Algonquin Sunset
Algonquin Sunset is a fantastic book! Incorporating accurate historic knowledge and language into the trilogy makes the books not only a great story but also an excellent learning tool.
MARTI FORD
Area 3 Superintendent
Frontier School Division
Manitoba
Revelle writes in a very oral style reminiscent of the storytellers of old: engaging stories combined with traditional teachings. Algonquin Sunset is a good read!
WILLY BRUCE
Oshkaabewis
Aboriginal Veterans Autochtones
To demonstrate the importance of the past so nicely depicted in your novel Algonquin Sunset, we would like to make this analogy: A gymnast has to take many steps backward to jump higher; so it is with humanity. To us it sums up your message. This is why it is so important not to forget where we come from, who we are, where we want to be, and what we want to leave for future generations. In most aspects of life, if we want to make the right decisions, we have to step back, analyze, and anticipate the potential results and consequences prior to jumping forward. Your novels I Am Algonquin, Algonquin Spring, and Algonquin Sunset have opened our eyes to this.
ANNIE SMITH ST-GEORGES AND ROBERT SMITH ST-GEORGES
Algonquin Elder, Traditional Practitioner, and Home Elder; Métis
National Arts Centre
Ottawa
In this installment of the Algonquin Quest Series, we are given a stark description of how life centred around teaching and learning skills associated with personal and tribal survival. Rick shows us the challenges of child-rearing in a time when a balance had to be established between looking after our children and teaching them while at the same time protecting our communities from the ever-present dangers. Rick also gives us a glimpse into how enemies were dealt with and the cruelty of these bloody conflicts. He reminds us that survival is never easy and sometimes is deadly to communities. This makes us better by helping us to understand the conflicts in our own world and to avoid the human destruction of life, as well as all our relations on Mother Earth.
ROBERT THIBEAU, CD
President
Aboriginal Veterans Autochtones
Reading this saga of what might have been prior to contact is very thought-provoking, and whenever I walk in the woods, I wonder if something like that might have happened along where I am walking. I just love it.
JOE WILMOT
Mi’gmaq Language and Cultural Coordinator
Listuguj, Quebec
I enjoyed reading our Lakota language in this novel, along with the ancient ways of my people.
ROB HER MANY HORSES
Substance Abuse Councellor, Outreach Worker, and Coordinator
Lower Brule Lake Sioux Reservation, South Dakota
To my friend, Rob Her Many Horses, may your Lakhˇóta aíčhimani bring many rewards in this life
and
To my mother, Iona Revelle, a feisty little Native woman who lives life to the fullest
and
In memory of the Dakota 38
Author’s Note
Both the Lakȟóta and Ojibwe languages are like the Algonquin language in that they are spoken less and less by their people. In this novel I have introduced these two languages, hoping that maybe just a little bit will stay with readers.
In the following pages of this Author’s Note, I give thanks to the people and organizations that enabled me to bring the pronunciations of each Native dialect to this book. I will always remain appreciative of the work put into saving these languages on the World Wide Web for future generations to educate themselves. I ask readers when they find the time to please have a look at the Ojibwe People’s Dictionary (http://ojibwe.lib.umn.edu) and the Mi’kmaq Online Talking Dictionary (www.mikmaqonline.org). Both are very informative and educational.
Unless we were physically involved in producing the two aforementioned websites, we could never know how much research, people hours, money, and discussion went into such endeavours to get the end results we see today. Both of the websites are continually updated.
Once readers see the Anishinaabe-Ojibwe language, they will notice many similarities to the Algonquin language in spelling and meanings. However, there are enough differences between the two that I have included them as separate glossaries at the end of this book.
When I couldn’t find a certain word either phonetically spelled out or pronounced on one of my talking dictionary sites, I didn’t provide a pronunciation guide for that word. I will never put in print any of the pronunciations of the Native dialects I use in my books without first hearing the words sounded out or seeing them phonetically spelled.
When different tribes met and conversed, they used sign language along with their oral languages. Throughout this novel, whenever two or three different linguistic nations talk together, try to picture that they are using sign language along with their oral languages. Native tribes that were allies quickly learned each other’s languages, and even enemies were able to converse because many times, they had captives from each other’s villages who became part of the tribe and acted as interpreters.
This book is fiction; however, the ways the characters live, hunt, harvest, and wage war are as accurate as I can find in all the research I have done, along with the many hours of reading other writers’ works about the Ojibwe and Lakȟóta Nations. Conversations with Elders and young people of the Native nations I write about have led me in the proper direction.
Many of the experiences I write about that take place in the woods and while canoeing are related to events I have encountered myself. Although I’m not a hunter, when I was growing up, members of my immediate family took me hunting and fishing. Friends such as Larry Porter and Al Whitfield, who are good storytellers and hunters, gave me the foundation to write about some of their present-day encounters that are generational in practice.
As always, I would like to thank my Mohawk friend, Eddie Maracle, for his knowledge of two important subjects that aided me greatly in the writing of my novels. His skill with computers as an IT expert and his knowledge of his ancestral Mohawk language were immensely helpful in my writing.
Garth Firth, a close friend who travelled with me to Manitoulin Island in the spring of 2014, couldn’t figure out why I would give up four days of golf to visit every museum on Manitoulin Island. Now he knows!
As in my two previous books in the Algonquin Quest series — I Am Algonquin and Algonquin Spring — the Algonquin family of Mahingan (Wolf) plays a major role in this novel.
In I Am Algonquin and Algonquin Spring, I didn’t include phonic pronunciations for Native words. For Algonquin Sunset, however, I now had the capability to do so. In the two previous novels, I didn’t have research materials to allow me to break down the pronunciation of a word for all of the Native languages I used. So I made the decision that if I couldn’t do the phonic separation of a word for all the languages, I wouldn’t do it for just one. It was a matter of being consistent in my approach to these Native languages.
As of September 2016, by way of all my research findings, I now have the ability to address the pronunciation hurdles of the past. The first time a Native word or name appears in this novel, the pronunciation and meaning follow it; after that, when the word occurs again, it doesn’t have this information but those details can still be accessed in the glossaries at the end of the book. There were still words that I was unable to find pronunciations for and in those cases I didn’t guess in print how to sound them out. Such words appear without pronunciations.
For the Lakȟóta language I used three sources. The first source and the one
seen in the main body of the novel is the English–Lakȟóta Dictionary compiled by J.K. Hyeriand and W.S. Starij’ing of the University of Pittsburgh. The Lakȟóta words from that dictionary are easily pronouncable due to by the separation of syllables and the use of phonics. The second source I used is the Dakota Dictionary by John P. Williamson, a missionary on the Santee Reservation who lived from 1835 to 1917. He produced his dictionary in 1902. The third resource I used is the Lakȟóta Dictionary Online. Its Lakȟóta words aren’t as easily pronounceable at first glance, but when the Hyeriand and Starij’ing dictionary words are placed alongside, pronunciation is straightforward employing their method. Further encounters with these words can be accessed in the glossaries for reference.
For the Anishinaabe language, I used A Concise Dictionary of Minnesota Ojibwe, produced by John D. Nichols from the Department of Native Studies, Department of Linguistics, University of Manitoba in Winnipeg, and by Earl Nyholm from the Department of Modern Linguistics, Bemidji State University in Minnesota. I also referenced the Freelang Ojibwe Online Dictionary and the Ojibwe People’s Dictionary. For the Anishinaabe language, I added phonetic pronunciations when I could find the spoken word from the Ojibwe People’s Dictionary, which has an online talking dictionary. The pronunciations are my interpretation of how I perceive the words to be spoken by Anishinaabe speakers.
For the Mi’kmaq language, I also added phonetic pronunciations taken from the Online Listuguj Talking Dictionary. Again the pronunciations are my interpretation of how I perceive the words as spoken by Mi’kmaq speakers.
For the Ojibwe People’s Dictionary, to the staff and students at the University of Minnesota College of Liberal Arts, American Indian Studies Department, my heartfelt congratulations on such an excellent job of preserving the Anishinaabe language!
For the Mi’kmaq Online Talking Dictionary, I would like to thank the people of the Listuguj community in the Gespe’g Territory of the Mi’kmaq along the Restigouche River on the southwest shore of the Gaspé Peninsula for such a wonderful gift of the Mi’kmaq language to all the peoples on Turtle Island and beyond. As I went from just seven words and two sentences in 1997 to what you see now, the hard work of Sean Haberlin, Eunice Metallic, Diane Mitchell, Watson Williams, Joe Wilmot, and Dave Ziegler will forever be appreciated by this author.
For the Algonquin-Omàmiwinini language, I have used three main sources for my Native words. The first one — the Algonquin Lexicon, prepared by Ernest McGregor for the Kitigan Zibi Education Council in 1994 — has been with me for all three Algonquin Quest novels. To be able to pronounce the words, I accessed two websites: The Algonquin Way Cultural Centre, administered by the Algonquins of Pikwakangan First Nation, where some of the words are pronounced but all are phonetically spelled out (see www.thealgonquinway.ca); and a talking dictionary produced by the Algonquins of Golden Lake and the Renfrew County Roman Catholic Separate School Board in 1997. The words were spoken by the students at St. James School in Eganville, Ontario (see www.hilaroad.com/camp/nation/speak.html). The third resource was created by Wayne Campbell with the assistance of Suzanne Polson, Gene Cada, Carol Bob, Mike Porte, and Valerie Smith.
Special thanks go out to John Beheler, the executive director of the Dakota Indian Foundation in Chamberlain, South Dakota. Also thanks to two wonderful Lakȟóta friends and acquaintances: Jera Brous-Koster and Rob Her Many Horses from the Lower Brule Sioux Reservation in South Dakota. Their guidance and responses to my questions always led me in the right direction.
I also want to thank Judy Harbour of the Lake of the Woods Ojibway Cultural Centre in Kenora, Ontario, for help with some translations of the Anishinaabe language.
Thanks also to Wade Miller, who works for the Parks and Trails Area of the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources. Wade was able to give me the information I needed about the junction of the Crow Wing River and the Mississippi River. The information he provided me with about water flow and the surrounding landscape at this confluence was invaluable to me for a pivotal part of this novel.
My deepest appreciation goes out to two young Anishinaabe women who in 2015 were Grade 6 students at Walpole Island Elementary School, where I visited in February of that year to talk about I Am Algonquin. Tymmiecka Johnston and Jaelyn Black Bird asked what my Native name was. When I told them I hadn’t yet been given one, they smiled and said that they would come up with one for me. Later, in the cafeteria that day, they came to me and honoured me with an Anishinaabe name and clan. I was now part of the Ma’iingan–Wolf Clan and my name was Mashkawiz Mahingan Inini, pronounced mash-ka-we-zee ma-hin-gan in-in-e.
The two young ladies live on the Walpole Island Reserve–Bkejwanong. The school, Walpole Island Elementary, is full of bright, smiling, and energetic Native students guided by a dedicated group of teachers in a spotlessly clean environment. All the students are fed breakfast and lunch each day free of charge, and this is all done with $4,000 less (2015) per child than for a student in the public school system.
I am deeply indebted to Michael Carroll, my publisher’s editor for Algonquin Sunset. His passion made this book a much better novel than I could have imagined. He understood the “Native Way” and acknowledged the traditions and cultural aspects of my writing.
Lastly, I want to thank my local Kingston editor, Anne Holley-Hime, who had to put up with almost three hundred pages of hard-copy manuscript each for Algonquin Spring and Algonquin Sunset, which I handed her, asking her to make me look good. The first time I met Anne she asked me to email her the manuscript, and I replied, “I don’t work that way from the first draft.” So thanks, Anne, for braving the world of paper cuts and page turning from the last century. But in the end she was able to experience all these new Native languages. Good editors are hard to find, and she is good!
During the early 1300s, two migrations took place that began to reshape the Native map in the Great Lakes region of North America. Coming from the east and the present-day Gulf of St. Lawrence, a group who called themselves the Anishinaabe, which means the “Original People,” settled around what is now Sault Ste. Marie. Another faction during that time migrated from the Lower Mississippi Valley toward what is currently Minnesota. They called themselves the Lakȟóta, which means “Friends.”
Over the next five hundred years these two great tribes became two of the largest and fiercest in the Midwest and Great Lakes areas. The histories of both Canada and the United States were boldly shaped by the leaders of these celebrated Native nations. Much blood, both Native and white, stained the lands they lived on before the Europeans wrested their territories from them with war, intimidation, coercion, and lies.
The Anishinaabe are known as the Chippewa in the United States and as the Ojibwe in Canada, names given to them by the French. In this novel, for clarity, they are referred to as the Anishinaabe. After the Anishinaabe settled around Lake Superior, they broke off into three distinct tribes in later years, with the Ojibwe-Chippewa remaining in the Lake Superior region and the Odawa settling around Manitoulin Island, in Southwestern Ontario, and in northern Michigan. The third group, the Potawatomi, moved into the Lower Michigan Peninsula.
After the split from where they had originally settled in the Straits of Mackinac, these three tribes remained allies and fought many future wars together. They became known as the Council of Three Fires. When the French arrived on the continent, the Council was their ally until the French surrender to the British at the end of the Seven Years’ War in 1763. The British then used the Council as a buffer against the Americans. During the War of 1812, these three nations were the main reason Canada didn’t fall into U.S. hands. The British had neither the military force nor the ability to defend the country, the Natives supplied the needed warriors to win the war, but in the end they still lost their lands to the bullying and deceit of the land-grabbers of the British Empire.
The Lakȟóta, also known as the Dakota and Teton Sioux, settled in the lands next to the
Anishinaabe and became their merciless enemies for hundreds of years. Strangely enough, even though Dakota translates into “Friend” or “Ally,” they were neither to the Anishinaabe. The Lakȟóta were known as the Nadowessioux (Snake) to the Anishinaabe, while the Lakȟóta called the Anishinaabe the Ȟaȟátȟuŋwaŋ (ha-ha-ton-wan).
In the late seventeenth century, the Anishinaabe obtained firearms by trading with the French and the Hudson’s Bay Company. During this time, the French began to settle in the Lakȟóta lands. The combination of French settlers and the Ojibwe obtaining guns became a focal point that caused the Lakȟóta to start an exodus into the plains of the Midwest. During this time, all the Plains and Woodland Natives depended on dogs as beasts of burden for hunting and as sentries, with some families owning as many as forty to fifty dogs. Then, in the 1690s, the horse appeared in the Plains Native culture with the southwestern tribes, the Apache and the Comanche, who stole horses from the Spanish. They called this animal the “sacred dog.” The coming of the horse changed Lakȟóta life immensely, creating a thriving horse culture around 1730. Once that occurred, the Lakȟóta overcame the powerful Arikara (Sahnish), who had been weakened by smallpox epidemics between 1771 and 1781, reducing their strength from thirty villages to two. With this powerful new animal, the Lakȟóta drove the Cheyenne (Tsžhéstáno) and Crow (Apsáalooke) from their traditional lands and were able to control most of the other Plains tribes. The Lakȟóta split into seven groups and became the dominant horse society force of the Great Plains, and it took all the might of the U.S. Army to defeat them in the late 1800s.
The seven bands of the Lakȟóta were the following:
Oglála: They Scatter Their Own or Dust Scatters
Sichángu or Brulé: Burnt Thighs
Húnkpapa: End of the Circle