Dakelh welcome song for monsignor solves a puzzle, poses a puzzle, we solve it
Fortunately for us, the acute-epithetted Alex Code noticed and made a captioned video of a Northern Chinook Jargon song that’s of some importance to us.
This is a type of Chinook Jargon song that we knew of already, from written sources:
- The Kamloops Wawa newspaper shows us (#129, June 1895, page 96 under “Our Future Prayer Book”) a 12-stanza “Welcome to the Bishop” song:
Nsaika papa lisivik wiht chako nanich nisaika
‘Our father the bishop has come again to see us;’
Tlus kanawi yutl tomtom wawa mirsi papa.
‘Let everyone be glad to say Thank you, Father!’ - Page 11 of Kamloops Wawa #160 (January 1898) tells in French about “the Welcome, Monsignor” song being sung by the Northern Secwepemc Indigenous people of Canim Lake, BC.
- Father Nicolas Coccola’s biography “They Call Me Father” quotes a remembered song of welcome to that priest among their neighbours, the Dakelh people in BC:
Ay, Pell Cola! Ay mesika papa!
Ay, Pell Cola! Ay mesika papa!
Mamook Klahowya mika tenas
Mamook klahowya kuna mokst mesika.[a bad translation into English:]
“Hi Pere Coccola, hi our father! Make greetings your children, make
greetings altogether we.”
But, never before have we heard one of these songs! What did they sound like?
An answer has arrived.
When you’re listening to the one in Alex’s video, you may notice a number of “fuzzy” points in it. The folks remember the song, but it’s doubtful they understand the Chinook Jargon in it. So the words have gotten a little changed in their pronunciation. At one or two points they’re actually difficult to understand! (But see the end of today’s article…)
Here’s a representation of its lyrics, standardizing the spelling of words I feel sure about:
ei monsenyel, ei nesaika papa,
‘Hey Monsignor, hey our father,’
ei monsenyel, ei nesaika papa,
‘Hey Monsignor, hey our father,’
mamook-tlahowya nesaika*,
‘Take pity on us*,’
mamook-tlahowya kanawei nesaika,
‘Take pity on all of us,’
tlahowya, papa monsenyel!
‘Hello, father Monsignor!’
tlahowya, papa monsenyel!
‘Hello, father Monsignor!’
yakwaa* alta* maika chako
‘Here* now you’ve come’
mamook-st’iwi’etl k’ilapai*
‘To pray in return*’
The final word is a puzzle…it doesn’t make sense to me, and it’s not an expression found anywhere in the known Chinook Jargon literature. I suspect it’s another one of the mis-remembered bits; kanamokwst (‘together’), for example, might make more sense.
Last-minute rescue:
By a fantastic coincidence, just after drafting the preceding, I found the following newspaper clipping. It accurately (except for confusing masaika ‘you folks’ for nesaika ‘we’) quotes the lyrics as originally sung, plus giving another crummy English translation that is, however, useful to us. I’ll highlight in green where it differs from my inferrred version:
“Oh, Monseigneur, oh ma sika
Papa;
Oh, Monseigneur, oh ma sika
Papa.
Mamuk, klahowya, mika ten-
ass;
Mamuk, klahowya, kanaway
na sika.Klahowya, Papa Monseigneur,
Klahowya, Papa Monseigneur;
Ulta, ulta, mika chako,
Momik stewil kanamox.”In translation it is roughly this:
“Oh, Bishop, you, the father
of all of us;
Strive to greet your small
ones;
Strive to greet all of us.Greetings, Father, Bishop;
Greetings, Father Bishop;
Now, come, you come,
Strive to pray together.
— from “Country of the Babines: Part Two” by Robert Barrett in the Vancouver (BC) Sun of June 28, 1946, pages 29 (columns 1-5) & 30 (columns 4-5)
(Part One is in the Vancouver (BC) Sun of June 8, 1946, pages 22 (columns 1-5) & 23 (columns 1-4).)
Between the audio recording of the tune and these old lyrics, now we can reconstruct the song in full!
Note 1: Barrett describes witnessing some young women passing by on the water and starting to sing the above song; the then-80+-year-old Chief Daniel Leon joined in. Why do I suspect this was the local joke in 1946 when a stranger showed up?
Note 2: Barrett’s article, primarily from conversations Chief Daniel Leon and with a man called Alec, portrays the strong fur-trade French influence, and the secondary Chinook Jargon presence, in Lake Babine Nation territory in a way that recognizably reflects facts. Please read the non-linguistic content of it with skepticism, though.
