Masta’s Abenaki Legends, Grammar, and Place Names is not just a dictionary, but also a dissection of an immense collection of different Abenaki words, names, and tales. Titles and stories are broken down and explained for the reader. Their origins are traced, and their importance is sketched. In constructing and compiling these extensive explanations, Masta is actively revitalizing the Abenaki language and promoting decolonization through the continued practice of the dying language. Masta is also utilizing the Abenaki language so as to carry on the myths and cosmos of the native people.
Within the foreword written by A. Irving Hallowell, a professor of anthropology at the University of Pennsylvania, he explains, “While the phonetic symbols used (in this book) are not refined to the extent demanded in academic circles, a reasonable degree of systemization has been achieved” (Hallowell, 11). This excerpt is an attempt to warn the reader that the writer will be using traditional Abenaki spellings and letter combinations. Masta chose this method in an effort to encourage proper pronunciation, thus keeping all words and names as true to the language as possible. This, then, is a distinct effort from Masta towards decolonization; Masta has challenged the “academic circles,” and has successfully published a piece of oral history that remains true to the roots of the native peoples.
Furthermore, the foreword includes several examples of the “reasonable degree of systemization” used by Masta so as to teach the reader how to pronounce certain letter combinations unique to Abenaki. For example: “‘w’ preceding or following a consonant is equivalent to 'u' pronounced as 'oo' in English, "moon," the difference being that in Abenaki this sound is uttered with even a more marqed [sic] lip protrusion and weak breath” (Hallowell, 11). This is a vivid example of the author’s initial goal, which is to promote decolonization through language revival. In the aforementioned excerpt, the reader is instructed how to pronounce certain words through physical direction. This adds to revival efforts and challenges the norm of the more widely spoken languages.
In addition to traditional Abenaki words and grammar, Masta lists ecological titles and their origins. An example from “The Meaning of Indian Names of Rivers, Lakes Etc.” section of the dictionary follows:
NAHANT, Mass. This celebrated watering place is a part of the beautiful town of Lynn. It is a peninsula, jutting out about five miles into Massachusetts Bay and forms Lynn Bay on the south. Nahant means point. (Masta, 93)
Masta has taken his dictionary and threaded into it several legends of his people and stories of different battles amongst native tribes. For the first two parts of Abenaki Legends, the book reads much like a religious or historical text. In his work, “The Life and Traditions of the Red Man, Joseph Nicolar explains that, “Henry Lorne Masta, former Head Chief of the St. Francis Abenaki at Odanak, Quebec, included three separate stories of Abenaki-Iroquois entanglements in his Abenaki Legends, Grammar, and Place Names” (Nicolar, 85). In Anthropological Linguistics, an archive of languages from Indiana University’s Anthropology Department, Masta, along with Pierre Paul Osunkhirine and Chife Joseph Laurent, is described as, “A native author who produced translations, legends, and descriptions of language, in addition to religious materials for the use of both Catholics and Congregationalists” (Grant, 577). These accreditations affirm that Masta is both historically accurate in his retellings and respected in his religious inclusions. These additions are important because they further display Masta’s wide net of efforts to encourage an embrace of Abenaki culture.
One of the first of Masta’s legends that the reader encounters involves John Loden, an Abenaki, and his wife Mary Nigen, a Wawenock of Becancour, Quebec. In the legend, they are headed to Batiscan River near Rat River, Quebec, late one summer. Colin M. Coates, in his The Metamorphoses of Landscape and Community in Early Quebec, offers insight into the area’s past: “The origins of the word “Batiscan” are obscure, though it doubtless has an Amerindian derivation” (Coates, 14).In the introduction, Masta announces that the couple are from different tribes. Although they may have originated separately, they have come together as husband and wife. The writer also uses landscape to establish a geographical reference and a connection to the earth, strengthened by Coates’ research.
As John and Mary walk, they come across a cherry bush. While snacking, they encounter a big bull moose, which John shoots on the head with cherry stones. The moose leaves, uninjured but uninterested. As they continue, Mary explains to John that the moose was actually a sorcerer, “Remark what I say... Thou shalt see something more wonderful than this ere thou again comest to St-Francis River” (Masta, 44). Mary is warning John that he will see something spectacular before he returns to St-Francis River, foreshadowing the end of the story. After spending the winter “thereabouts” and “remained there until the latter part of the summer,” the duo begins the journey back the way they came. They eventually come to the cherry tree again, but it is different, elevated on a rock that is shaped like a “gourd.” When John climbs the rock and begins picking cherries, Mary soon hears him call for help. She runs up to his unconscious body and wakes him. “Just then the moose was walking away with the small elevation and the big cherry tree on his back and horns; at the same time John and Mary heard someone say: ‘Mary, Mary, John, Mary, Mary, John Loden, Mary Nigen” (Masta, 45). The story ends with Mary telling John that now he sees what a sorcerer can do. John responds, “It is so amazing that I can hardly believe it.”
There is literary intricacy involved in this story, which is meant to illustrate the interconnectivity between different peoples, as well as their connection with the earth. Through John and Mary’s travels and the landmarks mentioned, the story displays the relationship that humans share with earth and nature: people live in tandem with the earth, and it is where all life begins and ends. Descriptive language aids in the symbolism: the gourd is symbolic of the fruitfulness of nature and its ability to sustain life. The physical difference in the land, the “elevation,” symbolizes the malleability of nature and represents change as inevitable. The aggression of the moose is symbolic of the force of nature and its ability to fight back after being mistreated, so unstoppable and awesome that humans, like John, can hardly believe it. Through the combination of extensive language use (the story is presented in both Abenaki and in English), Masta promotes the use of native language, while at the same time passing on and revitalizing a legend of Abenaki culture and ideals of the native people even to non-speakers.
In conclusion, Henry Lorne Masta’s Abenaki Legends, Grammar, and Place Names serves not only as a dictionary of an imperiled language, but as a tool of revitalization of a culture, and decolonization through the expression of linguistic mechanics and the retelling of timeless legends. In The Oxford Handbook of Indigenous American Literature, author James Howard Cox credits Masta for revitalizing the Abenaki language:
Finally, a number of Native writers in the Northeast published or composed books, journals, and documents in their Indigenous languages, enabling, perhaps without knowing it, the revitalization movements of the late twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Odenak Abenaki writers, including Peter Paul Wzôkhilain, Joseph Laurent, and Henry Lorne Masta, published awikhiganak, Western Abenaki language books, designed for teaching their students English. These works are being used today by language teachers, creative writers, and community members on both sides of the border to continue an endangered language that has survived centuries of colonization (Cox 552).
With the inevitability of further decline among Abenaki speakers and therefore the language itself, it is authors and scholars like Henry Lorne Masta that can be credited with succeeding in resuscitating a struggling culture. In their determined and unwavering efforts, Masta and his peers have also inspired future generations to continue the work.
Brooks, Lisa Tanya. The Common Pot: The Recovery of Native Space in the Northeast. U of Minnesota Press, 2008.
Coates, Colin M. The Metamorphoses of Landscape and Community in Early Quebec. McGill-Queens Press, 2000.
Cox, James Howard, James H. Cox, and Daniel Heath Justice. The Oxford Handbook of Indigenous American Literature. Oxford University Press, 2014.
Grant, Anthony P. "Review of Western Abenaki Dictionary, Volume 1: Abenaki-English; Volume 2: English-Abenaki by Gordon M. Day." Anthropological Linguistics. 38.3 (1996): 576-8. JSTOR. Web. 14 August 2015.
Masta, Henry Lorne. Abenaki Indian Legends, Grammar and Place Names. La Voix des boisfrancs, 1932.
Nicolar, Joseph. The Life and Traditions of the Red Man: A Rediscovered Treasure of Native American Literature. Duke University Press, 2007.
]]>This hat basket, one that would have been sold to tourists, nicely illustrates Abenaki basketry's functional and aesthetic appeal. The chain link design on the lid, a common design on many baskets, represents friendship (Hopkinton Historical Society). The inside of the basket is lined with newspaper, a common practice at the time, and serves a purely functional purpose (Fitzgerald 52). Although various words can be read from the print, the basket overtakes the newspaper as the "text" through its continuance of Abenaki culture and tradition (Fitzgerald 52).
The earliest baskets were used for carrying items and storage. However, beginning in the nineteenth century, an influx of tourists into northern New England turned this tradition into a way to earn a living. As authentic Native-made baskets became more fashionable. their design changed. They went from simple, understated containers to brightly colored affairs designed to draw consumers' attention.
When visitors to New England were shelling out cash for authentic Native American-made baskets, they wanted what they envisioned as the full Native experience. Some Abenaki families, like that of Maurice Dennis, donned stereotypically “Indian” looking clothing expressly to sell their wares (McMullen 32). Cultural observers, and basketmakers themselves, have mixed feelings about these accommodations. One Native anthropologist, Lisa Neuman, has expressed concern about the damage done to Native cultures and economies when basketmakers are forced "into the expected stereotypical roles of indigenous 'craftspeople'” (90). In Maine, Neuman observers, voters roundly defeated a Wabanaki proposal to build a casino for economic self-sufficiency. In Neuman's assessment, non-Native citizens expected Wabanaki people to "'stay quietly on our reservations'. . . passive and docile rather than full participants in Maine’s economy” (91).
Art historian Joan Lester details these aesthetic changes: “Basket weavers were already accustomed to accommodating their craft to non-Indian tastes and styles. By the 1860s, round, covered ash-splint baskets with splints of varying widths, swabbed with color, were being made by Penobscot weavers [in Maine]. Modeled after hat boxes and bandboxes, these baskets were sought after for their practical as well as aesthetic qualities. And the weavers seem to have understood what would appeal to this new tourist market.”
On the other hand, some basketmakers use their art directly to combat stereotypical attitudes. Gail Tremblay (Onondaga/Mi'kmaq) makes baskets out of a material that is arguably a prime source of many contemporary stereotypes: film stock. She effectively “us[es] film against its cultural grain to build an indigenous object for preservation” (Cohen 176). Similarly, Judy Dow (Abenaki) makes baskets out of materials including recycled gum wrappers and pantyhose as a way of commenting on the depletion of natural resources on which her people--and all people--depend. Moreover, Dow asserts, adaptation is a way of ensuring that "basketry techniques will live on and then so will our heritage."
Cohen, Matt. The Networked Wilderness: Communicating in Early New England. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2010.
Fitzgerald, Stephanie. "The Cultural Work of a Mohegan Painted Basket." Early Native Literacies in New England. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2008. 52-56. Print.
Lester, Joan. "We Didn't Make Fancy Baskets Until We Were Discovered." In Ann McMullen and Russell Handsman, eds.,. A Key Into the Language of Woodsplint Baskets. Washington, CT: Institute for American Indian Studies, 1987. 42-53.
Neuman, Lisa K. "Basketry as Economic Enterprise and Cultural Revitalization: The Case of the Wabanaki Tribes of Maine." Wicazo Sa Review (25)2. 2010. 89-106.
Jason Mancini, a senior researcher at the Mashantucket Pequot Museum and Research Center, attributes the relative scarcity of Native medical remedies in the historical record to “fear, misunderstanding, and subsequent mischaracterization of Native beliefs,” as well as to the arrogance of European colonial physicians. He adds, “in spite of the fact that many North American plants became part of the Euro-American ‘medicine chest,’ Indians were seldom given credit for ‘discovering’ their uses.”
What prompted Occom to make this unusual record? Joanna Brooks says that the death of Occom’s father, Joshua, in 1743 “fully ushered Samson into his responsibilities as an adult member of his family, kinship network and tribe. These weighty new responsibilities and his sense of the imperilment of Mohegan territory generated in Occom ‘a great Inclination’ . . . to improve his reading and writing skills” (14). Meanwhile, English settlers brought diseases that proved disastrous to Native communities. According to Brooks, Occom developed a close relationship with a Montaukett man named Ocus, who taught him how to treat the eyestrain that plagued him during his study with Eleazar Wheelock. Ocus also shared over 50 additional herbal and root medicines useful for a wide range of ailments and purposes, from treating burns and digestive complaints to serving reproductive health and contraception. Perhaps Occom felt a record of these medicines should be left for survivors. After all, that is really what we learn from all of his writings—a constant sense of obligation or desire to regenerate the Mohegan tribe.
But the herbal diary is often cryptic. It appears Occom purposely avoids any issue concerning the science of growing, discovery, and the timeliness in gathering of the herbs. Perhaps the diary was a ruse to satisfy the colonists’ curiosity about medicinal cures from plants. Or perhaps he felt this knowledge was being effectively kept by Mohegan women who could read between the lines. In an email exchange in April of 2012, Melissa Tantaquideon Zobel, the current medicine woman and tribal historian, stated, “In Mohegan tradition women were the healers, which suggests gender issues may have come into play here in the denigration of indigenous medicine just as they did in old Europe.” Thus, in those places where Occom does not even name the herb or weed used in a specific cure, perhaps he was relying on the fact that the older generation instructed the young women which seed to plant for what, verbally transmitting their instructions for how medicine was to be prepared.
Samson Occom’s recording of these remedies marks the beginning of a Mohegan ethnobotanical literary tradition that continues to this day, from Medicine Woman Gladys Tantaquidgeon’s scholarly treatise to the historical writings and novels of her protégé and descendant, Melissa Tantaquidgeon Zobel. These writings blend both Mohegan and Euro-colonial traditions to preserve and promote indigenous knowledge.
The very fact that they are written, and written in English (Tantaquidgeon adds botanical Latin), is a shift in traditional Mohegan ways of imparting knowledge. Mohegan medicine people were and are thoroughly trained by elders, following them as they gather herbs and listening carefully to their knowledge. They would not necessarily need to write this knowledge down, and they might not even want to, because wild plant populations are vulnerable to over collection, misuse and (as Winona LaDuke explains) biopiracy. Tantaquidgeon frames her Mohegan pharmacopeia by cautioning, “pick only what you need and leave some in reserve. The Indian practiced conservation in its true meaning” (68-69).
Occom’s notebook therefore gives very few specifics. His entry (#29) for wintergreen, for example, calls of “wintergreen and another herbe.” He uses English standards of measurement (“3 quarts of water”), but doesn’t reveal other things: at what time does one pick wintergreen? When it is a sprout, fully grown or drying out? On this same remedy, Tantaquidgeon says simply that wintergreen tea is “a warming beverage and a kidney medicine” (72). These omissions urge those seeking cures to look towards more knowledgeable sources, like the tribes, for help. They are a way of protecting traditional ecological knowledge even while they document the value of the cures. In the time Occom was writing that value was also monetary. Occom says he paid Ocus “in all 27 York money” for the information.
This hybrid text connects readers to Mohegan herbal knowledge, but is also indicative of a more complex relationship, one with the utmost respect for the earth. In order for herbal medicine to be practiced successfully we must follow the ways of the Mohegans in order to sustain the land that serves us.
Brooks, Joanna, The Collected Writings of Samson Occom, Mohegan Edited by Joanna Brooks
Dartmouth University Archives, Rauner Special Collections Library
Fawcett, Melissa Jayne. The Lasting of the Mohegans: Part I, The Story of the Wolf People. Uncasville, CT: The Mohegan Tribe, 1995.
Melissa Tantaquidgeon Zobel. Medicine Trail: The Life and Lessons of Gladys Tantaquidgeon. University of Arizona Press, 2000.
LaDuke, Winona. “The Political Economy of Wild Rice.” Multinational Monitor 25, no. 4 (April 2004): 27–29.
Occom, Samson. The Collected Writings of Samson Occom, Mohegan: Literature and Leadership in Eighteenth-Century Native America. Edited by Joanna Brooks. Oxford University Press, USA, 2006.
Tantaquidgeon, Gladys. Folk Medicine of the Delaware and Related Algonkian Indians. Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission,1972.
]]>This ash splint yarn basket, dating to 1760, is one of the earliest baskets in our online archive. It is also one of the earliest known Penacook baskets. The early date is notable because most baskets around today are of a later date. Part of the Hopkinton Historical Society collection, this basket once held a label that read, "Ball Basket for Knitting Work/ Date 1760" and indicates that the basket would have been used as a holding place for yarn (Hopkinton Historical Society). Additionally, a piece, meant to hold knitting needles, is missing. Splints of different sizes make up the rotund shape of the basket. Several splints are dyed black with a natural dye. Despite fading, red and yellow dye is evident on some of the splints. This basket boasts a friendship chain around the lid and at various points around its midsection (Hopkinton Historical Society). (The friendship chain is also present in another basket within this archive.) The basket boasts an equal mix of utilitarian purpose and aesthetic design. In other words, it fulfills both the functions of utility and decoration. This basket and others like it are a testament to the continuing presence of the Abenaki people long after they are said to have disappeared from New Hampshire. Much earlier than the popular fancy baskets of the late 1800s, the basket is a precursor that emphasizes the longstanding Abenaki tradition of basket making.
The early date of this basket indicates that the Abenaki adapted economically much sooner than the fancy basket period: “Beginning in the 1700s, making and selling baskets and other traditional art forms became a means of survival that still allowed for the freedom to continue traditional ways” (Mundell 25). Not only were they selling utilitarian baskets to farmers but were creating more specialized baskets to fill specific needs such as this particular basket for yarn. Most baskets do not have such an early date because baskets were utilitarian in purpose: they were not preserved.
The tradition of making baskets as well as the stories that accompany the process are just as important as the physical object itself. While the presence of the physical basket reminds the younger generation about their ancestors, the actual process forms a deeper connection because they are performing the same acts as their ancestors (Mundell). The time, effort, and talent needed in creating the baskets leave a lasting effect. Baskets are an important aspect of Abenaki culture that underscores the tribe's adaptability and survival.
For a long time, Abenaki people were hidden from mainstream vision and baskets such as this one help to reaffirm the continued presence of their culture and traditions. This basket emphasizes that the Abenaki people were not simply making baskets for profit. The designs and materials have a context that transforms this basket into a text that can be read. It expresses that while Abenaki basketmakers altered the specific types of baskets they made, they continued to express traditional and perhaps historical messages through their baskets. The functional aspect of baskets does not diminish its power of communication (Fitzgerald).
"Digital Collection: Abenaki Knitting Basket." Memorial Hall Museum Online. Pocumtuck Valley Memorial Association, 2008. Web. 30 May 2012.
Fitzgerald, Stephanie. "The Cultural Work of a Mohegan Painted Basket." Early Native Literacies in New England. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2008. 52-56. Print.
Mundell, Kathleen. North by Northeast: Wabanaki, Akwesasne Mohawk, and Tuscarora Traditional Arts. Tilbury House Publishers, 2008. Print.
Rasmussen, Birgit Brander. Queequeg’s Coffin: Indigenous Literacies and Early American Literature. Duke University Press Books, 2012. Print.
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In 1820, the Missouri Compromise declared Maine an independent state; the Penobscot Indians faced loss of land in direct violation to the 1790 Trade and Non-intercourse Act. The Trade and Non-intercourse Act was meant to protect Indian lands on a federal level, and other treaties also made by the Penobscot with the former Commonwealth of Massachusetts in 1796 and 1818 were meant to help establish reservation lands.
On August 17, 1820—a mere nine years before the Penobscot Land Claims Petition—the Maine signed a new treaty with the Penobscot people, effectively releasing the Commonwealth from their former agreements with the Native Americans of Maine. Only three of the four tribes in Maine, the Penobscot, the Maliseet, and the Micmac, signed this treaty. The Passamaquoddy people, the last of the four tribes comprising the Wabanaki people of Maine, were the only tribe to not sign the treaty.
Maine was and remains a border state with the territory that is now modern-day Canada. Maine was formed before the American Civil War and during a time when there was still significant tension between American, French, and English settlers. There was a drive to lay claim to the largely unknown interior and fringe areas of Maine. As property as a form of power grew, the demand for ownership of the new, rich areas in Maine became a goal for the white settlers. The Penobscot people had already given up vast areas of tribal land to the government of Maine when the 1829 petition was written, and the document sought to voice their concerns about losing the diminished portion that they had left.
As seen in the 1829 petition, the additional transfer of Penobscot lands when so much had been “sold” (or forcibly handed over already), was quietly responded to as an outrageous notion. The Penobscot people’s first argument was that the State of Maine had a large quantity of wild lands that the Penobscot and other Native Americans of Maine ceded to them. Those lands had thus far been relatively unused and the Penobscot compromised by offering that once all the land was used up then they would gladly share with their white neighbors. The Penobscot wrote that “Till this is the case, leave us this little pittance, the miserable remains [still in their possession]. The wording in this section of the petition was likely crafted to dissuade the government from taking more of their land and show the “pittance” or “miserable remains” were inadequate, not worth the effort to obtain from the Penobscot.
One of the substantial concerns the Penobscot people had was that if they were to continue selling their land in Maine, there would be no land remaining for future generations. The Penobscot relied on the land’s resources for sustenance and to keep their traditional practices of hunting and fishing alive. In the petition, it is highlighted that through settlement of Penobscot territory—that was supposedly theirs to govern and call home—a fish trap was destroyed, and white settlers stole previously harvested and stored provisions from their land. By bringing attention to these struggles, the Penobscot people attempted to obviate any further dispossession.
Throughout the petition, the Penobscot continually maintain that they are willing to work with the terms of the white people in order to come to a common understanding. In reference to building a tavern on a military road so white men had a place to stop along their travels, the Penobscot were very willing to make “such men to be accommodated.” The Penobscot also point to the fact they anticipated the white settlers would ask for more taverns along the road when they complain that one is not enough. The Penobscot refer to the white people as their “brothers” and “brethren,” recognizing certain equality between them, and are taken aback by the whites not treating them the same respect and understanding. In the closing lines of the petition the Penobscot write: “We have been faithful to our white brethren and all we ask in return, is, that their contract towards us should be just and reasonable.”
In 1833, four years following the 1829 Penobscot Indian Land Claims Petition, a controversial sale of some of the remaining Penobscot lands took place. It is said that a number of the Penobscot tribal members who signed the treaty did not understand exactly what they were giving up when they did so. Further loss of Penobscot land took place and 100,000 acres of land was sold, leaving only 5,000 acres in the ownership of the tribe. It was not until over a century later, in accordance with the Maine Indian Claims Settlement Act of 1980, that the Penobscot and other Wabanaki tribes in Maine were compensated for the unlawful disposition of their tribal lands.
What is perhaps most troubling—and perhaps most worth noting—is this thought of the intent to gain possession of tribal lands at all costs. That the Penobscot people signed away land unintentionally is further testament to the settlers’ avarice and disrespect toward not only the Penobscot, but many other tribes at this time. Such documents as this petition are central to our discussions of reclamation and land rights and are worth excavating for the richness of culture and context they provide.
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This basket, by Denise Pouliot, showcases a combination of sweetgrass and ash splint. Behind its deceptively simple yet beautiful design is the story of Abenaki basketmaking tradition. Abenaki basketmaking is more than a hobby, it is a way of life that emphasizes various aspects of Abenaki culture: family and friends, the teaching of the next generation, and sustainability. As an Abenaki basket maker, Denise Pouliot embodies all three.
Denise Pouliot is treasurer and member of the Cowasuck Band of the Pennacook Abenaki ("Band Council Leaders"). Through their newsletters and educational programs, the band seeks to serve their people while informing the broader public about accurate indigenous history ("Goals Statement."). In 2009, Denise and Paul Pouliot began to learn Abenaki basketmaking under Sherry and Bill Gould (Pouliot, "Basket Apprentice Program" 9). While Denise Pouliot focused on basketmaking with Sherry Gould, Paul Pouliot focused on four aspects of preparing the material: "how to identify black or brown 'basket' ash in the forest, how to prepare and pound the log, split the splint, and to prepare the finished splint for the basket maker" (9). Together, Denise and Paul Pouliot illustrate the communal process of basketmaking (9). There are many steps to preparing a finished basket and each one is as necessary as the next (9). As part of the apprenticeship, Denise Pouliot learned to make various natural splint dyes:
Black Walnut Husks - Brown Dye
Pokeberries - Fuchsia
Blackberries - Light Purple
Goldenrod - Light Yellow (Pouliot, "Basket Apprentice Program Continued" 7)
Denise Pouliot often demonstrates her basketmaking at various events, such as at the Mt. Kearsage Indian Museum and at various craft fairs (Pouliot, "Basket making Activities" 5). At the 2010 Mt. Kearsarge Indian Museum Winter Celebration, "Denise Pouliot had a Christmas tree decoration demonstration with a tree setup with a dozen or so traditionally made ornaments with a large ash tree topping star" ("Mt. Kearsarge Indian Museum" 5). The attendees were able to make their own ornaments to take home, which encouraged them to appreciate the skill and effort required to make a basket (5). These types of events continue the basketmaking tradition while also bringing attention to Abenaki culture.
Like the ash splints of a basket, each individual basket maker is important but their strength is only increased through collaboration with others. As each ash splint is woven together to increase its strength and durability, so too do basket makers collaborate with others to strengthen their bonds and perpetuate Abenaki culture.
Denise and Paul Pouliot often collaborate with other Abenaki artisans and have even spoken of creating an Abenaki Artisan Collaborative ("Abenaki Artisan Collaborative."). The collaboration also includes other areas of Abenaki culture. The cover (Shown Below) of the language book, L8dwaw8gan Wji Abaznodakaw8gan: The Language of Basket Making by Jesse Bruchac, is a photograph of one of Denise Pouliot's baskets who was honored to have it included ("Book Review" 14). Pouliot has also participated in various Abenaki language camps that combine both language and baskets: "As part of the language camp, each afternoon was dedicated to ash splint basket making ("Abenaki Language Camp" 6). The students of the language camp also learned various basket making terms. For example, ida ni aln8ba8dwa means basket making and abaznodaal means a basket made of ash (Bruchac 12). By using basketmaking terms in Abenaki, the language camps combine two aspects of Abenaki culture that were once in danger of being lost. The many Abenaki basket makers and students of language that go to these events make that no longer the case. These language camps accomplish a variety of goals. First, they generate an interest in speaking the Abenaki language (Pouliot, "Abenaki Language Camp" 6). Second, they bring attention to basketmaking as a way of learning a language and illustrate that they are both linked together in Abenaki culture (6). Third, they foster a sense of community amongst those of Abenaki heritage and encourage the younger generations to get excited about their culture (6).
As important as it is to make baskets and learn Abenaki, it is far more important to demonstrate the process of basket making and teach the language so as "to pass on these traditions to our next seven generations" ("The Speaker Speaks" 14). Events and demonstrations help to ensure that various Abenaki traditions and the language will not be lost.
"Band Council Leaders." Cowasuck Band of the Pennacook Abenaki People. Cowass North America, n.d. Web. 3 Feb. 2013.
Bruchac, Jesse. "Say That in Abenaki." Aln8bak News Jan-Feb-March. 2010: 12.
"Goals Statement." Cowasuck Band of the Pennacook Abenaki People. Cowass North America, n.d. Web. 3 Feb. 2013.
Pouliot, Paul. "Abenaki Artisan Collaborative." Aln8bak News Oct-Nov-Dec. 2009: 6.
---. "Abenaki Language Camp." Aln8bak News April-May-June. 2010: 6.
---. "Basket Apprentice Program." Aln8bak News July-Aug-Sept. 2009: 9.
---. "Basket Apprentice Program Continued." Aln8bak News Oct-Nov-Dec. 2009: 7.
---. "Basket Making Activities." Aln8bak News April-May-June. 2010: 5.
---. "Book Review." Aln8bak News Jan-Feb-March. 2010: 14.
---. "Mt. Kearsarge Indian Museum." Aln8bak News Oct-Nov-Dec. 2010: 5.
---. "The Speaker Speaks." Aln8bak News July-Aug-Sept. 2009: 14.
Photographs by Joshua Trott
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