Harry Robinson tells both a first story (creation story) and a contact story (how settlers and indigenous people in North America first met) (Robinson, 9-10). I will give a very brief retelling of this story, but I will change some of the words in order to hopefully capture the intended message but also further illuminate that message. I will use “We” to denote settlers, and “They” to denote the indigenous people of North America (or Indians as Robinson says).
We and They were twins charged with performing certain tasks related to creating the earth and its first inhabitants. They performed their tasks. We may or may not have performed our tasks, but we did steal a text that We were told not to touch. When asked about this, We denied having taken the text. For this We were banished to a distant land, and They remained in Their place of origin. [This, Robinson says, is how They were here first before Us]. We were told that Our descendants would travel to the home of Their descendants to share the story from the text. When Our descendants came to the home of Their descendants, We not only killed Them and stole Their land, but We refused to share the story.
There are a few points that struck me in this story. First, We and They shared a common home (the place of origin). Robinson says that this story tells of how “the Indians were here before the white” (Robinson, 9, emphasis added). If We and They were in different places at the time of banishment, the banishment story would not need to be told to demonstrate how They were here first.
Second, We were not banished because we took the text, we were banished because we would not admit to taking the literature. We wanted to keep this text to Ourselves.
Third, if They were here first, and if the twins were both here originally, then we must not have been We (“white”) and they must not have been They (“Indian”) until the moment of banishment.
Putting these three points together, my first response to Robinson’s story is that the twins became ‘white’ and ‘Indian’, became Us and Them when we separated; and the twins separated because We wanted to keep Our newfound text – comprised of story(ies) – to Ourselves.
It wasn’t that We had the text, or the stories contained within it, it was that We wouldn’t share them. Jeanette Armstrong wrote that “when my words form I am merely retelling the same stories [of my people] in different patterns” (King, 2). We can only contextualize ourselves in that which has already been said. Having taken the written story for itself, neither the younger nor older twin could situate themselves in the same story, and so the twins became something different – Us and Them. Upon returning, We would still not share Our story, perhaps could not share Our story – much like the government officials in Chamberlain’s story (1).
But while the paper (text) was taken, the story of the paper could not be taken. You can steal a written document; I don’t think you can steal a story, at least not in the same way. You can retell it (and attempt to make it your own, attempt to appropriate it), but each and every story belongs to the moment of telling. Outside of that moment, it is a different story, and so has not been ‘stolen’ but rather recreated. [That being said, one can refuse to share a story, by refusing to tell it – which can also be a way to exert power]. But a story written down can be stolen by virtue of possessing the written document.
The story of the paper, however, is separate from the contents of the paper. It can stand irrespective of the text (paper). This is perhaps why Robinson’s story has such power, because even when written down, it retains important elements of orality – impermanence and flexibility. The storyteller or listener/reader can decide for themselves what the paper or the book Black and White contain (or leave it unsaid). [This echoes our previous assignments, in which we told the story of how evil came into the world, but didn’t necessarily tell of that evil].
This point relates to how we see Robinson himself – whether he is a mythteller or a storyteller. Wendy Wickwire suggests he would be insulted if called the former (Robinson, 29). I think the distinction is almost immaterial – he is a storyteller, and in the course of telling stories he may tell of myths and of historical events. What is important is that we recognise the stories he tells, and in particular the story of the twins, are not bound temporally. Robinson is telling us what happened, but he is also telling us what is happening, and what will or may happen.
He is situated within a much more expansive ‘contact zone’ than described by Lutz (Lutz, 4). In this sense, ‘first contact’ occurred almost at the moment of creation, which is given credence by the notion that any contact, at any point, is contextualized by a retelling of spiritual, cultural, moral stories of the people making contact, of all that has come before that point. And the contact zone is ongoing, and I wonder if it must continue until that story (Our story) is finally shared. At that point [and this is just a wild tangent at the end of a long blog post], perhaps We and They will again become something different, sharing common ground that enables We/They to contextualize the self and the other not in a single story (there can be no single truth), but in a fair and equal sharing of stories.
Chamberlain, J. Edward. If This Is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories? Finding Common Ground. Toronto: Vintage Canada, 2003.
King, Thomas. The Truth About Stories: a native narrative. Toronto: House of Anansi Press, Inc., 2003.
Lutz, John. “Contact Over and Over Again,” in Myth and Memory: rethinking stories of indigenous-european contact. Ed. John Lutz. Vancouver: UBC Press, 2007.
McAllister, Jamie. “It’s Your Story Now: how evil came into the world.” What’s the Story: Literature and Canada. n.p., 28 Jan 2014. Web. 09 Feb 2014.
Robinson, Harry. Living by Stories: a journey of landscape and memory. Ed. Wendy Wickwire. Vancouver: Talon Books, 2005.
Rollo, Tobold. “Sage Against the Machine: being truth to power.” Nations Rising. n.p., 10 Dec 2013. Web. 09 Feb 2014.
Thanks you Jamie – a most thoughtful response. I hope we see some dialogue here soon. ;) . I’ll be back to add my comments. Enjoy
Hi Jamie, thanks for a very interesting exploration.
It was very interesting to read Harry Robinson’s story with the “Us” and “Them” spelled out. It is interesting to think that when Harry told the story, the “We” and “They”s would have been reversed. I find it interesting that you emphasized the dichotomies in the story. The story was boiled down to polarized thinking. And yet, you came out of it noticing the unity inherent in the story. You found meaning in the interstices. In a story so full of dichotomies it is lovely to think that the in between meanings still come through.
I really like your analysis of the role of the paper. I hadn’t thought of it in terms of “story” but more in terms of regulations and land titles, etc. I guess, in essence, regulations and land titles are a kind of story too. What is key too, I think, is that “the younger twin stole a written document…he had been warned not to touch” (Robinson 9). The younger twin was incapable of carrying through creation tasks without deviating into malicious behavior. I like how you tied this in with our “how evil came into the world” assignments as I think this is a story in a similar vein. And it is remarkable that in this story, the evil that comes into the world is firmly situated within one person and his descendents.
I wonder if the paper signifies even more. Perhaps it is a warning against setting stories down into print. The temptation to cling to the words on the page rather than embrace the impermanence/permanence of orality. The twins were not supposed to read the written document let alone touch it. The younger twin then becomes the custodian of the document and what is inscribed on it. The younger twin is given a translator-like role. It has become his duty to translate the content of the paper to the older twin and his descendents and he becomes a traitor. It fits perfectly within Chamberlain’s anecdote about the Italian meaning for translator being a play on the word “traitor” (I can’t for the life of me find that page number). There is a power in the paper, and what is hidden from the paper, that allows the younger twin to wreak havoc on the shores of the older twin. It would seem that the real issue is one of misunderstanding. And, as you said so well, the misunderstanding stems from someone’s refusal to speak their story.
Works Cited
Robinson, Harry. Living By Stories: A Journey of Landscape and Memory.” Ed. Wendy Wickwire. Vancouver: Talonbooks, 2007. Print.
Thank you Lauren ;)
And I hadn’t thought of the paper as regulations and rules until you mentioned it….so thank you for that! I would agree that rules, regulations, etc. are all stories themselves. And they all kind of contain the traditionally-important elements of good stories and literature. There’s setting (the rules of the ‘world’ of the story), plot (the potentiality that someone may or may not follow the rules/regulations/etc.), protagonist (that rule breaking ne’er-do-well!) and antagonist (the person who wrote the rules) – both of whom have their own motivations, etc.
But what really got me thinking from your comment is the connection of the paper to that most infamous of Indian policies (which is really just a set of regulations) – Pierre Trudeau’s 1969 White Paper (http://indigenousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/home/government-policy/the-white-paper-1969.html). This White Paper sought to abolish the Indian Act and the legal relationship between Canada and Indigenous peoples, creating more equality as part of Trudeau’s vision for a more just society. For a number of reasons (related to popular culture depictions of paper, and the fact that word processors tend to print on white paper), I imagine the paper in Robinson’s story to be white in colour, or at least beige or something – allowing writing to be easily seen. I can’t imagine the level of skepticism with which Indigenous people would meet an Indian policy called white paper – and not just because of the ‘white majoritarian’ overtones, but because of the obvious links to that first incarnation of an ‘official’ paper, written far away somewhere, and read first by white men. Just as a President should understand what it means to throw a shoe in a country you’re holding a major press conference after a bloody war, someone in Trudeau’s inner circle should have known the implications of telling a new Indian story on white paper. Thanks again Lauren. Cheers, Jamie.
Wow, very insightful post Jamie. This class has really given me a different perspective on the power of story telling and how it truly is an art form.
I agree with your sentiments that the distinction of whether Robinson is a mythteller or storyteller is immaterial. This difference is really arbitrary in the sense that we are recognizing the stories themselves. What’s interesting in stories such as this are what you personally take from them. After reading this story I immediately thought about Aboriginal title to land and how it was and still is, in many instances, disregarded by the Crown and previous Settlers. In Chamberlain’s book “If This is Your Land Where Are Your Stories?” He discusses many thoughts regarding land title. This story by Robinson definitely made me reflect on some of what Chamberlain alluded to.
I thought of the “paper” being taken similar to the Settlers saying they would agree to Aboriginal land claims but in the end they didn’t fulfill their agreement. By having the “paper” the Settlers “(or young twin) could make claims to that land though it was in a sense stolen to begin with. So in the end the document had the power to say what is and what will be, regardless of if it held true to their (“Us” and “Them”) actual verbal agreement.
I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like for the first Aboriginals to see foreign vessels nearing their land. It must have been a very scary/anxious time not knowing what is onboard these mass vessels which are heading to your home.
Works Cited:
Chamberlain, J. Edward. If This Is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories? Finding Common Ground. Toronto: Vintage Canada, 2003.
Robinson, Harry. Living By Stories: A Journey of Landscape and Memory.” Ed. Wendy Wickwire. Vancouver: Talonbooks, 2007. Print.
Thank you Samuel ;)
Samuel (Sam?), I think what you hit on here (with your thoughts of the paper being taken as similar to reneging on land title agreements) is exactly what makes many indigenous northwest stories compelling and gives them (the stories) their agency – the fact that they are flexible enough to incorporate so many themes, occurrences, events, etc. And as I suggested elsewhere, it’s likely why indigenous cosmology, history, etc. – why indigenous people themselves – were, for a time, in a position to dictate the course of events and relations immediately following contact. Cheers for the comment/thoughts. Jamie.