by Zinnia Collins from Westminster University
Our first day on program Ben motions to a pile of books, teetering on collapsing the table on which they sit. At the bottom of one of the stacks was Gágiwduł.át: Brought Forth to Reconfirm the Legacy of a Taku River Tlingit Clan by Elizabeth Nyman (Sèdayà), translated by Jeff Leer. The story itself, while meant to be spoken, is written on the left-hand pages in Taku River Tlingit (TRT). The right contains the English version of Elizabeth’s story. Each chapter highlights Elizabeth’s connection to the landscapes I’ve just barely begun to learn about. I finished the book before we left on our first backpacking trip to the south end of Atlin Lake, and although I didn’t physically bring it with me, much of what I had learned followed.
Trevor, a land guardian of TRT and our gracious boat driver, dropped us off on the shore the Lewellyn inlet. It wasn’t long before observations of the surrounding landscapes dominated our conversation. Statements containing “I wonder what the soil composition is” and “what’s the scientific name for devils club?” could be heard as we walked toward the glacier, without a second glance at the beach swallowed by the subalpine fir. The goal of our trip was to survey the key medicinal plants in the area. From what I’ve heard, as access to the south shore of the lake has grown more expensive, some TRT members have lost the ability to use these places, while non-indigenous use has increased. The data we compile will provide critical information as to where these species exist and how these landscapes are changing with human use.
Nyman’s life story paints a different picture, one of when Tlingit travel and gathering on the south side of the lake was more common. One of a week-long celebration held within the inlet. Where the whole village gathered, and danced and sang. Her book added cultural context to these spaces I was analyzing through a conservation-dominated lens.
But the book also never lets me believe I understand it all. I weakly attempt to read the Tlingit left hand pages. A pronunciation guide tries to lead me in the right direction, but I have no reference for the meaning of these words; I have to accept the lack of knowledge I hold. Much of the translation portion of the book consists of footers. Each footer indicates a word that doesn’t have a direct translation in English. A constant reminder that my language lacks the words to accurately describe what Nyman is trying to convey. The awareness of my ignorance deepens.
Conservation is one language. To speak it is to approach the natural landscape through a valuable scientific lens. But we cannot account for the words our language misses. The cultural and historical connections, the footers at the end of the page. This highlights the importance of incorporating traditional ecological knowledge, such as Nyman’s, into conservation efforts. The more knowledge that can be compiled, the more likely we will be to truly conserve these landscapes in their entirety, not just in the language we understand.