people and he told them: I always used to tell
you folks and tell you folks that you should quit drinking, [and] that you should stick with
praying, but you wouldn’t listen. Now I’m dying, I’m moving on, leaving
you. See my hand. If you folks are ready to quit drinking, and to take up
praying, come shake this hand of mine, and I’ll die
happy. If you don’t want to be done with booze and with sin,
and don’t want to take up praying, like Catholics, don’t shake my hand,
and I’ll just die.[“] All of his people said: “Let’s quit drinking,
let’s start praying.” And they shook his hand. On Christmas
at midnight after prayers he died. God had mercy
on him. He had confessed, he received extreme unction, and he
took communion. Everyone should hear his words and they [should] do
as he felt.
Page 39
Alta iaka tanas Cho iaka nim iaka shako taii. Wiht iaka
sik wik saia iaka mimlus. Alta iaka lost iaka latit. Iaka
chako piltin. Tanas ilip kopa iaka chako piltin iaka mamuk shako
kanawi tilikom pi iaka wawa: Tlus a[l]ta msaika iskom kanawi
liplit iaka wawa. Mamuk kopit makmak lam, tlus kanawi msaika
haha milalam. Pus wik msaika tiki, alki msaika klahawiam.
Nanish naika wik kansih naika tiki kolan liplit, kwanisim naika
ayu makmak lam. Pi wik saia naika shako skukum klahawiam.
Chi iaka kopit wawa pi iaka lost iaka latit. Iaka chako
piltin. Ilip iaka mokst taims haha milalam.
Then his son named Joe became chief. He too
is sick, he’s near death. Now he’s lost his mind. He’s
gone crazy. A little before he went insane he gathered
all of the people and he said: “Now you folks should take all
of the priest’s words to heart. Put an end to drinking booze, you all need
to make confession. If you won’t, you’re going to be pitiful.
Look at me, I never wanted to listen to the priest, I kept on
drinking a lot. And I’m about to get awfully miserable.”
Once he finished talking he lost his mind. He went
crazy. Before that, he made confession twice.
Wiht iht hlwima man iaka nim Abil iaka shako piltin
kakwa pi iaka wawa kopa tilikom: “Liiam iaka iskom naika lima, pi
iaka hol naika kopa kikuli paia pus piii iaka makmak. Ukuk
Abil iaka mimlus alta.
Yet another man, named Abel, went crazy
like this and he told the people: “The devil has hold of my hand, and
he’s dragging me to hell to pay for his drinks.[“] This
Abil has died now.
Tlus kanawi msaika komtaks ukuk pi kanawi msaika kwash kopa
lam pi kopa kanawi masashi mamuk.
All of you folks should know about this and all of you [should] be afraid of
booze and of every kind of bad actions.
Naika Pir Marshal Naika mamuk ukuk pipa. Klahawiam kanawi.
I’m Père Marchal I wrote this letter. Goodbye everyone.
Is the significance of the handshaking a Catholic thing or a native or both? Is it a blessing or oath? Seems a bit of both, given the bare narrative.
“pus klaska haha milalam.” Can you klhosh explain this as “communion?” The word milalam is new to me, but the haha bit is especially surprising.
“Liiam” is this a regionalism for lejaub?
Anquti wext naika kumtuks man yaka iskom mimalost yaxka okok kakwa. Halo kwan, halo klhosh. Alta delet naika wext tumtum “kwash kopa lam pi kopa kanawi masashi mamuk”.
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To my knowledge the handshake is not a specially Catholic custom here. It resembles the Sign of Peace somewhat, but there’s no indication here that it’s in the context of the mass. I identify the handshaking as more of a Native expression of good will, maybe because of the emphasis I’ve seen people put on proper “Indian handshakes”. A major feature reported in Kamloops Wawa about important visits (e.g. by a bishop) or departures (e.g. by Chiefs Louis and Chillihitzia with Father Le Jeune, to go to Europe) in the Catholic Native communities was the “general handshake” with the assembled local residents.
Chinook Jargon “haha milalam” is a phrase with a story behind it. I have pieced together at least this much: It’s from one or more Salish languages. It seems to come from the Coast. “Haha” is from the Salish root meaning “sacred; taboo”. “Milalam” may be from the Salish root meaning “to heal/cure someone”, originally done by a medicine person — specifically, I think, the kind who used medicinal substances like herbs — but semantically transferred to priests. (A further development in a number of Salish languages, kind of ironically, is a cross-contamination between this native root and the Chinook Jargon loan “malye” [ = “marry” ].) How we arrived at “communion” remains an interesting topic to speculate on; maybe the involvement of a spiritually powerful substance, the host/eucharist, made this a strong and clear metaphor. I’ll keep researching this story, and write it up one day.
“Liiam” is just one spelling for a common pronunciation of the word for “devil”. I recall reading in The Beaver, the HBC magazine, a 1920’s or so report about sightings of the Leom Bear in northern BC; that’s the “devil bear”. (And I have been unable to resist raising my kids to tease each other about the devil bear when we go hiking…) As for its being a regionalism, huh, now that I go checking, yes it might be a BC pronunciation. Samuel V Johnson’s dissertation only has it from Kamloops. Another question to look into some more.
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Thanks so much for your copious explication; you are delivering a real banquet of intellectual delights here.
“Haha milalam”. I just realized that this haha is what is delivered as XaXa7 in the GR dictionary, who derive it from Salishan for sacred, taboo, transformative. Now, to please clarify, does the full phrase mean communion or confession? Above you glossed it as confession…
It’s good to treat Bear with respect for his smudge of soleks tumtum in him, I reckon, liiam or no. But the Bears I’ve met in the boonies have luckily tended to be just a bit sadly put upon to have another annoying human bumble around their berry patch. More like Eeyore than anything!
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Ha, I confused myself: “haha milalam” is in fact “confess”. Aside from my own silliness, another reason for having gotten turned about is that Le Jeune actually uses a different, local-Salish-sourced word for this much more often: “lahanshut”. (Which is literally something like “make oneself clear, come clear/clean”.) So let’s revise my theorizing a bit! But I do hold on to the hypothesis that “milalam” was originally a shamanic word — just as I believe “t’amanwas” was. More on this in a future post.
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