INDIAN ISLAND, Maine – A member of the Penobscot Nation in Maine is trying to save the tribe's native language before it's too late.

Carol Dana is publishing a bilingual book with University of Maine Professor Margo Lukens to help preserve the Penobscot language.

In the new year, they'll release "They Remember Me Still," which includes 13 traditional tales about the tribe's cultural hero, Gluskabe, both in Penobscot and English.

Dana explains the Penobscot Nation in Maine no longer has any fluent native speakers of its language.

"The native speakers that had it from birth are gone,” she explains. “They were gone 10, 12 years ago. I've just been on this journey of trying to save Penobscot language. It's been quite a road. Fifty years."

Dana says she heard the language from her grandmother and tribal elders, although her parents didn't speak it at home.

She studied how to teach Penobscot in college, and now does so on the reservation.

The University of Massachusetts Press will publish the book, along with online audio recordings from Dana and other Penobscot speakers.

Lukens says the Penobscot language is at risk of extinction today because of strong attempts to kill it in previous decades.

"There have been a couple of generations of people whose use of the language has been interrupted by such things as the boarding school experience, and the experience of Maine public schools really not being tolerant of any language except English," she relates.

For Dana, it's important that the book is used by Penobscot people, young and old, and particularly in primary school.

Beyond saving the language, she also finds the stories inspiring.

"A lot has happened to us throughout colonial history, but our stories speak of great power,” she states. “And that's why else I do it – because we internalize this oppression.
We take it on. We've got high suicide rates. We need to stand strong, and this is our stuff."

Dana and Lukens have modernized the stories, which are centuries old.

Conor Quinn, the only linguist specializing in Penobscot language, also helped them with translation of the original collection of tales, published in 1918.


get more stories like this via email

Funding for the Indian Health Service has increased over the past decade but the agency remains underfunded, which affects both the health and culture of South Dakota tribes.

In 2021, the life expectancy of a Native American or Alaska Native in the U.S. was just over 65 years. That's 11 years less than non-Hispanic white people, and the biggest gap since 1940.

Damon Leader Charge, director of tribal outreach for the Sanford School of Medicine at the University of South Dakota and former Tribal Health Administrator for the Rosebud Sioux Tribe said the Indian Health Service must provide health care for Native people but noted in a panel discussion care can be hard to get.

He noted people in his tribe who want to use the Indian Health Service to give birth have to travel 90 miles to Pine Ridge.

"We're not having our babies within our tribal homelands," Leader Charge pointed out. "If our young parents don't have those type of teachings, in terms of maternal child health, that baby -- that Wakanyeja, that sacred being -- is going to really start off on the wrong foot."

Indian Health Service funding has increased 68% over the past decade, but experts said it is still too low. In 2017, spending per capita was less than half the spending for veterans and less than one-third for Medicare, according to the National Council of Urban Indian Health.

DenYelle Kenyon, associate dean of community health and engagement at the University of South Dakota, said the problems are multipronged, so the solutions must be, too.

"In our state, the tribal lands have a 'double whammy' of facing both the historical piece and being rural," Kenyon observed. "We really need to not only grow the hospitals and the providers, but approach this from that health equity lens."

She stressed it means looking at social determinants of health, which include other qualities of life that relate to health like access to healthy food, and educational and economic opportunities.


get more stories like this via email

By Amy Felegy for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Judith Ruiz-Branch for Wisconsin News Connection reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration

Patty Loew attended five screenings of a new film this year. She wasn't joining box office masses at Wicked or Inside Out 2, but Bad River: A Story of Defiance.

The independent documentary, directed by Mary Mazzio and released in March, drew in masses of its own. AMC Theatres put it up on select big screens across the United States. Peacock started streaming it last month.

The documentary highlights longstanding issues facing the Bad River Band of Lake Superior Chippewa in northern Wisconsin. Loew 'Waswaagonokwe' (Torch Light on the Water Woman) is a citizen.

She and other Band members are interviewed in the film, which explores tragic boarding school histories and how members of the Band have faced violence and racism.

The documentary heavily focuses on the Line 5 dispute between the Band and Canadian energy company Enbridge. Loew, who recently retired as director of the Center for Native American and Indigenous Research at Northwestern University (among many other titles), addresses it in the film.

"My little tribe is standing up and saying, 'We're protecting the water, not just for us. We're protecting water for the planet.'"

Behind the Struggle

As it stands, 12 miles of a crude oil and natural gas pipeline run through Bad River land, constructed in 1953. In 2017, Bad River's tribal council voted against renewing the company's rights to use their land. It led to years of protests and activism when Enbridge refused to leave. Last summer, a federal judge gave Enbridge three years to shut down the pipeline on the reservation.

That reservation includes just under 40 miles of Lake Superior shoreline, thousands of wetland acres, and hundreds of miles of streams, rivers, and tributaries.

The documentary shows its beauty. Think grandiose drone shots and stunning water imagery.

"Bad River is where I go when I need my batteries recharged, when I need time to reflect, when I just need to get back in touch with things that make me happy," Loew says.

Last month, the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources issued construction permits for Line 5 to reroute 41 miles south of the reservation and exit Bad River lands by 2026.

But Loew and other Band members who are interviewed in the film say that isn't enough to protect Mashiiziibii land and nearby areas from a potential pipeline burst. They want it shut down.

Enbridge lawyers and the U.S. government say they can't, citing a 1977 energy treaty with the Canadian government. But Bad River citizens say Ojibwe treaties, which established reservations and land rights, predate that by over 100 years.

"If such a rupture were to occur, nearly one million gallons of oil would spill into the river, flowing into Lake Superior and devastating the wild rice beds and fishing populations central to the Band's way of life," stated 30 Midwestern Native Nations in a letter to the White House in February.

There have been over 20 spills along the Line 5's 645-mile route since 1968, including over 14,000 gallons in Bad River land in 1972.

Despite the continued debate, Loew has hope.

"The right thing will eventually happen," she says.

"I think everyone-whether you live in a red or a blue state, or whether you are Native or non-Native-[wants] clean water and clean air, not just for themselves, but for their children and grandchildren."


Amy Felegy wrote this story for Arts Midwest.


get more stories like this via email

Arizona State University has developed a new tool that they hope will help researchers analyze connections between illnesses and health determinants within Indigenous populations. The Indigenous Health Research Dashboard is an online repository of peer-reviewed, published studies that focus on medical conditions and diseases impacting Indigenous health since 2020.

Angela Gonzales, a member of the Hopi Tribe in Northern Arizona, and an ASU professor and director of the American Indian Studies Program, said it is important for her to be a part of an initiative that aims to move the needle for Indigenous health equity. She explains that she has seen firsthand the "devastating impacts" of limited access to health care in Native communities.

"By having it public available and accessible, when tribes are interested in trying to find out the latest research, for instance let's say on COVID-19 vaccinations, they have a one stop source to be able to access a lot of that information. You can search by keywords, can search by key topics, it breaks it down into regions," she said.

Gonzales added that the dashboard is what she calls 'bio-directional,' meaning it's an effort that is driven by what tribal partners have identified as major health concerns, and said the project has also allowed students to develop their research skills and learn to synthesize information. They are currently recruiting students to be a part of the team that will continue working on the initiative next year. She hopes they're able to capture a more 'holistic' and historical view of health trends and findings.

Gonzales says they're ramping up outreach efforts to ensure public health professionals and medical providers in Indigenous communities know about the useful resource. But she adds that Native communities have already expressed the need for such information.

"If you're a tribal health professional, the opportunity to do research, it takes away from your other responsibilities that are oftentimes more pressing. By having this dashboard available, they can go right to it," she continued.

Gonzales said that Indigenous health equity has been improving in recent years, but she says as an academic she hopes researchers do better to create a stronger 'knowledge bridge,' and develop resources that are use-inspired. She feels the dashboard is a step in that direction.


get more stories like this via email