We asked veteran professor, fieldworker, syntactician and contrarian Henry Davis, who has won multiple awards this year, to reflect on his recent work and experiences. True to form, his responses involve Mink (Qayx̌) the Coast Salish trickster, a clown pratfall at a church altar, and a combination of optimism, determination and imminent loss regarding the fates of Indigenous languages in BC.
Tell us about the talk you gave at the 2024 meeting of the Canadian Linguistics Association, as part of accepting the ACL/CLA’s National Achievement Award. … We hear you gave it from a pulpit?
The 2024 conference was held at Carleton University’s Dominion-Chalmers Centre, which turns out to include the still intact Dominion-Chalmers United Church, complete with fully functioning (and fully resonating) pipe organ. As usual, I was writing my talk during the conference itself, and found a nice little cubby-hole in which to work when I wasn’t attending talks. What I did not know was on the other side of the wall was the church’s organ – and I nearly jumped out of my skin when all of a sudden Bach’s Toccata and Fugue blasted into my ear at heavy-metal decibel levels. Despite the Phantom of the Opera-esque sound track, I finished my talk a full half hour before I had to give it.
Interior of Carleton’s Dominion-Chalmers United Church. Note the organ.
Dan Siddiqi of Carleton then offered to set me up in the room where I was to address the conference. I imagined it would be in the large-ish meeting room where they had held the business meeting. But it wasn’t – it was in the church itself, with the audience in the balcony and pews, and me pretty much right at the altar. I was given the choice of preaching from the pulpit or the floor; I chose the latter (which made me more of a revivalist preacher than a priest).
As I was being formally introduced, Jila Ghomeshi (President of the ACL/CLA) came rushing up to interrupt with an important announcement. Solemnly, she declared that Noam Chomsky had passed away. That’s a hard act to follow, and particularly at an altar. All I could think of doing was a pratfall (useful since my clowning days) to break the hushed silence. … The talk went okay. I finished, and Jila came rushing back up. It had all been a hoax – Chomsky had been confirmed still very much alive! And at that very moment, a ray of celestial light penetrated the cupola from above, illuminating the altar (and me).
…So that was the day I resurrected Chomsky.
Tell us about the PNWLL (Pacific NorthWest Languages and Literatures) Press. What have you most recently published and what’s in the works?
Our latest is a second book of narratives by Qwa7yán’ak (Carl Alexander), one of a handful of remaining fluent first language speakers of the Upper (Northern) dialect of St’át’imcets (a.k.a.Lillooet). The stories date from the beginning of time as the St’át’imc understood it, when the Transformers fixed the land and made it habitable for people, all the way to its end, with Qwa7yan’ák’s reflections on how climate change is making the land once again uninhabitable. The volume also covers much his personal history, beginning with an idyllic childhood in sQémqem’, the lost “land of plenty” in the Upper Bridge River valley; his displacement from his childhood home, now sixty feet underwater after the valley was drowned for a huge hydro development; his years of rootlessness and despair, leading to a crucial decision to choose life over death and a path of spiritual redemption; and his later life and work in the physically and emotionally demanding role of caring for the recently departed and their families and communities. The stories are told in St’át’imcets, and obviously something is lost in translation, but I think the English versions included in the volume still convey the wisdom Qwa7yanak’ acquired over the course of his long and at times traumatic journey through life. [..] This latest volume forms part of a long-term collaboration between myself and UBC alumnus John Lyon (PhD, 2013, now Assistant Professor at UBC-O) to compile an oral literature for St’át’imcets while we still have fluent speakers to work with.
Amongst the many other volumes that PNWLL has in the pipeline: Next up is a collection of traditional mink stories told in ʔayʔaǰuθəm and English by Tla’amin (Sliammon) elder Elsie Paul, now in her nineties. Mink (Qayx̌) is the trickster of the Coast Salish people; his adventures often involve him attempting to marry a preposterous collection of characters, including clouds, pitch, barnacles, and an eagle, with predictably disastrous results. Elsie is an expert storyteller, and these stories beautifully illustrate how humour is used to teach important life lessons in traditional Coast Salish society.
The PNWLL Press is currently run entirely on graduate student volunteer labour, with no steady source of funding. […] Any and all ideas for financing will be gratefully received, and of course donations are more than welcome.
Tell us about the St’at’imcets language degree-granting programs you’ve been involved with recently!
Under the leadership of UBC-O’s Jeannette Armstrong, who is a great champion not only of her own language, nsyilxcn (Okanagan) but of all Interior Salish languages, three degree-granting programs in Interior Salish have been established over the last five years — in nsyilxcn, nɬeʔkepmxcín, and St’át’imcets, with a fourth (Secwepemctsín) starting next year. … It’s a great initiative, but a quarter of a century overdue.
The main challenge [in establishing these programs] is the gap between the remaining fluent elders (all pushing 80 now, some in poor health) and the students (mostly two generations younger, with little language background but a lot of enthusiasm). That’s where people like me and Lisa (Matthewson) come in: we teach in the BSTM (Bachelor of St’át’imcets) program at UBC-O, and mentor teachers in the Certificate and Diploma programs at the Nicola Valley Institute of Technology (NVIT) which are prerequisites for entry into the UBC-O program. Our job is not only to teach, but to create resources, develop curriculum, and train our eventual replacement instructors so that the program can eventually be fully indigenized. It’s a lot, particularly given neither of us have a background in language education. Fortunately, the UBC Linguistics department has been very supportive: currently I’m teaching two thirds of my course load at UBC-O, so I can put in a fair amount of time to help develop the program.
Tell us about your father’s response to your winning a King Charles III Coronation Medal
Henry wearing his King Charles III Coronation Medal
My father is 101; as I write, sadly, he is slipping away, so this is a poignant moment. He has become an increasingly staunch monarchist as he has grown (very) old, whereas anyone who knows me even slightly will be aware I am not fond of inherited privilege. I accepted the medal, therefore, largely on his behalf. He was genuinely delighted, and there is a great picture of him staring intently if somewhat bemusedly at the online ceremony on Zoom from his home in England. I am happy to have given him this parting gift.
What are the biggest challenges your work is currently facing?
… You mean, aside from the collapse of civilization? Obviously, the imminent demise of all the languages I work on as first languages. But that doesn’t mean there will be nothing left to do: I actually think there’s a fascinating area of inquiry opening up in the transitional period between L1 and L2 status, with the languages undergoing rapid change as they take on a new life. But working on the languages will be different, and hard for me: I have been incredibly privileged to be able to work with the last generation of L1 speakers of several amazing languages, and it will be both a professional and a personal loss when that is no longer possible.
