A much more complicated cultural tension [more than two languages] arises from the impact of the sophisticated on the primitive, and vice a versa. The most dramatic example, and one I have given elsewhere, is that of Duncan Campbell Scott, working in the department of Indian Affairs in Ottawa. He writes of a starving squaw baiting a fish-hook with her own flesh, and he writes of the music of Dubussy and the poetry of Henry Vaughan. In English literature we have to go back to Anglo-Saxon times to encounter so incongruous a collision of cultures (Bush Garden 221).

It is interesting, and telling of literary criticism at the time, that while Frye lights on this duality in Scott’s work, or tension between “primitive and civilized” representations; however, the fact that Scott wrote poetry romanticizing the “vanishing Indians” and wrote policies aimed at the destruction of Indigenous culture and Indigenous people – as a distinct people, is never brought to light. In 1924, in his role as the most powerful bureaucrat in the department of Indian Affairs, Scott wrote:

The policy of the Dominion has always been to protect Indians, to guard their identity as a race and at the same time to apply methods, which will destroy that identity and lead eventually to their disappearance as a separate division of the population (In Chater, 23). 

For this blog assignment, I would like you to explain why it is that Scott’s highly active role in the purposeful destruction of Indigenous people’s cultures is not relevant for Frye in his observations above? You will find your answers in Frye’s discussion on the problem of ‘historical bias’ (216) and in his theory of the forms of literature as closed systems (234 –5).

–ENG 470A: Canadian Studies

Frye calls out the structure of Canadian literature as a voice of the known, established fact and history, and never from the imaginative sprouted from experience, “the form of [the Canadian writer’s] expression of it can take shape only from what he has read, not from what he has experienced” (234). With this, he further expands on Canadian writers only expressing through their “school books” and write for the sake of the “argumentative of language” (235). From my understanding, Frye views Canadian literature as a report, a newspaper article giving a review on a movie that they had recently watched, even though Canadians have dreamed of writing the best selling novel, “the feeling that somebody some day will write a Canadian fictional classic” (236). But it hasn’t been done. And it is because Canadians write from history books, not from the imaginative thoughts drawn from experience.

Falling under the criteria of what makes up a Canadian writer is Scott’s writing. His work speaks to fight for the Indians from what has been said in text, what is factual and historically relevant for years. But the discussion of the cultural tension as Frye observed, was limited by Scott by only seeing black and white, civilized and barbarians. “Right was white, wrong black and, nothing else counted or existed” (228). So even with Scott’s protection for the Indians, his writing only focused on the black and white, limiting himself to left and right, purely historical facts that did not even try to reach outside of the historical bias and form any creative thought that, as Frye said, would have “positive effects on intellectual life.”

Frye tells us that the mentality of seeing things as just “two solitudes” is problematic, “nothing original can grow” (228). And that’s what makes Scott’s role in the culture of Indigenous culture and its destruction irrelevant to Frye. His entire belief and critic of Canadian literature is the tendency of such writers to box themselves in what is traditionally known through Canada’s history, and that lack of imaginative growth and creative expansion, as well as the inclination of Canadian writers to zoom in on just either left and right, white or black, the loss of colour in writing, is why we have never been able to achieve the Canadian classic literature dream.

Scott follows what Frye criticizes as using words as an “argumentative” form, writing with “more conviction and authority than literature itself” (229). His protection of the Indigenous peoples are used as weapons (229), rightfully so as it is a fight to guard their identity in a colonial country, but if his writing is read through a Frye microscope, it highly negates what literature should be formed of. Scott aimed to fight and argue and protect, when Frye has been a critic of such ways as it strays away from what he values in the structure of actual form of literature.

Work cited:

Frye, Northrop. The Bush Garden; Essays on the Canadian Imagination. 2011 Toronto: Anansi. Print.

“In the early time, long ago, an Indian maiden was taken into the sky. When she came back to the land, the man who took her turned into a grizzly bear. Her three brothers searched for her but found the bear first and killed it without realizing that it was their sister’s husband. They brought the skin to where the river calls back the salmon every year. The Gitxsan people have been in Kispiox ever since.”

3] In order to address this question you will need to refer to Sparke’s article, “A Map that Roared and an Original Atlas: Canada, Cartography, and the Narration of Nation.” You can easily find this article online. Read the section titled: “Contrapuntal Cartographies” (468 – 470). Write a blog that explains Sparke’s analysis of what Judge McEachern might have meant by this statement: “We’ll call this the map that roared.”

As I was formulating my response to Sparke’s interpretation of “The Map That Roared”, I found The New York Times article that covered the news about the Supreme Court overruling the Delgamuukw vs. The Queen, which greatly helped me in understanding the articles and history better. From Sparke’s article, he understood the claim by Chief Justice McEachern as a proper retaliation, finally, against the colonials for the right to their land. The map’s coordination and presentation provided enough images to showcase their position on the land, where they hunt, where they fish, and have claimed their rightful place. And after reading TNYT article, it gave me more insight to the background story beneath Sparke’s article. TNYT explained how the Gitxsan fought their case in court using oral histories. It was new for the court to allow such evidences to be used; they even refused to let the Gitxsans to perform and sing their histories at first, but then relented and gave them permission to submit their stories orally as evidence. The court was able to back their claims up by having geologists and biologists “to search for historic concurrence. They drilled deep core samples and found evidence that a monumental mud slide leveled the area about 3,500 years ago, placing the event within the time frame of Gitsxan habitation.” It left me and many others in awe of this discovery, especially to find truth within such unique circumstances, which was what intrigued TNYT to write about in the news.

Relating the court story from TNYT to Sparke’s article, it holds testament to how vital art and oral was and is to the First Nations and their land. Like Neil Sterritt Sr.said at the court proceedings, “What evidence did we have to show them this land was ours? There are the names of the territory, the names of the streams, the names of the mountain peaks. This took thousands and thousands of years. These are our boundaries. You could not fake them.”

The title to their land does not have to be on paper, on legal documents or any hard copies of proof, but the upholding of tradition and oral history that keeps their history alive was what helped them kept their right. The colonial settlers didn’t win with their arguments and Exhibits of refute. The Gitsxans won because of their beliefs, their performances, and their sense of self, tradition, and home. The map represented their place on the land, it printed out their colourful images of representation and position and home, and the oral stories are what keeps their legacies and places alive, give meaning to their existence on the land that they belong in, and allows them to own what is and will always be rightfully theirs.

Work Cited:

DePalma, Anthony. “Canadian Indians Win a Ruling Vindicating Their Oral History.” The New York Times. The New York Times, 8 Feb. 1998. Web. 21 June 2015.

Hurley, Mary C. “Aboriginal Title: The Supreme Court of Canada Decision in Delgamuukw v. British Columbia (BP459e).” Parliament Government Canada. Library of Parliament, 1998. Web. 21 June 2015.

3. We began this unit by discussing assumptions and differences that we carry into our class. In “First Contact as Spiritual Performance,” Lutz makes an assumption about his readers (Lutz, “First Contact” 32). He asks us to begin with the assumption that comprehending the performances of the Indigenous participants is “one of the most obvious difficulties.” He explains that this is so because “one must of necessity enter a world that is distant in time and alien in culture, attempting to perceive indigenous performance through their eyes as well as those of the Europeans.” Here, Lutz is assuming either that his readers belong to the European tradition, or he is assuming that it is more difficult for a European to understand Indigenous performances – than the other way around. What do you make of this reading? Am I being fair when I point to this assumption? If so, is Lutz being fair when he makes this assumption? – Erika Paterson, ENG 470A.

First contact – Juan Perez and the Haida – 1774

It’s quite interesting how seemingly contradictory I find Lutz’s readings to be. His assumption tells us that we must be of an alien culture, distanced from either Indigenous or European performances to properly understand their meaning, but then spends time in his article to note that similarities in both cultures are what contributes to their peace. He shares stories from both Indigenous and Europeans to demonstrate the similarity in their beliefs: spirituality and religion. And those two common aspects are what established a good middle ground that avoided violence from both sides. The belief in Europeans are “transformers” for example are told in many different stories across the Indigenous culture. Each is told with only a slight difference–the white men descending from the sky or from death with their pale skin, came from the salmon world, or similar other cosmology that resulted in the same conviction: Indigenous people believe in the spiritual world, and those different from them were/are seen as creatures of magic. On the other side, Europeans were heavily influenced on their religious beliefs, believing that God guided their missions across the seas and blessed their voyages (40). This, Lutz claims, “explains why they are peaceful” (41). The conjunctions between both cultures help either group connect and understand their ancestor’s stories. These similarities is what makes people understand, the shared stories and beliefs created connection and better comprehension rather than produce doubt and confusion.

I don’t necessarily think Lutz is making the assumption that it’s harder for Europeans to grasp Indigenous performances, since he shared their equally unique beliefs that somehow mirrors that of an Indigenous culture. Rather than further distinguishing the difference in either cultures, I think Lutz did a fairly good job of finding their commonality and connect the two groups, perhaps erasing some of the alienation attributed to either culture by either party. Though he did make a point to say that comprehending the performances of the Indigenous participants is “one of the most obvious difficulties,” but he then shares the beliefs of Europeans that can be rather unknown to the Indigenous. It’s just a little unfair that we didn’t get how the Indigenous would find the European culture from his article. But I assume he wrote that assumption towards his Western readers who can relate more to the world of Christianity and religious beliefs than that of the existence of a spiritual world. The divide comes between the reader and the telling of Indigenous culture, rather than the European and Indigenous. Though still, It’s not entirely fair for him to assume that Indigenous performances are more difficult to understand, not everyone feels the same way about Christianity or God’s presence in retaliation. But given that if his target audience for his reading are towards the Western culture, it would make better sense to offer this conjecture.

The biggest takeaway from Lutz’s reading is at the very end; that despite these distinctions, alienation or connection in cultures’ stories, the time it takes for any culture to be familiarized in the unfamiliar.

“The place of the European stranger has shifted in indigenous cosmology, but probably not as rapidly as some have suggested. Likewise, the place of indigenous people in European cosmology has shifted, but slowly, unevenly, ad incompletely” (43).

It is in the nature of belief systems, no matter how similar or different, that they change overtime. The strength in this is precisely what is incorporated into the familiar.

Below is a performance of a Potlatch in the villiage of Wuikinuxv, Rivers Inlet BC. An example on one of their performances to spread gifts and wealth among their culture.

“The potlatch is a traditional gathering held by many of the coastal aboriginal groups. The word itself (may be derived from the Nootka word pachitle) is a Chinook Jargon word that means “to give”.”

Works cited:

Lutz, John S. Myth and Memory Stories of Indigenous-European Contact. Vancouver: UBC, 2007. Print.

“Potlatch July 2009 by RdCdrCarver.” Online video clip. Youtube. Youtube,  10 Jul. 2009. Web. 6 Jun. 2015.

Myers, Mark. First contact – Juan Perez and the Haida – 1774. N.d. Index of uploads/images/ouevres/20s/Myers. Artetmer.com. Web. 6 Jun. 2015.

“First Nations Potlatch.” Potatch – First Nations in B.C. – BC Archives Time Machine. British Columbia Archives, Royal BC Museum. Web. 6 Jun. 2015.

Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.

The reason I chose these three blog posts is that their sense of home can relate to mine. Us four have moved from one place to another and had to adjust, find a new sense of home in a new environment. But what I really admired about their outlook of moving and home is that they found a silver lining in the change. My three peers have found something beautiful about their new place and let that define their renewed definition of home. It’s very admirable and inspiring.

“It just goes to show that stories can diverge, parallel, and intersect.” – Evan Franey

“In my twenty years of life, I’ve realized that home is not a house. Home is the people you love, it is the moments you cherish, and it is the places you’ll never forget. Home is a feeling.” – Alishae Abeed

“Places are always connected, because “there” is what creates “here”. “ – Sarah Steer

Evan, Alishae, Sarah, and I have all moved from one country to the next. Much like myself, home is not a specific space, a distinct house or a permanent address. Home is fleeting, it moves when we do, changes when we adapt, grows when we age. It’s pretty much what I expected, seeing as Canada is a very multicultural country and it has welcomed a diversity of immigrants and travelers from across the world. Sarah went through “the process of migration created a feeling of in-betweenness, stuck between “there” and “here”, slowly at first, accepting her surroundings before letting it sink in with the rest of her memories of home. But Evan and Alishae both felt at ease and free the second they arrived at a new space, because they carried with them their sense of home within and that allowed them to feel at home much more easily.

Their stories are the same, their values of coming from different countries are the same, and they all shared my common assumption of migration. But while we all have our similarities, it’s still important to acknowledge the differences. Even when all four of us had to move and find a new home, we’re all moving at a different pace in accepting it. One could be an Evan who adapts quickly, noting the diversity and using that in a positive light to belong with others who are different, much like him. One could be an Alishae, carrying home with her every step, connecting herself with every corner to feel welcomed and at ease. One could be a Sarah, afraid and reluctant at first, needing time to adjust and feel comfortable even if it takes all the time in the world to do so. Or could be like me, still longing for my sense of home that I feel like I’ve lost, but every day is a new day in trying to find and pursue where I really belong.

Work Cited:

Franey, Evan. “Home In Transition. ” Liminal Space Between Story And Literature. UBC Blogs. 05 June 2015. Web. 08 June 2015.

Abeed, Alishae. “Home Is A Feeling.” ENG 470A: Canadian Studies. UBC Blogs. 05 June 2015. Web. 08 June 2015.

Steer, Sarah. “Wherever I go I carry home on my back.” ENG 470A: Canadian Studies. UBC Blogs. 04 June 2015. Web. 08 June 2015.

Rene. Welcome Home Doormat. 2010. Pottery Barn. Mighty Goods.com. Web. 08 June 2015.

You know those scenes during Home Alone when Kevin hated his family but after spending days without them he ended up missing having all of them around? Or in How The Grinch Stole Christmas, he loathed everyone in Whoville, but seeing them all singing around the giant Christmas tree, holding hands despite their stolen presents and broken ornaments, made his heart grow two sizes too big? Or in every Christmas movie really, from Ryan Reynold’s comedy Just Friends to Disney’s heart wrenching tales in Mickey’s Christmas Carol, everyone valued the presence of family, friends, and the warmth from having the people you love surround you during the most wonderful time of the year.

My life every December was just like a delightful Christmas movie. Up until I moved to Canada.

Christmas is and will always be my favourite holiday. If not my favourite everything. If Christmas were a person, we’d be wearing matching BFF necklaces that I handcrafted myself, and I’d always pick Christmas first in gym. And what shaped my relationship with it was the way my entire family – parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, quite literally the entire family tree – celebrated it over the years as I was growing up.

Whenever people here in Vancouver would ask me, how does your family celebrate Christmas?

Well…

Every year on Christmas Eve, my mom, dad and siblings and I would drive all the way to my (now late) grandmother’s house a good two or so hours away from where we lived. But it didn’t matter because it was tradition. So we drove there always excitedly. Every single year everyone would drive there, no matter where my aunts and uncles have ended up living (one lived a good three hours away), and we’d place our presents (one for each kid (the adults ended up doing Secret Santa to save money)) under the giant Christmas tree in the living room. Then we’d all break out into groups; the kids would play, the adults would smoke outside, drink and chat, and some of the moms would help out in the kitchen. Right before midnight we’d all gather around the dining room and help ourselves to Noche Buena with tradition Filipino food plus Filipino specialties reserved only for Christmas time (again this was tradition. Law, almost). After so, we’d all sit around the tree and the kids would grab presents, read the cards attached and hand it to whom it was for. We did this one a time to document each surprised (some glad, some disappointed) face after unwrapping their gifts. Then the adults would take over but us kids would stick around and watch (mostly because it was way too hilarious – the amount of times my dad got socks from his siblings, not the mention the word ‘SALE’ still attached on the price tag). Then we would all break out again and play with our presents, parents laughing at each other when one demanded for their gifts to be exchanged, and some to even have some more food.

The decorations, the music, the laughter and warmth and presence of my family around me that was what shaped my meaning of Christmas. Highlighted with the way Philippines just highly valued the holiday in general. A countdown would start on our local news even before Halloween ended (All of us already brimming with excitement even when the bold numbers still read ‘81 DAYS!’). Lights all over the trees decorating the highways, the malls, houses and even lamp posts. Christmas music (both English and Tagalog versions) on loop on the radio and blasting from people’s houses. Christmas really was the best time of the year for them, for us. For me. Christmas was our favourite break, our favourite chance of reconciling with family, our favourite feeling that even now I can never put into words. Christmas was home. Or at least, it defined home. It represented home.

I wish I could pluck a specific story from fourteen different Christmas Eves I’ve had back home. But they have managed to blend together. I’m no longer sure which present was from when I was eight or which year was when my aunt laughed so hard she fell so far back on her chair, she toppled to the floor as my mom told some ridiculous story about my dad. It was basically the same every year. But it wasn’t the boring kind of same. It was the anticipated kind. Like how you’d get excited when there’d be a Harry Potter marathon on ABC despite having seen each at least eight times. It was the kind of tradition that we celebrated, loved and enjoyed. Each year was different but still the same and all of each I’ve grouped into this one giant story I love to always think about when I miss home, make me smile when I’m sad because I haven’t seen any of them in six or so years.

Since we moved to Canada in 2009, my family of six would celebrate with just each other. Sometimes with friends, but we’d rather keep it in the family (That sense of tradition followed us all the way here). From a group of twenty, only six now gather around the tree, only six presents to pluck instead of a ball pit of them, and only about two dishes sat on the dining table rather than the whole feast we Filipinos loved.

It’s still family. It’s still Christmas but this is where we live, not what we can really call our home. It’s sadly lonely despite our attempts to try something to make it bigger each year (more presents or food or inviting friends). It will never be the same.

There’s just quite no place like home.

(We unfortunately left our photos back in the Philippines, so these ones are from Christmases we celebrated here. I also included a Youtube playlist of Tagalog Christmas songs in case you guys wanna hear them!)

Works cited:

Olivares, Angela. “Christmas in Canada 2012 (1).” 2012. JPEG.

Olivares, Angela. “Christmas in Canada 2012 (2).” 2012. JPEG.

Panales, Rodel. “Part 1: Paskong Pinoy OPM Christmas Song Collections.” Online video clip. Youtube. 6 November 2013. Web. 5 June 2015.