Young California Indians rekindling Native languages
By Stephen Magagnini
Long-dormant California Indian languages and cultures are enjoying a renaissance among American Indians, and no one embodies that more than the Ramirez family.
"Our daughter's first words were 'Utha, Utha,' which means mom in Miwok," said her father, Petee Ramirez, as he cradled his 4-month old son, Ahumate – bear in Miwok.
Ramirez and his wife, Jennifer – whose bloodline comes from several California Indian nations – joined more than 200 other native people and linguists this weekend at the Language Is Life Conference 2009 at the University of California, Davis. The gathering showcased indigenous languages, which are fading as elders pass on.
Ramirez, 28, said he met his wife at a meeting on native languages, where experts said, "If you want to learn your language have a kid."
It's working, Ramirez said. His daughter Loyema is named after the Miwok word for flowers.
"When I was 14 and trying to learn our language my aunt taught me Loyema, and I thought it was beautiful," Ramirez said. "Loyema's mom and I were both without our language, and now every day we talk to her as much as we know."
Loyema, now a toddler, knows the Miwok words for different parts of her body. She even says kanapo – Miwok for poop – when it's necessary.
To learn new words, they rely on a handful of elders who still speak southern and northern Miwok dialects.
"I talk to my aunt Shirley at least every other week – she's always teaching me different words," Ramirez said. "It's respecting the old ways and the elders who were taken away to Indian boarding schools where some were beaten and abused if they spoke their language."
Petee said his two aunts ran away from Stuart Indian School in Nevada. Jennifer Ramirez said her grandparents met at Sherman Indian School in Riverside.
"I knew I was Indian, but I wasn't sure what it meant to be Miwok or California Indian," said Jennifer Ramirez, who is also part Serrano, a Southern California nation. "I didn't have the spiritual grounding that other friends had."
Ramirez, whose great-grandmother was a basket weaver in Yosemite, said she met a Chumash basket weaver "who was learning her language and put the spark in me to go find answers."
Learning native songs has made it fun. "We were able to research the music and listen to it over and over," she said.
The couple are now part of the Sheepranch Miwok Dancers. They perform an old Miwok gambling song "Minimini Wuksum," which means "Where are You Going?"
The song mocks a gambler who heads for the mountains after losing at bones, a popular American Indian bluffing game.
The song says, "Where are you going – get me my money first," Petee Ramirez explained.
The couple, who now live in Stockton, can afford to spend time researching their language because Jennifer Ramirez's grandfather belongs to the Morongo, a casino tribe in Riverside County.
California tribes such as the Yocha Dehe Wintun Nation, which operates Cache Creek Casino in Yolo County's Capay Valley, use gambling revenue to help revive their language and culture.
The Capay Valley tribe used to be known as the Rumsey Band. It officially changed its name to Yocha Dehe, which in the Patwin language means "home in the valley of springs," said Martha Macri, the Yocha Dehe endowed chair in California Indian Studies at UC Davis.
The Yocha Dehe "have actually succeeded in getting the children to get so excited to speak it," Macri said. "The people are frequently bantering conversationally, which is a big hurdle that people rarely get to."
California's Indian-language renaissance hasn't been easy, Macri said.
The Tubatulabal tribe's last fluent speaker died last summer, Macri explained, "and they're continuing to do quite a bit of work with 'language rememberers' who don't consider themselves fluent, but spoke it as a child."
Macri teaches Native American Studies 107, a popular class where students learn indigenous languages of their choice, including Yurok, Konkow and Pomo.
"I tell my students learning a heritage language is like sex; it's intrinsically pleasurable," Macri said. "I had one student whose mother was Cora from northern Mexico, and she wanted to be able to sit around the kitchen table and talk Cora with her mother and aunties.
"She had a very slim dictionary and had to learn everything from her mother," she said. "Now she can join in the conversation."
Margie Martinez, 83, of Northern California's Pit River Band, recalled the joy of hearing her great-grandson Tyler Stein speak the native language.
"This little German-Norwegian-Pit River kid says 'Suphala Gigi!' – hurry up Grandma! – in Ajumawi," said Martinez, who sells language rocks – rocks with native words on them – at her jewelry stand.
"Young people are more interested in their culture than ever," said L. Frank of the Tongva and Ajachmen tribes, near San Juan Capistrano. She's working with academics and elders to reconstruct her tribal language.
"It's very freeing to find your language and see that you are actually from somewhere," Frank said.
Sacramento Bee-(Sept.6,2009)
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