Day four: The feast.

On the sixth of January, I had attended a traditional “feast” of the Nisga’a people.  This feast was similar to what a “potlatch” has been described to me in prior classes; this was also the first experience that I had ever been invited in within a First Nations’ community.  The feast was for a woman (Name not mentioned for respect) who had recently passed, of the wolf clan.  From an anthological standpoint, this is the epitome of what true culture is about. It started with the people being seated.  Arranged seating was called out, with the guests (Nisga’a name – “Princes”) being seated one row from the centre.  The wolves, direct family, were seated along the right edge of the room.  A majority of the population were quiet as soon as they were seated.  Soon, I noticed that the feast was monolingual, and gender roles were prominent.  The women ensured that the tables had the beverages needed, including tea and coffee.  The people around became acquainted with each other.  When everyone had arrived, the feast began. 

Some speaking had happened, and a prayer.  Dinner had begun.  The feast was the traditional “Nisga’a stew”, a simple stew with a traditional meat, generally moose, and tasty broth.  Depending on the type of feast, you would have to follow certain protocols, either one bowl of stew for how many feet you are (5’6” – five bowls of stew), or the more common one is at least three bowls of soup.  No limit as of tonight, so many people had two.  After dinner, the speaking started to happen, and a majority was in Nisga’a.  Being not from the culture, I couldn’t understand.  The emotions and the expressions that the people had given (80% of communication isn’t verbal), you could tell that they had cared deeply for the person, and that they, and the community was there for them.

After a lot of commentary (lack of better words) from many elders, they had started the donations towards the burial.  (From the community, many people – mostly if they are from the same clan on the father’s side give money to the family to help with any burial purposes, or to help with other funding, to ensure that they have no financial burdens.)  At this time, people had lined up against the wall with money in hand, and donated how much they could offer.  When someone had donated, their name was announced in Nisga’a (English if not applicable) and how much they donated.  The amount was 28k after all total calculations.

After, the feast became gender oriented.  The young men were called up, and the young women huddled into a corner.  Donations were split between certain relatives, and the young men had been given envelopes, with whom the donation was going to, and how much was in the envelope.  A woman then called out if the person had received any physical inheritance, including furniture or simple items.  The women carried any possible items to the people whose name was called. 

Then, was the time for the passing of the name.  I wasn’t too educated in this, but from what I know, I’m assuming that the name had been passed down to a new candidate who deserved it.  This also was explained entirely in Nisga’a.  This coexisted with the pole that would be erected in her honour.

Some final speeches and a prayer, and the feast had finished.

I had felt numerous feelings about attending this feast originally.  The stereotypical “feeling out of place” made me nervous, as I had asked for etiquette advice from Irene; Irene mentioned that I had nothing to worry about.  I was told before what would happen in the feast, and I followed to those rules.  I felt quite amazed that once the feast had started, everyone had an assigned role, and that gender is quite specific within the Nisga’a culture.  Although it was only the elders who were speaking, the amount of people are able to speak the language showed me that although it maybe a dying language, there is still force and encouragement to speak Nisga’a.  Because of language differences, the communication maybe mislead but it was only if you failed to realize the emotional standpoint.  Tasting some traditional food, and just listening, although not understanding made me happy to be present.  I left feeling moved and empowered, and it made me pleased that I am living in Gitwinksihlkw for this time allotted.