The Languages and Linguistics of Indigenous North America: A Comprehensive Guide [Vol. 2] 9783110712742, 3110712741

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The Languages and Linguistics of Indigenous North America WOL 13.2

The World of Linguistics

Editor Hans Henrich Hock

Volume 13.2

The Languages and Linguistics of Indigenous North America A Comprehensive Guide Volume 2 Edited by Carmen Dagostino, Marianne Mithun, and Keren Rice

ISBN 978-3-11-071266-7 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-071274-2 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-071281-0 Library of Congress Control Number: 2023932809 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de.

Chapter “33 Child and child-directed speech in North American languages” © 2024 the authors, published by De Gruyter

This chapter is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. For details go to http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/. © 2024 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Cover image: jmatkins / iStock / Getty Images Plus Typesetting: Dörlemann Satz GmbH & Co. KG, Lemförde Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com

Preface This handbook is intended to provide broad coverage of topics of interest to linguists in general, and more specifically to community and academic scholars engaged in the study and revitalization of North American Indigenous languages. Particular attention has been given to new ideas and recent trends in research, to features of the languages that are typologically unusual or unusually well-developed in comparison with others outside of the area, and topics of special importance to communities. The general chapters include broad cross-linguistic coverage of each area and surveys of current work on the topic, as well as points that may be useful for language revitalization purposes. Many address topics that received less attention in earlier accounts, such as syntax, discourse, language change, and contact effects. Given the current blossoming of community-centered research (Bischoff and Jany 2018) and the formation of ever greater numbers of Indigenous linguists, the editors would like to ensure that this work is of value to the communities involved in language maintenance and revitalization. The volume is divided into two main parts, the first on general topics, and the second on revitalization and sketches of languages and families. Volume  1 describes different levels of structure: sounds and sound structures (acoustic phonetics, articulatory phonetics, tone, segmental phonology, prosodic phonology, word prosody, prosody beyond the word), words (identifying words, word classes), sentences (syntax within the clause, syntax beyond the clause, negation, questions and requests, information structure, relative clauses, subordination and complementation, switch reference and event cohesion), discourse (verbal art, conversation structure), and meaning (lexicalization and lexical meaning, lexicography, evidentiality, pluractionality and distributivity, mass versus count nouns, space, landscape, and orientation) and pragmatics. Following that are sections on language over time and space (how grammar emerges, language classification, language contact and linguistic areas, archival-based sociolinguistic variation, and community-based sociolinguistic variation). Volume 2 contains sections devoted to topics of importance in language acquisition and revitalization (outcomes of Mentor-Apprentice programs, child and child-directed speech, language pedagogies, digital tools for revitalization, the use of archival materials for language reclamation, and changing notions of fieldwork), followed by sketches of families and isolates. The geographic area over which the languages are spoken is extensive, extending from the Arctic in the north to the US border with Mexico in the south although some include Mexico in their definition of this area (Siddiqi, Barrie, Gillon, Haugen, and Mathieu 2020). This is the area traditionally covered in works on North American languages, such as Boas’ Handbook of North American Indian languages (1911, 1922), Voegelin and Voegelin’s Languages of the World: Native America fascicle one, Languages of the world: Native America fascicle two (1964, 1965), Campbell and Mithun’s The Languages of Native North America: A Historical and Comparative Assessment (1979), Campbell’s American Indian Languages: The Historical Linguistics of Native America (1997), Goddard’s Handbook of North American Indians 17: Languages (1996), and Mithun’s The https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-201

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Languages of Native North America (1999), as well as the Routledge Handbook of North American Languages (2020) edited by Siddiqi et al. In general, we have opted for a greater number of shorter chapters rather than fewer longer ones, with the goal of covering as many relevant topics as possible while striving for user friendliness, though we recognize that the chapters necessarily vary somewhat in their accessibility and interest to different audiences. We were somewhat selective about languages and families, and if we did not include your favorite one, we hope that you will excuse us. It is an exciting time, with knowledge and ideas constantly evolving.

References Bischoff, Shannon T. & Carmen Jany (eds.). 2018. Insights from Practices in Community-Based Research. (Trends in Linguistics Studies and Monographs 319). Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Boas, Franz (ed.). 1911. Handbook of the American Indian languages, Part 1. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 40). Washington. Boas, Franz (ed.). 1922. Handbook of American Indian languages Part 2. (Bureau of American Ethnology 40). Washington. Campbell, Lyle. 1997. American Indian Languages: The Historical Linguistics of Native America. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Campbell, Lyle & Marianne Mithun (eds.). 1979. The Languages of Native America: A Historical and Comparative Assessment. Austin: University of Texas Press. Goddard, Ives (ed.). 1996. Handbook of North American Indians Volume 17: Languages, 137–157. Washington: Smithsonian Institution. Mithun, Marianne. 1999/2001. The Languages of Native North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Siddiqi, Daniel, Michael Barrie, Carrie Gillon, Jason Haugen & Eric Matthieu. 2020. Routledge Handbook of North American Languages. London and New York: Routledge. Voegelin, Carl F. & Florence M. Voegelin. 1964. Languages of the World: Native America fascicle one (Anthropological Linguistics). Vol. 6. Bloomington, IN: Anthropology Department, Indiana University. Voegelin, Carl F. & Florence M. Voegelin. 1965. Languages of the World: Native America fascicle two (Anthropological Linguistics). Vol. 7. Bloomington, IN: Anthropology Department, Indiana University.

Table of contents Volume 2 Preface  

 V

VII Language revitalization Onowa McIvor, Peter Jacobs, and Barbara Jenni 32 Reviving languages: Outcomes of a Mentor-Apprentice style learning study   719 Melvatha R. Chee and Ryan E. Henke 33 Child and child-directed speech in North American languages 

 741

Kari A. B. Chew, Wesley Y. Leonard, and Daisy Rosenblum 34 Decolonizing Indigenous language pedagogies: Additional language learning and teaching   767 Ashleigh Surma and Christina L. Truong 35 Digital tools for language revitalization 

 789

Megan Lukaniec 36 Using archival materials for language reclamation 

 807

Lorna Wanosts’a7 Williams and Ewa Czaykowska-Higgins 37 Changing notions of fieldwork   823

VIII Language families and isolates Richard Compton 38 Inuit-Yupik-Unangan: An overview of the language family  Leslie Saxon 39 Dene – Athabaskan  Will Oxford 40 Algonquian 

 931

 875

 843

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 Table of contents

Nicole Rosen 41 Michif 

 951

Clarissa Forbes 42 Tsimshianic 

 985

T̕łat̕łaḵuł Patricia Rosborough and Daisy Rosenblum 43 Wakashan Languages   1013 Honoré Watanabe 44 Salish   1053 Philip T. Duncan, Valerie (Lamxayat) Switzler, and Henry B. Zenk 45 Chinookan family, with special reference to Kiksht and notes on Chinuk Wawa   1115 Joana Jansen 46 Sahaptian 

 1139

Andrew Garrett, Susan Gehr, Erik Hans Maier, Line Mikkelsen, Crystal Richardson, and Clare S. Sandy 47 Karuk   1169 M. Ryan Bochnak, Emily A. Hanink, and Alan Chi Lun Yu 48 Wáˑšiw   1201 Eugene Buckley 49 Pomoan   1223 Carmen Dagostino 50 California languages: Isolates and other languages  Timothy P. Henry-Rodriguez 51 Chumashan   1275 Amy Miller 52 Yuman 

 1303

Eric Elliott and David Leedom Shaul 53 Uto-Aztecan   1333

 1247



Logan Sutton 54 Kiowa-Tanoan 

Table of contents 

 1361

Logan Sutton and Armik Mirzayan 55 Caddoan   1407 Armik Mirzayan 56 Sketch of the Siouan Language Family  Daniel W. Hieber 57 Chitimacha 

 1447

 1519

Judith M. Maxwell and Patricia Anderson 58 Tunica   1545 Jack B. Martin 59 Muskogean 

 1577

Marianne Mithun and Ryan DeCaire 60 Iroquoian   1601 Raoul Zamponi 61 Unclassified languages 

 1627

 1649 List of Authors  Index of languages   1673 Index of names   1685 Index of subjects   1695

Volume 1 Preface    V List of North American families, languages, and dialects  Maps   XLI

I Sounds and sound structure Sonya Bird, Rae Anne Claxton, and Tess Nolan 1 Acoustic phonetics   3

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 Table of contents

Heather Bliss, Sonya Bird, and Bryan Gick 2 Articulatory phonetics   39 Hiroto Uchihara 3 Tone   63 Colleen M. Fitzgerald and Matthew K. Gordon 4 Segmental phonology   89 Suzanne Urbanczyk 5 Prosodic morphology  Matthew K. Gordon 6 Word prosody 

 109

 135

Siri G. Tuttle 7 Prosody beyond the word 

 155

II Words Fernando Zúñiga 8 What is a word?  Daniel W. Hieber 9 Word classes 

 183

 205

III Sentences George Aaron Broadwell 10 Syntax within the clause 

 247

Elly van Gelderen 11 Negatives   267 Olga Lovick 12 Questions and requests in North American languages  Anna Berge 13 Information structure 

 305

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Table of contents 

Tim Thornes 14 Clause-combining: Relative clauses 

 323

Amy Dahlstrom 15 Clause combining: Syntax of subordination and complementation  Andrew McKenzie 16 Switch-reference and event cohesion 

 363

IV Discourse Anthony K. Webster 17 Verbal art   385 Olivia N. Sammons 18 Conversation structure 

 421

V Meaning Sally Rice 19 Lexicalization and lexical meaning  Sally Rice 20 Lexicography  Tyler Peterson 21 Evidentiality 

 453

 479

 497

Robert Henderson 22 Pluractionality and distributivity  Andrea Wilhelm 23 Mass and count nouns 

 511

 527

Gary Holton and Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker 24 Sense of place: Space, landscape, and orientation  Sihwei Chen and Lisa Matthewson 25 A sense of time and world 

 577

 547

 345

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Elizabeth Bogal-Allbritten 26 Pragmatics   599

VI Languages over space and time Marianne Mithun 27 Languages as dynamic systems: How grammar can emerge  Sarah Thomason 28 Language contact and linguistic areas  Hannah J. Haynie 29 Language classification 

 647

 669

Justin Spence 30 Archival-Based Sociolinguistic Variation  Kayla Palakurthy 31 Community-based sociolinguistic variation 

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VII Language revitalization

Onowa McIvor, Peter Jacobs, and Barbara Jenni

32 Reviving languages: Outcomes of a Mentor-Apprentice style learning study Abstract: One strategy used by Indigenous communities to revitalize their languages is the Mentor-Apprentice Program (MAP), a method introduced in the 1990s in California and now increasingly popular across North America. Using the MAP approach, adult language learners (known as apprentices) and proficient speakers (known as mentors) create their own oral language-immersive context through daily activities, cultural practices, and community involvement. In this chapter, we present the outcomes from a research partnership between W̲SÁNEĆ School Board/Saanich Adult Education Centre (W̲SB), First Peoples’ Cultural Council (FPCC) and the University of Victoria (UVIC) examining outcomes of adult language learning through the MAP approach. The community partners are leaders with considerable expertise and experience in Indigenous language revitalization, and in particular with adult language learning through Mentor-Apprentice style programming. Our collaborative case study focused on MAP over three years in two adult Indigenous language learning contexts in British Columbia. We learned that MAP positively impacted language learning, although greater opportunities and support are needed. MAP participants reported acquiring skills beyond reclaiming or teaching their languages, which in turn benefited their confidence and wellbeing, generated occupational opportunities, and strengthened their communities. We recommend increased supports for MAP to address observed challenges and to further expand on successes achieved to date.

32.1 Introduction Adults are often identified as the “missing generation” of language learners who hold great potential to contribute to the revival of Indigenous languages by acting as the ‘bridge’ between Elders and children and youth within their communities. A popular method of adult Indigenous language learning is the Mentor-Apprentice Program (MAP).1 First named “Master-Apprentice (Language Learning) Program” (MALLP), this approach emerged at a time when language revitalization work shifted from solely “preserving” languages to finding ways to create new speakers more directly (Hinton 1997). Through this approach, adult language learners (known as apprentices) and proficient speakers (known as mentors) create their own oral language-immersive context through daily 1 We use the word Mentor instead of Master, as it was preferred by our research partners. We use the acronym MAP throughout this chapter to refer to all forms of the Mentor-Apprentice Program methods included in our study. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-032

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activities, cultural practices, and community involvement. The program was designed specifically for those contexts where few speakers remain, as is the case in most of languages in the province of British Columbia (BC), to teach (typically younger adult) community members committed to continuing their language. The core principles of MALLP were developed collaboratively between the trainers and language teams (Hinton 1997) and remain foundationally the same to date. The method suggests 10–20 hours per week in one-on-one language immersion over a two- to three-year period (Hinton 2002). The number of years that mentor-apprentice pairs are formally supported is subject to available funding. (See FPCC 2012; Hinton 1997; Hinton 2001, for further explanation of the method.) Since the first pairs immersed themselves in six different California languages (Karuk, Hupa, Yurok, Wintu, Yowlumne, and Mojave) (Hinton 1997), the approach has been taken up by many communities across North America. Lokosh (2019) adds to the literature with rich description of his Nation’s Anompa Ithánaꞌ – Ithánaꞌchiꞌ (Chickasaw Master-Apprentice Program), which was later replaced by a group immersion approach. In BC, which shares similar linguistic diversity, low numbers of (mainly elderly) adult speakers, and the geographic vastness of California’s landscape, MAP has been successfully implemented since the 2000s, including by the community partners collaborating in this study (FPCC 2012). Although various descriptions of MAP have been written (Lokosh 2019; Hinton 2001; Hinton, Florey, et al. 2018), few researchers have systematically collected evidence towards the method’s effectiveness. In this chapter, we present a case study on the successes and challenges of MAP in the BC context.2 Apprentices throughout the paper report the impacts the program has had on their life. Mentor-Apprentice has made a huge difference in my life. In my ability to even start moving towards being a speaker… It really did allow Kwak’wala to be my life journey… It made my dream, to participate as a speaker, a possibility. — Late Trish Rosborough, Kwak’wala Apprentice (d. 2019)

32.1.1 Research partnership The lead authors Drs. Onowa McIvor and Peter Jacobs, met in graduate school and later held their first tenure track positions at the University of Victoria (UVIC), where the grant for this study was pursued and held. Tiná7 tkwa Wiwiḵ’em ta Peter (Peter comes from a Squamish Nation village, Wiwḵ’em, near Brackendale, BC). Galułi lax̱ Tsax̱is (he is also from the Kwaguł village of Tsax̱is, Fort Rupert, BC). Peter worked for over 25 years at the Squamish Nation in language revitalization of the Sḵwx̱wu7mesh snichim, the language of his father’s side of his family. He taught at UVIC for five years before moving to Simon Fraser University, where he is an Associate Professor of Linguistics. At the Squamish 2 This chapter derives from the final research report McIvor, Jacobs & Jenni (2018) produced from this project.



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Nation, he was the editor-in-chief for the Sḵwx̱wu7mesh Snichim-Xweliten Snichim Sḵexwts (Squamish-English Dictionary). Onowa McIvor is maskékow-ininiw (Swampy Cree), whose family is from Norway House Cree Nation and Cross Lake, MB. Onowa is a lifelong learner of her maternal nēhinawēwin language, a Professor in Indigenous Education, and holds a President’s Research Chair at the University of Victoria. She directs the national NEȾOLṈEW̱ Research Partnership, a seven-year project working to understand and enhance adults’ contributions to reviving Indigenous languages in Canada. Onowa is a grateful visitor on unceded SENĆOŦEN speaking and Lekwungen territories where she is raising her daughters, together with extended family. Drs. Jacobs and McIvor co-led the research within this paper focused on BC-based adult language learners in Mentor-Apprentice Programs (MAP) and other MAP-like programs, Barbara Jenni, UVIC Phd candidate, was the lead research assistant and together with Adar Anisman (UVIC Linguistics Phd graduate 2019) made significant contributions to this study. The MAP research was conducted from 2014–2016 as a partnership between the W̲SÁNEĆ School Board/Saanich Adult Education Centre (W̲SB), First Peoples’ Cultural Council (FPCC), and UVIC under the name NEȾOLN̲EW̲, which means ‘one mind, one people’ or ‘doing things as one’ in the SENĆOŦEN language spoken on southern Vancouver Island. This was the name lent to our research partnership between W̲SB, FPCC, and UVIC. The two community partners are leaders with considerable expertise and experience in Indigenous language revitalization, in particular with MAP.

32.1.1.1 W̲SÁNEĆ School Board/Saanich Adult Education Centre (W̲SB) One central goal of W̲SB is to keep their SENĆOŦEN language alive. Administrators at W̲SB believe that language revitalization is at the forefront of adult education and an important part of their mandate. SENĆOŦEN language and culture is incorporated into all of the programming that is offered. Today, W̲SB has a language nest and K–4 immersion classes in SENĆOŦEN (for more info on their programs see wsanecschoolboard. ca/sencoten-survival-school/). Their teachers started as apprentices and are now mentoring the new generation of language teachers. Staff members at W̲SB assist W̲SÁNEĆ community members with bringing the language into their homes and sharing it with their families. When the children go to immersion school, their parents can become motivated to learn the language as well. Together, they are creating a community of speakers of SENĆOŦEN that has not existed here for decades.

32.1.1.2 First Peoples’ Cultural Council (FPCC) FPCC supports First Nations’ communities across BC to revitalize and maintain their languages and cultures through a number of programs. MAP was one of four programs

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implemented in 2008 with the intention of creating new speakers. FPCC developed MAP in consultation with the communities and experts, and the program remains a true team effort to this day3. It is raising interest and commitment all over BC, and the model is being adopted by others who are not in the FPCC program. MAP has helped apprentices reconnect with their culture, history, homeland, and their Elders. It has helped mentors recognize their language and teaching skills and encouraged them to teach it to their families. Mentors and apprentices are now teaching the language in their home, in the schools, in language nests, and in the community. MAP is helping to renew the cycle of language transmission from Elders to parents and onto their children.

32.1.2 MAP method in BC Each partner had its own approach to the MAP model. Faced with a declining number of mentors, W̲SB adapted the program from a one-on-one model to each mentor working with a pod of apprentices. This program operated for about five years. Following this successful offering of an adapted MAP program, and during the time of this study, W̲SB did not offer a formal Mentor-Apprentice program. Instead, a small group of new learners worked in immersive language positions and apprenticed alongside advanced and proficient speakers on a daily basis in a school setting. (We refer to these learners as the SENĆOŦEN apprentices where it is important to differentiate that results are specific to W̲SB participants.) In contrast, the FPCC provides training and support to a larger number of mentor-apprentice pairings from across BC, spanning many language groups; the program includes annual training, funding, and monthly coaching support. (We refer to FPCC apprentices where it is important to differentiate that results are specific to apprentices in the FPCC program.) Together as partners on a now larger research project which carried the name forward, NEȾOLN̲EW̲ – ‘one mind, one people’ (netolnew.ca) we recognize that adults do not learn their languages in isoloation. Rather they are part of a community system, often have children at home or in the schooling system(s) and sometimes live with speakers or have speakers in their families. In addition, language apprentices are often called upon early in their language learning journeys to contribute in their language learning communities, making the interconnections to early children immersion language nests and immersion schooling that much more significant. To learn more about other kinds of language revitalization programs and the ways they may interconnect with adult and mentor-apprentice language learning see Hinton, et al. (2018); McIvor & Anisman (2018); McIvor & McCarty (2016); and, McIvor & Parker (2016).

3 See Hinton, Florey et al. (2018) for further discussion of the development and details about the FPCC MAP.



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32.2 The research process FPCC, W̲SB, and UVIC secured support from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRC) for this three-year project to document the successes and challenges of MAP in BC. Research participants were recruited both from the W̲SÁNEĆ community and from two FPCC MAP cohorts. Both partner organizations identified potential participants, who were then contacted for their interest. Together the research partners identified 99 participants as potential contributors to the project. Of those, 61 agreed to be involved in the study: 33 apprentices, 23 mentors, and five administrators. Over a three-year period, we interviewed these participants, including current and past apprentices, current and past language mentors, and administrators in both partner organizations. Current apprentices were interviewed up to six times over two years (3 times per year) to document their learning process. Apprentices who had previously participated in MAP, mentors, and administrators were interviewed once. We co-developed an interview guide with our partners that included both closedand open-ended questions. Closed-ended questions included information about language learning goals, activities, schedule, and their self-perceived progress. Open-ended questions included self-reporting of successes, challenges, and the effects language learning had on other areas of their lives. A program facilitator at FPCC interviewed those participants. W̲SB participants were interviewed by one of two research assistants, one was a member of the W̲SÁNEĆ community, and the other a UVIC linguistics graduate student. We used a thematic analysis approach to explore participants’ subjective opinions, reflections, and beliefs shared in the narrative responses to open-ended questions. Representatives from both the FPCC and W̲SB contributed to the meaning-making process alongside the UVIC-based team by reviewing both the long transcripts as well as the themes established by the team. The final themes are presented as research outcomes in this paper, co-constructed together with all research partners while staying true to the participants’ sharing.

32.2.1 Participants Participants represented 16 different Indigenous languages (in alphabetical order): Ditidaht; Gitsenimx̲; Hul̓q̓umín̓um̓; Ktunaxa; Kwak’wala; Nsyilxcən; Nuu-chah-nulth; Nuxalk; Secwepemctsín; SENĆOŦEN; She shashishalhem; St’át’imcets; Tsilhqot’in; Witsuwit’en; ’Uik̓ala; X̱aad kíl – reflecting about half of the rich linguistic diversity of BC (Dunlop et al. 2018). Of the apprentices (total 33), 13 were first-time MAP participants, 10 were returning for their second or third year of MAP (with FPCC), and 10 were past apprentices (having completed MAP prior to this study). Of the total of 23 mentors; 13 were actively participating in MAP during the time of the study (all FPCC), and the remaining 10 had mentored in the past. Figure 1 below summarizes this information.

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Fig. 1: Participant information

32.3 Research outcomes The outcomes of our collaborative research study are shared in the following way: the first section pertains to Apprentices’ experiences, followed by Mentor-specific outcomes, then successes and challenges are shared that pertain to both groups. We have included the participants’ voices whenever possible to bring depth and richness, as well as breathe life into the findings of this study.

32.3.1 Apprentices 32.3.1.1 Motivation Current and past apprentices decided to join MAP to learn their language for the following reasons: some felt a sense of urgency or duty to carry on the language, some believed that MAP specifically was the right program for them to learn the language, others wanted to continue to progress from their learning-to-date, and still others wanted to focus on speaking the language. In addition they shared other personal reasons to join, such as the timing worked, the program was recommended to them, they were seeking a new direction in their lives or felt it would further their connection to their family or community.



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32.3.1.2 Goal-setting The MAP approach is learner driven, meaning the apprentice assumes the responsibility of setting learning goals. Apprentices set goals to improve their language proficiency, work on their grammar, acquire language related to cultural knowledge, gain skills to conduct cultural and community activities in the language, or progress in their learning process. We found that apprentices who set regular and specific goals were more likely to progress in their learning, including completing the targeted numbers of hours spent in the language each week.

32.3.1.3 Time commitment We calculated how much time apprentices spent learning the language, distinguishing between actual time in MAP (with their mentor), and extra time on their own or in the community without their mentor. Overall, the total time apprentices dedicated to learning their language ranged from “no, or sporadic” hours, when sessions were missed due to a variety of reasons, to well over 20 hours per week. On average, apprentices spent 10 to 15 hours per week in language activities, as recommended in the original MAP design.

Fig. 2: Weekly time spent in language activities

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As seen in Figure 2, in Year 1, apprentices spent between 7.75 to 10 hours per week in MAP and committed another 2.75 to 5 hours per week of extra time to their language learning. In Year 2, the time spent in MAP remained the same, while apprentices increased the amount of extra time spent learning outside of MAP to 5.25 to 7.5 hours per week. In Year 3, apprentices spent less time in MAP than in previous years (on average 5.25 to 7.5 hours per week), yet maintained the level of extra time they committed to their ongoing language learning from Year 2. This indicates that as apprentices reached Year 3, they expanded their language learning, use, and skills by speaking with other speakers beyond (just) their mentors, and/or had reached a level of proficiency that allowed them to more comfortably learn (and converse with others) on their own. Based on these outcomes and other scholarly findings, we conclude it takes approximately 1,000 hours of dedicated learning time to reach high-beginner, low-intermediate levels of proficiency.4

32.3.1.4 Activities The goal of MAP is to create new speakers and to bring their new language use into their daily lives. This is achieved through the wide range of language learning activities that apprentices initiate in their language learning sessions and later expand to other areas of their life. The activities reported by the apprentices are included here to offer a stronger understanding of the MAP experience.5 Most apprentices who participated in this study conducted language learning activities with their mentors at home, in the community, and out on the land and water. For current SENĆOŦEN apprentices, their time with mentors took place in a communal setting of immersive language positions at school. The activities conducted with the mentor during MAP included: – everyday activities (e.  g., washing dishes) – activities on the land (e.  g., fishing) – conversation-oriented activities (e.  g., phone conversations) – activities aimed at learning specific areas of the language (e.  g., pronunciation guides) – cultural activities (e.  g., story-telling), and – activities with other speakers (e.  g., community events). Outside of MAP, many apprentices sought out other speakers (and other learners) to continue to engage in daily-life language-related activities, or listened to recordings or watched videos on their own. The activities conducted independently included:

4 See Johnson (2016, 2017) and McIvor (2015) for further discussion on this topic. 5 See Hinton (2002) for additional suggested activities.



– – – – –

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listening to audio resources (e.  g., recordings of MAP sessions) self-study (e.  g., journaling) social activities (e.  g., using language apps) studying (e.  g., participating in language groups), and song-based activities (e.  g., listening to songs).

32.3.2 Mentors The majority of the mentors became involved in MAP by invitation, often by their future apprentice. Almost all expressed hope they could pass on the language to at least one person and that their apprentice would become a speaker. Almost all mentors described their experience with MAP as mainly positive and stated they felt the immersive context worked well for teaching and learning the language. They felt MAP created a spark or interest in learners and others, which could carry the language work forward. MAP also provided them with a specific approach on how to “enter and do” language work, and specifically the FPCC mentors appreciated the structural support available through the program. Here we include some of the mentors’ expressions of how it was to be involved in the program as a way of honouring their voices. I feel excited … just knowing [my apprentice] is really working hard at learning the language. The other people that have heard, like you know, that [my apprentice] and I are doing, they’re very excited, they say it makes them feel so good just to listen to us speaking. — Levi Martin, Nuu-chah-nulth Mentor [MAP] opened all avenues for us. It gave us a lot of directions how to do this. If I wasn’t [doing MAP]…I don’t think I would have this one person always be with me all the time, like I’m just using my upbringing, … how my parents gave me the language. — Axeiiwilhox, Gitsenimx Mentor Mentoring one-on-one is, is so good … because they get a level of confidence and they’re not shy to enunciate what you’re teaching them, and to listen. — Linda Redan, St’át’imcets Mentor

32.3.3 Successes 32.3.3.1 Proficiency Of all the current apprentices, nearly 90 % reported an improvement in their speaking abilities and almost all reported increased confidence in speaking during their time in MAP. These findings support the specific aim of the MAP approach towards the creation of new speakers. Almost half of the current apprentices also reported an increase in their vocabulary, progress in their ability to understand when spoken to by their mentor

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or other speakers, and improvements in their understanding of various language-specific grammatical concepts. Each time we spoke with current apprentices during the study, we asked them how long they were able to “stay in the language” (without reverting to using English). Those who were interviewed more than once all reported either maintaining a steady amount or a consistent increase of time in language. Across the duration of the study, participants reported increases ranging up to three times the initial time in the language. The range across participants of maintaining time in the language was from five minutes to five to six hours per event. All five of the SENĆOŦEN past apprentices reported having progressed to becoming intermediate or advanced speakers of the language (according to the ACTFL Proficiency guidelines, see actfl.org) and are now mentoring current apprentices. Finally, by reflecting on their successes, many of the current apprentices also reported gaining insights about their actual language abilities and learning progress. We include here the voices of several of the apprentices themselves describing joyfully, their new abilities: “being able to direct children” — Dominique James, SENĆOŦEN Apprentice “having a conversation with a fluent speaker” — Tsawaluulh, Nuxalk Apprentice “just… finally… speaking something outside of rehearsed sentences or… one word” — Steven Feschuk, She shashishalhem Apprentice “speaking in much more full sentences” — Apprentice6 “learning to… pronounce the words properly” — Alexandria Peters, Secwepemctsín Apprentice “being able to get the major points of the story across” — Gisele Maria Martin, Nuu-chah-nulth Apprentice “speak[ing the language] in front of a large crowd” — Robert Louie, SENĆOŦEN Apprentice

6 When anonymity was requested, participants were identified by their role in the study.



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32.3.3.2 Identity and cultural continuity When discussing their MAP experiences, about 40 % of all apprentices spoke directly about how their sense of identity was positively affected by the process of learning their language and mentioned feeling proud and empowered. In addition to directly talking about their own identity, participants also connected their language learning to cultural continuity. Notably, apprentices felt strongly that knowing oneself as a First Nations person requires knowing not only one’s language, but also one’s culture. Participants’ feelings of responsibility towards their community and families and deepening connections to the cultural knowledge embedded in the language increased over time, from 40 % of the apprentices referencing this theme at the beginning of the study to 60 % of the apprentices towards the end of the study. Feelings of loss expressed during the current apprentices’ first interview appeared to transform into positive feelings of cultural continuity by their final interview, with an emphasis on hope, pride, and empowerment. It means a lot to me. To hear… to be able to listen to some of the older stories and understand and, you know, being able to bring those stories back to life as well when I’m meeting with the children, and sharing with them, and just keeping the language alive, it means lots to me. — Apprentice There are things that simply can’t be translated that are best just left in my language. And it [is] a part of who I am and I admit it’s a part of me I wouldn’t have known without it. — Ben Louis, Nsyilxcən Apprentice [Learning the language] honestly brings a huge sense of pride. And the accomplishments that I have overcome helps me be an inspiration to anyone else that’s going to be wanting to learn the language. And for me it’s done nothing but light the fire underneath my feet, that I’m going to be the person to bring back the language to my people … I was picked into this program for a reason. And I’m going to be the guy, I’m the person who was picked from my ancestors, that was handed down to me to bring the language back to my people. — Adam Manson, Hul̓q̓umín̓um̓ Apprentice

These apprentices expressed the rich and positive effects on identity and increasing cultural knowledge experienced by apprentices in our study.

32.3.3.3 Health and wellbeing While interviewing participants, we asked them whether their involvement with MAP had affected other areas of their lives. Beyond language learning, apprentices reported acquiring valuable skills in cultural practices, including conduct around Elders, and many of them also spoke specifically about the effects on their health and wellbeing. Participants shared that reconnecting with their language, “means everything to

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[them]” (Molly Wickham, Witsuwit’en Apprentice). Many viewed the contributions of the language and language learning as an equal need to any other kind of sustenance. Apprentices reported their involvement in MAP has strengthened their identity, given them a sense of connection, and taught them how to conduct themselves better in life and in relation to others. Both apprentices and mentors shared that participating in MAP acted as a motivator to maintain general wellbeing. Marilyn Baptiste, Tsilhqot’in Apprentice expresses, “Part of my wellness is learning my language”. Language provided some apprentices with a tool to connect with their emotions and process challenging times in their lives. “And it all has meaning to it too – it teaches you a lot of calming yourself down and behaviours and actions” (Helena Norris, SENĆOŦEN, Apprentice). The themes in this section explain some of the study findings related to connections between MAP and language, health and wellbeing, for further details see Jenni et al. (2017).

32.3.3.4 Occupational and education outcomes Two-thirds of all current and past apprentices reported their language learning resulted directly in new or additional occupational opportunities (see Figure 3 below). These occupational opportunities were separated into three categories: language-related contractors, language-related community volunteers, and language-related occupations in schools.

Fig. 3: Occupational outcomes for all apprentices from both partners (N = 33)



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I feel like I can teach now. Like when I first started I thought, well I should be able to teach, but now I actually offered to be with a teacher … I’m always willing to do it. And before I wouldn’t have. — Marilyn Napoleon, St’át’imcets Apprentice

By the end of the study, all of the SENĆOŦEN apprentices (n = 10) and almost half of the FPCC apprentices (n = 11) were hired or found paid work in language-related occupations in a school setting, either as teachers, teacher assistants, or contributing to language-related activities in the school, such as curriculum development. Other apprentices were able to secure language-related contract work, or contributed to their communities through volunteering in language-related settings and roles. (It is important to note that one of the W̲SB program goals was training people for future teaching positions, whereas the FPCC program offered independent language programming directly to diverse language teams without the specific purpose of job training.) Finally, almost half of the FPCC apprentices, and almost all of the SENĆOŦEN apprentices reported pursuing continuing education goals as a result of participating in MAP, either through formal post-secondary or post-graduate degree programs, or community-based language programs.

32.3.3.5 Community outcomes For both mentors and apprentices, their engagement with the language extended beyond their pairing, and their MAP participation created ripple effects in their respective communities. The majority of mentors reported an increased or deepened connection to their community, family members, or others. Many mentors are now recognized as “language experts” or resource people in their community and are called upon more often. For over half of the apprentices, their sense of accomplishment and success in MAP included their connection with their communities. All apprentices in some way “[became] more confident to talk in front of [their] community” (Alexandria Peters, Secwepemctsín Apprentice) and “[became] more comfortable speaking about [their] culture” (Gisele Maria Martin, Nuu-chah-nulth Apprentice). They shared the language with children, spouses, and other family members at home, and became role models to other learners. As they progressed in their language learning, apprentices reported being expected to or were given the opportunities to deepen their community involvement, in the form of organizing community events and at times leading those events. Examples of increased responsibilities included speaking at ceremonies as representatives of their family or clan, leading an opening prayer for events, or engaging with other Elders in the language. About one-third of the FPCC apprentices became involved in Elder groups or leading and participating in cultural groups in their community. All of the SENĆOŦEN past apprentices reported becoming mentors to new language learners, a powerful

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outcome of the MAP program in that community. (FPCC past apprentices were not asked about this specifically.) The following quotes conveyed examples of these findings. I’m getting asked more and more about the other stuff that I know, like the traditions and the culture. I was raised by old people too, so even though I never spoke the language, all my life I learned all the other stuff. — Darlene Louie, Secwepemctsín Apprentice The Mentor-Apprentice Program actually allowed me to get to know my mom all over again. […] Just getting to know, like, how much my mom knows. How much knowledge that she has, locked away in her brain and just allowing me to get to know her again. I am totally in debt to that, to the MAP program, and that’s why I feel so strongly about… the language learning and… getting to our roots again. — Crystal Tom, Gitsenimx Apprentice

Apprentices also reported creating greater interest in the language in their communities through “being able to speak with other people” (səniʔwlm, n̓səl̓xcin Apprentice) in the language, and by becoming language advocates. They engaged other language learners by creating more language learning opportunities, resources, and spaces to use the language, as well as raised awareness about language endangerment and current revitalization efforts. Through their MAP experiences, they formed local networks within their own community, as well as across other Nations; the latter point was especially true for FPCC participants who were training alongside many other language groups.

32.3.4 Challenges Learning a language is not a simple task, even more so when the learner does not have easy access to proficient speakers, learning resources, or educational opportunities in the language. Many apprentices, for example, struggled with feelings of isolation when their language learning efforts lacked “domains for use”7 where they could readily share and converse with others. While not all apprentices faced every challenge described here, the following list demonstrates the deep commitment apprentices have to persevere in their language learning journey despite, at times, difficult circumstances.

32.3.4.1 Expectations and competing priorities Beginner apprentices had to adjust their expectations and come to terms with their (initial) lack of vocabulary or grammatical knowledge. A main challenge was to remain in the language and not switch to using English to communicate. Some apprentices 7 See Zahir (2018) for applied example of sociolinguistic concept of language domains in use.



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struggled with unrealistic or vague goals for the program, such as “becoming fluent in the language.” For a few apprentices, lack of technical skills around recordings or accessing electronic resources posed difficulties in their learning, specifically outside of MAP when they relied more on resources other than their mentor. All apprentices mentioned dealing with competing priorities and responsibilities, as they juggled family, work, and school obligations in addition to their MAP commitments. However, most were resourceful in maintaining their hours. A small number of apprentices who repeatedly spoke about “scheduling” as a major challenge often demonstrated other underlying challenges that seemed to be the primary issue, and ultimately these apprentices did not complete the program. Some apprentices also reported feeling discouraged because of the language situation in their community. They were disappointed by the lack of language activism, or by perceived or actual judgement from others in their community. One participant shared their feelings of being overwhelmed by the sense of urgency and pressure to “save the language”.

32.3.4.2 Relationships The traditional MAP format where one mentor is paired with one apprentice is centered on and assumes a positive and functioning relationship between the apprentice and mentor. It is therefore noteworthy that almost two-thirds of current apprentices commented on experiencing challenges in their relationships with their mentor. Some apprentices struggled in communicating with their mentor, and to deal with instances where their mentor appeared to lack knowledge in certain aspects of the language. Some apprentices expressed uncertainty around proper conduct in certain situations due to a lack of cultural knowledge. These apprentices also reported that acquiring skills in this area helped them in other situations later on. Cultural taboos around making mistakes and practicing something in public before achieving mastery of it, as well as mentors’ reactions to making mistakes, created challenging situations for some apprentices. This eased where the apprentice and mentor had a strong, supportive, and established bond. Similar to apprentices’ own expectations, the mentor-apprentice pair at times also needed to recalibrate their expectations around the learning process and accept that progress may be slower than expected. The better the pair was able to adjust their expectations, the stronger their relationship appeared to be or become. Finally, some apprentices found it difficult to respond when their mentor appeared to struggle with their own experiences of colonization and the effects thereof (such as residential school memories), that resurfaced due to (a renewed) engagement with the language.

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32.3.4.3 Withdrawal Five participants left the program during the duration of the study. We found that they faced a variety of the challenges including: dedicating time to the program; their relationships with their mentors; their ability to set realistic goals based on principles of language learning; and the lack of support systems in their community for language work. The experience these participants shared demonstrates that MAP may not be the right language learning approach for every person at every time in their life. An analysis of the hours spent learning the language also indicates that those who dedicated more than 10 hours per week were more likely to complete the program, whereas those dedicating no more than 7.5 hours per week were less likely to complete. This finding teaches us that a “good fit” for apprentices means that these individuals need to be able to prioritize MAP above other time commitments; have a good working relationship with their mentor; and receive support in setting clear, achievable goals.

32.3.4.4 Language learning-contexts and other opportunities to speak Apprentices described challenges in relation to their language learning contexts and additional opportunities to learn and use the language. These challenges differed depending on the context of the apprentice. At least one-third of the apprentices experienced some frustration over the lack of speakers in the community and discussed how this impacted their personal language learning progress. FPCC apprentices, who were at times the only learners in their community, particularly expressed this. In contrast, SENĆOŦEN apprentices whose MAP environment involved working with a group of proficient language teachers in a school setting, mentioned the lack of an individual mentor as a challenge. Participants also expressed feeling discouraged by the limited domains of language use. While FPCC apprentices perceived going to work as a barrier to learning, SENĆOŦEN participants struggled with how to bring the language from the immersion school (where they worked) into the home. Finally, at times apprentices struggled with negative attitudes or apathy within their community to language learning in general. Some apprentices expressed they were able to effect changes in attitudes in their communities through their own learning.

32.3.4.5 Mentors’ perspectives Mentors commented that language is linked to family and community and they expressed a deep wish that the language would be spoken again by many, be heard by learners, and be used within the home by the entire family. In this context, some of the FPCC mentors felt the one-on-one pairing of MAP was a limitation of the approach.



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While over half of the mentors liked the focus on speaking and understanding, and the immersive approach of MAP, some found it challenging to not use writing and reading at all, especially if their apprentices were eager to learn to this way. The most frequently cited challenge though was “finding time” or “enough time” to learn or progress in the learning to the extent desired. The second most cited challenge for mentors was how to deal with perceived differences in the language, specifically differences in pronunciation as mentors felt it was their responsibility to pass on correct pronunciation. Overall, mentors expressed enjoying their involvement. They reported finding the experience interesting and fun; yet, they also acknowledged that “more” is needed, including more time with apprentices and more learning opportunities. Also, they reported that this work takes patience, and can be difficult emotionally. There was an overall sentiment of recognizing that this work was “just” the beginning of a long language learning journey, and “turning around” of the language in their community. Most mentors spoke of having to overcome negative attitudes and judgment towards the language, either within themselves, or in others. Those feelings were directly related to residential school and colonization experiences. The following expresses an example of how MAP can both invoke but also support healing for these experiences, through the opportunity to work through some past harms. [MAP] awakened a lot of stuff that I had stored in my back memories […] It really helped me … pull all of those memories out, and now I’ll be sitting with someone, and something will come up, and […] pretty soon we get to talking about things like that, so it has helped me a lot in uncovering all the old things that had been suppressed over the years. — Clara Camille, Secwepemctsín Mentor

Furthermore, half of the mentors felt scared or certain that their language will not survive, due to a lack of initiative, lack of support from communities and for learners, and lack of resources, including a vital speech community. Still, many of these mentors expressed hope and remain determined to continue to do what they can to keep the language alive.

32.3.4.6 Insufficient hours Apprentices in this study demonstrated repeatedly their commitment to their language learning, and as such their efforts deserve recognition and support. Mentors felt strongly that annual programs with minimal hours (most programs are funded for 300 hours per year) are not enough to produce proficient speakers. Apprentices from different communities had different levels of access to additional language learning opportunities. Many apprentices voiced a need for language classes to complement their MAP hours with their mentor; availability of such classes generally depended on funding and organizational structures. That said, mentors recognized one benefit of MAP over a classroom setting is the comparatively higher number of hours

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spent in the language doing everyday activities. Their experience overall, however, is that secure long-term language programming over several years covering progressive levels of language abilities is required to move learners past the beginner level.

32.3.4.7 Greater financial support While none of the participants in this study mentioned financial incentives, such as the modest stipend provided to FPCC mentors and apprentices, as a motivating factor to learn the language or partake in MAP, participants often spoke of the challenges brought about by needing to work to earn a living while in MAP. This included: – having to schedule MAP sessions after work, when they were tired; – the impact that a strict evening schedule had on their ability to experience some types of language that comes with daytime activities; – having to cancel regular MAP sessions when they were away for work; – the time it took to commute to and from their work and MAP sessions; – lack of child care; – the need to balance work life, family life, other studies, exercise and recreation, with MAP participation.

32.4 Recommendations Based on the findings from this study, we make the following recommendations. First, any MAP requires multi-year funding. Participants (across all groups) consistently raised the need to expand the current 300-hour support to 1,000 hours per year for three to five years. In any language, 300 hours of learning over a six-month period would provide familiarity and some basic foundation, but would not be expected to create new speakers in any other circumstances. Second, stable and adequate funding for FPCC and W̲SB, and organizations like them, is critical to the success of MAP. Third, apprentices and mentors require adequate funding to allow learners to dedicate full-time attention to language learning. The availability of such funding would acknow­ledge that most apprentices are also working or going to school full-time (or both) and raising young families. Moveover, Elder speakers often live on limited income and offer their time to these learners. A greater stipend to recognize the value of their know­ledge would more highly honour our language speakers. Fourth, regular and consistent longer term (beyond 300 hours) assessment of learners’ progress would help improve this method. (The forthcoming expansion of the Language Learning Assessment Tool developed during this project, see McIvor & Jacobs, 2018, will offer one step towards meeting this recommendation.) The study’s findings emphasize the power and positive outcomes of setting realistic and informed language learning goals for learners. It is recommended that any organi-



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zation undertaking this program ensure there is strong support to teach learners about realistic outcomes and assist with goal-setting and monitoring. Further research is required, including longitudinal study of MAP participants over a five to 10 year period, from the beginning of their program, through and after completion, to study both language learning plateaus and strategies undertaken to build higher levels of proficiency in language. Other research could include further exploration of health and well-being outcomes, and perhaps contexts within which MAP is most useful. (See Gessner et al. 2021 follow up research report to this study.)

32.5 Conclusion I have found a part of my soul that was missing. I just feel so grateful. I feel like it’s one of the biggest, most meaningful things I’ve ever done in my life. — Gisele Maria Martin, Nuu-chah-nulth Apprentice

The results from this three-year study show that MAP as a language learning and revitalization method has had tremendous positive impacts for mentors, apprentices, and communities across BC. Apprentices acquired skills reaching far beyond reclaiming their language; many reported becoming more proficient in cultural practices, being more deeply involved in their communities, experiencing increased feelings of wellbeing and confidence, and having accepted greater responsibilities in their communities, including passing on the language to subsequent generations. Two-thirds of all current and past apprentices secured occupational opportunities, and many apprentices also pursued higher education as a direct result of their language learning in MAP. Their occupational and educational pursuits in turn strengthened their communities. Mentors reported having regained hope and given a means to find healing from the traumas of colonization. Many mentors were also more overtly recognized as language holders and asked to contribute their wisdom in their communities. But more is needed: More time, more learning opportunities, as well as continued patience and resilience to handle accompanying difficult emotions. There is an overall sentiment expressed by the participants in this study that the work they are doing now is “just” a beginning. Mentors emphasized that to move learners past beginner levels, language programming must be secure, long-term, and multi-year. Participants often spoke of the challenges of needing to earn a living while participating in MAP (a 10–20 hour/week commitment), while balancing the demands of work life, family life, other studies, exercise, and recreation. There are many reasons why pairings, at times, do not work out or life challenges get in the way of success in MAP. This study showed that MAP is a worthwhile approach towards creating new adult speakers of Indigenous languages. The study findings demonstrated that “putting in the hours” leads to increased proficiency; and increasing supports to assist managing the complicated factors impacting teams, apprentices, and mentors would lead to even higher levels of success.

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While MAP is one method amongst many in the field of language revitalization making a contribution towards the development of new speakers, it is making an important impact in North America towards the creation of new generations of adult speakers. Its usefulness is no doubt contextual but, as stated by Hinton, Florey, et al. (2018), one of its greatest features is its “flexibility to match situational contraints and opportunities” (p. 135). Given the vast diversity in and amongst Indigenous communities, malleable programs with proven success have a critical place in a larger set of approaches needed to ensure Indigenous languages survive and thrive into the future. Our findings indicate programs like MAP, focused on adults and gaining functional language use, have an important role for communities seeking to regain, recover or maintain their ancestral languages for perpetuity.

References Dunlop, Britt, Suzanne Gessner, Tracey Herbert & Aliana Parker. 2018. Report on the status of B.C. First Nations languages. 3rd edn. Brentwood Bay, B.C.: First Peoples’ Cultural Council. https://fpcc.ca/wp-content/ uploads/2020/07/FPCC-LanguageReport-180716-WEB.pdf First Peoples’ Cultural Council (FPCC). 2012. BC’s Master-Apprentice language program handbook. Brentwood Bay: FPCC. Gessner, Suzanne, Green, Hannah, & Multani, N. (2021). Indigenous adults revive languages in British Columbia through Mentor-Apprentice style learning: Phase 2 Executive Summary. Victoria, BC: University of Victoria. Retrieved from http://hdl.handle.net/1828/14106 Hinton, Leanne. 1997. Survival of endangered lanuages: The California Master-Apprentice program. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 123. 177–191. Hinton, Leanne. 2001. The Master-Apprentice language learning program. In Leanne Hinton & Ken Hale (eds.), The green book of language revitalization in practice, 217–226. San Diego, CA: Academic Press. Hinton, Leanne (with Matt Vera & Nancy Steele). 2002. How to keep your language alive: A commonsense approach to one-on-one language learning. Berkley, CA: Heyday Books. Hinton, Leanne, Margaret Florey, Suzanne Gessner & Jacob Manatowa-Bailey. 2018. The Master-Apprentice language learning program. In Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, 127–136. New York & London: Routledge. Hinton, Leanne, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.). 2018. The Routledge handbook of language revitalization. New York & London: Routledge. Jenni, Barbara, Adar Anisman, Onowa McIvor & Peter Jacobs. 2017. An exploration of the effects of Mentor-Apprentice programs on mentors & apprentices’ health and wellbeing. International Journal of Indigenous Health 12(2). 25–42. Johnson, Sʔímlaʔxʷ Michele K. 2016. Ax toowú át wudikeen, my spirit soars: Tlingit direct acquisition and co-learning pilot project. Language Documentation and Conservation 10. 306–336. http://nflrc.hawaii. edu/ldc Johnson, Sʔímlaʔxʷ Michele K. 2017. Syilx language house: How and why we are delivering 2,000 decolonizing hours in Nsyilxcn. Canadian Modern Language Review 73(4). 509–537. Lokosh (Joshua D. Hinson). 2019. Nanna ittonchololi’ ilaliichi (We are cultivating new growth): Twenty years of Chikashshanompa’ revitalization. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma dissertation. McIvor, Onowa. 2015. Adult Indigenous language learning in western Canada: What is holding us back? In Kathryn A. Michel, Patrick D. Walton, Emma Bourassa & Jack Miller (eds.), Our living languages:



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Papers from the 19th Stabilizing Indigenous Languages Symposium, 37–49. Ronkonkoma, NY: Linus Learning. McIvor, Onowa & Adar Anisman. 2018. Keeping our languages alive: Strategies for Indigenous language revitalization and maintenance. In Yasushi Watanabe (ed.), Handbook of Cultural Security, 90–109. Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar Publishing. McIvor, Onowa & Peter Jacobs. 2018. Adult Indigenous contributions to reviving languages in British Columbia through mentor-apprentice style learning: Assessment tool. University of Victoria. https://netolnew.ca/ all-research-reporting/assessment-tool-report/ McIvor, Onowa, Peter Jacobs & Barbara Jenni. 2018. Adult Indigenous contributions to reviving languages in British Columbia through Mentor-Apprentice style learning: Research report. https://netolnew.ca/ all-research-reporting/map-research-report McIvor, Onowa & Teresa McCarty. 2016. Indigenous bilingual and revitalization-immersion education in Canada and the USA. In Ofelia García, Angel Lin & Stephen May (eds.), Bilingual and Multilingual Education, Encyclopedia of Language and Education, 1–17. Cham: Springer International Publishing. DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-02324-3_34-1 McIvor, Onowa & Aliana Parker. 2016. Back to the future: Recreating natural Indigenous language learning environments through “Language Nest” early childhood programming. International Journal of Holistic Early Learning and Development 3. 21–35. https://ijheld.lakeheadu.ca/article/view/1444 Zahir, Zalmai ʔəswəli. 2018. Language nesting in the home. In Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, 156–165. New York & London: Routledge.

Melvatha R. Chee and Ryan E. Henke

33 Child and child-directed speech in North American languages Abstract: This chapter reviews existing academic literature on the first language (L1) acquisition of the Indigenous languages of North America (NA languages). We begin by highlighting topics and applications that may be of particular interest to Indigenous language communities, especially those engaging in language revitalization and reclamation (§ 2). We also draw connections and discuss patterns from the literature pertaining to how adults speak to children (§ 3) and how children may acquire NA languages as their mother tongues (§ 4). Due to the state of the literature, our review focuses on vocabulary (the lexicon), systems of speech sounds (phonology), the parts of words (morphology), and the structure of sentences (syntax)—rather than other aspects of acquisition such as language socialization. We consider ways in which child and child-directed speech exhibits similarities and differences across languages in a geographic area known for linguistic diversity.

33.1 Introduction A child’s first language (L1) is a mother tongue acquired from birth over the first several years of life, from exposure to language during interactions with family members and the community. We use the term “L1 acquisition” in the traditional academic sense (e.  g., Ortega 2009), which is distinct from the process of children learning a language after their first few years of age through avenues such as schools. The term “L1” does not assume that monolingualism is a norm, and bilingual and multilingual children can have more than one L1. In this chapter we use the term North American (NA) languages to refer to the Indigenous languages of what is now the United States, Canada, and Greenland. According to Mithun (1999), nearly 300 NA languages were spoken prior to European contact. Today just a relatively small number of these languages are still acquired by children as an L1 in a traditional manner, due to the legacy of colonization. However, as communities across the continent engage in language revitalization and reclamation, we must include the voices of children and consider how they have traditionally acquired NA languages.

33.1.1 Why it matters The L1 acquisition of NA languages demands more dedicated research for a variety of reasons. Many NA languages are known for having particular linguistic characteristics Open Access. © 2024 the author(s), published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-033

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such as “polysynthesis”, where verbs can be composed of many meaningful parts (see, e.  g., Fortescue et al. 2017). These characteristics can differ greatly from those seen in English, Spanish, German, or Japanese, which tend to receive the bulk of attention in L1 acquisition research. The characteristics of NA languages, for instance, raise important theoretical questions about how children master the linguistic patterns of any mother tongue. This chapter does not delve deeply into theory, but several studies discussed here investigate the roles that factors such as perceptual salience, unanalyzed chunks, frequency of usage, and grammatical complexity play in acquiring seemingly complex word structures (e.  g., Peters 1983; Peters 1985; Slobin 1985; see also Kelly et al. 2014). Of course, perhaps the most important reason to study the L1 acquisition of NA languages is to inform community-based initiatives and the hard work to support child language development and foster new generations of speakers (§ 2).

33.1.2 The landscape of literature NA languages are severely underrepresented in the field of L1 acquisition research (Kelly et al. 2014; Kelly et al. 2015). This gap reflects a lack of Native scholars but more so the results of language loss from colonization: Modern language acquisition research has emerged during a period when fewer and fewer NA languages are acquired as mother tongues. However, this does not mean that NA languages have been ignored in the scientific study of L1 acquisition. In this chapter, we have endeavored to survey all such published research. We also refer readers to Allen’s (2017) review of research with Inuit languages for additional bigger-picture commentary. Our survey includes approximately 90 studies covering nearly 30 languages and varieties across 13 language families and three language isolates. These studies are listed in the Appendix. To keep in-text citations more streamlined, we cite an individual study only if it is necessary to distinguish that study from others on the same language. For example, when we mention Zuni we do not cite the single study listed in the Appendix, but we do cite individual studies from the larger body of literature on Inuktitut. Within this landscape of literature, Inuktitut has seen the largest number of studies (Allen 2017), followed by East Cree and Navajo. Most other languages tend to be the subject of just one or two studies. This landscape stretches as far back as the late 19th century (Chamberlain 1890) up to the present, which includes several new and ongoing efforts (Allen, Dench & Isakson 2019; Chee 2017; Henke 2020; Hellwig & Jung 2020). Some important limitations need to be addressed before proceeding. First, the body of scientific research on L1 acquisition involves few studies done by Native scholars. As a result, many of the publications we survey privilege perspectives and priorities from outside language communities. To our knowledge, Chee’s acquisition work on Navajo (2007, 2017) represents the only studies done by a tribal member and speaker of the language. Second, most published research focuses on the acquisition of structural lin-



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guistic units. This is reflected in our review, and we acknowledge that there is much more to the process of language acquisition and socialization than acquiring sound systems and the components of words and sentences. Third, compared to the body of L1 acquisition literature available for languages such as English, French, German, and Japanese (Kelly et al. 2015), the literature for NA languages generally involves a small number of languages, a small number of studies per language, and a small number of children represented per study. In other words, even when scientific information exists about how an NA language is acquired as an L1, there is generally not much of this information. This impedes, for example, our ability to draw strong generalizations in this review. Fourth, several studies examine anecdotal, elicited, or otherwise non-primary data—sometimes due to language shift, when children and caretakers could no longer be recorded speaking a language. For instance, Chamberlain (1890; 1893) draws many observations from dictionary sources. Egesdal (1984) analyzes the child-like speech used by characters within Nlaka’pamux narratives, which includes some observations made by Teit (1912) within his own collection of stories. Nonetheless, we believe that such sources still offer some potential to inform the understanding of how children encounter, acquire, and use NA languages. Despite such limitations, the studies reviewed here comprise a unique and important body of knowledge.

33.1.3 The path ahead This chapter examines findings from the literature on the L1 acquisition of NA languages, paying particular attention to patterns across languages related to: vocabulary (also called the lexicon), systems of speech sounds (phonology), the parts of words (morphology), and the structure of sentences (syntax). We begin by discussing implications and applications for NA language communities (§ 2) before summarizing and synthesizing findings related to child-directed speech (§ 3) and child speech (§ 4). Our conclusion (§ 5) expresses hope for the application of CDS and child speech studies to Indigenous language work.

33.2 Applications for community language efforts Recent years have seen increased attention to the need for documenting and analyzing child and child-directed speech, particularly within communities undergoing language shift and loss (e.  g., Eisenbeiß 2005; Kelly & Nordlinger 2014; Kelly et al. 2015; Hellwig & Jung 2020; Pye 2020). Such admonitions do not just call for documentation for the sake of language science, but they also highlight the value of documentation for language communities. The kinds of L1 acquisition research reviewed in §§ 3–4, particularly those involving naturalistic speech data (e.  g., Brittain et al. 2007; Chee 2017), can help meet

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this need. Furthermore, the studies we survey can be used to create, measure, develop, and improve resources tailored to a specific language or related languages. In this section, we discuss some of the contributions that such research can make toward community-centered efforts to maintain, sustain, revitalize, and reclaim NA languages. We do not lay out specific strategies, recommendations, and practices for implementation in homes and schools, as that is beyond the scope of this particular chapter. Furthermore, much more work needs to be done to connect L1 acquisition research to language revitalization and reclamation (e.  g., Child Language Research and Revitalization Working Group 2017)—we hope this chapter contributes to building this foundation.

33.2.1 Informing language revitalization and reclamation The study of L1 acquisition can inform efforts to create new generations of speakers, such as immersion schools, master/mentor-apprentice programs, and language curricula across all ages and levels. These kinds of programs continually endeavor to gauge and improve the transmission of NA languages, when science still knows relatively little about how such languages are acquired by children or older learners (see, e.  g., reports from Lokosh (Joshua D. Hinson) 2019; Morgan 2017; Pease-Pretty On Top 2004; Peter & Hirata-Edds 2006; Peter et al., 2008). L1 acquisition research can contribute knowledge about how members of NA language communities speak, and have customarily spoken, to children. This can be especially valuable in contexts where current generations of Elders, parents, and language teachers did not grow up speaking their traditional language and are seeking information about how to raise children in the language. For example, the kinds of research surveyed in § 3 can help identify patterns to use with children, such as particular vocabulary items and phrases, strategies for repetitions and intonational modifications, as well as specific types of linguistic structures—especially for languages with rich methods of building words. Research on L1 acquisition can also inform expectations for children on their journeys to become speakers of their NA languages. Relatively little scientific information is available on the stages and milestones that children may pass in acquiring the characteristic phonological, morphological, and syntactic facets of most NA languages. The findings we survey below can guide parents and teachers to learn more about what to look for in child speech, where particular types of reinforcement may be needed, and more. For communities who have not had child speakers of their traditional languages for many years, findings from related or linguistically similar languages could be adapted to establish guidelines and resources. For communities that are home to language isolates or languages with no relatives represented in this chapter, we hope the general crosslinguistic patterns discussed here can also help inform language work.



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As a final example, the study of L1 acquisition can inform pedagogy and curriculum development. Grounding pedagogical strategies in language-specific acquisition findings allows those strategies to be rooted in the language being taught. This approach Indigenizes teaching strategies, theories, methods, and materials rather than basing them on non-Indigenous language-learning approaches. Upper (1993) and Chee (2017), for instance, not only discuss stages of child development but also the application of such findings to language instruction in Anishininimowin and Navajo (respectively).

33.2.2 Redressing majority-language influence L1 acquisition research can also help language communities better understand and remediate the influence of majority languages, such as English and French, on the speech of younger generations (see, e.  g., Allen et al. 2006; Saville-Troike 1996). For example, Drapeau (1995) finds that children in a community are still acquiring Innu as their mother tongue. However, she also points out that adults will often use French noun phrases with children because they believe the Innu analogues are difficult for children: “In their view the difficulty with [Innu] thus seems to lie in its lexicon and not in its grammar” (1995: 160). Drapeau reports that the ensuing lack of Innu nouns in the linguistic environment has led to an erosion in core Innu vocabulary for children. Multiple L1 acquisition studies of an East Cree corpus (Brittain et al. 2007) have revealed a large English presence in child and child-directed speech (Bryant 2013; Pile 2018; Henke 2020). However, this usage of English seems mostly restricted to nouns rather than verbs, and children seem to retain a primarily Cree-only grammar while applying Cree sound patterns and word building to English borrowings. In both the Innu and East Cree cases, for instance, parents and educators could increase the usage of Indigenous-language nouns when speaking to children to help target this facet of language shift.

33.2.3 Supporting L1 development L1 acquisition research can also contribute to efforts creating linguistically and culturally appropriate methods and resources to assess child language and provide appropriate support to children who may have language delays or disorders (e.  g., Anderson 2015; Ball 2009; Foster et al. 1989; Kidd 2014; Peltier 2011). These tools can be applied in communities where children still learn their traditional language from birth as well as in communities creating new generations of speakers through immersion in language nests and schools. This can include the creation of more Indigenized benchmarks and milestones for typical L1 acquisition, diagnostics and tools for early intervention, and more. For example, Thorburn (2012) distills her research into a guide intended for use in speech-language pathology (SLP), which outlines the L1 acquisition of East Cree speech sounds and syllable structures. Multiple Inuktitut projects have contributed in such

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areas (e.  g., Allen et al., 2019; Crago & Allen 2001; Crago et al. 1991). Crago (1990) offers recommendations for improving Inuktitut-tailored SLP services by helping non-Inuit providers better understand cultural aspects of language socialization. Allen and Dench (2015) analyze 10 different metrics to identify the most useful and practical method of measuring Inuktitut language development. They recommend calculating the length of children’s utterances not in terms of morphemes—the typical standard in English-language assessment—but in terms of syllables. Allen and Dench explain that this method suits Inuktitut linguistic structure, is easy to calculate, and provides a reliable assessment of language level.

33.3 Child-directed speech We use the term child-directed speech (CDS) to signify the language spoken by adults to children. CDS is often called “the input” in the field of L1 acquisition research and has also been referred to as “caretaker speech”, “motherese”, “parentese”, “baby talk”, and more. CDS receives special attention across the theoretical landscape for the particular role its characteristics may (or may not) play for a child in the process of acquiring an L1. For example, academic studies have focused on whether CDS shows modifications from adult-level speech and whether CDS in languages throughout the world exhibits universal linguistic characteristics (e.  g., Snow & Ferguson 1977; Ferguson 1978; Gallaway & Richards 1994; Saint-Georges et al. 2013). The literature on NA languages shows that CDS often uses special varieties of speech (called registers) that are part of the socialization process for children. For example, Thompson (1985) argues that CDS in the Skokomish dialect of Twana is a register of honor and respect that is related to the register used in women’s speech. Crago (1988) details two registers of CDS in Inuktitut and the role they play in teaching children not only their native tongue but also their place in society. This includes routines of repetition and teasing as well as excluding children from adult conversation. Findings from Cocopah, Comanche, and Inuktitut (Crago & Allen 1997) indicate that adults may ease away from using CDS when children are as young as 3;0 and at most when they grow to 5;0 or 6;01. In this section we offer some general observations related to the characteristic of CDS across NA languages. We pay special attention to how adults modify their speech for children in the areas of the lexicon, phonology, morphology, and syntax. Within this body of literature, Inuktitut and East Cree are the most frequently represented, but we also discuss findings from more than ten other NA languages.

1 Children’s ages are given using the standard format year;month. For example, the notation 3;0 indicates an age of three years and zero months.



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33.3.1 Modifications in CDS A recurring theme throughout the literature is the modification of speech to children as a way to help them acquire the language. As one Inuktitut-speaking mother explained to Crago (1988: 162), “I talk in a way not meant for an adult. The language would be too heavy if I talked to [children] as I would to an adult. When they are first learning to understand we should not talk in such a way to them”.

3.1.1 The lexicon The usage of specialized vocabulary has been reported for CDS in several languages, including Acoma, Comanche, East Cree (Jones 1986; 1988; Terry 2010), Inuktitut (Crago 1988; Crago & Allen 1997), Nuu-chah-nulth, Sahaptin, and Twana. Often this child-directed vocabulary derives from words in the adult-level lexicon, typically through reduction, sound substitution, or some other kind of change. For example, Kess and Kess (1986: 209) point out that the CDS forms in Table 1 retain only the first few speech sounds from adult forms. Tab. 1: Words derived from adult-level forms in Nuu-chah-nulth (Ahousaht) Adult form

CDS form

Meaning

tu·xʷši t’i·qši ta·qyiči ya·cši

tu·xʷ t’i·q ta·q ya·c

‘jump!’ ‘sit down!’ ‘stand up!’ ‘walk!’

Source: Kess and Kess (1986: 209).

However, words in CDS may also be completely unrelated to adult-level words. Table 2 presents such examples from Kess and Kess (1986: 205). Tab. 2: Words not derived from adult-level forms in Nuu-chah-nulth (Ahousaht) Adult form

CDS form

Meaning

naqši haʔukʷ’i waʔičuʔi hu·

ma·h pa·paš hu·š ʔi·x

‘drink!’ ‘eat!’ ‘go to sleep!’ ‘watch out!’

Source: Kess and Kess (1986: 209).

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Descriptions of vocabulary indicate that different NA languages use words belonging to similar categories. Evidence from Comanche, East Cree (Jones 1986; 1988), Nuu-chahnulth, and Twana shows that common categories for vocabulary in CDS may include kinship terms, body parts and bodily functions, along with everyday actions, animals, and objects. Miller (1965: 112) reports collecting about 30 words from Acoma CDS, with examples all fitting into these categories, such as: yáay’aa ‘mother’, dyáady’aa ‘daddy’, gə̂əgə́ ‘rabbit’, hə́əy’aa ‘bite’, ʔák’aʔák’a ‘drink’, and babáu ‘sleep’. Another noteworthy component of the child-directed vocabulary is that individual words may be flexible across categories such as nouns and verbs. Miller (1965: 112) says Acoma ʔák’aʔák’a can mean ‘drink’; ‘you drink!’; ‘did you drink?’; ‘I want a drink’; ‘I had a drink’; and more. The child-directed root aahaaq- in Inuktitut can mean ‘to hurt’; ‘thing that causes hurt’; ‘thing that hurts’; and ‘ouch’ (Crago & Allen 1997: 93).

33.3.1.2 Speech sounds and sound structures Common modifications observed in CDS pertain to elements throughout the sound systems of languages. This includes a reduction in the number of speech sounds, often the elimination or substitution of sounds that observers deem more “difficult” or “complex”. Modifications through reductions in speech sounds and syllables have been reported for Comanche, East Cree (Jones 1986; 1988), Inuktitut (Crago & Allen 1997), Nuu-chahnulth (Kess & Kess 1986), and Twana. Crawford (1970; 1978) reports for Cocopah CDS an extensive system of replacing consonants at the beginning of syllables. The replacement of a given sound depends upon the place and manner of articulation of the consonant in the adult-level word form. However, modification in CDS does not always entail reduction. Voegelin and Robinett (1954) attest that adult speakers of Hidatsa will slow and emphasize speech, lengthen and exaggerate particular speech sounds, and carefully pronounce clusters of speech sounds that would typically be reduced—all as ways of clarifying structures for children. CDS in Anishininimowin (also called Severn Ojibwe or Oji-Cree) and Nuu-chahnulth has also been reported to use pitch/intonation modification and exaggeration (Kess & Kess 1986: 203; Upper 1993: 121). Processes of pronunciation in Dëne Sųłıné can obscure the forms of morphemes and words, so CDS employs repetition, variation, and careful speech articulations to clarify these forms for children (Hellwig & Jung 2020). In speech communities around the world, adults speaking to children will often systematically repeat words or parts of words (a process known as reduplication). Reduplication features prominently in CDS across many languages and varieties such as Acoma, Algonquin (a dialect of Ojibwe), Cocopah, Comanche, East Cree, Nuu-chah-nulth, and Sahaptin (Chamberlain 1890; Chamberlain 1893; Jones 1986; Jones 1988; Kess & Kess 1986). This can include the usage of reduplication more frequently or distinctly from patterns in adult speech. For example, Crago and Allen (1997) note the prominence of



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reduplication in Inuktitut forms that are used with children compared to those used with adults (Table 3). Tab. 3: Reduplication in Inuktitut child-directed forms Adult form

CDS form

Translation

ipiq niqi qimmiq umajuq nunakkuujuuq

aaqqaaq apaapa lulu uquuqu vuvu

‘dirt’ ‘food’ ‘dog’ ‘animal’ ‘vehicle’

Source: Crago & Allen 1997: 96–97

33.3.1.3 Morphology and syntax Many NA languages are well known for their rich word- and sentence-building characteristics, which also may be modified in CDS. For example, East Cree has a diminutive suffix -(i)sh, which creates a meaning of smallness, cuteness, and/or affection (Cunningham 2008). Forms using this suffix pervade East Cree CDS (Jones 1986; 1988; Terry 2010), and the diminutive noun pîpîsh ‘little baby, little doll’ from pîpî ‘baby’ is one of the most common word forms used with children (Henke 2020). Accounts detail some reductions with the parts of words in CDS for languages such as Inuktitut (Crago 1988) and Nuu-chah-nulth (Kess & Kess 1986). Thompson (1985) reports that Twana CDS reduces the overall number of affixes from the adult grammar. Jones (1986; 1988) posits that reduction within words is a crucial part of the path of East Cree CDS over time: She surmises that as children grow older, adults move from using uninflected child forms to simply inflected forms to fully inflected adult forms. This does not mean that CDS in NA languages necessarily lacks rich word-building elements. Inuktitut CDS, for instance, contains very few uninflected verb roots (Crago & Allen 2001) and employs much more affixation than found in English CDS (Crago, Allen & Pesco 1998). For example, the child-directed verb in (1) uses six suffixes compared to the single verbal suffix -ing that appears in the English translation (1998: 40). (1)        

Inuktitut (Crago, Allen & Pesco 1998: 40)2 Aataartaulangasijualunga. aataaq-jauluruna-si-juq-aluk-una hurt-pass-fut-prs-ptcp.3sg.sbj-emph-this.one ‘That guy is going to get hurt.’

2 Abbreviations follow the Leipzig Glossing Rules. Exceptions are: emph = emphastic; inan = inanimate; int = interrogative.

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In some NA languages, CDS can entail reductions in sentence structures or a prevalence of a limited number of sentence types. This includes reports of grammatical but short utterances in Anishininimowin, and Upper (1993: 122) provides an example of CDS to a child age 1;0 that employs repetition and short structures in succession (2). Descriptions of CDS in Comanche (Casagrande 1948: 13) and Twana (Thompson 1985: 175–176) point out even shorter structures of single “baby words” as stand-alone sentences. (2)    

Anishininimowin (Upper 1993: 122) Ohowe kiniin na. Awanen aha. ‘Look at this!’ ‘Who’s that, eh?’

Awanen aha. ‘Who is that?’

Aacic? ‘Baby?’

Anishininimowin CDS also frequently uses commands as well as yes-no questions (Upper 1993). Terry (2010) reports that questions and commands together represent the majority of utterance types in East Cree CDS as well. Research on argument structure in CDS has come primarily in Inuktitut, which exhibits ergative-absolutive marking in morphology but nominative-accusative alignment in syntax. Allen (2013: 89) explains that CDS almost exclusively employs structures such as antipassives, passives, and noun incorporation that avoid the usage of ergative-absolutive marking. In other words, adults use intransitive structures that nonetheless convey to children propositions involving two arguments. Furthermore, passive constructions occupy a prominent place in Inuktitut CDS and occur almost three times more frequently than in English CDS (Allen & Crago 1996). Johansson (2012a; 2012b) finds even higher rates of passives in East Cree CDS, although her small sample size likely skews the number.

33.3.2 CDS without modifications The modifications outlined above are not universal to CDS in NA languages, nor do reductions and simplifications necessarily persist throughout all levels of a given language. For example, Fee and Shaw’s (1998) study finds no significant difference in pitch between child- and adult-directed speech in Mi’kmaq. They speculate that perhaps CDS may not contain such modifications because children in the community “are expected to be independent and are treated very much as equals with adults” (1998: 54). In a similar vein, Terry (2010) anecdotally observes that CDS in East Cree does not contain special modifications in pitch. East Cree CDS also does not necessarily reduce all forms of word building throughout the grammar. CDS employs the full range of inflection for nouns, including in sentences without verbs such as (3), where the noun spitun ‘arm’ has one prefix and two suffixes. Nouns in CDS frequently include possessive forms bearing multiple affixes, but some particular meanings and parts of words are much more frequently used than others with children (Henke 2019; 2020).



(3)        

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East Cree (Henke 2020: 225) Mâuhî mîn chispituniniuh. mâu-hî mîn chi-spitun-iniu-h dem-inan.pl again 2-arm-1pl.incl-inan.pl ‘And here are our arms.’

Within the child-directed lexicon in Inuktitut, “baby roots” are heavily outnumbered by adult-level roots, so children do not necessarily encounter simplification there (Crago & Allen 1997: 101). Furthermore, the usage of CDS-specific roots may actually complicate the acquisitional task for children by essentially doubling their word-learning workload: “Baby words must be learned and then discarded in favor of a supplementary adult lexicon, and all within the first three years of a child’s life” (1997: 101). The usage of baby words in Inuktitut also does not always necessarily simplify word structure for children either. Crago reports that adults inflect child-directed words with “quite complex” forms on occasion (1988: 161), and Crago and Allen (1997: 101) make a similar observation.

33.4 Child speech In this section we turn the lens toward speech produced by children acquiring NA languages. Inuktitut, East Cree, and Navajo are the most frequently studied languages in existing literature. We also discuss reports from 17 other language varieties that represent nine language families and three language isolates. Again, we consider findings pertaining to the development of sounds and sound structures, vocabulary, parts of words, and structure of sentences.

33.4.1 Sound and sound structures Children acquiring any language must build up their mastery of speech sounds over time, and all children can be expected to change, substitute, or delete individual sounds during this process. A handful of studies mention the presence and acquisition of individual consonantal sounds by children in NA languages. Table 4 lists some of the categories of speech sounds observed in child speech. Stops (such as the bolded sounds in English words bus, toy, and kitten) are the most frequently reported segments, followed by nasals (as in mommy and no) and then affricates (as in church and juice) and fricatives (as in think, stop, and zipper). Kroeber (1916: 534), for example, observes a Zuni-speaking child producing stops /p, t, m, n, ʔ/ at age 1;11 and by age 2;0 uses the affricate /ts/, but not “the fricatives s or c, surd L, nor any glottalized consonant.” Cook (2006) surmises that the order of acquisition for consonantal segments in Dëne Sųłiné children is stops > affricates > fricatives.

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Tab. 4: Consonant sounds used in NA child speech Language

Stops

Nasals

Zuni Comanche Pomo Dëne Sųłiné East Cree

✓  ✓  ✓  ✓  ✓ 

✓  ✓    ✓  ✓ 

Affricates

Fricatives

   

   

✓  ✓  ✓ 

✓  ✓  ✓ 

Sources: Kroeber 1916; Casagrande 1948; Oswalt 1976; Cook 2006; Thorburn 2010; 2012; 2014; Bryant 2013

Children attempt to produce sounds they hear as they learn to speak their native language. During this process native children may use a variety of speech sounds that they have learned until they are able to produce the adult form. In the acquisition of individual speech sounds, various substitutions have been reported for Comanche, East Cree (Bryant 2013; Thorburn 2010; 2012; 2014), and Navajo (Saville-Troike 1996; Chee 2017). Although Indigenous languages employ different sound systems, children tend to produce certain sounds before using other sounds available to them. One common pattern is the usage of stops in place of consonants that are considered to be difficult to articulate. Cook (2006: 243) found similar patterns in one child’s Dëne Sųłiné speech. At age 2;03, the Dëne Sųłiné child substitutes the stops [t] for /ɫ/, [d] for /t’/, and [g] for both /k’/ /ɣ/. Another example is found in Cocopah, Nlaka’pamux, and Pomo where children are reported to replace /q/ with [k], another stop consonant. Regarding syllable structure, some of the earliest child vocalizations around the world are one-syllable consonant-vowel (CV) combinations. The early emergence of these syllables for very young children has also been reported for Anishininimowin, Mohawk (Mithun 1989), Navajo (Saville-Troike 1996), Quileute, and Zuni. CV syllables are the most commonly used structures in NA child speech for Algonquian, Anishininimowin, Comanche, Dakota, Dëne Sųłiné (Cook 2006), Hopi, Kutenai, Mohawk (Feurer 1980; Mithun 1989), Pomo, and Quileute. Upon further analysis of Chee’s child language data, this is also true for Navajo. Children combine units of consonants and vowels to produce their first words and to begin building longer words. Thorburn (2010; 2012; 2014) says the CV syllable is the default syllable structure for one East Cree child, age 2;01. This child used CV syllables in place of other syllable types available in East Cree which led Thorburn to conclude that the CV syllable type is acquired before all other syllable types. A different pattern emerges from Chee’s data where Navajo children syllabify nasal consonants in CV sequences, using n for ni and ń for ní. In fact, Navajo children tend to delete vowels from CV syllables and produce consonant clusters uncommon in adult speech. For example, the youngest child, age 4;07, produced ńł’į ́ which is closer to CDS níł’į ́ rather than the full form, níníł’į ́ ‘you look at it’. In production, the ńł’- constitutes a single consonant resulting in a monosyllabic unit. Native children have been reported to



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change, replace, simplify, or delete syllables in their attempts to speak their languages. Table 5 lists a few examples of sound changes. Tab. 5: Syllable and sound changes in NA child speech Language

Child speech

Target form

Meaning

Algonquin Quileute Hopi Dakota Navajo Navajo

kakac ā’ā’ kwaʔa kóka kaya zhiní

ki kakaciki kā’ayo’ ikwaʔa ŝũkã́

‘dirt, filth, uncleanliness’ ‘crow’ ‘my grandfather’ ‘horse’ ‘he is eating’ ‘one said’

ayą́ jiní

Sources: Chamberlain 1890; Frachtenberg 1920; Titiev 1946; Nokony 1977; Saville-Troike 1996; Chee 2017

Reduplication is a common strategy found in child speech around the world, and it is also a prominent pattern found in Indigenous child speech. Table 6 lists examples of reduplication from several NA languages. Researchers of Algonquian, Anishininimowin, Dakota, and Navajo (Saville-Troike 1996) also mention the use of reduplication. Reduplication may be present in many other NA languages which do not yet have extensive child speech studies conducted on them. Tab. 6: Reduplication in NA child speech Language

Child speech

Target form

Meaning

Mohawk Zuni Quileute Hopi Comanche Cocopah Inuktitut East Cree

tata we’we dīˈdi‘ táta ʔeroró·ʔ vánván piupuu kiikii

kanà:taro wa’tsita yiˈsdak‘ itáʔa táivo·ʔ xasány piuaahkuhiiwaau

‘bread’ ‘dog’ ‘clothes’ ‘my father’ ‘white man’ ‘little girl’ ‘be nice’ ‘it causes hurt’

Sources: Chamberlain 1890; Kroeber 1916; Frachtenberg 1920; Titiev 1946; Casagrande 1948; Crawford 1970; Crawford 1978; Crago & Allen 1997; Terry 2010

Many NA languages, and other languages across the world, tend to use words that have a primary stress, an emphasized part of a word, or an accented syllable. Compare the following examples in English: “I bought you a present,” versus “I present you with a gift.” The study of stress in NA child languages has received dedicated attention solely in East Cree (Swain 2008; Rose et al. 2010; Rose & Brittain 2011). The speech of one East Cree child, age 2;01 to 4;01, featured stress on the last syllable of every word they

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produced in their earliest production. The child applied word-final stress to words that should not have it. Over time, they begin to correctly use words that require a stress on the second to the last syllable, before moving on to master words with stress on the third from the last syllable. In East Cree child speech, final-syllable stress is the default stress. Other literature indicates that stressed or emphasized syllables, whether at the beginning, middle, or end of words, play a special role in L1 acquisition. Studies from Anishininimowin (Upper 1993), East Cree (Terry 2010), and Navajo (Saville-Troike 1996; Chee 2017) indicate that children begin by producing syllables that are word-final and stressed when used by adults in these languages. Children acquiring Mohawk (Feurer 1980; Mithun 1989) use stressed syllables that occur in the middle of a Mohawk word. In adult Mohawk speech, words usually have stress in the second or third to the last syllable, and these are the syllables children tend to produce early on. According to Kroeber (1916), Zuni words tend to stress the first syllable. The Zuni-speaking child in this study produced the first syllables of words while deleting unstressed and final syllables. Stressed syllables in NA languages are one feature that guides children in learning their heritage language.

33.4.2 The lexicon Studies of young children’s speech in Anishininimowin and Dakota indicate that gestures and non-word vocalizations play an important role as pre-word elements. After the pre-word stage, children begin to produce meaningful syllables and then words. Evidence from different NA languages also show differences in early word category development. The earliest word forms in Dakota child speech typically refer to familiar people and objects as well as events, situations, and actions. One study of Navajo claims that the earliest word forms for children tend to be nouns, despite the fact that verbs predominate in CDS (Gentner & Boroditsky 2009). Chee, however, makes two interesting observations regarding the younger children in her 2017 study, ages 4;07 and 5;10. When these children asked for assistance in how to say Navajo words, they more often asked their caretakers about nouns than verbs. For example, one child asked how to say the Navajo word for tree, but never asked how to say verb words and instead made attempts at producing them. At age 4;11 one child attempted the following words: tsooskaa for deesk’aaz ‘it is cold’ and as’ts’ánałk’aaz for bits’ániłk’aaz ‘cold is coming from it’. This child used their own knowledge of Navajo to piece together verb words without requesting assistance. The usage of words that imitate the sounds they describe, known as onomatopoeia, also plays a prominent role in child vocabulary for many NA languages. Table 7 lists a few examples, which includes several words for animals based on their perceived vocalizations.



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Tab. 7: Onomatopoeic word forms in child speech Language

Child form

Meaning

Comanche Dakota Anishininimowin Inuktitut Navajo

ʔumó·ʔ ʔʌʔʌ́m maow vuvugaa

‘cattle, cow, bull’ ‘horse’ ‘cat’ ‘vehicle’ ‘crow’

Sources: Casagrande 1948; Nokony 1977; Nokony 1978; Upper & McKay 1987; Crago & Allen 1997; Courtney & Saville-Troike 2002

It is well established in L1 acquisition research that children will often use one-word units in place of larger, multi-word utterances. Such one-word units are known as holophrases, and several studies report the use of these type of utterances by children acquiring NA languages. Table 8 provides a few examples. Tab. 8: Holophrases in early child speech Language

Child speech

Meaning

Algonquin Pomo Dakota Anishininimowin Inuktitut Navajo

numna baʔba póya kookoochak apaapa t’óólzį ́

‘it is sweet’ ‘asking for food’ ‘I’ve cut a piece of paper’ ‘are the monsters outside?’ ‘I want to eat’ ‘it is just standing there’

Sources: Chamberlain 1890; Oswalt 1976; Nokony 1977; Upper & McKay 1988; Crago, Allen & Pesco 1998; Chee 2017

Borrowed words from English and French, certainly acquired from CDS, have been reported in child vocabulary from studies dating as far back as the late 19th century (see Appendix). Although borrowings may appear in a child’s vocabulary, this does not mean that English or French grammars are necessarily dominant. Drapeau (1995) reports that children use more French-origin nouns than Innu nouns, as the result of patterns in CDS, but that these children are nonetheless monolingual Innu speakers. Pile (2018) and Henke (2020) find high rates of English elements, particularly nouns, in the speech of children acquiring East Cree, but these elements occur within an East Cree grammar.

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Tab. 9: Borrowed words in child speech Language

Child form

Source

Meaning

Algonquin Comanche Dakota Anishininimowin

kakac pikí·ʔ háti bebii

French caca English pig English hockey English baby

‘dirty’ ‘pig’ ‘hockey’ ‘baby’

Sources: Chamberlain 1890; Casagrande 1948; Nokony 1977; Upper & McKay 1988

33.4.3 Morphology and syntax Studies also examine the emergence and usage of word-building elements and sentence structures in child speech within several NA languages. Children from around the world learning languages often omit various parts of words in their earliest attempts, but no single pattern of omission clearly predominates across child speech in NA languages. For example, studies have found that Algonquin, Anishininimowin, Comanche, Dakota, East Cree, Hopi, Inuktitut, Mohawk, Navajo, Quileute, and Zuni children leave out parts of words in their speech. Some evidence indicates that NA children tend to omit parts of words that occur away from stressed syllables. Evidence also shows that they tend to retain perceptually salient portions of words, noticeable and relevant sections such as those occurring at word boundaries (e.  g., Allen 2017; Chee 2017; Johansson 2012a; Mithun 1989; Terry 2010). Children have been reported to initially use words stripped of inflection in languages such as Anishininimowin (Upper 1993), Inuktitut (Crago & Allen 1998; 2001; Swift 2001), and Navajo (Saville-Troike 1996; Chee 2017). Cross-linguistic similarities and divergences occur in the acquisition of morphology marking person in verbs. Studies of child speech in East Cree (Terry 2010; Rose & Brittain 2011; Johansson 2012a; Henke 2020), Mohawk (Feurer 1980; Mithun 1989), and some Inuit varieties (Allen 2017; Fortescue & Olsen 1992) found that children acquire the first-person singular marking (meaning ‘I’) early in development. In Mohawk and Inuit languages, the first- and second-person singular pronominal markings (‘I’ and ‘you’) are produced earlier than third-person (as in ‘she’, ‘he’, or ‘they’) markings. Wilman (1988) observed Inuit children frequently using third-person verbs by age 6;0. First-person pronominal marking and the unmarked third-person each tend to be used earlier and more often than second-person marking by East Cree-speaking children. Navajo children use -sh-, the first-person singular pronominal marking (20.2 percent) more often than the second-person singular pronominal marking -ni- (2.9 percent) in intransitive verbs (Chee 2017). Chee (2017) also found Navajo third-person singular intransitive verbs are highly frequent (68 percent) in child speech. Singular verbs are reported to be acquired before plural verbs and finally, dual-plural verbs are last to be used by children speaking some NA languages (Mithun 1989; Chee 2017).



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Evidence from NA languages indicates that certain types of argument structures are particularly prevalent in child speech. Intransitive constructions, for instance, appear earlier than transitive constructions in child speech for Inuktitut (Allen 2013), Navajo (Chee 2017), East Cree (Johansson 2012a; 2012b; Terry 2010), Mohawk (Feurer 1980; Mithun 1989), and West Greenlandic (Fortescue & Olsen 1992). Chee (2017) found that Navajo children used intransitive verbs (77 percent) much more frequently than transitive verbs (22 percent). Ditransitive verbs (1 percent) were rarely represented in the data. Example (4) shows an intransitive verb produced by a Navajo-speaking child. (4)      

Yíkai yí-Ø-d-kai ipfv-3pl.distr-clf-walk ‘They all (three or more) arrived.’



(age 4;07, Navajo, Chee 2017)

Passive constructions such as, “The book was read (by the girl),” compared to active constructions, “The girl read the book,” have long been a central focus of L1 acquisition research, in part because children comprehend and produce passives in English at relatively late ages (Deen 2011). Several studies have explored child usage and comprehension of passive constructions in NA languages. For example, Johansson (2012a; 2012b) found that one child acquired the East Cree passives in three stages, moving from memorized chunks to a phase of errors and self-corrections before attaining full command by age 5;10. Inuktitut children use passive constructions much earlier than children learning English. The use of Inuktitut passive constructions begin as early as age 2;0, due in part to factors such as the frequency of passives in Inuktitut CDS (Allen 1996; 2013; Allen & Crago 1996). The passive verb form in (5) was spoken by an Inuktitut child (Allen & Crago 1996: 139). (5)        

Inuktitut (age 2;11, Allen & Crago 1996: 139) Ilai tuttualuit aijaujuit. tuttu-aluk-it ai-jau-juq-it ilai right caribou-emph-abl.pl get-pass-nom-abl.pl ‘The caribou are being gotten, right?’

Child speech in West Greenlandic also uses passives, but children are increasingly replacing them with pseudo-passives, causative affixes that have a passive interpretation when used (Allen 1996; Fortescue & Olsen 1992). Studies report the use of causatives in East Cree (Johansson 2012a; 2012b; Pile 2018; Terry 2010), Mohawk (Mithun 1989), West Greenlandic (Fortescue & Olsen 1992), and Inuktitut child speech. Inuktitut children use lexical causatives before causative morphology (Allen 1996; 1998; Crago & Allen 1998). Children also demonstrate early acquisition of noun incorporation, a compounding process whereby a noun is integrated into a verb, in some NA languages. Basic Inuktitut noun incorporation is utilized as early as age 1;01 (Allen 1996; 2017; Allen & Crago 1992; 1996; Crago & Allen 1998). About a year later, children acquiring West Greenlandic use

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noun incorporation productively (Allen & Crago 1989; Fortescue 1984; Fortescue & Olsen 1992). For example, in (6) an Inuktitut-speaking child uses the noun stem tutu- ‘caribou’ outside of the verb, but in (7) he incorporates the same noun stem into the verb. (6)        

Inuktitut Qukisigakku tuttualu. qukiq-si-gakku shoot-prs-caus.1sg.sbj.3sg.obj ‘I’ll shoot the caribou.’

(7)        

Inuktitut Tuttusiulaaqinuk? tuttu-siuq-laaq-vinuk caribou-look.for-fut-int.1du.sbj ‘Will we go look for caribou?’

(age 2;11, Allen 1996: 167–168)

  tuttu-aluk-∅ caribou-emph-abs.sg     

(age 2;11, Allen 1996: 167–168)

 

Some of the early production of noun incorporation may be due to frequency in CDS as well as the positional salience, or significance due to the location of incorporated elements in the verb (Allen & Crago 1989; 1992). The usage of noun incorporation among Inuit children includes interpreting and processing, as well as using a variety of verbs (Parkinson 1999; Wilman 1988). In contrast, noun incorporation also appears in Mohawk child speech, but it is not used as frequently or productively (Feurer 1980; Mithun 1989) as in Inuit languages.

33.4.4 Summary Studies across a variety of NA languages provide insight into how NA children learn their mother tongues. Young children begin with simple elements and structures to express themselves and to convey meaning at an early age. As children grow, their language grows allowing them to develop even more elements of their language. They begin to incorporate additional linguistic elements that are useful and manageable to them. Eventually, children start to produce more complicated structures in their sound systems, vocabulary, word forms, and sentences. One particularly noticeable pattern is that children acquiring NA languages use complex grammatical structures at very young ages.

33.5 Conclusion The literature on CDS and child speech in NA languages offers unique insight into L1 acquisition and exciting contributions for communities interested in assessing, teaching, revitalizing, and reclaiming their Indigenous languages. We look forward to the



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findings of existing ongoing efforts as well as the future studies that will develop as more and more children acquire NA languages as their mother tongues. We hope that future efforts in particular can include broader, deeper, and more naturalistic data. This will help communities and researchers better connect findings from various Native American languages to each other and bring insight from past linguistic environments to those of the present and future.

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Swift, Mary D. 2001. The development of temporal reference in Inuktitut child language. Austin: University of Texas at Austin PhD dissertation. Swift, Mary D. 2003. Early time reference in Inuktitut child language: The role of event realization and aspectual interpretation. University of Massachusetts Occasional Papers in Linguistics 28. 193–202. Swift, Mary D. 2008. Time in child Inuktitut: A developmental study of an Eskimo-Aleut language. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Teit, James Alexander. 1912. Part II: Mythology of the Thompson Indians. In Franz Boas (ed.), Publications of the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Vol. VIII, 199–416. Leiden: E. J. Brill. Terry, Kevin. 2010. The emergence of intransitive verb inflection in Northern East Cree: A case study. St. John’s: Memorial University of Newfoundland MA thesis. www.mun.ca/cclas/work_completed/student_ theses/Terry_MA_NEC_verbinflection.pdf. Thompson, Nile Robert. 1985. Twana baby talk and its theoretical implications. Seattle: University of Washington PhD dissertation. Thorburn, Jennifer. 2010. On the acquisition of segments and syllables types: A case study of a firstlanguage learner of Northern East Cree. Comprehensive paper. St. John’s: Memorial University of Newfoundland. Unpublished manuscript. http://www.mun.ca/cclas/work_completed/student_theses/ Thorburn_comp_final.pdf. Thorburn, Jennifer. 2012. Learning Northern East Cree. Department of Linguistics, Memorial University. Unpublished manuscript. https://www.mun.ca/cclas/work_completed/student_theses/SLP_ manuscript-Thorburn.pdf. Thorburn, Jennifer. 2014. Acquiring Northem East Cree: A case study. In J. Randolph Valentine & Monica Macaulay (eds.), Papers of the 42nd Algonquian Conference, 263–280. Albany: SUNY Press. Titiev, Mischa. 1946. Suggestions for the further study of Hopi. International Journal of American Linguistics 12(2). 89–91. Upper, Mary. 1993. Lessons from language acquisition: Reports on a study of Oji-Cree first language learning in the home. In Jo-Ann Archibald, Sheena Selkirk (eds.), Selected papers from the 1988 and 1990 Mokakit conferences: Establishing pathways to excellence in First Nations Education, 109–124. Vancouver, BC: Mokakit Indian Education Research Association. Upper, Mary & Modina McKay. 1987. Acquisition of Oji-Cree as a first language: A preliminary study of children’s language development, Phase 1. Toronto: Ontario Institute for Studies in Education. Upper, Mary & Modina McKay. 1988. Acquisition of Oji-Cree as a first language: A preliminary study of children’s language development, Phase 1 supplementary report. Toronto: Ontario Institute for Studies in Education. Voegelin, Carl F. & Florence M. Robinett. 1954. “Mother language” in Hidatsa. International Journal of American Linguistics 20(1). 65–70. Weeks, Thelma. 1973. A note on Sahaptin baby talk. In Papers and Reports on Child Language Development 5. 65–67. Wilman, David. 1988. The natural language of Inuit children: A key to lnuktitut literacy. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico PhD dissertation. Young, Rodney W. 1971. The development of semantic categories in Spanish-English and Navajo-English bilingual children. In Conference on Child Language, 193–208. Chicago: ERIC. https://files.eric.ed.gov/ fulltext/ED060749.pdf. Zwanziger, Elizabeth E., Shanley E. M. Allen & Fred Genesee. 2005. Crosslinguistic influence in bilingual acquisition: Subject omission in learners of Inuktitut and English. Journal of Child Language 32(4). 893–909.



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Appendix Published research and observations on child, child-directed speech in NA languages Family

Language Variety

Sources

Algonquin

Chamberlain 1890; 1893

Anishininimowin ­(Oji-Cree)

Hack & Mellow 2007; Mellow 2010; Upper 1993; Upper & McKay 1987; 1988

East Cree

Brittain & Rose forthcoming; Brittain et al. 2007; Bryant 2013; Henke 2019; 2020; forthcoming; Johansson 2012a; 2012b; Jones 1986; 1988; Pile 2018; Rose & Brittain 2011; Rose et al. 2010; Swain 2008; Terry 2010; Thorburn 2010; 2012; 2014

Innu

Drapeau 1995

Mi’kmaq

Fee & Shaw 1998

Myaamia

Leonard 2007

Quileute

Frachtenberg 1920

Inuktitut

Allen 1996; 1998; 2000; 2013; 2017; Allen & Crago 1989; 1992; 1996; Allen & Dench 2015; Allen & Schröder 2003; Allen, Crago & Pesco 2006; Allen, Dench & Isakson 2019; Crago 1988; 1990; Crago & Allen 1997; 1998; 2001; Crago, Allen & Pesco 1998; Crago et al. 1991; Parkinson 1999; Skarabela 2007; Swift 2001; 2003; 2006; 2008; Wilman 1988; Zwanziger, Allen & Genesee 2005

Greenlandic

Engberg-Pedersen & Trondhjem 2004; Fortescue 1984; Fortescue & Olsen 1992

Various Inuit ­languages

Allen 2017

Mohawk

Chamberlain 1890; 1893; Feurer 1980; Mithun 1989

Haida

Boas 1891; Chamberlain 1893

Kutenai

Chamberlain 1893

Zuni

Kroeber 1916

Acoma

Miller 1965

Dëne Sųłiné

Cook 2006; Hellwig & Jung 2020

Na-Dene

Navajo

(Chee 2007; Chee 2017; Courtney & Saville-Troike 2000; Courtney & Saville-Troike 2002; Foster et al. 1989; Gentner & Boroditsky 2009; Iris 1981; Iris 1984; Saville-Troike 1996; Young 1971)

Plateau Penutian

Sahaptin

Weeks 1973

Pomoan

Pomo

Oswalt 1976

Algonquian

Chimakuan

Eskimo– Aleut

Iroquoian

Isolates

Keresan

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Siouan

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Language Variety

Sources

Nlaka’pamux

Egesdal 1984; Teit 1912

Twana

Thompson 1985

Dakota

Nokony 1977; 1978

Hidatsa

Voegelin & Robinett 1954

UtoAztecan

Comanche

Casagrande 1948

Hopi

Titiev 1946

Wakashan

Nuu-chah-nulth

(Kess & Kess 1986; Sapir 1915; Sapir 1929)

Yuman

Cocopah

Crawford 1970; 1978

Kari A. B. Chew, Wesley Y. Leonard, and Daisy Rosenblum

34 Decolonizing Indigenous language pedagogies: Additional language learning and teaching Abstract: Given the experiences of colonization common to North American Indigenous communities, people learn Indigenous languages in situations with multiple layers of removal: communities from land; relations from intergenerational continuity; and grammar from real communicative contexts, places, and spirituality. Indigenous languages are often taught in ways inscribed by norms and assumptions associated with dominant language pedagogies, which can further these removals by reproducing colonial power dynamics. Considering current research and examples within the decolonial framework of language reclamation, which emphasizes community needs and values as the starting point for developing language work, we discuss how Indigenous language pedagogies can reflect Indigenous knowledge systems and nurture wellbeing. Engaging decolonization as a guiding principle, we shift away from normative Second Language Acquisition models, which can be incongruent with the aspirations of Indigenous communities for their languages, and instead employ a framework of additional language learning. We provide an overview of pedagogical strategies for Indigenous language reclamation and discuss how they can be implemented to create and sustain spaces and opportunities for people and languages to flourish.

34.1 Introduction Pedagogies are often thought of as simply the methods and practices of teaching. However, pedagogies also include the broader underlying theories and ideologies guiding their development and implementation. Couched within cultural norms, power relations, and institutional goals, these methods and practices are thus never neutral. Across North America, many approaches to teaching Indigenous languages rely heavily on norms and assumptions associated with teaching dominant Western languages (Hermes and Dyke 2019; Holden 2020; Mellow 2000; Rosborough, Rorick, and Urbanczyk 2017). Within these approaches, Indigenous languages tend to be reduced to translations of dominant languages, thereby overlooking “the rich worldview and knowledge embedded in [Indigenous] languages” (Rosborough, Rorick, and Urbanczyk 2017: 428). Problematically, this decontextualization of Indigenous languages from their community and cultural contexts also fails to meet the goals of Indigenous language learners and sustain their motivations (King and Hermes 2014; McIvor 2015). Building on a growing body of literature that identifies cultural and linguistic continuity as crucial for Indigenous community wellbeing (e.  g., Hallett, Chandler, and Lalonde 2007; https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-034

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McIvor, Napoleon, and Dickie 2009; Oster et al. 2014; Taff et al. 2018; Whalen, Moss, and Baldwin 2016), this chapter describes how language pedagogies can both reflect Indigenous knowledge systems and meet the needs of learners and teachers. As authors, we explore this issue through our perspectives as Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars working across the fields of Education, Indigenous Studies, Anthropology, and Linguistics in what are currently the United States and Canada.1 We begin by introducing ourselves in order to make visible our positionalities, relationships, and embodied ways of knowing (Magnat 2014; Rosborough and Rorick 2017). – Chokma, saholhchifoat Kari Chew. Chikashsha saya. Chikashshanompa’ ithanali. Chikashshi̲ yaakni’ attali. [Greetings, my name is Kari Chew. I am a Chickasaw citizen. I’m learning the Chickasaw language. I live in the Chickasaw Nation.] Because of my ancestors’ forced Removal from our southeastern homelands in the 1830s and enduring pressures to assimilate, my family did not speak Chikashshanompa’ for generations. As a language learner, I aspire to restore Chikashshanompa’ as a family language. I advocate for Indigenous-led scholarship (e.  g., McIvor and Chew 2021) and work with the Chickasaw Nation on language education projects. – aya, Wesley Leonard weenswiaani. niila myaamia. [Hello, my name is Wesley Leonard. I am Miami.] I was greatly influenced by my grandfather, who emphasized that research could support the reclamation of our language, myaamiaataweenki, which was a sleeping language for about thirty years and wrongly deemed “extinct” within the categories of Western science. In response, I became a linguist with a focus on language reclamation. Although I was raised in Ohio in ancestral Miami homelands, I now work at the University of California, Riverside, as a guest on the lands of the Cahuilla, Tongva, Serrano, and Luiseño peoples. – Hello, my name is Daisy Rosenblum. I am a non-Indigenous person working at the University of British Columbia as a guest on the traditional, ancestral, and unceded lands of the hən̓q̓əmin̓əm̓-speaking Musqueam people. I was raised in Lenape territory and became a linguist after several years working with multilingual communities in New York, as a teacher, artist, and advocate. My current work involves a long-term partnership with the Gwa’sala-’Nakwaxda’xw Nations engaged in reclamation of Bak̕wa̱ mk̕ala, a dialect of Kwak̓wala. My involvement with language originates with the many languages my grandparents spoke, among them Catalán, Yiddish, Ukrainian, and Hamburg German, none of which I was raised to speak. Together, we acknowledge and thank the many people who have shared with us their insights and experiences about Indigenous language pedagogies; their collective wisdom

1 We adopt for this chapter the convention of capitalizing the names of academic disciplines and their frameworks, but using lower case to refer to the work that occurs within them.

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is reflected throughout this chapter.2 We begin by situating decolonization as a guiding principle for our discussion of Indigenous language pedagogies. We shift away from normative Second Language Acquisition models, which are often incongruent with the aspirations of Indigenous communities for their languages, and instead employ a framework of additional language learning. We then give attention to pedagogical strategies for Indigenous language reclamation before moving into analysis of how pedagogies can be implemented to create and sustain spaces and opportunities for people and languages to flourish.

34.2 Decolonization as a guiding principle for ­Indigenous language pedagogies A fundamental intention and outcome of colonial policies has been the disruption and suppression of the Indigenous ecologies of language and culture from the places and situations in which they thrive. For this reason, many Indigenous languages exist in ongoing contexts of removal: communities removed from their original lands, grammatical constructions removed from real communicative contexts, speakers removed from their full community roles, ecological knowledge removed from places, and spiritual connections removed from everything. Decolonization represents a guiding principle for theorizing Indigenous language pedagogies because it responds to this removal by centering the sovereignty, peoplehood, intellectual traditions, cultural values, and agency of Indigenous Nations (Leonard 2018; McCarty and Nicholas 2012; Michel 2012; Twitchell 2018). Decolonizing the concept of language is a critical step toward decolonizing Indigenous language pedagogies. In the field of Linguistics, “a language” is commonly framed as an object containing a set of shared grammatical patterns and vocabulary. In Indigenous ways of knowing, however, “language” often includes culture, peoplehood, spirituality, and land (Leonard 2017). Rather than a cognitive system of rules for making “good” sentences, language can be viewed as a right, a connection to ancestors, a means for expressing cultural truths, a way to speak and listen to land, and a tool for communicating with loved ones. Embracing such community views, we operationalize language reclamation as an “effort by a community to claim its right to speak a language and to

2 This chapter grew out of the “Decolonizing Indigenous Language Pedagogies” Talk Story workshop facilitated by the authors at the 5th International Conference on Language Documentation & Conservation (ICLDC 2017). The Talk Story workshops were sponsored by the National Science Foundation Documenting Endangered Languages Program under grant BCS-1614134. Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed in this chapter are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation.

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set associated goals in response to community needs and perspectives” (Leonard 2012: 359; see also Leonard 2011: 141, 2017). A language reclamation framework thus emphasizes how the study of language learning requires alignment with the diverse realities and goals of Indigenous communities. Following an emerging convention among some scholars and practitioners of Indigenous language pedagogies, we adopt “additional language learning” rather than “Second Language Acquisition” (e.  g., Chew et al. 2021; McIvor 2015, 2020; Rātima and Papesch 2014). The Australian Federation of Modern Language Teachers Associations Inc., for example, prefers the term “additional” to “second” for many reasons, including “to avoid ‘othering’ languages that learners potentially have connection with” (Babel 2019: 62). The field of Second Language Acquisition emerged in the 1950s as a European-based tradition of inquiry with an emphasis on school- or classroom-based foreign language instruction for monolinguals (Thomas 2013); as a result, acting on the associated pedagogical assumptions can reproduce dominant Western power structures that underlie Indigenous language shift (Errington 2008; Meek and Messing 2007; Volfová 2015). Effective Indigenous language reclamation strategies center communities’ histories, needs, values, and intellectual tools. For example, in many North American Indigenous communities, there is a legacy of people speaking or signing more than one language or dialect (Davis 2010; Philips 2011), and in many cases also a tradition of valorizing variation among the users of a given language (Abtahian and Quinn 2017: 146; Ahlers 2014; Kroskrity 2009: 193). Describing language learning as second language acquisition privileges an assumption of monolingualism that has only been recently introduced (cf. Wildsmith-Cromarty and Balfour 2019). We should not assume that using more than one language is inherently difficult, that speakers should focus only on learning one of their languages, or that a single dialect should be selected as a standard. Rather than framing language as an object to be acquired, additional language learning centers what Indigenous scholars Hermes, Bang, and Marin (2012) call a “relational epistemology” that starts “with the language itself and then extend[s] to all of those who are involved” (391). A relational epistemology encompasses the word additional in “additional language learning” because it embraces all language generated within language reclamation work. This includes not only variations in language use among first language speakers, but also “younger voices, new uses, and ways of learning” as a living part of a language (Hermes, Bang, and Marin 2012: 391). Additional language learning also emphasizes the verb learning as an ongoing process that exists in contrast to the noun acquisition, which suggests an end goal. In focusing on process, we concur with Larsen-Freeman’s (2018) assertion that a person-centered frame of reference is needed to understand language learning, as languages are not only learned but lived (Ros i Solé 2016). Our discussion of additional language learning further complements the conceptualization of terms like “new speaker” (Hammine 2020; O’Rourke 2018) or “emergent multilingual.” These terms, as O’Rourke (2018) points out, challenge deficit perspectives surrounding commonly employed labels

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like “second-language learner” or “L2,” which can imply a status of less authentic than “first-language speakers” or “L1s.” Practitioners of Indigenous language pedagogies shift away from top-down models in which ideals reflecting language ideologies of nativeness, language purity, and authenticity are imposed. Some create culturally-grounded terms in Indigenous languages to describe language users (e.  g., Hinson 2019). Though it is widely recognized that educational systems, despite constraints, can contribute to community-based language efforts (Hinton 2001: 7; Hornberger and De Korne 2018: 98; Ignace 2016: 8; McCarty and Lee 2015), tensions may arise when communities, in partnership with primary, secondary, or post-secondary institutions, offer courses that teach the Indigenous language as a classroom subject. As “remnants from the … beginnings of Indigenous language classroom instruction, relying heavily on the curricula for teaching primary English and French and other Western European languages” (Rosborough, Rorick, and Urbanczyk 2017: 428; see also Meek and Messing 2007; Mellow 2000), methods emerging from Second Language Acquisition often treat language as one of many subjects to be consumed (Ignace 2016). Many emphasize reading and writing at the expense of oral proficiency and cultural competency. More generally, while there may be a focus on “culture” within schools that offer Indigenous language courses, there is a tendency for it to be a discrete subject rather than a way of being and doing that is integrated throughout the curriculum (Hermes 2007: 57; Hermes and Dyke 2019: 383). Power dynamics within the classroom may perpetuate a colonial structure by centering authoritative expertise in a credentialed instructor, who transmits legitimated knowledge to the learners. In turn, learners’ progress is evaluated through Western forms of assessment using milestones associated with expected and established norms of Second Language Acquisition. Studying a heritage language through this model can be problematic: academic evaluation includes the possibility of “failure”; institutional educational contexts may evoke painful intergenerational histories related to boarding schools or residential schools; and imposing a “student” identity often fails to capture the range of roles, relationships, and knowledges that learners actually have or seek to develop. Centered in widely-shared community-driven goals of increasing proficiency and supporting wider language use and community wellbeing, language reclamation also recognizes that additional language learning is ultimately a local phenomenon. Contexts of learning vary across multiple dimensions, and a range of teaching situations can coexist to serve the diverse needs of learners. Reclamation embraces culturally sustaining/revitalizing pedagogies (McCarty and Lee 2014), which recognize “the need to reclaim and revitalize what has been disrupted and displaced by colonization” and, as an expression of sovereignty, emphasize accountability to community (McCarty and Lee 2014: 103). As discussed by Indigenous scholars reporting on their own community contexts, the reclamation model also underscores that the implementation of pedagogies is complex and must be informed by a deep knowledge of the community, its context, and how learners relate to their languages (e.  g., Archibald 2008; Chew 2016; Cranmer 2015; Hinson 2019; Holmes 2018; Leonard 2007; McIvor 2012; Michel 2012; Rosborough 2012;

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 Kari A. B. Chew, Wesley Y. Leonard, and Daisy Rosenblum

Rodriguez 2020; Stacey 2016; Twitchell 2018). In recognition that many language learners are also language teachers (Hinton 2003; McIvor 2020: 82) or otherwise engaged in language reclamation, we place special focus on the fact that adult learners in language reclamation situations usually have multiple roles, all of which must be considered when planning and implementing language work. In the next sections, we address these issues.

34.3 Pedagogical strategies for Indigenous language reclamation Indigenous language scholar-practitioners have drawn on Second Language Acquisition research to support their understanding of the processes of learning and teaching (e.  g., Billy 2015; Ignace 2016; McIvor 2020; Rosborough, Rorick, and Urbanczyk 2017; Sarkar and Metallic 2009; Volfová 2015). In particular, Second Language Acquisition strategies influenced by a “Natural Approach” emphasize oral communication over grammatically correct production, posit that comprehension precedes production and that production emerges naturally, and attend to the impact of the “affective filter” on learning by creating low-anxiety situations and focusing on making the message interesting so students are motivated to understand content (Krashen and Terrell 1983: 58–61). At the same time, efforts to learn based solely in these models may be difficult to sustain when not attentive to the social, historical, emotional, and political realities that are crucial to language reclamation. For this reason, we regard dominant approaches to language pedagogy with caution. An Indigenous framework does not preclude the incorporation of tools generated for and by dominant institutional structures, but requires that conversations about learning and teaching Indigenous languages be positioned within a decolonizing framework. This approach disrupts the unmarked status of dominant tools and their assumptions, and facilitates the selection of methods that are grounded in culturally-specific knowledges and needs. Within spaces that strive to privilege Indigenous languages, learners and teachers weave together a variety of pedagogical approaches, actively developing methods appropriate for the learners with whom they are working, the particulars of their language and its structure and use, and the cultural stewardship in which they are engaged. Although some of these pedagogical strategies arise from and are informed by the field of Second Language Acquisition, Indigenous communities across North America have long innovated strategies to meet their language needs and aspirations. Many such approaches are guided by a motivation to (re-)create opportunities for “natural” language use and learning, modeled after how children learn their first language, through ample attentive input, positive interaction, and low pressure. In the following paragraphs, we introduce several of these strategies, focusing on how they can privilege relationality and providing meaningful exposure to language. For clarity, we discuss each

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approach separately, but emphasize that they overlap and may function best in combination with each other. Scholars and practitioners involved in language work caution against a search for a “magic bullet,” or one particular method or approach that best supports language learning and teaching (McIvor 2015). As Indigenous language scholar-practitioner and learner of Nsyilxcn (Okanagan) Sʔímlaʔxʷ Michele Johnson said, “we need to use all the second-language learning tools” (2012: 84). Total Physical Response (TPR), a frequently referenced example, was originally introduced as a way to develop learners’ listening comprehension in Second Language Acquisition contexts (Asher 1969). Teachers use commands in the target language along with gestures and movements, and evaluation occurs in real time as learners respond. TPR foregrounds the use of whole sentences and builds lessons around verbs in context. It has been widely adopted in Indigenous language classrooms, where routines allow for repetition as well as introduction of new vocabulary (e.  g., Cantoni 1999; De Korne 2010; Hermes 2007; Littlebear 2003). As an inherently embodied pedagogy, TPR effectively responds to the disembodiment reified in many dominant modes of language instruction, though we caution that reliance on physical movement can perpetuate ableism by not anticipating the needs of learners and teachers with varying abilities or “prioritiz[ing] accommodation, access, and inclusion” (Watzke 2020: 234). With TPR, as with all pedagogical strategies, scholar-practitioners must continuously evaluate whether these strategies are effectively supporting community-centered processes of decolonization. Another common language teaching method, Teaching Proficiency through Reading and Storytelling (TPRS), builds on the concepts of TPR while also drawing on tenets of the Natural Approach. Going beyond TPR’s focus on comprehension, TPRS requires students to work together to create and act out stories, thus developing their ability to recognize grammatical patterns and construct new sentences. Within TPRS there are a number of named strategies such as “Parking” (staying with one sentence to allow many repetitions of target vocabulary), “Staying in bounds” (using only words that students know), and “Personalized questions and answers” (incorporating target grammatical structures into questions designed with specific learners in mind) (Ray and Seely 2004). The emphasis within TPRS on relationality, story, multisensory embodied learning, and local adaptability has proven useful for Indigenous language educators in a range of contexts. For example, educators at T’selcéwtqen Clleq’mel’ten (Chief Atahm School), a parent-operated language immersion school on the Adams Lake Indian Reserve near Chase, British Columbia, ground their teaching in the Secwepemc oral tradition of stsptekwle, “a genre of legends featuring a magical cast of animals that incorporate the teaching of history, geography, values, and culture” (Billy 2015: 1). Teachers are trained in the art of Secwepemc storytelling and must become proficient enough to tell the stories in Secwepemctsín. This approach, described by scholar-practitioners who co-founded the School (Billy 2015; Michel 2012), integrates selected aspects of TPR and TPRS with Sto:lo scholar Jo-ann Archibald’s storywork as an Indigenous pedagogy (2008). Billy said,

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“I sought to focus on our own storytelling tradition, called stsptekwle, in order to articulate the key components of our stories from which we could begin developing our own storytelling teaching model” (2015: 5). The language teaching model used at T’selcéwtqen Clleq’mel’ten draws from longstanding culturally-specific pedagogical practices. Other approaches generate new practices that align with contemporary language ecologies, particularly in situations where there are very few users of the language. One of the most widely known such approaches is the Master- or Mentor-Apprentice Language Learning Program (MAP). Formalized as a program by the Advocates for Indigenous California Language Survival in 1992, MAP responded to the needs of Indigenous communities in California, many with fewer than ten first-language speakers and few active domains where language use was present and normalized. In this context, one-on-one intensive approaches were needed to create new adult speakers who could carry languages forward. Typically, MAP pairs individual or small groups of learners with fluent speakers, often working within a home through everyday activities, sometimes incorporating TPR and TPRS strategies. MAP teams receive training to support staying in language while doing other activities. Together, these pairs or small groups self-direct language learning around key principles including a commitment to use only the Indigenous language, to speak in full sentences, and to practice meaningful and useful communication (Hinton 2001: 222; Hinton et al. 2018). Because MAP encourages learning through traditional activities, it can restore intergenerational transmission of not only language but also cultural knowledge. Apprentices use their knowledge in many ways, including as teachers in other settings. Another method that supports learners to act simultaneously as teachers is Where Are Your Keys? (WAYK). WAYK frames language learning as a type of game, with learners as players. The approach is grounded in the belief that skills for effective language learning and teaching “can be broken down into discrete elements,” identified as Techniques (Gardner and Ciotti 2018: 139). WAYK incorporates a process of noticing and naming Techniques among groups of practitioners. About such strategies, Gardner and Ciotti write “you can teach them to other people, that they come from a variety of sources, that you can make new ones as needed, and that everyone can collectively save a massive amount of time by seeking out and sharing the solutions to common language learning problems” (2018: 139). WAYK practitioners create a nickname and a sign, often adapted from American Sign Language, for each new Technique. Dozens of these strategies have been created and passed along during WAYK trainings held across North America. Techniques address one or more of five key objectives: speed, immersion, comfort, accessibility, and community.3 Some models developed by Indigenous scholar-practitioners have become templates for curricular materials used by Indigenous language programs in other com-

3 See https://whereareyourkeys.org/technique-glossary/.

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munities. One such curriculum, the Salish fluency transfer system, also known as the Paul Creek method, was first developed by LaRae Wiley, a Sn̓ʕay̓ckstx woman, and her husband Christopher Parkin, originally a high school Spanish teacher. It utilizes recordings and visual aids, among other supports, as part of a multilevel curriculum providing approximately 1,000 hours of language instruction,4 initially implemented at the Salish School of Spokane, a parent-founded immersion school. In addition to several Interior Salish languages, this method has since been adapted for use in teaching Lingít by the Tlingit Language Revitalization Association (Johnson 2016),5 and for nuučaan̓uł by the Hesquiaht Language Program.6 An important feature of the curriculum is that it is designed to be delivered by beginning and intermediate learners (Johnson 2012). The strategies described above strive to create conditions that allow learners to stay in language for periods of time, whether a few minutes or a few hours (Hinton et al. 2018: 123–125). These approaches prioritize orality over literacy and whole language use rather than atomized lists of vocabulary and grammatical instruction, and also tend toward embodied activities and physical engagement such that language-learning emerges as an outcome. They are grouped together under a broad category of “immersion,” which is often considered the gold standard for language learning. Despite enthusiasm for immersion approaches, however, some Indigenous language learners and teachers feel overwhelmed at the thought of “doing immersion” as if it is an intuitive and automatic process. Although communicative and experiential learning methods are important, the goal of creating immersion contexts thus must be applied with consideration of ongoing colonization and the range of language ecologies in Indigenous communities. In almost all cases, learners and teachers will need to attend to the emotional and practical realities of working together and build immersion domains incrementally in order to gradually extend the time they spend in language. This consideration is especially crucial for communities whose languages must first be learned from documentation, where immersion is not possible in the initial stages of reclamation. Even for communities with fluent speakers willing to teach, there are factors which may impede success with an immersion approach: speakers may not be accustomed to using their languages; learners may not have other people to talk to; both may feel pressure to recreate a “natural” process of first-language transmission that they likely did not experience themselves. In describing a school-based, verb-centered way of teaching Diné bizaad (Navajo) through immersion contexts, Holm, Silentman, and Wallace acknowledge that they cannot recreate the environment in which fluent speakers acquired Diné bizaad as their first language, but can create situations that promote the use of Diné bizaad (2003: 27). Like TPR, TPRS, MAP, and WAYK, the Situational Navajo approach integrates multiple strategies: gesture, ‘Meta-Navajo’ phrases used to direct

4 See http://www.interiorsalish.com/home.html. 5 See tlingitlanguage.com › L1-Textbook-45-LESSONS. 6 See http://www.hesquiahtlanguage.org/free-downloads.html.

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or invite students to speak in language, ‘survival’ language that allows students to express basic needs and wants; and providing exposure to ‘background Navajo’ that is not explicitly part of a lesson and may not be understood by learners (Holm, Silentman, and Wallace 2003: 30–31). Many teachers in immersion programs develop pedagogies which strive to “come to terms with, among other things, the structure of the language they are trying to teach” (Holm, Silentman, and Wallace 2003: 25) while attending to the needs of their community of learners. Part of this entails negotiating the ways learners think about and experience grammar, which as a named concept is often tied to learners’ linguistic insecurities (Abtahian and Quinn 2017) and negative schooling experiences. Some strategies systematically introduce contextualized grammatical patterns without explicit explanation, so students can learn them unconsciously. The Root-Word Method, used since 1998 in the Onkwawén:na Kentyókhwa Adult Mohawk Language Immersion Program, presents the polysynthetic structure of Kanien’kéha (Mohawk) through a wide range of words and phrases, with the goal that learners will gradually recognize morphological patterns and begin to produce new language. Accelerated Second Language Acquisition (ASLA), developed by Neyooxet Greymorning to teach Hinono’eitiit (Arapaho language), employs associations between language with images to allow students to learn how to understand and speak without direct instruction in grammar (Greymorning 1997, 2019). Alternatively, the Situational Navajo classrooms described above provide both conscious (‘instructional’) and unconscious (‘practice’) exposure to patterns of ‘high-utility’ verbs in relevant contexts and routines, in mode-aspects that “can apply to a number of different situations” (Holm, Silentman, and Wallace 2003: 33). For many communities, the word grammar evokes a legacy of academic research that reduces language to decontextualized structural patterns, hence contributing to speakers’ and learners’ alienation from their languages (Leonard 2017, 2018). At the same time, research and practice indicates that direct grammatical instruction can be helpful for learners (Hermes 2007: 67; Nassaji and Fotos 2011), and culturally-centered linguistic analysis can also be beneficial. For example, a morphosyntax class made up of Cree students from multiple Nations at First Nations University nuhelot’įne thaiyots’į nistameyimâkanak Blue Quills in St. Paul, Alberta, adapted the Root-Word Method as an analytical and learning strategy and challenged colonial approaches to grammar by examining Nêhiyawêwin (Plains Cree) morphology through Cree epistemologies such as wahkohtowin ‘relatedness.’ Several students observed that this exercise facilitated deeper understanding of the worldviews embedded into words (Holden 2020: 26–31). Similarly, for the late Kwakwa̱ ka̱ ’wakw scholar and language advocate T’łat’łaḵuł Patricia Rosborough (2012), teaching and learning about Kwak’wala linguistic features facilitated accessing “the beauty of” Kwak’wala and “discovering, sharing, and celebrating beautiful words that demonstrate embedded Kwakwa̱ ka̱ ’wakw values and worldviews” in order to make “learning a joyful experience that fosters both the development of the language revitalization community and the community’s well-being” (151–152). Thus, “a combined attention to grammar and communication may be effective for both language

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acquisition and for the transmission of history, language, and cultural values across generations” (Rosborough, Rorick, and Urbanczyk 2017: 430). Taking questions of scope and sequence into account further helps learners and teachers to structure pedagogical processes as well as develop appropriate ways of assessing and evaluating progress. Several communities have adapted or used the American Council on the Teaching of Foreign Languages (ACTFL) framework for this purpose. However, ACTFL guidelines (ACTFL 2012) are not an ideal default for Indigenous language reclamation in several ways. For example, they are framed in terms of a uniform top-down goal of achieving “native-speaker-like fluency” in a “foreign” language, and progress is measured through overcoming described deficits in ability. For many learners from Indigenous communities, institutional education, and especially processes of assessment and evaluation, are laden with negative associations, “especially to those who identify and have ancestral ties to the language and do not want to be seen as inauthentic participants of their culture” (Galla 2018: 107). Learner anxiety about being tested, judged, and graded on an ability to repeat memorized content can both drain existing motivation and prevent further engagement. Learners are better able to acquire language when they feel confident and the process is enjoyable and positive (Krashen and Terrell 1983: 59); learners and teachers are better able to maintain their motivation and enthusiasm when they can attend to the emotional complexity of their work. The right type of assessment can provide an opportunity for learners and others to perceive, appreciate, and celebrate their progress and achievement. Scholars focused on learning and teaching Indigenous languages have responded with tools that are framed in terms of positive accomplishment. The NEȾOLṈEW̱ language learning assessment tool created to support adult learners of Indigenous languages focuses primarily on speaking and understanding, and includes space for learners to reflect on their progress, frame ability in terms of statements about what they can do in the language— rather than what they cannot do—and also to document the relationships that are key to their learning (McIvor and Jacobs 2016). Appropriate methods of assessment will vary with community contexts: they may include spending time with speakers over a meal, creating a language lesson, or compiling a multimedia portfolio related to a learner’s specific goals. In contrast with measuring individual learning in terms of reaching generic milestones, these methods prioritize community goals of supporting shared progress toward reclaiming language use. For example, learner progress within MAP teams is assessed at key stages by a group of speakers or other individuals able to evaluate team progress and provide helpful feedback. Such assessment strategies can encourage individual learners to see their strengths and work toward improvement while also being inclusive, creating space for each learner to be where they are in the process without measuring themselves against external metrics. Increasing proficiency is often a key goal in Indigenous language learning and teaching, but learners often have other aspirations such as healing from trauma, countering narratives of loss, and strengthening relationships. Acknowledging, assessing, and supporting these goals is part of a decolonial approach.

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34.4 Creating and sustaining spaces and ­opportunities for language continuance Decolonial approaches to learning and teaching Indigenous languages ensure the continuity of language across relationships, places, and times while confronting the hegemonic forces that contribute to language shift. This linguistic and cultural continuance is, as Simon Ortiz (1992) writes, “something more than memory or remembering … [it] is life itself” (9–10). For this reason, language reclamation revolves around not only building and strengthening relationships among people, but also creating places and opportunities for these languages to be used. In creating these spaces, language work requires innovative, flexible, and responsive approaches which ensure the sustainability of a learning environment. Sustainable approaches to Indigenous language education must nurture the relationship between languages and these places, to support “people ‘doing language’ together in meaningful ways” (Fettes 1997: 303–304). Sustainability also entails attention to financial and other practical aspects of language work. In this section we explore these themes. MAP approaches, for example, have been adapted for use in communities across the U.S., Canada, and elsewhere (Henke 2017; Hinton et al. 2018; Olawsky 2013). Some of these adaptations have sought to address challenges that may arise and prevent the original MAP model from being sustainable within a particular community. The Sauk Language Department of the Sac and Fox Nation in Oklahoma found that with a one-on-one model, their MAP teams, and the Elders in particular, struggled to fit hours of language work on top of other responsibilities and found it difficult to avoid using English. As a result the community implemented a team-based model in which a rotating group of master language speakers works with a core group of apprentices (Hinton et al. 2018: 131–133). The Chickasaw Nation in Oklahoma encountered similar challenges with their MAP efforts, and in 2015 also created a team-based adult immersion program (Hinson 2019). Because new learners were struggling with the role of being in charge of their own learning, as the original MAP model requires, both the Sauk and Chickasaw programs started to include a position for an experienced language learner to act as a team leader and be responsible for maintaining the immersion environment. This adaptation was particularly beneficial because, within one-on-one teams, very often team members already know each other and have an established convention of using English. These relationships may also make it difficult for apprentices to feel comfortable guiding or “correcting” a speaker (often an elder relative) to bring them back into the language or make similar requests. A team-based approach can provide more structure and support so that learners do not have to navigate these challenges in isolation. The Chickasaw Nation also creates a professional pathway for language learners by funding two-year salaried positions through Chikasha Academy, allowing graduates of the program to move into occupations involving language within the Nation (Hinson 2019). Not only does this contribute to the continuity of graduates’ engagement with language, it also

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normalizes and extends domains of language use. Similarly, within the original MAP model, apprentices and master-/mentor-speakers are paid an hourly rate to facilitate spending time together in language. Other adult language learning programs, though not arising from MAP, also focus on creating spaces for language. Mohawks of Kahnawà:ke in Québec have worked since 1985 to create and train new adult speakers of Kanien’kéha to support language nests, immersion schools, and other language efforts (Stacey 2016). Iehnhotonkwas (Bonnie Jane Maracle) addresses the need for mixed approaches to working with adult learners, defining immersion in the context of Kanien’kéha adult language programming as “a method of language instruction, which in this instance is Mohawk, whereby the learner is instructed directly in the language as well as being taught (in English) about the Mohawk language” (2002: 389). Adult learners of Nsyilxcn lived in a Syilx language immersion house in Penticton, British Columbia for several months in 2011 (Johnson 2014). Following that, a Sylix Language Association was formed in 2015 to create new speakers and document the speech of fluent Elder speakers; since then, a cohort of committed Nsyilxcn learners have spent two days each week at a space where they work with a team of teacher-learners and with fluent Elders to follow a structured immersion-oriented curriculum (Johnson 2017). The emergence of new adult speakers in many communities is integrated with a need for skilled teachers working in spaces focused on raising children in or with their language. Adult language learners often are the teachers and administrators in Indigenous language medium educational institutions, including language nests and schools. Language nests, such as the Pūnana Leo in Hawai‘i (Wilson and Kamanā 2001), are intended to create a new generation of first language or bilingual speakers of an Indigenous language (Okura 2017: 2; see McIvor and Parker 2016 for an overview of early childhood programs). They are prototypically early childhood care centers or preschools that are immersive in an Indigenous language, privilege cultural learning, and recreate a home-like atmosphere. Immersion schools, like the T’selcéwtqen Clleq’mel’ten example discussed above or the Mohawk Akwesasne Freedom School on the St. Regis Mohawk Reservation in New York (White 2015), refer to K–12 institutions that provide instruction in all subjects through an Indigenous language medium. Intergenerational relationality is a keystone of many successful community-based efforts, within and beyond educational institutions. As such, many of these programs emphasize parental involvement, some even requiring parents to participate in language classes themselves (e.  g., Wilson and Kamanā 2001: 152). In Hawaiian immersion programs, inclusive of language nests and K–12 schools, parental support is critical to the success of language education. As noted by Hilo Pūnana Leo founding member Kauanoe Kamanā, “Parents are what made [these programs] grow from the beginning, from the Pūnana Leo, so within the good and the bad, the blessings and the difficulties, the parents are there” (quoted in Calica and Rawlins 1999). Along with relationships among generations, decolonial language pedagogies also honor the importance of relationships between languages, places, and people. Lan-

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guage activists often stress the reciprocal relationship between land and language. Melissa Nelson (Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa Indians) emphasizes how the sounds of Indigenous landscapes, inclusive of animal sounds, wind, water, etc., “feed the languages; likewise, the words, songs, stories, and prayers of native peoples feed the spiritual essence of the land” (2002: 3). Knowledge for the Secwepemc people “is connected to individual and collective experiences on the land and to the ways that the [Secwepemctsín] language embeds, expresses, and organizes social and cultural experience” (Ignace and Ignace 2017: 121). Land-based pedagogies not only reflect established Indigenous ways of learning and knowing, but also counter the radical disruptions to places experienced by Indigenous communities. At Waadookodaading Ojibwe Language Institute, a Pre-K through 5th grade immersion school on the Lac Courte Oreilles reservation in Wisconsin, students go into the forest to participate in the cultural practice of harvesting maple syrup from trees. Intergenerational relationships as well as relationships to the landscape are nurtured as students engage “alongside teachers and elders, working the taps, tending the fire, and tasting the sap” (Hermes and Dyke 2019: 394) and learn science, culture, history, tradition, and language simultaneously. In this way, land-based pedagogies “offer a way of fostering individual and collective empowerment for students by re-embedding them in the land-connected social relationships that settler-colonialism, through education and otherwise, sought to destroy” (Wildcat et al. 2014: III). While communities often strive to provide opportunities for language learning within their original homelands, where the language was first spoken, this is frequently not possible. As a result of forced removals and other displacements both community-wide and individual, many have found themselves learning in other territories (e.  g., Baloy 2011; Davis 2018). Learners in diaspora may be able to gather together and learn with speakers living nearby, whether through MAP, informal language classes, or classes held at universities or other academic institutions. These classes depend on the presence of a facilitator who can coordinate space, time, materials, and participation of interested learners. Learners may also periodically travel in order to connect with members of their Indigenous community. This commonly occurs through language/culture camps, which bring people together for a short time. This is true for Miami people, who are dispersed due to two removals by the United States as well as voluntary relocations by many Miami families. Miami youth camps take place both in the original Indiana homelands as well as in removal territory in Oklahoma; both emphasize relationships with myaamionki ‘Miami lands’ (Leonard and Shoemaker 2012). For example, the theme of one of the Oklahoma camps was identifying and strengthening multidimensional relationships between earth, sky, and Miami people. This camp took place on lands allotted to Miami people post-removal rather than in original Miami territory. Because the same constellations appear across both places, however, the inclusion of sky provided continuity in that specific language and cultural relationships already existed. When learners are not able to work together in the same place, they may rely on technology to access language (Galla 2016). They may use apps (Begay 2013), post on

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social media, join live video-conferenced language classes, or study asynchronous online courses (Alexander 2018; Bontogon et al. 2018; Chew, Hinson, and Morgan 2022). Since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, remote language learning and related pedagogical frameworks have increased (Chew et al. 2022). It is a reality that learners and teachers of Indigenous languages are always (re-)constituting domains for their language in the place where they find themselves living. In spaces and times when learners do not have access to fluent speakers who can be their mentors, they may choose to reclaim areas of their home, creating physical locations where their Indigenous language is used exclusively. Activities like washing the dishes or putting away groceries can be considered “domains” that are reclaimed for the target language (Zahir 2018). Significantly, learners can use this method on their own through self-narration of activities.7 As Indigenous language movements have gained momentum, an international network of language scholar-practitioners have also come to engage in wider communities of practice that facilitate the exchange of strategies, methods, and modes of adaptation for local language contexts. For example, WAYK trainings have been held in several locations in Canada and the US focused on Sḵwx̱wu7mesh, Unangam Tunuu, Nee’aanèegn’ (Upper Tanana), and Maidu, among other languages. At an annual summer institute held at T’selcéwtqen Clleq’mel’ten, Indigenous language educators from across Canada and beyond gather to share pedagogies and receive training in workshops on TPR, TPRS, and other methods within a framework attuned to Indigenous language teaching and learning (Billy 2015). Several universities host institutes to provide comprehensive training in Indigenous language education and linguistics. At the American Indian Language Development Institute (AILDI) at the University of Arizona, participants’ culminating experience is designing and teaching a short immersion lesson that embeds language in its appropriate cultural context. Other institutes include the Northwest Indian Language Institute (NILI) at the University of Oregon and the Canadian Indigenous Languages and Literacy Development Institute (CILLDI) at the University of Alberta.8 Conferences focused on language reclamation include the annual Stabilizing Indigenous Languages Symposium (SILS) held in various locations in North America, the Indigenous Language Institute Symposium (ILIS) in New Mexico, and the biennial Language is Life conference in California. Coming together allows learners and teachers to support each other through exchanging ideas, sharing perspectives, and renewing enthusiasm—which participants bring back to their work with language.

7 Examples of this method as used for Twulshootseed (Lushootseed) language learning can be seen at http://www.puyalluptriballanguage.org/. 8 AILDI: https://aildi.arizona.edu/; NILI: https://nili.uoregon.edu/; CILLDI: https://www.ualberta.ca/ canadian-indigenous-languages-and-literacy-development-institute/

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34.5 Conclusions Decolonization requires the dismantling of colonizing forces and structures that continue to work against Indigenous languages and the peoples they belong to. Therefore, the process of decolonizing Indigenous language pedagogies, and by extension appropriately theorizing and describing them, involves a return to and recentering of ancestral knowledge and wisdom, “which respects and exists in relationship with the non-human and more-than-human” (Chew et al. 2019: 148). We must identify, draw from, respond to, and celebrate these broad sets of relationships that colonization has fragmented. Because language reclamation efforts are not static, continued dialogue is crucial among practitioners and researchers focused on language pedagogies. Researchers, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous, can contribute through advancing knowledge and understanding of how pedagogies apply in different contexts, participating in the development and sharing of new strategies for language learning, and supporting and amplifying methods which connect with community goals. Continued dialogue and further research can complement the work of Indigenous communities in imagining what is possible for their languages. Additional language learning is grounded in the restoration and recognition of connection among generations, land, beings, language, culture, mind, body, and spirit, thus calling for an embodied approach to language pedagogies which embraces emotional, physical, and spiritual aspects of learning and teaching. Instead of focusing on individual effort, achievement, and rewards, additional language learning centers learning and teaching within communities and emphasizes that individual learners are always part of networks, even if their study of language occurs in isolation. For this reason, additional language learning privileges culturally appropriate assessment that speaks both to learner and community goals.9 The strategies described in this chapter include many ways of breaking language learning into smaller manageable pieces that allow learning and teaching to be a joy rather than a burden.10 They can and should be adapted and combined to suit the needs of the community, the language, and the learners involved. When implemented in a decolonial framework, they attend to the emotional experiences and relationships among learners and teachers, establishing safe, fun, positive, and supportive spaces where learners feel comfortable acquiring new languages. Crucially, to be sustainable, language learning and teaching must nurture wellbeing and joy through pedagogies that are embodied, relational, and connected to what matters to people. While we call for more research of methods that contribute to language reclamation by nurturing wellbeing, motivation, and relationships, we emphasize the need to move 9 See Haynes et al.’s (2010) discussion of Culturally Responsive Assessment for Indigenous language communities. 10 We recommend the First Nations Curriculum Building Guide (Ignace 2016), which provides an overview of useful pedagogical strategies that have been applied for the reclamation of Indigenous languages in British Columbia.

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beyond talk and research by enacting decolonial pedagogies toward a shared vision of language continuance. Language is a way to communicate with one’s relatives, inclusive of those that are not human, and ancestors. Learning and teaching Indigenous languages repairs the ruptures that have occurred in Indigenous communities, and are thus acts of both resistance and empowerment.

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Kroskrity, Paul V. 2009. Embodying the reversal of language shift: Agency, incorporation, and language ideological change in the Western Mono community of central California. In Paul V. Kroskrity & Margaret C. Field (eds.), Native American language ideologies, 190–210. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Larsen-Freeman, Diane. 2018. Looking ahead: Future directions in, and future research into, second language acquisition. Foreign Language Annals 51. 55–72. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2007. Miami language reclamation in the home: A case study. Berkeley: University of California, Berkeley PhD dissertation. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2011. Challenging “extinction” through modern Miami language practices. American Indian Culture and Research Journal 35(2). 135–160. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2012. Framing language reclamation programmes for everybody’s empowerment. Gender and Language 6(2). 339–367. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2017. Producing language reclamation by decolonising ‘language’. Language Documentation and Description 14. 15–36. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2018. Reflections on (de)colonialism in language documentation. In Bradley McDonnell, Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker & Gary Holton (eds.), Reflections on language documentation 20 years after Himmelmann 1998, 55–65. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Leonard, Wesley Y. & Scott M. Shoemaker. 2012. “I heart this camp”: Participant perspectives on the role of Miami youth camps. In Karl S. Hele & J. Randolph Valentine (eds.), Papers of the 40th Annual Algonquian Conference, 186–209. Albany: SUNY Press. Littlebear, Richard E. 2003. Chief Dull Knife Community is strengthening the Northern Cheyenne language and culture. Journal of American Indian Education 42(1). 75–84. Magnat, Virginie. 2014. Honouring the 3 r’s of Indigenous research methodologies. Theatre Research in Canada 35(2). 244–247. Maracle (Iehnhotonkwas), Bonnie Jane. 2002. Adult Mohawk language immersion programming. McGill Journal of Education 37(3). 387–404. McCarty, Teresa L. & Tiffany S. Lee. 2014. Critical culturally sustaining/revitalizing pedagogy and Indigenous education sovereignty. Harvard Educational Review 84(1). 101–124. McCarty, Teresa L. & Tiffany S. Lee. 2015. The role of schools in Native American language and culture revitalization: A vision of linguistic and educational sovereignty. In W. James Jacob, Sheng Yao Cheng & Maureen K. Porter (eds.), Indigenous education: Language, culture and identity, 341–360. Dordrecht: Springer. McCarty, Teresa L. & Sheilah E. Nicholas. 2012. Indigenous education: Local and global perspectives. In Marilyn Martin-Jones, Adrian Blackledge & Angela Creese (eds.), The Routledge handbook of multilingualism, 145–166. London: Routledge. McIvor, Onowa. 2012. îkakwiy nîhiyawiyân: I am learning [to be] Cree. Vancouver: University of British Columbia PhD dissertation. McIvor, Onowa. 2015. Adult Indigenous language learning in Western Canada: What is holding us back? In Kathryn A. Michel, Patrick D. Walton, Emma Bourassa & Jack Miller (eds.), Living our languages: Papers from the 19th Stabilizing Indigenous Languages Symposium, 37–49. New York: Linus Learning. McIvor, Onowa. 2020. Indigenous language revitalization and Applied Linguistics: Parallel histories, shared futures? Annual Review of Applied Linguistics 40. 78–96. McIvor, Onowa, Art Napoleon & Kerissa M. Dickie. 2009. Language and culture as protective factors for at-risk communities. Journal of Aboriginal Health 5(1). 6–25. McIvor, Onowa & Kari A. B. Chew (eds.). 2021. Indigenous language revitalization: Innovation, reflection and future directions [Special issue]. WINHEC: International Journal of Indigenous Education Scholarship 16(1). McIvor, Onowa & Peter Jacobs. 2016. NEȾOLṈEW̱ Language Learning Assessment Tool (v3.1, Feb 2016). Available at http://netolnew.ca/assessment/.

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McIvor, Onowa & Aliana Parker. 2016. Back to the future: Recreating natural Indigenous language learning environments through language nest early childhood immersion programs. The International Journal of Holistic Early Learning and Development 3. 21–35. Meek, Barbra A. & Jacqueline Messing. 2007. Framing Indigenous languages as secondary to matrix languages. Anthropology & Education Quarterly 38(2). 99–118. Mellow, J. Dean. 2000. An examination of Western influences on Indigenous language teaching. In Jon Reyhner, Joseph Martin, Louise Lockard & Willard Sakiestewa Gilbert (eds.), Learn in beauty: Indigenous education for a new century, 102–113. Flagstaff, AZ: Northern Arizona University. Michel, Kathryn A. 2012. Trickster’s path to language transformation: Stories of Secwepemc immersion from Chief Atahm School. Vancouver: University of British Columbia EdD dissertation. Nassaji, Hossein & Sandra Fotos. 2011. Teaching grammar in second language classrooms: Integrating form-focused instruction in communicative context. New York: Routledge. Nelson, Melissa. 2002. Introduction: Indigenous language revitalization. ReVision 25(2). 3–4. Okura, Eve K. 2017. Language nests and language acquisition: An empirical analysis. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa PhD dissertation. Olawsky, Knut J. 2013. The Master-Apprentice Language Learning Program down under: Experience and adaptation in an Australian context. Language Documentation & Conservation 7. 41–63. O’Rourke, Bernadette. 2018. New speakers of minority languages. In Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, 265–273. New York: Routledge. Ortiz, Simon J. 1992. Woven stone. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Oster, Richard T., Angela Grier, Rick Lightning, Maria J. Mayan & Ellen L. Toth. 2014. Cultural continuity, traditional Indigenous language, and diabetes in Alberta First Nations: A mixed methods study. International Journal for Equity in Health 13(1). 92. Philips, Lisa. 2011. Unexpected languages: Multilingualism and contact in eighteenth- and nineteenthcentury North America. American Indian Culture and Research Journal 35(2). 19–41. Rātima, Matiu Tai & Te Rita Papesch. 2014. Te Rita Papesch: case study of an exemplary learner of Māori as an additional language. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism 17(4). 379–393. Ray, Blaine & Contee Seely. 2004. Fluency through TPR Storytelling: Achieving real language acquisition in school, 4th edn. Berkeley: Command Performance Language Institute, Blaine Ray Workshops. Rodriguez, Stanley. 2020. Kumeyaay language loss and revitalization. San Diego: University of California, San Diego & California State University San Marcos EdD dissertation. Ros i Solé, Christina. 2016. The personal world of the language learner. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Rosborough, Patricia Christine. 2012. Ḵa̓ ̱ ngex̱tola sewn-on-top: Kwak’wala revitalization and being Indigenous. Vancouver: University of British Columbia PhD dissertation. Rosborough, T’łat’łaḵuł Patricia & čuucqa Layla Rorick. 2017. Following in the footsteps of the wolf: Connecting scholarly minds to ancestors in Indigenous language revitalization. AlterNative 13(1). 11–17. Rosborough, Trish, chuutsqa Layla Rorick & Suzanne Urbanczyk. 2017. Beautiful words: Enriching and Indigenizing Kwak’wala revitalization through understandings of linguistic structure. The Canadian Modern Language Review 73(4). 425–437. Sarkar, Mela & Mali A’n Metallic. 2009. Indigenizing the structural syllabus: The challenge of revitalizing Mi’gmaq in Listuguj. The Canadian Modern Language Review 66(1). 49–71. Stacey, Kahtehrón:ni Iris. 2016. Ientsitewate’nikonhraié:ra’te tsi nonkwá:ti ne á:se tahatikonhsontóntie [We will turn our minds there once again, to the faces yet to come]: Second language speakers and language revitalization in Kahnawà:ke. Victoria: University of Victoria MA thesis. Taff, Alice, Melvatha Chee, Jaeci Hall, Millie Yéi Dulitseen Hall, Kawenniyóhstha Nicole Martin & Annie Johnston. 2018. Indigenous language use impacts wellness. In Kenneth L. Rehg & Lyle Campbell (eds.), The Oxford handbook of endangered languages, 862–883. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Thomas, Margaret. 2013. History of the study of second language acquisition. In Julia Herschensohn & Martha Young-Scholten (eds.), The Cambridge handbook of second language acquisition, 26–45. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Twitchell, X̲ʼunei Lance. 2018. Haa Dachx̱ánxʼi Sáani Kagéiyi Yís: Haa Yoo X̱ʼatángi Kei Naltseen. For our little grandchildren: Language revitalization among the Tlingit. Hilo: University of Hawaiʻi at Hilo PhD dissertation. Volfová, Martina. 2015. “Indigenizing the teacher’s toolbox”: Language teaching practices in a Shoshone classroom. In Jon Reyhner, Joseph Martin, Louise Lockard & Willard Sakiestewa Gilbert (eds.), Honoring our elders: Culturally appropriate approaches for teaching Indigenous students, 95–107. Flagstaff, AZ: Northern Arizona University. Watzke, Petra. 2020. Disrupting the norm: Disability, access, and inclusion in the German language classroom. In Regine Criser & Ervin Malakaj (eds.), Diversity and decolonization in German studies, 233–249. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Whalen, D. H., Margaret Moss & Daryl Baldwin. 2016. Healing through language: Positive physical health effects of Indigenous language use. F1000Research 5: 852. White, Louellyn. 2015. Free to be Mohawk: Indigenous education at the Akwesasne Freedom School. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Wildcat, Matthew, Mandee McDonald, Stephanie Irlbacher-Fox & Glen Coulthard. 2014. Learning from the land: Indigenous land based pedagogy and decolonization. Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society 3(3). I–XV. Wildsmith-Cromarty, Rosemary & Robert J. Balfour. 2019. Language learning and teaching in South African primary schools. Language Teaching 52(3). 296–317. Wilson, William H. & Kauanoe Kamanā. 2001. “Mai loko mai o ka ‘i‘ni: Proceeding from a dream”: The ‘Aha Pūnana Leo connection in Hawaiian language revitalization. In Leanne Hinton & Ken Hale (eds.), The green book of language revitalization in practice, 147–176. San Diego: Academic Press. Zahir, Zalmai ʔəswəli. 2018. Language nesting in the home. In Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, 156–165. New York: Routledge.

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35 Digital tools for language revitalization Abstract: As digital media and online spaces are becoming increasingly important, so also have digital tools accessed via computers and mobile devices become a significant component of many language revitalization efforts. In this chapter, we discuss several types of digital tools commonly employed in language revitalization and highlight specific examples of how such tools have been utilized in and adapted to Indigenous North American contexts. In §  1, we consider general advantages and challenges in the development and use of digital tools for language revitalization. In § 2 we discuss relevant factors in the choice to use digital tools in specific contexts. We emphasize that such a decision is a deliberate activity and recognize that the appropriateness of using various technologies in a given community is determined by a myriad of linguistic, cultural, social, technological, environmental, and economic factors (Galla 2009). In § 3, we review examples of digital tools for language revitalization in four categories and discuss how each can be leveraged to meet common needs in language revitalization work. These categories are: learning apps (§ 3.1), dictionaries and reference materials (§ 3.2), geo-mapping and place names (§ 3.3), and interactive online spaces (§ 3.4), including interactive storytelling and video games/gaming. While we recognize that these tools are not a panacea for the multifaceted challenges of language revitalization, we conclude that, when employed thoughtfully, digital tools can bring flexibility and dynamism in support of language revitalization efforts.

35.1 Introduction Digital media and online spaces are becoming increasingly important for exchange of knowledge, social interaction, education, and entertainment. Naturally, the development and use of digital tools accessed through computers and mobile devices is also becoming a significant component of many language revitalization efforts. Because of the diversity and rapid pace of change in digital technology, in this chapter we do not aim to present an exhaustive view of all technologies and applications available. Instead we discuss why and how digital tools can be useful for language revitalization and highlight types of tools which are being utilized in and adapted to Indigenous North American contexts today.  Compared to print and physical publication of media, digital tools offer some advantages. They are conducive to collaborative and ongoing creation of resources and allow materials to be updated over the life of a project at a lower cost of production and

Article note: The authors contributed equally to this chapter and are listed alphabetically. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-035

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distribution. This can occur either through frequent release of new versions by a core team, or through online platforms that allow a decentralized group of users to create and share content at any time. Digital delivery is well-suited for language applications because it enables a multimodal and interactive experience. Sophisticated digital tools approximate more aspects of face-to-face communication than do print or audio-only resources through interactive audio and video integration (as well as use of spatial and temporal dimensions in virtual reality and other immersive technologies). Finally, because language vitality is sustained through frequent use of a language across multiple domains, digital tools may be uniquely important. Such tools facilitate use of Indigenous languages in new domains such as digitally-delivered entertainment and education, and technology-mediated social interaction and creation of knowledge. Because digital technologies are new and evolving, using Indigenous languages in these domains can generate excitement and show that these languages remain vibrant and relevant. These strengths notwithstanding, development and sustained use of digital tools also involves unique challenges. Technical skills are required to create or adapt digital tools, and this may necessitate training for community members or enlisting the help of outside specialists. The long-term usability of digital tools is also a concern, as hardware, software, and distribution methods can rapidly change and become obsolete, particularly for mobile devices. Such changes can degrade the functionality or availability of tools. For communities who choose to limit outside access to online language resources, user vetting and user credential management are also an ongoing task. Thus, unlike print materials, digital tools require maintenance over time and successful sustained use requires planning for the long-term costs of keeping a tool compatible with the devices in use in a given community. For this reason, some digital tool creators have chosen to partner with companies who maintain software for commercial use or to select open source1 software which is widely-used outside of language revitalization and maintained by active communities of developers. To ensure long-term availability, language data and code used in digital tools should also be stored safely in an archive or institutional repository. Finally, it bears mention that the creation of a digital tool does not guarantee its short-term adoption or long-term use. Efforts to promote tools and connect with potential users are still crucial if digital tools are to have a positive impact for revitalization.

1 Open source in this case describes software whose source code is publicly accessible and able to be manipulated, enhanced, or modified by any user (https://opensource.com). The community-driven nature of open source software could be especially useful in a revitalization context as it permits those who may be outside of the language community to contribute their technological skills to a project. Tech-savvy users can maintain, regulate, update, and debug open source software from anywhere and as needed (for more on this issue, see Cox 2011).



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35.2 Choosing digital tools for language revitalization The creation and implementation of digital tools for the purpose of supporting language revitalization is an important decision which should be considered carefully by all invested parties. The many Indigenous Peoples in North America are by no means a homogenous group, and each language community possesses unique ideologies, goals, and political complexities which influence how revitalization goals will be realized. Galla (2016) identifies five distinct components that must first be considered in order to determine the appropriateness of creating digital tools to support Indigenous languages: “linguistic and cultural (vitality, literacy), social (domains of use, contexts), technological (infrastructure, training), environmental (speakers’/learners’ locations, ties to land), and economic (financial/human resources) factors” (Galla 2016:1140). Those engaged in language work must consider each of these in turn to assess the potential usefulness of technology in the revitalization process. Designing digital tools for Indigenous languages is a powerfully deliberate activity; “When technology is implemented for language revitalization, learning, and teaching, it is not a simple or haphazard endeavor, but rather a complex reality that necessitates informed decisions” (Galla 2016:1149). In this chapter, we take the view that digital tools can be designed and implemented in ways that address the various needs and goals of a language community while simultaneously reinforcing connections to land and culture. However, it is important to recognize that the development of digital tools may not always be appropriate. Sometimes the best choice for a language community is to forego investing in the development of language-related technology and allocate precious financial, human, and other resources elsewhere.  If a community decides to employ digital tools to support revitalization, design and content are important considerations. The selection of learning activities, topics, genres, linguistic styles, and regional varieties which are featured in tools is significant, and developing a broad set of language resources – digital or otherwise – is no small undertaking. Furthermore, digital tools are not free from challenges frequently seen in other learning settings, such as prioritizing purism, reliance on memorization and word-toword translation, and relegation of languages to limited functions (Wagner 2017; see Eisenlohr 2004 for a review of ideological constructions in technology for language revitalization). Despite these challenges, we contend that, when employed thoughtfully, digital tools can bring flexibility and dynamism in support of language revitalization efforts. There exists an enormous variety of interactive digital tools and applications which can be enlisted towards the various goals of language communities. In the remainder of this chapter, we review digital tools in four categories: learning apps (§  3.1), dictionaries and reference materials (§ 3.2), geo-mapping and place names (§ 3.3), and interactive online spaces (§ 3.4), including interactive storytelling (§ 3.4.1) and video games/gaming

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(§ 3.4.2). We discuss how each category can be leveraged to meet common needs in language revitalization work and provide examples of how tools are being utilized in and adapted to North American contexts.

35.3 Types of Digital Tools 35.3.1 Learning apps Language learning is a core element of language revitalization programs, though the methods used and underlying goals are diverse and context-dependent (Hinton 2011, Chew et al. this volume). In this section, we highlight examples of apps and other software for learning Indigenous languages in North America. In many cases, use of apps is supplemental to face-to-face language teaching in a school, family, or apprenticeship setting. This supplemental use is intended to expand the listening input that learners receive and offer repetition to aid with retention. Some apps also prompt users to produce spoken language and practice reading and writing with automated feedback. The availability of apps extends the opportunity to learn words and phrases to individuals who are not able to participate in more intensive learning settings. For heritage learners in diaspora, using apps can also offer a valuable connection to the language despite geographic separation. Ojibwemodaa! is a software package for learning Ojibwe created by the non-profit Grassroots Indigenous Multimedia in partnership with the for-profit company, Transparent Languages (Hermes et al. 2012). The software is based on nineteen short videos of semi-scripted conversation by native Ojibwe speakers, and allows learners to listen, practice speaking in role play, and learn vocabulary items with flashcards and other activities. Ojibwemodaa! is notable for its community-based design process. Ojibwe speakers and community members collaboratively planned and filmed the conversations in camp settings, then later transcribed and re-recorded them with elders for use in learning activities. The resulting software was distributed as a standard Windows application that runs on PC computers for individual use at school or home, and is also compatible with interactive white boards for use in teacher-directed group classroom activities. More recently, the partnership that produced Ojibwemodaa! has expanded through the 7000 Languages initiative to make the underlying software available to other Indigenous communities.2 The lessons are now delivered through an online interface in

2 https://7000.org.



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a browser and as mobile apps (Android and iOS3). The Manitoba First Nations Education Resource Centre, for example, has partnered with 7000 Languages to produce apps for learning Indigenous North American languages including Dakota, Koasati, Dënesųłiné, and others. Also offering technical support for developing language apps is The First People’s Cultural Council in British Columbia through FirstVoices, a suite of web-based tools and services for Indigenous language archiving and revitalization (Brand et al. 2016, FPCC n.d.). The FirstVoices’ learning program, Language Tutor, allows users to create a series of progressive lessons for beginning and intermediate learners. Learners can listen to a word or phrase, record their own voice, and compare their pronunciation to that of a fluent speaker. Matching exercises and games are also available. One strength of the program is the integration of archival and dictionary content. FirstVoices helps communities to create archival resources with online access, and Language Tutor lessons can incorporate video, audio, and images from those collections.

Fig. 1: Screenshots from the Nisga’a iteration of the FirstVoices mobile app downloaded from the App Store on iOS. The “Flashcards” function of the app allows users to test their vocabulary by viewing and listening to the word in Nisga’a (left), then checking their answers with the English translation and accompanying photo (right). 3 Apple’s iOS and Google’s Android are operating systems used in mobile technology like smartphones and tablets. Android is commonly found in a variety of smartphone platforms, while iOS is only found on devices released by Apple.

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In addition to apps for general audiences, some learning apps, such as Navajo Toddler,4 are specifically designed for children, incorporating topics commonly introduced in early childhood education, such as numbers, colors, body parts, food, and clothing. However, in practice, adults also report using Navajo Toddler, which integrates cultural themes, multimedia, and songs with language learning. Some communities have developed custom platforms for language learning. One example is the dAXunhyuua eLearning Place for the Eyak language.5 Designed as a series of weekly lessons, the daXunhyuua program begins by introducing the sounds of Eyak and everyday words and phrases, then builds in difficulty. The program runs in a web-browser and offers a playful, visually appealing interface, rich with images, music, and Eyak language audio. The incorporation of video content is particularly well-done; it includes episodes and exercises created specifically for the lessons and video content produced from archival audio of Eyak speakers. Another notable custom platform is the Algonquian Linguistic Atlas.6 This website is built on widely-used open source software, including the MySQL relational database system and the TurboGears library for Python7 (Junker and Stewart 2011). While, as the name suggests, the primary site interface is an atlas, it also brings together many resources for learners. The map interface allows a user to select from phrases grouped by theme such as “family”, “weather” or “social events”. The user can then hear the phrase spoken in many Algonquian languages by clicking map icons which mark the speakers’ places of origin. Free mobile apps are also available that organize the same thematic content for learners of a particular language or dialect. Naturally, this site is distinctive for its incorporation of linguistic variation (see Cenerini et al. 2017). The site also hosts a growing number of dictionaries and a sizeable collection of audio and print materials for teaching Algonquian languages.

4 https://digitalrepository.unm.edu/ila_projects/31/ 5 http://www.eyakpeople.com. 6 https://www.atlas-ling.ca. 7 MySQL is an open source relational database management software used to structure and store data for websites. Python is an open source programming language that can be used for developing websites, web apps, and desktop applications, as well as many other purposes. One Python web framework, ­Turbogears, is a software package that helps developers to build and run websites in Python.



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Fig. 2: A screenshot from the Algonquian Linguistic Atlas (https://www.atlas-ling.ca) displaying the results for “I’m happy” in the “feelings” category. All pins shown on the map denote versions of “I’m happy” from various Algonquian languages across North America.

35.3.2 Dictionaries & reference materials A common goal of revitalization efforts is the incorporation of the target language into multiple domains in everyday life, and during this process, it is often helpful for learners to have additional language resources nearby. Dictionary and other reference-style mobile applications can serve as easily accessible resources for learners to augment their vocabulary in real-time and can supplement or replace the traditional physical pocket dictionary or phrasebook. Lexicography is one of the primary endeavours undertaken in traditional language documentation and description (see Rice, this volume), and there are myriad ways that these projects can be realized digitally to support revitalization efforts. Dictionary-style reference apps can be designed around a single language or can make use of general templates which can be customized to fit many different languages. Mobile dictionary apps are especially attractive for users because they can be downloaded onto smartphones for easy access, even without consistent internet service. These apps are generally low-cost, and often free. In this section, we review several dictionary and reference applications developed to support Indigenous languages in North America. Indigenous communities can contract and collaborate with developers to produce dictionary-style reference apps. Thornton Media, Inc. (TMI),8 for example, is a Native8 www.ndnlanguage.com.

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owned tech company devoted to producing media for Indigenous languages. TMI gives clients the option to create apps that are password-protected for exclusive use by the language community and is adamant that language communities retain ownership of all intellectual and cultural property. Once contracted, TMI consults with language experts to determine the app contents, then visits the community with a pre-programmed basic version to elicit recordings and continue development. Common features of these apps include language learning by semantic categories, games, and quizzes. A special “Culture Notes” section gives the option to include songs, videos, stories, and images of prominent leaders and community members. For example, the Speak Oneida app, published in two parts, includes information on the tribe’s history and culture, a searchable dictionary, and modules for language learning organized around grammatical features of the language (see Cassels & Farr 2019).

Fig. 3: Screenshots from the Speak Oneida mobile app developed by Thornton Media, Inc. and downloaded from the App Store on iOS. The homepage (left) allows users to choose from several options, including the 18 Categories section in “Language” (right), where users can learn Oneida vocabulary from different grammatical categories and semantic domains.

Mother Tongues9 is an organization that creates tools for dictionary apps using a “language agnostic design”, meaning its neutral template can be adapted to any language. 9 https://mothertongues.org.



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Founded on Coast Salish territories, Mother Tongues produces a dictionary app suite for web and mobile platforms based on software that is free, open-source, and available on- or off-line. The suite consists of two parts: the Mother Tongue Dictionary (MTD) software and Convertextract, a Python programming library that performs orthographic conversions for Word, Excel, Powerpoint, and Text files while preserving the original formatting (see Littel et al. 2017 on the development of the dictionary software and its features). MTDs are searchable and can include multimedia features alongside the lexicon such as audio, songs, stories, pictures, and flashcard functions. MTDs have been created or are in beta testing for languages from the Tsimshianic, Wakashan, Salishan, Sino-Tibetan and Iroquoian language families. The ʔayʔaj’uθəm (Northern Coast Salishan) and Híɫzaqv (Wakashan) make use of the software’s web platform and showcase the application of MTD’s features to Indigenous languages in North America.

Fig. 4: A screenshot from the Híłzaqv Mother Tongues Dictionary depicting the results of the “Random” function. Users can click on the black bar reading “Get 10 Random Words” to be given ten Híłzaqv ­vocabulary items and their English descriptions. Entries with an accompanying blue music note like ǧvísqv shown above also have accompanying audio.

Methods from computational linguistics also offer promising application in enhancing digital dictionaries and text collections. Technologies such as finite-state transducers can aid users through automatic detection and parsing of words composed of many meaningful units, as are common in polysynthetic languages. For example, researchers working with St. Lawrence Island Yupik (Hunet et al. 2019) have utilized such methods

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in a web-based dictionary that accurately returns entries for a word’s root and derivational suffixes when the user enters a complex inflected word form. In addition to standard lexical information, digital dictionaries can be designed to include cultural, historical, and ethnographic information in ways that are compatible with Indigenous ontologies. An emerging example of this is the Kwak̓wala Plant Dictionary, an intersectional project which relies on the knowledge of Kwakwa̱ ka̱ ’wakw fluent speakers, linguists, forest academics, botanists, and photographers and includes plant-related terminology from previously published sources augmented by novel documentation from Kwak̓wala speakers (Lyall et al. 2019). The draft visual dictionary is designed to be a “community-centred reclamation of plant-based knowledge” and Lyall intentionally presents traditional ethnobotanical information in a manner that is consistent with Kwakwa̱ ka̱ ’wakw epistemologies: “We recognize that a dictionary risks replicating Western ontologies and epistemologies by identifying and listing categories of knowledge that are prominent in dominant Euro-American thought. With the goal of developing a culturally relevant dictionary, Lyall sought to structure this visual dictionary around types of experience that are more prominent in a Kwakwa̱ ka̱ ’wakw view of the forest (i.  e., function, food type, season, etc.), rather than following Linnaean classifications of plants in Latin species and genera.” (Lyall et al. 2019:418)

In this way, the Kwak̓wala Plant Dictionary stands as a useful example of how dictionaries can be intentionally designed to be consistent with the views of a specific community as well as compatible with traditional ways of knowing.

35.3.3 Geo-mapping & place names  One common motive for language revitalization is to cultivate a sense of belonging to one’s culture (Hinton 2011), and for many Indigenous Peoples, language is inextricably tied to culture and the land (Leonard 2017). In this section, we discuss digital tools for geo-mapping and place names that play a valuable role in revitalization by helping communities to preserve and pass on traditional knowledge about the land through Indigenous languages. One project utilizing such tools is The Alaska Native Place Name Project, which aims to create a “comprehensive record of the indigenous place names of Alaska, across all of Alaska’s Native languages” in the form of a “multilingual geo-database” (Alaska Native Place Names Project n.d., see also Holton 2011). The project uses the Nunaliit Atlas Framework,10 which was developed by researchers at Carleton University in Ottawa, Canada, and is available to anyone for use under a free license. In a Nunaliit online atlas, users browse geographic features on the map interface and can click on a feature

10 http://nunaliit.org.



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to access multimedia resources about that place. These can include audio of the traditional place name, etymological information, oral history and traditional stories, and pictures or videos of the place itself. The Yup’ik Environmental Knowledge Atlas (n.d., see also McCann et al. 2016) uses Nunaliit to make accessible traditional knowledge of the Yukon-Kuskokwim delta region in Alaska. The online atlas features stories told by Yup’ik elders in video format displaying transcriptions and translations of the text. One set records oral traditions from Anguyiim nalliini (the time of warring) in early Yup’ik history and another set consists of traditional tales and narratives.  Looking to the future, virtual and augmented reality offer promise for interactive place-based language and culture teaching. Running Wolf & Running Wolf (2017) describe their pilot project to create a virtual reality experience that brings users into a communal bison hunt as historically practiced by several Indigenous Peoples at the site of Madison Buffalo Jump State Park in Montana in the United States. The project uses 3D gaming technology and mobile devices to deliver multilingual scenes teaching traditional cultural practices and environmental knowledge. While use in language revitalization is not yet widespread, virtual and augmented reality have great potential. Indigenous users who are geographically distant or displaced from their community may have the opportunity in the future to connect with their traditional lands via virtual reality. However, as virtual and augmented reality become more mainstream, Indigenous communities will face decisions over the appropriateness of the technology’s use in featuring Indigenous lands, languages, and cultural heritage.

35.3.4 Interactive online spaces  The expansion of a language into new domains of use is of critical concern for its revitalization, and many are working to ensure that Indigenous languages in North America are being represented in the relatively new domain of online spaces. Well-established, highly trafficked websites can be redirected for representation of Indigenous languages through the translation of existing content (see D’Oro 2018 for the grassroots effort to translate Facebook’s interface into Iñupiatun) or by adding novel content in Indigenous languages directly to existing sites (see Wikimedia Canada n.d. for the school project that developed Wikipedia in the Atikamekw language). Including and actively using Indigenous languages in digital spaces represents expansion into domains which have often been dominated by a few major languages. The remainder of this chapter reviews several digital tools created for the purpose of interacting with Indigenous languages in online spaces through storytelling (§ 3.4.1) and video games/gaming (§ 3.4.2).

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35.3.4.1 Interactive storytelling Digital media have an advantage over print in conveying the nuances of a storyteller’s craft. Audio recording can capture linguistic features that are important in interpreting discourse such as prosody, changes in volume, vox, pauses, and hesitation. Additionally, video recording easily captures extra-linguistic features of storytelling like gaze, gesture, and facial expression, which are omitted in print. This section reviews three examples of online spaces which represent storytelling through digital tools. The Blackfoot Language Resources11 website developed by the Algonquian Dictionaries Project features an online database of Blackfoot oral texts and narratives. The site is searchable by keywords or can be browsed by dialect (Kainaa, Aamskapipikani, Aapatohsipikani, and Siksika), storyteller, and genre. Twenty different storytellers have contributed to the database and nine genres are represented: personal story, procedural text, name stories, flood stories, dream stories, funny stories, family stories, ghost stories, and stories about prominent cultural figure Naapi. Site users click on a title to play Blackfoot recordings directly from the site via an embedded audio player, and complete metadata are included in a description box alongside the audio. The Blackfoot Language Resources site is a good example of a platform designed to make audio recordings of stories easily accessible online alongside other language resources (see Genee & Junker 2018 for more about the Blackfoot Language Resources & Digital Dictionary project). The Northern Pomo Language Tools12 website hosts a corpus of stories, narratives, and texts as part of a suite of digital tools for the Northern Pomo language. Each story in the corpus is displayed in video format for which users can select subtitles in Northern Pomo and/or English. A unique feature is the special attention given to the language’s morphology, as each text features an interactive line-by-line morphological breakdown complete with interlinear glossing and audio clips for each segment. Morphoglosses link each morpheme to a “talking dictionary” and other resources available on the site (Carson et al. 2019). Finally, The Ways13 is an ongoing project to create a series of stories on language and culture from Indigenous Peoples in the central Great Lakes region of the United States. Its many videos, interactive maps, and accompanying digital media were created to explore, expand, and challenge existing knowledge and understandings of contemporary Indigenous cultures including the Ojibwe, Menominee, Ho-Chunk, Sauk & Meskwaki and others. Stories such as “Waadookodaading (Ojibwe Language Immersion School)”, “Manoomin (Food that Grows on the Water)”, “Clan Mother: Healing the Community”, and “Prayers in a Song: Learning Language Through Hip-Hop” are depicted through vivid storytelling and engaging videos that highlight ways of life that continue to be important to the many Tribes of the region. As a production of Wisconsin Public 11 https://blackfoot.atlas-ling.ca. 12 http://northernpomolanguagetools.com. 13 https://theways.org/.



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Fig. 5: A screenshot of the “Bear Woman” text in the Northern Pomo Language Tools interface (http://northernpomolanguagetools.com). This text includes a short description of the narrative, line-by-line glossing complete with audio clips and color-coded morphological segmentation, and accompanying video with subtitles available in Pomo, English, or both.

Fig. 6: A screenshot of the Manoomin short story on the The Ways website (https://theways. org/). Each story is accompanied by a subtitled video as well as description and relevant background and historical information, making it an ideal resource for educators looking to include Great Lakes Native culture in the classroom.

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Television Education, The Ways is intended to be an online educational resource and is targeted to school-aged children grades 6-12. Digital stories like those showcased in The Ways serve to “leverage digital media to support accessibility, engagement, and integration of learning resources in educational contexts” (https://theways.org/).

35.3.4.2 Games & gaming Video games are an especially promising digital tool for promoting language revitalization. The inclusion of Indigenous languages in video games allows users to interact with the language in a fun and engaging way that combines language learning with interactive entertainment and gameplay. Traditional stories can also be incorporated into video game storylines, bringing them to younger generations in a novel format. Perhaps even more importantly, the video game medium provides an important platform for youth, who are an important focus of language revitalization movements, to tell new stories of their own. Speaking in the context of Secwepemctsín language revitalization, Lacho and Leon argue that development of video games to teach Indigenous language and culture “fits well within the goals of the Tsm7aksaltn immersion programs” because “youth ‘are the primary users and developers of technology’.” (Lacho & Leon 2017:78, citing Brittain & Mackenzie 2016:441). Based on the Tłı̨ chǫ tale Edànì Nǫgèe Dǫne Gok’eı̨ dì, the video game How the Fox Saved the People demonstrates how an Indigenous language can be used in reanimating traditional stories. All dialogue in the game is conducted entirely in Tłı̨ chǫ Yatıì (with optional English subtitles for learners) and was recorded by Tłı̨ chǫ speakers, including Elder Rosa Mantla. The object of gameplay is to navigate the hero to certain objectives in order to advance the storyline, which follows the traditional narrative. How the Fox Saved the People was officially released in early 2018 and was subsequently tested by children in three of the schools in Tłı̨ chǫ Lands to positive review (Binks-Collier 2018). Lastly, the Initiative for Indigenous Futures (IIF)14 is a partnership of community organizations and universities committed to making spaces for Indigenous youth to be creators of advanced digital media. Produced by the Aboriginal Territories in Cyberspace (AbTeC) research network at Concordia University in Montréal, IIF uses workshops, residencies, symposia, and archiving to develop, design, and plan for the many futures of Indigenous Peoples. Of particular relevance are IIF’s Skins Workshops which serve to “encourage our youth to envision themselves in the future while drawing from their heritage… help[ing] to promote and preserve our stories, languages and cultures while also exposing our youth to the digital tools of today and tomorrow” (http:// indigenousfutures.net/workshops/). The Skins Workshops have been hosted at various

14 https://abtec.org/iif.



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locations across North America and have introduced students to technology such as video games, machinima (making movies within video games), and 3D printing. Products of these workshops include the video games Skahiòn:hati: Rise of the Kanien’kehá:ka Legends, and Ienién:te and the Peacemaker’s Wampum, and machinima for a post-apocalyptic trickster Nehiyaw (Cree) story, “How the Loon Got Its Walk”. All of these (and more) are supported on Windows or MacOS and can be downloaded from the IIF website. The possibility for young people to be producers  – not just consumers  – of technology and digital media is perhaps one of the most valuable and promising uses of digital tools in support of language revitalization.

Fig. 7: A screenshot from the machinima “How the Loon Got Its Walk”, created by Minh Cao, Jonnie Deneyou, Nahiyan Islam, and Miles McCallum through one of Initiative for Indigenous Future’s Skins Workshops (https://vimeo.com/269021935).

35.4 Conclusion Digital tools need not be employed to the exclusion of traditional, physical publishing, and their availability does not diminish the importance of face-to-face settings for teaching and using endangered languages. That notwithstanding, if current trends continue, the prevalence of digital media and influence of online interactive spaces will likely increase over time. Even so, we recognize that digital tools are not a panacea for the multifaceted challenges of language revitalization. Communities engaged in revitalization efforts will need to carefully consider practical, pedagogical, and ideological factors when choosing whether and how to employ digital technologies. Used thoughtfully, digital tools have great potential to bring flexibility and dynamism in support of community goals underlying revitalization, and offer meaningful channels for learning and interacting with Indigenous languages. 

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References Alaska Native Place Names Project. n.d. http://akplacenames.org/. (Accessed 13 Jun 2019). Begay, Winoka Rose. 2013. Mobile apps and indigenous language learning: New developments in the field of indigenous language revitalization. University of Arizona MA thesis. https://repository.arizona.edu/ handle/10150/293746. Binks-Collier, Max. 2018. Let’s Speak Tłı̨ chǫ. http://emergingindigenousvoices.ca/project/ speak-tli%cc%a8ch%c7%ab/. (Accessed 28 May 2020). Brand, Peter, Tracey Herbert & Shaylene Boechler. 2016. Language Vitalization through Mobile and Online Technologies in British Columbia. In Laurel Evelyn Dyson, Stephen Grant & Max Hendriks (eds.), Indigenous People and Mobile Technologies 2, 65–273. (Routledge Studies in New Media and Cyberculture 31). New York & London: Routledge. Brittain, Julie & Marguerite MacKenzie. 2016. Language endangerment and revitalization strategies. In Nancy Bonvillain (ed.), The Routledge Handbook of Linguistic Anthropology, 433–446. New York & London: Routledge. Cassels, Morgan & Chloe Farr. 2019. Mobile applications for Indigenous language learning: Literature review and app survey. Working Papers of the Linguistics Circle of the University of Victoria 29(1). 1–24. Carson, Jr., Erica, Ethan Rimdzius, Brady Dailey, James Sbordone & Catherine O’Connor. 2019. Bear Woman Told Four Times: Leveraging Scarce Resources for Learning. Paper presented at the 6th Annual International Conference on Language Documentation & Conservation, Honolulu, February 28–March 3, 2019. http://hdl.handle.net/10125/44814. Cenerini, Chantale, Marie-Odile Junker & Nicole Rosen. 2017. Mapping Dialectal Variation Using the Algonquian Linguistic Atlas. Language Documentation & Conservation 11. 305–324. http://hdl.handle. net/10125/24738. Cox, Christopher. 2011. The ecology of documentary linguistic software development. Paper presented at the 2nd Annual International Conference of Language Documentation and Conservation, Honolulu, February 11–13. http://hdl.handle.net/10125/5239. dAXunhyuu. The Eyak People. n.d. Bringing Back Eyak! http://www.eyakpeople.com. (Accessed 15 May 2019). D’Oro, Rachel. 2018. Facebook adds Inupiaq as language option. Anchorage Daily News, 2018, 09.02. https:// www.adn.com/alaska-news/2018/09/02/facebook-adds-inupiaq-as-language-option/. (Accessed 25 Jun 2019).  Eisenlohr, Patrick. 2004. Language Revitalization and New Technologies: Cultures of Electronic Mediation and the Refiguring of Communities. Annual Review of Anthropology 33(1). 21–45. doi:10.1146/annurev. anthro.33.070203.143900. First People’s Cultural Council. n.d. FirstVoices. https://www.firstvoices.com/. (Accessed 13 Jun 2019). Galla, Candace Kaleimamoowahinekapu. 2016. Indigenous language revitalization, promotion, and education: function of digital technology. Computer Assisted Language Learning, 29(7). 1137–1151, doi:10.1080/09588221.2016.1166137. Genee, Inge & Marie-Odile Junker. 2018. The Blackfoot Language Resources and Digital Dictionary project: Creating integrated web resources for language documentation and revitalization. Language Documentation & Conservation 12. 274–314. http://hdl.handle.net/10125/24770. Hermes, Mary, Megan Bang & Ananda Marin. 2012. Designing Indigenous Language Revitalization. Harvard Educational Review 82(3). 381–402. doi:10.17763/haer.82.3.q8117w861241871j. Hinton, Leanne. 2011. Language revitalization and language pedagogy: new teaching and learning strategies. Language and Education 25(4). 307–318. doi:10.1080/09500782.2011.577220. Holton, Gary. 2011. ‘Unknown unknowns’ and the retrieval problem in language documentation and archiving. Language Documentation and Conservation 5. 157–168. http://hdl.handle.net/10125/4496.



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Hunt, Benjamin, Emily Chen, Sylvia L.R. Schreiner, & Lane Schwartz. 2019. Community lexical acess for an endangered polysynthetic language: An electronic dictionary for St. Lawrence Island Yupik. In Waleed Ammar, Annie Louis & Nasrin Mostafazadeh (eds.), Proceedings of the 2019 Conference of the North American Chapter of the Association for Computational Linguistics (NAACL) (Demonstrations), 122–126. Stroudsberg, PA: Association for Computational Linguistics. https://www.aclweb.org/anthology/N19-4. pdf. Initiative for Indigenous Futures. 2019. http://indigenousfutures.net. (Accessed 28 Jun 2019). Junker, Marie-Odile & Terry Stewart. 2011. A linguistic atlas for endangered languages: www.atlas-ling.ca. Proceedings of EDULEARN 11, International Conference on Education and New Learning Technologies. Barcelona, Spain. 3366–3376. Lacho, David Dennison & Aaron Leon. 2017. Please mom? Can you please download it at home?: Video Games as a Symbol of Linguistic Survivance. Transmotion 3(1). 70–70. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2017. Producing language reclamation by decolonising ‘language.’ In Wesley Y. Leonard & Haley De Korne (eds.), Language Documentation and Description 14, 15–36. London: EL Publishing. Littell, Patrick, Aidan Pine & Henry Davis. 2017. Waldayu and Waldayu Mobile: Modern digital dictionary interfaces for endangered languages. 141–150. doi:10.18653/v1/W17-0119. https://www.aclweb.org/ anthology/papers/W/W17/W17-0119/.  Lyall, Andrea, Harry Nelson, Daisy Rosenblum & Mark Turin. 2019. Ḵ̓ a̱ḵ̓ot̕łatła̱no’x̱w x̱a ḵ̓waḵ̓wax̱’mas: Documenting and reclaiming plant names and words in Kwak̓wala on Canada’s west coast. Language Documentation & Conservation 13. 401–425. http://hdl.handle.net/10125/24872. McCann, Heidi, Peter L. Pulsifer & Carolina Behe. 2016. Sharing and Preserving Indigenous Knowledge of the Arctic Using Information and Communications Technology. In Camille Callison, Loriene Roy & Gretchen Alice LeCheninant (eds.), Indigenous notions of ownership and libraries, archives, and musuems, 126–144. Berlin/Boston: Walter de Gruyter. Running Wolf, Michael & Caroline Running Wolf. 2017. Reigniting the Many Voices of a Communal Bison Hunt in Virtual Reality. Paper presented at the 5th Annual International Conference on Language Documentation & Conservation, Honolulu, March 2–5. http://hdl.handle.net/10125/42023. Thornton Media, Inc. 2017. http://www.ndnlanguage.com. (Accessed 25 Jun 2019). Wagner, Irina. 2017. New Technologies, Same Ideologies: Learning from Language Revitalization Online. Language Documentation & Conservation 11. 133–156. http://hdl.handle.net/10125/24730. The Ways. 2019. https://theways.org/about.html. (Accessed 28 Jun 2019). Wikimedia Canada. n.d. Atikamekw knowledge, culture and language in Wikimedia projects. https:// ca.wikimedia.org/wiki/Atikamekw_knowledge,_culture_and_language_in_Wikimedia_projects. (Accessed 25 Jun 2019). Yup’ik Environmental Knowledge Project Atlas. n.d. http://eloka-arctic.org/communities/yupik/atlas/index. html. (Accessed 13 Jun 2019).

Megan Lukaniec

36 Using archival materials for language reclamation Abstract: For a number of Indigenous communities in North America, there are no remaining speakers of the ancestral language due to a complete shift to a colonial language. In these contexts, language practitioners and researchers (whose memberships are not mutually exclusive) must use archival documentation in order to breathe new life into the language. This process, by which individuals and communities work toward reawakening their language, including creating a new generation of speakers and setting associated goals, is called language reclamation (Leonard 2011). This chapter discusses the process of working with archival materials for the purposes of reclamation, including finding and accessing archival materials, interpreting and analyzing archival materials, and repurposing the language found within these materials for language learning and teaching.

36.1 Introduction This chapter introduces the process of language reclamation using archival documentation within the context of Indigenous North America. The term language reclamation has been used in various ways; § 2 situates its use within the context of this paper. Section 3 provides a brief introduction about archival documentation, the invaluable materials which make reclamation possible. The next three sections pertain to the stages of language reclamation, including accessing archival materials (§ 4), interpreting archival materials (§ 5), and repurposing archival materials for language learning and teaching (§  6). The last section provides some conclusions about using archival materials for language reclamation and the implications of this work for the reclaimed language (§ 7). As a Wendat linguist and language reclamation practitioner, I have been working to reawaken my heritage language from archival documentation for over a decade and doing so in collaboration with other members of the Huron-Wendat Nation. Our language, also called Huron, was dormant for over 150 years, and we are gradually breathing life back into the language using seventeenth and eighteenth century archival documentation. The process outlined in this chapter is informed by this work, along with insights from other dormant language contexts and the field of Indigenous language reclamation.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-036

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36.2 Situating language reclamation Although the term language revitalization is widespread in its use, I choose to use the term language reclamation, both to contextualize the discussions in this chapter and to describe my own community-based language work. While they sometimes seem to be used interchangeably, these terms are not, in fact, synonyms. There are two principal ways in which researchers, practitioners, and members of language communities (these categories are not mutually exclusive) differentiate language revitalization versus language reclamation. The first way in which these terms are contrasted is with respect to the status of the language. Amery (2000), along with Grenoble & Whaley (2006), make a distinction between reclamation, which would be used in contexts in which the language is dormant, and revitalization, which would refer to contexts in which there are still speakers1 of the language. This way of understanding revitalization and reclamation underscores the differences in the process of reversing language shift. In revitalization, communities work with existing speakers (and sometimes documentation) to create new speakers and attain other goals. In reclamation, communities work exclusively with archival documentation in order to create new speakers and set other goals. However, another way of conceptualizing the two is with respect to the intended outcomes of the process, regardless of whether or not communities still have speakers. Language revitalization then, according to Leonard (2011: 141), is “breathing new life into the language” by working toward “increasing the number of speakers, increasing the domains in which the language is used, and promoting intergenerational transmission of the language”. Language reclamation, on the other hand, is a “a larger effort by a community to claim its right to speak a language and to set associated goals in response to community needs and perspectives” (Leonard 2012: 359). In this sense, language reclamation is part of a larger community process of decolonization. As hinted to above, still others use only the term language revitalization, considering it to be an umbrella term which covers contexts with and without speakers, and meaning “giving new life and vigor to a language that has been decreasing in use (or has ceased to be used altogether)” (Hinton et al. 2018: xxi). While this umbrella term recognizes the commonalities across these contexts, the process of breathing new life into dormant languages requires additional, different approaches, knowledges, and tools. Therefore, in this chapter, I am using the term language reclamation to refer to the process whereby dormant language communities use archival documentation to reawaken the language and achieve other decolonial goals. In other words, language reclamation, as it is discussed here, is assumed to be archival based (for the purposes of arriving at a more nuanced discussion of using archival documentation), although I 1 The term speaker can be a controversial one, since speakerhood has often been determined by outside researchers and only applied to a small group of individuals deemed “fluent” (Leonard & Haynes 2010; Davis 2017). I use the term here in a broad sense to differentiate the dormant language context, in which there are no remaining speakers.



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recognize that this term, as defined by Leonard (2011; 2012; 2017; 2018), is used (and should be used) more broadly in contexts where there are still language speakers. In order to better address some of the challenges associated with language reclamation, I assume here that the creation of new speakers is one of the goals in this process. However, I recognize that each community should and does set its own goals for reclamation (which of course, evolve over time), and that for some of these communities, the primary goal is not to create speakers who can use the language on a daily basis, but rather to use the language primarily or solely for ceremonial, emblematic, or other purposes. There are a number of communities undergoing language reclamation efforts in Indigenous North America. Some of the more well-known instances of reawakening languages in the U.S. are Mutsun (Warner, Luna & Butler 2007), Myaamia (Baldwin et al. 2013), Tunica (Anderson 2020; https://tunica.wp.tulane.edu/), and Wôpanâôt8âôk (baird 2013; https://www.wlrp.org/). One of the cases of reawakening languages in Canada is my heritage language, Wendat (Dorais, Lukaniec & Sioui 2011), and I give examples from our community-based reclamation initiative throughout the chapter.

36.3 Archival documentation In the context of this chapter, the terms archival documentation and archival materials refer to any and all previous documentation of the language that is deposited in an archive or held in a private collection, regardless of its age, its scope, its intended audience, or the role of its creator in the language community (e.  g., linguist, anthropologist, missionary, community researcher, etc.). Archival documentation is crucial, not only because it is the sole source of information for reclaiming the language, but it also provides glimpses of the language and the community at an earlier state, capturing the speech of community members from decades or even centuries ago. For communities with and without speakers, these materials are invaluable for their insight into the language and its structure, and also for their potential to uncover the social, political, and cultural factors that were relevant during the time of documentation. This being said, archival materials are also potentially difficult to work with, especially for members of the language community, as they often allude to historical traumas that communities experienced during the time of documentation (e.  g., speech related to epidemics, forced migrations, religious conversion efforts, etc.). The factors that led to the total shift from the Indigenous language to a colonial language also disrupted the language community with regards to culture, traditional knowledge, relationships, and ideologies. It is important to be aware that this work can be “emotionally heavy” (Rosenblum & Berez-Kroeker 2018: 349), especially at the beginning stages of accessing and working with archival documentation.

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36.4 Accessing archival materials The first step in the language reclamation process is finding and accessing the archival documentation, whether it is deposited in formal archives or held in private collections (although the latter can be much harder to access). This documentation can come in a variety of forms, including written materials such as dictionaries, word lists, grammars, field notes, etc., whether they be manuscripts or more recent, digital files. There also may be audio recordings available, whose content could include elicited words, stories, conversation, etc., and whose original media used can range from wax cylinders to modern, digital recordings. In more recently created documentation, it is possible that video recordings are also available. There are innumerable archives scattered across North America, including those affiliated with universities, libraries, museums, and historical societies, so the search process can be quite involved. A number of such repositories have considerable holdings pertaining to the Indigenous languages of North America. In the United States, some of the major repositories include the National Anthropological Archives of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C.; the American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia, PA; the Survey of California and Other Indian Languages of the University of California, Berkeley in Berkeley, CA; the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C.; and the Native American Languages Collection at the Sam Noble Museum in Norman, OK; among others. In Canada, some of the more important holdings are located at Library and Archives Canada in Ottawa, ON; the Canadian Museum of History in Gatineau, QC; the Royal BC Museum in Victoria, BC; and the Jesuit Archives of Canada in Montreal, QC. Still other institutions may have reproductions of primary sources. Due to the somewhat haphazard ways in which materials have been collected and deposited in archives, it is not rare for documentation to be held in institutions far away from the territory of the language community. Therefore, it may be worthwhile to search the catalogues of institutions across the region, country, North America, and even Europe (in cases where colonists and missionaries brought materials back to Europe). In addition, due to the legacies of how collections were created, there are many materials that are labeled simply “Unknown language” or “Indian language”, and are also worth investigating. Contacting an archivist about the materials found in the institution’s catalogue is one of the first steps in obtaining further information and eventually, digital copies of the materials. It may also be necessary to visit the archives to see the scope and content of the materials. Some institutions will allow individuals to make their own digital copies of written materials, typically by taking pictures of the documentation, yet other institutions do not. One way to receive some training in conducting archival research is by attending a Breath of Life Institute. These institutes have been held since 1993 for the purpose of allowing teams of community members and linguist partners to access the archives, take introductory courses in linguistics and language reclamation, and start the process



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of working with these materials. There are two regularly occurring iterations of these institutes: the first (and original) one is held at the University of California, Berkeley and the second is held in Washington, D.C. in collaboration with the Smithsonian Institution. Other Breath of Life institutes have been held at the University of Washington (2003; 2005), the University of Oklahoma (2012; 2014), and the University of British Columbia (2017). Overviews of some of these Breath of Life Institutes and the lessons learned from such gatherings are in Fitzgerald & Linn (2013), Sammons & Leonard (2015), and Baldwin, Hinton, & Pérez-Báez (2018).

36.5 Interpreting archival materials After accessing and obtaining digital reproductions of archival materials, it is often daunting to begin the lengthy process of interpreting these materials and applying them to reclamation efforts. A good way to familiarize oneself with the materials and get a sense of their scope is to create an index2. In language reclamation contexts, where the goals of the research include language learning and teaching, it is often most helpful to create an index according to subject matter or semantic category. As one continues to delve into these materials, new and significant aspects of the documentation become relevant and can be easily added to the index, including details of the metadata, such as date transcribed or consultant, and other elements of the content, such as grammatical feature or lexical category. There are a number of factors that can complicate working with archival materials, including legibility, idiosyncratic or ambiguous systems of transcribing sounds and grammar, lack of metadata, among others. To illustrate this point, we can look at some examples from transcriptions of Wendat, a member of the Iroquoian language family which was documented extensively by the Jesuit missionaries during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The Jesuit transcription system is not particularly transparent, as they used symbols and abbreviations based upon notions from their first language, French, as well as from Greek and Latin. For example, they used the Greek symbols chi (χ) and theta (θ) to transcribe the sequences kh and th in Wendat, which were not found in French. In addition, the Jesuits used a variety of abbreviations to make note of grammatical features in Wendat. One of these abbreviations was in. comp., a shortened form of Latin intra compositionem3, meaning ‘within a combination, arrangement’, which indicates that the given verb base can incorporate nouns. 2 I would like to thank Leanne Hinton for offering this tip during my presentation on the process of dormant language reclamation at the 2017 International Conference on Language Documentation & Conservation. 3 I would like to thank Dr. Gregory Rowe of the University of Victoria’s Department of Greek and Roman Studies for his gracious help in decoding and understanding these Latin abbreviations, including intra compositionem.

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In spite of the detailed, grammatical information that accompanies some of these entries, unfortunately, the Jesuits did not typically transcribe metadata, so these manuscripts are for the most part undated and unmarked as to which Wendat village they were transcribed in and who the transcriber was. Thus, although we know that different Wendat dialects existed during these centuries, without metadata, it is difficult to ascertain whether variation in transcription is due to dialect differences, sociolinguistic variation, diachronic change, transcription errors, or a combination thereof. As these examples suggest, it can be a slow process to understand the transcription system(s), especially for older documentation. In some cases, it may be helpful to create a chart or a key to keep track of orthographic conventions and if relevant, other transcription practices. Both Austin & Crowley (1995) and Spence (2018) provide further information on how to decode transcriptions in old archival materials. As the process of interpreting the transcription system progresses, it will become clearer how to develop a standardized orthography. Having a standard way to represent the sounds in the language can be helpful when producing reference and pedagogical materials and teaching the language, yet standardization is not typically a straightforward or easy process. In my experiences of revising the Wendat standardized orthography with the Wendat Language Committee, a standing committee of community members whose mandate is to make decisions through consensus about language-related matters, this work necessitated long hours of intense discussions in which we debated the advantages and disadvantages of choosing one symbol over the other. Decisions can be even harder to make when there are dialect differences and other types of variation. Some sources which contain detailed information about how to create an orthography include Thieberger (1995), Grenoble & Whaley (2006), and the edited volumes of Cahill & Rice (2014) and Jones & Mooney (2017). Depending on the age, transparency, and accuracy of the transcriptions found in archival materials, as pointed out by Leonard (2008: 28), it is often the case that the “formal tools of linguistics” may be necessary in order to access and accurately use the language found in these materials4. For example, Wendat verbs are inflected for aspectmood, or in other words, how an action or event unfolds through time, and the Jesuits accordingly had a system of transcribing and organizing the aspect-mood suffixes for each verb base. In Potier’s (1751: 171) Wendat-French dictionary, the entry for the verb ‘to 4 It is possible to learn some of the tools of linguistics in order to better understand the archival materials without necessarily working toward a degree. Some summer institutes teach courses on introductory linguistics and language reclamation, including the American Indian Language Development Institute (AILDI) (https://aildi.arizona.edu/content/welcome-aildi), the Breath of Life Institute (https://aicls. org/breath-of-life-institute/), the Canadian Indigenous Languages and Literacy Development Institute (CILLDI) (https://www.ualberta.ca/canadian-indigenous-languages-and-literacy-development-institute/ index.html), the Institute on Collaborative Language Research (CoLang) (https://www.linguisticsociety. org/content/colang-institute-collaborative-research), the National Breath of Life Archival Institute for Indigenous Languages (https://miamioh.edu/myaamia-center/breath-of-life/index.html), and the Northwest Indian Language Institute (https://nili.uoregon.edu/summer-institute/).



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leave’ contains the Jesuit-invented infinitive araskȣan (with the attached stative aspectmood suffix -anh) and then the sequence ȣas, ȣa, ȣahe. Each of these three units contains the last consonant in the verb base, the glide w (transcribed as ȣ5), followed respectively by the habitual aspect-mood suffix -ahs, the punctual aspect-mood suffix -a’, and the combination of the dislocative derivational suffix -h- and the purposive aspect-mood suffix -e’. Without linguistic knowledge of aspect and mood, the typology of these categories, and their manifestation in other Iroquoian languages, it would be difficult to interpret what these sequences represent and how they are used. In cases such as these, it could be helpful to acquaint oneself with existing grammatical descriptions of the language and those of related languages. Understanding the structure of the language and that of related languages will provide a foundation with which to interpret the archival materials. In certain instances, it is beneficial to apply the methods of historical-comparative linguistics to the interpretation of these materials. Depending on the age of the documentation and the linguistic training of the documenter, there may be significant and consistent errors in the transcription of the sounds of the language. In cases where there is no accompanying audio to verify the transcriptions, using the tools of historical-comparative linguistics can be a way to repair these errors and restore the forms in the documentation to the state (or close to the state) in which they were spoken. For example, the Jesuit missionaries documenting Wendat did not consistently transcribe glottal stops (ʔ) or aspiration (h), both of which are distinctive sounds (phonemes) in the language. The position of the glottal stops in the Wendat word otarihati ‘il fait chaud [it’s hot (the weather)]’ (Potier 1751: 182) can be reconstructed with the cognate verb base in Oneida: -aʔtalihaʔt- ‘heat up, get hot’ (Michelson & Doxtator 2002: 325). This verb base, in both Oneida and Wendat, is complex and consists of the verb root -a’tarih- ‘be hot’, an epenthetic vowel -a-, and the causative suffix -’t-. The initial o of the word otarihati, representing the third person neuter patient pronominal prefix (‘it’), can be reconstructed by the identical pronominal prefix form o- in Onondaga, which appears word-initially and results in the loss of the initial a of the verb base (Woodbury 2003: 742). The aspiration, or h, in the stative aspect-mood suffix -ih, transcribed only as i at the end of the Wendat word otarihati, can be reconstructed from Onondaga for the same verb base (Woodbury 2003: 315). From identifying and comparing these forms from related languages6, the missing glottal stops and aspiration can be restored, giving us the reconstructed (and standardized) Wendat word o’tariha’tih.

5 This symbol is actually the ligature Ȣ, a combination of the vowel u on top of the vowel o, which was used to represent the glide w before vowels and the vowel ou before consonants. 6 In the actual practice of reclamation-driven reconstruction, all instances of this verb base in the archival documentation and its cognates found in all Northern Iroquoian languages should be gathered and reviewed as a whole. For the sake of simplicity, I only provide information from one Wendat manuscript and cognates from two sister languages.

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This process, which I call reclamation-driven reconstruction7, involves gathering information from the archival materials according to root, base, stem, or word, finding cognates (or related forms) from sister languages, and repairing the forms from the archival materials based upon comparative analysis. It necessarily involves understanding the sound changes that occurred in the language as well as those found in each of the sister languages, in order to identify cognates and accurately reconstruct the root, base, stem, or word in question. Without performing this reconstruction, in contexts such as the Wendat one, this would lead to distinct lexical items being misconstrued as homophones and the appearance of more syncretism in paradigms. More importantly, by reconstructing the language and repairing these forms, we are doing our best to respect and honour the legacy left by our ancestors. There are various circumstances, however, which would not allow or easily allow for reclamation-driven reconstruction, the most evident of which is if the language is an isolate, or in other words, is not known to be related to any other language. In other contexts, it may be the case that there has been little work on the history of the language family, which would make it difficult to know how the languages have changed over time. It is also possible that the language itself has deviated significantly from its relatives. In still other cases, there may not be accessible, sufficient documentation of all of the sister languages to find cognates. In any of these particular situations, reclamation-driven reconstruction would be substantially more difficult to undertake. Another inevitable issue with archival documentation is that it cannot possibly document the language in its entirety. As Spence (2018: 184) states, “no finite corpus of language documentation, especially one that is assembled haphazardly by many researchers over many decades, can possibly replace a living speech community as a source of information”. As such, there are different types of gaps in archival documentation, including lexical gaps, grammatical gaps, and semantic gaps (see Spence 2018 for examples of these gaps8). There is also a good chance that the body of documentation is not representative of all genres of speech (conversation, narrative, ceremonial speech, child-directed speech, etc.). With any of these gaps in the documentation, there are many possible routes for making informed decisions about how to remedy them, which depend on community dynamics and existing resources. There are no easy solutions to many of these gaps but thinking through a process and criteria used to make 7 I use this term, reclamation-driven reconstruction, instead of the more established terms in historical-comparative linguistics, such as comparative reconstruction and internal reconstruction. With comparative reconstruction, the goal is to gain a better understanding of the proto-language and relationships among the sister languages. For internal reconstruction, the goal is to better understand an earlier state of the language. Although some of this knowledge can be gained through the reconstruction discussed in this chapter, since the goal is to repair forms for the purpose of language reclamation, neither of those terms is suitable for this process. 8 This article also provides supplementary information on many of the topics discussed in this paper, including accessing and interpreting archival materials as well as how to apply the information in archival materials to language revitalization.



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decisions may help guide the work. For example, looking at how related or neighboring languages encode this information can provide some options to consider. In the Wendat context, in addition to considering what other Northern Iroquoian languages use in any particular linguistic context under discussion, the Wendat Language Committee agrees that all decisions must respect the grammar of our language and be in accordance with our culture and worldview. Taking a closer look at such gaps, another linguistic method that can be applied is called reconstitution9. This method, used to fill lexical gaps, involves adopting a root, base, stem, word, or phrase into the language, based upon information from sister languages. This can be used in cases where a word is not found in the historical record (although more comprehensive documentation should have captured this lexical item), and is deemed necessary for the purposes of language reclamation. Again, this method, like reclamation-driven reconstruction, has its limitations in the context of isolates or little comparative information. An example of this method in use pertains to the Wendat winter game of snowsnake for which there is no recorded lexical item. Given that the sister language Onondaga shares an especially large number of cognates and grammatical patterns with Wendat, the Onondaga verb base -hwęhdayę- + dualic ‘play snowsnake’ (Woodbury 2003: 577) was borrowed into Wendat, adapted to its phonology and standardized to its orthography to yield -hwenhtaen- + duplicative. Another common aspect of language reclamation is the development of lexical innovations, or in other words, new words for contemporary items or concepts. These lexical items are not found in the archival documentation, because the documentation predates these contemporary items, the language ceased to be spoken before these contemporary items entered into the society, or both. This process involves knowledge of the different ways in which lexical items can be created (e.  g., neologisms, semantic extensions, calques, loans), knowledge of grammatical structure, and knowledge of cultural values and practices of the language community. The archival documentation, then, provides the grammatical and lexical material and patterns for creating new words. In 2016, upon examining the corresponding lexical items in related languages, the Wendat Language Committee formed the neologism -akwendotraht-/-akwendotrat- ‘to talk on the telephone (lit. to make one’s voice travel)’, consisting of a middle voice prefix -ak-, an incorporated noun root -wend- for ‘voice’, a verb root -otra(h)- meaning ‘to travel from one end to the other’, and a causative suffix -t-. Strikingly different from lexical items in other Northern Iroquoian languages created much earlier, this new verb base uses Wendat lexical content and derivational patterns to conceptualize and describe this activity, as we understand it as twenty-first century Wendat people. 9 Some scholars use the terms reconstitution or comparative reconstitution to discuss a process that is similar to internal reconstruction (e.  g., Broadbent 1957; Dench 2000; Browne et al. 2019). I distinguish the process of reclamation-driven reconstruction from reconstitution, since in the former, one works with forms found in the archival documentation, and in the latter, one makes decisions about forms not attested in the archival documentation.

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Finally, in interpreting and analyzing archival materials, a new layer of documentation is often created, and this work should also be preserved for future generations. For example, when repairing forms, filling in gaps, and adopting new words, it is important to document how and why you are making the decisions you are making, in order to create a record for future generations. These new layers of documentation should be archived, as well as the pedagogical and reference materials that result from repurposing the language found in these archival sources.

36.6 Repurposing archival materials for reclamation The archival research process is not an end in itself, but only a means to work toward reawakening the language. Therefore, the guiding question throughout this research is how one repurposes the language found in these materials to support the goals of language reclamation. In most cases, the materials themselves and the language that appears in them were not intended for language reclamation, and therefore, it takes some creativity to be able to repurpose this information. There is no one way to go about repurposing the language in archival materials, and in fact, it is typical to use a variety of strategies and methods to learn, teach, and reincorporate the language into the heritage language community (see also Chew, Leonard, & Rosenblum, this volume). In Wendat language reclamation efforts, we started working on several strands of the project simultaneously, including archival research, reconstruction, materials development, teacher training, and language learning. There is no “right” way to begin; you must simply begin. One common initial step toward repurposing this information for reclamation is to create a new set of materials designed for language learning and teaching. There are two major types of materials that are useful for language reclamation: reference materials, such as dictionaries and (pedagogical) grammars, and pedagogical materials, such as curricula, language lessons, games, stories, and exercises. Creating these resources is no trivial matter, and it typically takes years to develop them, so it may be useful to consciously design the resources in terms of ongoing, working editions instead of fixed, final products (i.  e., each edition or version of the resource represents some agreed upon, “significant” amount of work). The structure of both reference and pedagogical materials should reflect the needs of the reclamation efforts. For example, depending on the community’s goals, a dictionary organized alphabetically may not be as useful as one organized by semantic category. Also, many Indigenous language communities choose to structure pedagogical materials according to cultural values and practices (Ignace 2016). For instance, a language curriculum can be organized by the traditional calendar and its associated cultural practices. Finally, in this digital era, it is possible to create digital resources that can present information in multiple ways according to different audiences and needs (for further information, see Surma & Truong, this volume).



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There are, of course, unique hurdles to overcome for dormant language communities. Without speakers to learn from and to depend upon for insights, guidance, and teaching support, there is a need to build capacity within the community to gradually learn and teach the language. However, there is no simple way to learn a language without speakers. Although there are archival materials, and hopefully, reference and pedagogical materials to rely on, as Amery (1995: 148) points out, one cannot simply “swallow the dictionary” and learn the language. For some, it initially takes a certain degree of memorization. At the beginning of his family’s Myaamia language learning journey, Daryl Baldwin taped word lists around the house and kept notes in his pockets with vocabulary words that he was currently trying to learn and introduce to his family (Baldwin et al. 2013). In reclamation work on her language, Wôpanâôt8âôk, jessie little doe baird (2013) would learn new vocabulary by recording herself speaking the words and creating short conversations, gradually incorporating more complex language. In a similar vein, for Kaurna language reclamation in Australia, Amery (2000) developed the Formulaic Method in which one initially learns prefabricated, highly practical units of language, such as greetings, leave-takings, question words, and exclamations. Over time, the learner is able to master more complex utterances and identify grammatical patterns. There are numerous ways in which Indigenous languages are taught, and detailed descriptions of these methods exist elsewhere (e.  g., the various contributions in Hinton et al. [eds.] 2018). In many contexts, even those with speakers, it is often the case that “Indigenous language learners must stand up and become teachers” (Johnson 2017: 521), both learning and teaching the language in parallel. Hinton (2003) addresses the challenges of being a teacher-learner and advises that the teacher-learner only needs to stay ahead of the students by a single lesson. In the Wendat context, we experience the same challenges of learning and teaching simultaneously. Furthermore, we recognize that we have yet to create new speakers of the language, despite teaching the language in our community for over a decade. We hope to build more proficiency in the upcoming years, by gradually transitioning to immersion learning, as immersion has had the most success in creating new speakers in Indigenous communities across North America (McIvor 2015; Ignace 2016; Green & Maracle 2018). Finally, as Warner, Geary, and Butler (2018: 226) point out, it is also necessary to “create opportunities for more open-ended, less structured language use”. This is often the hardest step or hurdle in the language reclamation process, as there are sometimes no recordings to model pronunciation. Therefore, there can be hesitation and reluctance on the part of community members to make the leap toward using the language (ideally, in one’s everyday life) and not just learning the language. However, once individuals take this step, this can be the most rewarding part of the process, as it moves the language community closer toward achieving its goals.

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36.7 Conclusion In Indigenous North America, there is a growing number of researchers and practitioners who work directly with archival materials rather than language speakers. Without the expertise and guidance from speakers, it can be an arduous (yet rewarding) process to reintroduce the heritage language into its community. Furthermore, it often requires gaining additional expertise (e.  g., in [historical-comparative] linguistics) in order to interpret and analyze the archival materials. Because of these challenges, the work of repurposing archival materials and reawakening the language is one that occurs over decades and generations, rather than months or years. Another reality for dormant language communities is that the reclaimed language will inevitably be different from the language that was formerly spoken. Although the reclamation will be “imperfect” (Warner, Luna & Butler 2007), there are some things that we can do as researchers and practitioners to minimize as much as possible the differences between the language formerly spoken and the new, reclaimed language. These strategies are to: 1) apply the method of reclamation-driven reconstruction, where necessary, to repair errors in the documentation; 2) use reconstitution based upon knowledge of related languages to fill in lexical gaps; 3) for other types of gaps, look at related languages and neighbouring languages to find possible solutions; and 4) create lexical innovations which respect the structure of the language and are grounded in the community’s culture and values. We also need to be flexible and be willing to change and adapt as research progresses and our knowledge grows. Despite the challenges in archival-based language reclamation, it is indeed possible for Indigenous communities to reawaken their languages. During moments in which I am discouraged at the work yet to accomplish for fully reawakening Wendat, I often look to those individuals and communities who have paved the way for communities such as mine. I am encouraged to see the successes of the Myaamia reawakening efforts, which has led to the implementation of four summer educational experience opportunities for learners of different ages (https://miamination.com/eewansaapita), and the successes of the Wôpanâak Language Reclamation Project, which now operates an immersion school, Weetumuw Katnuhtôhtâkamuq, for children aged three to ten (https://www. wlrp.org/lanuage-immersion). These successes also highlight the fact that is essential for this work to be led by Indigenous communities and grounded in community needs and values. Ultimately, as Indigenous language reclamation practitioners, we do the best we can in this journey, both for our ancestors, who left us an important legacy to care for and nurture, and for the future generations, who will pick up this work and carry it forward.



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References Amery, Rob. 1995. Learning and reviving a language from historical sources. In Nicholas Thieberger (ed.), Paper and talk: A manual for reconstituting materials in Australian Indigenous languages from historical sources, 147–164. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. Amery, Rob. 2000. Warrabarna Kaurna! Reclaiming an Australian Language. Lisse, Netherlands: Swets & Zeitlinger B.V. Anderson, Patricia M. 2020. Revitalization lexicography: The making of the new Tunica dictionary. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Austin, Peter & Terry Crowley. 1995. Interpreting old spelling. In Nicholas Thieberger (ed.), Paper and talk: A manual for reconstituting materials in Australian Indigenous languages from historical sources, 53–102. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press. baird, jessie little doe. 2013. Wampanoag: How did this happen to my language? In Leanne Hinton (ed.), Bringing our languages home, 19–30. Berkeley, CA: Heyday. Baldwin, Daryl, Karen Baldwin, Jessie Baldwin & Jarrid Baldwin. 2013. Miami: myaamiaataweenki oowaaha: MIAMI SPOKEN HERE. In Leanne Hinton (ed.), Bringing our languages home, 3–18. Berkeley, CA: Heyday. Baldwin, Daryl, Leanne Hinton & Gabriela Pérez-Báez. 2018. The Breath of Life Workshops and Institutes. In Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, 188–196. New York: Taylor & Francis. Broadbent, Sylvia M. 1957. Rumsen I: Methods of reconstitution. International Journal of American Linguistics 23(4). 275–280. Browne, Mitchell, Erich Round, Rachael Anderson, Thomas Bott, & Edith Kirlew. 2019. Comparative reconstitution: Using and automating the historical-comparative method to interpret historical language sources [Conference presentation]. Symposium on Historical-Comparative Linguistics for Language Revitalization, University of California, Davis. Cahill, Michael & Keren Rice (eds.). 2014. Developing orthographies for unwritten languages. Dallas, TX: SIL International. Dench, Alan. 2000. In John Charles Smith & Delia Bentley (eds.), Historical linguistics 1995: Selected papers from the 12th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Manchester, August 1995, Volume 1: General Issues and Non-Germanic Languages, 57–72. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Dorais, Louis-Jacques, Megan Lukaniec & Linda Sioui. 2011. Onsäayionnhont de onywawenda’, nous redonnons vie à notre voix: La revitalisation de la langue huronne-wendat. In Lynn Drapeau (ed.), Les langues autochtones du Québec, 107–123. Québec: Les Presses de l’Université du Québec. Fitzgerald, Colleen & Mary S. Linn. 2013. Training communities, training graduate students: The 2012 Oklahoma Breath of Life workshop. Language Documentation and Conservation 7. 185–206. http://hdl. handle.net/10125/4596 Green, Tehota’kerá:tonh Jeremy & Owennatékha Brian Maracle. 2018. The Root-Word Method for building proficient second-language speakers of polysynthetic languages: Onkwawén:na Kentyókhwa adult Mohawk language immersion program. In Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, 146–155. New York: Taylor & Francis. Grenoble, Lenore A. & Lindsay J. Whaley. 2006. Saving Languages: An introduction to language revitalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hinton, Leanne. 2003. How to teach when the teacher isn’t fluent. In Jon Reyhner, Octaviana V. Trujillo, Roberto Luis Carrasco & Louise Lockard (eds.), Nurturing Native languages, 79–92. Flagstaff, AZ: Northern Arizona University. https://jan.ucc.nau.edu/~jar/NNL/NNL_6.pdf Hinton, Leanne, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche. 2018. Introduction: Language revitalization as a growing field of study and practice. In Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, xxi-xxx. New York: Taylor & Francis.

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Hinton, Leanne, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.). 2018. The Routledge handbook of language revitalization. New York: Taylor & Francis. Ignace, Marianne. 2016. First Nations language curriculum building guide. First Nations Education Steering Committee and First Nations Schools Association. http://www.fnesc.ca/wp/wp-content/ uploads/2016/04/614108-FNESC-LANGUAGE-BULDING-CURRICULUM-BOOK-290316-B-F-with-Cover.pdf Johnson, Sʔímlaʔxw Michele K. 2017. Syilx language house: How and why we are delivering 2,000 decolonizing hours in Nsyilxcn. The Canadian Modern Language Review 73(4). 509–537. https://doi. org/10.3138/cmlr.4040 Jones, Mari C. & Damien Mooney (eds.). 2017. Creating orthographies for endangered languages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2008. When is an “extinct language” not extinct?: Miami, a formerly sleeping language. In Kendall A. King et al. (eds.), Sustaining linguistic diversity: Endangered and minority languages and language varieties, 23–33. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2011. Challenging “extinction” through modern Miami language practices. American Indian Culture and Research Journal 35(2). 135–160. https://doi.org/10.17953/aicr.35.2.f3r173r46m261844 Leonard, Wesley Y. 2012. Framing language reclamation programmes for everybody’s empowerment. Gender & Language 6(2). 339–367. doi: 10.1558/genl.v6i2.339 Leonard, Wesley Y. 2017. Producing language reclamation by decolonising ‘language’. In Wesley Y. Leonard & Haley de Korne (eds.), Language Documentation and Description, vol. 14. 15–36. London: EL Publishing. http://www.elpublishing.org/itempage/150 Leonard, Wesley Y. 2018. Reflections on (de)colonialism in language documentation. In Bradley McDonnell, Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker & Gary Holton (eds.), Reflections on language documentation 20 years after Himmelmann 1998, 55–65. (Language Documentation & Conservation, Special Publication no. 15). Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. http://hdl.handle.net/10125/24808 Leonard, Wesley Y. & Erin Haynes. 2010. Making “collaboration” collaborative: An examination of perspectives that frame field research. Language Documentation & Conservation 4. 268–293. http://hdl. handle.net/10125/4482 McIvor, Onowa. 2015. Reviving your language through education: BC First Nations language education planning workbook. First Nations Education Steering Committee and First Nations Schools Association. http:// www.fnsa.ca/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/61415-FNESC-Language-Education-PlanningWB-MARCH16-F-WEB-1.pdf Michelson, Karin & Mercy Doxtator. 2002. Oneida–English/English–Oneida dictionary. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Potier, Pierre. 1751. Radices huronicae. Manuscript. Reproduced in Alexander Fraser (ed.), Huron manuscripts from Rev. Pierre Potier’s collection (Fifteenth Report of the Bureau of Archives for the Province of Ontario), 159–455. Toronto: Clarkson W. James. Rosenblum, Daisy & Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker. 2018. Reflections on language documentation in North America. In Bradley McDonnell, Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker, & Gary Holton (eds.), Reflections on language documentation 20 years after Himmelmann 1998, 340–353. (Language Documentation & Conservation, Special Publication no. 15). Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. http://hdl.handle.net/10125/24834 Sammons, Olivia N. & Wesley Y. Leonard. 2015. Breathing new life into Algonquian languages: Lessons from the Breath of Life Archival Institute for Indigenous languages. In Monica Macaulay & J. Randolph Valentine (eds.), Papers of the Forty-Third Algonquian Conference, 207–224. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Spence, Justin. 2018. Learning languages through archives. In Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, 179–187. New York: Taylor & Francis. Thieberger, Nicholas. 1995. How to decide on a spelling system. In Nicholas Thieberger (ed.), Paper and talk: A manual for reconstituting materials in Australian Indigenous languages from historical sources, 103–119. Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press.



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Warner, Natasha, Quirina Luna & Lynnika Butler. 2007. Ethics and revitalization of dormant languages: The Mutsun language. Language Documentation and Conservation 1(1). 58–76. http://hdl.handle. net/10125/1727 Warner, Natasha, Quirina Geary & Lynnika Butler. 2018. Creating learning materials and teaching materials for language revitalization: The case of Mutsun. In Shannon T. Bischoff & Carmen Jany (eds.), Insights from practices in community-based research: From theory to practice around the globe 212–227. (Trends in Linguistic Studies and Monographs 319). Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. https://doi. org/10.1515/9783110527018-012 Woodbury, Hanni. 2003. Onondaga-English/English-Onondaga dictionary. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

Lorna Wanosts’a7 Williams and Ewa Czaykowska-Higgins

37 Changing notions of fieldwork

Abstract: Samarin (1967: 1), a classic text about linguistic fieldwork in the 20th century, defines fieldwork as ‘primarily a way of obtaining linguistic data and studying linguistic phenomena’. From the perspective represented in Samarin’s text, fieldwork is conducted by linguists for scholarly and academic purposes, involves cooperation between linguist and language speaker(s) (or ‘informant(s)’), and can be characterized as linguist-centred (Rice 2006; Czaykowska-Higgins 2009) in the sense that it involves research on language controlled by the agenda of the linguist. In this paper, we place the practice of fieldwork involving North American languages within the history of colonization, the terrain of Indigenous communities, and the activist landscape of language revitalization and reclamation. From our different positionalities, as academics, as educator and linguist, as Lil’watúl and settler-Canadian individuals, we survey ways in which language fieldwork has changed in North America since 1967, including in relation to collaborative community-based practice, community control, broadening the scope of language work, and re-defining expertise. Community-centred language fieldwork provides for mutuality and benefit in documentation, community goals, and academic interests.

37.1 Introduction In this paper1, we consider the practice of fieldwork2 involving North American languages, focusing in particular on community-based fieldwork practice. Our understanding of fieldwork in North America is informed by our different positionalities, as academics, as educator and linguist, as Lil’watúl and settler-Canadian individuals. Our goal in this paper is to highlight the extent to which fieldwork takes place in very specific contexts in communities and is informed by particular understandings of roles and responsibilities and conceptions of expertise. In North America the contexts within which fieldwork has been practiced by academics and non-academics alike involve

1 Our thanks to two reviewers for very helpful comments, and to the editors for their guidance. 2 In this paper we understand fieldwork very broadly as the process by which language is documented. Samarin (1967: 1; see Rice 2006: 125), the classic Euro-American linguistics textbook about 20th-century linguistic fieldwork, defines fieldwork as ‘primarily a way of obtaining linguistic data and studying linguistic phenomena’. Rosenblum and Berez (2010: 1) define it as “… the study of a language—often not the researchers’ own, and frequently conducted on site where the language is spoken—as a holistic system, operating within interdependent social, cultural, and historical contexts.” See also Bowern 2008, Chelliah and de Reuse 2010 amongst others. Woodbury (2011: 159) defines language documentation as the “creation, annotation, preservation and dissemination of transparent records of a language.” https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-037

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histories of colonization and oppression of Indigenous peoples, as well as Indigenous resistance and resurgence. We begin the paper with our stories, which reflect experiences from the contexts in which we have worked in language communities in British Columbia, Canada. Although British Columbia has its own particular language ecology and history of fieldwork, and although we write from English-dominated parts of North America and provide examples from Canada, our general points about context, expertise, and practice of fieldwork are representative of North America more generally.

37.2 Mapping the terrain Lorna’s story: My experience with community-based research in language work began in my home community as I was given the task of vitalizing our language  – Ucwalmícwts – in our community in 1974. To carry out this task, my community formed a team, including a hired researcher who was a linguistics student from Leiden University, a language speaker who was also studying to be a teacher, an English doctoral student of settler-Canadian heritage, an artist, and an administrative support person who managed our office. Over a 10 year span, we developed curriculum for language learners from early childhood to adult; recorded and documented the language, songs, culture, and traditions; developed an orthography and grammar; prepared a dictionary, phrase and wordlist; developed strategies to include Ucwalmícwts in community and family life; and supported literacy among language learners. I think it was valuable that we were all engaged in university study and connected to higher education institutions in various ways, whether studying in doctoral programs, pursuing a visual arts degree, or studying in an undergraduate teacher education program that included Indigenous language education in partnership with linguistics. This was valuable in understanding the role of research in language work, and also the limitations and rigidity of research at that time. During these years, we adapted both research and teaching and learning models to suit and serve Indigenous language revitalization both in school settings and at home, with family and community. For my doctoral work in a program focused on Collaborative Learning, I applied Participatory Action Research, Phenomenology and Community Based Research to language revitalization within our community. These segments of my life prepared me for my current work in Indigenous language revitalization in a university setting and for my work supporting language communities on every continent at every level of language vitalization, from recovery to active maintenance. Ewa’s story: I am a child of Polish WWII refugees who ended up on xʷməθkʷəy̓əm territory in Canada in the 1960s. My upbringing and schooling, including in linguistics, were in the Euro-American intellectual tradition. In 1981, I went “into the field” to do elicitation with a fluent speaker for an undergraduate project on “Columbian Salish”



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(nxaʔamxčín).3 The language expert had studied in the Native Indian Language Diploma Program (University of Victoria) and knew far more than I did about how to work with a linguistic researcher like me. I later took two graduate field methods courses: the first one focused on elicitation and recording techniques, creation of an analytically-informed record (in the form of file cards stored in shoe-box-like boxes) and production of a grammatical sketch; the second, with Ken Hale, was taught with a fluent speaker of the language, whose theoretical knowledge influenced the materials recorded in class. In the early 1990s, in an extended field trip, an Elder told me she had thought hard about whether to work with me: I had offered to pay an honorarium; she was not comfortable with the idea of “selling” her language. She decided, however, that working with me would allow her to contribute to the construction of a record of her language; she and others I worked with thus instructed me to take responsibility for sharing our work together in ways that would benefit their community. As “the linguist” situated in an academic institution, I decided the focus of our language work, made and kept recordings and fieldnotes, and published scholarship based on “my data”. Ten years later, I worked with a language teacher with deep linguistic understanding different from my generative-theory-informed understanding: we negotiated ways to understand each other’s analyses and this guided our work together. After that, I contributed to research conducted through a formal partnership between university-associated researchers and community organizations; this community-led work focused on the communities’ needs and goals of language revitalization; the documentation it produced was acknowledged as belonging to the community, and was culturally-situated and land-based rather than being primarily focused on questions of structure. Our stories reflect experiences which are not unusual in the respective spheres in which we each first began our language work. Lorna worked as an expert in her community as part of a team that also included non-community participants trained specifically in linguistics who were invited to participate. Ewa’s fieldwork experience, which began with a linguist-centered approach to fieldwork in which an academic linguist entered a community of speakers as the expert and began to ask questions (cf. Czaykowska-Higgins 2009; Rice 2006), has evolved into community-based practice in which she works as part of a language team. In both our stories, our language work has been shaped by the historical context of our work as well as by communities’ goals for their languages.

3 In order to be respectful of the individuals referred to, all of whom have passed away, we do not mention them by name.

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37.2.1 Mapping the terrain of Indigenous communities Indigenous communities throughout the world are diverse and have evolved over time, with devastating effect; in many areas, communities have been affected by colonization and encroachment by settlers from other lands. When non-Indigenous academics seek to do fieldwork in Indigenous communities it is incumbent on them to gain an understanding of the specific historical, social, and economic contexts of the community where research will be conducted. The dynamics of Indigenous communities will also have an impact on the fieldwork of Indigenous researchers. This section will therefore point out some areas to take into consideration when undertaking fieldwork in Indigenous communities. In North America, Indigenous communities have been impacted from a variety of fronts. There are many accounts in history that show how waves of diseases swept through communities along with colonial incursions: smallpox, influenza, tuberculosis, the common cold, cancer and heart disease, to name a few. These diseases caused ruptures in the communities’ cultural and linguistic continuity. Large proportions of populations died or were removed from their communities to be isolated in Indigenous-only hospitals, often far away from their home community, thus further disrupting family communication and knowledge transmission. Another major cause of disruption was obligatory schooling imposed by colonial governments in the form of both residential and day schools. Several generations of children were removed from their families and communities for the school year, disrupting the natural ways that the family and community passed on knowledge for the well being of the family, community and the land. Even when students could attend school in their own villages the intent of schooling was to separate children from the knowledge systems of their families, including their languages, by imposing a western Christian worldview and languages. In Canada, for instance, First Nations were considered wards of the Federal Government, and Indigenous peoples within Canada have thus long been subjected to paternalistic treatment with implications for every aspect of individual and collective, personal and political selfhood. For example, in Canada a 1951 change to a Federal policy known as the Indian Act opened the way for provinces to remove Indigenous children for adoption and fostering outside their communities, creating the phenomenon known as the ‘Sixties Scoop’, which nonetheless continues to this day. By 2016, the number of Indigenous children in care by ministries of Social Services numbered 52.2 % of the total children in care; in the province of Manitoba this number is more than 90 %. Indigenous peoples continue to be over-represented in prisons among youth, male adults, and female adults (Statistics Canada 2016). Every human service agency in Canada has served to disrupt families, communities and Nations by removing individuals from their traditional circles and knowledge systems. This continues to impact the well-being and the survivance of Indigenous languages. The arrival of explorers, settlers, gold miners, corporations and fur trappers since contact has changed the lands of Indigenous peoples. New names from other languages



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were applied to places, new boundaries were established, and governments, anthropologists, archaeologists and linguists asserted names of communities and geographic landmarks. Referring again to Canada, the Federal Indian Act of 1876 defines who can be considered to have ‘status’, and who is registered and has access to and can reside on reserve lands as registered (Status) Indians (Indian Act, RSC 1985)4. If an ‘Indian’ doesn’t meet the requirements set in the Indian Act, they are considered Non-status and cannot reside on reserve lands. Moreover, amendments to the definition of ‘Indian’ have affected status, so that over time people have lost status for reasons such as leaving the reserve without permission from the Indian agent, marrying non-First Nations men, voting, fighting in the wars that Canada participated in, or obtaining a University degree. This mobilization has impacted knowledge systems, family and social structures of Indigenous peoples. Other policies furthered colonial intrusions on cultural practices: in 1880, the MacDonald government in Canada passed an amendment to the Indian Act, the ‘Potlatch Law’, which made it illegal for Indigenous peoples to practice their cultural and spiritual ceremonies (Cole and Chaikin 1990). Indigenous peoples resisted the ban and protected the knowledge and its practitioners, but the practices went underground and became silent. Christian dogma was imposed through educational and governmental institutions in the quest to assimilate and ‘civilize’ Indigenous peoples. These impositions fragmented intergenerational relationships and led to disconnection between people, their land, and the knowledge of their ancestors. Canadian government employees and the general public alike believed that Indigenous languages and cultural knowledge were unworthy of protection and transmission to the next generation. Many Indigenous people came to believe as well that passing on the language and cultural knowledge to their children would do them harm. People became fearful and ashamed to learn and practice Indigenous ways. It is important to remember that even though there are many similarities in community experience across North America, each community nevertheless has a distinct history and has experienced the effects of colonization in particular ways. Therefore, when a person from outside of a community does research in a community, they must take the time to learn, from the people with whom they are working, about this particular history, and about how to do good work that responds appropriately to it. Language workers who are situated in their own communities will also be affected by this history and will find their practice responding to it as well. Given the history of colonization, until recently there have been no institutional protections for the knowledge systems of Indigenous peoples. Academic researchers and representatives from churches and governments took what they wanted and interpreted what they heard, saw and acquired, according to their own world view. They claimed copyright and ownership over collections of data and objects. Today Indigenous

4 See Venne 1981 for the earliest versions of the Indian Act; for the 1985 version of the Act see https:// laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/eng/acts/i-5/.

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communities, as well as academic institutions, have established policies and protocols for research and protections of Indigenous knowledge. In Canada, the First Nations Information Governance Council adopted and published the First Nations Principles of Ownership, Control, Access and Possession (OCAP, cf. Schnarch 2004) which has been further adopted widely to guide research with Indigenous communities. In addition, throughout North America, many Indigenous communities have developed their own protocols and procedures relating to the protection of their knowledge systems, similar to those proposed in OCAP. Many Indigenous peoples share an understanding that their languages come from the land, and their languages contain understandings of the laws that guide every aspect of the peoples’ lives in the universe. These knowledges are contained in vast systems of stories, told and passed from generation to generation. There are many genres of stories: stories that teach people how to behave to look after themselves, the family, the community and the land; stories that describe and share historical events; stories that describe how to conduct ceremonies and community governance. Stories have long been shared in many forms and speech event styles – talk, oration, jokes, songs, dances, art designs, rock paintings, and knots. Some words are confined to certain types of speeches and ceremonies and not used in everyday talk. When languages and language communities are fully vital, stories are organized in such a way that a whole community shares the task of remembering the stories. Stories are told repetitively, and they contain ways to help the memory – repetition, word patterns, mnemonics, metaphors. Those who are working in and with Indigenous language communities must be encouraged to learn and experience languages from the perspective of the Indigenous speech community so they can understand the true importance of these languages to peoples’ sense of well-being, their relationships to each other, and to the land. In North America, then, Indigenous history has included violence and warfare; displacement; and establishment of and control by non-Indigenous systems and institutions. All these forces have resulted in the undermining of Indigenous communities, their cultures, their stories and their languages. Nonetheless, Indigenous peoples have persisted with resilience in resisting the economic and political forces which have affected them; as a consequence, they have prevented their knowledge systems from disappearing and they continue to be the experts in Indigenous language and knowledge systems that contribute to fieldwork study, resulting in research that can be richer and more meaningful when both worldviews are present.

37.2.2 Mapping the (academic) terrain outside Indigenous communities Notions of linguistic fieldwork are inevitably tied to the historical, political and social contexts in which fieldwork takes place and linguistic researchers from outside the communities themselves have not been ignorant of these contexts and realities. Nev-



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ertheless, they have often viewed them through their own intellectual and cultural frames of reference. The knowledge that language loss was occurring amongst Indigenous communities has profoundly influenced the documentation of North American Indigenous languages. Thus, early academic fieldwork on North American languages by scholars like Franz Boas and his successors often took the form of salvage ethnography “… born of the presumptive nostalgia assigned to Native communities imagined to be in the process of disappearing” (Rosenblum and Berez-Kroeker 2018: 341). This kind of fieldwork was heavily influenced by assumptions made within Euro-American colonial academic culture (cf. Errington 2008). From the beginnings of language documentation work in North America, initially often undertaken by missionaries or colonial explorers and, later, by scholars and academic linguists, fieldwork “on” Indigenous languages spoken in North America has been informed by various assumptions: 1) that there is a strong divide between linguist/language researcher and community; 2) that the linguist/ language researcher is an expert (often in a position of intellectual and financial power with respect to the language speakers), while a language speaker “provides” the “data” (cf. Samarin 1967); 3) that the linguist/language researchers should pose research questions and set the agenda, deciding what to record, when and how; 4) that the linguist/ language researcher is a disinterested observer and recorder of facts, rather than a participant in the research context, and can therefore enter and leave a community without regard to consequences for the community; and 5) that the priorities and assumptions of the linguist/language researcher are justifiably privileged over those of the language-speakers (see, for instance, Leonard 2018, Smith 2012 on privileging of Western knowledge in and beyond the academy). Such assumptions have ignored the fact that there have been scholars and language experts in the language communities who have been recording themselves and their languages for decades and who, as suggested above, have been keeping and carrying forward their knowledges, traditions and expertise for their own purposes. Such assumptions also privilege Euro-American notions of knowledge, systems of thought, methods, worldviews and forms of scholarship and ignore the documentation and understanding of their own languages that many communities have undertaken for themselves (Leonard 2018: 57). In keeping with this Euro-American colonially-informed perspective, Linguistics programs in North American universities, which train linguists who work with Indigenous communities and their languages, historically have not done enough to understand and be guided by the ways in which languages and understandings of what language is are connected to the land and are also culture-bound (Leonard 2018). This deficit in understanding affects not only how fieldwork has been practiced, but also its results. Lorna recently learned of a research project recording examples of sentences expressing the notion of ‘wishing’. This notion, represented in Ucwalmícwts for instance by the word g’aw’qsam’ which describes when a person wants/wishes for something to occur, is discouraged in Lorna’s culture because, although thinking of something in the form of a wish can make it occur, people don’t have any control over what form the manifesta-

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tion of the wish would take. This is an example where a linguistic researcher’s training to focus on grammar (similar to that which Ewa received as a student) could lead them inadvertently but significantly to miss the fact that what is being translated and documented would not actually be said in the culture. This example is representative of the concerns and criticisms that Indigenous peoples in North America have been raising for many years about documentation and scholarship undertaken by academically-trained linguists working in their communities.

37.2.3 Mapping the terrain of language (re)vitalization and reclamation In spite of the harm to Indigenous languages and communities that has resulted from forces of colonization, there is also a long and deep history of community resistance to these forces and to the limitations of documentation and scholarship. This resistance specifically includes language maintenance, (re)vitalization and reclamation5. As Hermes, Bang and Marin (2012: 383) point out “… the language revitalization movement is passionate, political, and deeply personal, particularly for many Native people who are acutely aware that the [US] federal government’s attempted genocide was the direct cause of Indigenous language loss”. Arguably, the work of language revitalization may confer protective effects against a host of negative outcomes (economic, educational, health) for communities (Fitzgerald 2017). Lorna’s story provides one example of a community in Canada which began in the 1970s to mobilize youth, elders and other knowledge keepers to document their language and to create programs and materials to support the maintenance and learning of language. The Lil’wat community’s experience has been repeated across Canada, the USA and in Mexico (see, for example Hinton and Meek 2018; Meyer 2018). Although non-Indigenous linguists have been aware of community language revitalization goals and needs, most linguists working in North American communities over the last century have not been trained to contribute to language revitalization efforts, and much of the available funding, until very recently, has prioritized language documentation over revitalization. As a result, and as mentioned above, linguistic fieldwork has tended to focus on documentation of language structures and grammars as opposed to the language of communication, culture and land. More recently, after making the

5 We follow Leonard (2011: 141) in defining language revitalization as “breathing new life into the language” by increasing speakers and domains of use; language reclamation is a larger social process which also (re)claims the “appropriate cultural context and sense of value that the language would likely have always had if not for colonization” (see Lukaniec, this volume for further discussion; Hinton and Meek 2018). The term vitalization refers to “breathing life into the language” but de-emphasizes the implication of loss provided by using the prefix re-. Maintenance refers to the process by which a language is sustained.



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case in a seminal paper in Language that languages around the world are being lost at an unprecedented rate, Hale et al. (1992) argued that there is the need for a responsible linguistics that responds to the needs of communities and that works together with communities to address those needs. In addition, linguists have begun to place their work in the academic context of writings by Indigenous scholars about Indigenous and decolonizing research methods (e.  g., Wilson 2008; Kovach 2009; Smith 2012). Linguists working in North American contexts have increasingly addressed ethical issues in linguistic fieldwork (e.  g., Rice 2006, 2012; Holton 2009; Macri 2010), the role of linguists in language revitalization (e.  g., Benedicto, Modesta and McLean 2002; Speas 2009; Grenoble 2009; Gerdts 2010), and how to work with communities in ways that move beyond a linguist-centred model towards fieldwork practice which is intentionally collaborative (e.  g., Penfield et al. 2008; Czaykowska-Higgins 2009; Leonard and Haynes 2010; Juncker 2018).

37.3 Collaboration: Naming and re-mapping the terrain Collaboration is the art and capacity to work together with another person or in a group, especially in partnerships that bring together stakeholders with diverse worldviews and perspectives and with diverse areas of expertise. For example, to serve Indigenous languages at the University of Victoria with which we are both affiliated, the Linguistics Department and the Department of Indigenous Education work together to support undergraduate and graduate students in Indigenous languages, as well as to support learners and communities in all necessary areas of revitalizing languages. The effort to keep Indigenous languages thriving, to respond to community needs, and to work towards linguistic fieldwork which moves beyond practices dominated by colonial Euro-American assumptions, requires collaborative partnerships at local levels, but also at national and international levels. In addition, collaborative partnerships to support Indigenous languages must be active within Indigenous communities as well as between Indigenous communities and supportive academic institutions and governments. In this section we share some of the crucial lessons we have learned about how to engage in and maintain successful collaboration and partnership. The points raised in this section are based on looking back at collaborations we have been involved in that have included stakeholders of various kinds, including government ministries, a crown agency, a performing arts agency, a museum, and First Nations organizations and communities working on major Indigenous language and arts projects (Williams 2013).

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Dialogues and commitment One of the most important prerequisites for collaboration is dialogue. In our work, we have learned to create multiple opportunities and spaces that are safe for dialogue and conversations. We learned to listen across cultural differences. We learned to reach beyond a habitual colonialist relationship in order to hear one another. We learned how to clarify and explain, staying in dialogue until we reached a point of mutual understanding. We learned to notice resistance as an opportunity to stop, talk and find common ground. Leaders learned how to model their commitment to a vision. We learned to communicate what a vision looks like and how each partner contributes to the vision. Leaders also learned to maintain this commitment as people learned and changed habits of behaviour.

Acting on your own, Acting together A First Nations way of working together is to respect individual expertise and action. In this model of collaboration, each individual knows and contributes the best way they can to help the group work together to achieve the common goal. We have been involved in cases where each partner contributed changes required to support languages and used the information, learning and new understanding from dialogues to inform their decisions. Each partner needed to trust the other(s) to carry out necessary changes within their own organization and in their own practice in order to move together in the direction of change.

Learning to talk, Learning to listen, Learning to push, Learning to hold still When people are coming together where there has been an adversarial relationship and where some groups or stakeholders have higher status, power, and greater resources, this sets the tone for dialogue. In addition, participants come into the work with different assumptions; for example, academic researchers are encouraged not to get personal in the research community, whereas, in Indigenous communities, the personal is often an important contributor to building a research relationship. In our collaborative work, individuals learned to reflect on and monitor their positionalities and thus their behavior. We learned to build time in, to allow those who have been silenced to voice and express all that has been silenced in the past. We learned to create a safe container for the expression of anger and frustration of disempowerment, to allow everyone to be heard and listened to without fear of retaliation. All participants needed to know that there are learning opportunities for everyone.



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Cultural interpreters and mediators When the relationship has been either non-existent or contentious, it is helpful to have additional support for cultural mediation to support a partnership in learning a new way of communicating. We found that it was critical for us to have at least two people from within the group involved in partnership building who were able to communicate from different worldviews, interpret misunderstandings to each other, and then communicate and mediate their new understandings to the broader group.

Learning together is key Learning together is the foundation of any partnership. Relationships can grow stronger through forging new understandings, finding points of alignment and points of disagreement. Acting on new understandings by modifying practices, policy interpretations, and programs to better support language revitalization continues to foster trust and commitment.

37.4 Thinking the terrain: Describing challenges and possibilities Linguistic fieldwork sometimes involves multiple stakeholders and sometimes involves only two people. Regardless, if it is to be responsive to the context within which it takes place, then it will benefit from an understanding of what collaboration is and of the kinds of factors discussed above that our experience shows contribute to successful collaboration. Even with a basic understanding of factors in successful collaboration, trying to conceptualize and practice fieldwork as collaborative and responsive nevertheless raises many questions about exactly how it can be carried out in a good way, and about the roles, rights, and responsibilities of those who participate in it. In our view, perhaps the most important challenge in creating the spaces for dialogue that lead to considerations of roles, rights and responsibilities in fieldwork practice is the building of relationships within the research environment. Relationships which respect difference, reflect a responsibility to all participants as well as to the language material which is documented, and are reciprocal in nature, taking mutual benefit into consideration (cf. Kirkness and Barnhardt 2001), allow fieldwork research to be conducted in a good way. The need to be aware of, nurture, and be accountable to relationships is one of the foundations of Indigenous research methodologies (e.  g., Wilson 2008; Kovach 2009) and is therefore a step towards building upon and expanding Euro-American scientific approaches by Indigenizing ways in which fieldwork is carried out. Being accountable in relationships allows those involved in fieldwork research to

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pay attention to power dynamics and to cultural expectations and to practice culturally appropriate behaviour. It also requires those involved in the fieldwork to consider who decides what will be documented and how, who will carry out the documentation, where it is stored and archived, who has access, who has control, who has possession, who has copyright, whether copyright is sufficient, and who is credited (cf. Newman 2012; Rice 2012; Dorian 2010; Warner, Luna and Butler 2007; O’Meara and Good 2010). Accountability to relationships also requires researchers to consider how to get permission and consent for fieldwork research, who to ask, when and how; for university-based researchers in particular, it is necessary to learn how to work with Ethics Boards and Institutional Research Boards to satisfy institutional expectations which may not be appropriate in community contexts. Finally, accountability to relationships allows for the recognition that there are many different forms of expertise and that in a research situation the roles and expertise of all those involved in the research are valued, valuable and critical to its success. Undertaking linguistic fieldwork in ways which are responsive to historical and social contexts may result in resources and products which are not the kinds of products that have been valued in the past in academic institutions: the process of building relationships or the production of language teaching videos for instance may not be viewed as sufficiently rigorous academic products. Those conducting linguistic fieldwork in North American Indigenous communities from within academic positions may therefore also need to advocate for the value of the documentation and research products that result from fieldwork responsive to community goals (Smith 2012; Benedicto 2018), that value different worldviews (Littlebear 2000; Battiste and Henderson 2009), complex understandings of what language is, differing scientific approaches to language (Leonard 2017, 2018), and that follow the lead of Indigenous researchers who are rethinking notions of what language documentation is, who it is for and what its purpose is (e.  g., Rosborough, Rorick and Urbanczyk 2017). As Rice (2011: 196) suggests, community-based research can lead to a deep understanding of language, to addressing new linguistic questions, and to better linguistic work.

37.5 Building a new path: Walking the terrain together For many Indigenous peoples in North America and beyond, the relationship between language and land is profound: language comes from the land, names the land, embodies ties to the land. We have used the metaphor of land or terrain in this paper both to reflect this profound relationship between language and land and to allow us to map out the different but overlapping terrains within which linguistic fieldwork has taken place historically in North America.



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As we have tried to suggest, the development of collaborative, community-based practice in fieldwork is one important response to the historical, social and cultural contexts within which fieldwork takes place, and such practice is becoming more common in linguistic work in North America (see, for example, Linn, Berardo and Yamamoto 1998; Sutton 2010; Cruz and Woodbury 2014; Fitzgerald and Hinson 2016; Juncker 2018; Langley, Langley, Martin and Hasselbacher 2018). Responsible, reciprocal, collaborative fieldwork practice takes time to develop not least because the terrains on which it takes place are complex, changeable, and contingent. In settler-colonial contexts such as those found in North America, participants in linguistic fieldwork must learn to be aware of how social positioning can perpetuate or disrupt colonial apparatus, and must also contend with the complexities of such factors as white guilt, paternalistic dominance, and the effects of these on research relationships (Land 2015). Ultimately there is no single path along which participants in linguistic fieldwork can walk the terrain together to work collaboratively. We have suggested above some considerations from our own collaborative work. Eira (2008) points out other areas to take into account when establishing a collaborative partnership. First, in negotiation it is necessary to consider that writing (speaking, analysis, etc.) will be in two or more forms: the linguistic register and the language of use in the community. Second, they point out that collaborative work must respect both university and community linguistic analysis. Third, they emphasize the need for equity in involvement in all aspects of the project. And, finally, they point out the need to acknowledge everyone’s engagement in a research project. In the context of North American Indigenous communities, linguistic research requires working across and within both Indigenous and Euro-American ways of knowing and being, constructing a third, ethical space which opens up possibilities for exploration and learning (cf. Stebbins 2012; Ermine 2007). It takes courage and patience to keep and maintain open lines of dialogue and communication in this space to make collaborations and research partnerships work.

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Grenoble, Lenore. 2009. Linguistic cages and the limits of linguists. In Reyhner, John & Louise Lockard (eds.), Indigenous language revitalization: Encouragement, guidance and lessons learned, 61–69. Flagstaff, AZ: Northern Arizona University, College of Education. Hale, Ken, Michael Krauss, Lucille Watahomigie, Akira Yamamoto, Colette Craig, LaVerne Jeanne & Nora England. 1992. Endangered languages. Language 68(1). 1–42. Heaton, Raina & Igor Xoyon. 2018. Collaborative research and assessment in Kaqchikel. In Shannon Bischoff & Carmen Jany (eds.), Insights from practices in community-based research: From theory to practice around the globe. Trends in Linguistics. Studies and Monographs 319, 228–245. Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Hermes, Mary, Megan Bang & Amanda Marin. 2012. Designing Indigenous language revitalization. Harvard educational review 82(3). 381–402. Hinton, Leanne & Barbra Meek. 2018. Language revitalization in Indigenous North America. In Hinton, Leanne, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds). The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, 375–383. New York/Oxon: Taylor and Francis. Holton, G. 2009. Relatively ethical: A comparison of linguistic research paradigms in Alaska and Indonesia. Language documentation and conservation 3(2). 161–175. Indian Act. R.S.C. 1985. c1-5. https://laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/eng/acts/i-5/. Government of Canada. (accessed 20 July 2020). Kirkness, Verna. J. & Ray Barnhardt. 2001. First Nations and Higher Education: The Four R’s Respect, Relevance, Reciprocity, Responsibility. In Ruth Hayoe & Julia Pan (eds.), Knowledge Across Cultures: A contribution to dialogue among civilizations. Hong Kong: Comparative Education Research Centre, The University of Hong Kong. Junker, Marie-Odile. 2018. Participatory action research for Indigenous linguistics in the digital age. In Shannon Bischoff & Carmen Jany (eds.), Insights from practices in community-based research: From theory to practice around the globe. Trends in Linguistics. Studies and Monographs 319, 164–175. Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Kovach, Margaret. 2009. Indigenous methodologies: Characteristics, conversations, and contexts. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Land, Clare. 2015. Decolonizing solidarity: Dilemmas and directions for supporters of Indigenous struggles. London, UK: Zed Books. Langley, Bertney, Linda Langley, Jack B. Martin & Stephanie Hassebacher. 2018. The Koasati Language Project: A collaborative, community-based language documentation and revitalization model. In Shannon Bischoff & Carmen Jany (eds.), Insights from practices in community-based research: From theory to practice around the globe. Trends in Linguistics. Studies and Monographs 319, 132–150. Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2011. Challenging “extinction” through modern Miami language practices. American Indian culture and research journal 35(2). 135–160. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2017. Producing language reclamation by decolonising ‘language’. In Wesley Y. Leonard & Haley de Korne (eds.), Language documentation and description 14. 15–36. London: EL Publishing. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2018. Reflections on (de)colonialism in language documentation. In Bradley McDonnell, Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker & Gary Holton (eds.), Reflections on language documentation 20 years after Himmelmann 1998, 55–65. (Language documentation and conservation special publication No. 15). Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Leonard, Wesley Y. & Erin Haynes. 2010. Making “collaboration” collaborative: An examination of perspectives that frame linguistic field research. Language documentation and conservation 4. 268–293. Lightning, W. 1992. Compassionate mind: Implications of a text written by Elder Louis Sunchild. Canadian journal of Native education 19. 215–253. Linn, Mary, M. Berardo & Akira Yamamoto. 1998. Creating language teams in Oklahoma Native American communities. International journal of the sociology of language 132. 61–78.

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Little Bear, Leroy. 2000. Jagged Worlds Colliding. In Marie Battiste (ed.) Reclaiming Indigenous voice and vision, 77–85. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press. Little Bear, L. 2012. Traditional knowledge and Humanities: A perspective by a Blackfoot. Journal of Chinese philosophy 39(4). 518–527. Lukaniec, Megan. this volume. Using archival materials for language reclamation. Macri, Martha. 2010. Language documentation: Whose ethics?. In Lenore A. Grenoble & N. Louanna Furbee (eds.), Language documentation: Practice and values, 37–49. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Co. Meyer, Lois M. 2018. “Carrying on the word that I know”: Teacher-Community Language Revitalization Collaborations in Indigenous Oaxaca, Mexico. In Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, 384–393. New York/Oxon: Taylor and Francis. Newman, Paul. 2012. Copyright and other legal concerns. In Nicholas Thieberger (ed.), Oxford handbook of linguistic fieldwork, 430–456. Oxford: Oxford University Press. O’Meara, Carolyn & Jeff Good. 2010. Ethical issues in legacy language resources. Language and communication 30. 162–170. Penfield, Susan, Angelina Serratos, Benjamin V. Tucker, Amelia Flores, Gilford Harper, Jonny Hill, Jr. & Nora Vasquez. 2008. Community collaborations: Best practices for North American Indigenous language documentation. International journal of the sociology of language 191. 187–202. Rice, Keren. 2006. Ethical issues in linguistic fieldwork: An overview. Journal of academic ethics 4. 123–155. Rice, Keren. 2010. The linguist’s responsibilities to the community of speakers: Community-based research. In Lenore A. Grenoble & N. Louanna Furbee (eds.), Language documentation: Practice and values, 25–36. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Co. Rice, Keren. 2011. Documentary linguistics and community relations. Language documentation and conservation 5. 187–207. Rice, Keren. 2012. Ethical issues in linguistic fieldwork. In Nicholas Thieberger (ed.), Oxford handbook of linguistic fieldwork, 407–429. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rice, Keren. 2018. Collaborative research: Visions and realities. In Shannon Bischoff & Carmen Jany (eds.), Insights from practices in community-based research: From theory to practice around the globe, 13–37. (Trends in Linguistics. Studies and Monographs 319). Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Robinson, Laura & James Crippen. 2015. Collaboration: A reply to Bowern and Warner’s reply. Language documentation and conservation 9. 86–88. Rosborough, Trish, chuutsqa Layla Rorick & Suzanne Urbanczyk. 2017. Beautiful words: Enriching and Indigenizing Kwak’wala revitalization through understandings of linguistic structure. The Canadian modern language review/ La revue canadienne des langues vivantes. 73. 425–437. Rosenblum, Daisy & Andrea L. Berez. 2010. Introduction: The Boasian tradition and contemporary practice in linguistic fieldwork in the Americas. In Andrea L. Berez, Jean Mulder & Daisy Rosenblum (eds.), Fieldwork and linguistic analysis in Indigenous languages of the Americas,1–8. (Language documentation and conservation special publication 2). Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Rosenblum, Daisy & Andrea Berez-Kroeker. 2018. Reflections on language documentation in North America. In Bradley McDonnell, Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker & Gary Holton (eds.), Reflections on language documentation 20 years after Himmelmann 1998, 340–353. (Language documentation and conservation special publication 15). Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Samarin, William. 1967. Field linguistics. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Schnarch, B. 2004. Ownership, control, access, and possession (OCAP) or self-determination applied to research: A critical analysis of contemporary First Nations research and some options for First Nations communities. Journal of Aboriginal health 1(1). 80–95. Smith, Linda T. 2012. Decolonizing methodologies: Research and Indigenous peoples. 2nd edn. London, UK: Zed Books.



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Speas, Margaret. 2009. Someone else’s language: On the role of linguists in language revitalization. In John Reyhner & Louise Lockard (eds.), Indigenous language revitalization: Encouragement, guidance and lessons learned, 22–36. Flagstaff, AZ: Northern Arizona University. Statistics Canada. 2016. https://www.canada.ca/en/indigenous-services-canada/news/2018/01/media_brief_ backgrounderchildfamilyservices.html. (accessed 20 July 2020). Stebbins, Tonya. 2012. On being a linguist and doing linguistics: Negotiating ideology through performativity. Language documentation and conservation 6. 292–317. Sutton, Logan. 2010. Noun class and number in Kiowa-Tanoan: Comparative-historical research and respecting speakers’ rights in fieldwork In Andrea L. Berez, Jean Mulder & Daisy Rosenblum (eds.), Fieldwork and linguistic analysis in Indigenous languages of the Americas, 57–90. (Language documentation and conservation special publication 2). Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Venne, Sharon H. 1981. The Indian Act and Amendments 1866–1975 – an indexed collection. Saskatoon, Sask: Saskatoon Law Centre. Warner, Natasha, Quirina Luna & Lynnika Butler. 2007. Ethics and revitalization of dormant languages: The Mutsun language. Language documentation and conservation 1(1). 58–76. Williams, L. 2013. Nuk’wantwal’ – Collaborative and Community-centered approaches to language vitalization from an Indigenous perspective. Endangered Languages beyond boundaries: Community connections, collaborative approaches and cross-disciplinary research/Langues en péril au-delà des frontières: Connexions communautaires, approches collaboratives, et recherche interdisciplinaire: Proceedings of the 17th Foundation for Endangered Languages Conference, 11-14. Carleton University. Wilson, Shawn. 2008. Research is ceremony: Indigenous research methods. Halifax/Winnipeg: Fernwood Publishing. Woodbury, Anthony C. 2011. Language documentation. In Peter K. Austin & Julia Sallabank (eds.), The Cambridge handbook of endangered languages, 159–186. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Yamada, Racquel-Maria. 2007. Collaborative linguistic fieldwork: Practical application of the empowerment model. Language documentation and conservation 1(2). 257–282. Zepeda, Ofelia & Jane Hill. 1998. Collaborative sociolinguistic research among the Tohono O’odham. Oral tradition 13(1). 130–156.

VIII Language families and isolates

Richard Compton

38 Inuit-Yupik-Unangan: An overview of the language family Abstract: The Inuit-Yupik-Unangan language family, more commonly known as the Eskimo-Aleut or Eskaleut language family, encompasses approximately seven languages spoken in the North American Arctic and on the Chuckchi Peninsula in north-eastern Siberia: Unangam Tunuu (Aleut), Sirenikski, Central Siberian Yupik, Naukanski Siberian Yupik, Central Alaskan Yup’ik, Alutiiq Alaskan Yupik, and Inuit (Inuktut). The latter language is known by many names—Iñupiaq, Sallirmiutun (formerly Siglitun), Inuinnaqtun, Inuktitut, Inuttitut, Kalaallisut (Greenlandic), etc.—each representing a portion of a geographically extensive dialect continuum stretching from Alaska to Greenland. This chapter gives an overview of the inventories of phonemes found in these languages, common phonological processes, the set of lexical categories, and synopses of such phenomena as polysynthesis, noun incorporation, and rich agreement. The chapter also outlines the various writing systems used by speakers of these languages, including Roman orthographies and Inuktitut Syllabics. Finally, some of the challenges for transmitting these languages and an overview of efforts to develop resources are presented.

38.1 Introduction The Inuit-Yupik-Unangan language family encompasses languages spoken on the Chuckchi Peninsula in northeastern Siberia, and across the North-American Arctic— from the Aleutian Islands and coastal areas of Alaska, across the Northwest Territories, Nunavut, Nunavik (in northern Quebec), and Nunatsiavut (in northern Labrador) in Canada, to the coasts of Greenland. For reasons that will be discussed below, I have not used the more commonly known name for the family: Eskimo-Aleut. The two halves of this name pick out the family’s two main branches: Unangam Tunuu (Aleut), a single language spoken by the Unangax̂ people in the Aleutian Islands, and Inuit-Yupik (Eskimo), which includes both Yupik languages and the Inuit language. Yupik languages are spoken in Siberia and Alaska, while varieties of the Inuit language are spoken from Alaska to Greenland. The macro-structure of the family is represented in Figure 1. As noted by Fortescue et al. (2010, p. x), the status of Sirenik is not entirely clear and it may in fact constitute “a third subbranch of Eskimo, along with Yupik and Inuit”. I follow their classification in grouping it with the Yupik branch. Although the exonyms ‘Eskimo’ and ‘Aleut’ are still found in the academic literature to refer to the two main branches of this language family, their usage is now rejected by many Inuit, Yupiit and Unangan to refer to their languages and people. In particuhttps://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-038

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Inuit-YupikUnangan Unangam Tunuu (Aleut)

Inuit-Yupik (Eskimo) Yupik Sirenik(ski)†

Central Siberian Yupik

Naukan(ski) Siberian Yupik

Inuit (Inuktut) Central Alaskan Yup’ik

Alutiiq Alaskan Yupik

Fig. 1: Inuit-Yupik-Unangan language family

lar, the former term is increasingly considered to be unacceptable, pejorative, or even racist. It is no longer used by Inuit or governments in Canada and Greenland. Instead, local terms for languages are typically employed and new terms have been adopted.1 Its use continues to be common in Alaska to refer to Inuit and Yupiit collectively (Kaplan, 2020), however, even in the United States, there is a move away from its use.2 Given their prevalence in the literature, they are included herein for clarity, as well as in some quotations. While each of the languages (perhaps with the exception of the now-extinct Sirenik) can be divided into dialects and subdialects (see, e.g., Fortescue et al. 2010; Dorais 2017), given the wide geographic area covered by the Inuit language—spanning the North American Arctic—and the existence and widespread use of different names for local varieties in each country, Inuit dialect groups are outlined in Figure 2 (adapted from Yuan 2018, Hayashi 2011, and Dorais 2017).3 In terms of numbers of speakers, beginning with the Inuit language, Greenlandic varieties are spoken by approximately 50,000 of the 57,000 residents in Greenland (Thomsen, 2013), with Dorais (2010, 236) estimating a total of 61,932 speakers if those residing in Denmark are included. Compared to other Inuit varieties, Greenlandic is arguably the most stable. Dorais (2017) notes that Central West Greenlandic has been “used as medium of instruction over the last 270 years” and it is currently Greenland’s sole official language, co-existing with Tunumiisut (East Greenlandic) and Inuktun (formerly ‘Polar Eskimo’) dialects. 1 For instance, the term ‘Inuktut’ has been adopted by Inuit Uqausinginnik Taiguusiliuqtiit (Nunavut’s language authority) as a cover term for the Inuit language in Canada. 2 For example, NASA announced in August 2020 that they “will no longer refer to planetary nebula NGC 2392 […] as the ‘Eskimo Nebula’,” characterizing the word as a “colonial term with a racist history” (https://www.nasa.gov/feature/nasa-to-reexamine-nicknames-for-cosmic-objects). 3 I follow Dorais (2003, 2017) and Briggs et al. (2015) in including Natsilingmiutut (and the closely related Utkuhiksalingmiutut) among Western dialects.



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Alaskan Iñupiaq

Seward

Western Canadian Inuktun

Sallirmiutun (Siglitun)

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North Alaskan Iñupiaq

Inuinnaqtun Natsilingmiutut

Inuit

Kivalliq

Eastern Canadian Inuktitut

Baffin Nunavik Nunatsiavut

Greenlandic Kalaallisut

Inuktun (Polar) Greenlandic

Fig. 2: Dialect groups and subgroups of the Inuit language

In the 2016 Canadian Census (Statistics Canada, 2017) 42,980 out of 65,030 self-identified Inuit report being able to speak a variety of the Inuit language well enough to have a conversation. Table 1 presents the number of Inuit in Canadian territories and provinces overlapping their traditional homeland (Inuit Nunangat) who can have a conversation in the Inuit language, have it as their first language, or for whom it is their primary language at home. Tab. 1: Inuit language speakers in Canada (Statistics Canada, 2017)  

Inuit

Can converse

First language

Primary home

NWT Nunavut Quebec Labrador Canada

4,075 30,135 13,940 4,765 65,030

900 27,320 12,595 605 42,980

600 22,600 11,970 425 37,260

70 17,735 11,375 105 29,490

While the Canadian census does not provide a particularly refined breakdown of dialects or dialect groups, it does distinguish between Inuktitut and Inuinnaqtun/Inuvialuktun, as well as reporting a category of other Inuit language responses (presumably manually entered names for individual dialects). As can be inferred from Table 2, Inuinnaqtun and Inuvialuktun (likely including responses for both Sallirmiutun and Uummarmiutun), spoken in the Northwest Territories and nearby communities in western Nunavut, have experienced more language shift and have fewer speakers. Generally speaking, the varieties spoken in Labrador and the western Arctic are experiencing the

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greatest language shift. Most speakers in these regions are older adults. Lowe (1985b, x) largely attributes the advanced language shift in the Northwest Territories to Canadian education policies as far back as the 1920s, particularly the sad legacy of residential schools, in which children were “forbidden to speak their language and were punished if caught doing so”. In comparison, Nunavik (Quebec) and Eastern Nunavut (particularly the Baffin region) have greater language retention and children in these regions continue to acquire Inuktitut as their first language. Though not official languages in Canada, both Inuktitut and Inuinnaqtun have official status in Nunavut, alongside English in French. Nunavut and Nunavik offer varying levels of primary and secondary education in Inuktitut. Tab. 2: Inuktitut and Inuinnaqtun/Inuvialuktun speakers (Statistics Canada, 2017)  

Inuktitut

Inuinnaqtun/Inuvialuktun

Other response

NWT Nunavut

110 22070

470 495

20 30

For Alaskan languages “spoken at home” in the United States, the U.S. Census Bureau reports the numbers of speaker older than 5 years old in Table 3, with some of the equivalent terms used herein added in brackets. Tab. 3: Languages Spoken at Home (U.S. Census Bureau, 2015) Survey Option

Speakers

Speak English less than “very well”

Aleut Pacific Gulf Yupik [=Alutiiq] Eskimo Inupik [=Inupiaq] St. Lawrence Island Yupik [=Siberian Yupik] Yupik [=Central Alaskan Yupik(?)]

995 70 1,270 6,740 1,070 19,750

170 –  265 1,365 285 5,930

Unfortunately, the categories used include “Eskimo”, which is ambiguous between Inuit and Yupik languages. Similarly, the “Yupik” option, though presumably designating Central Alaskan Yupik, might unfortunately have been interpreted as a hypernym for the two other Yupik language options.4

4 These numbers differ from those presented in Larson et al. (2014), who state that out of 16,000 Alaskan Inupiat, there are an estimated 2,000 speakers. Similarly for Yupik, Larsen et al. (2010, 99) report 10,400



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According to Miyaoka (2012), there are no longer any known monolingual adult speakers of Central Alaskan Yupik. He attributes this language shift, at least in part, to the introduction of bilingual education in the 1970s. However, he notes that “there are some preschool children, particularly (or perhaps only) in outlying villages, who are first raised solely in the traditional language” (Miyaoka, 2012, 6). In addition to the Siberian Yupik speakers on St. Lawrence Island in Alaska, there are a smaller number of speakers in Chukotka in Russia (Fortescue et al., 2010). For Naukan(ski) Yupik, Jacobson (2006, 150) reports “no more than 50 speakers living mostly in Lavrentiya in Siberia but whose original home is the village of Naukan at East Cape, Siberia”. Finally, for Unangam Tunuu, Berge (in prep) reports “fewer than 50 fluent speakers, all elderly”.

38.2 Typological features Inuit-Yupik-Unangan languages are perhaps best known among linguists for the high degree of polysynthesis that they exhibit: the tendency to have longer, more complex words, that often correspond to multi-word sentences in other languages. While Unangam Tunuu is somewhat less polysynthetic than the other languages in the family,5 Inuit and Yupik languages employ relatively few phonologically free function words and instead create complex words using suffixes and enclitics. The existence of noun-incorporating verbs, verb-incorporating verbs, suffixes with adjectival and adverbial meanings, and rich agreement all contribute to the polysynthetic nature of these languages, as illustrated in the examples in (1) from Inuktitut, (2) from Central Siberian Yupik, and (3) from Unangam Tunuu. (1)            

igluminiinginnarlutiujunnaqpalauqsimagaluarmata iglu -mini -it -innaq -lutik -u -junnaq house -3.poss.ss.loc -be.in -only -cont.3pl -cop -can -vak -lauq -sima -galuaq -mata -often -dist.past -perf -indeed -cntg.3pl ‘They could (in the distant past) indeed be (habitually) entirely in their own houses.’ (Eastern Canadian Inuktitut, Mallon, 1999, 10–15, adapted)

speakers of Central Alaskan Yupik out of a population of 25,000; 200 Alutiiq speakers out of a population of 3,500; and 1,300 speakers of Siberian Yupik out of 2,300 people. In addition, they estimate 150 speakers of Unangam Tunuu out of a population of 2,300. 5 Bergsland (1997, 355) states that “derivational suffixes, postbases, are much more numerous and combine much more extensively in Eskimo than in Aleut.”

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(2)          

igamsiqayugvikumanginaghyaghqaqsaghaghpesikut (…) igamsiqayug -vike -(i/u)manginagh feel.thankful -have.an.object.of.one’s.V -V.continuously -yaghqaqe -yagh -aghpesikut -be.supposed.to.V -V.in.vain -ind(2s-1pl) ‘you are supposed to thank us continuously, but…’ (Central Siberian Yupik, de Reuse, 1994, 83)

(3)      

kuri -za -qada -naaĝi -itu -udahli -lakaq smoke -hab -quit -try.to -want.to -even -1s.neg.pres. ‘I don’t even want to try to quit smoking.’ (Unangam Tunuu, Bergsland 1997, 106, adapted using glosses in Fortescue 2017, 224)

These languages exhibit both head and dependent marking. For instance, the grammatical function of arguments is indicated both by case markers and by agreement markers on verbs, as in the Inuinnaqtun examples in (4). Similarly, in possessive constructions, the possession relationship is indicated both by ergative (=genitive) case marking on the possessor, as well as possessor agreement on the possessed noun, as shown in (5), also from Inuinnaqtun. (4)            

Head and dependent marking of grammatical relations a. nutaqqa-t tammaq-ta-an   child\erg-erg.pl lose-decl.tr-3pl.3sg   ‘the children lost it’ (Lowe, 1985a, 59). b. iqaluk qinmi-m niri-ya-a   fish(abs.sg) dog-erg.sg eat-decl.tr-3sg.3sg   ‘the dog ate the fish’ (Lowe, 1985a, 114)

(5)      

Head and dependent marking of possession a. qinmi-m pamiu-nga   dog-erg.sg tail-3sg.poss.sg   ‘the tail of the dog’ (Lowe, 1985a, 93) b. aappang-ma akuvrua-nga   father-erg.1sg.poss shirt-3sg.poss.sg   ‘my father’s shirt’ (Lowe, 1985a, 93)

     

Given the high degree of polysynthesis, combined with variation in word order, it is difficult to posit a basic order of heads and complements. While there is evidence of post-verbal auxiliaries, Subject-Object-Verb (SOV) word order, and at least one post-position in Unangam Tunuu, suggesting a head-final structure, other languages lack these



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features. For instance, Inuktitut lacks adpositions and phonologically free auxiliaries and exhibits both OV and VO orders.

38.3 Sound systems 38.3.1 Consonants The sound systems of Inuit and Yupik languages preserve the essential character of the reconstructed Proto-Inuit-Yupik consonant inventory, given in Table 4, with various additions, mergers, and shifts. Tab. 4: Proto-Inuit-Yupik consonant inventory (adapted from Fortescue et al. 2010, xi)  

labial

alveolar

(alveo)palatal

velar

uvular

stop fricative lateral nasal

p  v    m 

t  ð  l,ɬ n 

ʧ  j     

k  ɣ    ŋ 

q  ʁ     

This reconstructed inventory posits four manners of articulation: stop, fricative, lateral, and nasal; and five places of articulation: labial, alveolar, (alveo)palatal, velar, and uvular. Fortescue et al. (2010) note that the main differences between Proto-Inuit-Yupik and Proto-Inuit-Yupik-Unangan reconstructions would be the addition of distinctions between *t1 and *t2 and between *ʧ1 and *ʧ2, suggesting a similar inventory to the one presented in Table 4.6 For the most part, the consonant inventories in Inuit dialects resemble the Proto-Inuit-Yupik inventory, with *ʧ typically becoming /s/ (or more recently /h/ in some dialects, particularly in Western Canada), *ð becoming a new consonant or merging with /j/, and some varieties losing the voicing distinction among laterals. In addition, some Inuit dialects in Nunavik and Nunatsiavut are in the process of merging velar and uvular consonants, particularly /ɣ/ and /ʁ/.7 In comparison to Inuit, Yupik languages have grown their inventories. Central Alaskan Yupik, for instance, has added voiceless variants of fricatives and nasals, the

6 The table in Fortescue et al. (2010) lacks the labels for manner and place. Based on their discussion, the symbol has been replaced with and with . 7 Nunavik speakers often report uncertainly as to whether a word contains /ɣ/ or /ʁ/, yielding such examples as takurit for see.imper.2sg ‘(you) see!’ instead of the expected takugit.

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approximant /w/, and labialized versions of back fricatives, although some of these may be analyzable as allophones, as illustrated in Table 5.8 Tab. 5: Central Alaskan Yupik consonant inventory (adapted from Miyaoka 2012, 46)  

labial

alveolar

alveopalatal

velar

uvular

stop fricative   approximant nasal  

p  f  v  w  m̥ m 

t  ɬ  l    (n̥) n 

ʧ  s  z  j     

k  x, (xw) ɣ, (ɣw)   (ŋ̥) ŋ 

q  χ, (χw) ʁ, (ʁw)      

Finally, Unangam Tunuu has the most extensive inventory, having added voicing contrasts to nasals and approximants, as well as a glottal fricative, but also having lost both stop and fricative labials (except in loanwords, not shown), as outlined in Table 6.9 Tab. 6: Unangam Tunuu consonant inventory (adapted from Bergsland 1997, 16)  

labial

alveolar

palatal

velar

uvular

glottal

stop fricative   nasal   approximant  

      m̥ m  ʍ  w 

t  θ  ð  n̥ n  ɬ  l 

ʧ  ∫  ʒ      j̊ j 

k  x  ɣ  ŋ̊ ŋ     

q  χ  ʁ         

          h   

Despite these differences, several properties that languages of the family nevertheless generally share include the presence of a uvular series of consonants, the lack of a (pure) voicing contrast among (oral) stops, and the presence of voiced fricative counterparts of the voiceless oral stops. Looking across the language family, there are considerable differences in phonotactic constraints. At one extreme, Unangam Tunuu exhibits a variety of heterorganic con8 While Miyaoka (2012) refers to “back velars”, I have used the term “uvular”. Similarly, I replace the symbol with ʧ based on his discussion. Given that the voiced lateral is categorized as a fricative, the symbol might also be better represented by . Miyaoka’s distinction between “the ‘phonological’ (underlying or morphonemic) and the ‘phonemic’ (surface)” (p.36) levels of representations is taken here to correspond to the phoneme-allophone distinction. 9 The consonant inventory of the Attuan dialect, also provided in Bergsland (1997), is smaller and more similar to Inuit-Yupik languages, lacking voiceless versions of fricatives, nasals, and approximants.



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sonant clusters (sounds made at different places in the vocal tract), both word-initially, such as chx /ʧx/ in (6-a), and across syllable boundaries, for instance xs as in (6-b), but lacks the geminate consonants found elsewhere in the family. (6)            

Heterorganic clusters in Unangam Tunuu a. chxalix   /ʧxalix/   ‘to steal’ b. slaxsix   ‘to be wide’   (Bergsland, 1997, 23–24)

Central Alaskan Yupik lacks the initial clusters found in Unangam Tunuu (except in borrowings) and allows geminates, but maintains a wide variety of heterorganic clusters across syllable boundaries.10 (7)              

Geminates in Central Alaskan Yupik a. ak’a   /àkka/   ‘already’ b. mill’uni   /mìɬɬuni/   ‘it (bird, airplane) landing’   (Miyaoka, 2012, 76)

(8)            

Heterorganic clusters in Central Alaskan Yupik a. qul’ssurtuq   /qulsuχtuq/   ‘it costs ten dollars’ b. nav’ggu   /navxu/   ‘(you[sg.]) break it!’ (Miyaoka, 2012, 58)

Within the Inuit language, phonotactic restrictions become increasingly strict moving eastward, such that most clusters that are permissible in Western and Central varieties undergo assimilation to become geminates in Labrador and West Greenlandic varieties, as shown in the following examples of regressive place assimilation.

10 In the Central Alaskan Yupik orthography, the double is used to indicate voicelessness (as is used to represent the voiced fricative) and the apostrophe is used here to indicate that the /l/ does not undergo assimilation to become devoiced (see Miyaoka 2012, 73–76). Apostrophes are also used to indicate gemination.

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(9)      

Heterorganic clusters in Aivilik Inuktitut a. ikpaksaq ‘yesterday’ b. ilipsi ‘you (pl.)’ c. imnaq ‘cliff’ (Dorais, 2017, 198)

(10)      

Assimilated geminates in West Greenlandic a. ippassaq ‘yesterday’ b. ilissi ‘you (pl.)’ c. innaq ‘cliff’ (Dorais, 2017, 198)

See Bobaljik (1996) for a more detailed examination of this assimilation in terms of place and manner features across Inuit dialects. In general, segments with more phonologically marked place features, such as velars, bilabials, and particularly uvulars, are both more likely to trigger and are more resistant to assimilation than less marked places, particularly alveolars.

38.3.2 Vowels The reconstructed vowel inventory for the Inuit-Yupik branch contains only four short vowels, as shown in Table 7.11 The loss or retention of the mid-central vowel, schwa, is the main difference between the vowel inventories of the modern languages. Unangam Tunuu and most Inuit dialects have since lost schwa (ǝ), but it continues to be found in Yupik and at least one variety of Inupiaq. However, there is evidence that varieties without a surface schwa may nevertheless maintain a fourth underlying vowel phonologically (sometimes referred to as ‘weak i’ versus ‘strong i’). For instance, in some Inuit dialects, although *ǝ has typically merged with /i/ on the surface (i.e., weak i), only etymological *i (i.e., strong i) triggers palatalization of a following consonant, as shown in (11) in Uummarmiutun (spoken in the Northwestern Territories in Canada, but closer in form to Alaskan Inupiaq, which also exhibits the same phenomenon). Tab. 7: Proto-Inuit-Yupik vowel inventory (adapted from Fortescue et al. 2010, xii)  

front

central

back

high mid low

i     

  ǝ  a 

u     

11 Although Table 7 presents the reconstruction for the Inuit-Yupik branch, given that Bergsland (1994, xxxii) discusses the loss of schwa in Unangam Tunuu, the same inventory appears to hold for Proto-Inuit-Yupik-Unangan.



(11)                  

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Strong i versus weak i in Uummarmiutun a. aquvittunga(Weak i; PE *aquvǝt-)   aquvit-tunga     sit.down-decl.1sg     ‘I sat down.’ b. tikitʧunga(Strong i; PE *tǝkit-)   tikit-tunga     arrive-decl.1sg     ‘I have arrived.’     (Lowe 1985c, 114–115; Fortescue et al. 2010)

See Compton & Dresher (2011) for a phonological analysis of the strong/weak-i vowel contrast. Inuit-Yupik-Unangan languages maintain a contrast between short and long vowels, although schwa cannot typically be long. Vowels can combine to form diphthongs, except in Unangam Tunuu. Some vowel combinations also undergo levelling in Greenlandic.

38.4 Lexical categories Traditionally, the inventory of lexical categories (or word classes) in these languages is claimed to include nouns and verbs (Bergsland 1997 for Unangam Tunuu; Miyaoka 2012 for Central Alaskan Yupik; Sadock 1999 for Greenlandic). Many authors also posit a class of particles and enclitics—what Miyaoka (2012, 98) calls “non-inflecting words”—such as conjunctions. Compton (2012) has argued for the existence of distinct categories of adjectives and adverbs.

38.4.1 Nouns Nouns inflect for up to eight cases, three numbers (singular, dual, and plural), and possessor marking. For instance, Table 8 gives the non-possessed forms of the noun nuna ‘land’ in South Baffin Inuktitut. Across the language family, some dialects have lost or are in the process of losing the distinction between dual and plural, including West and East Greenlandic (according to Fortescue et al. 2010) and Atkan Unangam Tunuu (Bergsland, 1997, 48). Unangam Tunuu has also lost some of the case distinctions found elsewhere in the family (p.341). Possessor marking is often fused with case and number marking in portmanteau morphemes, as illustrated in Table 9 with a first-person singular possessor on the same noun.

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Tab. 8: Case and number marking in North Baffin Inuktitut (adapted from Dorais 2017, 140–141)  

singular

dual

plural

absolutive ergative modalis locative allative ablative vialis similaris

nuna nunaup nunamik nunami nunamut nunamit nunakkut nunatut

nunaak nunaak nunaangnik nunaangni nunaangnut nunaangnit nunaakkut nunaaktitut

nunait nunait nunanik nunani nunanut nunanit nunatigut nunatitut

Additional endings (not shown here) exist for other person and number combinations, with some degree of syncretism (as illustrated here between some of the singular and plural first-person forms). Most varieties maintain a distinction between non-reflexive and reflexive third-person possessors—sometimes termed “fourth person”. The antecedents of the reflexive possessors are typically subjects, as in (12) from Inuinnaqtun. (12)            

Reflexive and non-reflexive possessor marking a. irni-ni apiri-yaa   son-3sg.poss.refl ask-decl.3sg.3sg   ‘he asked his son (that is, his own son)’ b. irni-a apiri-yaa   son-3sg.poss.non.refl ask-decl.3sg.3sg   ‘he asked his son (that is, someone else’s son)’ (Lowe, 1985a, 82)

Tab. 9: 1sg possessor forms in North Baffin Inuktitut (adapted from Dorais 2017, 141)  

singular

dual

plural

absolutive ergative modalis locative allative ablative vialis similaris

nunaga nunama nunannik nunanni nunannut nunannit nunakkut nunattut

nunaakka nunaangma/amma nunaannik nunaanni nunaannut nunaannit nunaakkut nunaattut

nunakka nunama nunannik nunanni nunannut nunannit nunakkut/ttigut nunattut/ttitut



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38.4.2 Verbs Verbs in these languages inflect for such categories as clause-type (typically called “mood” in the literature on these languages), tense, aspect, negation, person, and number.12 For instance, in the following example from Inuinnaqtun, the first verb is in the so-called “conditional” clause type—but in the sense of marking a logical antecedent or if -clause—and its agreement marker shows that it is coreferential with the subject of the second verb, marked with the declarative. (13)    

havak-pallaa-rumi unagu-niaq-tuq work-too.much-cond.3sg.ss tire-fut-decl.3sg ‘if s/he works too hard, s/he will be tired’ (Lowe, 1985a, 172, glosses added)

One point of variation across the family (and even within individual languages) involves the status of tense. For instance, Miyaoka (2012, 1210–1211) claims that Central Alaskan Yupik lacks obligatory past tense marking, as illustrated below where a verb unmarked for tense is compatible with either present or past reference (although see Mithun’s (1999) proposal that tense is in fact obligatory in Central Alaskan Yupik, but that it’s interpretation is relative, rather than absolutive). (14)       (15)    

a. b.

Angun tai-guq. man.abs.sg come-ind.3sg. ‘The man has (just) come.’ ‘The man is coming (on the way).’ (Miyaoka, 2012, 1211)

Unuaq tangrr-aqa. this.morning see-ind.1sg.3sg. ‘I saw him this morning.’ (Miyaoka, 2012, 1211)

Similarly, Shaer (2003) and Bittner (2005) argue that West Greenlandic lacks tense. However, Hayashi (2011) demonstrates that the same does not hold of Eastern Canadian Inuktitut. Despite the fact that punctual verbs without overt tense marking are interpreted as immediate past, as in (16), durative verbs require overt marking to be able to have a past interpretation, as show in (17). Furthermore, past reference beyond the immediate past with punctual verbs also requires overt marking, as illustrated in (18).

12 As argued for by Sadock (1999) for West Greenlandic, the division between nouns and verbs in Inuit (and arguably the larger family) is quite clear. While, verbs in the third person of the participial clausetype may function as nouns, this is most likely the result of nominalization. Other clause-types, as well as verbs bearing first and second person, do not typically act as nominals (e.g., occupying argument positions or bearing case morphology).

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(16)      

Jaan tikit-tuq. John arrive-part.3s ‘John (just) arrived.’ (#‘John {is arriving/will arrive}.’) (Hayashi, 2011, 23)

(17)      

Jaan mumiq-tuq. John dance-part.3s ‘John is dancing.’ (* “John {was/will be} dancing.’) (Hayashi, 2011, 25)

(18) *Jaan tikit-tuq {ippatsaq/4-mit}.   John arrive-part.3s yesterday/4-loc   (Intended: John arrived {yesterday/at 4}.) (Hayashi, 2011, 24) Hayashi concludes that the immediate past interpretation of punctual verbs in the unmarked “present tense” is in fact aspectual in nature. This, along with required tense marking for distant past reference, is used to show that Eastern Canadian Inuktitut is not tenseless.13 In contrast, the Western Canadian dialect of Inuinnaqtun appears to genuinely lack past tense. Lowe (1985a) states that only future reference is systematically marked and provides examples of verbs unmarked for tense (including with durative verbs) whose temporal reference is compatible with both past and present readings. (19)      

hini-nngit-tuq sleep-neg-decl.3sg a. ‘s/he didn’t sleep’ b. ‘s/he is not sleeping’ (Lowe, 1985a, 110)

However, Lowe notes that some verbs in Inuinnaqtun appear to have a default past reading and require overt marking to have a present interpretation: (20)          

a.     b.    

aullaq-tuq leave-decl.3sg ‘s/he left’ aulla-liq-tuq leave-be.in.process.of-decl.3sg ‘s/he is leaving’ (Lowe, 1985a, 110)

13 However, Cable (2013) argues that graded tense systems, such as that found in Eastern Canadian Inuktitut, should in fact be analyzed as involving aspect and not tense.



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These appear to be the same class of punctual verbs identified by Hayashi for Eastern dialects, supporting the conclusion that their past reading is indeed aspectual in nature, as the readings depend on the lexical semantics of individual verbs.

38.4.3 Adjectives and adverbs While Inuit-Yupik-Unangan languages are often said to lack additional (open class) lexical categories beyond nouns and verbs, Compton (2012) argues for the existence of adjectives in Inuit based on inflectional differences between verbs and adjectives in Sallirmiutun and differences in compatibility with person agreement and clause-type markers in Nunavik Inuktitut. First, in Sallirmiutun, intransitive verbs in the third person singular take the clausetype marker -tuaq/-yuaq, while a number of intransitive predicates with prototypically adjectival meanings take the marker -tuq/-yuq instead: (21)            

Sallirmiutun intransitive verbs a. yara-yuaq   tire-decl.intr.3sg   ‘he, she, it is tired’(Lowe, 1985b, 119) b. aullaq-tuaq   leave-decl.intr.3sg   ‘s/he left’ (Lowe, 1985b, 261)

(22)            

Sallirmiutun adjectives a. puvala-yuq   fat-decl.intr.3sg   ‘s/he is fat’(Lowe, 1985b, 263) b. ipik-tuq   sharp-decl.intr.3sg   ‘it is sharp’ (Lowe, 1985b, 261)

These verb-like adjectives also show unique patterns in Nunavik Inuktitut. In the declarative clause type, in the third person, adjectives behave like verbs, combining directly with the clause-type marker, as in (23). However, with other persons or other clause types, the adjective must be nominalized using the declarative/participial marker, -tuq/juq, and combined with the copula, -u-, as shown in (24). Real intransitive verbs in this dialect show no such requirement and combine directly with clause type markers and non-third person forms:

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(23)            

Nunavik adjectives in declarative, third person a. piu-juq   good-decl.intr.3sg   ‘he/she/it is good’ b. piu-ju-it   good-decl.intr-3pl   ‘they are good’ (Nunavik Inuktitut, Dorais 1988, 114)

(24)            

Nunavik adjectives with other clause types and persons a. piu-ju-u-ju-nga  (non-third person)   good-decl.intr-cop-decl-1sg   ‘I am good.’ (Dorais’s original gloss: ‘I am someone good’)  (subordinate clause type) b. piu-ju-u-gamik   good-decl.intr-cop-cntg.3pl.ss   ‘because they are good’ (Nunavik Inuktitut, Dorais 1988, 114)

Turning to modifiers within polysynthetic words (in particular, clause-like verbal complexes), Compton (2012) also argues that a number of traditionally “derivational” suffixes are better analyzed as adjectives and adverbs, given their optionality, variable order, and ability to undergo modification—properties characteristic of adjectives and adverbs in other languages. For instance, adverbial suffixes often exhibit variable order, as illustrated in (25). (25)                

Variable ordering of adverbial suffixes a. niri-mmari-qatta-quuq-tuq   eat-even-regularly-probably-dec.3sg   ‘He’s probably even eating (habitually).’ b. niri-mmari-quu-qattaq-tuq c. niri-qatta-mmari-quuq-tuq d. niri-qattaq-quu-mmarit-tuq e. niri-qquu-qatta-mmarit-tuq f. niri-qqu-mmari-qattaq-tuq (Compton, 2012, 132–133)

Similarly, adjectival suffixes exhibit variable order, as in (26), and can undergo degree modification in Inuktitut, as shown in (27). (26)      

Variable ordering of adjectival suffixes a. igluralaannguaq   iglu-ralaaq-nnguaq   house-small-pretend



Inuit-Yupik-Unangan: An overview of the language family 

       

b.      

(27)        

Degree modification of adjectival suffixes qimmituqavijjuaq qimmiq-tuqaq-vijjuaq dog-old-really ‘a really old dog’ (Compton, 2015, 563)

 859

iglunnguaralaaq iglu-nnguaq-ralaaq house-pretend-small ‘small pretend house’ (Compton, 2015, 563)

Although the same analysis has not been extended to Unangam Tunuu and Yupik languages, both possess numerous suffixes described as “verbal modification” (Bergsland, 1997, 118–125) or “verbal elaboration” (Miyaoka, 2012, 1173–1209) which exhibit similar properties and cover similar adverbial meanings (e.g., manner, degree, etc.) or adjectival meanings (e.g., size, age, good/bad, real/fake, etc.).

38.5 Phenomena characteristic of the family 38.5.1 Polysynthesis The structure of words in these languages is sometimes described using the template in (28), where a lexical root can be followed by derivation (or lexical) suffixes (often called “post-bases” in the literature on these languages) that change the lexical category of a base or add new meaning, followed by syntactically-determined inflectional suffixes, and finally a small set of enclitics (see, e.g., Johns 2014). (28)

root-(derivational.suffixes)-inflectional.suffixes=(enclitics)

However, as exemplified in (1), repeated below, it is not always the case that inflectional morphology (case, clause-type markers, agreement) is found outside derivational morphology. (29)            

Holophrastic word in Inuktitut igluminiinginnarlutiujunnaqpalauqsimagaluarmata iglu -mini -it -innaq -lutik -u -junnaq house 3.poss.ss.loc -be.in -only -cont.3pl -cop -can -vak -lauq -sima -galuaq -mata -often -dist.past -perf  -indeed  -cntg.3pl ‘They could (in the distant past) indeed be (habitually) entirely in their own houses.’

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In this example the fused possessor agreement and case morphology on the incorporated noun is followed by the locative incorporating verb -it- ‘be in’—arguably a derivation or lexical suffix under the traditional view. Similarly, the more lexical/adverbial morpheme -galuaq- ‘indeed’ can appear between aspect and clause-type marking. Fortescue (1980) (for West Greenlandic) and de Reuse (1994) (for Siberian Yupik) propose sets of recursive rules (not unlike phrase-structure rules used in syntax) to explain the morphological structure of words in those languages, including both category changing suffixes and different types of modifiers. Two phenomena that contributes to the polysynthetic character of these languages are noun incorporation and verb incorporation. For instance, in Inuit, a closed set of light or semantically bleached verbs trigger obligatory noun incorporation of their object (see van Geenhoven 1998 and Johns 2007). The remaining verbs in the language (those that contain a lexically rich root) do not participate in incorporation. (30)                

Noun incorporation in Inuit a. pitsi-tu-vunga   dried.fish-consume-intr.indic.1s.   ‘I’m eating dried fish.’ b. arna-u-junga   woman-be-intr.part.1s   ‘I’m a woman.’ c. qukiuti-taaq-tunga rifle-get-intr.part.1s.   ‘I got a rifle.’ (Johns, 2007, 541–544)

As observed by Sadock (1980) for Kalaallisut, and replicated by Johns (2007) for Inuktitut, noun incorporation is somewhat different from what is found in other languages in that an incorporated noun may be referential and even introduce a discourse referent: (31)                        

Incorporation of novel discourse referents in Inuit a. Suulut timmisartui-lior-poq   Søren plane-make-intr.indic.3s.   ‘Søren made an airplanei.’   Suluusa-qar-poqi aquute-qar-llu-nii-lu   wing-have-intr.indic.3s. rudder-have-inf.-3Rs-and   ‘Iti has wings and a rudder.’ (Kalaallisut, Sadock 1980, 311) b. Johnny uvirnirui-liu-laur-mat   Johnny shirt-make-past-intr.caus.3s.   Johnny made a shirti.   nulia-nga angirra-rami taku-llu-ni-uki   wife-Poss3s. home-cause4s. see-conj.-4s.-3s   ‘And his wife came home and she saw iti. (Mittimatalik Inuktitut, Johns 2007, 539)



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A similar phenomenon of verb incorporation is also found, wherein a closed set of restructuring verbs trigger the incorporation of their verbal complement. (32)                  

Verb-incorporating restructuring verbs in Inuit a. Miali igla-qu-jara   Mary(abs) laugh-order-decl.1sg.3sg   ‘I ordered Mary to laugh.’ b. Miali igla-ruma-juq   Mary(abs) laugh-want-decl.3sg   ‘Mary wants to laugh.’ c. Miali igla-niraq-tara   Mary(abs) laugh-say-decl.1sg.3sg   ‘I said that Mary laughed.’ (Pittman 2006, 1–3, glosses adapted)

A common observation in the literature on Inuit-Yupik-Unangan languages is the highly syntactic nature of word-formation (e.g., Fortescue 1980; de Reuse 1994, 2009; Cook & Johns 2009; Pittman 2009; Compton & Pittman 2010). Recent work has sought to reconcile the highly syntactic nature of word-formation in these languages with advances in morphosyntactic theory, particularly realizational approaches to morphology, such as Distributed Morphology (Halle & Marantz, 1993, 1994), in which syntactic hierarchical structure extends into words.14

38.5.2 Ergativity Inuit-Yupik-Unangan languages exhibit ergativity in their case marking, agreement, and possibilities for extraction.15 For instance, in clauses with an ergative-absolutive alignment, the agent bears ergative case and the patient (or potentially the recipient, in the case of ditransitives) bears absolutive case (although Unangam Tunuu is an exception

14 For instance, Johns (2007) proposes that the requirement that (phonological) words contain a lexical root be analyzed in terms roots (either a verbal root or incorporated nominal root) undergoing syntactic movement, essentially collecting derivation morphemes into a polysynthetic word. Compton & Pittman (2010) propose that arguments and clauses (i.e., CP and DP syntactic phases) are realized (i.e., spelled out) as phonological words, yielding argument words and (remnant) clausal words. This essentially reflects the descriptive generalization that words (apart from interjections and conjunctions) exhibit either noun-like or verb-like properties—which is to be expected if words are in fact the extended functional projections of these categories. More recently, Yuan (2018) has argued that noun incorporation is the result of a morphophonological operation—combining an object nominal with an adjacent incorporating verb. Presumably, other polysynthetic morphology in the language could be handled in the same way; as a morphological process operating on a syntactic structure. 15 While less clearly ergative, the agreement pattern in Unangam Tunuu, discussed in the next section, appears to be the remnants of such a system.

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to this; see Section 5.3). The absolutive also marks the subject of intransitives, yielding the ergative pattern. The following examples are from Kivalliq Inuktitut (Johns, 1992, 58–59, glosses adapted):16 (33)      

Transitive Arna-up angut kuni-ga-a. woman-erg man(abs) kiss-decl.tr-3s/3s ‘The woman kissed the man.’

(34)      

Intransitive Angut ani-juq. man(abs) go-decl.intr.3s ‘The man went out.’

In both constructions, ergative and absolutive arguments, and these alone, trigger agreement on the verb. As such, in an ergative-absolutive alignment, the phi-features (i.e., person and number features) of both the subject and object are indexed on the verb. In addition, there exists an antipassive construction in which the subject bears absolutive case (like in intransitives) and the object bears an oblique/instrumental case. Agreement only indexes the absolutive subject.17 Some verbs in this construction require an antipassive morpheme, such as -si-, while others do not, as illustrated in the following pair of examples from South Baffin Inuktitut. (35)            

Antipassive a. Arnaq niri-juq aapu-mit   woman(abs.sg) eat-decl.intr-3sg apple-obl.sg   ‘The woman is eating an apple.’ b. Qimmiq uvannit kii-si-ju-q.   dog(abs.sg) 1.obl.sg bite-ap-decl.intr-3sg   ‘The dog bit me.’ (South Baffin Inuktitut, Compton 2017a, 844)

Spreng (2012) argues that the distribution of antipassive marker in Inuktitut is predictable, with “only punctual telic verbs” requiring it. See Spreng (2012) for additional discussion tying this marker to aspect. In ditransitives, either the patient or recipient argument (but only one) may bear absolutive case and trigger agreement on the verb. The remaining argument takes

16 Johns’s original examples label the morphemes glossed here as decl.tr and decl.intr as pass.part and intr.part. This aligns not only with her argument that these structures involve nominalizations, but also their use in Greenlandic, where, unlike in Inuktitut, they cannot mark a main clause. 17 This dialect often collapses the instrumental case (e.g. -mik/-nik) with ablative case (e.g. -mit/-nit). Here and elswhere I use the label oblique.



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either allative case if it is a goal, or the instrumental case if it is a patient, and does not trigger agreement. (36)            

Case-marking in ditransitives a. Jaani-up aapu tuni-ja-nga   John-erg.sg apple(abs.sg) give-decl.tr-3sg.3sg   ‘John gave the apple to Mary.’ b. Jaani-up tuni-ja-nga Miali   John-erg.sg give-decl.tr-3sg.3sg Mary(abs.sg)   ‘John gave Mary the apple.’ (South Baffin Inuktitut, Compton 2017a, 837)

Miali-mut. Mary-allat.sg appu-mit. apple-obl.sg

In addition to case-marking and agreement (discussed in further detail in the next subsection), Inuit also exhibits syntactic ergativity, insofar as only absolutive arguments (but not ergative ones) can undergo extraction (i.e., to create a relative clause), as shown by Johns (1992) with data from Kivalliq Inuktitut: (37)            

Syntactic ergativity in Inuit a. #anguti-up nanuq kapi-ja-a ani-juq   man-erg bear(abs) stab-decl.trans-3sg go.out-decl.intr.3sg   Intended reading: ‘The man who stabbed the bear left.’ b. angut nanur-mik kapi-si-juq ani-juq   man(abs) bear-obl.sg stab-ap-decl.intr.3sg go.out-decl.intr.3sg   ‘The man who stabbed the bear left.’ (Kivalliq Inuktitut, Johns 1992, 72)

Crucially, in (37-a) it is not possible to obtain an interpretation where ergative-marked anguti-up ‘the man’ is the relativized element. However, a parallel antipassive construction allows an absolutive subject to be relativized.

38.5.3 Rich agreement Inuit-Yupik-Unangan languages exhibit rich agreement, indexing both ergative and absolutive arguments for up to three number contrasts: singular, dual, and plural; and four person contrasts: first, second, third disjoint reference (or different subject), and third coreferential (or same subject)—often called fourth person in the literature. For the most part, agreement in these languages follows an ergative pattern, insofar as the exponents used to co-index the features of absolutive subjects in intransitives often index the same features on absolutive objects in transitives (with notable exceptions).18

18 In particular, third person forms are more irregular (see discussion of Lowe 1985a) and forms vary somewhat by clause type (Compton, 2017b).

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For example, in forms from Quebec Inuktitut in Table 10, the intransitive forms -ŋa, -ɣuk, -ɣut, -it, -tik, and -si, used to co-index absolutive subjects, reoccur in the transitive forms whose absolutive objects bear the same phi-features. This is illustrated in (38), where 2sg -tit indexes the subject of an intransitive or the object of a transitive. (38)            

Ergative agreement pattern a. pinasut-tu-tit   work-decl.intr-2sg   ‘you have a job’ b. taku-ja-a-tit   see-decl.trans-3-2sg   ‘he/she/it sees you’ (Dorais, 1988, 57–58)

Furthermore, in the ergative-absolutive alignment both arguments are (or can be) co-indexed on the verb, whereas in the antipassive construction (involving an absolutive subject and an object in an oblique/instrumental case), only the absolutive subject is indexed on the verb (i.e., the intransitive agreement pattern).19 Lowe (1985a, a.o.) observes that the third-person object forms in the declarative clause type appear to be have originated from the possessive (or possessor agreement) forms, the number of the possessum being reinterpreted as number of the (third person) direct object, as shown in Table 11. Tab. 10: Phi-markers in declarative clause type in Quebec Inuktitut (Dorais, 1988) object subject

1sg

1du

1pl

2sg

2du

2pl

3sg

3du

3pl

1sg 1du 1pl 2sg 2du 2pl 3sg 3du 3pl Intr

–  –  –  ʁma ttiŋa tsiŋa aŋa aŋa aŋa ŋa

–  –  –  ttiɣuk ttiɣuk ttiɣuk atiɣuk atiɣuk atiɣuk ɣuk

–  –  –  ttiɣut ttiɣut ttiɣut atiɣut atiɣut atiɣut ɣut

ɣit ttiɣit ttiɣit –  –  –  atit atit atit tit

ttik ttik ttik –  –  –  atik atik atik tik

tsi tsi tsi –  –  –  asi asi asi si

ʁa vuk vut it tik si ŋa ŋak ŋat – 

akka avuk avut akkik atik asi aŋik aŋik aŋik uk

kka vuk vut tit tik si ŋit ŋit ŋit t 

19 Some endings are more difficult to decompose and are often treated as portmanteau or fused. For instance, in Table 10 the portmanteau -ʁa picks out 1sg:3sg, while -ʁma picks out 2sg:1sg.



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While such suffixes have been traditionally viewed as instances of agreement, several recent proposals, including Johns & Kučerová (2017) and Yuan (2018), have suggested that the object-indexing forms in the language are in fact pronominal clitics (cf. Compton 2019). Tab. 11: Comparison of possessive and transitive forms in Inuinnaqtun (Lowe, 1985a) Possessive suffixes

Double person markers

qayara qayakka qayatka qayan qayakkin qayatin qayaa qayaik qayait

takuyara takuyakka takuyatka takuyan takuyakkin takuyatin takuyaa takuyaik takuyait

my canoe my two canoes my canoes (p.) your (s.) canoe your (s.) two canoes your (s.) canoes (p.) his/her canoe his/her two canoes his/her canoes

I saw him/her/it I saw them (d.) I saw them (p.) you (s.) saw him/her/it you (s.) saw them (d.) you (s.) saw them (p.) he/she saw him/her/it he/she saw them (d.) he/she saw them (p.)

Unangam Tunuu exhibits a unique pattern of agreement not found in other languages of the family called ‘Anaphoric agreement’ or the ‘Aleut Effect’ (Bergsland 1997; Sadock 1999, 2000). In a normal transitive clause in Unangam Tunuu, both arguments bear absolutive case and agreement is only with the subject, as in (39-a). However, if an internal argument, such as the object is omitted, the subject instead bears relative (i.e., ergative) case and special inflection appears on the verb tracking both the subject and missing argument, as in (39-b). (39)          

a.     b.    

Piitra-x̂ Ivaana-x kidu-ku-x̂. Peter-abs John-abs help-pres-3s ‘Peter is helping John.’ Piitra-m ____kidu-ku-u.  Peter-rel ____help-pres-A:3s/3s ‘Peter is helping him.’ (Bergsland & Dirks 1981, 32, as reported in Merchant 2011, 194)

While the above example illustrates the effect with a direct object, interestingly, the effect also obtains when other VP-internal arguments are left out, including possessors of non-subjects, as in (40), and arguments in embedded clauses, as in (41): (40)      

Anaphoric agreement triggered by missing possessor a. Piitra-x̂ hla-s ada-a kidu-ku-x̂   Peter-abs boy-pl father-A:3s.abs help-pres.3s   ‘Peter is helping the boys’ father.’(Bergsland, 1997, 144)

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b.    

Piitra-x̂ ____ada-a kidu-ku-u   Peter-abs ____ father-A:3s.abs help-pres.A:3s/3s   ‘Peter is helping the boys’ father.’ (Bergsland, 1997, 144)

(41)      

Anaphoric agreement triggered by missing embedded argument Qa-x̂ igiiim ax̂s saĝa-qa-a una-ku-u. fish-abs dat.3R give.conj do.yesterday-prt-A:3s/3s cook-pres-A:3s/3s ‘She is cooking the fish he gave her yesterday.’ (Bergsland & Dirks 1981, 139, as glossed in Merchant 2011, 202)

For additional discussion of this phenomenon, the reader is directed to Merchant (2011) and references therein, as well as Yuan (2018) who examines a similar effect in some Inuit dialects.

38.6 Writing systems The languages of this family use a variety of different writing systems based on Cyrillic and Roman alphabets, as well as the Cree Syllabary. Although Unangam Tunuu was first written in an adapted version of the Cyrillic alphabet, a romanized orthography was created in 1972 for use in schools (Bergsland, 1997). The system uses in digraphs (and a trigraph) to show devoicing, as well as a circumflex diacritic on and to distinguish uvular fricatives from velar fricatives, as outlined in Table 12 (omitting sounds found only in English and Russian loanwords).20 The three vowels (a, i, u) are written double when geminated. According to Bergsland (p.25) “double consonants only occur as the result of Eastern syncopation”. Tab. 12: Eastern Unangam Tunuu writing system (adapted from Bergsland 1997, 16)  

labial

alveolar

palatal

velar

uvular

glottal

stop   fricative   nasal   approximant  

        hm m  hw w 

t    hd d  hn n  hl l 

ch   s  z      hy y 

k  g  x  g  hng ng    

q    x̂ ĝ        

            h   

20 See Bergsland (1994, 1997) for a more detailed discussion of differences between Unangam Tunuu dialects.



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Central Alaskan Yupik also employs a romanized orthography, but instead uses double letters and a diacritic to indicate voicelessness on fricatives and nasals, respectively, as illustrated in Table 13.21 The Inuit language is written using multiple systems, based on dialect and region. For instance, North Slope Iñupiaq uses a romanized orthography with diacritics to indicate palatal and uvular consonants. Western and Central Canadian dialects also employ romanized orthographies, with small differences reflecting dialect differences (e.g., having instead of ) or simply orthographic conventions (e.g., using instead of ). Tab. 13: Central Alaskan Yupik writing system (adapted from Miyaoka 2012, 73) vowels

high low

i   

e  a 

u   

   

   

   

   

consonants

stops voiceless fricatives voiced fricatives approximants voiceless nasals voiced nasals

p  vv v  w  m̅ m 

t  ll l    n̅ n 

c  ss s       

k  gg g    ng ng

q  rr r       

  w  u͡g      

  ur͡r u͡r      

Dialects in Nunavik and Eastern Nunavut are typically written using a syllabary, called syllabics, first developed for Cree. Each symbol represents a (C)V sequence or a coda consonant. The shape of each symbol correlates with the consonant, while its orientation indicates the vowel. The Nunavik dialect includes an additional column of symbols for the diphthong (which would be written using a separate symbol in the Nunavut system), as outlined in Table 14. The final two rows of this table, for a non-uvular r-sound and /h/, are used in dialects that possess these sounds. Long vowels are indicated using a dot. For instance, kuuk ‘river’ is written ᑰᒃ in syllabics, wherein represents /ku/, the dot above this symbol indicates that the vowel is long, and the final /k/ is represented by .

21 Jacobson (1995, 3) notes that either an acute accent or a horizontal line (macron) may be used to indicate the voiceless nasals.

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Tab. 14: Inuktitut Syllabics  

i 

u 

a 

(coda)

aiNunavik

– 

ᐃ 

ᐅ 

ᐊ 

 

ᐁ 

p  t  k  g  m  n  s  l  j  v  r  q  ng ɬ  ř h 

ᐱ  ᑎ  ᑭ  ᒋ  ᒥ  ᓂ  ᓯ  ᓕ  ᔨ  ᕕ  ᕆ  ᕿ  ᖏ ᖠ  ᖨ  ᕵ 

ᐳ  ᑐ  ᑯ  ᒍ  ᒧ  ᓄ  ᓱ  ᓗ  ᔪ  ᕗ  ᕈ  ᖁ  ᖑ  ᖢ  ᖬ  ᕹ 

ᐸ  ᑕ  ᑲ  ᒐ  ᒪ  ᓇ  ᓴ  ᓚ  ᔭ  ᕙ  ᕋ  ᖃ  ᖓ  ᖤ  ᖪ  ᕷ 

ᑉ  ᑦ  ᒃ  ᒡ  ᒻ  ᓐ  ᔅ  ᓪ  ᔾ  ᕝ  ᕐ  ᖅ  ᖕ  ᖦ  ᖮ  ᕻ 

ᐯ  ᑌ  ᑫ  ᒉ  ᒣ  ᓀ  ᓭ  ᓓ  ᔦ  ᕓ  ᕃ  ᙯ  ᙰ      ᕴ 

38.7 Language maintenance and revitalization A number of the challenges for creating resources for languages of this family should be familiar to Indigenous language communities more generally: the lingering effects of colonization on language shift, (relatively) small speaker populations, often considerable dialect variation, limited textual corpora, a more recent written tradition, and a lack of technologies adapted to writing in these languages (e.g., word processors, spelling and grammar checkers, etc.). In addition, the highly polysynthetic nature of Inuit-Yupik-Unangan languages may also be seen as a barrier to new learners who are very quickly confronted with long and often complex words. In particular, speakers of Indo-European languages, who are accustomed to such elements as complementizers, auxiliaries, modals, and pronouns occurring as separate words, must instead find equivalent functions marked word-internally. Furthermore, morphophonological alternations at morpheme-boundaries can make it more difficult to identify and isolate these pieces and successfully decompose words. A related challenge has been competing orthographies, particularly for the Inuit language. While syllabics are used in much of Eastern Canada, two versions of the system are in use; one in Nunavut, and another in Nunavik. Similarly, a variety of romanized orthographies exist, including distinct standards for Greenlandic, Labrador Inuttitut,



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Western Canadian dialects, and Alaskan dialects, often reflecting regional differences in pronunciation, but sometimes merely adopting different conventions for representing the same sounds. On one hand, having so many writing systems poses a challenge to creating resources that can be used across communities and regions. On the other hand, it is important to keep in mind that local language varieties (including differences in pronunciation, vocabulary, and even syntax) hold a great deal of social importance in terms of local identity. Such social factors are important in terms of motivation for transmitting, retaining, or (re-)learning one’s language. Nevertheless, a number of important initiatives are under way to create new materials and resources. For Unangam Tunuu, there is an ongoing Unangam Tunuu Revitalization Project, overseen by the Unangam Tunuu Advisory Committee, which has produced online audio books.22 In addition, language learning apps for iOS and Android have recently been released for both Niigugim Tunuu (Atka) and Qagaadam Tunuu (Eastern) dialects. As for Yupik languages, a language learning app for Yup’ik, called Yugtun, was also recently created by Alaska’s Southwest Region School Board for iOS and Android.23 Furthermore, the Anchorage School District recently began a dual-language immersion program in Yup’ik and English.24 In terms of recently published print resources, Miyaoka’s (2012) reference grammar is a particularly rich and comprehensive archive of Central Alaskan Yupik. For Inupiaq, the Iñupiatun Uqaluit Taniktun dictionary (MacLean, 2014), is particularly impressive—arguably the most comprehensive dictionary of any language of the family. In terms of promoting this variety of the language online, a recent initiative has sought to create an Inupiaq version of Facebook (Creed, 2019).25 The Alaska Native Language Center continues to play an important role in documenting and promoting Unangam Tunuu, Yupik, and Inupiaq, having published a number of resources for these languages, including many of the works cited in this chapter. A recently launched community-driven Alaska Native Languages website houses links to a variety of programs, resources, and upcoming events (https://www. alaskanativelanguages.org). For Western and Central Canadian varieties of the Inuit language, two recently-published print resources include a new Inuinnaqtun dictionary (Kudlak & Compton, 2018) and a dictionary of Utkuhikšalingmiut derivational morphology (Briggs et al., 2015). In the Inuvialuit Settlement region in the Northwest Territories, the Inuvialuit Cultural Centre is responsible for overseeing the preservation and revitalization of the language.

22 https://www.apiai.org/departments/cultural-heritage-department/culture-history/resources/ 23 https://www.alaskapublic.org/2019/10/15/learning-yupik-on-the-go-a-new-language-app-for-bristolbay/ 24 https://www.languagemagazine.com/2019/05/16/alaskas-first-and-second/ 25 https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/north/inupiatun-added-to-facebook-translate-app-1.4735398

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In Eastern Canada, Inuit Uqausinginnik Taiguusiliuqtiit, Nunavut’s language authority, recently published a community-oriented Inuktut reference grammar (Inuit Uqausinginnik Taiguusiliuqtiit, IUT 2018), written in an accessible, non-technical style. Two ongoing college programs for Inuit in Eastern Canada, Nunavut Sivuniksavut and Nunavik Sivunitsavut, though not specifically oriented to language revitalization, nevertheless play an important role in protecting, promoting, and transmitting the language insofar as they offer Inuit youth two years of post-secondary education including courses in their language. As for Labrador Inuttitut, a project is currently underway led by Alana Johns to collect and transcribe audiovisual materials from speakers across Labrador. In Labrador, the Cultural Division of the Nunatsiavut Government is responsible for overseeing the promotion and preservation of the language. Finally, for Greenlandic, Oqaasileriffik (the Language Secretariat of Greenland) is tasked with overseeing the development of the language and has published a number of resources, including online dictionaries.26

38.8 Conclusion This chapter has presented a brief overview of the Inuit-Yupik-Unangan language family, beginning with the structure of the family and the current state of its various languages and dialects. Its typological properties, sound system, and inventory of lexical categories were also examined, as well as such characteristic phenomena as polysynthesis, ergativity, and rich agreement. The various writing systems were presented, including syllabics and Roman orthographies. Finally, some of the initiatives and tools being developed to maintain and revitalize these languages were discussed, along with the governments and organizations responsible for ensuring their continued survival.

References Berge, Anna. in prep. Sketch of Unangam Tunuu. In Anna Berge, Anja Arnhold, & Naja Trondhjem, (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Inuit-Yupik-Unangan Languages. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bergsland, Knut. 1994. Aleut dictionary: Unangam Tunudgusii. Fairbanks: Alaska Native Language Center, University of Alaska Fairbanks. Bergsland, Knut. 1997. Aleut Grammar: Unangam Tunuganaam Achixaasix̂ . Alaska Native Language Center Research Paper Number 10. University of Alaska Fairbanks. Bergsland, Knut, & Moses Dirks. 1981. Atkan Aleut School Grammar. Achorage: University of Alaska, National Bilingual Materials Development Center, Rural Education. Bittner, Maria. 2005. Future discourse in a tenseless language. Journal of Semantics 22. 339–387.

26 https://oqaasileriffik.gl/resources/



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Bobaljik, Jonathan David. 1996. Assimilation in the Inuit Languages and the Place of the Uvular Nasal. International Journal of American Linguistics 62. 323–350. Briggs, Jean L., Alana Johns, & Conor Cook. 2015. Utkuhikšalingmiut Uqauhiitigut Uqauhiliurut – Dictionary of Utkuhiksalingmiut Inuktitut Postbase Suffixes. Iqaluit, NU: Nunavut Arctic College. Cable, Seth. 2013. Beyond the past, present, and future: towards the semantics of ‘graded tense’ in Gĩkũyũ. Natural Language Semantics 21. 219–276. Compton, Richard. 2012. The Syntax and Semantics of Modification in Inuktitut: Adjectives and Adverbs in a Polysynthetic Language. Ph.D. thesis, University of Toronto. Compton, Richard. 2015. Inuktitut. In Nicola Grandi & Livia Kortvelyessy, (ed.), Edinburgh Handbook of Evaluative Morphology, 559–567. Edinburgh University Press. Compton, Richard. 2017a. Ergativity in Inuktitut. In Jessica Coon, Diane Massam, & Lisa deMena Travis, (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Ergativity, 832–850. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Compton, Richard. 2017b. Mutually conditioned mood and object agreement in Inuit. In Christopher Hammerly & Brandon Prickett, (ed.), Proceedings of the Forty-Sixth Annual Meeting of the North East Linguistic Society (NELS 46). Amherst, MA: GLSA, University of Massachusetts. Compton, Richard. 2019. Person complementarity and (pseudo) Person Case Constraint effects: Evidence from Inuktitut. Canadian Journal of Linguistics / Revue canadienne de linguistique 64. 592–616. Compton, Richard, & B. Elan Dresher. 2011. Palatalization and “strong i” across Inuit dialects. Canadian Journal of Linguistics / Revue canadienne de linguistique 56. 203–228. Compton, Richard, & Christine M. Pittman. 2010. Word formation by phase in Inuit. Lingua 120. 2167–2192. Cook, Conor, & Alana Johns. 2009. Determining the semantics of Inuktitut postbases. In Marc-Antoine Mahieu & Nicole Tersis, (ed.), Variations on Polysynthesis: The Eskaleut languages, 149–170. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Creed, Myles. 2019. Translating Facebook’s Interface into Iñupiatun (and other Indigenous languages). Paper presented at the Sixth International Conference on Language Documentation & Conservation (ICLDC 6). Honolulu: University of Hawai’i at Mānoa. February 28 – March 3. de Reuse, Willem J. 1994. Siberian Yupik Eskimo: The language and its contacts with Chukchi. Studies in Indigenous languages of the Americas. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. de Reuse, Willem J. 2009. Polysynthesis as a typological feature: An attempt at a characterization from Eskimo and Athabascan perspectives. In Marc-Antoine Mahieu & Nicole Tersis, (ed.), Variations on Polysynthesis: The Eskaleut languages, 19–34. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Dorais, Louis-Jacques. 1988. Tukilik: An Inuktitut grammar for all. Québec: Association Inuksiutiit Katimajiit Inc. & Group d’études inuit et circumpolaires (GETIC). Dorais, Louis-Jacques. 2003. Inuit Uqausiqatigiit: Inuit Languages and dialects. Nunavut Arctic College, 2nd edn. Dorais, Louis-Jacques. 2010. The Language of the Inuit: Syntax, Semantics, and Society in the Arctic. Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press. Dorais, Louis-Jacques. 2017. Inuit Languages and Dialects: Inuit Uqausiqatigiit. Iqaluit: Nunavut Arctic College Media. Fortescue, Michael. 1980. Affix ordering in West Greenlandic derivational process. International Journal of American Linguistics 46. 259–278. Fortescue, Michael. 2017. Polysynthesis in the Arctic/Sub-Arctic. In Michael Fortescue, Marianne Mithun, & Nicholas Evans, (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Polysynthesis. Oxford University Press. Fortescue, Michael, Steven Jacobson, & Lawrence Kaplan. 2010. Comparative Eskimo Dictionary: With Aleut Cognates. Research Paper 9. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Fairbanks, Alaska Native Language Center, 2nd edn.

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Halle, Morris, & Alec Marantz. 1993. Distributed morphology and the pieces of inflection. In Kenneth Hale & Samuel J. Keyser, (ed.), The View from Building 20: Essays in Linguistics in Honor of Sylvain Bromberger, 111–176. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. Halle, Morris, & Alec Marantz. 1994. Some key features of Distributed Morphology. MIT Working Papers in Linguistics 21: Papers on Phonology and Morphology 275–288. Hayashi, Midori. 2011. The Structure of Multiple Tenses in Inuktitut. Ph.D. thesis, University of Toronto. Inuit Uqausinginnik Taiguusiliuqtiit. 2018. Inuktut Uqausiup Aaqqiksuutingit. Iqaluit, NU: Inuit Uqausinginnik Taiguusiliuqtiit – Inuktut Reference Grammar. Jacobson, Steven A. 1995. A practical grammar of the Central Alaskan Yup’ik Eskimo language. Fairbanks: Alaska Native Language Center. Jacobson, Steven A. 2006. History of the Naukan Yupik Eskimo dictionary with implications for a future Siberian Yupik dictionary. Études/Inuit/Studies 29. 149–161. Johns, Alana. 1992. Deriving ergativity. Linguistic Inquiry 23. 57–87. Johns, Alana. 2007. Restricting noun incorporation: root movement. Natural Language & Linguistic Theory 25. 535–575. Johns, Alana. 2014. Derivational Morphology in Eskimo-Aleut. In Rochelle Lieber & Pavol Štekaur, (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Derivational Morphology, 702–723. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Johns, Alana, & Ivona Kučerová. 2017. On the Morphosyntactic Reflexes of Information Structure in the Ergative Patterning of Inuit Language. In Jessica Coon, Diane Massam, & Lisa Demena Travis, (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Ergativity, 397–418. Oxford University Press. Kaplan, Lawrence. 2020. Inuit or Eskimo: Which name to use? https://www.uaf.edu/anlc/resources/inuit_ or_eskimo.php. Accessed June 11, 2020. Kudlak, Emily, & Richard Compton. 2018. Kangiryuarmiut Inuinnaqtun Uqauhiitaa Numiktitirutait Dictionary. Iqaluit, NU: Nunavut Arctic College. Larsen, Joan Nymand, Peter Schweitzer, & Gail Fondahl, (ed.). 2010. Arctic Social Indicators: a followup to the Arctic Human Development Report. Copenhagen: Nordic Council of Ministers. Larson, Joan Nymand, Peter Schweiter, & Andrey Petrov, (ed.). 2014. Arctic Social Indicators – ASI II: Implementation. Denmark: Nordic Council of Ministers. Lowe, Ronald. 1985a. Kangiryuarmiut Uqauhingita Ilihautdjutikhangit – Basic Kangiryuarmiut Eskimo Grammar. Inuvik, Northwest Territories: Committee for Original Peoples Entitlement. Lowe, Ronald. 1985b. Siglit Inuvialuktun Uqausiita Ilisarviksait – Basic Siglit Inuvialuktun Grammar. Inuvik, Northwest Territories: Committee for Original Peoples Entitlement. Lowe, Ronald. 1985c. Uummarmiut Uqalungiha Ilihaur̂ r̂ utikr̂ angit – Basic Uummarmiut Eskimo Grammar. Inuvik, Northwest Territories: Committee for Original Peoples Entitlement. MacLean, Edna Ahgeak. 2014. Iñupiatun Uqaluit Taniktun Sivuniŋit: Iñupiaq to English Dictionary. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Press. Mallon, Mick. 1999. Intermediate Inuktitut. Iqaluit: Nunavut Arctic College. Merchant, Jason. 2011. Aleut case matters. In Etsuyo Yuasa, Tista Bagchi, & Katharine Beals, (ed.), Pragmatics and Autolexical Grammar. In honor of Jerry Sadock, Linguistik Aktuell/Linguistics Today, 176, 193–210. John Benjamins. Mithun, Marianne. 1999. The status of tense within inflection. In Geert Booij & Jaap van Marle, (ed.), Yearbook of Morphology, 23–44. Amsterdam: Kluwer. Miyaoka, Osahito. 2012. A Grammar of Central Alaskan Yupik (CAY). Mouton Grammar Library 58. Berlin/ Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Pittman, Christine. 2006. Inuktitut restructuring affixes. In Atsushi Fujimori & Maria Amélia Reis Silva, (ed.), Proceedings of the 2006 annual conference of the Canadian Linguistic Association. Pittman, Christine M. 2009. Complex verb formation revisited: Restructuring in Inuktitut and Nuu-chah-nulth. In Marc-Antoine Mahieu & Nicole Tersis, (ed.), Variations on Polysynthesis: The Eskaleut languages, 135–147. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.



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Sadock, Jerrold M. 1980. Noun incorporation in Greenlandic: A case of syntactic word formation. Language 57(300–319). Sadock, Jerrold M. 1999. The Nominalist Theory of Eskimo: A Case Study in Scientific Self-Deception. International Journal of American Linguistics 65. 383–406. Sadock, Jerrold M. 2000. Aleut number agreement. In Berkely Linguisics Society, (ed.), Proceedings of the Berkeley Linguistics Society. Berkeley, CA. Shaer, Benjamin. 2003. Toward the tenseless analysis of a tenseless language. In Paula Menéndez-Benito Jan Anderssen & Adam Werle, (ed.), Proceedings of SULA2, 139–156. Amherst, MA: GLSA, University of Massachusetts. Spreng, Bettina. 2012. Viewpoint Aspect in Inuktitut: The Syntax and Semantics of Antipassives. Ph.D. thesis, University of Toronto. Statistics Canada. 2017. Canada [Country] and Canada [Country] (table). Census Profile. 2016 Census. Statistics Canada Catalogue no. 98-316-X2016001. Ottawa. Released November 29, 2017. https:// www12.statcan.gc.ca/census-recensement/2016/dp-pd/prof/index.cfm?Lang=E (accessed June 10, 2020). Thomsen, Marianne Lykke. 2013. Statement by Denmark-Greenland at UN PFII-12 on recommendations of the Permanent Forum – Culture. https://fnnewyork.um.dk/en/denmark/denmarks-engagementwith-the-un/statements/newsdisplaypage/?newsid=95712148-0534-4dcf-884d-cc439da43848. U.S. Census Bureau. 2015. American Community Survey – Detailed Languages Spoken at Home and Ability to Speak English for the Population 5 Years and Over: 2009–2013. https://www.census. gov/data/ tables/2013/demo/2009–2013-lang-tables.html. van Geenhoven, Veerle. 1998. Semantic Incorporation and Indefinite Descriptions: Semantic and Syntactic Aspects of Noun Incorporation in West Greenlandic. Stanford: CSLI Publications. Yuan, Michelle. 2018. Dimensions of Ergativity in Inuit: Theory and Microvariation. Ph.D. thesis, MIT.

Leslie Saxon

39 Dene – Athabaskan Abstract: The Dene language family includes some 40 distinct languages, and varieties of these languages. The family is large both in the number of languages and in the broadly distributed geographical areas of western North America which sustain Dene peoples. The Dene world takes in Diné and Apache language-speaking communities extending across a wide area including the American Southwest; communities of the Pacific Coast area stretching from present-day NW California to southern Washington state; and communities both west and east of the Rocky Mountains north of the present-day Canada-US border and extending from Cook Inlet at the west as far as Hudson Bay at the east. Because of their size, the Dene territories cover many types of terrain and take in many river systems, and the people have many linguistic and cultural neighbours. This chapter sketches phonological, morphological, syntactic, and semantic properties of Dene languages, chosen with reference to what is happening in Dene language communities driving forward language maintenance, revitalization, and reclamation. The syntactic descriptions are more in depth than other areas of grammar. The goals of this chapter are (1) to provide discussions of linguistic topics potentially useful in revitalization work, (2) to share descriptions and terminology with language learners, instructors, and scholars to support their work, (3) to support access to the range of linguistic resources developed over the past 150–200 years, and (4) to provide some current references.

Author’s positionality: Leslie Saxon is the child and grandchild of settlers in Canada from Scotland, Ireland, England, and Hungary. She grew up in different towns of southern Canada and, as the first person in her family to go to university, attended the University of Toronto. There she was introduced to the linguistics of Dene languages by Keren Rice and to the study of syntax by Elizabeth Cowper. She completed her PhD in linguistics at the University of California, San Diego, under the direction of Sandra Chung. As an undergraduate student Leslie was fortunate to work as a research assistant with Keren in Dene linguistics and visited Dene communities on the Mackenzie River and on Great Bear Lake and Great Slave Lake. Since that time, she has continued linguistic work in the Northwest Territories, particularly in the Tłı̨ chǫ region, and with Dene and non-Dene researchers on topics in linguistics, ethnobotany, anthropology, discourse studies, and Indigenous language revitalization. She taught with Memorial University of Newfoundland, Aurora College, and in 2020 retired from the University of Victoria. She has continued her collaborative work with communities in the Northwest Territories into her retirement. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-039

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39.1 Dene territories and worldview The Indigenous lands of Dene people1 are widely spread over the western parts of North America. We can hear Dene languages spoken in villages in Alaska and eastward to Hudson Bay, in Los Angeles, Tucson, New York, Seattle, Vancouver, Toronto, Saskatoon, and Edmonton, in First Nations communities from British Columbia to Manitoba, and on Tribal Nations along the Pacific coast and in the American Southwest. In each area a distinctive speech pattern grew up, yet the languages reveal their shared heritage as Dene languages through similarities of sounds, word shapes, and concepts expressed. Although Dene people reside in cities, towns, and territories at great distances from each other, the kinship of the language communities is very clear between neighbours: speakers of Diné bizaad dialects understand each other, as do speakers of Dene languages of the Northwest Territories and northern provinces of Canada. People across Dene territories might recognize the word for ‘water’, ‘smoke’, ‘rope’, ‘eye’, or ‘arm’ in another people’s language, and know a way to say ‘it’s big’, or ‘give it to me’ that they can recognize in another person’s speech. The Dene Languages Conference (https://www. uaf.edu/alc/) meets regularly for discussions of linguistic, educational, philosophical, and cultural themes relating to the languages and their communities. Through their shared histories and perspectives, Dene peoples in a number of locations have formed organizations to advocate for, promote, and defend their Indigenous rights, languages, and ways of life. Among these are the Arctic Athabaskan Council (Alaska, Yukon, Northwest Territories), the Gwich’in Council International (Alaska, Yukon, Northwest Territories), the Council of Yukon First Nations, and the Dene Nation (Northwest Territories). A movement to reunify all Dene peoples has taken shape and in 2019 attracted leaders from many corners of the Dene world to the Dené Reunification Conference in Calgary, hosted by the Tsúut’ínà Nation. These movements are ongoing in the broader context of language reclamation in North America and more widely (see Henne–Ochoa et al 2020 and related responses to their article). Storytellers, writers, poets, filmmakers, and artists of all types use art in expressing worldview. Similarly, Dene researchers have expressed their worldviews in writing 1 Note on the family name: Using the word “Dene” for a language family of North America, also called “Athabaskan”, dates back to at least 1876 when the French-speaking missionary linguist Émile Petitot published a dictionary and grammar of the languages of northwestern Canada, Dictionnaire de la langue dènè-dinjié. The word dene, or a variant, means ‘person’ or ‘people’ in several languages. In both community and academic uses, “Dene” has come to be used more than “Athabaskan”, a word deriving from Cree. For example, the Indian Brotherhood of the Northwest Territories adopted the name “Dene N ­ ation” in 1978. “Dene” was adopted in 2012 for the ongoing series of annual Dene Languages Conferences. Because “Dene” is used both for the language family and for particular languages of the family, in this chapter the term “Mackenzie Valley Dene” is used to refer to the language of the Dene people of the Mackenzie River valley including the NWT and parts of Yukon, Alberta, and British Columbia, also called “Slave” or “Slavey”. “Dëne” refers to Dëne Sųłiné, Denesųłiné, Dëne Sǫłıné, Tetsǫ́ t’ıné, and Dëne Dédlıné, also called “Chipewyan”.



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about their languages and their approach to language reclamation. Dene Kede (Government of the Northwest Territories 1993, 2003) is a curriculum document produced by Dene educators and researchers in the Northwest Territories in the 1990s, emphasizing the connections among worldview, land, spirituality, and language. The Diné language textbook Diné Bizaad Bínáhoo’aah: Rediscovering the Navajo Language (Parsons-Yazzie and Speas 2007) has the same quality. Two important works on worldview from a Diné perspective are papers by Martha Austin-Garrison, Bernice Casaus, Daniel McLaughlin, and Clay Slate on ‘Diné Bizaad Yissohígíí: The Past, Present, and Future of Navajo Literacy’ (1996), and by Oswald Werner, Martha Austin-Garrison, and Kenneth Begishe ‘On the importance of “thought” in Navajo philosophy’ (1996). Testimony to the Kaska and Dene Sųłiné worldview and way of life is found in Dene Gudeji: Kaska Narratives (Moore ed. 1999), stories from Kaska Elders, and stories from Dene Sųłiné Elders in Dillon, Saskatchewan, Benasní: I Remember (Holden ed. 2013). Other recent studies include graduate theses and projects with a focus on language and worldview, including work by Tsilhqot’in scholar Linda R. Smith (2005, 2008, 2011), Kaska Dene scholar Gillian Farnell (2014), Tahltan scholars Edōsdi Judith Thompson (2012), Kāshā Julie Morris (2017), and Odelia Dennis (2020), Dene scholars of the Northwest Territories Phoebe Nahanni (1992), Fibbie Tatti (2015), and Laura Tutcho (2016), and Tłı̨ chǫ scholar Rosa Mantla (2017). Jaeci Hall’s (2021) dissertation brings an Indigenous worldview to work in Nuu-wee-ya’ language revitalization in southern Oregon. The theses by Linda R. Smith and Fibbie Tatti focus on Tsilhqot’in and Sahtúot’ı̨ ne spirituality in relation to stories that have shaped their communities and the lives of their people.

39.2 Movements in language maintenance, ­revitalization, and reclamation In some Dene speech communities children are learning their languages in their homes. There is documentation of community processes surrounding language reclamation (among others, see Meek 2007, 2010, 2018; and Klein, Lovick, and Jung 2017) and of ­children’s and adults’ language learning (Foster et al 1989; Saville-Troike 1996; Chee 2007, 2017; Meek 2018; Hellwig and Jung 2020). See Chee and Henke’s (this volume) extensive survey of research about children’s first language acquisition of North American languages, including Dene languages. Throughout Dene territories speech communities are active, as are individual people and educators, in broadening the base of who speaks the language and in what contexts (Parsons-Yazzie 1995; Peterson 1997; Arviso and Holm 2001; Moore 2003; Sikorski 2008; Lee 2007, 2009; Carr and Meek 2013; Mantla, Koyina Richardson, and Saxon 2017; Bommelyn and Tuttle 2018; Taff et al 2018; McDonald 2019; Peter 2019; Pete 2020; Hall 2021). For a valuable overview of decolonial strategies in language pedagogy for Indigenous communities and families, see Chew, Leonard, and Rosenblum (this volume).

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Groups of language activists and learners, most of them young people, have taken to social media to promote and use the language for day-to-day communication, as with the Facebook and Twitter groups ‘Speak Tahltan to me’, ‘Speak to me in Dehcho Dene Zhatie’, ‘Speak Tłı̨ chǫ To Me’, ‘Speak Gwich’in To Me’, and ‘Navajo Language (Diné Bizaad)’. Language apps and digital language programming for Dene languages come in a wide variety of forms: for example, First Voices (https://www.firstvoices.com/home) offers websites for communities to archive and share resources for language learning, including options to engage younger learners. See the site for Witsuwit’en at: https:// www.firstvoices.com/explore/FV/sections/Data/Athabascan/Witsuwit%E2%80%99en/ Witsuwit%E2%80%99en. Radio stations in many communities produce daily broadcasts of Dene-language news, weather, stories, speeches, songs, and other content, often with interviews and call-in shows as means for bringing many voices to listeners. The Diné-English radio station KTNN (http://www.ktnnonline.com/) and CKLB of the Native Communications Society of the NWT (https://cklbradio.com/) are two such stations. The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, in addition to broadcasting live in Dene languages (and other Indigenous languages) on CBC North, in 2017 hired teams of interpreters to prepare decades of radio interviews for archiving and public access (https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/ north/cbc-indigenous-archiving-project-1.5155932). In the arts there is a current of focussed attention on Indigenous-language productions, in song, literary works, and film, both in professional venues and on YouTube. Among the artists bringing their creations forth in Dene languages are Rex Lee Jim, Laura Tohe, and Orlando White (poetry; Diné), DigaWolf (song; Tłı̨ chǫ), Diyet (song; Southern Tutchone), Richard Van Camp (film, oratorio, story; Tłı̨ chǫ), Amos Scott (film; Tłı̨ chǫ), and Helen Haig-Brown (film; Tsilhqot’in). In addition to arts and community-supported media, Dene language maintenance, revitalization, and reclamation is moving forward through community-based language and culture immersion programs for children, youth, and adults, and other language and culture learning opportunities on the land, in communities, and through school and university partnerships in several jurisdictions. The recognition of Indigenous languages under Bill 216 Official Languages of the State (Alaska, 2014) and the Indigenous Languages Act (Canada, 2019) gave long-sought legislative support to the unceasing initiatives of community language leaders. Important archives of Dene language and culture materials can be found at the Alaska Native Language Archive and the Northwest Territories (NWT) Archive, among other sites.

39.3 Documentation of Dene stories From the time of Petitot (1886, 1888—resources available on-line) and continuing to the present, many collections of stories in Dene languages and/or English translations



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have been produced, in print and digital formats. Many of these come through the lens of western academia, but they are increasingly produced by Dene people and organizations. Some more recent works include access to audio of the original oral tellings of stories. The Alaska Native Language Center has published many works by Dene storytellers and knowledge keepers (https://www.uaf.edu/anlc/research-and-resources/publications. php), including Shem Pete’s Alaska: The Territory of the Upper Cook Inlet Dena’ina (2016 [1987]; bilingual edition with audio CD); Bakk’aatʉgh ts’ʉhʉniy = Stories we live by: traditional Koyukon Athabaskan stories, by Catherine Attla (1989; bilingual edition); Ahtna Travel Narratives: A Demonstration of Shared Geographic Knowledge among Alaska Athabascans (2010; bilingual edition with audio CD) by Jim McKinley and others; Cora David’s collection of stories Teedląy t’iin naholndak niign: Stories by the Tetlin People (2011; bilingual edition with audio CD); Yenida’a Tah, Tsu’utsaede, K’adiide / Mythical Times, Ancient Times, Recent Times: An Anthology of Ahtna Narratives (2018; bilingual edition with audio CD); and Avis Sam, Sherry Damit-Barnes, and Darlene Northway’s Ts’exeey iin Naabia Niign xah nahiholnegn: Women tell stories about Northway (2021; bilingual edition). Among many other works that could not all be listed are a four-part collection of Apache stories edited by Pliny E. Goddard (1918–1920; bilingual editions); Chipewyan Texts by François Mandeville (1978; bilingual edition, also presented in a 2009 English edition); Nahecho keh: Our elders (1987; bilingual edition with photographs by Tessa McIntosh), a collection of stories by people from Fort Providence, NWT who lived through the 1918–1920 influenza epidemic; Life Lived Like a Story: Life Stories of Three Yukon Native Elders (1990); stories from Dene people of northern Alberta, Wolverine Myths and Visions (1990; bilingual edition); from the Kaska First Nation, Dene Gudeji: Kaska Narratives (1999; bilingual edition); Johnny Frank and Sarah Frank’s Neerihiinjìh: We Travelled from Place to Place (2001; bilingual edition with audio CD); stories by the Elders of Tsiigehtshik, Gwichya Gwich’in Googwandak: the history and stories of the Gwichya Gwich’in (2007); Benasni-I Remember: Dëne Su̜łiné Oral Histories with Morphological Analysis (2013; bilingual edition); and from the Tłı̨ chǫ Government, A Collection of Tłı̨ chǫ Stories from Long Ago: Tłı̨ chǫ Whaèhdǫǫ̀ Godıı ̀ Ełexè Whela (2018; bilingual edition). The Diné Reader (2021) is a ground-breaking anthology of Diné writings. It includes suggestions for those studying Diné literature and documents the history of Diné creative writing from its beginnings.

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39.4 Linguistic properties of Dene languages: Some grammatical resources2 The oral traditions of Dene people going back many centuries have been known and told in the beautifully explicit and nuanced forms of the Dene languages. The languages share many commonalities in their sound systems, word structures, sentence patterns, and semantics due to their shared history as a language family; traditions of stories and ways of life are shared also. This chapter outlines linguistic properties, with the thought that the information is potentially useful no matter which of the Dene languages someone is interested in, because the patterns are found again and again across boundaries of time and space. Those studying Dene languages will find valuable resources in a number of substantial grammars of individual languages. These include Carrier (Morice 1932), Hupa (Golla 1970), Tsúut’ínà (Cook 1984), Mackenzie Valley Dene/Slave (Rice 1989), Tanacross (Holton 2001), Kaska (Moore 2002), Dëne Sųłiné (Cook 2004), Western Apache (San Carlos varieties) (de Reuse and Goode 2006), Witsuwit’en (Hargus 2007), Diné bizaad (Parsons-Yazzie and Speas 2007), Tsilhqot’in (Cook 2013), Wailaki (Begay 2017), ­Tetsǫ́ t’ıné (Jaker and Cardinal 2020), Upper Tanana (Lovick 2020b, to appear), Nuu-wee-ya’ (Hall 2021), and the extended grammar sections in dictionaries of Dene-Dinjii languages of the Northwest Territories of Canada (Petitot 1876), Diné bizaad (Young and Morgan 1989) and Koyukon (Jetté and Jones 2000), and in the collection of stories in Dëne Sųłiné edited by Josh Holden (2013).3 (Not all available references can be included here.) In addition, there are a number of articles surveying properties of Dene languages4 which complement the present article, including Sapir 1915; Krauss 1973; Krauss and Golla 1981; Rice and Cook 1989; the chapter on Dene languages in Mithun 1999; Cook 2003; Hargus 2010, 2011; Rice and de Reuse 2017; and Jaker, Welch, and Rice 2019. 2 The abbreviations used in the glosses are as follows. Because authors use different sets of abbreviations, there may be two abbreviations for the same gloss. 1, 2, 3=first, second, third person, 3pl>3sg=third person plural subject acting on third person singular object, ar=areal, att=attitude verb, caus= causative, comp=complementizer, cop=copula, cust=customary, d=D classifier, da=Diné bizaad negative enclitic, dim=diminutive, dual=involving two people, epi=epistemic modal, evid=evidential, foc=focus, fut=future, incept=inceptive, inch=inchoative, indf=indefinite, imprf=imperfective, ipv=imperfective, it=iterative, m=modal, n=n-conjugation marker, neg=negative, negex=negative existential, n-fact=factive nominalizer, nom=nominalizer, NP=noun phrase, o=object, opt=optative, pfv=perfective, perf=perfective, perm=permissive tense, pl=plural, poss=possessed, prog=progressive, PP=postpositional phrase, prs=possessor, pst=past, s=subject, sg=singular, thm=thematic prefix, vcn=verb class marker ne-, VP=verb phrase. I have not altered examples except to add morpheme glosses, for which I take responsibility. For third person pronouns in Dene languages, which refer to a person without reference to gender, I have retained the use of ‘he’, ‘she’, ‘he/she’, etc as in the original source. On glossing for Dene languages, see Hargus, Lovick, and Tuttle 2019. 3 In the text, abbreviations are used for some published sources, detailed in full in the references. 4 Some of these surveys cover the larger grouping that includes Eyak and Tlingit, relatives of the languages of the Dene language family.



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Examples in this chapter are shown in the community writing system as reflected in dictionaries and references, or as in the original source. Care must be taken in interpreting the phonetic value of orthographic symbols especially when languages are being closely compared.

39.5 Sound systems Much has been learned about Dene language sound systems through study of language histories done by researchers at the Alaska Native Language Center and elsewhere starting especially in the 1960s. In Dene languages today we observe relatively large inventories of consonants; relatively small inventories of vowels; prosodic properties of tone, vowel nasalization and vowel length; and a range of processes affecting both vowels and consonants in proximity to each other. Table 1 shows the consonant inventory of Minto Lower Tanana (Tuttle 2009: xii) in the Minto orthography. Tab. 1: Consonant inventory of Minto Lower Tanana (orthographic representation) (Tuttle 2009: xii) Place of articulation

labial

interdental

lateral

apical

retroflex

alveopalatal

velar

glottal

b          m   

ddh tth tth’ th dh    

dl tl tl’ ł  l     

dz ts ts’ s  z  n  (nh)

dr tr tr’ sr zr    

j  ch ch’ sh   y  (yh)

gh k  k’ kh gh    

’      h       

  Manner of articulation

plain stop aspirated stop glottalized stop voiceless fricative voiced fricative voiced sonorant voiceless sonorant

Minto has a consonant inventory similar to other Dene languages, with groups of consonants pronounced at the same place of articulation or the same manner of articulation. Minto has eight places of articulation; other languages have six, seven, or eight (not necessarily the same ones as Minto) depending on linguistic changes over time. The languages of the family contrast plain and aspirated stops with glottalized ones, and voiced and voiceless fricatives. In Minto the voiceless sonorants (in brackets) cannot start a word: likewise, across the languages certain consonants or classes of consonants are limited in their positions in words or syllables. Table 2 shows the basic vowel inventory of Witsuwit’en, represented in the IPA.

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Tab. 2: Vowel inventory of Witsuwit’en (IPA) (Hargus 2007: 151) i  e   

  ǝ  a 

u  o   

Witsuwit’en /ǝ/ is a reduced vowel in comparison with the five other full vowels (Hargus 2007: 212); thus Witsuwit’en shows a characteristic like what is reconstructed for early forms of Dene in possessing both of these vowel categories: in addition to different phonetic qualities, full and reduced vowels in Witsuwit’en and other languages show different patterns of occurrence according to their phonological and morphological contexts. Vowels in Witsuwit’en contrast in phonological vowel length (Hargus 2007: 212). (1) shows words with short and long vowels in Witsuwit’en. (1)        

Witsuwit’en short and long vowels contrast (Hargus 2007: 202–204) soɁ ‘well, nicely’ bǝtanec’ǝtasdlił ‘I’ll add to it’ sooɁ ‘no’ bǝtaanec’ǝtasdlił ‘I’ll subtract from it’ udǝlɁɛꭓ ‘she’s learning how’ (ne)tatne ‘he’s drinking water’ uudǝlɁɛꭓ ‘they’re learning how’ (ne)taatne ‘they’re drinking water’

The vowel inventory of Diné bizaad shows two additional vowel contrasts not heard in Witsuwit’en: a contrast between oral and nasal vowels, as seen in Table 3 (adapted from Parsons-Yazzie and Speas 2009) and a contrast in tone. The ogonek symbol  ̨ is used in writing a nasal vowel in Diné bizaad and a number of other Dene languages. Tab. 3: Oral and nasal vowel inventory of Diné bizaad (orthographic representation) (adapted from Parsons-Yazzie and Speas 2009: 3–6)) oral vowels

nasal vowels

i  e 

į ę 

o  a 

ǫ ą

Diné bizaad shows a two-way tonal contrast (see, for example, McDonough 2003), as illustrated by the examples in (2). In Diné bizaad orthography, low tone is unmarked and high tone is marked with an acute accent  ´. (2)    

Diné bizaad tone contrasts (Parsons-Yazzie and Speas 2009: 7–10) doo ‘will’ ni ‘you’ azee’ ‘medicine’ dóó ‘and’ ní ‘he/she said’ azéé’ ‘mouth’

Summing up on vowel systems in Dene languages, the number of contrastive vowel qualities ranges from a low of four (for example, Hupa, Diné bizaad) to a high of six



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(some Mackenzie Valley Dene languages, Dëne Sųłiné, Dakelh), seven (for example, Koyukon, Han, Upper Tanana) (Krauss and Golla 1981: 72), or eight (for example, Tetsǫ́ t’ıné) (Cardinal, Jaker, and Cardinal 2021). Many languages contrast oral and nasal vowels as Diné bizaad does (including Western Apache, Tłı̨ chǫ, Kaska, Dane‑zaa), but some vowel inventories do not include nasal vowels (including Witsuwit’en, Dakelh, Hupa, Ahtna). Likewise, some languages show tonal contrasts—some of these with three or four contrasting tones (tone languages include Diné bizaad, Tanacross, Kaska, Gwich’in, Upper Tanana, and others)—and others do not (Witsuwit’en, Ahtna, Koyukon, Hupa). Uchihara (this volume) provides discussion and references on tone in Dene and other language families. Michael Krauss wrote an important and detailed paper on tone in Dene languages in 1979, published again in 2005 with updates and commentary. Krauss’s article appears in a book on prosody in Dene languages, an important collection edited by Sharon Hargus and Keren Rice (2005) containing ground-breaking research on tone, intonation, stress, and vowel quantity. Lovick and Tuttle (2012) build on their earlier work with a study of prosody in Dena’ina stories. See also Tuttle’s survey of prosody beyond the word (this volume), which includes nuanced discussion of several Dene languages. Researchers of Dene language sound systems have noted many ways consonants and vowels in proximity influence one another. Here are briefly mentioned four types of processes that have been observed in a number of languages, and some references on the topics: vowel and consonant harmony (Hardwick 1984; Rice 1989; McDonough 1990; Shaw 1991; Hansson 2001; Hansson and Moore 2011; Palakurthy 2021); influences of consonants on neighbouring vowels (Cook 1993; Hargus 2007); syllable effects (Causley 1999; Marinakis 2003; Hargus 2005; Lovick 2020b); and voicing contrasts (Rice 1994; Bob 1997; Holton 2001). In recent decades there have been a number of studies of phonetics in Dene languages. For an introduction to this field of research (as well as themes in the study of sound structures), see the invaluable overview of Dene language phonetics and phonology in Hargus 2010.

39.5.1 Song There is not space in this chapter to discuss Dene musical traditions. Still, it is important to recognize how important songs are in Dene linguistic and cultural traditions, and the place songs have in stories. On ets’ulah and their potential in language revitalization, see Tutcho 2016. See also McAllester 1949, 1973; Lundström 1980; Beaudry 1992, 2001; McNamara 1993; Tuttle 2010, 2012; and Tuttle and Lundström 2018, among others, on musical traditions in Dene communities from south to north.

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39.6 Word Structures The simplest words in Dene languages consist of just the root, with no prefixes, suffixes, or other added parts. Most roots (but not all) are one syllable long, as we see in the examples below. (3)            

Sample of basic words (roots) (orthographic representations) Hupa Diné bizaad Tsilhqot’in Dëne Tłı̨ chǫ Koyukon to tó tu tu tı too wha shá sa sa sa so tse tsé tŝi tthe kwe tlaa chwich chizh tsez tsës tso tsets Golla Y&M Smith SSDEC TCSA Jetté&Jones 1996 1989 2011 2014 2005 2000

gloss ‘water’ ‘sun’ ‘stone’ ‘firewood’  

Dictionaries, as references on words, are available for a number of Dene languages, and are the sources for many examples cited throughout this chapter. Dictionaries are available in a range of formats—in print, in CD-ROMs, in apps, or on-line. They show a number of styles of organization, according to the planning, context, and goals of each group of dictionary makers. Some dictionaries have English headwords for primary searching in the dictionary, for example, the Tanacross Learners’ Dictionary (Arnold et al 2009). Others have Dene language headwords, for example, The Navajo Language: A Grammar and Colloquial Dictionary, Revised Edition (Young and Morgan 1989) and Kwadacha bilingual dictionary: Tsek’ene-English and English-Tsek’ene (Hargus et al 2019). Still others have Dene language roots as the headwords, for example, Ahtna Athabaskan Dictionary (Kari 1990). The dictionaries can be organized alphabetically or according to meaning topics, such as ‘animals’, ‘places’, and so on. Many of the dictionaries include different types of listing so that words can be searched in more than one way, as in the Mescalero Apache Dictionary (Breuninger et al 1982), and A Dictionary of the Verbs of South Slavey, Second Edition (Norwegian and Howard 2004). This dictionary has Dehcho Dene verb stems in alphabetical order as the primary means of organizing words, with individual verbs listed alphabetically under each stem. The dictionary also includes an alphabetic listing of head words in Dene, an alphabetic listing of English meanings, and a brief listing of all stems with their core meanings. Smith 2011 is a wordbook for Tsilhqot’in beautifully illustrated with colour photographs. It is organized according to the characteristics and activities of the months of the year, and includes abundant cultural information in quotations and sentences showing the uses of words. On-line dictionaries may include audio, visual, historical, and/or geographical information, significant resources for learners and researchers, and may offer different types of searches. Examples include Witsuwit’en hibikinic: Witsuwit’en-English and English-Witsuwit’en (Witsuwit’en Language and Culture Society 2022; also in print format), the Deg Xinag Learners’ Dictionary (Taff and MacAlpine 2007), the Siletz Dee-ni Online



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Talking Dictionary (Siletz Tribal Language Project 2010–2014), and the Lheidli Dakelh Dictionary (Poser 2020). A worry with on-line resources is that they can become inaccessible as time goes along, though communities and scholars are working to prevent this from happening.

39.6.1 Prefixation and suffixation Because of their potential for sentences expressed in single words, Dene languages are classified as polysynthetic languages. We expect then that word structure can be quite intricate, particularly with verbs. Closely related verbs can be illustrated by paradigms, like the one we see in Table 4, showing the verb ‘scout here and there’ in Western Apache (San Carlos varieties), inflected for all categories of subject participants. (Nouns and postpositions show similar paradigm patterns, inflected according to the possessor of the noun or the object of the postposition.) Tab. 4: Verb paradigm, Western Apache (San Carlos varieties): ‘scout here and there’ (orthographic representation) (de Reuse and Goode 2006: 39) Person of subject

Verb

English translation

1  2  3  1dual 2dual 1plural 2plural 3dual/plural

nashbaah nabaah nabaah nahibaah nałbaah nadahibaah nadałbaah nadabaah

‘I scout here and there’ ‘you scout here and there’ ‘s/he scouts here and there’ ‘we (two) scout here and there’ ‘you (two) scout here and there’ ‘we (plural) scout here and there’ ‘you (plural) scout here and there’ ‘they scout here and there’

Verb structure has been the topic of many studies of individual languages and of the family of languages as a whole. Chee (2017) takes a holistic view of verbs in Diné bizaad in cyclic formation. Keren Rice’s (2000) study presents an essentially semantic view of how verbs in Dene languages are structured. McDonough (1990, 2000) and Hargus and Tuttle (1997) and later works suggest that the core of verbs in Dene languages is a compound combining an inflectional stem together with the verb stem, elaborated further by other categories of prefixes. Kari (1989), Speas (1990), Faltz (1998), Young (2000), Hale (2001), Chee (2017), Jaker and Cardinal (2020), and others present a range of views of verbs in Diné bizaad and other Dene languages and show how the forms and meanings of categories of prefixes influence their ordering and appearance in verbs. In addition to this kind of work, a number of studies exist showing how computer programs can “learn” verbal paradigms in Dene languages, potentially giving insights for human language learners and teachers (Arppe et al 2017; Lovick et al 2018).

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Below are illustrative examples of verbs in Dene languages and their structures. The examples show two or more prefixes, many of them portmanteau morphemes bundling a number of semantic elements. Final within the verb word, the verb stem (bolded) itself takes a particular form dependent on tense, aspect, or modality. In some languages, verb stems also differ for positive or negative meaning. (4)                                                  

Sample verbs and their structures a. Upper Tanana (Northway dialect) (Lovick 2020b: 73)   nanishshyah     na- nishshyah   it n.pfv:1sg.s:d sg.go:pfv   ‘I came back’ b. Dehcho Dene (Rice 1989: 965; interlinearization added)   kǫdéhtlah déhtlah   kǫ  out.it pfv:3sg.s:d sg.go:pfv   ‘s/he went back out’ c. Witsuwit’en (Hargus 2007: 345; interlinearization added)   lemǝdec bǝztałɁǝł   lemǝdec bǝztałɁǝł   potato 3sg.o 1pl.s fut caus eat:fut   ‘we’ll feed him potatoes’ d. Hupa (Golla 1985: 41; interlinearization added)   no:ya:ch’o:tiwh   no:ya:- ch’o:tiwh   down pl.s 3:human.s perm handle_sticklike_object:indf   ‘let them put it [a sticklike object] down’ e. Koyukon (Jetté and Jones 2000: 116; interlinearization added)   heyek’oneedaatl   heyek’oneedaatl   3pl:human.s 3sg.o away n.pfv pl.go:pfv   ‘they went away from him’

The verb stem variation signalled by the glosses in the examples above (for example, Witsuwit’en Ɂǝł ‘eat:fut’ and Koyukon daatl ‘pl.go:pfv’) has been the subject of extensive research since the important work of Jeff Leer (1979) reconstructing the system of verbal suffixation and ablaut in earlier forms of Dene. The dictionaries and grammars of many current-day Dene languages describe the patterns of verb stem variation and present sets of verb words or stems for each verbal root. What Jeff Leer found is that stem variants differ from each other in terms of aspect. ‘Aspect’ as a grammatical term covers time dimensions of events, such as whether an event is ongoing or completed, whether it is an event containing sub-events, or whether it has started or is only contemplated. ‘Perfective’, for example, refers to an event viewed



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as completed. The terms ‘perfective’, ‘imperfective’, ‘momentaneous’, ‘customary’, and several more, are commonly used for aspectual categories in studies of Dene languages. Many of the terms are widely used in descriptions of aspect in other languages too. The Witsuwit’en verbs shown below (the verb stems are bolded) illustrate some of the range of meanings expressible through verb stem variation: the verb root means ‘pick (berries)’. (5)              

Witsuwit’en verbs illustrating the stem set for yin ‘pick (berries)’ (Hargus 2007) c’onəsyin ‘I’m picking (berries)’ (imperfective, page 765) c’onisyin’ ‘I picked, I have been picking’ (perfective, page 782) c’ontasyił ‘I’m going to pick’ (future, page 791) c’onusyin’ ‘I should pick’ (optative, page 792) wec’onəzəsyin’ ‘I’m not picking, I haven’t picked’ (imperfective negative, page 801) wec’ontəzisyitl ‘I’m not going to pick’ (future negative, page 806) wec’onəzusyin’ ‘I shouldn’t pick’ (optative negative, page 807)

As we see, it is not just the stem that changes to form a different aspect: there are additional patterns among prefixes which support the aspectual contrasts in stems. The Diné bizaad dictionary (Young and Morgan 1989) provides a set of verbs at the beginning of each verb’s listing. Below is shown the set for the verb meaning ‘go on a quest’. Each word expresses a first person singular subject, so the items below translate as ‘I go on a quest’, ‘I went on a quest’, ‘I will go on a quest’, and so on. (6)          

Diné bizaad verbs illustrating the stem set for tá ‘go on a quest’ (Young and Morgan 1989: 565) nanishtá (imperfective) nanétą́ ą́’ (perfective) ndı́néeshtaał (future) nanóshta’ (optative) náánı́shtaah (repetitive)

In some reference works, the listing for each verb root includes the entire stem set, with verbs illustrating each stem variant provided after the stem set. We see a representative stem set in Table 5, for the Koyukon root zeeł ‘shout’. Tab. 5: Koyukon stem set for the root zeeł ‘shout’ (Jetté and Jones 2000: 729)  

imperfective

perfective

future

optative

reversative momentaneous multiple customary neuter

zeł zeeł zeeł zeyhtl zeł

zeeł zeeł

zeł zełtl

zeł zeeł

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 Leslie Saxon

The resources for each individual language can be checked to determine how stem set terms are used in that reference, and how the patterns of suffixation, ablaut, and consonant changes are realized. Nouns and postpositions in Dene languages can be prefixed too, though the range of prefixal meanings expressed with nouns and postpositions is more restricted. In (7) we see prefixes expressing the possessors of nouns and the objects of postpositions in Tłı̨ chǫ. The noun and postposition stems are bolded. (7)        

Prefixed nouns and postpositions in Tłı̨ chǫ (Tłı̨ chǫ Community Services Agency 2005–) semǫ gıbehtsı̨ ı̨ ̀ semǫ gıbehtsı̨ ı̨ ̀ 1sg mother 3pl vehicle ‘my mother’ ‘their vehicle’

       

wet’à we- t’à 3sg with ‘with it’

nek’e ne- k’e 2sg on ‘on you’

Although suffixation is used less than prefixation in Dene languages, there are a number of types of suffixes that are identified across all of the languages of the family: for example, suffixes on numerals indicate what type of object is being counted, suffixes on verbs (and other parts of speech) form nominal and adverbial expressions, and the suffix on nouns forms possessive patterns. The first type is exemplified by the suffix -t in Witsuwit’en. (8)        

Witsuwit’en suffix -t ‘number of times’ (Hargus 2007: 327) net ‘twice’ (cf. neq ‘two’) tat ‘three times’ (cf. taq’əy ‘three’) dit ‘four times’ (cf. dinc’əy ‘four’) wənizet ‘ten times’ (cf. wənize ‘ten’)

The second type is exemplified by the triples of words from Tłı̨ chǫ shown in Table 6. The lengthened vowel without tone creates nominalizations; the lengthened vowel with tone creates adverbials. Tab. 6: Tłı̨ chǫ noun-forming and adverb-forming suffixes (Tłı̨ chǫ Community Services Agency 2007/2010) verb nominalization adverb

nezı̨ nezı̨ı̨ nezı̨ı̨ ̀

‘it is good’ ‘the one that is good’ ‘in a good way; well’

ezeh ezee ezeè

‘he/she is shouting’ ‘the one that is shouting’ ‘by shouting’



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The two suffixes in Tłı̨ chǫ take a prosodic form without any additional consonant or vowel: in other languages, Tsúut’ínà, for example, the suffixes may be realized otherwise, as in íyìsnìh-í ‘the one who is pushing’ (Cook 1984: 71) and yīyáł-gú ‘the way he walks’ (Cook 1984: 91). A third type of suffix is used in possessed nouns,5 often in conjunction with the possessive prefixes mentioned above. (9)    

Nouns and their possessed forms (the noun stem is bolded) Ahtna (Kari 1990: 365) tl’uuł ‘rope, string’ łitl’uule’ Dena’ina (Kari 2007: xxiv) hał ‘pack’ -ghala

 

Koyukon (Jetté and Jones 2000: 600) Minto Lower Tanana (Tuttle 2009: 177) Nuu-wee-ya’ (Hall 2021: 258) Hupa (Golla 1996: 95)

     

tl’enh

‘bone’

betl’en

‘dog leash’ ‘pack (possessed)’ ‘its bone’

ak

‘shirt’

be’aga’

‘his shirt’

nn-ta whiwo’

‘your father’ ‘my teeth’

(always possessed) (always possessed)

As we see in the first examples, the noun stem itself may be slightly altered with the addition of the suffix, mostly in ways that are predictable within a given language. The last two examples are nouns that are always possessed: across Dene languages, this group includes kinship terms, parts of the body of people and other living things, and some other terms (in particular languages, such things as ‘name’, ‘soul’, ‘trail’, or ‘friend’). Other items are not found in possessed forms (for example, types of non-human animals), and are usually considered as things that cannot be possessed (see Thompson 1996; Lovick 2020b: 330  f ). Affixation, including portmanteau morphemes and morphemes expressed through prosody, is rich in Dene languages, both in terms of the forms and the meanings conveyed.

39.6.2 Compounding and incorporation Dene languages show patterns of word formation in which two or more roots or stems appear in a single word. With nouns and postpositions these are termed compound words; with verbs, the second stem is said to be incorporated into the verb. Compounding is a very productive way to form nouns in all of the Dene languages— every dictionary contains bountiful examples. Depending on the language or the word, compounds may be spelled as a single word without spaces (with or without hyphens), 5 Most sources note that “possessed” is not fully accurate, since it is not true that we possess our sisters or our backbone; nevertheless, this term is commonly used. See Thompson (1996) and Saxon and Wilhelm (2016) for detailed studies of possession in some Dene languages.

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 Leslie Saxon

or the spelling may include spaces between each root or stem. Compounding is commonly used for identifying sub-types of a category of things in Dene languages. For example, types of buildings, such as schools, gyms, restaurants, or banks, might be compound words, with different expressions modifying the word for ‘building’. Rice (2009) is an important study of compounding in Mackenzie Valley Dene. See (10) for exemplification of compound nouns in Tsilhqot’in, Dena’ina, Diné bizaad, and Tetsǫ́ t’ıné yatıé. The head noun is the last element of the compound (bolded). (10)                                

Compound words a. Tsilhqot’in compound nouns (Smith 2011)   Aldzi-Za qi-tl’ax mus-tsinsh undziny-tl’ul   aldzi-za qi-tl’ax mus-tsinsh undziny-tl’ul   moon-month moccasin-under moose-nose strawberry-rope   ‘November’ ‘sole of moccasin’ ‘moosenose’ ‘strawberry runners’ b. Dena’ina compound nouns based on k’eliga ‘song’: types of songs (Kari 2007: 302)   ch’enlahi k’eliga ‘gambling song’ ch’enlahi ‘stick gambling’   dghili k’eliga ‘mountain song’ dghili ‘mountain’   shesh k’eliga ‘protection song’ shesh ‘health’   sukdu k’eliga ‘story song’ sukdu ‘story’ c. Diné bizaad compound nouns with first element béésh ‘metal, knife, iron’ (Young and Morgan 1989: 166–168)   béésh ’ásaa’ ‘metal container’ ’ásaa’ ‘container’   béésh bitiin ‘railroad’ bitiin ‘its road’   bééshtł’ééł ‘steel (for making fire)’ -tł’ééł ‘igniter’   bééshtsah ‘steel awl’ tsah ‘awl’ d. Tetsǫ́ t’ıné yatıé nouns with verbal phrases as the first element and dëné ‘person’ as the second (Cardinal, Jaker, and Cardinal 2021) dënetthı́ghá k’et’ät́ h dëné ‘barber’ ́ ‘cuts people’s hair’ dënetthı́ghá k’et’äth hanı detł’ís dëné hanı detł’ís

‘author’ ‘writes stories’

t’asíe senałɂı̨ ́ dëné t’asíe senałɂı̨ ́

‘repairman’ ‘fixes things’

ts’eret’áı k’élní dëné ts’eret’áı k’élní

‘pilot’ ‘drives airplanes’

It is not difficult to find examples of a compound word that contains a smaller compound word, such as the word in Dëne Dédliné for a person’s ankle bone, dënekechëntth’ën, which is literally ‘person’s ankle bone’. This word is built from the word for ‘ankle’, dënekechëné, literally ‘person’s foot stem’ (South Slave Divisional Educational Council



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2012: 195). More examples come in the compounded place names from the Teetl’it dialect of Gwich’in listed below. Each name has three parts to it. The head noun is bolded. (11)

Three-part place names / compound nouns in Gwich’in (Teetl’it dialect) (Gwich’in Social and Cultural Institute 2003) Gwich’in name Head noun English name Khaii Lùk Van khaii lùk van ‘Travaillant Lake’ ‘winter fish lake’ ‘winter’ ‘fish’ ‘lake’ Chii Naagaii Njik chii naagaii njik ‘Whitestone River’ ‘stone beads river’ ‘stone’ ‘beads’ ‘river’ Ddhah Diik’ee Njik ddhah diik’ee njik ‘Mountain Creek’ ‘mountain gun river’ ‘mountain’ ‘gun’ ‘river’

A number of sources comment on or list compound postpositions. The Tłı̨ chǫ compound postposition ‑nı̨̨ ets’ǫ̀ ‘in among; during’ (TCSA 2005–) is a typical example. It looks to be composed from the postpositional roots -nı̨̨ ‘among, in’ plus -ts’ǫ̀ ‘towards’—although the compound meaning cannot be predicted exactly from the meanings of the roots. For discussions of this topic in Tsúut’ínà, see Cook 1984: 191; for Mackenzie Valley Dene, see Rice 1989: 269–315; for Diné bizaad, see Young and Morgan 1989: 26–27 (grammar); and for Upper Tanana, see Lovick 2020b: 173–209. ‘Incorporation’ is the term used for the inclusion of an additional stem within a verb. Axelrod (1990) describes patterns in Koyukon that can also be observed in other languages in which stem incorporation is found. In the examples from Koyukon, Upper Tanana, and Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ in (12), the two stems are bolded, and the incorporated stem is identified to the right. (12)                              

Verbs showing stem incorporation, with stems identified a. Koyukon (Axelrod 1990: 182, 184)   yedok’ekk’ʉtlneeyo k’ekk’ʉtl ‘cold air’   ‘cold air rushed in (when the door opened)’   benotseł’eedetlaakk tseł ‘wet’   ‘s/he came home soaking wet’ b. Upper Tanana (Lovick 2020b: 44, 47)   natätjettiin tät ‘cane’   ‘she walked with cane’   nasaa’įį’ąą saa ‘sun’   ‘the sun set’ c. Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ (Rice 1989: 656, 660)   nátsedewe tse ‘cry’   ‘s/he stands crying’   tekwíyę́chu kwí ‘head’   ‘s/he puts his/her head in the water’

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 Leslie Saxon

As with compound nouns, incorporation spells out a sub-type of action: putting your head in the water is a sub-type of putting something in the water. While noun compounding is found in all Dene languages, incorporation is not.

39.7 Structure of phrases and sentences Verbs in Dene languages can express the complete sense of a sentence, yet there is much more to say about the possibilities for the structure of sentences and other phrases. This section on Dene language syntax starts with an overview of parts of speech in phrasal context and continues with discussion of head-final properties of phrases in Dene languages, for example, how the verb comes as the last word in a verb phrase. We have already mentioned five parts of speech in Dene languages: nouns, verbs, postpositions, adverbs, and numerals. To these we can add demonstratives, directionals, adjectives, conjunctions, complementizers, modals, sentence-final particles, and interjections. All of these categories are commonly defined in terms of their semantic characteristics, as in saying that nouns name people, places, and things: this is how the parts of speech will be introduced in this section. Occasionally the grammatical category of a word does not match its semantics. As one of these uncommon examples, consider the Tłı̨ chǫ word goı̨ nàà, translated as ‘we are happy’ (Tłįchǫ Community Services Agency 2005–). We might think, from its meaning, that it is a verb or adjective, but it functions like a noun in its morphological patterning, using go-, the 1pl possessive prefix to mean ‘we’, rather than ts’e-, the 1pl subject prefix. In all Dene languages, verbs, nouns, and postpositions inflect to show the participants involved, and verbs also inflect to indicate aspectual and modal meanings, as noted earlier. As a rule, none of the other parts of speech inflect, but occur in only one form regardless of the participants involved in an event.

39.7.1 Nouns, plus demonstratives Nouns in Dene languages have a number of grammatical properties in common: (1) nouns can combine in noun phrases with a demonstrative like ‘this’ or ‘that’ or a numeral (or other type of quantifying term), (2) can be modified by a descriptor, and (3) can take a possessed form. A noun by itself can function as a complete noun phrase, as there are no articles in Dene languages translating as English ‘the’ or ‘a’. Therefore a noun like Dëne yeh ‘house’ can be interpreted as ‘a house’, ‘the house’, or as plural ‘houses’ or ‘the houses’ (Wilhelm 2008). Below are examples illustrating properties of nouns and noun phrases in a number of languages. (13) shows noun phrases with one or more modifiers. The noun is bolded.



(13)                                                  

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Noun phrases with modifiers a. Western Apache (San Carlos varieties) (de Reuse and Goode 2006: 117; interlinearization added)   ai nabil   ai nabil   that car   ‘that car’ b. Dëne Sųłiné (example selected from Sophie Chanalquay’s story in Holden 2013: 50)   ediri įłághe chelekwaze   ediri one boy.dim   this įłághe chelekwaze   ‘this one young man’ c. Tsilhqot’in (Smith 2011: 51; interlinearization added)   ts’iqi tan   ts’iqi tan   woman three   ‘three women’ d. Minto Lower Tanana (Tuttle 2009: 162; interlinearization added)   neldegi delk’ezri   neldegi delk’ezri   pencil red   ‘a red pencil’ e. Ahtna (Kari 1990: 253; interlinearization added)   k’ay’ tadaltsedi   k’ay’ tadaltsedi   willow set_in_water   ‘diamond willow’ (literally, ‘willow that is set in water’)

Demonstratives share some of the properties of nouns and are found in all Dene languages; according to language, their meanings may include notions of closeness or distance from the speaker, whether the thing is human or not, or whether the thing is in sight. In sentences demonstratives can function as complete noun phrases. An Ahtna example is given in (14). (14)        

Demonstrative as noun phrase (the demonstrative is bolded) Ahtna (Kari 1900: 208; interlinearization added) ghani natdaghałigi ghani natdaghałigi that 3sg.s.fut.drop:sg.might ‘he might drop that’

894 

 Leslie Saxon

Within a noun phrase, a demonstrative comes before the noun if there is one, as in the first two examples in (13). Other types of modifiers (for example, numerals or descriptors) come before or after the noun, depending on what type of modifier it is and depending on the language. (15) adds to the examples above with a small number of sentences showing how nouns and noun phrases function as subjects, objects, complements, and and adjuncts in sentences. The nouns are bolded, and sentence subjects are underlined. (15)                                  

Nouns and noun phrases as subjects, objects, complements, and adjuncts in sentences a. Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ (Rice 1989: 1336–1337)   Goweri wha deneke beká t’á zǫ ɂekwę́ łakehdee.   Goweri wha deneke beká t’á zǫ ɂekwę́   area.before long person.pl spear by only caribou   łakehdee.   3pl.ipv.kill_pl.cust   ‘Long ago people used to kill caribou only with spears’ b. Upper Tanana (Tetlin dialect) (Lovick 2020b: 504)   shnąą ts’iiniin nłįį.   shnąą ts’iiniin nłįį.   1sg.prs.mother child 3sg.s:ø.pfv:ø.be:ipv   ‘my mother was a child’ c. Witsuwit’en (Hargus 2007: 306)   dǝni nǝɁas ts’ǝyeni łootaɁǝs   dǝni nǝɁas ts’ǝyeni łootaɁǝs   feast hall everyone they will gather, meet   ‘Everyone will gather in the feast hall’

Pronouns are a distinctive type of noun, the words we use when referring to ourselves and those we are talking to or talking about, for example, Western Apache (San Carlos varieties) shīī ‘me’, nēē ‘us’, nih ‘you (one person), nohwīī ‘you (more than one person)’ (de Reuse and Goode 2006: 52). Since people usually convey who is doing what to whom through inflections on verbs and other words, pronouns are typically used as topical or contrastive terms, as in the examples from Upper Tanana and Koyukon below. Pronouns are bolded. (16)          

Pronouns used in topical and contrastive contexts a. Upper Tanana (Northway dialect) (Lovick 2020b: 277)   … ay iin ch’ale hu’eh ihdaagn.   …  ay iin ch’ale hu’eh ihdaagn.     3sg pl foc 3pl:with 1sg:sg.stay:pfv:cust:nom   ‘… they are the ones I used to stay with’



         

Dene – Athabaskan 

b.        

 895

Koyukon (Jetté and Jones 2000: 728; interlinearization added) see neyeł taaghesoł see neyeł taaghesoł 1sg 2sg.with 1sg.s:fut:sg.go ‘I am the one who will go with you’

39.7.2 Verbs As noted in section 6, verbs are identifiable by the types of inflections they show, indicating aspectual information and agreement for subjects and objects. Sentences typically must include a verb, which may be the single word of the sentence. The many verbs included in section 6 may each constitute a complete sentence, unless the speaker chooses to offer additional information. The meanings of verbs can be modified by adverbial phrases of different types; in addition, some verbs require objects or complements to complete their meaning. In (17) we see examples of verbs combining with adverbs. The adverbs are bolded. (17)                                            

Verbs modified by adverbs a. Dëne (Denínu Kuę́ dialect) (South Slave Divisional Education Council 2012: 154; interlinarization added)   Yís dáı̨ gha.   Yís dáı̨ gha.   in 2sg.s:ipv:sg.go   ‘Come in! (one person)’ b. Tsilhqot’in (Smith 2011: 158; interlinearization added)   Tabanx naẑed.   Tabanx naẑed.   by_shore 3sg.s:ipv:sg.stand   ‘S/he is standing by the shore’ c. Witsuwit’en (Hargus 2007: 311; interlinearization added)   nusdits hǝtɛzdil   nusdits hǝtɛzdil   from_upstream 3pl.s:incept:pfv:pl.go   ‘they started down from upstream’ d. Tłı̨ chǫ (Harriet Erasmus, in Tłįchǫ Community Services Agency 2007/2010: 134; interlinearization and translation added)   behchı̨ ı̨ ̀ dàanì wek’èts’edìı hoghàsęęhtǫ, wìı̨ dı   behchı̨ ı̨ ̀ dàanì wek’èts’edìı hoghàsęęhtǫ,   vehicle how 3.o.human.s:ipv:drive.nom 1sg.o.2sg.s:ipv:teach   wìı̨ dı   3.o.2sg.s:ipv:tell   ‘Tell him to teach me to how to drive a vehicle’

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 Leslie Saxon

In (18), an object combines with the verb. In the first three examples, the sentence also includes an adverbial phrase. The object is bolded. (18)                                        

Verbs combined with objects a. Tsilhqot’in (Smith 2011: 165; interlinearization added)   Lhuy qwen-niz ts’elht’aŝ.   Lhuy qwen-niz ts’elht’aŝ.   fish over_fire human.s:ipv:roast   ‘Someone is roasting fish over a fire’ b. Diné bizaad (Young and Morgan 1989: 13 (grammar); interlinearization added)   ’Ałkidídą́ ą́ kin ’áshłaa.   ’Ałkidídą́ ą́ kin ’áshłaa.   quite_some_time_ago house 1sg.s:make:pfv   ‘I built a house some time ago’ c. Tanacross (Arnold et al 2009: 145; interlinearization added)   yatthiidóg tah kón’ dí’ihdláx   yatthiidóg tah kón’ dí’ihdláx   high_up at match 1sg.s:keep:ipv   ‘I keep matches way up there’ d. Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ (Rice 1989:261)   sǫ́ ba Ɂariyuné k’egoyįhwhe   sǫ́ba Ɂariyuné k’egoyįhwhe   money all 3_used_up   ‘she used up all the money’

All of the examples have the verb as the last element of the verb phrase, and this is a reflection of the characteristic pattern in Dene languages for the final element of a phrase to be its head. Languages differ, though, in how strictly the elements of a phrase or sentence are ordered, for example, within a verb phrase an adverb or object may come after the verb for a particular communicative purpose. In addition, some modal expressions and the sentence-final particles must come after the verb, as the final head element of the sentence. Modals and sentence-final particles are discussed briefly below, and examples are given there.

39.7.3 Postpositions The term postposition applies to words expressing relational meanings such as ‘in’, ‘with’, ‘after’, ‘to’, and many others. The role of postpositional phrases is to give more information about an action, situation, or thing. We noted earlier that postpositions can be composed of a single morpheme or a compound. As the head of a postpositional phrase, postpositions are final in their phrase, following their complement, which can be a noun phrase, postpositional phrase, or clause. In some of the examples below the



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postposition is inflected to agree with its object, which could be an area/space, or a person/thing/event. In the examples below the postposition is bolded and the complement to the postposition is underlined. (19)                                        

NP + Postposition (Tuttle 2009: 208) a. Minto Lower Tanana   Benhti khwts’en’ ghiyoł.   Benhti khwts’en’ ghiyoł.   Minto ar:to 2sg.s.prog.go:sg   ‘You are going to Minto’ b. Western Apache (San Carlos varieties) (deReuse and Goode 2006: 111; interlinearization added)   Ninabil bich’į’ nándāāł ni’, …   Ninabil bich’į’ nándāāł ni’, …   2sg.car 3:to 2sg.s.prog.go_back:sg pst   ‘You were walking back to your car …’ c. Koyukon (Jetté and Jones 2000: 354; interlinearization added)   tsaay kk’e leneyh   tsaay kk’e leneyh   tea like 3.s.ipv.taste   ‘it tastes like tea’ d. Gwich’in (Teetl’it dialect) (Gwich’in Social and Cultural Institute 2003: 62)   nan kak tthak   nan kak tthak   land on all_of_it   ‘earth’

In the examples in (20), the bolded postpositions have a postpositional phrase as the complement, which is underlined. (20)                  

PP + Postposition a. Upper Tanana (Northway dialect) (Lovick 2020b: 195)   Hudįįk’aan ttheh dą’ butąy’ hǫǫłįį.   Hudįįk’aan ttheh dą’ butąy’ hǫǫłįį.   ar:burn:pfv:nom before when:pst 3pl:trail:poss ar:be:ipv   ‘At the time before it burned, they had a trail there’ b. Tłı̨ chǫ (Mary Koyina Richardson, in Tłįchǫ Community Services Agency 2007/2010: 28; interlinearization and translation added)   … ehtsı̨ wenazhaɂeè yìı gots’ǫ ts’et’ìıkàdzèè deɂı̨ ı̨ lè.   ehtsı̨ wenazhaɂeè yìı gots’ǫ ts’et’ìıkàdzèè   granny 3.sweater:poss in ar:from chewing_tobacco deɂı̨ ı̨ lè. 1sg.s: pfv.steal:pfv pst ‘I stole some chewing tobacco from in Granny’s sweater’

898 

 Leslie Saxon

In the Tłı̨ chǫ sentence, the complement to gots’ǫ ‘from’ is the phrase ehtsı̨ wenazhaɂeè yìı. It is composed of the noun phrase ehtsı̨ wenazhaɂeè ‘granny’s sweater’ plus the postposition yìı ‘in’: where the girl stole the tobacco from is specified as inside the sweater. (21)                    

Clause + Postposition a. Dëne (Dillon dialect) (George Billette, in Holden 2013: 298)   Nı̨ d́ hil ɂá nálį.   Nı̨ d́ hil ɂá nálį.   vcn.inch.3.s.pfv.be_hot:inch because down.3.ipv.flow   ‘It [spruce gum] drains off because it is heated’ b. Diné bizaad (Young and Morgan 1989: 245 (dictionary); interlinearization added)   Níká ’adeeshwoł biniiyé níyá.   Níká ’adeeshwoł biniiyé níyá.   2sg.o:1sg.s:fut.help:sg 3:in_order_to 1sg.s.pfv.arrive:sg   ‘I came in order to help you’

Postpositional phrases like those in (21) relate a background fact or event to the main action of the sentence, which is the spruce gum draining off or the speaker’s arrival. Although postpositional phrases commonly serve a modifying function, some postpositions are essential to the meaning that a verb conveys, as with the English prepositions in look for versus look at. Two examples from Dene languages are Witsuwit’en yeɣ ułGec ‘he ran past him’ (Hargus 2007: 460), in which the postposition yeɣ is needed for the meaning ‘run past’, and Dehcho Dene yeghǫh níezhénı̨ la ‘he lent it/them to her’ (Norwegian and Howard 2004: 315), where the postposition yeghǫh is needed for the meaning ‘lend’. Postpositions in Dene languages cover a wide range of meanings—spatial, temporal, relating to purpose or cause and effect, relating to presence or absence, and relating to states of mind. Discussions of postpositions in reference works on Dene languages sometimes organize them by semantic types, which is helpful, because different semantic types of postpositional phrases may be compatible with different categories of verbs that they modify. Below are some examples of semantically categorized postpositions from reference works on Dëne, K’áshogot’ine xedə́, Tłı̨ chǫ, and Upper Tanana. Postpositional stems in examples are bolded. (22)              

Postpositions by semantic types (samples) a. Dëne postpositions of location and direction (Denínu Kuę́ dialect) (South Slave Divisional Education Council 2012: 289)   bedaghe above him/her/it   bek’íne after him/her/it   betthe before him/her/it   bet’ą̨zı̨ behind him/her/it   beyaghe below him/her/it   begá beside him/her/it



Dene – Athabaskan 

 

b.

                 

                c.

                         

                        d.

                               

                               

 899

K’áshogot’ine xedə́ postpositions of cause or purpose (Hare dialect) (Rice 1989: 297, 298) tewe w’i ghǫ gonezǫ shuyíya yíle tewe w’i ghǫ gonezǫ shuyíya yíle night mosquito because_of area_is_good 1pl.sleep neg ‘we didn’t sleep well at night because of the mosquitoes’ shǫ hǫ́ t’e duye dídée shǫ hǫ́t’e duye dídée rain because cannot 1pl.start_off ‘we cannot go because of the rain’ Tłı̨ chǫ postpositions of knowledge or willingness (Tłįchǫ Community Services Agency 2007/2010: 70; interlinearization added) Sek’èch’a eghàlaı̨ da-le. eghàlaı̨ da-le. Sek’èch’a 1sg.against_will 2sg.s.ipv.work:ipv-neg ‘Don’t work against me (against my will)’ Gonaàɂı̨ ̀ı̨ xǫnìı̨ ja. Gonaàɂı̨ ı̨ ̀ xǫnìı̨ ja. 1pl.without_knowledge 3sg.s.pfv.marry:sg ‘She got married without our knowledge’ Gıtł’ahk’e agòjà. Gıtł’ahk’e agòjà. 3pl.to_surprise ar.s.pfv.happen ‘It happened to their surprise’ Upper Tanana postpositions bringing in another event participant (Lovick 2020b: 202, 199, 204, 205) (Northway dialect) Shta’ eh jah shyah ts’ehtsįį. Shta’ eh jah shyah ts’ehtsįį. 1sg:father with here house 1pl:make.sg.o: pfv ‘I built this house with my father; my father and I built this house’ (Tetlin dialect) … tsat huxah k’idįįttheeł …  tsat huxah k’idįįttheeł   wood 3pl.for 2sg.split:ipv ‘split sg wood for them!’ (Tetlin dialect) Hiikah teedak tah ch’ikol. Hiikah teedak tah ch’ikol. 3pl>3sg:in.quest.of pl:go.ipv:pfv:cust when indf:negex ‘When they kept looking for him, [there was] nothing’ Jah kon’k’eet nuhdoo unda’ … (Northway dialect) Jah kon’k’eet nuhdoo uhda’ … here village.site 2pl:wait.for 1sg:sg.sit:opt ‘I’m going to wait here for you pl …’

900 

 Leslie Saxon

It is useful to see postpositional phrases in whole sentences because of how they serve to elaborate on actions and events. Adverbs serve a number of the same types of functions in sentences.

39.7.4 Directionals and adverbs Directionals and adverbs differ from postpositions in that they do not have complements but are instead stand-alone modifiers. Like postpositional phrases, directionals and adverbs serve a range of modifying functions. Directionals are defined by Patrick Moore in his description of Kaska grammar as words that “specify location and direction of movement” (Moore 2002: 403). They provide precise specifications of where or in what direction action takes place. As Moore shows in his work, directionals are very significant as expressions of point of view: whose point of view orients the spaces in a scene? Directionals are expressions of geographical (and/or social and ontological) locations and directions. Directional stems combine with a class of prefixes and suffixes that finetune where the intended place or path lies: in many languages this is done in terms of a body of water. In grammars and dictionaries we find longer descriptions of the directional systems for Diné bizaad (Young and Morgan 1989:15–20 (grammar)), ­Mackenzie Valley Dene (Rice 1989: 319–338), Ahtna (Kari 1990: 633), Kaska (Moore 2003: 403–417), Koyukon (Jetté and Jones 2000: 808–810), Dena’ina (Kari 2007: 331–341), ­Witsuwit’en (Hargus 2007: 307–317), Tanacross (Arnold et al 2009: 31–33), and Upper Tanana (Lovick 2020b: 224–262). See also Berez (2014) on directionals and geographic information in Ahtna narratives, and Holton and Berez-Kroeker (this volume) on “sense of place” in North American languages, including Dene languages. Examples illustrating the system are provided below, reproduced from the Ahtna dictionary (Kari 1990: 633). To the right is given the directional stem without any prefix or suffix. (23)            

Examples of directional terms in Ahtna (the stems are bolded) (Kari 1990: 633) Directional term with prefix and suffix Directional adverb ’udaat ‘at a place far downriver’ daa’ ‘downriver’ ts’inaadze ‘from directly across’ naan ‘across’ katsiidze ‘from the next place toward the water’ tsen ‘toward water, lowland’ na’aaxe ‘over there in a general area outside’ ’an ‘away’ dangge ‘nearby in a direction upland’ ngge’ ‘from water, upland’

The class of adverbs as a whole shows wider semantic functions than directionals. Adverbs modify actions, states, and events, expressing properties relating to space, time, cause or effect, presence or absence, states of mind, and the ways in which an action is carried out.



Dene – Athabaskan 

 901

Some examples of adverbs (bolded) are shown in (24). The first two example sentences include two adverbs each, which modify the verb in different ways. (24)                        

Ahtna adverbs (sample) (Kari 1990: 211, 250, 132; interlinearization added) gaxan ba’aa kaghalggaac gaxan ba’aa kaghalggaac suddenly outside 3sg.s.pfv.go_up:sg ‘suddenly he came up outside’ ba’aa niniyaa k’azona ba’aa niniyaa k’azona outside 3sg.s.pfv.go:sg just_then ‘he stopped outside just then’ yidaadze’ c’a dyaak yidaadze’ c’a dyaak fortunately 3.s.pfv.happen ‘fortunately it happened’

Adverbs typically come before the verb that they modify, either immediately before the verb or before the verb and its complements. Some adverbs have freer distribution in sentences, before or after the verb according to the sense to be conveyed, and some have stricter distribution: for example, the Ahtna adverb in (25), yehwna ‘meanwhile’, always begins the sentence. (25)        

Ahtna sentence-initial adverb (Kari 1990: 292; interlinearization added) yehwna dluuni ts’akae gha da’iltlet yehwna dluuni ts’akae gha da’iltlet meanwhile mouse woman to 3sg.s.pfv.run_in:sg ‘meanwhile she ran inside to the mouse woman’

Adverbs may share the same stems as postpositions in some languages, with or without additional morphemes. Examples from Koyukon are shown below: the postpositions and adverbs in each pair have the same stem (bolded). (26)          

Koyukon postpositions and adverbs sharing stems (the stem is bolded) (Jetté and Jones 2000) Postposition Adverb -kk’eł ‘alongside’ kk’eł ‘away, discarding’ -te ‘among’ toote ‘during the summer’ (lit. ‘among the waters’) -ts’en’ ‘to’ hełts’ene’ ‘in the evening’ (lit. ‘approaching dark’)     k’ets’ene’ ‘wrongly, incorrectly, oddly, strangely, differently’

902 

 Leslie Saxon

39.7.5 Focusing adverbs In addition to directional and adverbial modifiers that have full-bodied meanings like those seen above, there are adverbs that have focusing meanings like ‘only’, ‘too’, or ‘not’. Because these are relational types of meanings, focusing adverbs combine with a phrase to show the relationship. Below we see examples of how the adverbial sense of ‘only’ is expressed in four Dene languages. The word for ‘only’ is bolded and the phrase it relates to is underlined.6 In the first three examples the scope of ‘only’ is a noun phrase; in the last one, its scope takes in a postpositional phrase. In the orthography for Western Apache (San Carlos varieties) the morpheme zhą́ ‘only’ is treated as an enclitic and is spelled as a single word with what comes before it. The other languages treat ‘only’ as a separate word. (27)                                        

Adverbial ‘only’ a. Western Apache (San Carlos varieties) (de Reuse and Goode 2006: 137; interlinearization added)   Shīīzhą́ ákū díyāā.   Shīī =zhą́ ákū díyāā.   1sg only there 1sg.s.pfv.go:sg   ‘I am the only one going there’ b. Ahtna (Kari 1990: 434; interlinearization added)   saena yaen’ ghatna’   saena yaen’ ghatna’   summer only 3.sg.s.pfv.work   ‘he worked only in the summer’ c. Tanacross (Arnold et al 2009: 188; interlinearization added)   êy shę́ę’ únindiiyh   êy shę́ę’ únindiiyh   that only 2sg.s.ipv.take:sg   ‘take only that one’ d. Dëne (Black Lake dialect) (Cook 2004: 104)   ɁEtthëń t’á zą dëne hotié dághena łí.   ɁEtthëń t’á zą dëne hotié dághena łí.   caribou with only people very 3pl-live m    ‘Only because of caribou people used to be well off’

Sentential negation (‘not’) is expressed in some Dene languages by an adverb, and in other languages by other means. The semantics section of this chapter includes a short discussion of the topic.

6 In Tanacross spelling the letter represents a different sound from . In the Tanacross sentence is just part of the spelling of the word shę́ę’.



Dene – Athabaskan 

 903

39.7.6 Numerals The topic of numerals and other quantifying terms in Dene languages is too big to do justice to in a short chapter, so this section will include brief discussions of numerals, word order in noun phrases, numeral suffixes and their contributions to meaning, and quantifiers other than numerals. Wilhelm 2008 studies numbers and nouns in Dëne, rare semantic research on the topic. Descriptions of number systems in Dene languages detail how numerals below ‘five’ are basic terms usually without known meaningful parts. Table 7 shows the cognate words for ‘three’ and ‘four’ used in languages throughout the family. Tab. 7: Numbers for ‘three’ and ‘four’ in Dene languages Language

3 

4 

Source

Upper Tanana (Tetlin dialect) Tanacross Dëne (Denínu Kuę́ dialect) Witsuwit’en Tsilhqot’in Tsúut’ínà Hupa Diné bizaad Western Apache (San Carlos varieties)

taag taag taghe taq’ǝy tay tóók’ī / táyk’í ta:q’ táá’ tāāgi

dan den dı̨ghı̨ / dı̨ dinc’ǝy diny dīītc’íí dink’ dį ̨́i ́’ dį̄ į̄’i

Lovick 2020b: 289 Arnold et al 2009 South Slave Div Ed Council 2012: 160 Hargus 2007: 327 Cook 2013: 123 Cook 1984: 76 Golla 1985: 74 Young and Morgan 1989:11 (grammar) de Reuse and Goode 2006: 125

Numerals above ‘five’ have more complex morphological forms involving multiplication, addition, and subtraction. The patterns in each language or cluster of languages are not identical, and in some communities, it is common to code-switch to English for larger numbers (Moore 2003 about Kaska; Lovick 2020b: 289 about Upper Tanana). Depending on the history of colonization in previous centuries, higher numbers might have been borrowed from French, Russian, or Spanish. As noted earlier, a demonstrative comes before the noun in all of the Dene languages. In some languages a numeral will come before the noun (and after the demonstrative if there is one), as in the Dëne Sųłiné and Diné bizaad phrases below.7

7 Sometimes the numeral comes after the noun in Dëne Sųłiné, so the pattern in Dëne Sųłiné may more resemble the pattern for Tsilhqot’in and Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ shown in (29). See also Young and Morgan 1989: 205a (grammar) for more examples from Diné bizaad.

904 

(28)                

 Leslie Saxon

Numeral before the noun (the numeral is bolded) a. Dëne Sųłiné (selected from Sophie Chanalquay’s story in Holden 2013: 50)   ediri įłághe chelekwaze   this one boy.dim   ‘this one young man’ b. Diné bizaad (Parson-Yazzie and Speas 2007: 211)   naaki béeso   two dollar   ‘two dollars’

In other languages, there are two options for the placement of the numeral, either before or after the noun. Grammatical sources do not usually spell out when the two orders are used. Tsilhqot’in and Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ show the two possibilities, as illustrated below. (29)                                        

Two word orders for nouns and numerals (the numeral is bolded) a. Tsilhqot’in (examples from Smith 2011: 16, 51, 27; interlinearization added)   esqax nandinh   children two   ‘two children’   ts’iqi tan   woman three   ‘three women’   tawh xilex   three row   ‘three rows’ b. Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ (Sahtú dialect) (Rice 1989: 377, 379, 378)   tehk’ái honénǫ   muskrat ten   ‘ten muskrats’   sa łą́hdı̨ ı̨   sun seven   ‘seven suns’   honénǫ ɂedaıdzené   ten week   ‘ten weeks’

The positioning of numerals in noun phrases in Tłı̨ chǫ is discussed in some detail in Wilhelm and Saxon 2016. They find that numerals come after the noun when counting things but they come before the noun in measurements. Other languages might show similar patterns to investigate. Tsilhqot’in, Diné bizaad, and Koyukon, among several other languages, show suffixes on numerals as agreement with the type of thing being counted, as noted in the preceding section. That is why the Tsilhqot’in word for ‘three’ can be tan (for counting



Dene – Athabaskan 

 905

people) or tawh (for counting rows). The system of numeral suffixes in Witsuwit’en is presented in Hargus (2007:327): there is a ‘neutral’ form for each numeral, and additionally numerals with distinct suffixes for counting people, places, the number of times something happens, and the number of ways. With ‘three’ as an example, we illustrate the Witsuwit’en suffixed numerals here: taq’ǝy ‘three’, tani ‘three [people]’, tatǝn ‘three [places]’, tat ‘three times’, taxw ‘three [ways]’. Dene languages include other quantifying terms, with meanings such as ‘many’, ‘all’, ‘every’, and ‘some’. For the most part these terms follow the noun that they are quantifying. Like demonstratives and numerals, some or all of these quantifiers act like pronouns, occupying the place of a whole noun phrase. A Tłı̨ chǫ example follows, with the quantifier hazǫǫ̀ ‘all’. (30)        

Tłı̨ chǫ quantifier as noun phrase (the quantifier is bolded) (Dogrib Translation Committee 2008: Genesis 45:1; interlinearization added) Hazǫǫ̀ xàgeède tł’axǫǫ̀ … Hazǫǫ ̀ xàgeède tł’axǫǫ̀ … all 3pl.s.pfv.pl:go_out: pfv after ‘after all had left / gone out …’

39.7.7 Adjectives Two types of adjectives have been identified in research into Dene languages: (1) predicative adjectives are used to form sentences, paralleling English it is flat; and (2) attributive (or ‘post-nominal’ (Hargus 2007)) adjectives or ‘modifiers’ are restricted to noun descriptors (Lovick 2020b), paralleling English my late uncle. Adjectives contrast starkly with verbs in Dene language: adjectives do not inflect for aspectual information and show little potential for agreement. In each Dene language there is a limited number of adjectives of either class, and in this regard too they contrast with verbs. Research by Welch (2012, 2016) has highlighted some of the characteristics of predicative adjectives in Tłı̨ chǫ; Rice (1989, ch 14) provides an extensive early study of attributive adjectives in Mackenzie Valley Dene (which she termed ‘qualifiers’; see also Cook 1984: 67–68)). To form a sentence, in some languages predicative adjectives combine with the verb ‘be’; in other languages the verb ‘be’ is required in some contexts but not in all. Below we show examples from Tanacross and Tłı̨ chǫ. (31)          

Predicative adjectives (the adjectives are bolded) a. Tanacross (Arnold et al 2009: 97; interlinearization added)   shinłá’ gés nłęę   shinłá’ gés nłęę   1sg.hand dirty 3sg.ipv.be:ipv   ‘my hands are dirty’

906 

         

 Leslie Saxon

b.        

Tłı̨ chǫ (Welch 2016: 9, attributed to Mary Siemens, 2007) Chekoa į̀ į̀ zha gı̨ ı̨ lı̨ dìì. Chekoa į̀ į̀ zha gı̨ ı̨ lı̨ dìì. child shy ipv.3pl.sbj-cop.ipv really ‘The children are really shy’

Unlike predicative adjectives, attributive adjectives do not serve as the main predicate of a sentence. They encompass meanings like ‘late [someone who has died]’, ‘little’, ‘big’, ‘raggedy’, ‘flat’, ‘round’, and others. These morphemes are very commonly used with nouns; some of them can be used with verbs and postpositions too. Unlike true adjectives they cannot be used without another word to host them. Because of this, in spelling they can be written like a suffix or enclitic as one word with the noun, as in the examples below from Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ . Often their meaning contribution is not strictly compositional, which also contributes to their spelling as a single word with the noun. In dictionaries and reference works they can be found with or without the hyphen that typically indicates a bound morpheme, as in the Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ examples in Table 8. Tab. 8: Attributive adjectives in Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ (Sahtú dialect) (Rice 1989: 235–252) -cho -yaa -dewé -wele

augmentative diminutive ‘big; great(est)’ ‘hot, warm’

ɂek’élu sah tsá nı̨hts’ı

‘road’ ‘bear’ ‘beaver’ ‘wind’

ɂek’élucho sahyaa tsádewé nı̨hts’ıwele

‘highway’ ‘bear cub’ ‘largest beaver’ ‘chinook wind’

Table 9 shows examples from Witsuwit’en. The first two items have the same etymology as those in Mackenzie Valley Dene; these two attributive adjectives are found in a great number of the languages of the family. Tab. 9: Attributive adjectives in Witsuwit’en (Hargus 2007: 321–326) -co -yez -det -zuɁ

‘big’ ‘little, young’ ‘thin’ ‘good’

bǝn co dus yez bǝn det to zuɁ

‘big lake’ ‘kitten’ ‘skinny lake’ ‘fresh water’

yǝɣ wǝco tseł yez sa det dǝni zuɁ

‘big house’ ‘hatchet’ (lit. ‘little axe’) ‘crescent moon’ ‘good man, good-looking man’

The noun + attributive adjective have the same functions as a noun alone, and in the description of Western Apache (San Carlos varieties), as well as some other languages, they are treated as compounds composed of a noun plus an adjectival stem (de Reuse and Goode 2006: 288–293). In at least some languages these adjectives can be stacked, as in Tłı̨ chǫ łèt’èhtłòa ‘pancake’, composed of the noun łè ‘flour’, plus the attributive adjectives -t’èh ‘burnt; blackened’ -tłòo ‘flabby’, and ‑a ‘diminutive’.



Dene – Athabaskan 

 907

39.7.8 Conjunctions and other function words Function words indicate types of grammatical relationships rather than things or actions. Words of the category conjunction have meanings like ‘and’, ‘or’, ‘but’, ‘because’, ‘if’, relating concepts in a sentence. Other function words to be briefly surveyed in this section include complementizers, which serve to identify syntactic and semantic properties of clauses; modals, whose meanings relate to what is possible or necessary; and sentence-final particles, whose meanings in many cases relate to the context, including suppositions or hunches of the people speaking. In Dene languages we find conjunctions linking noun phrases, and in many languages other conjunctions linking verb phrases or clauses. In the (32a) and (32b) examples below we see conjoined noun phrases, and in (32c) and (32d) conjoined clauses. (32)                                            

Conjoined phrases (the conjunctions are bolded) a. Noun phrases conjoined: Tanacross (Arnold et al 2009: 44; interlinearization added)   dendîig éł wudzih iin éł   dendîig éł wudzih iin éł   moose and caribou pl and   ‘moose and caribou’ b. Noun phrases conjoined: K’áshogot’ine xedə́ (Rice 1989: 1070)   léht’ée w’ila tuwele w’ila yít’á   léht’ée w’ila tuwele w’ila yít’á   bread and soup and 1p.ate   ‘we ate soup and bread’ c. Sentences conjoined: Tsilhqot’in (Helena Myers, quoted in Smith 2011: 148; interlinearization added)   Beghayg tŝits’ededzɨsh lhin yenutlad ch’a.   Beghayg tŝits’ededzɨsh lhin yenutlad ch’a.   3sg.fish_bones one_burns_in_fire dog 3.s.3.o.opt.choke against   ‘The fine bones of fish are burned in the fire so that dogs don’t choke on them’ d. Sentences conjoined: Western Apache (San Carlos varieties) (de Reuse and Goode 2006: 350; interlinearization added)   Dadányú zas nałtįh, dat’éni kúné’ gozdod.   Dadányú zas nałtįh, dat’éni kúné’   outside snow ipv.there_is_precipitation but in_here   gozdod.   pfv.it_is_hot   ‘Outside it is snowing, but in here it is hot’

908 

 Leslie Saxon

Function words often act as heads of phrases, and many conjunctions in Dene languages take a (head‑)final position in their phrases, as we see in the examples from Tanacross, K’áshogot’ine xedə́, and Tsilhqot’in above. Complementizers identify clause types (such as questions) and embedded clauses within a larger sentence, including certain classes of complement clauses and adjunct clauses. In this usage they are a subcategory of subordinating conjunction. Rice 1989 brings forth invaluable discussion of complementizers in Mackenzie Valley Dene. Important research has been done concerning complementizers in Diné bizaad (Perkins 1978; Schauber 1979; Willie 1991; Mithun 2008) and the Western Apache language (San Carlos varieties) (Potter 1997). In addition to studies of individual languages, Saxon (2003) surveys a complementizer found across all branches of the family. In the sentences below, complementizers are bolded, and embedded clauses marked by a complementizer are enclosed by square brackets [ ]. (33)                                      

Examples of complementizers (complementizers are bolded) a. Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ (Rice 1989: 1124, 1247)   ɂasį́ netá ɂeghálayeda   ɂasį́ netá ɂeghálayeda   q  2sg.father 3.works   ‘is your father working?’   nezǫ ɂeghálaįda gha nek’eodehyǫ   [ nezǫ ɂeghálaįda gha ] nek’eodehyǫ comp 1sg.know.2sg   good 2sg.work   ‘I know that you work hard’ b. Koyukon (Jetté and Jones 2000: 282; interlinearization added)   denaa neeyohee’   denaa neeyo-hee’   person 3.s.pfv.arrive-comp   ‘did a person come?’ c. Western Apache (San Carlos varieties) (Potter 1997: 354)   Earl John isaa áyíílaa go ṇ́ zįh.   Earl [ John isaa áyíílaa go ] ṇ́ zįh.   Earl John drum 3sg.perf.make n-fact 3sg.imprf.think   ‘Earl thinks John made a drum’

Words expressing modality (modals) have meaning like ‘can’, ‘might’, ‘should’, and the like, concepts relating to what is possible or necessary: therefore modality is in essence a semantic topic. Modals in a language do not necessarily all pattern alike: many of them are positioned following the verb in a sentence, but some are positioned with respect to the sentence as a whole. Their etymologies also differ: there are modals that are related to postpositions, verbs, adverbs, etc, which derive their modal meanings in context. Willie 1996 is an important contribution on modality in Diné bizaad; see also Young and Morgan (2000) (which includes discussion of a variety of concepts besides modality).



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Rice (1989: chapter 23) gives a discussion of modality in Mackenzie Valley Dene; see also Norwegian and Howard (2004: appendix 7.4). Discussion of modality can sometimes be found in grammars and dictionaries under the topic of grammatical particles. The examples below provide just a thin coverage of the important but understudied area of modality in Dene languages. (34)                                    

Examples of how modality is expressed (expression of modality bolded) a. Diné bizaad (Willie 1996: 332)   Chidí nahidooni’=ígíí behónéedzą́ .   car 3.will buy=comp 3s.able   ‘It is possible to buy a car.’ b. Sahtúot’ı̨ ne yatı̨ (Rice 1989:406)   dúyé nehtée   cannot 1sg.sleep   ‘I can’t sleep’ c. Tanacross (Arnold et al 2009: 203; interlinearization added)   k’á shnı̨ h́ ’îil súle’   k’á shnı̨ h́ ’îil súle’   not 2sg.s.1sg.o.see probably   ‘you probably won’t see me’ d. Tłı̨ chǫ (Lianne Mantla, cited in Welch 2015: 270)   Ekwǫ̀  ghǫ sègeze welì  ahxǫ.   Ekwǫ̀ ghǫ sè-ge-ze welì ahxǫ maybe   caribou from thm-ipv.3pl.sbj-eat.ipv epi   ‘They might eat caribou’.

In all Dene languages, the existence of a category of sentence-final particles gives speakers the ability to express a range of meanings relating to the speaker’s views, presuppositions, states of knowledge, inference from evidence, attitudes, and the like. This topic is also understudied, but increasingly its importance in communication is being realized, and grammarians are included more discussion of the topic in their research. Sentence-final particles and modal expressions overlap to an extent in meanings and grammatical patterning, and references cited above are helpful. Other references are de Reuse (2003) on evidentiality in Western Apache and Welch (2015) on modal, evidential, and other sentence-final particles in Tłı̨ chǫ. (35)          

Examples of sentence-final particles (the particle is bolded) a. Diné bizaad (Young 2000: 305; interlinearization added)   Díí tsé ’át’éé lá.   Díí tsé ’át’éé lá.   this rock 3sg.s.ipv.be I_find   ‘This (I find) is a rock. (One just discovers the fact and exclaims after having thought it to be something else.)’

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b.         c.         d.        

Koyukon (Jetté and Jones 2000: 415; interlinearization added) denaakʉghe eelbenh łohn denaakʉghe eelbenh łonh while_sleeping 3sg.s.pfv.water_rise apparently ‘the water had apparently risen while we were asleep’ Tłı̨ chǫ (Welch 2015: 283) Dǫ hànì gogede hǫt’e nǫǫ̀. dǫ hànì go-ge-de hǫt’e nǫǫ ̀   person thus thm-ipv.3pl.sbj-speak.ipv foc evid ‘It seems people do talk like that’. Tsúut’ínà (Cook 1984: 38; interlinearization added) dímòyā zó nànínāc-gù-là dímòyā zó nànínāc-gù-là along_edge only 2sg.s.move-intentive-inference ‘Only along the edge you should move.’

The examples from Tłı̨ chǫ and Tsúut’ínà show that some combinations of modal and/or sentence-final particles may occur together. The combinatory possibilities and impossibilities are a topic of discussion in the references mentioned, and further study is certainly called for to understand how someone expresses their perspectives when speaking in a Dene language.

39.7.9 Interjections Interjections, often used as single-word reactions to situations speakers find themselves in, have not been studied as a distinct category in Dene languages. Judging from dictionaries and grammars, though, and experience with Dene languages in use, there is no shortage of such words in any of the languages. “Response particles” like ‘yes’ and ‘no’, can be included in this category, though they have their own characteristics because (as their name implies) they typically are used as responses to someone else. These terms have not been studied in their own right either. Interjections are often unique in sound but may be related to other expressions in the language. Such an example would be Koyukon degen! ‘wow!’ (Jetté and Jones 2000: 188), regarded as related to the word gen ‘what?’ (Jetté and Jones 2000: 187). If certain interjections are frequently used, they can be identified with a speech community, and even adopted in usage by others. The Dëne word ɂesjıa ‘take it easy!’ (South Slave Divisional Education Council 2012: 146; South Slave Divisional Education Council 2014: 228) is often heard in Yellowknife used by people who speak Tłı̨ chǫ or English as their main language. Table 10 shows a small selection of Dene language interjections.



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Tab. 10: Sampling of Interjections Language

Interjection

Translation provided

Source

Koyukon

kkaa’

Jetté and Jones 2000: 325

Upper Tanana

adzu’

Tanacross

éna’

Kaska K’áshogot’ine xedə́ Tetsǫ́t’ıné yatıé

łogíh ɂahwee ɂı̨ ghą́

scram! “not offensive, unless the rough tone of the speaker makes it so” oops! oh! “expresses surprise, but additionally conveys affection towards the addressee” no “This word can mean ‘no’, ‘stop it,’ ‘don’t do that,’ but it is not used in answer to a question” don’t! ouch! expression to get people moving

Witsuwit’en Diné bizaad

mǝɁ ’ahéhee’

yes thank you

Western Apache (San Carlos varieties)

kehēē

wow!

Lovick 2020b: 307

Arnold, Thomann, and Holton 2009: 183 Moore 2002: 359 Rice 1989: 160 Cardinal, Jaker, and Cardinal 2021: 201 Hargus 2007: 816 Parsons-Yazzie and Speas: 408 deReuse and Goode: 111

Since interjections have not been the subject of research attention, there remains much to be learned about how they are used in context, the range of their functions, how they can be combined with each other, how they are used as part of a sentence, and how they are related to other expressions meaning-wise. This survey of parts of speech has missed out other types of words of great interest, such as vocabulary or phraseology used in sound symbolism and ideophones, and words for sounds (onomatopoeia), sounds used when animals or other creatures are quoted, used when praying, or used when talking to babies.

39.8 Head-final structures and other syntactic patterns This brief section takes a broader look at syntax in Dene languages, starting with comments on the heads of phrases in Dene languages. As is shown by many examples throughout this chapter, the head of a phrase is characteristically the final word of the phrase. This robust pattern aids in the identification of phrasal boundaries and the boundaries of clauses. In the sentence from Tłı̨ chǫ below, phrases are nested within larger ones. In head-final languages, the heads of phrases may end up piled up at the ends of sentences.

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Head-final phrases in Tłı̨ chǫ (Dogrib Translation Committee 2008, Genesis 30:40, quoted in Saxon 2020: 203; interlinearization and translation added) Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ta whelaà ayı̨ ̀ı̨ ̀là-le. Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ta whela -à ayı̨ ̀ı̨ ̀là -le Laban 3.from animal among 3s.ipv.be:pl comp 3o.3s.pfv.cause neg ‘he didn’t let them be among Laban’s animals’

The heads of phrases are bolded below and phrases are demarcated with [ ]: by this notation we will see the nesting of phrases. The smallest phrase is Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ‘Laban’s animals’. The head of this noun phrase is the noun tıts’aàdìı ‘animal’.  

[ Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ]

The postposition ta ‘among’ is the head of the postpositional phrase Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ta ‘among Laban’s animals’.  

[

[ Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ] ta ]

The verb whela ‘be’ is the head of the verb phrase Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ta whela ‘be among Laban’s animals’.  

[ [

[ Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ] ta ] whela ]

The grammatical morpheme and complementizer -à is the head of the embedded clause Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ta whela-à ‘[for] them to be among Laban’s animals’.  

[ [ [

[ Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ] ta ] whela ] -à ]

The verb ayı̨ ̀ı̨ ̀là ‘caused/ let’ is the head of the main verb phrase Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ta whelaà ayı̨ ̀ı̨ ̀là ‘he let them be among Laban’s animals’.  

[ [ [ [

[ Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ] ta ] whela ] -à ] ayı̨ ̀ı̨ ̀là ]

The grammatical negative -le is the negative head of the entire sentence.  

[ [ [ [ [

[ Laban wets’ǫ tıts’aàdìı ] ta ] whela ] -à ] ayı̨ ̀ı̨ ̀là ] -le. ]

The six syntactic heads follow one another at the ends of their respective phrases, as we see from all of the bolded heads in our last example. There are certainly instances in many or all of the Dene languages where a head is not final in its phrase, but this is a minority of cases, and is sometimes due to a grammatical particularity of an individual word: for example, the focusing adverb xàè ‘even; oneself’ in Tłı̨ chǫ, as in sı̨ xàè ‘even I; I myself’ (Dogrib Translation Committee 2008). As an adverbial head, it is expected to be final in its phrase, as it is in this example. But if the complement of the adverbial is not a pronoun, the other word order is required, with xàè before its complement noun: xàè sèot’ı̨ ‘even my own people’ (Dogrib Translation Committee 2008).



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In head-final languages, like the Dene languages and others around the world, sentences can be briefly described as having Subject-Object-Verb (SOV) word order—or more generally, as having the subject as the first major component of the sentence and the verb as the final element. This pattern contrasts with the Subject-Verb-Object (SVO) word order of English, French, Mandarin, and other languages around the world, and the Verb-Subject-Object (VSO) word order of many Mayan languages, Austronesian languages, Irish, and other languages around the world. In all languages, the most usual patterns are augmented by additional sentence patterns used for different grammatical and communicative effects. In this regard, see, for example, Chad Thompson’s (2000) important study of word order, in which he provides an analysis of how information flows in Koyukon stories. Syntactic studies of questions provide other insights into how word order in Dene languages influences the interpretation of sentences in context; see Perkins 1978; Platero 1978; Schauber 1979; Rice 1989; Potter 1997; among others. Another way to describe the usual sentence pattern in Dene languages is to speak in terms of Subject-Predicate word order. Understanding “predicate” to include the object and verb, this description is essentially the same as SOV word order. Other instances of subject-predicate word order occur in languages: for example, in the English sentence the ferris wheel ride made Mary dizzy, Mary is the subject of the predicate adjective dizzy. In Tłı̨ chǫ sentences like (37), the noun phrase edınì ‘their minds’ is related as a subject to the predicate ładı̨ ı̨ ̀ ‘different(ly)’ (both bolded below), and thus we find subject-predicate word order within the verb phrase headed by agı̨ ̀ı̨ ̀là ‘they made’. (37)

       

Subject-predicate word order in a verb phrase in Tłı̨ chǫ (Dogrib Translation Committee 2008, Romans 11:23, quoted in Saxon 2020: 185; interlinearization and translation added) Israel got’ı̨ ı̨ ̀ edınì ładı̨ ı̨ ̀ agı̨ ̀ı̨ ̀là … Israel got’ı̨ ı̨ ̀ agı̨ ̀ı̨ ̀là edınì ładı̨ ı̨ ̀ …    inhabitant refl.mind differently 3.o.3pl.s.pfv.cause   ‘the people of Israel made their minds different(ly)’

As has been noted in other grammatical descriptions, there are a few cases within each Dene language of sentences that do not include a verbal predicate. We earlier saw the example of the Tłı̨ chǫ sentence goı̨ nàà ‘we are happy’, built with a noun meaning ‘happiness’ as the main predicate. As also noted earlier, in some languages predicate adjectives may constitute a complete sentence, as in the Upper Tanana sentence Elih! ‘it is cold!’ (Lovick 2020b: 266). Postpositional phrases with certain meanings may form a complete sentence in some languages. An example in Dëne is lıdí bets’ı̨ ‘she has tea’ (South Slave Divisional Education Council 2012: 367). In other contexts, bets’ı̨ translates as ‘from him or her’, but as a predicate it has the meaning ‘she or he has it’. In the next section some semantic patterns found across Dene languages are described. As with this section and all of the earlier sections of this chapter, the discussion on semantics could be much expanded.

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39.9 Patterns of meaning As with most languages, systems of meanings in Dene languages have not been as extensively studied or described as other linguistic systems. One semantic category has received quite a lot of attention: there is a long tradition of the study of sets of “classificatory verbs”, which express the location or handling of objects. The specific verb stem used by a storyteller tells listeners something about the physical attributes of the objects. For example, in Dëne, we can contrast verbs which translate as ‘he or she is carrying it’: nayełtel is used if the object is alive and nayelel is used if the object is loose item(s) (South Slave Divisional Education Council 2012: 348). All reference grammars of Dene languages treat this set of semantic contrasts, and there are also a number of studies of patterns within the family and within individual languages, for example Davison, Elford, and Hoijer 1963; Basso 1968; Carter 1976; and Rushforth and Tatti 1980. There is work touching on other lexical semantic fields as well (such as Rice 1998, 2002, 2009, 2014; Holden 2011; Holden and McIntyre 2020). Josh Holden’s (2019) article on semantic primes in Denesųłiné breaks new ground and connects the academic study of lexical semantics to the task of creating bilingual dictionaries. Often the least studied areas of meaning relate to the composition of meanings in sentences and longer stretches of conversation or narrative. This section briefly considers such topics. Scholars who contribute in the area of meaning in Dene stories, conversations, and other types of discourse arrive at their interest from many perspectives. Unfortunately, this chapter is not big enough to accommodate a discussion of research into narrative, narrative meanings, and connections to worldview. Important recent works are Carr and Meek (2013); Spencer (2022); Kari and Tuttle (2018); and Belin et al (2021). Among many other researchers we can mention Keith Basso, Gerald Carr, Julie Cruikshank, Josh Holden, Dagmar Jung, James Kari, Olga Lovick, Barbra Meek, Patrick Moore, Ron Scollon and Suzanne Scollon, Jasmine Spencer, Fibbie Tatti, Chad Thompson, Daniel Tlen, and Siri Tuttle. Anthony Webster’s and Olivia Sammons’ chapters (this volume) discuss verbal art, conversation, and their linguistic forms across Native American traditions and in a number of Dene languages. The thought-provoking chapter in this volume by Elizabeth Bogal-Albritten discusses how the context of speaking interacts with meaning and language use, which, as she points out, are important considerations for language learners. In the study of Dene language semantics, Diné scholars are to be specially recognized for the depth and breadth of their research and their many collaborations with each other and others. Nicole Horseherder, Lorene Legah, Alyse Neundorf, Evangeline Parsons Yazzie, Ellavina Perkins, Paul Platero, Irene Silentman, MaryAnn Willie and others have made ground-breaking contributions in semantics and discourse structures, on topics such as the interpretation of pronominal inflections (for example, Platero 1974; Perkins 1978; Willie 1991; Horseherder 1998), relative clauses (for example, Platero 1974, 1978; Perkins 1982), conditionals (Fernald, Perkins, and Platero 2000), and types



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of quantification (Barss et al 1989; Speas and Yazzie 1996; Fernald, Legah, Neundorf, and Perkins 2000), to name a few topics. The study of pronominal inflections yi- and bi- in Diné grammar by Diné linguists (also known as ‘subject-object inversion’) has led to quite a number of other works on the topic in Diné bizaad and other Dene languages. As both morphemes can be translated as ‘third person object/possessor’, it has been a puzzle, and by no means a purely linguistic puzzle, to determine which one will be used in which context. The answer is not the same for all languages: world view, animacy, topicality, specificity, and/or syntactic position are involved in languages for which this question has been explored. For discussion see Hale 1973; Witherspoon 1977; Perkins 1978; Platero 1974, 1978, 1982; Sandoval 1984; Jelinek 1984; Saxon 1986, 1989; Thompson 1989; Speas 1990; Speas and Yazzie 1996; Willie 1991, 2000; Tuttle 1996; Jelinek and Willie 2000; Willie and Jelinek 2000; Jung 2000; and Gunlogson 2001. Rice and Saxon (2005) provides some discussion in an approach through comparative syntax. The concept of verbal aspect in particular languages and in the language family has been explored extensively in works by Kari 1979; Axelrod 1993; Smith 1997; Rice 2000; and several others. Midgette 1995, Wilhelm 2006 on Dëne, and Smith, Perkins, and Fernald 2007 on Diné bizaad take the semantics of aspect to the larger sentential context and stand as important landmarks in the study of this topic. Wilhelm 2008 is an innovative study of the semantics of noun phrases. Ted Fernald, sometimes with co-authors, explores a range of semantic topics in his research into Diné bizaad, from the nature of predicates to concepts of ‘generalization’ and conditionals (Fernald, Perkins, and Platero 2000). Adar Anisman (2019) wrote one of very few studies of conditionals in Dene languages, opening up a new area of study with her examination of the word nı̨ dè ‘if, when, whenever’ in Tłı̨ chǫ. Below are brief discussions of negation (9.1) and the phenomenon of perspective shifting with quotative and propositional verbs (9.2), two other topics of note in research on the semantics of Dene languages.

39.9.1 Negative sentences Dene languages as a group employ three strategies for forming negative sentences: (1) through the use of a negative form of the verb, (2) through the use of negative particles, or (3) a combination of these. Hargus (2007: 370–373, 434–435) discusses how negative forms of verbs are used to create negative sentences in Witsuwit’en, and contrasts positive and negative verb forms like nǝtacłdes ‘I’ll weigh it’ and nǝwetǝzicłdets ‘I won’t weigh it’ (Hargus 2007: 434). There are two prefixes in the negative verb that are not used in the positive verb form, and the stem takes a different form (des versus dets) in the two verbs. In Tsilhqot’in, negative forms of verbs combine with a negative particle to form negative sentences. A positive and negative sentence pair are provided in (38).

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(38)                

 Leslie Saxon

Contrasting positive and negative sentences in Tsilhqot’in (negative particle bolded) (Cook 2013: 504; interlinearization added) Positive sentence lhuy hen-yan fish 2sg.s.impf-eat ‘eat fish!’ Negative sentence lha lhuy ŝin-yán neg fish neg.2sg.s.ipv-eat.neg ‘don’t eat fish!’

Lovick and Tuttle (2019) discuss methods for investigating negative sentences of particular types in Alaskan Dene languages. Lovick (2020a) provides an important overview of the formation of negative sentences across all of the northern Dene languages, and Fernald and Perkins (to appear) discuss negation comprehensively in a forthcoming grammar of Diné bizaad. In discussions of negative sentences, the term ‘negative polarity item’ refers to a word or phrase that is limited to appearing in negative sentences. Negative verb forms are an obvious type of negative polarity item, but in addition nouns and adverbs as negative polarity items have been identified in some Dene languages, including Diné bizaad (Hale and Platero 2000; Fernald and Perkins To appear) and Tłı̨ chǫ. In (39a), the indefinite pronoun in Diné bizaad há’át’íí-da ‘anything’ must be preceded in the sentence by the negative particle doo, and the verb also is marked with the negative enclitic da. (39)                  

Negative polarity items (negative polarity items bolded) a. Diné bizaad (Hale and Platero 2000: 73)   Shi-zhé’é doo há’át’íí-da nayiisnii’-da.   my-father neg what-da 3.p.3.buy-da   ‘My father didn’t buy anything’ b. Tłı̨ chǫ (Tłı̨ chǫ Community Services Agency 2005–; interlinearization added)   Gıgha nedà t’à ı̨ kaa nagıage whìle.   Gıgha nedà t’à ı̨ kaa nagıage whìle.   3pl.for 3sg.s.be_heavy because barely 3pl.s.prog.carry not_exist   ‘Because it’s heavy for them they are barely carrying it’

The Tłı̨ chǫ negative polarity adverb ı̨ kaa ‘barely’ is only used if the sentence has the negative auxiliary whìle ‘there is nothing’. The sentence is incomplete without this auxiliary. More negative polarity items have been identified in these two languages, but in general not very much has been written about this subject, which combines sentential and semantic characteristics in Dene languages.



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39.9.2 The semantics and expression of quotative and propositional verbs When we speak we are most often expressing our own thoughts or perceptions, but often too we may refer to what someone else said or had in mind. For this purpose languages are equipped with quotative verbs like ‘say, tell, ask’ and propositional (or attitude) verbs like ‘think, believe, know, want, doubt’, to allow speakers to reflect on other people’s realities. In expressions involving quotative and propositional verbs, Dene languages have patterns that allow many nuances without making use of infinitives as are found in English sentences such as she asked me to close the window or they want to open the door. For reporting someone else’s speech or thought, in Dene languages speakers have ways to shift the perspective away from themselves onto someone else. An example from Tłı̨ chǫ illustrates this type of pattern. It is from a story by Harriet Erasmus about how she and her grandmother persuaded her grandfather to teach her to drive. The sentence in (40) is a quotation from her grandmother. (40)

           

Tłı̨ chǫ expression with shifted perspective (verb with shifted perspective bolded) (Harriet Erasmus, from Tłı̨ chǫ Community Services Agency 2007/2010: 134; interlinearization and translation added) “Harìyè dàanì behchı̨ ı̨ ̀ k’èhdìı hoghàsęęhtǫ nèhdı.” Harìyè dàanì behchı̨ ı̨ ̀ k’èhdìı hoghàsęęhtǫ Harriet how vehicle 1sg.s.ipv.drive.nom 1sg.o.2sg.s.ipv.teach nèhdı. 2sg.o.3sg.s.ask ‘Harriet is asking you to teach her how to drive’

The embedded verb (bolded) translates literally as ‘you teach me’. In this pattern, Harriet’s request for her grandfather to teach her is expressed from Harriet’s own perspective, ‘teach me’. Many Dene languages have quotative and propositional verbs that introduce shifted perspectives. There are discussions of this phenomenon (also called ‘direct discourse interpretations’) in Dene language references by Elizabeth Bogal-Allbritten, Evangeline Parsons-Yazzie, Paul Platero, Brian Potter, Keren Rice, Leslie Saxon, Ellen Schauber, Peggy Speas, Mary Willie, and others. The precise details of perspective shifting are not the same across languages, but are described in the grammars of individual languages. Amy Rose Deal (2020) includes discussion of Diné bizaad and Mackenzie Valley Dene in her theoretical study, A theory of indexical shift: Meaning, grammar, and crosslinguistic variation. Elizabeth Bogal-Allbritten’s (2016) dissertation on Diné bizaad syntax and semantics devotes a section to a detailed discussion of the Diné bizaad verb nisin ‘think, want, wish’. She discusses how its different interpretations depend on particular facets of the whole sentence, including the use of different particles and aspectual information encoded in the embedded clause. Similar verbs and their patterning have been described in several

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other languages. Below we see perspective shifting with propositional verbs from Diné bizaad, Dëne, and Kaska. The propositional verbs in all three examples are cognate. The first person subject of the embedded verb (bolded in the examples) refers to the person whose mental state is being reported (Kii, the woman, and Old Bob), instead of the usual case where first person (“I”) refers to whoever is speaking at the time. (41)                                      

Perspective shifting with propositional verbs (verb with shifted perspective bolded) a. Diné bizaad (Bogal-Allbritten 2016: 76)   Kii [yiską́ ągo Kinłánígóó deeshááł] nízin.   Kii yiską́ ągo Kinłánígóó deeshááł nízin.   Kii tomorrow Flagstaff.to 1S.go.fut 3S.att.impf   ‘Kii wants to go to Flagstaff tomorrow’   [reporting that Kii said, ‘I will go to Flagstaff on Sunday’] b. Dëne (Cook 2004: 362)   ts’ą́ kui [yawasti] nįdhën.   Ts’ą́ kui yawasti nįdhën.   Woman I-talk(opt) 3-think   ‘the woman wants to talk’   lit. ‘the womani thinks “Ii should talk”’ c. Kaska (from Mary Charlie’s story ‘Old Bob and Są̄ Gut’ine’, Moore 2002: 109)   “Tū dūdā! Tū kusyāI tea enénúsdzili,” nezeni.   “Tū dūdā! Tū kusyāi tea enénúsdzili,”   Water doesn’t matter water I’ll go for tea 1sg.will warm for self   nezeni.   3sg.[Old Bob] thought   ‘“Water! It doesn’t matter [what he does]; I’ll go get some water to use to make tea for myself,” Old Bob thought’

As Moore 2002 and other authors have pointed out, these ways of using language have roles to play in establishing point of view in a narrative or conversation, and therefore stand as important elements of the semantic landscape of Dene languages.

39.10 Conclusion Gwich’in scholar and educator Hishinlai’ Peter suggests that an important reason for some people to learn Gwich’in or other Indigenous languages is to “be able to understand what is so funny in the language” (Peter 2019: 1), and she mentions a number of times how important humour is to her language, culture, and her language learning. Speaking Dene languages can be fun and funny, partly because of the vast potential for making meaning through putting words and sentences together (Hishinlai’ personal



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communication; Rosa Mantla personal communication; Fibbie Tatti personal communication; Laura Tutcho personal communication; Basso 1979; Frank 2003; Webster 2010; Peterson and Webster 2013). Understanding semantic relationships and how conversations and stories work helps a lot in getting the humour and finding a Dene identity in a nation’s worldview. Acknowledgements: I thank the editors and reviewers for their advice, patience, and consideration, and acknowledge the many knowledge-holders, colleagues, and friends who have worked over the years to teach me. I am grateful to the Interlibrary Loan staff of the University of Victoria Libraries for their great assistance during the pandemic. Thank you to Melvatha Chee, Willem de Reuse, Alessandro Jaker, Patrick Moore, Keren Rice, Jasmine Spencer, and Nicholas Welch for their advice and suggestions for improvement in the chapter.

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Morris, Kāshā Julie Ann. 2017. K’asba’e T’oh: sustaining the intergenerational transmission of Tāłtān. Victoria: University of Victoria MA thesis. https://dspace.library.uvic.ca/handle/1828/8544 (accessed 23 November 2021). Nahanni, Phoebe. 1992. Dene women in the traditional and modern northern economy in Denendeh, Northwest Territories, Canada. Montreal: McGill University MA thesis. https://escholarship.mcgill.ca/concern/ theses/9k41zf66n (accessed 23 November 2021). Norwegian, Andy & Philip Howard (eds.). 2004. A dictionary of the verbs of South Slavey. 2nd edn. Fort Simpson: Dehcho Divisional Education Council. Palakurthy, Kayla. 2021. The status of sibilant harmony in Diné Bizaad (Navajo). Journal of the International Phonetic Association. doi: 10.1017/S0025100321000220. Parsons-Yazzie, Evangeline. 1995. A study of reasons for Navajo language attrition as perceived by Navajospeaking parents. Flagstaff: Northern Arizona University dissertation. Parsons-Yazzie, Evangeline and Margaret Speas. 2007. Diné bizaad bínáhoo’aah: rediscovering the Navajo language. Flagstaff: Salina Bookshelf. Pete, Shem. 2016 [1987]. Shem Pete’s Alaska: the territory of the Upper Cook Inlet Dena’ina. Edited by James Kari & James Fall. 3rd edn. Fairbanks: Alaska Native Language Centre. Perkins, Ellavina. 1978. The role of word order and scope in the interpretation of Navajo sentences. Tucson: University of Arizona dissertation. Perkins, Ellavina. 1982. The extraposition of relative clauses in Navajo. International Journal of American Linguistics 48(3). 277–85. Pete, Donovan. 2020. Haish Diné bizaad neidínóotííł: “Who’s going to teach the Navajo language?”. Tucson: University of Arizona MA thesis. https://repository.arizona.edu/bitstream/handle/10150/642075/ azu_etd_18166_sip1_m.pdf?sequence=1 Peter, Hishinlai’. 2019. Adult ancestral language learning and effects on identity. Fairbanks: University of Alaska dissertation. Peterson, Leighton C. 1997. Tuning in to Navajo: the role of radio in Native language maintenance. In Jon Reyhnor (ed.), Teaching Indigenous Languages, 214–221. Flagstaff: Northern Arizona University. Peterson, Leighton C. and Anthony K. Webster. 2013. Speech play and language ideologies in Navajo terminology development. Pragmatics 23(1). 93–116 Petitot, Emile. 1876. Dictionnaire de la langue dènè-dindjiè, dialectes montagnais ou chippewayan, peaux de lièvre et loucheux: enfermant en outre un grand nombre de termes propres à sept autres dialectes de la même langue; précédé d’une monographie des Dènè-dindjiè, d’une grammaire et de tableaux synoptiques des conjugaisons. Paris and San Francisco: E. Leroux & A. L. Bancroft. https://www.canadiana.ca/view/ oocihm.15858/3?r=0&s=1 (accessed 12 November 2021). Petitot, Émile. 1886. Traditions indiennes du Canada Nord-Quest. Paris: G.P. Maisoneuve & Larose. https:// www.canadiana.ca/view/oocihm.15869/1?r=0&s=1 (accessed 12 November 2021). Petitot, Émile. 1888. Traditions indiennes du Canada nord-ouest: textes originaux & traduction littérale. Alençon: E. Renaut-de Broise. https://www.canadiana.ca/view/oocihm.15870/1?r=0&s=1 (accessed 12 November 2021). Platero, Paul. 1974. The Navajo relative clause. International Journal of American Linguistics 40. 365–424. Platero, Paul. 1978. Missing noun phrases in Navajo. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology dissertation. Platero, Paul. 1982. Missing noun phrases and grammatical relations in Navajo. International Journal of American Linguistics 48. 289–305. Poser, Bill (compiler). 2020. Lheidli Dakelh dictionary. http://www.billposer.org/LheidliCarrierDictionary/ (accessed 10 August 2020). Potter, Brian. 1997. Wh / indefinites and the structure of the clause in Western Apache. Los Angeles: University of California dissertation.



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Rice, Keren. 1989. A grammar of Slave. Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Rice, Keren. 1994. Laryngeal features in Athapaskan languages. Phonology 11(1). 107–147. Rice, Keren. 2000. Morpheme order and semantic scope: word formation in the Athapaskan verb. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rice, Keren. 2009. Athapaskan: Slave. In Rochelle Lieber & Pavol Štekauer (eds.), The Oxford handbook of compounding, 542–563. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rice, Keren. 2020, February 28. Morphology in Dene languages. Oxford research encyclopedia of linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rice, Keren & Eung-Do Cook. 1989. Introduction. In Eung-Do Cook & Keren Rice (eds.), Athapaskan linguistics: current perspectives on a language family, 1–61. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Rice, Keren & Willem de Reuse. 2017. Athabaskan (Dene) language family. In Alexandra Y. Aikhenvald & R. M. W. Dixon (eds.), Cambridge handbook of linguistic typology, 683–706. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rice, Keren & Leslie Saxon. 2005. Comparative Athapaskan syntax: arguments and projections. In Guglielmo Cinque & Richard S. Kayne (eds.), The Oxford handbook of comparative syntax, 698–774. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rice, Sally. 1998. Giving and taking in Chipewyan: the semantics of THING marking classificatory verbs. In John Newman (ed.), The linguistics of giving, 97–134. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Rice, Sally. 2002. Posture and existence predicates in Dene Sųłiné (Chipewyan): lexical and semantic density as a function of the ‘stand’/ ‘sit’/ ‘lie’ continuum. In John Newman (ed.), The linguistics of sitting, standing and lying, 61–78. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Rice, Sally. 2009. Athapaskan eating and drinking verbs and constructions. In John Newman (ed.), The linguistics of eating and drinking, 109–152. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Rice, Sally. 2014. Corporeal incorporation and extension in Dene Sųłiné [Athapaskan] lexicalization. In Matthias Brenzinger & Iwona Kraska-Szlenk (eds.), The body in language: comparative studies of linguistic embodiment, 71–97. Leiden: Brill. Rushforth, Scott & Fibbie Tatti. 1980. Bearlake Athabaskan verb stems: the ‘controlled’-‘uncontrolled’ distinction. Presented at the Symposium on comparative Athabaskan linguistics and language planning. Albuquerque, University of New Mexico, 7–10 July. Sam, Avis, Sherry Damit-Barnes & Darlene Northway. 2021. Ts’exeey iin naabia niign xah nahiholnegn: lomen tell stories about Northway. Edited by Olga Lovick & Caleb D. Brucks. Fairbanks: Alaska Native Language Center. Sammons, Olivia N. This volume. Chapter 18. Conversation structure. Sandoval, M. 1984. The syntactic function of the yi-/bi- alternation in Jicarilla Apache. In Stuart Davis (ed.), Coyote papers: working papers in linguistics from A-Z, studies on Native American languages, Japanese and Spanish, 153–190. Tucson: University of Arizona. https://repository.arizona.edu/bitstream/ handle/10150/226544/cpv-153-190.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y (accessed 29 November 2021). Sapir, E. 1915. The Na-Dene languages: a preliminary report. American Anthropologist 17(3). 534–558. Saville-Troike, Muriel. 1996. Development of the inflected verb in Navajo child language. In Eloise Jelinek, Sally Midgette, Keren Rice & Leslie Saxon (eds.), Athabaskan language studies: essays in honor of Robert W. Young, 137–192. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Saxon, Leslie. 1986. The syntax of pronouns in Dogrib (Athapaskan): some theoretical consequences. San Diego: University of California dissertation. Saxon, Leslie. 1989. Lexical versus syntactic projection: the configurationality of Slave. In E.-D. Cook & Keren D. Rice (eds.), Athapaskan linguistics: current perspectives on a language family, Trends in Linguistics State-of-the-Art Reports 15, 379–406. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Saxon, Leslie. 2003. The complementizer *Gu’ in Athapaskan: its reflex in Dogrib. In Yunhee Chung, Carrie Gillon & Rachel Wojdak (eds.), Proceedings of WSCLA VIII: the eighth Workshop on Structure

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and Constituency in the Languages of the Americas, 59–74. (UBC Working Papers in Linguistics 12). Vancouver: University of British Columbia. Saxon, Leslie. 2020. The Tłı̨ chǫ syntactic causative and non-nominal CPs. In Bronwyn Bjorkman & Daniel Currie Hall (eds.), Contrast and Representations in Syntax, 141–165. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Saxon, Leslie & Andrea Wilhelm. 2016. The “possessed noun suffix” and possession in two Northern Dene (Athabaskan) languages. International Journal of American Linguistics 82(1). 35–70. Schauber, Ellen. 1979. The syntax and semantics of questions in Navajo. New York: Garland. Shaw, Patricia A. 1991. Consonant harmony systems: the special status of coronal harmony. In Carole Paradis & Jean-François Prunet, (eds.), Phonetics and phonology 2: the special status of coronals, 125–157. San Diego: Academic Press. Sikorski, Hishinlai’ “K.R.” 2008. Classroom culture and Indigenous classrooms. Fairbanks: University of Alaska MA thesis. Siletz Dee-ni Language Project. 2007. Siletz online talking dictionary. Compiled by Gregory D.S. Anderson & K. David Harrison. Living Tongues Institute for Endangered Languages. http://siletz.talkingdictionary. org (accessed 29 November 2021). Smith, Carlota S. 1997. The parameter of aspect. 2nd edn. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Smith, Carlota S., Ellavina T. Perkins & Theodore B. Fernald. 2007. Time in Navajo: direct and indirect interpretation. International Journal of American Linguistics 73. 40–71. Smith, Linda. 2005. Tsilhqut’in narrative: scenes from Lhindesch’osh across disciplines. In Suzanne Gessner (ed.), Proceedings of the 2005 Athabaskan Languages Conference, 100–127. Fairbanks: Alaska Native Language Center. Smith, Linda R. 2008. Suwh-ts’eghedudinh: the Tsinlhqut’in niminh spiritual path. Victoria: University of Victoria MA thesis. Smith, Linda R. 2011. Beghad jigwedetaghelɁanx: a Yuneŝit’in and Xeni Gwet’in project. Yuneŝit’in: Yuneŝit’in Government. South Slave Divisional Education Council. 2012. Dëne dédlıné yatıé ɂerehtł’íscho. Denínu Kuę́ yatıé. Chipewyan dictionary. Fort Smith: South Slave Divisional Education Council. https://www.ssdec.net/_files/ ugd/072827_ec9a31ee98dd4832a2154aaf5c921874.pdf (accessed 16 February 2023). South Slave Divisional Education Council. 2014. Dëné sǫłıné yatıé ɂerehtł’ís. Łuskëlk’e T’ıné yatıé. Chipewyan dictionary. Fort Smith: South Slave Divisional Education Council. https://www.ssdec.net/_files/ ugd/072827_af63e2053f374c60a35fdead8fea49f9.pdf (accessed 16 February 2023). Speas, Margaret. 1990. Phrase structure in natural language. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers. Speas, Margaret, and Evangeline Parsons Yazzie. 1996. Quantifiers and the position of noun phrases in Navajo. In Eloise Jelinek, Sally Midgette, Keren Rice & Leslie Saxon (eds.), Athabaskan language studies: essays in honor of Robert W. Young, 35–80. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Spencer, Jasmine. 2022. Telling animals: animacies in Dene narratives. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Taff, Alice and Donna Miller MacAlpine. 2007. Deg Xinag ałixi ni’elyoy: the local language is gathered together. Fairbanks: Alaska Native Knowledge Network. http://ankn.uaf.edu/ANL/course/view.php?id=7 (accessed 10 August 2020). Taff, Alice, Melvatha Chee, Jaeci Hall, Millie Yéi Dulitseen Hall, Kawenniyóhstha Nicole Martin & Annie Johnston. 2018. Indigenous language use impacts wellness. In Kenneth L. Rehg & Lyle Campbell (eds.), The Oxford handbook of endangered languages. 862–884. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Tatti, Fibbie. 2015. The wind waits for no one/ Nı̨hts’ı dene ası̨ ́ henáoréhɂı̨ ́le ǫt’e: spirituality in a Sahtúgot’ı̨nę perspective. Victoria: University of Victoria MA thesis. https://dspace.library.uvic.ca/handle/1828/6113 (accessed 16 February 2023). Thom, Margaret & Ethel Blondin-Townsend, eds. 1987. Nahecho keh: our elders. Slavey Research Project. Fort Providence: Secretary of State.



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Welch, Nicholas. 2016. Propping up predicates: adjectives and agreement in Tłı̨ chǫ Yatıı.̀ Glossa 1(1–2). 1–23. Werner, Oswald, Martha Austin-Garrison & Kenneth Begishe. 1996. On the importance of “thought” in Navajo philosophy. In Eloise Jelinek, Sally Midgette, Keren Rice & Leslie Saxon (eds.), Athabaskan language studies: essays in honor of Robert W. Youngy, 407–442. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Wiens, Jeanette Rhoda Peters. 2014. Code-switching and language ideology in a northern Dene community. Regina: University of Regina thesis. Wilhelm, A. 2006. Telicity and durativity: a study of aspect in Dëne Sųłıné (Chipewyan) and German. New York: Routledge. Wilhelm, Andrea. 2008. Bare nouns and number in Dëne Sųłiné. Natural Language Semantics 16. 39–68. Willie, MaryAnn. 1989. Why there is nothing missing in Navajo relative clauses. In Eung-Do Cook & Keren Rice (eds.), Athapaskan linguistics: current perspectives on a language family, 360–82. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Willie, MaryAnn. 1991. Pronouns and obviation in Navajo. Tucson: University of Arizona dissertation. Willie, MaryAnn. 1996. On the expression of modality in Navajo. In Eloise Jelinek, Sally Midgette, Keren Rice & Leslie Saxon (eds.), Athabaskan language studies: essays in honor of Robert W. Young, 331–347. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Willie, MaryAnn. 2000. The inverse voice and possessive yi-/bi- in Navajo. International Journal of American Linguistics 66(3). 360–382. Willie, MaryAnn & Eloise Jelinek. 2000. Navajo as a discourse configurational language. In Theodore Fernald & Paul Platero (eds.), The Athabaskan languages: perspectives on a native Language family, 252–287. New York: Oxford University Press. Witherspoon, Gary. 1977. Language and art in the Navajo universe. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press. Witsuwit’en Language and Culture Society. 2022. Witsuwit’en hibikinic: Witsuwit’en-English and English-Witsuwit’en. Compiled by Sharon Hargus. Witset B.C.: Witsuwit’en Language and Culture Society. https:// depts.washington.edu/witdict/index.php (accessed 18 July 2022). Young, Robert W. 2000. The Navajo verb system: an overview. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Young, Robert & William Morgan. 1989. The Navajo language: a grammar and colloquial dictionary, revised edition. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Young, Robert & William Morgan. 2000. The function and signification of certain Navaho particles. In Theodore Fernald & Paul Platero (eds.), The Athabaskan Languages: perspectives on a Native Language Family, 288–317. New York: Oxford University Press.

Will Oxford

40 Algonquian Abstract: The traditional territories of Algonquian-speaking peoples cover a vast area of North America. This chapter provides a brief description of the Algonquian language family. The chapter begins by situating the Algonquian languages in broader contexts of geography, history, vitality, and documentation. This is followed by a brief sketch of Algonquian phonology, morphology, and syntax. Three distinctive properties found across the family are then illustrated: grammatical animacy, obviation, and direct-inverse marking.

40.1 Algonquian languages in context The Algonquian [ælˈɡɑŋkijən] language family is named after one of its members, Algonquin [ælˈɡɑŋkwən]; the word Algonquin, in turn, is thought to derive from a word that means ‘they are our allies’ in the Eastern Algonquian language Maliseet (Day 1972).

40.1.1 Geography The Algonquian languages are distantly related to the Yurok and Wiyot languages of California (Haas 1958; Goddard 1975), forming a larger grouping known as the Algic family. The approximate historical locations of Algic speech communities are shown on the map in Figure 1, based on Goddard (1996). The present-day equivalent of this map would be more disjointed due to the many population movements that followed European colonization.

Fig. 1: Algic languages with traditional classification https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-040

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40.1.2 History In traditional classifications, Yurok and Wiyot are grouped together as “Ritwan” languages (e.  g. Berman 1982), and the Algonquian languages are sorted into Plains, Central, and Eastern groups, as shown in Figure 1. This grouping is motivated mainly by geography and provides little insight into the historical relationships among the languages. A more historically valid classification is shown in Figure 2, following Goddard (1994, 2018). All but two of the groups in Figure 2 are true genetic branches. The two exceptions are (1) the languages that lose the contrast between the sounds */θ/ and */r/, which were distinct in Proto-Algonquian, the ancestor of the modern Algonquian languages (Bloomfield 1946: 87); and (2) the Core Central languages, which Goddard (1994) describes as “dialectal” groupings that share certain innovations but are not full-fledged genetic branches. Algic Algonquian-Blackfoot Core Algonquian Arapaho-Gros Ventre Cree-Innu-Naskapi Languages that merge *θ and *r Cheyenne Menominee Core Central Algonquian Meskwaki-Sauk-Kickapoo Miami-Illinois Shawnee Ojibwe-Potawatomi Ojibwe-Algonquin Potawatomi Eastern Algonquian (cont’d) Blackfoot Yurok Wiyot

Eastern Algonquian Mi’kmaq Maliseet-Passamaquoddy Eastern Abenaki Western Abenaki Southern New England Algonquian Massachusett Narragansett Mohegan-Pequot-Montauk Quiripi-Unquachog Loup Mahican Delaware Munsee Unami Nanticoke Powhatan Pamlico

Alternate names: Gros Ventre = Atsina; Innu = Montagnais; Meskwaki = Fox; Ojibwe-Algonquin = ­Anishinaabemowin; Miami-Illinois = Myaamia; Mi’kmaq = Mi’gmaq, Mi’kmaw, Micmac; Massachusett = Natick, Wampanoag; Loup = Nipmuck; Delaware = Lenape; Powhatan = Virginia Algonquian; Pamlico = Carolina Algonquian. Eastern Abenaki includes the Penobscot dialect. Fig. 2: Genetic/dialectal classification of Algic languages (based on Goddard 1978, 1994, 2018)

40.1.3 Vitality Present-day linguistic vitality varies widely. All of the languages have been affected to some extent by language shift, usually to English or French, but sometimes to another

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Algonquian language; most speakers of Potawatomi, for example, shifted to speaking Ojibwe (Rhodes 2020: 565). The population of fluent native speakers numbers in the tens of thousands for Cree-Innu-Naskapi and Ojibwe-Algonquin, in the thousands for Mi’kmaq, Blackfoot, and Cheyenne, in the hundreds for Maliseet-Passamaquoddy, Meskwaki-Sauk-Kickapoo, Shawnee, and Arapaho, and in the tens (at most) for Menominee, Potawatomi, Abenaki, and Delaware. All other Algonquian languages no longer have first-language speakers. Among the languages with larger numbers of native speakers, there are still some communities in which children acquire the language at home as their mother tongue; in Chisasibi, Quebec, for example, the transmission of East Cree was sufficiently strong to support a large-scale study of first-language acquisition in the early 2000s (Brittain et al. 2007). The more usual situation, however, is for most fluent native speakers to be above a certain age. Even in communities with strong intergenerational transmission, there may still be signs of incipient language shift: Morris and MacKenzie (2016), for example, assessed the lexical knowledge of children in an Innu community in which the language is used by people of all ages in a variety of domains. Despite the apparent strength of the language, children showed far better recognition of basic vocabulary in French than in Innu.

40.1.4 Revitalization Concerted efforts are underway across the territories of Algonquian peoples to maintain, revitalize, and reclaim the languages. In communities with larger numbers of fluent adult speakers, pressing needs include spelling standardization and literacy training (e.  g. Baraby 2002 for Innu), development of new vocabulary in specialized areas such as law, medicine, and education (e.  g. MacKenzie and O’Keefe 2009 for Innu; Treuer and Paap 2009 for Ojibwe), refinement of pedagogical approaches (e.  g. Sarkar and Metallic 2009 for Mi’gmaq), and incorporation of the language into the state education system. Immersion programs have been established for many of the languages; see Burnaby et al. (1998) for discussion of a particularly successful example, the Cree Language of Instruction Project in northern Quebec. In communities with fewer fluent adult speakers, the individualized mentor-apprentice method has become increasingly popular, as discussed in a Cree context by McIvor and Jacobs (this volume). In communities whose languages went through a period of dormancy, active language reclamation projects now exist for Massachusett/Wôpanâak (Ash, Fermino & Hale 2001) and Miami-Illinois/ Myaamia (Leonard 2008; Baldwin & Costa 2018). Language revitalization efforts are supported by the development of sophisticated online resources (e.  g. Junker & Stewart 2008; Genee & Junker 2018) and smartphone apps (Cassels & Farr 2019), as discussed further by Surma and Truong (this volume).

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40.1.5 Documentation The documentation of the Algonquian family stretches back to the 1600s (Eliot 1663; Nicolas 1672–1674) and comprehensive descriptions exist for many of the languages. The biggest gap in documentation involves the several Eastern Algonquian languages that had become dormant by the early 20th century (Goddard 1978). Modern descriptions use an elaborate framework of Algonquian-specific terminology codified by Bloomfield (1946, 1962) and refined by Goddard (1969, 1990a). Significant modern reference grammars exist for Menominee (Bloomfield 1962), Plains Cree (Wolfart 1973), Massachusett (Goddard & Bragdon 1988), Blackfoot (Frantz 1991), Ojibwe (Valentine 2001), Miami-Illinois (Costa 2003), Arapaho (Cowell & Moss 2008), Innu (Drapeau 2014), and Unami (Goddard 2021), along with detailed textbooks written by native speakers of Cree (Ahenakew 1987; Okimāsis 2018) and Ojibwe (Ningewance 2004). Online resources have expanded greatly in recent years and it is becoming increasingly common for audio and/ or video recordings to be provided alongside written records, as in the Ojibwe People’s Dictionary (Nichols 2015), the Blackfoot Stories Archive (Bliss 2015–2020), and the Passamaquoddy-Maliseet Language Portal (Leavitt and Levine n.d.).

40.2 Introduction to Algonquian language structures This section sketches the basic properties of Algonquian phonology1, morphology, and syntax.

40.2.1 Phonology The phoneme inventories of a representative sample of Algonquian languages are given in Figures 3 and 4, covering Miami-Illinois (Costa 2003), Plains Cree (Wolfart 1973), Ojibwe (Valentine 2001), Massachusett (Goddard & Bragdon 1988), and Cheyenne (Goddard 2000). Vowel inventories range in size from 3 phonemes (Cheyenne) to 12 phonemes (Menominee, Unami Delaware) and usually include a length contrast. Consonant inventories range in size from 10 phonemes (Plains Cree) to 17 phonemes (Ojibwe) and 1 In the phonology section, data are presented as broad phonemic IPA transcriptions (e.  g., Innu /amiʃkw/ ‘beaver’). In all other sections, data are presented in the orthography used in the source (e.  g., Innu amishku ‘beaver’). The following abbreviations appear in glosses: an=animate; dim=diminutive; dir=direct; dub=dubitative; fut=future; ic=initial change (ablaut process); in=inanimate; (in)trans=(in) transitive; inv=inverse; irr=irrealis; neg=negative; obj=object; obv=obviative; perf=perfective; pl=plural; poss=possessor; pret=preterit; px=proximate; q=question; refl=reflexive; sg=singular.

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usually lack both voicing contrasts and labiodentals such as /f/. Many Ojibwe varieties, however, have developed a voicing contrast due to a shift in which original stops and fricatives became contrastively voiced (e.  g., */t/ > /d/, */s/ > /z/) and original /hC/ clusters became contrastively voiceless consonants (e.  g. */ht/ > /t/, */hs/ > /s/) (Rhodes & Todd 1981), as in Proto-Algonquian */atehteː-/ ‘be dyed’ > Ojibwe /aditeː-/. iː

i

eː

e

oː

o

aː

a

iː

i

eː

Miami-Illinois

oː

o

aː

a

iː eː

Plains Cree iː

aː

a

oː

o

aː

a

Ojibwe

uː

ə

i

e

o

ɑ̃ː

a

Massachusett

Cheyenne

Fig. 3: Vowel inventories

p

m w

t

tʃ

s

ʃ

n l

j

k

p

t

h

ts

k

s m w

Miami-Illinois

p b

h

n

m w

j

Plains Cree p

t s

m w

n

Massachusett

tj

tʃ

p h

j

tʃ dʒ ʃ ʒ

k ɡ

h

j

Ojibwe

k

ʃ

t d s z n

v m

t s

ʃ

k

ʔ

x

h

n

Cheyenne

Fig. 4: Consonant inventories

Syllable structure was highly constrained in Proto-Algonquian (PA), the ancestor of the modern Algonquian languages, and a description of PA syllable structure provides a useful starting point for understanding syllable structure in the modern languages. The maximal syllable shape in PA was CGVC, where G is a glide (/w/ or /j/) and C is a non-glide

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consonant (Oxford 2016; cf. Bloomfield 1946: 93). Several of the possible syllable shapes are exemplified by PA */aːnweːhtamwa/ ‘s/he disbelieves it’ (/aː/ V, /nweːh/ CGVC, /ta/ CV, /mwa/ CGV). Clusters of non-glide consonants occurred only word-medially when the coda consonant of one syllable was followed by the onset consonant of the next syllable (e.  g. /ht/ in the example above). The content of the coda was tightly restricted: certain consonants could not occur in coda position (*/p, t, tʃ, k/) and others occurred only before certain onset consonants (e.  g. */ʃk/ was possible, as in */aʃken-/ ‘be raw’, but not */ʃθ, ʃʃ, ʃn, ʃr/). The set of consonant clusters actually found was thus much smaller than the set of logically possible consonant combinations. Coda consonants never occurred in word-final syllables, so all PA words ended with a vowel (e.  g. */ameθkwa/ ‘beaver’). A broadly similar description of syllable structure can be given for many of the daughter languages, although the loss of word-final vowels in several languages has created word-final consonants or clusters that would not have been possible in the parent language. For example, PA */ameθkwa/ ‘beaver’ became Innu /amiʃkw/, with word-final /ʃkw/ from what was originally a sequence of a coda (*/θ/) and an onset (*/kw/). A more drastic departure from PA is found in languages that delete unstressed vowels, such as Unami Delaware (Goddard 1979) and some Ojibwe dialects (Rhodes & Todd 1981: 58; Bowers 2019), creating sequences of consonants that go well beyond the original CGVC template. For example, in Unami Delaware, the earlier form */nəkətəxkwəsiː/ ‘I crawl out’ became /nkətxkwsi/ (Goddard 1979: xvi), with initial /nk/ and medial /txkws/. Phonological processes are not abundant in PA and phonologically conservative languages such as Meskwaki and Miami-Illinois, and most of the processes that do exist apply only to certain morphemes, as observed for Meskwaki by Wier (2004: 426). The most prominent processes in PA were the shift of */t, θ/ to */tʃ, ʃ/ before */iː, i, j/ (Kaye 1978; Piggott 1978)—a process known as “palatalization”, since it shifts the position of the tongue closer to the hard palate—and the coalescence of certain glide-vowel sequences to single vowels (also called “contraction”, as in Bloomfield 1946: 92). These processes are reflected in most daughter languages, as exemplified for Passamaquoddy in (1b) and (2b). (1)        

Palatalization of /t/ to /tʃ/ before /i/ 640) a. /epit/ b.   ic.əpi -t     ic.sit -3     ‘s/he who sits’  

in Passamaquoddy (Francis & Leavitt 2008:

(2)        

Coalescence of /uwə/ to /a/ in Passamaquoddy (Francis & Leavitt 2008: 684) a. /nuleyuwa/ b. /nuleyakw/   n- uleyuw -a n- uleyuw -əkw   1- treat.well -dir 1- treat.well -inv   ‘I treat him/her well’ ‘s/he treats me well’

/epitʃik/ ic.əpi -t -ik ic.sit -3 -an.pl ‘they who sit’

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In most languages, conditioned sound changes have created new phonological alternations, such as velar palatalization in Innu (MacKenzie 1980) and vowel harmony in Menominee (Milligan 2000). Cheyenne and Arapaho-Gros Ventre, the most phonologically innovative members of the family, have developed many such alternations, resulting in a complex synchronic phonology entirely unlike that of PA and the more conservative languages (Goddard 1974). The languages show considerable variation with respect to tone, accent, and stress. Contrastive tone, in which the pitch of the voice is used to distinguish different words, has developed in Cheyenne (Leman 1981) and Innu (Cowan 1983), e.  g., Innu /ustáːʃkw/ ‘ax’, /ustàːʃkw/ ‘axes’. Some languages have pitch accent, in which the accented syllable in a word is pronounced with a special pitch, e.  g., Blackfoot /ápssiwa/ ‘it’s an arrow’, /apssíwa/ ‘it’s a fig’ (Frantz 1991: 3). Most languages have regular stress patterns in which stress falls on every second syllable in a word, as in Plains Cree /ˌpa.sa.ˌkwaː. pi.ˈsi.mo.ˌwin/ ‘shut-eye dance’ (Wolfart 1996: 431), although long vowels often attract stress regardless of their position in the word. Surveys of stress patterns in Algonquian languages are given by Hayes (1995: 211–221), Milligan (2005: 27–36), and Rice (2010: 163–170). The primary phonetic manifestation of stress is vowel deletion: many of the languages allow short vowels to be reduced or deleted when unstressed but not when stressed (see e.  g., Dyck et al. 2014 for East Cree). The Ojibwe word /ɡi.ˈda.ɡo.ˌʃin/ ‘you arrive’, for example, can be pronounced [ɡdʌɡʃɪn] in the Nishnaabemwin dialects ­(Valentine 2001: 52), with the unstressed short vowels in syllables 1 and 3 deleted but the stressed short vowels in syllables 2 and 4 retained.

40.2.2 Morphology Algonquian languages have rich systems of derivational and inflectional morphology. The stems of verbs and nouns are often morphologically complex, following a three-part template: initial + medial + final (Bloomfield 1946; Goddard 1990a). The initial contributes the basic meaning of the stem, the medial is an optional noun-like element, and the final establishes the grammatical properties of the stem. Two tripartite verb stems from Menominee are exemplified in (3). It is also possible to derive a stem from another stem; the Menominee nouns in (4), for example, are all derived from verb stems. (3)        

Menominee tripartite verb stems (Bloomfield 1946: 118) a. kenuahkoseb. saka·pi·n  kenw -ahkw -ɛse   sak -a·pi· -ɛn   long -wood -be.anim   seize -string -do.to.anim.by.hand   ‘to be a tall tree (anim)’   ‘to hold anim by string, by reins’

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Menominee nouns derived from verb stems (Bloomfield 1962: 233–239) a. pema·tesewen ‘life’, from verb pema·tese- ‘to live’ b. nepa·kan ‘bed’, from verb nepa·- ‘to sleep’ c. a·sokan ‘bridge’, from verb a·sokɛ·- ‘to cross over’ d. no·na·kan ‘breast, nipple’, from verb no·ne- ‘to breastfeed’

The semantic compositionality of Algonquian stems led Sapir (1921: 244) to state that “single Algonkin words are like tiny imagist poems.” Sapir’s observation echoes a comment that I have heard from several Ojibwe speakers, who find that, compared to English, Ojibwe is “a very descriptive language.” The nouns derived from verb stems in (4) also illustrate the centrality of verbs in the Algonquian lexicon: many concepts that an English speaker would regard as inherently nominal, such as ‘bed’ and ‘bridge’, are expressed as verbal derivatives in Algonquian languages. Inflectional affixes are added to verb and noun stems to express various grammatical properties of the word and/or the clause. The status of a nominal as a subject, object, or possessor is indicated not by word order, nor by case morphology on the nominal itself, but rather by morphology on the predicate that selects the nominal. This is illustrated by the forms in (5) from Oji-Cree, an Ojibwe variety (Samson Beardy, p.c.). In the clause in (5a), the verb inflects to agree with its third-person subject Tepit ‘David’ (prefix o- ‘3’) and its obviative object Meniin ‘Mary.obv’ (suffix -an ‘obviative’; see Section 3.2). Similarly, in the nominal phrase in (5b), the noun tayihsh ‘dog’ inflects to agree with its third-person possessor Tepit ‘David’ (prefix o- ‘3’). (5)                

Oji-Cree (Ojibwe) a. Tepit owaapamaan Meniin.   Tepit o- waap -am   David.3sg 3- see -trans   ‘David sees Mary.’ b. Tepit otayihshan   Tepit o- tayihsh -an   David.3sg 3- dog -obv   ‘David’s dog’

-aa -dir

-an -obv

Menii Mary

-an -obv

Taken together, the powerful systems of derivation and inflection allow a single Algonquian word to express an entire richly-descriptive clause, as illustrated by the examples in (6) from Ojibwe, Plains Cree, and Oji-Cree. In (6a), the verb inflection not only identifies the subject and object but also expresses negation, tense, and mood. In (6b), the verb carries several layers of derivational morphology to indicate a habitually feigned reflexive action. In (6c), the verb stem includes two distinct stem-like morphemes: kisiipiik- ‘wash’ and pahpaapiwin ‘window’.

Algonquian 

(6)                            

a.         b.         c.        

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Ojibwe (Nichols 1980: 198–199, 328) wayaapamissiiwampanen ic.waap -am -i -ssiw -w -an -pan -en ic.see -trans -1obj -neg -irr -2sg -pret -dub ‘whether you (sg.) did not see me’ Plains Cree (Dahlstrom 1986: 202) sâkihisosihkâsoskiw sâk -ih -iso -isi -hkâso -iski -w -Ø love -trans -refl -dim -pretend -habitual -3 -an.sg ‘s/he is in the habit of pretending to love him/herself a little bit’ Oji-Cree (Slavin 2015: 384) kiih-kisiipiikipahpaapiwine kiih꞊ kisiipiik -pahpaapiwin -e -w -Ø perf꞊ wash -window -intrans -3 -an.sg ‘s/he has washed the windows’

Most affixes in Algonquian languages are suffixes, as illustrated for inflection by the Ojibwe word in (6a) above, in which the stem waapam- ‘see.trans’ is followed by six inflectional suffixes, and for derivation by the Cree stem sâkihisosihkâsoski- in (6b), which consists of a root sâk- ‘love’ plus five derivational suffixes. Derivational and inflectional prefixes are few in number, although there is a set of auxiliary-like elements known as preverbs that appear to the immediate left of the verb stem, such as Oji-Cree kiih ‘perfective’ in (6c). Some Algonquian affixes express just a single feature (Meskwaki /ne-/ ‘1st person’) or a set of nominal features (Meskwaki /-aki/ ‘animate proximate plural’); there are also affixes that express features of two nominals simultaneously (Meskwaki /-akoːw/ ‘1st person singular subject, 2nd person plural object’) as well as affixes that express person and mode together (Meskwaki /-a/ ‘1st person singular prohibitive’) (Goddard 2004).

40.2.3 Syntax Since the inflection on the verb identifies the verb’s subject and object, the syntactic positions of subject and object nominals are flexible. Most Algonquian languages allow subject (S), verb (V), and object (O) to appear in almost any order, as illustrated for Mi’kmaq in (7).

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Mi’kmaq (Hamilton 2015: 22). a. ji’nm nemitoq ptauti (SVO)   ji’nm nemit -o -q   man see.it -in.obj -3sg   ‘the man sees the table’     b. ji’nm ptauti nemitoq (SOV)    

ptauti table

c.   d.   e.   f.

nemitoq ji’nm ptauti (VSO)   nemitoq ptauti ji’nm (VOS)   ptauti nemitoq ji’nm (OVS)   ptauti ji’nm nemitoq (OSV)

The variation in word order is not random. In many Algonquian languages, a nominal appears to the left of the verb if it is highlighted with special emphasis and to the right of the verb otherwise (Tomlin & Rhodes 1992; Dahlstrom 1995a; Junker 2004; Johnson et al. 2015; Sullivan 2016). Dahlstrom (1995a) has shown that in Meskwaki, the discourse functions of Topic and Focus have dedicated positions in the word order template, as indicated in (8a) and illustrated by the Meskwaki example in (8b) (Dahlstrom 1995a: 7). (8)          

Meskwaki word order template (simplified from Dahlstrom 1995a) a. Topic – Negative – Focus – Oblique – Verb – Other phrases b. ni·nake·hi a·kwi ke·ko·hi ašenokini.   ni·na ꞊ke·hi a·kwi ke·ko·hi ašeno -k -ini   me ꞊and not anything disappear -3.in -neg   ‘As for me, nothing is missing.’ (Topic: ni·na ‘me’; Focus: ke·ko·hi ‘anything’)

It is likely that a similar template applies in most Algonquian languages. The effect of discourse functions on word order can be observed particularly clearly in the Swampy Cree questions in (9). The English translations of the two questions have the same word order, with emphatic stress indicating whether the focus of the question is soon in (9a) or coming in (9b). In Cree, the same effect is conveyed not using stress, but rather by placing the focus of the question in sentence-initial position: wîpac ‘soon’ in (9a) and ta-takošin ‘coming’ in (9b). (9)                

Swampy Cree (Reinholtz 2002:379) a. Wîpac nâ ta-takošin Paula?   wîpac nâ ta꞊ takošin   soon q  fut꞊ arrive   ‘Is Paula coming soon?’ b. Ta-takošin nâ wîpac Paula?   ta꞊ takošin -w -Ø   fut꞊ arrive -3 -an.sg   ‘Is Paula coming soon?’

-w -3

-Ø -an.sg

Paula Paula.an.sg

nâ q 

wîpac soon

Paula Paula.an.sg

The flexibility of word order extends to nouns and their associated modifiers, which often appear adjacent to each other, as in the Swampy Cree example in (10a), but can also be separated by the verb, as in (10b), where nîso ‘two’ precedes the verb and awâ-

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sisak ‘children’ follows the verb. Such “discontinuous constituents” are common across Algonquian (Dahlstrom 1987; LeSourd 2004; Johnson & Rosen 2015). (10)                

a.       b.      

Swampy Cree (Reinholtz 1999: 201) Nîso awâsisak kî-sipwêhtêwak. nîso awâsis -ak kî꞊ sipwêhtê -w two child -an.pl perf꞊ leave -3 ‘The two children left.’ Nîso kî-sipwêhtêwak awâsisak. nîso kî꞊ sipwêhtê -w -ak awâsis two perf꞊ leave -3 -an.pl child ‘The two children left.’

-ak -an.pl

-ak -an.pl

The preceding discussion of syntax has focused on the positions of nominals, but it is frequently the case that the arguments of an Algonquian verb are not expressed by nominals at all. An overt nominal will be used for emphasis, or to introduce a new referent, but otherwise the use of overt nominal arguments is mostly superfluous, since an inflected verb on its own makes definite pronominal reference to all of its arguments. This can be observed in the Ojibwe, Plains Cree, and Oji-Cree examples in (6) above, which are all complete clauses with definite arguments whose features are expressed solely by the inflectional affixes on the verb. Based on such examples, we might conclude that the verbal affixes themselves are pronouns, but LeSourd (2006) and Dahlstrom (n.d.: 8.32) argue against this view.

40.3 Notable Algonquian linguistic features This section describes three notable features of Algonquian languages in greater detail: grammatical animacy, obviation, and direct-inverse marking.

40.3.1 Grammatical animacy Algonquian nouns are divided into two grammatical classes or genders, standardly labelled as animate and inanimate (e.  g. Bloomfield 1946: 94). The two genders of nouns take different number inflection and are indexed by different verbal markers, as illustrated for Munsee Delaware in (11) and (12). (11)    

Munsee Delaware animate and inanimate number inflection on nouns (O’Meara 1990:5) a. Animate: lənəw ‘man’, lənəwak ‘men’ (animate plural suffix -ak) b. Inanimate: ahpapoon ‘chair’, ahpapoonal ‘chairs’ (inanimate plural suffix -al)

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Munsee Delaware animate and inanimate inflection on verbs (Goddard 1969: 175–176) a. nloosookook b. nloosookwənal   n- loosw -əkw -w -ak   n- loosw -əkw -ən -al   1- burn -inv -1sg -an.pl   1- burn -inv -1sg -in.pl   ‘they.anim burn me’   ‘they.inan burn me’

In addition to these inflectional markers, which are added to noun and verb stems, animacy is also encoded in the verb stem itself. As illustrated for Munsee Delaware in (13), verb stems fall into four distinct classes: two classes of intransitive stems, selecting animate and inanimate subjects, and two classes of transitive stems, selecting animate and inanimate objects. (13)        

Munsee Delaware animate and inanimate verb stem classes (O’Meara 1990:7) a. Animate Intransitive (AI) stem selects animate subject: maxkəsii- ‘to be red (anim)’ b. Inanimate Intransitive (II) stem selects inanimate subject: maxkee- ‘to be red (inan)’ c. Transitive Animate (TA) stem selects animate object: neew- ‘to see X.anim’ d. Transitive Inanimate (TI) stem selects inanimate object: neem- ‘to see X.inan’

Verb paradigms in descriptive grammars are usually organized according to the four animacy classes in (13), and the dictionary entry for a verb normally identifies its animacy class, as in the following sample entry from the Munsee Delaware dictionary, where “vai” stands for “Animate Intransitive verb”: waawiikaníineew vai ‘have a backache, have a sore back’ (O’Meara 1995: 395). The assignment of nouns to the animate and inanimate classes will be illustrated using examples from Munsee Delaware (Goddard 1969: 31–32; O’Meara 1990). Nouns that denote humans, animals, and spirits are always animate (Munsee oxkweew ‘woman’, axkook ‘snake’, matantoow ‘Devil’) and abstract nouns are always inanimate (maskanəsəwaakan ‘strength’). Nouns that denote plants, body parts, and non-living things may be either animate (ohpən ‘potato’, nihkaš ‘my fingernail’, neenaxkw ‘ball’, koon ‘snow’) or inanimate (mahkahkw ‘pumpkin’, nihkaat ‘my leg’, paxkšiikan ‘knife’, nəpəy ‘water’). It is sometimes suggested that all entities denoted by animate nouns are seen as living or powerful in the worldview of Algonquian speakers, but linguists have argued that this cannot be entirely correct (Dahlstrom 1995b; Goddard 2002; Quinn 2019). A commonly-cited illustration of the arbitrariness of gender assignment is the fact that in many of the languages, the word for ‘raspberry’ is animate while the word for ‘strawberry’ is inanimate (Munsee lehlookihlaaš ‘raspberry’, wteehiim ‘strawberry’).

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40.3.2 Obviation When a given span of discourse—minimally, a clause—contains more than one third-person referent, the most topical third-person referent is designated as proximate and all others are designated as obviative (Bloomfield 1946: 94; Wolfart 1978; Rhodes 1990). The proximate-obviative contrast is expressed in the inflection of both nominals and verbs. The obviative is the marked member of the contrast: obviative nominals show special obviative inflection while proximate nominals show default third-person inflection. The basic patterning of obviation is illustrated by the Oji-Cree sentences in (14) (Samson Beardy, p.c.). In (14a) there is only one third-person referent, ‘child’, so the proximate-obviative contrast is not relevant. In (14b) there are two third-person referents, ‘s/he’ and ‘child’, so one must be obviative (in this case, ‘child’). Obviative morphology appears on the obviative nominal and on the verb that agrees with it (-an ‘obv’). (14)                

a.       b.      

Oji-Cree (Ojibwe) niwaapamaa awaasihs ni- waapam -aa -Ø awaasihs -Ø 1see -dir -an.sg child -an.sg ‘I see the child.’ owaapamaan awaasihsan o- waapam -aa -an awaasihs -an 3- see -dir -obv child -obv ‘S/he (prox) sees the child.obv.’

Obviation is obligatory when two third persons occur as arguments of the same verb, in which case at least one of the third persons must be obviative, and when a noun is possessed by a third person, in which case the noun must be obviative. Obviation is optional when two third persons are separated by a clause or sentence boundary: there is variation in whether or not a third person in a main clause triggers obviation of a less topical third person in a subordinate clause (Rhodes 1990). Obviation plays an important role in establishing the reference of nominals (Grafstein 1984; Brittain 2001). In the Oji-Cree examples in (15), for example, the proximate possessor in (15a) is interpreted as referring to the same individual as the proximate subject (i.  e., David), while the obviative possessor in (15b) is interpreted as referring to someone other than the proximate subject (i.  e., not David). (15)        

 Oji-Cree (Ojibwe) a. Tepit owaapamaan otayihshan.   Tepit -Ø o- waapam -aa -an o- tayihsh   David -px.sg 3- see -dir -obv 3- dog   ‘David.prox sees his.prox dog.obv.’ (= David’s own dog)

-an -obv

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b.      

Tepit owaapamaan otayihshiniin. Tepit -Ø o- waapam -aa -an o- tayihsh -iniw David -px.sg 3- see -dir -obv 3- dog -obv.poss ‘David.prox sees his/her.obv dog.obv.’ (= someone else’s dog)

-an -obv

Obviation also plays an important role in discourse (Goddard 1984, 1990b; Russell 1996; Hasler 2002; Thomason 2003). For example, if a character has been encoded as obviative for most of a story, but then shifts to being encoded as proximate, this shift signals that the narrator has entered a new section of the story in which the character plays a more important role, or that the narrator is now taking that character’s perspective. In this way, shifts in the designation of proximate and obviative referents act as signals of discourse structure, imparting a rich narrative texture that cannot be conveyed in an English translation (Goddard 1990b: 339).

40.3.3 Direct-inverse marking Some Algonquian transitive verb forms show a pattern of direct-inverse marking. In this pattern, the person and number markers on the verb indicate who is involved in the event, but they do not establish who is the subject and who is the object. For example, in the Ojibwe forms in (16), which both involve a 1pl participant and a 3pl participant, the same affixes appear (ni-…-inaan ‘1pl’ and -ik ‘3pl’) regardless of whether 1pl acts on 3pl, as in (16a), or 3pl acts on 1pl, as in (16b). Similarly, in the forms in (17), which both involve a proximate 3pl participant and an obviative participant, the same markers appear (o-…-waa ‘3pl’ and -an ‘obv’) regardless of whether 3pl acts on obv or obv acts on 3pl. (16)        

(17)        

Ojibwe (Nichols 1980) a. niwaapamaanaanik   ni- waapam -aa -inaan   1see -dir -1pl   ‘we see them’ (1→3, direct) b. niwaapamikonaanik   ni- waapam -ikw -inaan   1see -inv -1pl   ‘they see us’ (3→1, inverse) Ojibwe (Nichols 1980) a. owaapamaawaan   o- waapam -aa -waa   3- see -dir -3pl   ‘they see obv’ (3→obv, direct)

-ik -3pl

-ik -3pl

-an -obv

Algonquian 

b.      

 945

owaapamikowaan o- waapam -ikw -waa -an 3- see -inv -3pl -obv ‘obv sees them’ (obv→3, inverse)

If the affixes simply identify who is involved in the event, how do we know who acts on whom? This job falls to a separate marker known as the theme sign (Bloomfield 1946: 102), which occurs immediately after the verb stem. The theme sign is the only difference between the (a) and (b) examples in (16) and (17): when the roles of the participants are reversed in the (b) examples, the theme sign switches from the “direct” marker -aa to the “inverse” marker -ikw. The choice between the direct and inverse markers is determined by the person/animacy hierarchy in (18) (Hockett 1966). (18)    

—direct→ 1st/2nd > animate proximate 3rd > animate obviative 3rd > inanimate 3rd ←inverse—

The direct theme sign is used when the subject outranks the object on the hierarchy, such as when a first person acts on a third person, as in (16a), or when a proximate third person acts on an obviative third person, as in (17a). The inverse theme sign is used when the object outranks the subject on the hierarchy, such as when a third person acts on a first person, as in (16b), or when an obviative acts on a proximate, as in (17b). In summary, the direct-inverse system works as follows. The person and number affixes identify the participants but do not indicate which participant is the subject. For any pair of participants such as 1pl and 3pl, or 3pl and obv, the direct theme sign indicates that the higher-ranked participant acts on the lower-ranked participant (e.  g., 1pl→3pl, 3pl→obv), and the inverse theme sign indicates the reverse (e.  g. 3pl→1pl, obv→3pl). This system of grammatical organization has attracted much attention from linguists and there are many different views on how exactly to understand the nature of the direct-inverse pattern. Is the inverse a kind of passive construction (Wolfart 1991)? Does inversion affect the syntax in addition to the morphology (Rhodes 1994, Bruening 2001)? And what is the source of the person hierarchy that governs the choice between the direct and inverse theme signs (Zúñiga 2006; Macaulay 2009)?

40.4. Conclusion The Algonquian languages form one of the largest families of Indigenous languages in North America, and there is great diversity in the history, geography, and current status of the languages. From a linguistic perspective, however, the languages are closely related and show many similarities, particularly in the patterning of derivational and inflectional morphology, although these similarities are sometimes obscured by differences in pronunciation. Algonquian languages have played a prominent role in the field

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of linguistics in North America, and there are extensive academic resources for Algonquian-specific phenomena such as animacy, obviation, and the direct-inverse system. It is hoped that the background provided in this chapter will assist readers in accessing and making productive use of the academic literature on Algonquian languages.

References Ahenakew, Freda. 1987. Cree language structures: A Cree approach. Winnipeg: Pemmican. Ash, Anna, Jessie Little Doe Fermino & Ken Hale. 2001. Diversity in local language maintenance and restoration: A reason for optimism. In Leanne Hinton & Ken Hale (eds.), The green book of language revitalization in practice, 19–35. San Diego: Academic Press. Baldwin, Daryl & David J. Costa. 2018. Myaamiaataweenki: Revitalization of a sleeping language. In Kenneth L. Rehg & Lyle Campbell (eds.), The Oxford handbook of endangered languages, 553–570. New York: Oxford University Press. Baraby, Anne-Marie. 2002. The process of spelling standardization of Innu-aimun (Montagnais). In Barbara Burnaby & Jon Reyhner (eds.), Indigenous languages across the community, 197–212. Flagstaff: Northern Arizona University. Berman, Howard. Two phonological innovations in Ritwan. International Journal of American Linguistics 48. 412–420. Bliss, Heather (ed.) 2015–2020. Blackfoot stories archive. Available at https://stories.blackfoot.atlas-ling.ca. Bloomfield, Leonard. 1946. Algonquian. In Harry Hoijer (ed.), Linguistic structures of Native America, 85–129. (Viking Fund Publications in Anthropology 6). New York: Viking Fund. Bloomfield, Leonard. 1962. The Menomini language. New Haven: Yale University Press. Bowers, Dustin. 2019. The Nishnaabemwin restructuring controversy: New empirical evidence. Phonology 36. 187‒224. Brittain, Julie. 2001. Obviation and coreference relations in Cree-Montagnais-Naskapi. Linguistica Atlantica 23. 69–91. Brittain, Julie, Carrie Dyck, Yvan Rose & Marguerite MacKenzie. 2007. The Chisasibi Child Language Acquisition Study (CCLAS): A progress report. In H. Christoph Wolfart (ed.), Papers of the 38th Algonquian Conference, 1–17. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Bruening, Benjamin. 2001. Syntax at the edge: Cross-clausal phenomena and the syntax of Passamaquoddy. Cambridge, MA: MIT dissertation. Burnaby, Barbara, Marguerite MacKenzie & Luci Bobbish Salt. 1998. Factors in Aboriginal mother tongue education: The Cree School Board case. In David H. Pentland (ed.), Papers of the 29th Algonquian Conference, 62–73. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Cassels, Morgan & Chloe Farr. 2019. Mobile applications for Indigenous language learning: Literature review and app survey. Working Papers of the Linguistics Circle at the University of Victoria 29. 1–24. Costa, David J. 2003. The Miami-Illinois language. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Cowan, William. 1983. The development of suprasegmental inflections in Montagnais. International Journal of American Linguistics 49. 64‒71. Cowell, Andrew & Alonzo Moss, Sr. 2008. The Arapaho language. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Dahlstrom, Amy. 1986. Plains Cree morphosyntax. Berkeley: University of California dissertation. Dahlstrom, Amy. 1987. Discontinuous constituents in Fox. In Paul D. Kroeber & Robert E. Moore (eds.), Native American languages and grammatical typology, 53–73. Bloomington: Indiana University. Dahlstrom, Amy. 1995a. Topic, Focus and other word order problems in Algonquian. The Belcourt Lecture. Winnipeg: Voices of Rupert’s Land.

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Dahlstrom, Amy. 1995b. Motivation vs. predictability in Algonquian gender. In David H. Pentland (ed.), Papers of the 26th Algonquian Conference, 52‒66. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Dahlstrom, Amy. n.d. Meskwaki syntax. Manuscript, University of Chicago.https://lucian.uchicago.edu/ blogs/adahlstrom/publications-2/selected-manuscripts/meskwaki-syntax-book/ (Accessed 6. 1. 2021) Day, Gordon M. 1972. The name ‘Algonquin’. International Journal of American Linguistics 38. 226‒228. Drapeau, Lynn. 2014. Grammaire de la langue innue. Québec: Presses de l’Université du Québec. Dyck, Carrie, Alethea Power & Kevin Terry. 2014. Syncope in East Cree: Phonological or phonetic? In J. Randolph Valentine & Monica Macaulay (eds.), Papers of the 42nd Algonquian Conference, 120–133. Albany: SUNY Press. Eliot, John. 1663. Mamusse wunneetupanatamwe up-biblum God. Cambridge, MA: Samuel Green. Francis, David A. & Robert M. Leavitt. 2008. Peskotomuhkati wolastoqewi latuwewakon: A Passamaquoddy– Maliseet dictionary. Orono, Maine: University of Maine Press. Frantz, Donald G. 1991. Blackfoot grammar. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Genee, Inge & Marie-Odile Junker. 2018. The Blackfoot Language Resources and Digital Dictionary project: Creating integrated web resources for language documentation and revitalization. Language Documentation and Conservation 12. 274‒314. Goddard, Ives. 1969. Delaware verbal morphology: A descriptive and comparative study. Cambridge, MA: Harvard dissertation. Goddard, Ives. 1974. An outline of the historical phonology of Arapaho and Atsina. International Journal of American Linguistics 40. 102–116. Goddard, Ives. 1975. Algonquian, Wiyot, and Yurok: Proving a distant genetic relationship. In M. Dale Kinkade, Kenneth L. Hale & Oswald Werner (eds.), Linguistics and anthropology: In honor of C. F. Voegelin, 249–262. Lisse: Peter de Ridder. Goddard, Ives. 1978. Eastern Algonquian languages. In Bruce Trigger (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians, volume 15: Northeast, 70–77. Washington, DC: Smithsonian. Goddard, Ives. 1979. Delaware verbal morphology: A descriptive and comparative study. New York: Garland. (Revised edition of 1969 dissertation.) Goddard, Ives. 1984. The obviative in Fox narrative discourse. In William Cowan (ed.), Papers of the 15th Algonquian Conference, 273‒286. Ottawa: Carleton University. Goddard, Ives. 1990a. Primary and secondary stem derivation in Algonquian. International Journal of American Linguistics 56. 449–483. Goddard, Ives. 1990b. Aspects of the topic structure of Fox narratives: Proximate shifts and the use of overt and inflectional NPs. International Journal of American Linguistics 56. 317‒340. Goddard, Ives. 1994. The west-to-east cline in Algonquian dialectology. In William Cowan (ed.), Actes du 25e Congrès des Algonquinistes, 187‒211. Ottawa: Carleton University. Goddard, Ives. 1996. The classification of the Native languages of North America. In Ives Goddard (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians, volume 17: Languages, 290‒323. Washington, DC: Smithsonian. Goddard, Ives. 2000. The historical origins of Cheyenne inflections. In John D. Nichols (ed.), Papers of the 31st Algonquian Conference, 77‒129. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Goddard, Ives. 2002. Grammatical gender in Algonquian. In H. Christoph Wolfart (ed.), Papers of the 33rd Algonquian Conference, 195‒231. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Goddard, Ives. 2004. Meskwaki verbal affixes. In H. Christoph Wolfart (ed.), Papers of the 35th Algonquian Conference, 97‒123. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Goddard, Ives. 2018. Blackfoot and core Algonquian inflectional morphology: Archaisms and innovations. In Monica Macaulay & Margaret Noodin (eds.), Papers of the 47th Algonquian Conference, 83–106. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press. Goddard, Ives. 2021. A grammar of Southern Unami Delaware (Lenape). Petoskey, MI: Mundart Press. Goddard, Ives & Kathleen J. Bragdon. 1988. Native writings in Massachusett. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society.

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Grafstein, Ann. 1984. Argument structure and the syntax of a non-configurational language. Montreal: McGill dissertation. Haas, Mary R. 1958. Algonkian-Ritwan: The end of a controversy. International Journal of American Linguistics 24. 159‒173. Hamilton, Michael David. 2015. The syntax of Mi’gmaq: A configurational account. Montreal: McGill dissertation. Hasler, Laurel Anne. 2002. Sustained and shifting obviation in a Sheshatshiu Innu-aimûn story. In H. Christoph Wolfart (ed.), Papers of the 33rd Algonquian Conference, 232–250. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Hayes, Bruce. 1995. Metrical stress theory: Principles and case studies. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hockett, Charles F. 1966. What Algonquian is really like. International Journal of American Linguistics 32. 59‒73. Johnson, Meredith & Bryan Rosen. 2015. The syntax of discontinuous noun phrases in Algonquian languages: Left branch extractions and focus movements. In Monica Macaulay & J. Randolph Valentine (eds.), Papers of the 43rd Algonquian Conference, 135‒153. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Johnson, Meredith, Monica Macaulay, Bryan Rosen & Rachel Wang. 2015. A survey of Menominee word order. In Monica Macaulay & J. Randolph Valentine (eds.), Papers of the 43rd Algonquian Conference, 154‒178. Albany: SUNY Press. Junker, Marie-Odile. 2004. Focus, obviation and word order in East Cree. Lingua 114. 345‒365. Junker, Marie-Odile & Terry Stewart. 2008. Building search engines for Algonquian languages. In Karl S. Hele & Regna Darnell (eds.), Papers of the 39th Algonquian Conference, 378‒411. London, ON: University of Western Ontario. Kaye, Jonathan. 1978. Rule mitosis: The historical development of Algonquian palatalization. In Eung-Do Cook & Jonathan Kaye (eds.), Linguistic studies of Native Canada, 143‒156. Vancouver: UBC Press. Leavitt, Robert & Ben Levine (developers). n.d. Passamaquoddy-Maliseet language portal. http://pmportal. org. Leman, Wayne. 1981. Cheyenne pitch rules. International Journal of American Linguistics 47. 283‒309. Leonard, Wesley Y. 2008. When is an “extinct language” not extinct? Miami, a formerly sleeping language. In Kendall A. King, Natalie Schilling-Estes, Lyn Fogle, Jia Jackie Lou & Barbara Soukup (eds.), Sustaining linguistic diversity: Endangered and minority languages and language varieties, 23–33. Washington: Georgetown University Press. LeSourd, Philip S. 2006. Problems for the pronominal argument hypothesis in Maliseet-Passamaquoddy. Language 82. 486‒514. Macaulay, Monica. 2009. On prominence hierarchies: Evidence from Algonquian. Linguistic Typology 13. 357–389 MacKenzie, Marguerite. 1980. Towards a dialectology of Cree-Montagnais-Naskapi. Toronto: University of Toronto dissertation. MacKenzie, Marguerite & Kristen O’Keefe (eds.). 2009. Innu-aimun legal terms: Family law. St. John’s, NL: Department of Justice, Government of Newfoundland and Labrador. McIvor, Onowa. 2012. îkakwiy nîhiyawiyân: I am learning [to be] Cree. Vancouver: University of British Columbia dissertation. Milligan, Marianne. 2000. A new look at Menominee vowel harmony. In John D. Nichols (ed.), Papers of the 31st Algonquian Conference, 237‒254. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Milligan, Marianne. 2005. Menominee prosodic structure. Madison: University of Wisconsin dissertation. Morris, Lori & Marguerite MacKenzie. 2016. Assessing the lexical knowledge of Innu-speaking children. In Monica Macaulay, Margaret Noodin & J. Randolph Valentine (eds.), Papers of the 44th Algonquian Conference, 227–241. Albany: SUNY Press. Nichols, John D. 1980. Ojibwe morphology. Cambridge, MA: Harvard dissertation. Nichols, John D. (ed.). 2015. The Ojibwe people’s dictionary. http://ojibwe.lib.umn.edu.

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Nicolas, Louis. 1672‒1674. Grammaire algonquine ou des sauvages de l’Amérique septentrionale. Manuscript. Ningewance, Patricia. 2004. Talking gookom’s language: Learning Ojibwe. Lac Seul, ON: Mazinaate Press. O’Meara, John. 1990. Delaware stem morphology. Montreal: McGill dissertation. O’Meara, John. 1995. Delaware – English / English – Delaware dictionary. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Okimāsis, Jean L. 2018. Cree: Language of the plains / nēhiyawēwin: paskwāwi-pīkiskwēwin. 3rd edition. Regina: University of Regina Press. Oxford, Will. 2016. Proto-Algonquian phonotactics. Unpublished manuscript. University of Manitoba. Piggott, Glyne L. 1978. Some implications of Algonquian palatalization. In Eung-Do Cook & Jonathan Kaye (eds.), Linguistic studies of Native Canada, 203–225. Vancouver: UBC Press. Quinn, Conor. 2019. Productivity vs. predictability: Evidence for the syntax and semantics of animate gender in four Northeastern-area Algonquian languages. In Éric Mathieu, Myriam Dali & Gita Zareikar (eds.), Gender and noun classification, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Reinholtz, Charlotte. 1999. On the characterization of discontinuous constituents: Evidence from Swampy Cree. International Journal of American Linguistics 65. 201‒217. Reinholtz, Charlotte. 2002. On the characterization of the Cree question particle. In H. Christoph Wolfart (ed.), Papers of the 33rd Algonquian Conference, 378‒391. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Rhodes, Richard A. 1990. Obviation, inversion, and topic rank in Ojibwa. Berkeley Linguistics Society 16 (supplement). 101‒115. Rhodes, Richard A. 1994. Agency, inversion, and thematic alignment in Ojibwe. Berkeley Linguistics Society 20. 431‒446. Rhodes, Richard A. 2020. Language shift in the subarctic and central plains. In Tom Güldemann, Patrick McConvell & Richard A. Rhodes (eds.), The language of hunter-gatherers, 552–576. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rhodes, Richard A. & Evelyn M. Todd. 1981. Subarctic Algonquian languages. In June Helm (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians, volume 6: Subarctic, 52‒66. Washington: Smithsonian. Rice, Keren. 2010. Accent in the native languages of North America. In Harry van der Hulst, Rob Goedemans & Ellen van Zanten (eds.), A survey of word accentual patterns in the languages of the world, 155‒248. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Russell, Kevin. 1996. Does obviation mark point of view? In John D. Nichols & Arden C. Ogg (eds.), nikotwâsik iskwâhtêm, pâskihtêpayih! Studies in honour of H. Christoph Wolfart, 367‒382. Winnipeg: Algonquian and Iroquoian Linguistics. Sapir, Edward. 1921. Language: An introduction to the study of speech. New York: Harcourt Brace. Sarkar, Mela & Mali A’n Metallic. 2009. Indigenizing the structural syllabus: The challenge of revitalizing Mi’gmaq in Listuguj. Canadian Modern Language Review 66. 49–71. Slavin, Tanya. 2015. Possessive noun incorporation in Oji-Cree. International Journal of American Linguistics 81. 379‒408. Sullivan, Michael. 2016. Making statements in Ojibwe: A survey of word order in spontaneous sentences. In Monica Macaulay, Margaret Noodin & J. Randolph Valentine (eds.), Papers of the 44th Algonquian Conference, 329‒347. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Thomason, Lucy. 2003. The proximate and obviative contrast in Meskwaki. Austin: University of Texas dissertation. Tomlin, Russell S. & Richard A. Rhodes. 1992. Information distribution in Ojibwa. In Doris L. Payne (ed.), Pragmatics of word order flexibility, 117‒135. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Treuer, Anton & Keller Paap (eds.). 2009. Ojibwe vocabulary project. St. Paul: Minnesota Humanities Center. Valentine, J. Randolph. 2001. Nishnaabemwin reference grammar. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Wier, Thomas R. 2004. Comparative markedness and opacity in Meskwaki palatalization. Berkeley Linguistics Society 30(1). 426‒434.

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Wolfart, H. Christoph. 1973. Plains Cree: A grammatical study. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, n.s., vol. 63, part 5, Philadelphia. Wolfart, H. Christoph. 1978. How many obviatives: Sense and reference in a Cree verb paradigm. In Eung-Do Cook & Jonathan D. Kaye (eds.), Linguistic structures of Native Canada, 255‒272. Vancouver: UBC Press. Wolfart, H. Christoph. 1991. Passives with and without Agents. In H. C. Wolfart (ed.), Linguistic studies presented to John L. Finlay, 171‒190. Winnipeg: Algonquian and Iroquoian Linguistics. Wolfart, H. Christoph. 1996. Sketch of Cree, an Algonquian language. In Ives Goddard (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians, volume 17: Languages, 390‒439. Washington: Smithsonian. Zúñiga, Fernando. 2006. Deixis and alignment: Inverse systems in Indigenous languages of the Americas. Amsterdam: Benjamins.

Nicole Rosen

41 Michif Abstract: This chapter discusses Michif, a language developed at the turn of the 19th century by the Metis people in what is now called Canada. Michif is spoken today by likely fewer than a couple hundred people in Western Canada and North Dakota. The chapter discusses the genesis, status and terminology of the different languages that go by the name Michif, where they are spoken, and then focus primarily on some features of the structure of mixed-language Michif (also known sometimes as Michif-Cree, Southern Michif, or Heritage Michif). First, the spelling system and sound system of the language will be discussed, and then a number of grammatical features of particular interest to learners and teachers of Michif. These will be organized into noun phrase-based and verb phrase-based features, although some of these features, such as animacy, apply to both nouns and verbs. The chapter will also discuss some initiatives for Michif language revitalization.

41.1 Introduction The Michif language developed out of contact between French voyageurs and Indigenous peoples in the Red River valley of Manitoba, Canada, where a new language was created when the new Metis Nation was born. This new language, Michif, was created by the first half of the nineteenth century and can be generally described as mixing French nouns with Plains Cree verbs. Although this characterization is a simplification, it does a reasonable job as an elementary description of Michif. The first section of this chapter discusses some important concepts which arise when defining and describing Michif, before moving on to focus on some features of the structure of mixed-language Michif (also called Michif-Cree, Southern Michif, or Heritage Michif) in the later sections. First the sounds in the language are discussed, and then a number of grammatical features of particular interest to learners and teachers of Michif. These are organized into noun phrase-based and verb phrase-based features, although this distinction is not always easily delimited, as features such as animacy apply to both nouns and verbs. Given that Michif is a language that was created out of intense contact between French and Cree, when it is relevant, the Cree or French source of Michif vocabulary or grammatical features may be discussed as well, primarily to illuminate Michif grammatical patterns, but a detailed discussion of the genesis of Michif is not undertaken here.

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41.1.1 Michif as a mixed language Michif is most often described as a ‘mixed language’, and so what this category of language means, and why Michif is considered one, must be discussed before moving on to the description of features found in the language. ‘Mixed languages’ are a subcategory of contact languages which also includes creole languages, pidgins, and trade languages, which have arisen in particular socio-historical circumstances when two peoples, and therefore languages, come into contact for the first time. Many of these languages arose due to colonialism in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, where colonial countries came into contact with Indigenous peoples in the regions they were looking to colonize, or when they engaged in slavery, thus also ensuring language contact between slave-owners and the slaves themselves. Pidgins and creole languages are said to develop in socio-historical circumstances where one language (the colonizer’s) has a higher social standing than the multiple other languages it is subjugating (the slaves’, or often, the local indigenous people’s). On the other hand, mixed languages are said to form under a more equal social standing of two groups. Further, mixed languages tend to arise out of the formation of new ethnicities, often due to mixed marriages. Also different from creoles and pidgins, they are said to mark identity rather than fill a communicative need (Meakins 2013: 186). Michif falls into this category, as the Métis people are a new nation resulting from mixed marriages between (primarily) Cree women and French men. The language was not created to fill a communicative need due to lack of common code. The Métis people were multilingual, speaking languages such as French, Cree, English, Dene, Ojibwe, based on geography and what neighbouring people spoke around them, and Michif was used as a home language with other Métis people; it was not a language used for communicating with outsiders.

41.1.2 Michif genesis and territory The Michif language was created by the Métis people, the descendants of (primarily) French fur traders and Cree women who married in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, in what is today the Canadian West. The children of these unions emerged as a new identity by the early nineteenth century in the Red River Settlements in Manitoba, with a new set of traditions inherited from both parents. The Métis were born multicultural and grew up multilingual, speaking both indigenous languages such as Cree, Dene and Ojibwe and European languages such as English and French. This put them in a position of privilege in the changing Red River region in the mid 1850s. Many had access to a European education, but also knew the local traditional ways, where they could move seamlessly between settler and First Nations communities (Sealey and Lussier 1975), and they had good relations with both. Multilingual, the Métis often served as interpreters and guides. Although Métis people spoke many languages in their interactions with others, they often spoke a different, in-group language at home, which

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has been called many things—French Cree, Chippewa Cree, not-the-real Cree—but today is usually called Michif.

41.1.3 Diverse meanings of the word Michif Given that the Métis have historically spoken many languages, and that the term Michif refers to the language of the Métis1, it may come as little surprise that the term Michif can designate a number of different Metis languages. The language represented by the name Michif normally depends on the community in which it was spoken. The Michif language from Saint Laurent, Manitoba, for example, represents a Métis-specific variety of French, historically descended from French but with its own unique influence from Algonquian languages Cree and Ojibwe. On the other hand, the ‘Michif’ as spoken in northern Saskatchewan is much more closely related to Cree, but again, the variety is Métis-specific. Various attempts have been made to clarify the language being spoken about, by applying different terms such as Northern Michif (as spoken in northern Saskatchewan) or Southern Michif (as spoken in central and southern Manitoba), or Michif French, but as of yet, none of these attempts at differentiation have been adopted by all speakers, and so it is always a good idea to determine which language is being referred to when discussing ‘Michif’. While in this chapter I am discussing just one of these languages, it is important to recognize that a) other languages also go by this name and b) the patterns described here may not apply to all languages which are called ‘Michif’. Also, it should go without saying that none of these languages is superior to another, and that they should all be given equal status as historical Metis languages. For the purposes of the discussion here, however, I give an overview of the Michif as spoken in places such as Camperville and The Corner, Manitoba. It is sometimes known as Southern Michif, Heritage Michif, Michif-Cree, or mixed-language Michif, and is the variety primarily discussed in Bakker (1997) and Gillon and Rosen (2018). For discussion of its genesis and background on the language and related Métis languages, Bakker (1997) is a good resource, and for examples of a language resource written in three different Métis languages, see Burnouf, Fleury & Lavallée (2007).

41.1.4 Michif language revitalization There are a number of Michif language revitalization projects being undertaken in Canada, led by both grass-roots and institutional organizations across the Canadian

1 Michif is also the word that many Metis people use to refer to themselves, i.  e., the term not only refers to a language, but to people.

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provinces. Although there are challenges associated with all language revitalization efforts, there are two particular challenges which affect Michif language revitalization that are not usually present in other languages’ efforts, which are worth noting before discussing some of these projects. The first challenge relates to the vastness of the Metis territory today, which spans five provinces (Ontario, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta and British Columbia) and into the Northwest Territories and Yukon. The Metis Nation were dispersed from their Red River Valley homeland, in present-day Manitoba, after rebellions (or resistances, depending on your viewpoint) in 1870 and 1885 where they tried to fight against the Canadian government bringing in Anglophone settlers from Ontario and installing their own government representatives. These acts of resistance were ultimately unsuccessful, and Metis people were chased out and forced to move further West to escape animosity and racism. This dispersal of Metis people from their traditional homeland means that today, the Metis are interspersed in communities across the West, spanning thousands of miles and multiple provinces. This creates two challenges with respect to revitalization: first, administratively, there are separate Metis organizations for each province, each with different policies and priorities. This means that there can be several organizations working in parallel on revitalization programs for their own province, rather than one body behind a single program. Second, the distance between Metis communities can make it difficult to find Michif speakers nearby to learn from, or even for Michif speakers themselves to speak to others. The second challenge stems from the traditional multilingualism of the Metis Nation. Multilanguage usage was maintained in Metis communities because each language was needed to serve different functions, i.  e., in order to communicate with many monolingual speakers belonging to three different linguistic groups of interest to the Metis for various reasons, such as kinship, intermarriage, trade, work, travel, etc. (Douaud 1980:408). Because of their traditional multilingualism, the Metis Nation does not have a single language to rally around for revitalization. Although traditional Metis did not assign prestige or even labels to one language or another (Bakker 1997:160, Douaud 1980:409), Canada’s colonial education has not only normalized monolingualism, but also taught at least implicitly that there is a ‘correct’ way to speak language. Decolonizing these engrained beliefs can prove to be a challenge. Rifts can occur between different Michif language groups, especially given a backdrop of limited funding and dearth of speakers of these languages. That said, there is growing interest in revitalizing the language, as evidenced by a number of projects across the Metis homeland. A few of these grassroots and institutional efforts are detailed here. The educational arms of provincial Metis organizations have been developing Michif learning materials and organizing Michif language classes, especially the Louis Riel Institute (LRI) in Manitoba and The Gabriel Dumont Institute (GDI) in Saskatchewan. The GDI has developed or linked a number of Michif online resources as part of its Metis Museum initiative (http://www.metismuseum.ca/), while the LRI has published a number of written materials geared towards learning, including children’s books, often

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accompanied by CDs and available through their website (http://www.louisrielinstitute. com/michif-language.php). Both organizations also organize sessions of Michif classes, but most of these classes do not have long-term sustainable funding. Currently, the Gabriel Dumont Local 11 and the City of Saskatchewan have partnered to offer Michif classes at the Round Prairie Public Library Branch. The ten-week session began in March 2019, and subsequent sessions have continued in September 2019 and January 2020, where it was interrupted due to the Covid-19 pandemic. The classes and teaching are developed by a team of a Michif speaker (Bruce Flamond), a linguist (Chantale Cenerini), and two teachers. These classes are free, and have been followed by the same two dozen people interested in learning the language. This Michif-teaching team is also developing future online resources with their ‘Language Banking’ project, where they record part of the sessions to share with the students. These resources are also being shared with Saskatoon Public Schools, which is also starting to teach Michif language as part of the Metis Cultural Program at Westmount School. In addition to programs and resources developed by provincial Metis organizations, there are grassroots initiatives that have been undertaken to promote and revitalize Michif. A good example of such an initiative is the Prairies to Woodlands Indigenous Language Revitalization Circle in Manitoba (Forsythe 2020). This group is run by three women; Verna Demontigny of Brandon, Gail Welburn of Dauphin, and project director Heather Souter of Camperville, and received funding from Heritage Canada’s Aboriginal Language Initiative to pilot a language learning program. In 2017, Michif language-teaching workshops were run for Michif speakers to teach immersion-based techniques to transmit the language, especially as part of a Master-Apprentice program. The program has also paired speakers and learners using one-on-one home- and community-based immersion techniques to teach Michif language and Métis culture. The program has funded three Michif Master-Apprentice teams, who work for upwards of 300 hours together using Michif in everyday life. At the post-secondary level, the first for-credit Michif languages classes were taught through the Native Studies department at the University of Manitoba in the 2019/2020. Two classes were offered, Introductory Michif I and Introductory Michif II, with a total enrollment of 72 students across the sections. The classes are mostly taught remotely, with some in-person sessions per semester. The classes have proved to be very popular, and are being taught again in 2020/2021. There is no full-time Michif instructor at the University of Manitoba at this time however, and so no full Michif program going past the Introductory level. That said, a Metis Inclusion Coordinator appointment at the university has created many more extracurricular Michif language opportunities at the University, including events such as a Michif kitchen party, and regular social events where Michif is encouraged and promoted.

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41.2 Sound patterning in Michif This section outlines the consonant and vowel inventory of Michif, rules of stress assignment, and gives an overview of some of the principal spelling system(s) used.

41.2.1 The sounds of Michif Assessing the number of sounds in Michif is not uncontroversial, with publications positing different numbers of phonemes (sounds), and a lack of consensus on a definitive sound inventory. Because Michif is claimed to have two grammars operating within it, it has been claimed to have two separate phonologies (sound systems) at work within it: both the French and the Plains Cree sound systems. This would mean there are two separate lists of sounds in Michif, depending on the etymology of the particular word. French words would have one list of sounds while Cree words would have another, with two separate sets of phonological rules and phonotactic constraints. For an analysis arguing two parallel phonological systems, the reader is referred to Bakker (1997) and Bakker and Papen (1997). A choice was made here rather to focus on an analysis of Michif as a unified system today which does not depend on historical source language. This view is supported by Rosen (2006, 2007), Pritchard and Schwayder (2014), and more recently Rosen, Stewart and Sammons (2020) which shows that there are no statistically significant differences between phonetically similar vowels in historically Cree versus French words in Michif. With this disclaimer, then, that there are other differing views of the Michif sound inventory, the sounds of a unified view of Michif are given in the following sections.

41.2.1.1. Michif vowels Vowels are typically analyzed as having a total of fourteen vowels in Michif, including eleven oral and four nasal vowels.2 The vowels are given first in orthography and second in the international phonetic alphabet (IPA) below. Tab. 1: Michif vowels – Orthography ii i ii’n ee e ae’n  

eu oe aa a aa’n

oo o oo’n    

2 Rosen, Stewart & Sammons (2020) posit a possible 15 vowels, with a three-way back distinction instead of the two oral oo and o vowels given here. This is not in line with writing systems developed for the language and requires further research for confirmation.

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Tab. 2: Michif vowels – IPA i ɪ ɪ᷉ e ɛ ɛ˜  

ø  œ  ɑ a a᷉

o ɔ ɔ᷇    

41.2.1.2 Michif consonants The number of Michif consonants is somewhat less controversial than the number of vowels, although those who claim there are two systems at work may organize them differently. There are 25 consonants (including semi-vowels), and there is a three-way contrast among the stop consonants between preaspirated, plain and voiced3. These can be seen in the tables below, first in the Manitoba Michif orthography and then in IPA. Tab. 3: Michif consonants – orthography hp p b fv     m   

ht t d sz     n   

  sh zh   lr   y 

    hch, ch, j      

hk k g          

  h        w 

kkɡ

  h        w 

Tab. 4: Michif consonants – IPA4 ppb fv     m   

h

ttd sz     n   

h

  ʃʒ   lɾ   j 

   

h

ʧ, ʧ, ʤ

h

     

         

3 Note that Rosen et al (2019)’s study of Michif VOT in stop consonants shows that there is no phonetic difference between the voiced and voiceless stops, which would mean that this three-way distinction could be neutralized, and there may not be voiced stops in Michif. No perception research has been conducted, however, and it is unclear whether speakers differentiate minimal pairs. Because speaker orthographies make a distinction between the two, and because perception research is lacking, Michif is presented here as maintaining this voicing contrast. 4 The phonological status of the preaspirated consonants in Michif is unclear. They are usually analyzed in opposition to the plain and voiced consonants, but more study is necessary.

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41.2.1.3 Michif orthography There are three primary published orthographies (as well as many individual orthographies) found in Michif documentation today, and this section is intended to serve as a guide to translate between them, and outline the system used in this chapter. The three orthographies are: Turtle Mountain orthography, the Flamand-Papen orthography, the 2015 Manitoba orthography. Note that there are numerous published works of Michif which do not use any of these three orthographies, but given the idiosyncratic and personal nature of the writing systems in most Michif publications, it is impossible to include all systems. The orthographies included have been chosen because they are most recent, most consistent, or most used. The first writing system is that used in the Turtle Mountain Michif Dictionary, written by Ida Rose Allard and Rose Laverdure, edited by John Crawford in Turtle Mountain, North Dakota in 1983. This orthography was written to conform as much as possible to English spelling, and though it has not been adopted by many more recent Canadian publications, the fact that it is the first published Michif dictionary and has been most distributed makes it necessary to include here. The Flamand-Papen system was developed primarily by Rita Flamand†, a Michif translator and writer, with input from linguist Robert Papen (Papen 2005). In this system, long vowels are represented with double vowels, and nasalization is represented by a single ñ, while a consonantal ‘n’ is represented by ‘n’. Flamand adapts what is often called the ‘double vowel system5’ that is used in Ojibwe to include the Michif sounds, and her work, including translations of a number of children’s books and language learning material (Flamand 2002) published by the Metis resource centre in Winnipeg, is published using this system. The Michif writing system used in this volume is called the ‘2015 Manitoba orthography’. This uses the Flamand-Papen system as its base, but with a change in how nasalized sounds are represented. Where there was a ñ to represent nasalized vowels, the newer 2015 orthography uses an apostrophe between the vowel and the n to show that the nasalization is on the vowel and that the consonant is unpronounced. This ’n representation was proposed, and adopted, in a Louis Riel Institute Michif language meeting held in January 2015 with the author and five Michif-speaking elders: Verna Demontigny, Norman Fleury, Victoria Genaille†, Harvey Pelletier and Grace Zoldy. This writing system is used in the 2015 version of the Piikishkweetak aa’n Michif! language manual (Rosen and Souter 2015). Note however, that no single orthography has been adopted officially, and Michif documents put out by different organizations tend to be follow their own conventions with regards to orthography. It should be noted that although the tables outline the orthography as completely as possible with respect to correspondences, in probably all Michif documents, there are instances where words are not spelled using the correspondences below. 5 This is a spelling system used in Ojibwe where double vowels denote long vowels.

Michif 

 959

Tab. 5: Vowel pronunciation guide 2015

F-P

TM

Michif example

IPA

English closest approximation

i  ii e  ee o  oo oe eu a  aa aa’n ae’n oo’n ii’n

i  ii e  ee o  oo oe eu a  aa añ eñ oñ iñ

i  ee   ay ou/u oo oe eu a  aw awn en oun een

yootin ‘it is windy’, itweew ‘say’ iitii ‘summer’, niiya ‘I’ en ‘the’, rwe ‘king’ eekwa ‘at this point’, itweew ‘say’ dorii ‘pickerel’, osham ‘too much’ poo ‘skin’, diloo ‘water’ soer ‘sister’ feu ‘fire’ api ‘sit’, miina ‘even’ naakoshiw ‘it is shining’ taaa’nt ‘aunt’, taa’n ‘time’ prae’ntaaa’n ‘spring’, ae’n ‘a’ moo’n ‘my’ ohii’n ‘there’, chiii’n ‘question marker’

[ɪ] [i] [ɛ] [e] [ɔ] [o] [œ] [ø] [a] [aa] [a᷉] [ɛ᷉ ] [ɔ᷇] [ɪ᷉ ]

‘I’ in sit ‘ee’ in see ‘e’ in set ‘ay’ in say ‘o’ in pot or ‘u’ in put ‘oa’ in boat n/a in English n/a in English Like ‘a’ in father, but shorter ‘a’ in father Like tante in Laurentian French Like brin in Laurentian French Like mon in Laurentian French n/a in French/English

Tab. 6: Consonant pronunciation guide 2015

F-P

TM

Michif example

IPA

English closest approximation

p  b  hp t  d  ht k  g  hk f  v  s  z  sh zh h  ch hch

p  b  hp t  d  ht k  g  hk f  v  s  z  sh zh h  ch hch

p  b  hp t  d  ht k  g  hk f  v  s  z  sh zh h  ch shch

peer ‘father’, mishpon ‘it is snowing’ barb ‘beard’ pahpi ‘laugh’ taanshi ‘hello’ dwee ‘finger’ nohtee ‘want’ kiiya ‘you’ shiikahoo ‘to comb’ galet ‘bannock’, magazae’n ‘store’ itohteyahk ‘ frimii ‘ant’, Michif vyaa’nd ‘meat’, avik ‘with’ soo’n ‘poss’, rasin ‘root’ zaef ‘egg’, freez ‘strawberry’ shikahoo ‘to comb’, kishiteew ‘it’s hot’ zhur ‘day’ hash ‘axe’, wiichihin ‘Help me!’ cheeshkwa ‘yet’ ohchi ‘from’

[p] [b] [hp] [t] [d] [ht] [k] [ɡ] [hk] [f] [v] [s] [z] [ʃ] [ʒ] [h] [ʧ] [ʃʧ]

j  m  n  l  r  w  y 

j  m  nn/n l  r  w  y 

j  m  n  l  r  w  y 

jis ‘ten’, jig ‘jig’ meetawee ‘play’, lom ‘man’ nipa ‘sleep’, ana ‘that’ lii ‘the’, balee ‘broom’ rob ‘dress’, sasoer ‘hunter’ wii ‘yes’, awa ‘this’ yootin ‘it is windy’, shyae’n ‘dog’

[ʤ] [m] [n] [l] [r] [w] [j]

‘p’ in spin. Like English ‘b’. n/a ‘t’ in stun Like an English ‘d’. n/a ‘k’ in skin Like an English ‘g’. n/a Like an English ‘f’. Like an English ‘v’. Like an English ‘s’. Like an English ‘z’. Like the ‘sh’ in she Like the ‘s’ in pleasure. Like an English ‘h’. ‘ch’ in cherry the two sounds ‘sh’ and ‘ch’ together, like in ‘hush child’ ‘j’ in jig Like an English ‘m’. Like an English ‘n’. Like an English ‘l’. n/a in English. Like an English ‘w’. ‘y’ in you

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41.2.1.4 Stress assignment Rosen (2006) analyzes Michif stress assignment in some detail, in comparison with the stress systems of its source languages Plains Cree and Canadian French. According to this analysis (as well as Bakker 1997), in Michif words of three syllables or less, primary stress falls on the final syllable, while in words of four syllables or more, primary stress falls on the antepenult (third-from-last syllable). Secondary stress is on alternating syllables throughout the word. The examples below show this pattern, where the examples in (1)–(2) are two-syllable words with final stress. The examples in (3)–(4) are three-syllable words and have final primary stress and antepenultimate secondary stress. In the examples with four (5)–(6) and five (7) syllables, we see that primary stress shifts to the antepenult, with secondary stress on alternating syllables in both directions from the primarily-stressed antepenultimate syllable. (1)    

Miichów. mitʃo-w eat-3

‘S/he is eating’    

(2)    

karót karɔt carrot

‘carrot’    

(3)    

Miìchowaák. mitʃo-w-ak eat-non3-pl

‘They are eating’    

(4)    

shòkwalaá ʃɔkwɔlɑ chocolate

‘chocolate’    

(5)    

Nimiíchonaàn. ni-mitʃo-n-ɑn 1-eat-non3-pl

‘We (excl) are eating’    

(6)    

koo’mbíneezoò’n kɔ̃binezɔ̃ longjohns

‘longjohns’    

(7)    

Kìmiiichónaawaàw. ki-mitʃo-n-ɑwɑw 2-eat-non3-2pl

‘You (pl) are eating’    

As we see from these lexically related examples, the stress shifts as the number of syllables changes. Michif stress appears to be fairly regular, and although the short /ɪ/ can sometimes be deleted in unstressed syllables, this is variable, and other vowels are maintained in unstressed position (Rosen 2006).

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41.3 Noun phrases in Michif It is usually said that nouns and their modifiers such as articles, adjectives, possessives, etc., come from French, thus implying that we can look at French grammar to know how to use them in Michif (Bakker 1997). Here, however, their distribution is discussed in terms of how they pattern in Michif specifically, with little discussion of French as a source language, as while there are some similarities between French and Michif noun phrases, it has been argued elsewhere that there are also important differences (for a more in-depth syntactic analysis of the Michif DP, see Gillon and Rosen 2018).

41.3.1 Gender and animacy Before describing the particular parts of Michif noun phrases, it is important to give an overview of gender and animacy, as Michif uses both of these throughout its grammar. Every noun in Michif has a designated grammatical gender and animacy, and this information is then used not only for agreement with determiners and adjectives, but also to determine which form of a given verb is used. We refer to these as grammatical gender and animacy because while a noun which is feminine in the real-world are often feminine in Michif grammar, the gender and animacy is not always retrievable from the semantics, or meaning, of the word. As we see in the examples below, ‘chair’ in Michif is grammatically feminine, but not semantically feminine, i.  e., a chair is not actually feminine in the real world. The animacy of a Michif noun, likewise, often aligns with real-world animacy (i.  e., most animals have animate gender and many objects have inanimate gender), but not in all cases. For every noun, one must learn whether its gender is masculine or feminine, and whether its animacy is inanimate or animate. This is not generally marked on the noun itself (with a few exceptions), but rather on other elements of the noun phrase such as a determiner, a possessor, or a demonstrative. In the following examples, for example, (8) sheezh ‘chair’ is inanimate and feminine, while (9) shapoo ‘hat’ is inanimate and masculine. In (10) we see an example of an animate masculine noun, kol ‘necktie’ and in (11) an animate feminine noun farin ‘flour’. (8)      

anima that dem.med.in.sg ‘that chair’

la the def.f.sg

sheezh. chair chair

(9)      

anima that dem.med.in.sg ‘that hat’

li the def.m.sg

shapoo hat hat

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(10)      

ana that dem.med.an.sg ‘that necktie’

li the def.m.sg

kol necktie necktie

(11)      

ana that dem.med.an.sg ‘that flour’

la the def.f.sg

farin flour flour

Gender, and especially animacy, play an important part in how Michif grammar is organized, and is discussed where relevant throughout this chapter. Now that the basics of gender and animacy have been described, determiners and demonstratives, the elements in the noun phrase which display animacy and gender, are discussed in more detail.

41.3.2 Determiners and demonstratives 41.3.2.1 Determiners Determiners are nearly always obligatory elements of the noun phrase in Michif. They normally appear closest to the noun, rarely being separated from the noun they modify, other than in a few exceptions where we find a small group of prenominal adjectives. Determiners can be articles or possessive articles in Michif (see Gillon & Rosen 2018 for details of the syntactic analysis). Both mark singular and plural, as well as masculine and feminine. There are five articles in Michif, given in Table 7. Tab. 7: Michif articles   masculine feminine

 

singular

plural

definite indefinite definite indefinite

li en la ae’n

lii

Notice that while singular articles distinguish between masculine and feminine, and definite and indefinite, there is only one plural article, no matter the gender or definiteness. While determiners are obligatory in Michif, they need not necessarily be articles; possessives articles can also appear instead of a definite or indefinite article, though they cannot co-occur with one. The possessive articles in Michif are given in Table 8.

Michif 

 963

Tab. 8: Michif possessive articles  

singular

plural

masculine

feminine

masculine

singular possessor 1st person 2nd person 3rd person

  moo’n too’n soo’n

  ma ta sa

  mii tii sii

plural possessor 1st person 2nd person 3rd person

  not vot loer

feminine

  no vo lœr

Algonquian languages often distinguish inalienable possession, meaning that certain nouns such as body parts or family members are obligatorily used with possessives rather than other determiners. This does seem to be the general tendency with Michif, where body parts and family members surface most often with possessives. However, non-possessives with these nouns are possible, just uncommon. More research is required to determine the rules governing inalienable possession in Michif.

41.3.2.2 Demonstratives There are three sets of demonstratives in Michif, marking relative distances from the speaker. The first set are the proximals, denote something like ‘this’, or something that is near or proximate to the speaker. The second set are the medials, more like ‘that’, denoting something a little farther away, and the third distal set could be thought of as ‘that one over there’, representing a further distance away. The Michif demonstratives are given in the table below. Tab. 9: Michif demonstratives animate

proximal medial distal

inanimate

singular

plural

obviative

singular

plural

awa ana naha

ookik anikik nekik

oohi’n anihi nehi

ooma anima nema

oohi’n anihi nehi

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Note that demonstratives must agree in animacy with the nouns they modify, which means they have animate and inanimate forms. They can also appear before or after the noun they modify. They do not occur alone with nouns, but rather must co-occur with an article, as shown in the examples in 41.3.2.1.

41.3.3 Obviation Michif can optionally distinguish between multiple third persons by using an obviative form, in animate nouns only. In discourse, if there is more than one named third person, the most relevant or topical one is seen as the ‘proximate’ one, while the second third person is ‘obviative’. This helps distinguish third person actors in discourse. Note that while it is not obligatory in Michif, and even a generation ago had been reported to be on the decline (Weaver 1982), obviative forms are found among some speakers. In Algonquian generally, third persons are either proximate or obviative (Bloomfield 1962, Hockett 1966, Wolfart 1973). The obviative marks a ‘less important’ noun phrase than proximates, and if there is more than one third person in a clause, only one of them may be proximate. Only animate nouns are marked for obviation in Plains Cree, and obviatives are marked by the suffix -a. Obviation in Plains Cree is also used in possession: when a possessed noun has a third person possessor, the obviative marker -(w)a must be used, as in the example in (12). (12)      

Plains Cree (Bakker 1997: 89) a. o-mâmâ-wa   3poss-mother-obv   ‘his/her mother’

b.  

* o-mâmâ 3poss-mother

In Michif, however, obviation marking on nouns tends to be optional and subject to speaker variation. For example, while one speaker will disallow or disprefer the obviative marking on the French-derived la fam ‘the woman’, another speaker will optionally include it, as in the examples below. However, the Algonquian-derived oshisha ‘his/ her father-in-law’ seems to require the obviative marker (for most speakers), while, the French-derived taa’nt ‘aunt’ again optionally takes the obviative marker. It appears then that obviation marking is obligatory on Algonquian-derived animate nouns, mostly optional on French-derived animate nouns (and speaker-dependent), but impossible on inanimates, regardless of source language. The following examples display this variation in usage. (13)        

a.        

(adapted from Rosen 2007: 19) Lom la fam kii waapameew. l-om la fam(-a) def.m.sg-man def.f.sg woman ‘The man saw the woman.’

kii=waapam-ew. past=see.vta-3>3’

(N. Fleury)

Michif 

       

b.      

Lom la fama/fam kii waapameew. l-om la fam(-a) def.m.sg-man def.f.sg woman ‘The man saw the woman.’

kii=waapam-ew. past=see.vta-3>3’

 965

(V. Demontigny)

In (13a), Norman Fleury uses the form without the obviative marker -a on fam ‘woman’, but (13b) shows that Verna Demontigny says either is fine. Whether this is dialectal or individual variation is impossible to say here without further study. (14)        

(adapted from Rosen 2007: 20) Lom oshisha l-om o-shish-a def.m.sg-man 3poss-father.in.law-obv The man saw his father-in-law.’

(15)      

Lom sa l-om sa def.m.sg-man 3sg.f.poss ‘The man saw his aunt.’

taa’nt(a) taa’nt(-a) aunt-obv

kii waapameew. kii waapam-eew. past see.vta-3>3’ kii waapameew. kii waapam-eew past see.vta-3>3’

In the example in (14), which is a Cree-source noun, obviation marking is normally present for most speakers. The example in (15) shows that possession is optionally marked for obviation for French-derived nouns. Following vowels, the form of the obviative marker is -iwa, as we can see in the following examples in (16), adapted from Bakker (1997). (16)          

a.     b.    

Piiter li bo’n jeu(-iwa) kii=pimichisahw-eew. Peter def.m.sg good god-obv past=follow.vta-3>3’ ‘Peter was a disciple of Jesus.’ Piit iva do’ntii soo’n zhvo(-iwa). Pete go.vai.3 tame 3sg.poss.m.sg horse-obv ‘Pete is going to tame his horse.’

Finally, the following example, adapted from Bakker (1997), shows obviative possession marked by a different suffix –iyiw, which Demontigny also uses. (17)    

kaah-kiihtwaam-ee-wocheem-aa-t redup-again-comp-kiss.vta-3>3’ ‘She repeatedly kissed his brother.’

soo’n 3sg.poss.m.sg

frehr-iyiw. brother-obv.poss

There are also obviative demonstratives which can be optionally used, as in the examples in (18). (18)    

a.  

Kii waapameew Nicole past see.vta-3>3’ Nicole ‘Nicole saw that woman.’

ana dem.dist

la def.f.sg

fam. woman

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b.    

Kii waapameew Nicole past see.vta-3>3’ Nicole ‘Nicole saw that woman.’

anihi dem.dist.obv

la def.f.sg

fam. woman

The fact that most nouns are not from Cree may have led to the erosion of the typical Algonquian obviative system in Michif for most speakers, but it does appear that there are vestiges of obviation which appear primarily within the small group of Cree-source nouns. As we have begun to see in this section, animacy and gender play an important role in the grammar of Michif noun phrases. That said, there is not much nominal morphology, or affixation, in the Michif nouns, and what little that exists is often variable, such as in obviation. Rosen (2007) and Gillon and Rosen (2018) discuss nominal morphology in more detail, but it should be obvious here that the verbs are locus of the most morphological complexity in Michif.

41.4 Verb phrases in Michif Michif verb phrases are often described as Plains Cree verb phrases, analogous to the noun phrases being described as French (Bakker 1997). Again, I focus on Michif specifically in this section for description, not directly referring to Plains Cree, but for the interested reader, see Oxford (this volume) and references therein, as well as Wolfart (1973, 1997). Although there are differences between Michif and Plains Cree, more resources exist for Plains Cree, and reading up on Plains Cree verbal morphology can be extremely helpful. This section begins with a general explanation of verb classes in Michif, before moving onto the conjugations of the three orders of Michif verbs: the independent order, the conjunct order, and the imperative order.

41.4.1 Verb classes in Michif There are four principal verb types in Michif, as expected in Algonquian languages, which depend on animacy and the number of participants in the sentence. This can be seen in the following set of verbs meaning ‘to dry’: (19)      

a. b. c. d.

Paash-ow. Paash-teew Paash-weew Paash-am

s/he is dry it is dry s/he dries someone s/he dries something

VAI VII VTA VTI

In the first two sentences, there is a single participant acting: in the first case the subject is animate, ‘s/he’ and in the second sentence the subject is inanimate ‘it’. The verb conjugation (or suffix), bolded, changes based on the animacy of the subject. In the

Michif 

 967

Algonquian linguistic tradition, the class of verbs exemplified in (19a) is often called Verb-Animate-Intransitive (VAI) while the class of verbs exemplified in (19b) is often called Verb-Intransitive-Inanimate (VII). In the sentences in (19c, d), we can note that there are two participants: the dry-er (subject of the verb) and the dry-ee (object of the verb). In these cases, the bolded suffixes still change, but this time it’s the dry-ee that dictates the animacy marked on the verb. In other words, although the subject (dry-er) is animate in both cases, whether the object being dried is animate or inanimate changes the suffix. These are often given the labels Verb-Transitive-Animate (VTA) and Verb-Transitive-Inanimate (VTI), respectively. The labels VAI, VII, VTA and VTI can be understood with the table given in Table 10. Tab. 10: Verb labels Verbs

Animate

Inanimate

Intransitive (one participant) Transitive (two participants)

VAI (Animate, Intransitive) Paash-ow VTA (Transitive, Animate) Paash-weew

VII (Inanimate, Intransitive) Paash-teew VTI (Transitive, Inanimate) Paash-am

Understanding these labels is helpful for reading other resources written using them, but the important point is that in Michif, the stem or root of the verb gives the basic meaning of the verb, while the ending tells us the transitivity, i.  e., the number of participants, as well as the animacy of those participants. Note that sometimes the root of the verb changes dependent on animacy. For example, the word for ‘to eat’ changes depending on if the object is animate, as we can see in (20). (20)      

a.   b.  

miichi-w eat.inan-3 mow-e-w eat.an-dbl3-3

‘s/he’s eating it (inan)’   ‘s/he’s eating it (anim)’  

In (20a), the object is inanimate, and the verb stem miicho- is used, but in (20b), the object is animate, and so the verb stem used is mow-. Both forms mean ‘to eat’, but mowis used with animate objects being eaten (for example fish, animals, or other grammatically animate nouns).

41.4.2 Verbal structure in Michif Verbs in Michif consist of up to four main parts: preverbs, prefixes, the stem, and suffixes (Rosen 2007). Only the stem and suffixes are obligatory. The third person stems

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are the least marked, normally with just a suffix, while first and second persons take a prefix and a suffix. This contrast can be seen in the following examples, where (21) shows just the root ihtohtee- ‘to go’ with a third person suffix and (22) shows the root with both a prefix and a suffix. (21)    

ihtohtee-w. go.vai-3 ‘S/he is going.’

(22)    

n-itohtaa-n. 1-go.vai-1/2 ‘I am going/planning to go’

Suffixes are much more extensive in Michif than prefixes, which mark primarily person. There is also a second category of preverbs which are prefix-like, but are usually not called prefixes because they are morphologically more independent, separable from the verb stem. These tend to change the tense, mode and aspect of the verb, and are discussed in section 41.4.3. Verbal prefixes in Michif are limited to marking person. The primary two verbal prefixes are ni- for denoting first person, and ki- for second person. For example, consider the difference between the two forms below. (23)    

a.    

ni-nipaa-n. 1-sleep.vai-1/2 ‘I am sleeping

b.    

ki-nipaa-n. 2-sleep.vai-1/2 ‘You are sleeping.’

41.4.3 Preverbs Preverbs modify the meaning of a verb and are placed after the person prefix and before the main verb stem. Preverbs mark notions such as tense, modality, and aspect. They can be thought of as ‘helping verbs’, where they help change the meaning of the main verb, but do not appear on their own. Examples can be seen in (24) where the preverbs are bolded. (24)                  

a.   b.   c.   d.   e.  

Nipaa-w. sleep-3 Kii nipaa-w. past sleep-3 Ka nipaa-w. fut sleep-3 Nohte nipaa-w. want sleep-3 Wii mishpon. Imm.Fut snow

‘S/he is sleeping.’   ‘S/he was sleeping.’   ‘S/he will sleep.’   ‘S/he wants to sleep.’   ‘It is going to snow.’  

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Michif preverbs can be stacked, adding multiple modal or adverbial meanings to the verb, as seen in the examples in (25). (25)          

a.   b.   a.  

Ki-kakwee piishkishkwaa-n aa’n Michif ‘You are trying to speak Michif.’ 2-try speak-non3 in Michif   ki-kakwee miyo piikishkwaa-n aa’n Michif. ‘You try to speak Michif well.’ 2-try good speak-non3 in Michif Wii kihchi mishpon ‘it’s going to be very snowy.’ Imm.fut very snow  

41.4.4 Verb conjugations in the independent order The independent order is unmarked morphologically, in that there is no particular morpheme which appears obligatorily with this order. Instead, certain person and number paradigms are specifically associated with the independent order. These verbs may be thought of as indicative forms.

41.4.4.1 Person and number in the independent order Suffixation is the primary method of marking verbal inflection in Michif. Transitivity dictates the suffixes added: transitive verbs have one paradigm while intransitive verbs use another. Suffixes are added to further mark plural, while singular is phonologically unmarked. In other words, if only a person suffix is added, it indicates a singular subject. To form a plural, a plural suffix must be added to the person suffix, and this suffix must correspond to the appropriate person; first, second or third. Table 11 gives the paradigm for animate subjects. Tab. 11: Michif person suffixes

person

First/second (non3rd) Third

-n -w

number

1st plural 2nd plural 3rd plural

-aan -aawaaw -ak

When building the verb, the person suffix is added to the stem, and then the number suffix is added to that new stem. For example, we can see how the verb is built in the following examples.

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a.   b.  

ki-nipaa-n ‘You are sleeping.’ 2-sleep-1/2 ki-nipaa-n-aawaaw ‘You (pl) are sleeping’ 2-sleep-1/2-2pl

Note that no pronoun is required, and indeed, overt pronouns are not common in Michif, as in other Algonquian languages. Although there are exceptions to this pattern, most verbs follow the same paradigm, differing only in the final stem vowel. To distinguish between inclusive and exclusive forms in the first-person plural, the same suffix is used, but the person prefix differs. (27)          

a.     b.    

ninipaanaan ‘We (excl) are sleeping.’ ni-nipaa-n-aan   1-sleep-non3-1PL kinipaanaan ‘We (incl) are sleeping’ ki-nipaa-n-aan   2-sleep-non3-1pl

It is interesting to note that Michif has innovated the form in (27b), as Plains Cree has separate suffixes for the inclusive and exclusive forms, as shown in the examples below Plains Cree (from Wolfart 1996) (28)    

a.    

ni-tapi-na:n ki-tapi-na:naw ki-tapi-na:wa:w

‘we sit’ (excl) ‘we sit’ (incl) ‘you (pl) sit’

The above examples in Plains Cree show that while Michif morphology does resemble Plains Cree morphology in many ways, the two languages do diverge, and Michif has innovated certain forms in its own way. In Table 12, we see the full paradigm with all person and number forms, for intransitive verb nipaaw ‘to sleep’. Tab. 12: Michif verb conjugation/paradigm for nipaaw ‘to sleep’

Singular

1st 2nd 3rd

Ni-nipaa-n Ki-nipaa-n Nipaa-w

‘I sleep’ ‘You sleep’ ‘S/he sleeps’

Plural

1st 1st pl incl 2nd pl 3rd pl

Ni-nipaa-n-aan Ki-nipaa-n-aan Ki-nipaa-n-aawaaw Nipaa-w-ak

‘We (but not you) sleep’ ‘We (including you) sleep’ ‘You guys sleep’ ‘They sleep’

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The above paradigm shows the basic conjugation of an animate intransitive verb in the independent order, where the animate subject is marked by way of prefixes (for first and second persons) and suffixes (all persons, and number). The transitive verbs are somewhat more complex, as both subject and object are marked on them in the independent order. It is perhaps important to note here that Michif, like other Algonquian languages, make a difference between discourse participants (first and second persons) which pattern similarly, and non-discourse participants, i.  e., third persons, throughout the paradigms. In Table 12 this is evident in the fact that only the discourse participants mark with person prefixes; the non-discourse participants do not take prefixes. Furthermore, the -n suffix appears throughout the discourse participant forms while the -w marks the non-discourse participant third person. This opposition of the two categories can be found throughout the verbal paradigms of Michif (and other Algonquian languages). Now that we have seen the intransitive verb paradigm, I turn to the more complex transitive verbs in the next section.

41.4.4.2 Transitive verbs in independent order Animacy of nouns plays an important role in the grammar of Michif, which we saw in part with the fact that the animacy of the object determines the form of the verb in transitive verbs. In addition, both the subject and object are marked directly on the verb stem, and the animacy of the object determines which suffix is used. 41.4.4.2.1 Independent transitive inanimate verbs The inanimate transitive paradigm is considerably simpler than where both subject and object are animate, as the objects are necessarily third person, and object number is not marked. The inanimate object may be either singular or plural. Tab. 13: Transitive paradigm with inanimate objects Subject

 

Non-third person Third animate First plural Second plural Third animate plural

-en -am -aan -aawaaw -wak

The same principles apply to verb building as did for the intransitive verbs. Person is the first suffix required, and then if the subject is plural, the appropriate suffix in the paradigm is added.

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Tab. 14: Conjugation of transitive verb with inanimate object ‘to see it/something’ Subject

To see it/something

1st sg 2nd sg 3rd sg 1st pl excl 1st pl incl 2nd pl 3rd pl

Ni-waapaht-en Ki-waapaht-en Waapaht-am Ni-waapaht-en-aan Ki-waapaht-en-aan Ki-waapaht-en-aawaaw Waapaht-am-w-ak

41.4.4.2.2 Independent transitive animate verbs Transitive verbs in the independent order in Michif are marked for both the subject and the object. In addition to the person prefixes and suffixes, they include a direction marker which indicates a direct or inverse relationship to the hierarchy given two participants, or can have a reciprocal or reflexive effect on verbs with only one participant. This direction marker therefore specifies which participant is the subject and which is the object. There are two settings in terms of direction: direct and inverse. In Michif, second person controls agreement over first person marking, and both second and first marking control agreement over third person marking when the direct suffix is used. In other words, when there is both a first and a second person participant involved in a (transitive) verb, the second person marking takes priority over the first person. Likewise, if there is a discourse participant (i.  e., first or second person) involved with a third person, the discourse participant marking takes priority. Third person subject marking/agreement surfaces only if there are two third persons involved. Consider the following examples. (29)          

a.     b.    

Kiwaapamin Ki-waapam-i-n 2- see-non3.dir-non3 Kiwaapamitin. Ki-waapam-iti-n 2- see-non3.inv-non3

‘You see me.’     ‘I see you.’    

While the person prefixes and suffixes are the same, the direction suffixes are different, and therefore the meaning changes. The pattern is summarized in Table 15.

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Tab. 15: Direct/inverse markers in Michif transitive verbs Third and non-third Both non-third Third-third

Direct Inverse Direct Inverse Direct Inverse

-aa-ikw-i-iti-e-iyi-

In addition to person and number of the subject being expressed, the person and number of the object is also expressed in the transitive animate paradigms. Given that there are systematic differences between the third person and non-third person forms, I organize the forms here into those with third persons and those without, in an attempt to present the morphology as simply as possible. The first transitive paradigms to be given are the first and second person forms of transitive verbs. (30)                   (31)                  

Direct transitive verb paradigm Nawashwaat- 1st person singular object ‘chase’ Kinawaashwaatin. 2nd person subject Ki-nawaashwaat-i-n 2-chase-non3dir-non3 ‘You (sg) are chasing me.’ 2nd person Kinawaashwaatinaawaaw. plural subject Ki-nawaashwaat-i-n-aawwaaw 2-chase-non3dir-non3-2pl ‘You (pl) are chasing me.’ Inverse transitive verb paradigm Nawashwaat- 1st person singular subject ‘chase’ Kinawaashwaatitin. 2nd person object Ki-nawaashwaat-iti-n 2-chase-non3inv-non3 ‘I (sg) am chasing you (sg).’ 2nd person Kinawaashwaatitinaawaaw. plural object Ki-nawaashwaat-iti-n-aawwaaw 2-chase-non3inv-non3-2pl ‘I’m chasing you (pl).’

1st person plural object Kinawaashwaatinaan. Ki-nawaashwaat-i-n-aan 2-chase-non3dir-non3-1pl ‘You (sg) are chasing us.’ Kinawaashwaatinaawaaw. Ki-nawaashwaat-i-n-aawaaw 2-chase-non3dir-non3-2pl ‘You (pl) are chasing us.’ 1st person plural subject Kinawaashwaatitinaan. Ki-nawaashwaat-iti-n-aan 2-chase-non3inv-non3-1pl ‘We (sg) are chasing you (sg).’ Kinawaashwaatitinaawaaw. Ki-nawaashwaat-iti-n-aawaaw 2-chase-non3inv-non3-2pl ‘We are chasing you (pl).’

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Note that the inverse or direct suffix changes, depending on relative position of each argument in the person hierarchy. The suffix /-n/ appears in all forms, signalling nonthird person. The following examples show the forms for the transitive paradigms which mix non-third person and animate third person participants, using the verb waapam- ‘see’ as an example. In (32), all the examples have third person as an object, and in (33), third person is the subject. (32)                                          

Mixed third and non-third transitive direct verb paradigm Waapam- ‘see’

 

2 anim sing object

3 anim pl object

1st

Niwaapamaaw Ni-waapam-aa-w 1-see-dir-3 ‘I see him/her.’

Niwaapamaawak Ni-waapam-aa-w-ak 1-see-dir-3-3pl ‘I see them’

2nd

Kiwaapamaaw Ki-waapam-aa-w 2-see-dir-3 ‘You see him/her.’

Kiwaapamaawak Ki-waapam-aa-w-ak 2-see-dir-3-3pl ‘You see them’

1st

Niwaapamaanaan Ni-waapam-aa-n-aan 1-see-dir-non3-1pl ‘We (excl) see him/her’

Niwaapamaanaanik Ni-waapam-aa-n-aan-ik 1-see-dir-non3-1pl-dblpl ‘We (excl) see them.’

1st incl (1-2)

Kiwaapamaanaan Ki-waapam-aa-n-aan 2-see-dir-non3-1pl ‘We (incl) see him/her’

Kiwaapamaanaanik Ki-waapam-aa-n-aan-ik 2-see-dir-non3-1pl-dblpl ‘We (incl) see them.’

2nd

Kiwaapamaawaaw Ki-waapam-aa-aawaaw 2-see-dir-2pl ‘You see him/her.’

Kiwaapamaawaawak Ki-waapam-aa-aawaaw-ak 2-see-dir-2pl-3pl ‘You see them.’

Singular objects

Plural objects

Michif 

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Mixed third and non-third transitive inverse verb paradigm Waapam- ‘see’

 

2 anim sing subject

3 anim pl subject

1st

Niwaapamik6 Ni-waapam-ikw 1-see-inv ‘S/he sees me.’

Niwaapamaamikwak Ni-waapam-ikw-ak 1-see-inv-3pl ‘They see me

2nd

Kiwaapamik Ki-waapam-ikw-w 2-see-inv-3 ‘S/he sees you (sg).’

kiwaapamaamikwak Ki-waapam-ikw-w-ak 2-see-inv-3-3pl ‘They see you (sg)

1st

Niwaapamikonaan Ni-waapam-ikw-n-aan 1-see-inv-non3-1pl ‘S/he sees us (excl)’

Niwaapamikonaanik Ni-waapam-ikw-n-aan-ik 1-see-inv-non3-1pl-dblpl ‘They see us (excl).’

1st incl (1-2)

Kiwaapamikonaan Ki-waapam-ikw-n-aan 2-see-inv-non3-1pl ‘S/he sees us (incl)’

Kiwaapamikonaanik Ki-waapam-ikw-n-aan-ik 2-see- inv -non3-1pl-dblpl ‘They see us (incl).’

2nd

Kiwaapamikowaaw Ki-waapam-ikw-aawaaw 2-see- inv -2pl ‘S/he sees you (pl).’

Kiwaapamikowak Ki-waapam-ikw-aawaaw-ak 2-see- inv -2pl-3pl ‘They see you (pl).’

Singular objects

Plural objects

The final paradigm in the animate transitive forms with a proximate and an obviative. It should be noted that not all Michif speakers appear to mark obviatives today (see Weaver 1982, 1983 for discussion), and the reduced paradigms are given here.

6 The w of the suffix -ikw sounds different depending on where it falls in the word. At the end of the word, the final w drops, and the suffix is pronounced [ɪk], while when it is in the middle of the word before another consonant, the ‘w’ is pronounced as a vowel /ɔ/, or short ‘o’ sound. For this reason, the suffix -ikw often surfaces in writing as iko.

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Third person animate transitive verb paradigms Waapam- ‘to see’

3’ anim sing object

3’ anim plur object

3rd anim sing subj

Waapameew Waapam-ee-w See-dbl3-3 ‘S/he sees him/her.’

Waapameew Waapam-ee-w See-dbl3-3 ‘S/he sees them.’

3rd anim plur subj

Waapameewak Waapam-ee-w-ak See-dbl3-3-3pl ‘They see him/her.’

Waapameewak Waapam-ee-w-ak See-dbl3-3-3pl ‘They see them.’

This section has outlined the verbal paradigms for transitive and intransitive paradigms in the independent order or Michif verbs. There is a second order in Michif, known as the conjunct order, which may be thought of as subordinate verb forms, and these forms have a different set of morphemes which are outlined in the next section.

41.4.5 The conjunct order in Michif There are three subordinating markers in Michif which introduce subordinate clauses, often called the conjunct forms. These three markers are given in the table below: Tab. 16: Michif subordinate markers Marker

Syntactic function

Approximate English translation

ee/ee’n ka(a) chi

complementizer relativizer purpose

‘as’, ‘that’ ‘who’ ‘in order to’

When these conjunct markers are used, the verb forms change, and the conjunct order is used, rather than the independent order seen in 41.3.4. Examples of sentences with conjunct forms are given in examples (35)–(37). The conjunct verbs follow the conjunct markers, both given in bold. (35)      

Gii wihtamaak chi pooyoyaan. Ni-kii wihtamaa-k chi pooyo-yaan 1-past tell-3.inv purp stop-1cj ‘He told me to finish.’

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(36)      

Gii wihtamaak chi pooyoyaan. Ni-kii wihtamaa-k ee’n pooyo-yaan 1-past tell-3.inv comp stop-1cj  ‘He told me that I was finished.’

(37)      

la fiiy kaa lasmartiwit la fiiy kaa lasmart-iwi-t the girl that smart-be-3cj  ‘the girl that is smart’

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See Cenerini (2022) for more in-depth discussion on the differences between the conjunct markers. Person prefixes are not used on conjunct forms of verbs, nor is the two-participant marking with inverse and direct morphology that we saw on the independent forms. The conjunct forms for the intransitive verbs are given in (38). (38)                                            

1st sing

2nd sing

3rd sing

1st pl excl

1st pl incl

2nd pl

3rd pl

Conjunct forms for intransitive verbs with animate subjects nipaa- ‘to sleep’ ee’n nipaayaan ee’n nipaa-aan ‘that I sleep’ ee’n nipaayen ee’n nipaa-en ‘that you sleep’ ee’n nipaat ee’n nipaa-t ‘that s/he sleeps’ ee’n nipaayaahk ee’n nipaa-aahkw ‘that we (but not you) sleep’ ee’n nipaayahk ee’n nipaa-ahkw ‘that we (incl you) sleep’ ee’n nipaayehk ee’n nipaa-ehkw ‘that you (pl) sleep’ ee’n nipaachik ee’n nipaa-t-ik ‘that they sleep’

Turning to the transitive forms in the conjunct verb in (39), these are also somewhat simplified from their independent counterparts.

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Conjunct transitive forms with second-person subject and first-person object Waapam- ‘to see’ 1st sing obj 1st plur obj 2nd subj ee’n waapamiyen ee’n waapamiyaahk ee’n waapam-i-en ee’n waapam-i-aahkw that see-non3dir-2.cj that see-non3dir-1pl.cj ‘that you (sg) see me’ ‘that you (sg) see us’ 2nd subj ee’n waapamijehk ee’n waapamiyaahk ee’n waapam-i-ehkw ee’n waapam-i-aahkw that see-non3dir-2pl.cj That see-non3dir-1pl.cj ‘that you (pl) see me’ ‘that you (pl) see us’

In (40) we see the forms with first-person subjects and second-person objects. (40)                  

Conjunct transitive forms with first person object and second person subject Waapam- ‘to see’ 1st sing subj 1st plur subj 2nd obj ee’n waapamitan ee’n waapamitaahk ee’n waapam-it-an ee’n waapam-it-aahkw that see-non3inv-2.cj that see-non3inv-1pl.cj ‘that I see you (sg)’ ‘that we see you (sg)’ 2nd obj ee’n waapamitehk ee’n waapamitaahk ee’n waapam-it-ehkw ee’n waapam-it-aahkw that see-non3inv-2pl.cj That see-non3inv-1pl.cj ‘that I see you (pl)’ ‘that we see you (pl)’

We can see that there is only one participant suffix on the verb, with the direction marker (-it and -i) signaling that there are two discourse participants (first and second person) involved. The next forms are those that include a third person and a non-third person (i.  e., first or second) in the discourse. The examples in (41) shows the forms with third person as objects, and first or second as subjects, and accordingly, we see the direct marker -aa- throughout the paradigm. (41)

Conjunct transitive forms with third person object and first/second person subject

 

Waapam- ‘to see’  

3 anim sg obj

3 anim pl obj

1 

ee’n waapamak ee’n waapam-aa-k That see-dir-1/3cj ‘that I see him/her’

ee’n waapamaakik ee’n waapam-aa-k-ik That see-dir-1/3cj-3plcj ‘that I see them’

2 

ee’n waapamaat ee’n waapam-aa-t That see-dir-3cj ‘that you (sg) see him/her’

ee’n waapamaachik ee’n waapam-aa-t-ik That see-dir-3cj-3plcj ‘that you (sg) see them’

Singular subjects

Michif 

  1 

Plural subjects

ee’n waapamaayaahk ee’n waapam-aa-aahk That see-dir-1plcj ‘that we (excl) see him/her’

ee’n waapamaayaahk ee’n waapam-aa-aahkw 1/2 (incl) That see-dir-1/2cj ‘that we (incl) see him/her’

2 

ee’n waapamaayehk ee’n waapam-aa-ehkw That see-dir-2plcj ‘that you (pl) see him/her’

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ee’n waapamaayaahkik ee’n waapam-aa-aahk-ik That see-dir-1plcj-3plcj ‘that we (excl) see them’ ee’n waapamaayaahkok ee’n waapam-aa-aahkw-ik That see-dir-1/2cj-3plcj ‘that we (incl) see them’ ee’n waapamaayehkok ee’n waapam-aa-ehkw-ik That see-dir-2plcj-3plcj ‘that you (pl) see them’

In (42), the third person is the subject while the first and second person are the object. We now see the inverse marker -ikw- appearing throughout the table. (42)                                          

Conjunct transitive forms with third person subject and first/second person object Waapam- ‘to see’  

3 anim sg subj

3 anim pl subj

1 

ee’n waapamit ee’n waapam-i-t that see-inv-3sgcj ‘that s/he sees me’

ee’n waapamichik ee’n waapam-i-t-ik that see- inv -3sgcj-3plcj ‘that they see me’

2 

ee’n waapamishk ee’n waapam- i -t that see- inv -2ob ‘that s/he sees you (sg)’

ee’n waapamishkik ee’n waapam- i -shk-ik that see- inv -2ob-3plcj ‘that they see you (sg)’

1 

ee’n waapamikoyaahk ee’n waapam- ikw -aahk that see- inv -1plcj ‘that s/he sees us (excl)’

ee’n waapamikoyaahkik ee’n waapam- ikw -aahk-ik that see- inv -1plcj-3plcj ‘that they see us (excl)’

Singular objects

Plural objects

ee’n waapamikoyaahk ee’n waapam- ikw -aahkw 1/2 (incl) that see- inv -1/2plcj ‘that s/he sees us (incl)’

2 

ee’n waapamikoyehk ee’n waapam- ikw -ehkw that see- inv -2plcj ‘that s/he sees you (pl)’

ee’n waapamaikoyaahkok ee’n waapam- ikw -aahkw-ik that see- inv -1/2plcj-3plcj ‘that they see us (excl)’ ee’n waapamikoyehkok ee’n waapam- ikw -ehkw-ik that see- inv -2plcj-3plcj ‘that they see you (pl)’

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Note that first or second person acting on an obviative is absent from this paradigm. Again, obviatives are an understudied area in Michif, and it remains unclear how productive they are in speech. That said, Sammons (2019: 101) gives an example of a transitive form with an obviative, provided in (43). (43)            

kaa-waapamimak sa jeeñg, gii-waashtahikaan kaa-waapam-im-a-k sa jeeñg, gii-waashtahikaan REL–seeVTA–OBV– dir-1/3cj 3SG.POSS:FEM:SG girlfriend ni–kii–waashtahikee–n 1–PST–waveVAI–NON3:SG ‘when I saw his girlfriend (obv), I waved’ (Verna DeMontigny; 2014–08–14; volunteered)

Note that in (43), there is an additional suffix -im, indicating that the object of the verb is obviative ‘I saw her (obv)’, as opposed to the waapamak ‘I saw her’ form. More research is needed to know whether this is present for all speakers and to what extent. The final examples of conjunct transitive paradigms shows the transitive forms when there are only third person participants. (44)                  

Conjunct transitive forms with third person subject and Waapam- ‘to see’ 3rd animate singular subject 3rd animate plural subject rd 3 animate singular ee’n waapamaat ee’n waapamaachik object ee’n waapam-aa-t ee’n waapam-aa-t-ik that see-dir-3cj that see-dir-3cj-3cjpl ‘that s/he sees him/her’ ‘that they see him/her’ 3rd animate plural ee’n waapamaat ee’n waapamaachik object ee’n waapam-aa-t ee’n waapamaachik that see-dir-3cj that see-dir-3cj-3cjpl ‘that s/he sees them’ ‘that they see them’

Now that we have outlined the conjunct order, we turn to the imperatives.

41.4.6 Imperatives The last order of verbs, in addition to the independent and conjunct forms, is the imperative order. These verbs are used as suggestions or orders to others, and there are fewer forms because there are only three possible subjects  – second person singular and plural, and first person inclusive (including second person). Imperatives are only used when addressing someone, so it of course makes sense that they only have forms which include the second person in the conversation. First, I outline the intransitive imperatives. Second, I discuss the transitives, with an inanimate object and with an animate object. The intransitive imperatives are given in Table 17 and transitive imperatives in Table 18.

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Tab. 17: Intransitive imperative forms nipaa- ‘sleep’

 

 

2nd singular

nipaah nipaa-h nipaatak nipaa-taak nipaahk nipaa-hk

‘(you sg) sleep!’

1st pl incl 2nd plural

‘let’s sleep!’ ‘(you pl) sleep!’

Tab. 18: Transitive imperatives with inanimate object miich- ‘eat’

 

 

2 singular

miichih miich-i-h miichitaak miich-i-taak miichihk miich-i-hk

‘(you sg) eat it!’

nd

1st pl incl 2nd plural

‘let’s eat it!’ ‘(you pl) eat it!’

Lastly, the following examples outline all the transitive imperatives with animate objects, with the subjects in the first row and the objects in the first column. The imperatives continue to reflect the distinction between third and non-third person in terms of different affixes. (45)

Transitive imperatives with animate object

kanawaa-   pam-‘to look at’

first and second

2nd sing subject

kanawaapamin 1 sg kanawaapam-i-n obj look.at-dir-non3

2nd plural subject

1-2 (1st incl) subj

kanawaapamik kanawaapam-i-k look.at-dir-imppl

 

kanawaapam-i-n-aan kanawaapaminaan 1 pl kanawaapam-i-n-aan kanawaapaminaan obj look.at-dir-non3-1pl look.at-dir-non3-1pl

 

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kanawaapam 3 sg kanawaapam obj look.at ‘Look at him/her!’

kanawaapam kanawaapam look.at ‘Look at (pl) him/her!’

kanawaapamaataan kanawaapam-aa-taan look.at-dir-1/2imp Let’s look at them!’

kanawaapamik kanawaapam-ik 3 pl look.at-dir-imppl obj ‘Look at (sg) them!’

kanawaapamik kanawaapam-ik look.at-dir-imppl ‘Look at (pl) them!’

kanawaapamaataanik kanawaapam-aataan-ik look.at-dir-non3-1plimppl

kanawaapamim kanawaapam-im look.at- impobv obv ‘Look at him (obv)’ sg

kanawaapamim kanawaapam-im look.at- impobv ‘Look at (pl) him (obv)’

kanawaapamimaataan kanawaapamimaataan look.at- impobv-dir1/2imp ‘Let’s look at him (obv)’

We have seen in this section that there are three orders of verbal suffixes: independent, conjunct, and imperative. We have further seen that both transitivity and animacy of subject and/or object are important in determining both which stems and which suffixes are used in Michif. The length of this subsection should make obvious the complexity of the rich morphological marking that is included on Michif verbs. It should be noted however that this discussion of Michif verbal inflection is not meant to be exhaustive, but to serve as a guide covering the primary paradigms of the language.

41.5 Syntax Although there has not been much published description of the syntax of Michif, we can at least say that Michif has the relatively free word order that is typical of Algonquian languages (Oxford, this volume). Subject, verb and object can appear in just about any order, although the order likely entails different topic emphasis. This area requires further research to confirm. Also, like other Algonquian languages, Michif does not require overt nominal arguments, although impressionistically, arguments surface somewhat more often than in Plains Cree, its nearest relation. That said, due to a lack of published research and in-depth description of Michif syntax, we cannot make any definitive statements regarding word order or nominal argument requirements in Michif. Overall, Michif appears to follow typical Algonquian syntactic patterns, but more research is required.

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41.6 Conclusion The goal of this chapter has been twofold: first, to outline the emergence of a new language out of contact between French and Plains Cree, which accompanied the emergence of a new people, the Red River Métis; and second, to provide linguistic information regarding some interesting features of the language. Michif is closely related to Plains Cree, and many features are shared in both languages. That said, there are a number of differences which have been mentioned here: Michif has a nominal classification system which includes both sex-based gender (masculine and feminine) and animacy-based gender (animate and inanimate), unlike Plains Cree. Furthermore, the sound systems and elements of conjugation patterns differ between the two languages as well. While Michif appears arguably to be a part of the Algonquian language family, in terms of its salient features such as verb patterning, obviation and the importance of animacy throughout the grammar, it is clearly distinct from Plains Cree and is remarkable in the innovations realized in its development out of French and Cree.

References Bakker, Peter. 1997. A Language of our Own: The Genesis of Michif, the Mixed Cree-French Language of the Canadian Métis. (Oxford Studies in Anthropological Linguistics). New York, NY: Oxford University Press. Bakker, Peter & Robert Papen. 1997. Michif: A mixed language based on Cree and French. In Sarah G. Thomason (ed.), Contact Languages: A Wider Perspective, 295–363. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, Bloomfield, Leonard. 1946. Algonquian. In Harry Hoijer (ed.), Linguistic Structures of Native America, 85–129. (Viking Fund Publications in Anthropology 6). New York: Viking Fund. Burnouf, Laura, Norman Fleury & Guy Lavallée. 2007. The Michif resource guide: Lii Michif niiyanaan, aan Michif biikishwanaan. Saskatoon: Gabriel Dumont Institute of Native Studies and Applied Research. Cenerini, Chantale. 2022. Li zistwer Michif: Aspects of narrative structure in Michif storytelling. PhD dissertation. University of Manitoba. https://mspace.lib.umanitoba.ca/bitstream/handle/1993/36540/CCenerini_ PhDdissertation_May27.pdf?sequence=1 Crawford, John C. 1985. Speaking Michif in four Metis communities. The Canadian Journal of Native Studies III(1). 47–55. Dahlstrom, Amy. 1995. Motivation vs. predictability in Algonquian gender. In David H. Pentland (ed.), Papers of the 26th Algonquian Conference, 52–66. Winnipeg, MB: University of Manitoba. Darnell, Regna, & Anthony L. Vanek. 1976. The semantic basis of the animate/inanimate distinction in Cree. Papers in Linguistics 9(3–4). 159–180. Déchaine, Rose-Marie. 1999. What Algonquian morphology is really like: Hockett revisited. In Leora Bar-El, Rose-Marie Déchaine & Charlotte Reinholtz (eds.), Papers from the Workshop on Structure and Constituency in Native American Languages, 25–72. (MIT Occasional Papers in Linguistics). Cambridge, MA.: MITWPL. Forsythe, Laura. 2020. Aakoota-Kaawaapamittin: The Michif Language. https://www.nccie.ca/story/ aakoota-kaawaapaamittin-the-michif-language/. Gillon, Carrie & Nicole Rosen. 2018. Nominal contact in Michif. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Goddard, Ives. 2002. Grammatical gender in Algonquian. In H. Christoph Wolfart (ed.), Papers of the 33rd Algonquian Conference, 195–231. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba.

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Goddard, Ives. 1990. Primary and secondary stem derivation in Algonquian. International Journal of American Linguistics 56(4). 449–483. Hockett, Charles F. 1966. What Algonquian is really like. International Journal of American Linguistics 32. 59–73. Laverdure, Patline & Ida Rose Allard. 1983. The Michif Dictionary: Turtle Mountain Chippewa Cree. Edited by John Crawford. Winnipeg, MB: Pemmican Publications. Meakins, Felicity. 2013. Mixed languages. In Peter Bakker & Yaron Matras (eds.), Contact Languages: A Comprehensive Guide, 159–228. Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Oxford, Will. 2014. Microparameters of agreement: A diachronic perspective on Algonquian verb inflection. PhD thesis, University of Toronto. Papen, Robert A. 2005. On developing a writing system for Michif. Linguistica Atlantica, 26, 75–97. Pritchard, Hilary & Kobey Shwayder. 2014. Against a split phonology of Michif. University of Pennsylvania Working Papers in Linguistics 20. 1. Rhodes, Richard. 2001. Text strategies in Métchif. In H. Christoph Wolfart (ed.), Papers of the Thirty-second Algonquian conference, 455–469. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Rhodes, Richard. 1986. Métchif: a second look. In William Cowan (ed.), Actes du Septième Congrès des Algonquiniste, 287–296. Ottawa: Carleton University. Rhodes, Richard. 1977. French Cree: A case of borrowing. In William Cowan (ed.), Actes du Huitième Congrès des Algonquinistes, 625. Ottawa: Carleton University. Rosen, Nicole. 2006. Language contact and Michif stress assignment. Sprachtypologie und Universalienforschung – Language Typology and Universals (STUF) 59(2). 170–190. Rosen, Nicole. 2007. Domains in Michif Phonology. Toronto, ON: University of Toronto dissertation. Rosen, Nicole, Jesse Stewart & Olivia Sammons. 2020. How ‘mixed’ is mixed language phonology? An acoustic analysis of the Michif vowel system. Journal of the Acoustical Society of America 147(4). 2989–2999. Rosen, Nicole, Jesse Stewart, Michele Pesch-Johnson & Olivia Sammons. 2019. Michif VOT. In Sasha Calhoun, Paola Escudero, Marija Tabain & Paul Warren (eds.), Proceedings of the 19th International Congress of Phonetic Sciences, Melbourne, Australia 2019. 1372–1376. Sammons, Olivia. 2019. Nominal classification in Michif. PhD Dissertation. University of Alberta. Weaver, Deborah. 1982. Obviation in Michif. Grand Forks, North Dakota: University of North Dakota Master’s thesis. Weaver, Deborah. 1983. The effects of language change and death on obviation in Michif. In William Cowan (ed.), Actes du Quatorzième Congrès des Algonquinistes, vol. 14, 261–268. Ottawa, Ontario, Canada: Carleton University. Wolfart, H. Christoph. 1996. Sketch of Cree, an Algonquian language. In I. Goddard (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians 17, 390–439. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution.

Clarissa Forbes

42 Tsimshianic Abstract: Languages of the Tsimshianic family, spoken in the Skeena and Nass River watershed region in British Columbia, share a number of properties with other languages of the Pacific Northwest region. Their sound inventories feature glottalized consonants, and they permit clusters of consonants without vowels. Their word order is verb-first (VSO), and a central property of the grammar is a robust system of plural marking on both nouns and verbs. This chapter reviews topics on the sound system, word formation, and sentence building. In particular, I review two topics that commanded the majority of linguists’ attention until about a decade ago: glottalized sounds, and the agreement/pronoun system. This second is a complicated core area of the grammar, particularly for an L2 learner, and is perhaps unique to Tsimshianic: linguists have described the pattern as one of ‘ergative agreement reversal’ across two types of clauses. In the course of discussing sounds, words, and sentences, I also briefly cover some more recent lines of linguistic work of interest to language learning and teaching: stress and emphasis in words, mismatches between words and syntactic phrases, tense and perspective, and ways to form questions and convey a topic’s importance.

42.1 Introduction Tsimshianic derives from Tsimshian, an anglicization of Ts’msyen (ts’m- ‘in’; syen/ksiyeen ‘the Skeena River’), used by the coastal Tsimshianic-speaking peoples to refer to themselves. The Tsimshianic peoples and languages are indigenous to the watersheds of the Skeena and Nass Rivers in the northern region of what is today called British Columbia, Canada, plus one more recently established community in Alaska. The territory spans from the uppermost reaches of the Skeena and Nass Rivers in the BC interior, to where they empty into the Pacific Ocean, as well as nearby coastline and islands. All four Tsimshianic-speaking groups may refer to their language with some variant of the term s(i)m alg(y)ax ‘true/real speech’. The structure of the family is given in Figure 1. The deepest split is between the Maritime languages (Coast Tsimshian/Sm’algyax and Southern Tsimshian/Sgüüxs), and Tsimshianic Maritime Sgüüxs (ST)

Sm’algyax (CT)

Interior Nisg̲a’a (N)

Fig. 1: Table of Tsimshianic family relations https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-042

Gitksan (G)

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the Interior languages (Nisg̲a’a and Gitksan).1 Within both of the two major branches, individual varieties are to a large degree mutually intelligible. The entire family can be considered a continuum of dialects, with each village’s speech being somewhat different from that of its neighbors. People from nearby villages understand each other well, but those that are more geographically distant are less able to understand each other. The earliest documentation of the Tsimshianic languages is a Coast Tsimshian/ Sm’algyax text collection and a short comparative grammar of the two branches from Boas (1902, 1911). The later 20th century saw the development of the modern spelling systems, and print resources such as wordlists and dictionaries (Coast: Dunn 1978; Nisg̲a’a: Tarpent 1986; Gitksan: Hindle & Rigsby 1973; Mathews & Wale 1995) or linguistic grammars (Coast: Dunn 1979a; Sasama 2001; Nisg̲a’a: Tarpent 1987; Gitksan: Rigsby 1986). There are few public pedagogical resources. The most accessible and comprehensive is most certainly Anderson & Ignace’s (2008) grammar of Coast Tsimshian/Sm’algyax, and there are also teaching resources for the Eastern and Western varieties of Gitksan (Powell & Stevens 1977; Jensen & Powell 1979–1980). In the 21st century, there has been significant emphasis on the development of online talking dictionaries and wordlists (Ts’msyen Sm’algyax Authority 2017; Mother Tongues Dictionaries 2020; First Peoples’ Cultural Council 2020). Today, the family represents the full spread of language vitality in British Columbia; Gitksan is reported to be the second most vital indigenous language in BC with several hundred speakers, though the youngest are in their sixties (Dunlop et al. 2018). For the Gitxsan, while the Gitksan language is still the language in which business is conducted at feasts, and can be heard in use in some public places, there is a sense that this may begin to shift as new nonspeakers take up positions as chiefs in the feast hall. Nisg̲a’a is perhaps ten years further along the cline, and Coast Tsimshian/Sm’algyax yet further, with somewhere between 50 and a handful of speakers remaining. These languages each have hundreds of self-reported active learners. Southern Tsimshian/Sgüüxs has perhaps just one remaining speaker, or none, and just a handful of reported learners (Dunlop et al. 2018). The Tsimshianic languages share many features with languages of the North Pacific and Pacific Northwest geographic regions; some examples are verb-first word order and large inventories of consonants. They have had contact with neighboring Tlingit and Dene/Athabaskan languages to the north and west, Wakashan languages to the south, and other languages through Chinook Jargon. However, the unique character of the

1 Boas referred to the branches as “Tsimshian proper” (Maritime) and “Nass” (Interior). The divisions internal to these categories took some time to be recognized in the linguistic literature as they derive more from sociocultural contrast than unintelligibility. Dunn (1979b) was the first author noting the contrast between Southern Tsimshian/Sgüüxs and Coast Tsimshian/Sm’algyax, and Rigsby (1986, 1989) the first to explicitly divide Nisg̲a’a and Gitksan from their earlier grouping “Nass-Gitksan”.

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Tsimshianic languages is well-recognized.2 In this paper I review topics about sounds (§2), word-formation (§3), sentence-formation (§4), and finally enriched meaning and contexts (§5).

42.2 The sound level 42.2.1 Inventory The Tsimshianic languages have large consonant inventories, exemplified for the Interior branch in Table 1, and Maritime branch in Table 2.3 As is characteristic of the region, there are several sets of dorsal k-like sounds, including distinctions between front, back, and rounded (and simple velars for Maritime). This contrast is maintained across stops, fricatives, and sonorants in the Interior, but on the coast reduces to only a single fricative. There are many lateral l-sounds but no rhotic r-sounds. In stark contrast to many nearby languages, the lateral affricate (tl’, /ƛɁ/) is found only very rarely. Tab. 1: Interior Tsimshianic consonants (Rigsby 1986; Tarpent 1987)  

Labial Coronal

Stops (Plain) Stops (Glottal) Fricatives

p (pɁ)  

t tɁ

Sonorants (Plain) Sonorants (Glottal)

m mɁ

n nɁ

ʦ  ʦɁ s

Palatal

Labiovelar

Postvelar

(ƛɁ) ɬ

k kjɁ x j

w

k kwɁ xw

q  qɁ χ 

l  lɁ

j  jɁ

w  wɁ

h  Ɂ 

j

2 There is a prevalent hypothesis originating from Sapir (1921) that the Tsimshianic languages can be genetically linked to Penutian languages in Oregon and California, supported by Tarpent (1997). However, the extreme time depth of such a possible relation, as well as the many significant surface differences between Tsimshianic and the other members – enough so that modern Tsimshianic languages neither typologically nor lexically resemble other proposed Penutian languages at all – makes this strictly a hypothesis. 3 I have classified the Maritime glottal consonants /h, Ɂ/ as sonorants, departing from Sasama’s (2001) presentation that they are fricative and stop, respectively. The phonotactic basis for an analysis of the glottals as glides (Rigsby 1986; Hunt 1990; Sasama 1997) seems to hold across the family.

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Tab. 2: Maritime Tsimshianic consonants (based on Sasama 2001)  

Labial

Coronal

Palatal

Velar

Labiovelar

Postvelar

Stops (Plain) Stops (Aspirate) Stops (Glottal) Fricatives

p ph pɁ  

t th tɁ

(ƛɁ) ɬ

kj kjh kjɁ  

k  kh kɁ  

kw kwh kwɁ  

q    qɁ χ 

Sonorants (Plain) Sonorants (Glottal)

m mɁ

n nɁ

l  lɁ

j  jɁ

ɰ  ɰɁ

w  wɁ

h  Ɂ 

ʦ  ʦh ʦɁ s

For both branches, there is a contrast between plain versus glottalized sounds, which applies to stops (e.g. /t/ versus /tɁ/) as well as sonorants (e.g. /n/ versus /nɁ/). The plain stops are voiced before vowels and sonorants (e.g. daala ‘money’, aad(i)n ‘your net’) but voiceless otherwise (e.g. aat ‘net’). Plain stops at the ends of words commonly become voiced when a vowel or sonorant suffix is added. For example, /wakj/ wak ‘man’s brother’ becomes wagin ‘your brother’ when the second-singular suffix /-n/ is added (Rigsby 1986: 158, G). Aspirated stops which remain voiceless before vowels (e.g. tii, variant of focus particle dii) can also be identified in a number of words in both branches, but these are less numerous. In the Interior, Rigsby (1986) argues that aspirate stops derive exclusively from sequences of stop + fricative or /h/. For example, the aspirated p in gipaykw ‘fly’ follows from its composition: /kjip+hajkw/ → [gjlphajkw]). In the Maritime branch, Sasama (1995) treats stop aspiration as its own contrast, since examples are more widespread and difficult to decompose. All the languages contrast long and short vowels. The Interior vowel inventory is presented in Table 3, and the Maritime inventory in Table 4. To both of these can be added a reduced vowel, /ǝ/. Tab. 3: Interior Tsimshianic vowels (Rigsby 1986; Tarpent 1987; Brown et al. 2016)  

Front

Back

High Mid Low

i, iː eː

u, uː oː

a, aː

Tab. 4: Maritime Tsimshianic vowels (Sasama 2001)  

Front

Back

High Mid Low

i, iː e:

u, uː, ɯ, ɯː o, oː

a, aː

Tsimshianic 

 989

There are mid short vowels /e/ and /o/ in both branches, but several authors suggest these do not contrast with their high counterparts /i/ and /u/; short vowels are typically lowered by neighboring post-velars (Rigsby 1986; Sasama 2001). This results in only three short vowels in, for example, Gitksan: /i∼e/ versus /u∼o/ versus /a/. Unstressed short vowels typically get their quality from neighboring consonants, and their pronunciation and spelling are sometimes variable. Phonologically, most unstressed vowels can be posited as /ǝ/. Complex clusters of consonants are permitted both at the beginning and ends of words, to a greater extent in the Interior (e.g. CVCCCC in Nisg̲a’a /miɬχkws/ mihlx̲ kws ‘moxibustion’; Tarpent 1987: 82).

42.2.2 Orthographies The Interior versus Maritime language groups have different writing systems, with the Interior writing system developed by Hindle & Rigsby (1973) and the Maritime system developed by Dunn (1978). However, the distinction between the two orthographies belies the similarity of the sound system across the family. There are a few sounds that have different spellings in the two systems, such as [ɬ] (Maritime ł, Interior hl) or [ʣ∼ʤ] (Maritime dz, Interior j). Another general contrast between the two writing systems is in the propensity of the Interior system to explicitly write reduced vowels, versus the propensity of the Maritime system to drop them (e.g. Interior dim versus Maritime dm ‘will (future/prospective)’, and in the Interior system to separate some morphemes as words, versus the tendency of the Maritime system to write them together. Consider (1), which exemplifies the phrase ‘true speech’, one with near-identical pronunciation across the family. (1)  

a. b.

Interior: sim algax̲ (variant sim algyax̲ ) Maritime: sm’algyax (variant sm’algya̲ x)

With some knowledge of these differences, it is not difficult for a reader of one orthography to interpret the other.

42.2.3 Glottalization The best-studied property of Tsimshianic phonology is the contrast between plain and glottal (“hard”) sounds. The glottal character of these sounds is quite weak, often with a simple interruption of airflow, or addition of creakiness to a nearby vowel, rather than the characteristic popping sound of ejectives in some other languages. The preferred term is therefore “glottalized” rather than “ejective” (Ingram & Rigsby 1987; Rigsby & Ingram 1990; Sasama 1995; Schwan 2013; Brown et al. 2016). It is common for even those with years of experience to have difficulty distinguishing plain and glottal sounds in running speech.

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The glottal closure of these sounds is not always fixed to the position of the oral closure, particularly in Coast Tsimshian/Sm’algyax. That is, glottalization is on some level independent of its host sound. Sasama (1995) notes that glottalization in a final consonant may “float” backward elsewhere into a consonant cluster (2a), or into a long vowel to create an interrupted vowel (2b). (2)    

Sm’algyax (Sasama 1995: 22,25) a. /paːlqɁ/ [baːɁlɑχ] baa’la̲ x ‘ghost’ b. /tɁiːkjɁ/ [t’iɁikj] t’i’ik ‘navel’

The position of glottalization for stops usually depends on the position of stress, while the position of glottalization for sonorants is fixed. Stops are postglottalized ([TɁ]) in word-initial position and before stress, but are elsewhere pre-glottalized ([ɁT]), as in (3a).4 Sonorants are always pre-glottalized ([ɁR]), as in (3b). These can be very hard to hear at the beginning of a word (Lyon 2008). (3)    

Gitksan (Rigsby 1986: 142; author’s fieldnotes: BS) a. /ʦɁakjɁ/ [ʦ’εɁkj] ts’ak’ ‘dish’ Ɂ Ɂ b. /n uːm / [ɁnuːɁm] ’nuu’m ‘us (1pl)’

This two-part realization of glottal sounds, as a distinct glottal closure plus oral segment, extends to glottalized glides and the glottal stop. These are realized as sequences of a glottal stop and vowel sound ([ɁV]), sometimes as an “echo” or “interrupted” vowel. Examples are in (4). (4)    

Gitksan (author’s fieldnotes: BS) a. /qǝnaːwɁ/ [gɑna:ʔu] g̲anaa’w ‘frog’ b. /kjaɁ/ [gjaɁa] ga’a ‘see’

In some varieties and in fast speech, the post-glottal sonorant or vowel can be cut short or “swallowed” until it is voiceless, and becomes very difficult to hear. In sum, the plain/ glottal contrast is phonetically subtle and difficult to perceive, especially at the beginnings or ends of words. However, the contrast is also extremely important, as it minimally distinguishes many pairs of words.

4 This is reflected in the variable position of the apostrophe in the Maritime orthography: t’ or ’t as needed. In contrast, the Interior orthography treats t’ (or t̓) as a fixed letter.

Tsimshianic 

 991

42.3 The word level 42.3.1 Categories The Tsimshianic languages clearly distinguish nouns and verbs, and perhaps also adjectives. There are also modifiers for both nouns and verbs, initial functional particles, and some functional or discourse-related clitics which attach either to the first word or to the end of the sentence. Nouns and verbs can both be used bare as the main predicate (action, event, or state) of a clause. They can also both be used as arguments (subjects and objects). The examples in (5) demonstrate how nouns and verbs can be flexibly reversed (the verb ’witxw ‘arrive’ becomes ’witxwit ‘the one who arrived’ in (5b)). (5)                

Gitksan (Davis et al. 2014: 197) a. ’Witxwhl hanak̲ ’ast.   ’witxw=hl hanak̲’=ist   arrive=cn woman=affrm   ‘The woman arrived.’ b. Hanak̲ ’hl ’witxwidist   hanak̲’=hl ’witxw-it=ist   woman=cn arrive-sx=affrm   ‘The one who arrived is a woman.’

The division between verbs and adjectives is less clear (cf. Stebbins 1996; Forbes 2012). Nouns and verbs/adjectives are both able to take agreement suffixes: for nouns these mark possessors, and for verbs they mark subjects and objects. The next most notable category is the modifying proclitics. There are pre-verbs and pre-nouns, illustrated in (6). (6)        

Nisg̲a’a (Tarpent 1987: 27) Luut’aa ts’im wilp. luu=t’aa ts’im wilp in=sit in house ‘S/he stayed in the house.’

The proclitics typically provide information about location, direction, or manner, as luu and ts’im, both meaning ‘in’, jointly do in (6). For preverbs, there are also concepts such as ‘try to’ or ‘want to’. For prenouns there are some adjectival concepts like ‘old’, ‘new’, ‘small’, ‘big’, and also focus markers (Stebbins 1996). Some examples from the Coast Tsimshian/Sm’algyax dictionary are given in (7).

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Sm’algyax (Ts’msyen Sm’algyax Authority 2017) a. Preverbs: tgi ‘down’, ’yag̲a ‘down along plane/ground’, gisi ‘downstream’, hagwil ‘slowly’, k̲ ’amgayt ‘at first’, si’ił ‘try to’ b. Prenouns: lax ‘on’, t’m ‘on surface’, sta ‘one side, half’, k’aba ‘small (pl)’, su ‘new’, ksa ‘only’

In general, the structure of nouns and verbs/adjectives is as given in (8); an example with many of these slots is given in (9), with the root bolded. (8)

(proclitics=)derivation–plural–ROOT–valence–agreement(=enclitics)

(9)        

Gitksan (Rigsby 1986: 85) hagukwsgalt’amdinsxw ha-gukws-tk̲’al-t’am-din-sxw ins-self-against-mark-caus-antip ‘camera’

Proclitics appear outside derivational morphemes to modify the outer category, as well as inside to modify the inner category, as is the case in (9), an example which has lexicalized. Proclitics are almost always outside of plural marking and reduplication.

42.3.2 Complex words and stress The Tsimshianic languages are between analytic and polysynthetic: sentences are usually constructed of multiple complex words rather than a single long word. The Maritime languages have near-identical morphological structure, but more elements (modifiers and pronouns) are able to attach onto the main predicate, forming a single word. This type of development has likely been helped along by the sparseness of concrete cues as to where words end. Unlike in languages where the stressed (emphasized, or loudest) syllable falls predictably near the beginning or end of a word, in Tsimshianic it is almost always the root (Shaw 1993; Forbes 2015). Here, I mark stress with an accent. There are often both periphrastic (multi-word) and synthetic (single-word) ways of saying something. Some common events like ‘making’, ‘going to’, and ‘eating/drinking’ can be expressed either with transitive verbs that take an object, or with prefixes that attach to or incorporate an object to create an intransitive verb. Example (10a) illustrates the transitive option, and (10b) the intransitive, incorporated option.

Tsimshianic 

(10)                      

Gitksan (author’s fieldnotes: VG) a. Neediit anook̲ s nox̲ o’y nim   nee=dii=t anóok̲-t=t nóx̲-’y n=dim   neg=foc=3 allow-3=pn mother-1sg 1sg=prosp   keek.         cake         cake         ‘My mother does not allow me to eat cake.’ b. Neediit anook̲ s nox̲ o’y dim   nee=dii=t anóok̲-t=t nóx̲-’y dim   neg=foc=3 allow-3=pn mother-1sg prosp   ‘My mother does not allow me to eat cake.’

 993

guphl gúp-t=hl eat-3=cn       x̲ keegi’y x̲-cake-’y eat-cake-1sg

Compounding and incorporation occur with both nouns and verbs. Some examples of complex compounded forms are given from Coast Tsimshian/Sm’algyax in (11), and Nisg̲a’a in (12) for comparison. (11)                

Sm’algyax (Sasama 2001: 75) a. hagalksagosmhagwilhuu   ha-galksi-gòs-m+hagwilhúu   ins-through-jump-attr+rope   ‘skipping rope’ b. K̲ ’aa’lgmg̲ant’miisi’nu.   k̲’áa’lk-m+g̲an-t’mìis=’nu   steal-attr+means-write=1sg   ‘I stole a pencil.’

(12)                

Nisg̲a’a (Tarpent 1987: 558,792) a. hayala’am-hlgimat   ha-yàl-a’a-m+hlgimát   ins-turn-attr+egg   ‘eggbeater’ b. Silakw’a’am-am’ugit   si-làkw-a’a-m+am’úgit   caus-burn-detr-attr+clothes   ‘I burned some old clothes.’

        ’nii’y ’níi’y 1sg

Where there are two roots in a word, as in the examples from (11) and (12), both receive stress. Stress can fall on any given syllable, from the first through the last, depending on where the root is. Knowledge of word structure crucially informs pronunciation, and vice versa; the stressed root in an unknown word is often a clue to its meaning or etymology.

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42.3.3 Clitics and word boundaries The fact that stress marks roots, rather than word edges, can make it hard to determine where exactly word edges are, or to differentiate a reduced word from an affix. For example, prenouns and preverbs are sometimes written together with their host noun or verb, and sometimes separately. But there are also many other elements in Tsimshianic which raise questions about word boundaries. I will here discuss some additional clitics (sub-word elements which “lean” onto full words for support, and are often written together) which are found across Tsimshianic (see also Stebbins 2003; Mulder & Sellers 2010). The first case is clitics associated with nouns. The status of a noun as common or proper is signaled by a clitic which comes before the noun, but attaches to the preceding word, as illustrated in (13). (13)                

Nisg̲a’a (Tarpent 1987: 211–2) a. Yukwt gibas Maryhl hlgiikwt.   yukw=t giba-t[=t Mary][=hl hlgiikw-t]   ipfv=3 wait[=pn Mary][=cn sister-3]   ‘Mary is waiting for her sister.’ b. Yukwt gibahl hanak̲ ’ t  Lucy.   yukw=t giba-t[=hl hanak̲’] [t Lucy]   ipfv=3 wait=[cn woman] [pn Lucy]   ‘The woman is waiting for Lucy.’

This means that the syntactic boundaries of the noun phrase are at odds with the prosodic boundaries of words. The second case is a group of pronoun clitics which appear before the main predicate or verb of the sentence and its preverbs. While most clitics in languages of the world consistently “lean” in one direction, in the Tsimshianic languages, these pronoun clitics vary in what direction they lean. Rather than attach to the end of a word (“enclitic”) or front of a word (“proclitic”), they can be considered “flexiclitics” (Mulder & Sellers 2010). Some examples of this flexibility, including both the direction they lean and the prosodic host word they choose, are given in (14) with the first person marker n ‘I, me’. In (14a) it leans on the front side of the conjunction ii ‘and’, in (14b) the back side, and in (14c) it leans on the predicate. Note that these sentences are drawn from one narrative with a single speaker. (14)        

Gitksan (Forbes 2018: 55) a. Nii xhlii guut…   n=ii xhlii guu-t   1=and all.apart take-3   ‘And I took it apart…’

Tsimshianic 

               

b.       c.      

Iin yatshl pole loot… ii=n yats-t=hl pole loo-t and=1 hit-3=cn pole obl-3 ‘And I hit the pole with it…’ Ii na’wahl anhahla’lst goohl Stockholm ii n=’wa-t=hl an-hahla’lst g̲oo=hl Stockholm and 1=find=cn nmlz-work loc=cn Stockholm ‘And I found work in Stockholm, that’s what they call it.’

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sawatdiit. si-wa-t-diit caus-name-T-3pl

In the first case from (13), the noun clitics attach in a consistent way, but always to a different word than the one they are associated with. In the second case in (14), the pronoun clitic is free to associate with a host word in different ways. These issues about what constitutes a word, how words can be flexibly constructed, and mismatches between words and syntactic constituents, raise both theoretical linguistic questions and practical questions about writing. For example, the first case is something that can be easily provided with a written standard, while the second case is something that most likely should not be standardized at all, but taught as something that explicitly varies.

42.3.4 Plural marking and reduplication Pluralization is a major morphological process in Tsimshianic, and it has been well studied (Rigsby 1986; Tarpent 1983; Sasama 1995). Both nouns and verbs/adjectives undergo pluralization, and there are a number of morphological strategies for this transformation. Some examples are given in (15). (15)          

Sm’algyax (Sasama 1995) a. hap ‘lid’ → haphap ‘lids’ b. xbiis ‘box’ → g̲axbiis ‘boxes’ c. gyaps ‘be high’ → laps ‘be high (of many things)’ d. hadiks ‘swim’ → laheediks ‘(many) swim’ e. baa ‘run’ → k̲’oł ‘(many) run’

Reduplication Prefixation Mutation Prefix + Umlaut Suppletion

There is no easy way to predict how to form a plural; these typically have to be learned on a case-by-case basis. The precise rules of pluralization and the most common or default strategies for doing so differ across the family (e.g., CVC reduplication in Gitksan, but CVk reduplication in Coast Tsimshian/Sm’algyax; Brown 2008: 153) or even between speakers. Finally, there are many words which do not have plurals; for example, animals are usually invariant. For verbs, pluralization typically indicates that the object is plural, as in (16a). If there is no object, then it means the subject is plural, as in (16b).

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Gitksan (Hunt 1993: 152) a. ’Nii t’ahldi’yhl lakw lax̲ anlakw.   ’nii t’ahl-t-i-’y=hl lakw lax̲ an-lakw   on put.pl-T-tr-1sg=cn fuel on nmlz-fire   ‘I put (more than one piece of) wood on the fire.’ b. Walg̲a jixts’iikwhl ha’aks dipun.   walg̲a jix∼ts’iikw-t=hl ha-aks dip=xwin   all pl∼leak ins-water assoc=dem.prox   ‘All these pails leak.’

As both nouns and verbs can be pluralized, it is possible (even common) for plurality to be marked in multiple places in the sentence. It must be marked at least once, but need not always be marked everywhere. Sasama (2001) and Brown (2008) both report a scale in the obligatoriness of plural marking: words with suppletive or irregular plural forms often require pluralization, but words that have regular reduplicative plurals can often appear in the singular (so long as plurality is indicated somewhere else). Reduplication has several other somewhat related uses. CVC reduplication can mark iterative or repetitive actions, as in (17);5 CV reduplication can be used to mark extended or durative action, as in (18). (17)        

Sm’algyax (Sasama 1995: 63) Łaxłaxsa duusa ha’lit’aa. łax∼łaxs-t=a duus=a ha-’li-t’aa pl∼scratch-3=cn cat=cn ins-on-sit ‘The cat is scratching the chair.’

(18)        

Nisg̲a’a (Tarpent 1987: 218) Bibax̲ t, k’iit ga’ahl smax. bi∼bax̲-t k’ii=t ga’a-t=hl smax dur∼run-3 and=3 see-3=cn bear ‘While (s/he was) running, s/he saw a bear.’

Finally, names are exempt from this plural-formation system, but do have a special plural marker (dip G/N; dp CT/ST). This plural marker marks groups including the named person, for example dip/dp Barbara ‘Barbara and them’ (Tarpent 1981; Forbes 2013). This group marker can be used with all proper nouns (see §4.4 for details on proper/ common nouns).

5 Sasama (1995: 64) also notes it can provide emphasis to a statement in Coast Tsimshian/Sm’algyax.

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42.4 Constructing sentences 42.4.1 Word order The most basic word order in Tsimshianic is VSO: Verb-Subject-Object. More accurately, Tsimshianic has Predicate-Subject-Object order, where ‘predicate’ refers to the main action or state of the sentence, which need not be a verb. This word order is illustrated in (19). Various grammatical particles come before the predicate niist ‘see’, while arguments like subjects and objects follow it. (19)        

Sgüüxs (Dunn 1990: 119) Ła yagwit si’ki niisdi ła yagwi=t si’ki niist-t=i incep ipfv=3 maintain see-3=cn ‘The bear is staring at the fish.’

oli ol=i bear=cn

hoan. hoan fish

VOS order is also used in the Maritime languages and Nisg̲a’a when the object of the sentence is ‘you’ or ‘me’ (Jelinek 1986; Forbes 2018).6 This is shown in (20). (20)        

Nisg̲a’a (Jelinek 1986: 9) Hlimoomit ’nii’y t  hlimoom-i-t ’nii’y t  help-tr-3 1sg pn ‘Ann helped me.’

Ann. Ann Ann

Other word orders are possible (indeed, common) when emphasizing a certain element, as discussed in more detail in §5.2. A questioned or emphasized subject will be fronted before the predicate in surface SVO order. A questioned or emphasized object will be fronted before the predicate in surface OVS order. The Tsimshianic languages generally show ‘head-initial’ properties: verb-object order, preposition-noun order, and tense and aspect elements preceding the verb. There are some exceptions to this however, such as typical adjective-noun order and some sentence-final particles.

42.4.2 Clause types The Tsimshianic languages have two different kinds of clauses (sentences, or sentence-like units), in which the marking for subject and object proceeds differently. I refer

6 Gitksan has begun to diverge from the other languages, with VOS order becoming less and less common; these contexts now almost exclusively use VSO order (Rigsby 1986).

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to the two types of clauses as independent versus dependent, following Rigsby (1986).7 The choice of whether a given clause is independent or dependent is generally based on whether certain grammatical elements come before the verb: dependent clauses appear in the presence of elements listed in Table 5 – they are “dependent” on these elements. Tab. 5: Some dependent clause markers across Tsimshianic Maritime (CT/ST)

Interior (N/G)

Gloss

ada ał, aka yakw (yagwa) ła wil dzi

k’ii, ii nii, nee yukw hlaa wil, win ji

‘and’ ‘not, neg’ ‘-ing, ipfv/prog’ ‘about to, just now, incep’ ‘that, comp’ ‘if, irr’

Independent clauses are typically main clauses which lack all of these markers. Some other preverbal elements, such as dm/dim ‘prosp’ and na(h) ‘pst/pfv’ (Maritime only), do not affect the clause type; they are used in both independent and dependent clauses. The clause type difference results in two distinct patterns for using pronouns and verbal agreement. A contrast can be seen in the pronoun used for an independent clause like (21a), versus a dependent clause like (21b). (21)                

Sm’algyax (Anderson & Ignace 2008: 134) a. Dm ’yag̲abaa’nu.   dm ’yag̲a-baa=’nu   prosp down-run=1sg   ‘I will run down.’ b. Yagwa ’yag̲abaayu.   yagwa ’yag̲a-baa-u   ipfv down-run-1sg   ‘I’m running down.’

Though essentially the same clause type division is present in all of Tsimshianic, the two different branches have developed different variations on the patterns in each clause type. The Interior languages have an elaborated system in dependent clauses, and retain simple independent clauses (Hunt 1993; Forbes 2017, 2018; Davis 2018). The Maritime languages have the reverse: a more elaborate system in independent clauses, and a simple system in dependent clauses (Mulder 1994; Anderson & Ignace 2008; Peterson

7 In the linguistic literature, the clause types have been variously called “indicative/subjunctive” (Boas 1911), “independent/dependent” (Rigsby 1986), “predicate-focused/normal” (Tarpent 1987), and descriptively as “nah-dm/yagwa-ła” clauses (for Coast Tsimshian/Sm’algyax in Anderson & Ignace 2008).

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2017; Forbes 2018; Davis 2018). In the rest of this section I detail only the simple versions of the clause types.

42.4.3 Pronouns and agreement Important to understanding Tsimshianic pronouns and agreement is understanding the concept of transivity. Intransitive predicates have only one argument involved in the event: a subject. Transitive predicates have two arguments participating in the event: a subject and an object. The Tsimshianic languages are ergative, meaning that the subjects of transitive predicates (transitive subjects), are always expressed in a unique way. Intransitive subjects and objects are grouped together, separately from transitive subjects. This ergative pattern is used in both types of clauses, but with different sets of pronouns. In independent clauses, the subject of the intransitive clause in (22a) and the objects in (22b,c) are expressed with pronouns. The transitive subjects in (22b,c) are expressed with a suffix on the predicate. There is sometimes a vowel present to support this agreement suffix (Hunt 1993). (22)                      

Independent clauses — Gitksan (Forbes 2018) a. Bax̲ ’nii’y.     run 1sg     ‘I ran.’ Intransitive b. Iileni’y (’nit).     hilen-i-’y (’nit).     chase-tr-1sg (3sg)     ‘I chased him/her.’ Transitive c. Iilenit ’nii’y.     hilen-i-t ’nii’y.     chase-tr-3sg 1sg     ‘S/he chased me.’ Transitive

In dependent clauses, such as the negative clauses in (23), the subject of the intransitive clause in (23a) and the objects in (23b,c) are expressed with the suffix, this time usually without a supporting vowel. The transitive subjects in (23b,c) are now expressed with the pre-predicate clitic that appears on the negation marker, or whatever other initial marker has been used. (23)        

Dependent clauses — Gitksan (Forbes 2018) a. Needii bax̲ a’y.     nee=dii bax̲-’y     neg=foc run-1sg   Intransitive   ‘I didn’t run.’

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b.       c.      

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Neediin iilent. nee=dii=n hilen-t neg=foc=1 chase-3 ‘I didn’t chase him/her.’ Neediit iileni’y. nee=dii=t hilen-’y neg=foc=3 chase-1sg ‘S/he didn’t chase me.’

      Transitive       Transitive

Agreement and pronouns are in complementary distribution (Davis 2018). That is, pronouns never co-occur with other agreement markers, even for emphasis (unlike some pro-drop languages). Third-person pronouns can be dropped if the referent is clear from context; for example it is possible in (22b).8 First and second person pronouns typically cannot be dropped. This agreement pattern has been called ergative “agreement reversal” (Baerman 2007; Forbes 2018; Davis 2018). The basic idea is that the ergative pattern remains ­consistent, but that agreement suffixes have a different role in this pattern for each clause type. The pattern is summarized in Table 6. Where language learning is concerned, mastery of how to express different types of subjects and objects in both clause types, as well as knowing where to use them, is a crucial aspect of fluency. The “independent” patterns are most typical of short remarks, conversation, out of the blue statements, and general emphasis, while the “dependent” pattern is predominant in extended speech where sentences tend to be linked together in a stream of thought, as well as negative sentences, and most sentences using a special aspect or mood. Learners often find the full pronouns and agreement suffixes most salient, and have a harder time with the preverbal agreement markers, which appear in fewer contexts.9 Tab. 6: “Pivoting ergative” subject/object marking in Tsimshianic clause types (simplified)  

Independent

Dependent

Transitive Subject

suffix

preverbal clitic

Intransitive Subject Direct Object

pronoun pronoun

suffix suffix

8 In the Interior languages where there is a third person singular/plural contrast, only the singular pronouns may be entirely dropped (Forbes 2021). 9 In my own fieldwork on Gitksan, I have found that native speakers are often not aware that they have produced the preverbal markers in a sentence. This contrasts drastically with their awareness of the suffixes and full pronouns, which they often voluntarily point out and translate. The preverbal elements seem to be below the level of most speakers’ conscious awareness, making them much more challenging to learn or teach on the fly, without dedicated grammatical study.

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42.4.4 Full nouns Nouns in the Tsimshianic languages come in two classes: common nouns, and proper nouns.10 The group of proper nouns includes personal names (e.g. ‘Thelma’ or in-language names and titles), human-referring pronouns (e.g. ‘him/her’), and kinship terms referring to the parent generation and higher (e.g. ‘mother’, ‘grandmother’).11 Place names are treated as common nouns. This class division is a way of linguistically marking the cultural importance of personal names, including hereditary names and titles. In general, the two different classes are signaled by a clitic that attaches to the preceding word. In the Tsimshianic literature, these are called “connectives” (Boas 1911). For common nouns, this clitic is =hl in Nisg̲a’a and Gitksan, =a in Coast Tsimshian/Sm’algyax, and =i in Southern Tsimshian/Sgüüxs; examples are given in (24a) and (25a).12 Proper nouns are a bit more complex; the Tsimshianic languages mark proper nouns with an article t or s, depending on the position and function of the noun in the sentence. Examples of t are shown in (24b) and (25b). (24)            

Nisg̲a’a (Tarpent 1987: 484) a. Limxhl hanak̲ ’.   sing=cn woman   ‘The woman sang.’ b. Limx t  Mary.   sing pn Mary   ‘Mary sang.’

(25)            

Sm’algyax (Sasama 2001: 92,8) a. Mmoo’mxa ’yuuta.   smile=cn man   ‘The man is smiling.’ b. Miilgit Kayla.   dance=pn Kayla   ‘Kayla is dancing.’

The complexity of the system arises due to the interaction of these connective clitics (which attach not to the noun itself but to the prior word) with suffixes on the verb. In (24) and (25), there is no verbal suffix. However, in most other sentence types (transi10 In some work (e.g. Tarpent 1987) proper nouns are referred to instead as ‘determinate’ nouns, to bring explicit attention to the differences between the concept in Tsimshianic and the concept in English and other languages. 11 In Interior Tsimshianic, the demonstratives (e.g. G tun, =sun, dipun ‘this, these’) are also proper nouns. The Maritime demonstratives (e.g. CT gwa’a ‘this, these’) are common nouns. 12 The Maritime languages use an article =ł in irrealis and negative sentences, cognate to the Interior (Mulder 1994: 89). The vocalic connectives =a/i are typically deleted if attached to a sonorant (Anderson & Ignace 2008).

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tives, or dependent clauses, as discussed in §4.2) there is agreement on the verb, and a noun connective is able to attach directly to the agreement suffix. When predicate agreement is with the same noun that immediately follows, the noun’s connective effectively “hides” the agreement suffix. If agreement is not with the immediately following noun, then both morphemes are visible (Davis 2018). In (26), I show how this works by demonstrating what happens when the subject is a pronoun versus a full noun. In (26a), the transitive subject is a pronoun, and it appears as a suffix -t/d on the verb. After this is the object, =a hoon ‘fish’. The object connective =a remains separate from the subject agreement suffix. In (26b), we now have a common noun subject, =a haas ‘the/a dog’; otherwise the sentence remains the same. However, here there is no visible agreement suffix. The expected -t/d which would refer to the subject is completely hidden by the connective =a. Finally, in (26c), we see the same thing with a proper noun subject, =s Wes ‘Wes’. Again, the agreement suffix is hidden and only the connective remains. There is some evidence of this change: the proper noun connective becomes =s when it is hiding the agreement marker, rather than =t as it would be otherwise. (26)                            

a.

  b.         c.        

Sm’algyax (Davis 2018: 499) Dm gabida hoon. dm gab-i-t[=a hoon] prosp eat-tr-3i[=cn fish]k ‘She/he/it they will eat the/a fish.’ Sm’algyax (Davis 2018: 499) Dm gaba haasa hoon. dm gab-i-t[=a haas][=a hoon] prosp eat-tr-3i[=cn dog]i[=cn fish]k ‘The/a dog will eat the/a fish.’  Sm’algyax (Anderson & Ignace 2008: 101) Nah gabas Wesa hoon. na gap-i-t[=t Wes][=a hoon] pfv eat-tr-3i[=pn Wes]i[=cn fish]k ‘Wes ate the fish.’ 

(N: gibithl, G: gubithl)

(N: gibihl, G: gubihl)

(N: gibis, G: gubis)

This generalization about hiding agreement, and when to use the t versus s connective, has only crystallized in recent years (Hunt 1993; Davis & Forbes 2015; Davis 2018). The generalization holds across both Maritime and Interior Tsimshianic. Earlier descriptions typically treat the connectives and agreement separately, which led to sometimes-inconsistent descriptions that were exceedingly difficult to internalize. Pedagogical resources typically go through the many possible styles of sentence one by one, without being able to refer to an overall rule (Anderson & Ignace 2008). While it is imperative that pedagogical resources present examples of each construction for learners to review, hopefully the inclusion of the recent generalization in future materials can make the learning process much easier. Rather than memorizing agreement and connectives as totally

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separate systems, learning them as related patterns may reduce the overall learning burden. In the end, knowledge of one pattern should reinforce knowledge of the other, as is the case for fluent speakers.

42.5 Elaborating on sentences 42.5.1 Situating sentences in time and space While the previous section provides a walkthrough of the most basic essentials of a grammatical sentence (VSO order, agreement, noun connectives), there are many other components that provide necessary aspects of meaning. These elements come on the edges of the VSO sentence almost without exception, either before the predicate or after the subject and object. The primary tool for conveying geography, motion, and spatial perspective is the preverb system. Preverbs note directions as well as relative locations like ‘upstream’. In addition, modifying phrases can be added after the VSO elements, conveying full concepts like ‘on the table’ or ‘in Terrace’. The contrast between two ways to convey ‘outside’ is illustrated by the following two examples: (27a) uses a preverb describing movement out of an enclosed space, while (27b) uses a phrase describing where the entire event takes place. (27)                

Nisg̲a’a (Tarpent 1986: 225,34) a. Ksisdili’y t  niye’e’y.   ksi-sdil-i-y t  niye’e-’y   out-accompany-tr-1sg pn grandfather-1sg   ‘I went outside with my grandfather.’ b. Lukw’il ts’axwhl ’mukws gyalk̲ .   lukw’il ts’axw=hl ’mukws gyalk̲   very impressive=cn storm outside   ‘There is a bad snowstorm outside.’

There are also pre-VSO and post-VSO markers of time. Tsimshianic tense comes before the predicate, and contrasts future versus non-future. An sentence with no explicit markers can be interpreted as either present or past, as in (28), but anything with future-oriented temporal perspective requires the pre-predicate marker dim/dm, as in (29) (Jóhannsdóttir & Matthewson 2007; Matthewson 2012).13

13 The Maritime languages are commonly described as having a past tense marker, na(h), but examples like (28) suggest it is not mandatory for a past-tense interpretation. Sasama (2001) suggests it is instead perfect(ive) aspect, and I list it as such here.

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(28)        

Sm’algyax (Ts’msyen Sm’algyax Authority 2017: gina̲ ts’ii’ka̲ ) Ginats’ii’ka na xsooyu. gina-ts’ii’k=a na xsoo-u leave.behind-dry.up=cn poss canoe-1sg ‘My canoe dried up (when the tide fell).’

(29)      

Sm’algyax (Anderson & Ignace 2008: 335) Dm sigyootga’nm dzida dm si-gyoo-tk=’nm dzi-da prosp caus-travel-intr=1pl irr-spt ‘We will set out in the morning to fish.’

g̲anłaak g̲anłaak morning

dm dm prosp

sihoonm. si-hoon-m caus-fish-1pl

Other means of elaborating on the time and situation of an event or action are conveyed by aspect markers that come before the predicate. Aspect markers signal perspective-related properties such as whether the event is ongoing (imperfective or progressive: yukw G/N; yakw CT/ST), has finished (perfective: hlis G/N; na CT/ST?), or is just starting or about to start (inceptive: hlaa G/N; ła CT/ST). Most of these are dependent markers, described in §4.2 (Jóhannsdóttir 2006). Phrasal descriptors of time, like dzida g̲anłaak ‘when it’s morning’ from (29), follow the subject and object.

42.5.2 Questions, answers, and emphasis Few additional tools are needed to form yes/no questions; typically, the addition of a question clitic is sufficient to turn a sentence into a question. In the Interior, the clitic =aa is sentence-final, as in (30); in Maritime languages, the clitic =i is placed after the first word, as in (31) (from Sasama 2001: 84, it appears after a fronted element, if there is one, otherwise the verb). (30)        

Nisg̲a’a (Tarpent 1987: 363) Nii mi dim x̲ dayi’ma? nii mi dim x̲dax-’m=aa neg 2sg prosp eat.with-1pl=ynq ‘Would you (like to) eat with us?’

(31)        

Sm’algyax (Sasama 2001: 84) Hooynił ha’lit’aa hoy-i-n=i=ł ha-’li-t’aa use-tr-2sg=ynq=cn ins-on-sit ‘Are you using this chair?’

gwa’a? gwa’a this

It is common for yes/no questions to be politely framed as negative questions, as in the Nisg̲a’a example in (30). A question ‘Did you not see it?’ is semantically equivalent to ‘Did you see it?’, and is often construed as more polite.

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There are several different ways to construct a sentence when asking or answering a content question. These strategies are used when providing an answer to a question, or when otherwise placing emphasis on some element of the sentence due to its importance in context.14 The emphasized phrase moves from its original position in the VSO sentence to initial position, via a process of fronting.15 This is illustrated in the Gitksan examples in (32a)–(32d), which involve focused information, and can be used as question answers. Note also that the sentence from which the fronted element has moved takes a specific form or uses a specific marker, depending on what is being asked about. These special markers are bolded.16 (32)                                

Gitksan (Rigsby 1986: 282,288,285,294) a. ’Nii’yhl bahat.   ’nii’y=hl bax̲-it   1sg=cn run-sx   ‘I’M the one who ran.’ Intrans. subject b. Anaaxhl gubi’y.     anaax=hl gup-i-’y     bread=cn eat-tr-1sg     ‘It was BREAD that I ate.’Object c. Sarah an(t) hlimoo’y.     Sarak an=t hlimoo-’y     Sarah ax=3 help-1sg     ‘SARAH is the one who helped me.’ Trans. subject d. ’Nithl wil ’nii ’masi’y lax̲ Gisbayakws.     ’nit=hl wil ’nii ’mas-’y lax̲ gitsbayakws     3sg=cn comp on grow-1sg on Kispiox     ‘It was THERE that I grew up, in Kispiox.’Oblique/Location

These strategies sometimes involve a suffix on the predicate (-it when fronting an intransitive subject) and sometimes a particle before the predicate (for transitive subjects and locations). Fronting constructions about sentential modifiers like locations (where), times (when), reasons (why), manners (how), and choice (which) each use their own specific particles. In all cases, the agreement suffix on the predicate marks something which has not moved, rather than the fronted element (Forbes 2018). This detailed system has been described further elsewhere (e.g. for Interior Tsimshianic by Rigsby 1986; Tarpent 14 The exact same constructions are also used when forming relative clauses which modify nouns, such as in ‘the house that I bought’, ‘the place where I saw you’. 15 An issue of theoretical relevance is whether these A’-fronting constructions arise through a process of movement, or whether the question words are actually predicates, as discussed in work on Salish and Wakashan languages. Davis & Brown (2011), in addressing this question, suggest both strategies are possible in Gitksan. 16 Note that in the Maritime languages, content question constructions are usually accompanied by a question particle =yu/=du.

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 Clarissa Forbes

1987; Davis & Brown 2011; Brown 2016; Forbes to appear; and for Maritime Tsimshianic by Dunn 1979a; Sasama 2001; Anderson & Ignace 2008).

42.6 Conclusion This chapter has presented an overview of the shared grammatical properies of the four Tsimshianic languages, discussing sounds, words, and sentence-level constructions, based on the history of linguistic research in the last fifty years. Issues of long-term investigation have included glottalization, which demands attention even from experienced learners and linguists; plurality, which is best learnt on an item-by-item basis; and the complex ergative system of agreement and pronouns across two clause types. This chapter has also presented discussion on mismatches in the correspondence between syntactic phrases and words, the use of preverbs and prenouns, and the detailed Tsimshianic system of fronting under emphasis and in questions. I conclude with a brief review of the state of revitalization. There have been several Master-Apprentice pairs in the last ten years, with the apprentices moving on to active involvement and leadership in language-based programming and policymaking in their communities, and many continuing to use the language publicly and regularly. Today, there are several ongoing in-community documentation projects, and most K-12 schools across native Tsimshianic-speaking territory have small but regular amounts of indigenous language programming. School districts 52 (Prince Rupert) and 92 (Nisg̲a’a) have centralized language curricula. One Gitxsan community school offers K-3 half-day immersion, and a pre-K Gitksan language nest was established in 2019. Some postsecondary language courses are offered by the University of Northern BC and Coast Mountain College. In addition, indigenous language technologies are the focus of research projects at Simon Fraser University and the University of British Columbia. These projects aim to produce online and mobile pedagogical resources (such as community-oriented grammars and lessons) for several Tsimshianic languages. On a final somber note, Southern Tsimshian/Sgüüxs has comparably fewer people and resources to work with to support revitalization, and is in the most critical state. However, hundreds of hours of recordings were done in Klemtu with one of the last Sgüüxs-speaking elders until the end of her life in 2013. These recordings are a valuable seed for future work. Acknowledgements: This paper would not have been possible without the knowledge that has been shared with me by Barbara Sennott, Vince Gogag, Hector Hill, Louise Wilson, and the many other Gitxsan elders I have worked with over the years. I also thank the UBC Gitksan Lab, and particularly Michael David Schwan, Henry Davis, Lisa Matthewson, Katie Martin, and Colin Brown, for the various ways they have strengthened my understanding, broadly, and this paper, specifically.

Tsimshianic 

 1007

Abbreviation 1 2 3 affrm antip assoc attr ax caus cn comp dem detr dur foc incep ins intr ipfv

first person second person third person affirmative antipassive associative attributive agent extraction causative common noun determiner complementizer demonstrative detransitive durative focus inceptive instrumental intransitive imperfective

irr loc neg nmlz obl pfv pl pn poss prog prosp prox pst sg spt sx T tr ynq

irrealis locative negative nominalizer oblique perfective plural proper noun determiner possessive progressive prospective proximal past singular spatiotemporal intransitive subject extraction T-morpheme transitive yes-no question

References Anderson, Margaret & Marianne Ignace. 2008. Visible grammar: Twenty user friendly grammar modules for Sm’algyax. Prince Rupert, BC: Wap Sigatgyet and School District 52. Baerman, Michael. 2007. Morphological reversals. Journal of Linguistics 43(1). 33–61. Boas, Franz. 1902. Tsimshian texts. Washington DC: Bureau of American Ethnology. Boas, Franz. 1911. Tsimshian. In Franz Boas (ed.), Handbook of American Indian languages, vol. 40 1, 283–422. Washington: Government Print Office. Brown, Colin. 2016. Extraction restrictions in Gitksan. Montreal: McGill University MA thesis. Brown, Jason. 2008. Theoretical aspects of Gitksan phonology. Vancouver: University of British Columbia dissertation. Brown, Jason, Henry Davis, Michael Schwan & Barbara Sennott. 2016. Gitksan. Journal of the International Phonetic Association 1–12. Davis, Henry. 2018. Only connect! A unified analysis of the Tsimshianic connective system. International Journal of American Linguistics 84(4). 471–511. Davis, Henry & Jason Brown. 2011. On A’-dependencies in Gitksan. In Papers for the 46th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 43–80. Vancouver, BC: UBC Working Papers in Linguistics. Davis, Henry & Clarissa Forbes. 2015. Connect four! The morphosyntax of argument marking in Tsimshianic. In Natalie Weber, Erin Guntly, Zoe Lam & Sihwei Chen (eds.), Papers for the 50th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, vol. 40, 155–185. Vancouver, BC: UBC Working Papers in Linguistics. Davis, Henry, Carrie Gillon & Lisa Matthewson. 2014. How to investigate linguistic diversity: Lessons from the Pacific Northwest. Language 90(4). e180–e226.

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Dunlop, Britt, Suzanne Gessner, Tracey Herbert & Aliana Parker. 2018. Report on the status of BC First Nations languages. Report of the First People’s Cultural Council. Retrieved March 24, 2019. http://www.fpcc.ca/ files/PDF/FPCC-LanguageReport-180716-WEB.pdf. Dunn, John Asher. 1978. A practical dictionary of the Coast Tsimshian language (Canadian Ethnography Service paper 42). Ottawa, ON: University of Ottawa Press. Dunn, John Asher. 1979a. A reference grammar for the Coast Tsimshian language (Canadian Ethnography Service paper 55). Ottawa, ON: University of Ottawa Press. Dunn, John Asher. 1979b. Tsimshian internal relations reconsidered: Southern Tsimshian. In Barbara S. Efrat (ed.), The Victoria conference on northwestern languages, 62–82. Victoria: BC Provincial Museum. http:// www.uaf.edu/anla/item.xml?id=TS968D1979a. Dunn, John Asher. 1990. Inflection structures in Lower Tsimshianic. In Papers for the 25th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 113–124. First Peoples’ Cultural Council. 2020. FirstVoices: Gitsenimx̱, Nisg̲a’a, Sgüüx̣s, Sm'algya̱x. Various contributors. Accessed June 4, 2020. https://www.firstvoices.com/explore/FV/ sections/Data. Forbes, Clarissa. 2012. Gitxsan adjectives: evidence from nominal modification. In Papers for the 47th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 49–68. Vancouver, BC: UBC Working Papers in Linguistics. Forbes, Clarissa. 2013. Associative plurality in the Gitksan nominal domain. In Shan Luo (ed.), Proceedings of the 2013 Canadian Linguistic Association, University of Victoria Victoria, BC: Canadian Linguistic Association. https://cla-acl.ca/pdfs/actes-2013/ Forbes-2013.pdf. Forbes, Clarissa. 2015. Gitksan root stress: Modeling the path to lexical accent. In The proceedings of Workshop on Structure and Constituency in Languages of the Americas (WSCLA) 19, 79–93. Vancouver, BC: UBC Working Papers in Linguistics. Forbes, Clarissa. 2017. Persistent ergativity and split absolutive agreement in Gitksan. In Andrew Lamont & Katerina Tetzloff (eds.), Proceedings of the 47th annual meeting of the North East Linguistics Society (NELS), vol. 2, 11–24. Amherst, MA: GLSA Amherst. Forbes, Clarissa. 2018. Persistent ergativity: Agreement and splits in Tsimshianic. Toronto: University of Toronto dissertation. Forbes, Clarissa. 2021. Nominal types in Gitksan split-absolutive agreement. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 39. 1087–1128. Forbes, Clarissa. to appear. Consequences of long-distance extraction morphology in Gitksan. In Proceedings of the Workshop on Structure and Constituency in Languages of the Americas (WSCLA) 22, Vancouver, BC: UBC Working Papers in Linguistics. Hindle, Lonnie & Bruce Rigsby. 1973. A short practical dictionary of the Gitksan language. Northwest Anthropological Research Notes 7(1). 1–60. Hunt, Katharine. 1990. The status of glottalized glides in Gitksan. In Barbara M. Birch, Katharine Hunt & Vida Samiian (eds.), Proceedings of the Western Conference on Linguistics (WECOL) 1990, vol. 3, 152–161. Fresno, CA: California State University. Hunt, Katharine. 1993. Clause structure, agreement and case in Gitksan. Vancouver: University of British Columbia dissertation. Ingram, John & Bruce Rigsby. 1987. Glottalic stops in Gitksan: an acoustic analysis. In Proceedings of the 11th International Congress of Phonetic Sciences, 134–137. Jelinek, Eloise. 1986. The ergativity hypothesis and the argument hierarchy in Nisgha. In Papers for the 21st International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 7–17. Seattle, WA: University of Washington. Jensen, Vickie & J. V. Powell. 1979–1980. Learning Gitksan: Western dialect. Kitwancool, BC: Kitwancool Band. Books 1–4. Jóhannsdóttir, Kristín M. 2006. Aspect in Gitxsan. In Proceedings of the Workshop on Structure and Constituency of Languages of the Americas (WSCLA) XI, 82–94. Vancouver, BC: UBC Working Papers in Linguistics.

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Jóhannsdóttir, Kristín M. & Lisa Matthewson. 2007. Zero-marked tense: The case of Gitxsan. In Emily Elfner & Martin Walkow (eds.), Proceedings of the North East Linguistics Society (NELS) 37, 299–310. Amherst, MA: GLSA Amherst. Mathews, Arthur, Jr. & Vera Wale (eds.). 1995. Ha’niimag̲ooansxwhum algax̲hl Gitksen~Gitksan: Gitxsenimx̲~ Gitxsanimx̲ to English dictionary. Gitwangak, BC: Sim’algax̲ Working Group. Lyon, John. 2008. A perception study of glottalization in Gitksan resonants. Ms: qualifying paper, UBC. Matthewson, Lisa. 2012. On the (non-)future orientation of modals. In Ana Aguilar Guevara, Anna Chernilovskaya & Rick Nouwen (eds.), Proceedings of Sinn und Bedeutung 16, 431–446. Cambridge, MA: MIT Working Papers in Linguistics. Mother Tongues Dictionaries. 2020. Gitksan. Edited by the UBC Gitksan Research Lab. Accessed June 4, 2020. https://mothertongues.org/gitksan. Mulder, Jean. 1994. Ergativity in Coast Tsimshian (Sm’algyax): UC Berkeley dissertation. Mulder, Jean & Holly Sellers. 2010. Classifying clitics in Sm’algyax: Approaching theory from the field. In Andrea L. Berez, Jean Mulder & Daisy Rosenblum (eds.), Fieldwork and linguistic documentation in indigenous languages of the Americas (Language Documentation and Conservation Special Publication 2), 33–56. University of Hawai’i Press. http://nflrc.hawaii.edu/ldc/. Peterson, Tyler. 2017. Alignments across Tsimshianic. In Jessica Coon, Diane Massam & Lisa deMena Travis (eds.), Oxford handbook of ergativity, 1007–1034. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Powell, J.V. & Russell Stevens. 1977. Gitxsanimx: Gitksan language. Kispiox Band. Books 1–2. Rigsby, Bruce. 1986. Gitxsan grammar. Unpublished manuscript. Brisbane: University of Queensland. Rigsby, Bruce. 1989. A later view of Gitksan syntax. In Mary Key & Henry Hoenigswald (eds.), General and Amerindian ethnolinguistics: In remembrance of Stanley Newman, 245–259. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Rigsby, Bruce & John Ingram. 1990. Obstruent voicing and glottalic obstruents in Gitksan. International Journal of American Linguistics 56(2). 251–263. Sapir, Edward. 1921. A characteristic Penutian form of stem. International Journal of American Linguistics 2. 58–67. Sasama, Fumiko. 1995. Coast Tsimshian plural formation with phonological introduction. Sapporo: Hokkaido University MA thesis. Sasama, Fumiko. 1997. A report on Coast Tsimshian ‘interrupted vowels’. In Osahito Miyaoka (ed.), Languages of the North Pacific Rim, vol. 2, 47–60. Kyoto: Kyoto University. Sasama, Fumiko. 2001. A descriptive study of the Coast Tsimshian morphology. Kyoto: Kyoto University dissertation. Schwan, Michael David. 2013. An acoustic description of glottalized obstruents in Gitksan. Unpublished manuscript. Honours essay. Vancouver: University of British Columbia. Shaw, Patricia. 1993. Templatic evidence for the syllable nucleus. In Amy J. Schafer (ed.), Proceedings of the 23rd annual meeting of the North East Linguistic Society (NELS), vol. 23 2, 463–477. Amherst, MA: GLSA Amherst. https://scholarworks.umass.edu/ nels/vol23/iss2/14. Stebbins, Tonya. 1996. On the class of adjectives in Coast Tsimshian. In Papers for the 31st International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 275–281. Stebbins, Tonya. 2003. On the status of intermediate form-classes: Words, clitics, and affixes in Coast Tsimshian (Sm’algyax). Linguistic Typology 7(3). 383–415. Tarpent, Marie-Lucie. 1981. Them Fred: Factors in the evolution of a Tsimshianism. In Papers for the 16th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 397–401. Tarpent, Marie-Lucie. 1983. Morphophonemics of Nisgha plural formation: A step towards Proto-Tsimshian reconstruction. In Studies in Native American languages II, vol. 8 2, 123–214. Lawrence, KS: Kansas Working Papers in Linguistics. Tarpent, Marie-Lucie (ed.). 1986. Ha’niimag̲oo’nisgum algaxhl Nisg̲a’a [dictionary of the Nisg̲a’a language]. New Aiyansh, BC: School District 92. Tarpent, Marie-Lucie. 1987. A grammar of the Nisgha language. Victoria: University of Victoria dissertation.

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Tarpent, Marie-Lucie. 1997. Tsimshianic and Penutian: Problems, methods, results, and implications. International Journal of American Linguistics 63(1). 65–112. Ts’msyen Sm’algyax Authority. 2017. Sm’algya̲x living legacy talking dictionary. Edited by Margaret Anderson. Accessed June 4, 2020. https://www.webonary.org/smalgyax/.

Other Relevant Literature Belvin, Robert S. 1984. Nisgha syntax and the ergativity hypothesis. Vancouver: University of British Columbia MA thesis. Belvin, Robert S. 1990. Ergativity and accusativity in Nisgha syntax. In David J. Costa (ed.), Papers for the 16th Berkeley Linguistics Society, 3–18. Berkeley, CA: Berkeley Linguistics Society. Belvin, Robert S. 1997. The causation hierarchy, semantic control and eventivity in Nisgha. In Amaya Mendiko-Etxea & Myriam Uribe-Etxebarria (eds.), Theoretical issues at the morphology-syntax interface, 35–53. Bilbao: Universidad del País Vasco. Bicevskis, Katie, Henry Davis & Lisa Matthewson. 2017. Quantification in Gitksan. In Denis Paperno & Edward Keenan (eds.), Handbook of quantification in natural language: Volume II, 281–382. Dordrecht: Springer. Brown, Jason. 2007. Patterns of deglottalization in Tsimshianic. In Papers for the 42nd International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 89–100. Vancouver, BC: UBC Working Papers in Linguistics. Brown, Jason. 2010. Gitksan phonotactics. Munich: Lincom Europa. Brown, Jason. 2015. Heavy syllables in Gitksan. In Natalie Weber, Erin Guntly, Zoe Lam & Sihwei Chen (eds.), Papers for the 50th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, vol. 40, 3–13. Vancouver, BC: UBC Working Papers in Linguistics. Compton, Brian & Marie-Lucie Tarpent. 1994. Tsimshianic animal names with notes on their referents, distributions and origins. In Papers for the 29th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 79–116. Pablo, MO. Dunn, John Asher. 1970. Coast Tsimshian phonology. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico dissertation. http://www.uaf.edu/anla/item.xml?id=TS968D1970. Dunn, John Asher. 1978. Coast Tsimshian relativization. In Papers for the 13th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 334–351. Dunn, John Asher. 1986. Southern Tsimshian extrasyllabic initial stops. In Papers for the 21st International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 125–132. Seattle, WA: University of Washington. Dunn, John Asher. 1988. Oblique subjects: The Southern Tsimshian example. In Michael M. T. Henderson (ed.), 1987 Mid-America linguistics conference papers, Lawrence: University of Kansas. Dunn, John Asher. 1991. An autolexical sketch of Sgüüxs (Southern Tsimshianic) predicate adjectives and predicate nominatives. In Papers for the 26th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 81–96. Dunn, John Asher. 1993. Sgüüxs (Southern Tsimshian) chameleon vowels. In Anthony Mattina & Timothy Montler (eds.), American Indian linguistics and ethnography in honor of Laurence C. Thompson, vol. 10, 369–383. Missoula: University of Montana Occasional Papers in Linguistics. Flaherty, Virginia Carroll. 1979. Schulenberg’s Tsimshian grammar. Corvallis: Oregon State University MA thesis. Forbes, Clarissa. 2013. Coordination and number in the Gitksan nominal domain. Toronto: University of Toronto MA thesis. Forbes, Clarissa. 2017. Extraction morphosyntax and wh-agreement in Gitksan: The case for accusativity. In Andrew Alexander Monti (ed.), Proceedings of the 2017 Canadian Linguistic Association, Ryerson

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University Toronto, ON: Canadian Linguistic Association. https://cla-acl.ca/pdfs/actes-2017/Forbes_C.2 017CLAProceedingsPaper.pdf. Forbes, Clarissa. 2019a. Number, names, and animacy: Nominal classes and plural interactions in Gitksan. In Myriam Dali, Eric Mathieu & Gita Zareikar (eds.), Gender and noun classification, 203–232. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Forbes, Clarissa. 2019b. On binding and precedence in Gitksan. In Lisa Matthewson, Erin Guntly & Michael Rochemont (eds.), Wa7 xweysás i nqwal’utteníha i ucwalmícwa: He loves the people’s languages. essays in honour of Henry Davis, 111–126. Vancouver, BC: UBC Occasional Papers in Linguistics. Forbes, Clarissa, Henry Davis, Michael Schwan & the UBC Gitksan Research Laboratory. 2017. Three Gitksan texts. In Papers for the 52nd International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 47–89. Vancouver, BC: UBC Working Papers in Linguistics. Fortier, Kyra. 2016. Shifty vowels: Variation in dialectal lowering in Gitksan. Journal of the Canadian Acoustical Association 44(3). 138–139. Hoard, James E. 1978. Obstruent voicing in Gitksan: Some implications for distinctive feature theory. In Eung-Do Cook & Jonathan Kaye (eds.), Linguistic studies of Native Canada, 111–119. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. Ikegami, Yoko. 2007. Possessives, passives, and middles: External argument deletion in Gitksan. In Proceedings of the Workshop on Structure and Constituency in the Languages of the Americas 12, 72–85. Littell, Patrick, Lisa Matthewson & Tyler Peterson. 2010. On the semantics of conjectural questions. In Tyler Peterson & Uli Sauerland (eds.), Evidence from evidentials, vol. 28, 89–104. Vancouver, BC: UBC Working Papers in Linguistics. Livingston, Ellen. 1989. Conjoined arguments in Nisgha. In Papers for the 24th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 204–215. Steilacoom, WA. Matthewson, Lisa. 2013. Gitksan modals. International Journal of American Linguistics 79(3). 349–394. Matthewson, Lisa & Neda Todorović. 2019. Temporal properties of attitude complements: The SerbianGitksan connection. In Kimberly Johnson & Alexander Göbel (eds.), Proceedings of the tenth conference on the Semantics of Under-Represented Languages in the Americas (SULA), 149–163. Amherst, MA: GLSA Amherst. Mulder, Jean. 1989. The viability of the notion of subject in Coast Tsimshian. Canadian Journal of Linguistics 34(2). 129–144. Peterson, Tyler. 2010a. Epistemic modality and evidentiality in Gitksan at the semantics-pragmatics interface. Vancouver: University of British Columbia dissertation. Peterson, Tyler. 2010b. Examining the mirative and nonliteral uses of evidential. In Tyler Peterson & Uli Sauerland (eds.), Evidence from evidentials, vol. 28, 129–159. Vancouver, BC: UBC Working Papers in Linguistics. Rigsby, Bruce. 1967. Tsimshian comparative vocabularies with notes on Nass-Gitksan systematic phonology. In Papers for the 2nd International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 1–41. Rigsby, Bruce. 1970. A note on Gitksan speech-play. International Journal of American Linguistics 36(3). 212–215. Rigsby, Bruce. 1975. Nass-Gitksan: an analytic ergative syntax. International Journal of American Linguistics 41. 346–354. Rigsby, Bruce & James Kari. 1987. Gitksan and Wet’suwet’en linguistic relations. Unpublished manuscript. http://www.uaf.edu/anla/item.xml?id=CA987KR1987. Sapir, Edward. 1920. Nass River terms of relationship. American Anthropologist 22(3). 261–271. Sasama, Fumiko. 1998. On Sapir’s ‘Nass River terms of relationship’. Bulletin of the Edward Sapir Society of Japan 12. 31–47. Smith, Jane. 2004. Placing Gitxsan stories in text: Returning the feathers (guuxs mak’am mik̲ ’aax). Vancouver: University of British Columbia dissertation.

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Stebbins, Tonya. 1997. Reanalysis and the Coast Tsimshian lexicon. In Papers for the 32nd International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 340–351. Stebbins, Tonya. 2004. Polysemy, homonymy, and sense modulation in Sm’algyax. International Journal of Lexicography 17. 1–32. Tarpent, Marie-Lucie. 1983. The evolution of the Nisgha counting system: A window on cultural change. In Working papers of the Linguistics Circle, vol. 3 1, Victoria: University of Victoria. Tarpent, Marie-Lucie. 1986. Nisgha possessives. In Papers for the International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages 21, 18–34. Tarpent, Marie-Lucie. 1987. Between ergative and accusative syntax: Lessons from Nisgha/English syntactic interference. In Papers for the 22nd International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 149–172. Victoria, BC. University of Victoria. Tarpent, Marie-Lucie. 1991. The morpheme -ə- and the mysteries of Nisgha syntax. In Papers for the 26th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 317–345. Tarpent, Marie-Lucie. 1994. Tsimshianic stress assignment and the words for MEAT, BEAR. In Papers for the 29th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 243–264. Wickstrom, Ronald. 1974. A phonology of Gitksan, with emphasis on glottalization. Victoria: University of Victoria MA thesis.

T̕łat̕łaḵuł Patricia Rosborough and Daisy Rosenblum

43 Wakashan Languages

Abstract: This chapter provides a sketch of the Wakashan language family intended to serve as a resource for those engaged in community-based language reclamation. The seven languages of the Wakashan family (qʷi·qʷi·diččaq, diitiidʔaaʔtx̣, nuučaan̓uɬ, ‘Uik̓ala, Híɫzaqvḷa, X̄a’islak̓ala-X̄enaksialak̓ala, and Kwak̕wala) are spoken in the Pacific Northwest Coast from qʷi·qʷi·diččaq territory on the Olympic Peninsula extending north across Vancouver Island to Híɫzaqvḷa and X̄a’islak̓ala territories bordering Tsimshian lands. Communities throughout Wakashan territory are actively engaged in language reclamation and revitalization efforts: they report a growing population of more than 2000 active learners, with many Elder first-language speakers engaged in a range of activities related to language reclamation. Extensive written and recorded documentation and description of Wakashan languages reaches back to early contact with outsiders. The work of many community-based language researchers to interpret these materials has made portions of it useful and accessible in community language and cultural revitalization. Community-based scholars working within language and culture programs have likewise contributed many useful documentation and pedagogical materials. We highlight some of the grammatical features, research, and understandings of these languages that are of particular interest to learners, teachers, and scholars working on language reclamation and revitalization.

43.1 Where Wakashan languages are spoken; ­neighbouring languages and people The Northwest Coast is a place of great diversity of ecologies, peoples, and languages. The Nations sharing these territories have lived alongside each other for thousands of years. Wakashan territories stretch along the mountainous Northern Pacific coastline of the North American Continent, from qʷi·qʷi·diččaq (Makah) lands on the Olympic Peninsula; through diitiidʔaaʔtx̣ (Ditidaht) and nuučaan̓uɬ (Nuu-chah-nulth, Nootka) lands on the West Coast of Vancouver Island; Kwakwa̱ ka̱ ’wakw (Kwakiutl) territories on Northern Vancouver Island, opposing mainland, and islands in between; and ’Uik̓ala (Oowekyala), Híɫzaqvḷa (Heiltsuk) and X̄a’islak̓ala-X̄enaksialak̓ala (Haisla)-speaking territories farther north. Neighbouring territories of the Coast Salish-speaking people include places where Hul’q’umi’num’/Halq’eméylem/hən̓q̓əmin̓əm̓, SENĆOŦEN (Saanich), Éy7á7juuthem (Sliammon), Nəxʷsƛay̓əmúcən (Klallam), and Nuxalk (Bella Coola) are ̕ spoken. Bordering the lands of the 'Uik̓ala, Híɫzaqvḷa, and Xenaksialak̓ala /Xa’’islak̓alaspeaking peoples are three Dené territories where Tsilqot’in, Nedut’en / Witsuwit’en, https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-043

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 T̕łat̕ łaḵuł Patricia Rosborough and Daisy Rosenblum

HAISLA

XA’ISLAKALA

HEILTSUK HAILHZAQVLA

OOWEKYALA ʼUIKALA

KWAKʼWALA

NUU-CHAH-NULTH

NUUČAANUⱢ, TAATAAQSAPA

DITIDAHT DIITIIDʔAAʔTX

MAKAH

QWI·QWI·DIČČAQ

Fig. 1: Territories where Wakashan languages are spoken (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/ File:Wakashan_map.svg Noahedits, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons)

and Dakelh (Carrier) are spoken. The Tsimshianic language Sm̓algya̱ x is spoken to the north of Híɫzaqvḷa and X̄a’islak̓ala-X̄enaksialak̓ala territories. On the islands of Haida Gwaii, and in what is now Alaska, live the speakers of X̱aad Kil  / X̱aaydaa Kil. The region is characterized by an abundance of culturally-treasured foods (salmon, oolichan grease, seaweed, shellfish, berries) gathered and processed while in season, and traded throughout the year, contributing to the resilience of Nation-to-Nation trading relationships and cultural continuity despite colonial occupation. The sovereign First Nations of the Northwest Coast have long histories of working together as stewards of their culture, language, and land. Communities throughout these territories now draw on these relationships as they respond to the linked ecological and cultural challenges facing them in the 21st century. Multilingualism and multidialectalism, through trade, intermarriage, and Nationto-Nation relations, were a stable regional norm until recent devastating impacts of colonial policies (Galois 1994; McKechnie 2015; Gessner et al. 2018). Elder speakers today describe their grandparents and parents speaking many languages and dialects and understanding even more. (Henry Seaweed p.c.). Communities in this area share a respect for and understanding of cultural and linguistic diversity, mirrored in longstanding practices of protocol that involve explicit, overt, and iterative acknowledgement of mutual territorial rights and sovereignty (cf. Dangeli 2015; G̱RSD. Nicolson 2019; Seaweed p.c.). Many grammatical and cultural features of languages in the Wakashan



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family are present in nearby language families, such as Salishan (Daehnke 2019; Mithun 2007; Nichols 1992; Swadesh 1953). The Wakashan languages are inextricably linked to the places where they come from and in which they are spoken. This is known by speakers, evident in oral histories transmitted through millennia, detailed inventories of place names, and other placebased knowledges held and expressed in the grammar (e.  g. Boas 1934; M. Nicolson 2014; Windsor Wákas 2007; inter alia). Four Northern languages—Kwak̕wala, 'Uik̓ala, Híɫzaqvḷa, and X̄a’islak̓ala—are closely related, and grouped as a Northern Wakashan branch of the family (Boas 1948; Lincoln & Rath 1980). Speakers and learners hear this closeness in related sounds, vocabulary, and grammatical features. Another group of languages spoken on Vancouver Island and the Olympic peninsula, diitiidʔaaʔtx̣, qʷi·qʷi·diččaq, and the many languages identified as nuučaan̓uɬ, are also closely related in ways that are recognized by speakers and grouped by linguists in a Southern Wakashan group (cf. Sapir & Swadesh 1939; Haas 1969). We acknowledge that not all speakers see their languages as belonging to a ‘Wakashan’ category, assigned by outside researchers. Nevertheless, we hope this chapter can serve as a resource for teachers, learners, and scholars of these languages. There are strong language reclamation and revitalization efforts in all the communities which speak Wakashan languages. Some communities, such as Bella Bella and Alert Bay, have had school-based immersion learning classes and programs for children for several decades. New immersion programs, for both children and adults, are arising throughout Wakashan territories. Vigorous language and culture programs in many communities nurture healthy transmission and reclamation of language and culture. Alongside and in support of their community work, scholars from Wakashan communities have long engaged in university-based research, producing MA and PhD theses about their own languages and cultures (cf. Cranmer 2015; M. Nicolson 2005; 2014; D. Nicolson 2017; G̱. Nicolson 2019; Rosborough 2012; Rosborough, Urbanczyk, Rorick 2017; inter alia). The active landscape of contemporary language reclamation and revitalization efforts is described in three reports produced by the First Peoples’ Cultural Council (Amrhein et al. 2010; Gessner et al. 2014; Dunlop et al. 2018). Community programs, assessments, and descriptions of resources are accessible online through the First Peoples’ Language Map (https://fpcc.ca/first-peoples-map/). Many of the languages described in this chapter can be heard online through the First Voices portal (https:// www.firstvoices.com/). Wakashan languages have been the focus of extensive linguistic and ethnographic research, which has yielded extensive bibliographies. Grammatical information about specific languages with value for language teaching and learning can be found in several dissertations and other academic. The overview below describes the features we believe are most useful for teachers and learners, and points to additional resources for further inquiry. Although we recognize that it is a norm to begin a sketch with a description of the sound system, we begin in section 2 with a description of word structure (morphology), a defining aspect of Wakashan languages. We then describe how words combine into clauses sentences

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(syntax) in section 3. We discuss aspects of discourse in section 4: patterns in connected speech, how speakers combine sentences and use language in interaction. Notable aspects of how the languages sound (the phonetics and phonology) and are written (their orthographies) are discussed in section 5. In the last section, we address some technologies and tools that are emerging from and supporting community-based language reclamation efforts. Where possible, we identify and credit the speakers whose examples appear.1

43.2 Words and word-building Wakashan languages are often described as having a polysynthetic structure. This refers to the way that speakers can combine many small units of meaning (a.k.a. morphemes) within a word to paint a complete picture with detailed information about a scene—participants, location, motion, context. These word-building patterns allow speakers to be highly descriptive and specific. An Ahousaht nuučaan̓uł2 word illustrates how. (1)

Polysynthetic words, in Ahousaht nuučaan̓uł (Nakayama 2002; 07.003)3 č̓a:csnaʕa:ɬkʷačiƛ č̓a-{c}snaʕa:ɬ-kʷačiƛ water-playing.with-because.of ‘because he was playing with water’

The above word č̓a:csnaʕa:ɬkʷačiƛ ‘because he was playing with water’ corresponds to an entire phrase in English.

1 About speaker citation: we preferred sources that named and credited speakers and would enable community members to find relatives’ voices in existing documentation. We sought examples that are historically, geographically, and descriptively diverse and inclusive of the long history of research with all Wakashan language communities. In many older references created by visiting researchers, there is considerable variation in how speakers are credited. Speakers are most often identified in prefaced acknowledgements but not as authors of specific examples. In these cases, we provide the names of all identified speaker-contributors in a footnote at first citation of the source. 2 There are many writing systems in use for Wakashan languages, and multiple systems have been used to write each language. Examples are provided in the same orthography used by the original source from which an example is drawn; different examples referring to the same language may not be written in the same system, and not all examples will be written in a community-preferred orthography. 3 Nakayama worked with the late George Louie, the late Caroline Little, the late James Adams, the late Harold Little, Archie Thompson, Josephine Thompson; and as transcribers and translators, Katie Fraser, and Luuta Qaamina. Nakayama cites examples from source texts with text numbers or titles, and line number (e.  g. 07.003, N.027, FoodThief.017). See Nakayama 2001: 4 for a partial list of textual materials in the Nakayama Corpus. Additional texts published in Nakayama 2003a and 2003b.



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In many languages, vocabulary items or lexemes can be sorted into classes or parts of speech that behave distinctly and align with semantic and functional categories like NOUNS, VERBS, ADJECTIVES, and so on. In Wakashan languages, these categories are harder to determine. When Franz Boas first began to work with George Hunt at Tsax̱is, he said about Kwak̕wala: “Although the formal distinction of noun and verb is quite sharp, the great freedom with which nouns may be transformed into verbs, and verbs into nouns, makes a classification difficult. All stems seem to be neutral, neither noun nor verb; and their nominal or verbal character seems to depend solely upon the suffix with which they are used, although some suffixes are also neutral” (Boas 1911:441). Subtle patterns in several languages suggest that some roots are verb-like, some more noun-like, and others are adjective-like (cf. Jacobsen 1979d, Littell 2016), but these are not evident at a glance. Despite the abundance of attention paid to whether there are nouns and verbs in Wakashan languages, much remains to be understood about whether such categories are relevant for how speakers and learners use and think about their language as they speak. While lexical categories are fuzzy, four clear structural categories are used as basic building blocks: roots, stems, suffixes, and clitics. These four terms are defined briefly below. The term root here means the smallest possible unit of meaning that can be used as the basis for forming a word., like the Ahousaht root ča- ‘water’ above. Each language can derive many more meanings by combining one root with one or more suffixes and clitics. Some of these combinations become fused, and speakers tend to think of these fixed combinations, or stems, as a single unit of meaning. Suffixes are small morphemes that attach to the ends of roots, stems, or other suffixes. Below, the root kutḥ- ‘drumming’ combined with the instrumental suffix –y̓akʷ means a tool for drumming, that is: a drum. (2)

Building blocks, in Ahousaht nuučaan̓uł (Nakayama 2017: 611, 2005-N.027) kutḥy̓akc̓uy̓ak root-suffix-suffix-suffix kutḥ-y̓akʷ-c̓u∙-y̓akʷ drumming-instrument.for-in.a.container-instrument.for ‘drum bag’ (tool for containing a tool for drumming)

The same instrumental suffix –y̓ak added again after –c̓u ‘in.a.container’ derives another meaning: the carrying bag for the drum. As you can see from the example above, suffixes take a general meaning (i.  e., ‘drumming’), and derive further meanings in layers (i.  e., ‘drum’, and then ‘drum bag’). Not all words in Wakashan languages are complex combinations of many morphemes. Some words only contain one or two morphemes, such as the qʷi·qʷi·diččaq adverb yu∙yu ‘for.a.while’ below.

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Simple words, in qʷi·qʷi·diččaq (Davidson 2002: 99)4 dudu∙k̓ʷaƛitid yu∙yu. dudu∙k=’aƛ=(b)it=id yu∙yu sing=past=indic.1pl for.a.while ‘We sang for a while.’

The final type of building block is called a clitic. In Wakashan languages, clitics attach after suffixes and are written with an equals sign (=), rather than a hyphen (-). Clitics often express ‘grammatical’ information that relates to the overall meaning of a sentence. In the above example, the word dudu∙k̓ʷaƛitid ‘we sang’ has three clitics. The clitic =id, for example, identifies the participants in the sentence and their role in relation to the verb: the ‘we’ who sang for a while. To summarize, words in Wakashan languages are all built the same way: each word always begins with a root or lexicalized stem, like an anchor. Additional morphemes, suffixes, are added on to the end. If the word is part of a sentence, clitics are added after suffixes. Wakashan languages are often described as exclusively suffixing, and these pieces are assembled in a predictable way: the basic structure of a Wakashan word is [stem – suffix(es) = clitic(s)] (Nakayama 2017:605). Below, we discuss these building blocks in more detail: roots and stems first, then suffixes, and finally clitics.

43.2.1 Roots and stems Many dictionaries for Wakashan languages are organized around alphabetical lists of roots, which conveniently appear at the beginning of the word. Additional related stems and derived longer words are often included underneath each root entry (cf. Boas 1948; Lincoln & Rath 1980). Some dictionaries include sentences and lists of suffixes with their meanings (cf. Grubb 1977; Rath 1981; Powell 1991; Stonham 2005). By identifying a root within a word and searching it in a dictionary, teachers and learners can identify cultural meanings within and between words and see how words are related to each other. Unlike languages where roots can easily be sorted into categories such as nouns, verbs, adjectives, and so on, the lexicon of Wakashan roots encompasses all these categories and more, as can be seen in the list of Kwak̓wala roots below. (4)

Roots: Meaning, in Kwak̓wala (Boas 1948, passim) bəkʷ- ‘human, person’, ‘to be human’ kimt-  ‘to clean berries, roots; particularly to remove stems of fruits, to cut off small rootlets’

4 Davidson worked with the following speakers of qʷi·qʷi·diččaq from di∙ya (Neah Bay): Ruth Clapanhoo (RC), Katie Hunter (KH), Hildred Ides (HI), Isabell Ides (II), Helma Swan (HW), Meredith Parker (MP), Hugh Smith (HS), Irene Ward (IW). Davidson does not associate speakers with specific examples.



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nu- ‘I’, 1sg w̓ap- ‘water’ w̓əd- ‘cold’ ƛ̓aqʷ- ‘red’ w̓i- ‘where?’, ‘how?’ k̓iʔ- ‘not’, neg mu- ‘four’ haʔ- ‘quickly’ hił- ‘right’, ‘straight’ Some roots refer to noun-like entities: ‘person,’ ‘water.’ Some describe verb-like actions, states, or processes: ‘to clean berries, roots.’ Others are associated with grammatical functions or other parts of speech, such as independent pronouns, adverbs, adjectives, quantities, or question words. Mary Haas described many roots in nuučaan̓uł and diitiidʔaaʔtx̣ as “highly abstract in meaning,” encompassing many facets of experience (Haas 1972: 88). These meanings reflect cultural knowledge and Kwak̓wala ‘handling’ roots describe interactions with the world in terms of shape, materiality, and movement. (5)  

Handling roots, in Kwak̓wala (Boas 1948, passim) paq‘to lay down flat thing(s)’     pagoy̓ud ‘to lay a flat thing in the middle’ pagayu ‘flat bird net, thrown over swimming birds’ paxʔid ‘to lay board down,’ ‘to keep still in winter ceremonial’ pagʷayuxsdiʔ ‘tail (of beaver)’ papəqəwinikała ‘flat things piled up’ dᶻik‘to push with long thing (in cooking berries)’; ‘to push among, up, to dig clams’   dᶻígayu ‘digging stick for clams’ dᶻigas ‘clam beach’ dᶻígəkʷ ‘boiled huckleberries, berry jam’ dᶻikaɬa ‘to sing high’ dᶻíkap̓ala ‘to speak strongly to one another, to quarrel’ dᶻikaɬa ‘sail’ (poked) dᶻidᶻako ‘ends of year meet’ dᶻup-   ‘to tuck in soft things’; ‘to stuff into’   dᶻupa ‘to can fish’ dᶻústoy̓i ‘plug’ dᶻubəχsti ‘cork’ dᶻubəχsteʔ- ‘to cork bottle’ gə́ls‘to smear on’   gəlyayu ‘paint’ gə́lsəl̕od ‘to scrape off from stone’

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‘to hang in a loop’; ‘to hang in a sling’; ‘to hold up’; ‘to carry in arms’   q̓ələ́m ‘loop for holding hanging horizontal pole’ q̓əχq̓əlíł ‘horizontal poles hanging in house’ q̓éɬəxƛəy̓a ‘to take baby out of arms of someone carrying it’

The words derived from these roots paint a picture: how birds are hunted and clams dug, how berries are gathered and fish preserved. Paxʔid- tells us about the protocols of winter ceremonies; dᶻikap̓ala- compares a quarrel to people pushing at each other with long sticks. The languages also have extensive sets of roots referring to the shapes and positions of objects and beings, called ‘classificatory verbs,’ ‘verbal classifiers,’ or ‘positional’ roots. (Haas 1972, Berman 1990, Fortescue 2006, Rosenblum 2015) The most abstract roots are placeholders which take their primary meaning from attached suffixes. The Kwak’wala word for ‘whatchamacallit,’ a̱x̱aya, derives from the placeholder root a̱x̱-. Some grammars call these ‘dummy’ roots or ‘empty’ roots (Boas 1948; Rose 1981; Nakayama 2001; Davidson 2002; Littell 2016; inter alia). In the qʷi·qʷi·diččaq words below, each word takes its primary meaning from the attached suffixes. (6)        

Placeholder roots, in qʷi·qʷi·diččaq (Davidson 2002:49, 54) hi∙naisu∙ʔuk hina-i:s-u:ʔuk empty.root-carry-going ‘carry along’

       

hi∙nawi∙qš hina-awi:qš empty.root-call.for ‘send for’

       

hi∙chinḥsacpa hina-(q)ḥsa-cpa∙ empty.root-at.brink-on.X.side ‘on the beach side’

The dictionary entries for such roots tend to be very long, sometimes several pages, because they are so productive and found in many words. There are some basic rules about roots and stems. Wakashan words always have one—and only one—root or stem. Speakers do not compound or combine two roots to make a compositional meaning such as can be found in English words like ‘afternoon,’ ‘eggshell,’ or ‘moonbeam.’ Roots are also bound, meaning they cannot stand on their own as a word. At least one suffix must be added to make a free-standing word; minimal verbs have at least one aspect-marking suffix. With the addition of suffixes, the Kwak̕wala root duḵw- becomes duḵwa ‘to see’ (-a), duḵwa̱la ‘to look at’ (-a̱la CONT continuous), duḵw’id ‘to see, catch sight of’ (-(x)’id MOM momentaneous), and duḵwaɬa



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‘to watch’ (-ała POS positional). Wakashan roots have a predictable shape: one initial consonant, a single vowel, and 0 to 4 consonants at the end of the morpheme: CV, CVC, CVCC, CVCCC, CVCCCC (cf. Lincoln & Rath 1980) Many combinations of roots and affixes have fused or ‘lexicalized’ into stems, and the meaning of a stem may not be transparent from the literal translation of its parts. Speakers use stems like roots, as anchors for word building. Dictionaries often list stems as separate vocabulary items, and it can be helpful to learn them this way. At the same time, many learners find deep value in understanding the literal meaning of each morpheme and how they combine. A ‘beautiful word’ pedagogy developed by scholar-practitioners of Wakashan languages unpacks the meaning inside words to illuminate learners’ connection with their cultural inheritance and encourage a holistic, joyful, nourishing process (Rosborough, Urbanczyk, & Rorick 2017:430). (7)

Lexicalized stems, in Kwak̓wala (Rosborough p.c.) hiɬ‘to make right’; ‘to be right’   hilił(a)- ‘to serve food to guests immediately upon arrival’ (to make right in house); hilato, pl. hehélato ‘to hear’ (to put ear properly) hílaq ‘lucky’; híligənd’ ‘to serve desert’ hílik- ‘to heal’ m̓əkʷ- ‘round thing’ ̓məkʷ ‘round thing’     m̓əkóla ‘island (round thing stationary in water)’ m̓əχʷm̓əgʷiɬ ‘kidney’ (lumps inside) m̓əkʷáχalisa ‘to wash down food’ m̓əkʷə́la ‘moon’ m̓əχw̓aƛəla ‘new moon’ (round thing put on)

The Kwak̓wala stem hiliɬ- ‘to serve guests immediately upon arrival,’ combines the root hiɬ- ‘to make right’ with a suffix -iɬ INSIDE, locating an event or entity inside a house or on a floor. In Kwakwa̱ ka̱ ’wakw culture, one makes things right in their house by feeding guests right away. Another process, reduplication, also makes new stems out of roots by changing their shape. Prototypical reduplication involves copying a root, or part of a root, and juxtaposing these two pieces side by side.5 Reduplication can indicate plurality and/ or multiplicity in nouns and/or verbs, as in the two Ahousaht words below (see also Henderson, this volume).

5 The first part is considered by some the copy and by others the root; this question can be left aside here.

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Reduplication: plurality, in Ahousaht nuuc̓aan̓uł (Kim & Wojdak 2002: 1)6 quutquuʔas red-quuʔas-t red-person-pl ‘people’

 

waawaaɬyuqʷa red -waɬyuqʷ-(y)a red -bark-rep.it ‘barking (repeatedly)’

Speakers also use reduplication in baby talk, as in Ahousaht pa∙paš ‘eat!,’ ka∙kana ‘toy,’ kuškulululu ‘kootchy-kootchy-koo’ (George and Viola Louie, in Kess & Kess, 1986). In other contexts, reduplication is an automatic process resulting from attaching a particular suffix. Below, the Ahousaht suffix -k̓ukʷ ‘to resemble’ triggers reduplication when added to the root yuk̓ʷic ‘younger.sibling.’ (9)  

Reduplication triggered by suffix, in Ahousaht nuučaan̓uł (Kim & Wojdak 2002:3) y̓uy̓ukʷick̓ukʔiš red -yuk̓ʷic-k̓ukʷ-ʔiš red -younger.sibling-resemble-3s.ind ‘S/he resembles his/her younger sibling.’

Many suffixes can also affect the vowels in the reduplicated stem, a process called stem expansion. Each language has several patterns of stem expansion and reduplication revealed when suffixes are added to roots. It can be hard to predict how the combination of a root and suffix will sound, but the rhythmic and melodic qualities of the resulting words help learners pick them up, especially for the most frequent patterns. Overviews of reduplication patterns, with suffixes grouped according to their effect on the stem, are found in several grammars. Boas described 18 patterns in Kwak̓wala (1947:219–224; Kirchner 2010:77) and Bach (2009) lists them for X̄a’islak̓ala-X̄enaksialak̓ala. Sapir and Swadesh (1939) and Kim and Wojdak (2002) described them for nuučaan̓uł languages; Davidson (2002) described them for qʷi·qʷi·diččaq. These descriptions are highly technical and compressed, and there is still a need for pedagogically-informed materials that accessibly summarize and teach these patterns to learners. The list of roots in any Wakashan language is relatively limited, usually around 1400 roots (cf. Bach on Haisla 2002: 537), but generates a huge number of existing stems and words and infinitely more new constructions. Speakers combine morphemes in an infinite number of playful and poetic ways.

6 Kim and Wojdak (2002) worked with Mary Jane Dick, Katherine Fraser, Caroline Little, and Sarah Webster for the description of reduplication in Ahousaht.



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43.2.2 Suffixes Large inventories of suffixes give speakers a rich and complex way of experiencing and describing the world. These suffixes add, refine, derive, and specify meaning for the words to which they attach. A Wakashan word always has at least one suffix, and usually more. Kwak̕wala and Kyuquot each have over 400 suffixes (Boas, Yampolsky, & Harris 1947, Rose 1981). Several useful glossaries of suffixes and their meanings provide examples of use in context (Boas 1947, Bach 2009). The Ahousaht word ʕupqswi:ʕaqn̓uk has for sand running through one’s fingers three suffixes meaning ‘go.through,’ ‘inside,’ and ‘in.hand,’ attached to a root ʕupqmeaning ‘flow.through.’ (10)  

Suffixes, in Ahousaht nuučaan̓uł (Nakayama 2017:10) ʕupqswi:ʕaqn̓uk ʕupq-swi∙q-’aqƛ-n̓uk flow.through-go.through-inside-in.hand7 ‘[Sand] runs through the fingers’

Suffixes are grouped together in which cohere around themes: body parts, geography, shape, context, setting. Only one suffix from a given paradigm is used in a word. Rich paradigms of spatial reference, identifying location, motion, path, orientation, and direction, are crucial resources in all Wakashan languages (cf. Rath 1981 on Híɫzaqvḷa; Davidson 2002:196–200 on Tseshaht and qʷi·qʷi·diččaq̓; Rosenblum 2015 on Kwak’wala). A large set of locative body-part suffixes generates prolific metaphorical expressions for all aspects of experience (cf. Nicolson 2014). Throughout the family, there are pairs of suffixes contrasting human-built inside settings ‘on the floor, in the house’ with non-built outside settings ‘in an open space, on the beach, in the world, on the bottom of the water’ (Boas 1947:328; Nicolson 2014). Suffixes are not freely ordered, but nor is there a simple template to instruct where suffixes should be placed. However, the sequence of suffixes is often predictable, and usually relates to the meaning of a word. Several grammars for specific languages describe the order in which suffixes tend to attach (cf. Boas 1947:234–236; Stonham 2004). Many combinations are very frequent and easily picked up by learners. Some of the most frequent combinations have fused or ‘grammaticalized’ into new suffixes. Occasionally, changing the order of suffixes produces a difference in meaning, as in the two Tseshaht words below.

7 Glossing notation follows Nakayama 2017.

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 T̕łat̕ łaḵuł Patricia Rosborough and Daisy Rosenblum

Sequence of suffixes, in Tseshaht nuučaan̓uł (Swadesh 1938:86, Alex Thomas) ƛuy̓i∙sckʷi ƛus-’i∙s-ckʷi∙ herring-consume-remains.of ‘left-overs from eating herring’ ̃ ƛusckʷiʔis ƛus-ckʷi-’i∙s herring-remains.of-consume ‘to eat leftovers of herring’

Switching the sequence of -’i∙s ‘to consume’ and -ckʷi∙ ‘remains of’ changes the meaning from ‘left-overs from eating herring’ to the verb ‘to eat leftovers of herring.’ Like roots, suffixes can mean all sorts of things. Some suffixes mark grammatical information, like how or when an event took place. Others refer to a person, place, thing, event, or state. Still others identify location, setting, path, direction, or manner, or classify roots and stems according to shape or other quality. (12)  

Meanings of suffixes, in qʷi·qʷi·diččaq (Davidson 2002:95–97) nominal -(k)sac (cntr) ‘container, vessel for X’   -i∙tiʔi: ‘-er’ (agent)   -yakʷ ‘thing, instrument for X’ (inst) ̓ verbal -cis ‘laughing at X’ (laugh)   -idux̣ ‘seeking X’ (seek)   -subač ‘do ritual for X’ (ritual) locative -’ax̣s ‘in a vessel’ (in)   -a∙sc̓a ‘on the roof’ (roof)   -adiɬ ‘neck’ (neck) path -baɬ ‘moving about’ (mot.atel)   -n̓i∙q ‘down a slope’ (down slope)

Many suffixes have meanings that in English and many languages are packaged as separate words. In Wakashan and nearby Salishan languages, suffixes like this are often called lexical suffixes. The Tseshaht word ʔaƛqimɬi∙csat̕asʔaƛqu∙, meaning ‘carry (or drag) two round objects out of the woods on the ground,’ illustrates why.



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Combining suffixes, in Tseshaht nuučaan̓uł (Davidson 2002:169; based on NT 86.13–14)8 ʔaƛqimɬi∙csat̕asʔaƛqu∙ ʔaƛ-qimɬ-i:cs-at-’as=’aƛ=qu: two-X.many.round.objects-carry-move.out.of.woods.perf-on.ground=temp=cond ̃ t̕it̕i∙čaqyu ʔa∙tuš. ̃ t̕it̕i∙čaqyu ʔa∙tuš Titichakyo deer ‘Titichakyo would bring two deer out of the woods.’

The English translation requires a whole phrase to capture the combination of four suffixes in the Tseshaht word. Similarly, English ‘to want’ is a separate verb, but in Kwak̕wala and other Wakashan languages, the same concept may be expressed with a suffix -ʔəχsd ‘to want.’ (14)

Desiderative suffix, in Kʷak̓ʷala (Littell 2016:321)9 didagəʔexsdam̓ase? di-di-gəʔ-hɛxsda=ʔm=a=s=e redup-tea-consume-want=ver=ques=2=ques ‘Do you want tea?’

The root di- means ‘tea’; two suffixes add verbal meanings: -geʔ ‘to consume’ and – hɛxsda ‘to want,’ together making a word that means ‘to want to drink tea.’ As Nakayama noted, roots and suffixes serve different communicative purposes: “entities expressed by lexical suffixes are abstract, general classes of things, whereas those expressed by roots are more specific” (2002:59). The Kwak̓wala sentence below illustrates the contrast.

8 Davidson’s Hupacasath, and Tseshaht examples are drawn from Sapir & Swadesh 1939 and 1955. Alex Thomas was Sapir’s primary research partner. Other speakers include Sayachapis ‘Tom’ (Tseshaht), Hamilton George (Hupacasath), Frank Williams (Tseshaht), William, Captain Bill, Douglas Thomas, Peter Kishkish, and Big Fred (Tseshaht). Hamilton George, Frank Williams, and Alex Thomas (Tseshaht, grandson of ‘Tom’) are also credited as interpreters. Davidson provides a list of texts and an explanation of how example sources are cited (i.  e. NT 86.13–14) in his discussion of the corpus created for Davidson 2002: 3–4. 9 Littell worked with Ruby Dawson Cranmer and the late Freda Shaughnessy; additional contributors wished to remain anonymous.

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Differing functions of roots and suffixes, in Kʷak̓ʷala (Rosenblum 2015:257, 2013jul17_BL_1.11)10 ləm̓oχ t̕ip̓stəwoχda gəngənanəmχ laχʷa ̕ lə-ʔəm=oχ tip-(ʔ)sta=oχdad gən-gənanəm=χ la=χʷa aux-oi=3.sbj step-liquid=3.sbj red-children=dem prep=obj.1 w̓apiχ. w̓ap=iχ water=t.dem ‘The children stepped in the water.’

Both the suffix -ʔsta (LIQUID) and the root w̓ap- refer to the same body of water but have different functions: -ʔsta modifies the verb t̕ip- ‘step’ to mean the act of stepping in anything wet. The word w̓apiχ refers to the Kingcome river, a specific body of water that the children stepped in. Several meanings are expressed by roots and suffixes, in entirely unrelated forms.11 (16)

       

 

Noncognate roots and suffixes with close meanings, in Xai’sla, nuučaan̓uł, and Kwak̕wala ROOT SUFFIX   Xa’isla hixt’i ‘head (of animal, person, etc.)’ -qia ‘(on) head’  (Bach 2002:538) nuučaan̓uł ƛišƛin ‘foot’ -(q)ḥta ‘(on) foot’  (Stonham 2005:444) Kwak̕wala n̓ala ‘upriver’ -ʔusta up.river  (Rosenblum 2015:215) Kwak̕wala ʔaƛ- ‘into the woods, landward’ -yag into.woods  (Rosenblum 2015:215)

There are two types of suffixes: one set that attaches closely to the root or stem, and another set that attaches farther away.12 Those closer to the root or stem which derive specific meaning from the morphemes they attach to are sometimes called derivational suffixes. Meanwhile, suffixes closer to the outer edge of the word tend to be inflectional: they situate a word within a moment of communication. They might indicate what evidence a speaker has for what they say; how they came to know some information (i.  e., evidential); how certain or uncertain their knowledge is (i.  e., epistemic); or how they feel about what they are saying (i.  e., stance). 10 In work by Rosenblum, source labeling for examples drawn from audio and/or text corpora provides the filename 2013jul17_BL_1 used to identify the audio file (.wav) and ELAN transcription (.etf), and the line number in the transcription (e.  g. 2013jul17_BL_1.11). 11 An exception is the Kwak̓wala suffix -’mut ‘leftovers, remains’ and the root ’muta̱la ‘to take home leftovers.’ (Rosborough 2019) 12 Called ‘formative’ and ‘incremental’ in Sapir & Swadesh (1939:236); ‘core’ and ‘peripheral’ in Davidson (2002).



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Evidential and epistemic suffixes, in qʷi·qʷi·diččaq̓ (Jacobsen 1986 quoted in Mithun 1999:184) hearsay: hi∙dawʔaƛwa∙d ‘I hear he found it’ (hi∙dawʔal ‘He found it.) auditory: pu∙pu∙q̓adʔi ‘he’s blowing a whistle’ (pu∙pu∙ ‘He’s whistle.blowing’) uncertain visual: č̓apaccaqil ‘it looks like a canoe’ (č̓apac̓ ‘it’s a canoe’) ̓ visual inference: haʔukaƛpi∙dic ‘I see you ate’ (haʔuk̓alic ‘you’re eating’)

It can be helpful for learners to group together suffixes that attach to the root first, and those that attach only after the close suffixes have been added.

43.2.3 Clitics The last type of ‘building block’ found in Wakashan words is called a clitic. Wakashan clitics attach after suffixes and are called enclitics. Clitics serve a different function than a suffix: suffixes can make a word but not a sentence. Only clitics can make a single word into a sentence. In that way, they are better discussed in the next section on sentences Teachers and learners sometimes call clitics ‘connectors’ because they connect words to each other and indicate the relationship between them. Some link sentences to each other and indicate the relationship between those sentences. Others identify participants in an event, or locate an event in time and space. In the Ahousaht example below, the clitic =’aƛ turns the word into a sentence that describes a particular event. (18)

Sentence-forming clitics in Ahousaht nuučaan̓uł (Nakayama 2017:614, [FoodThief.017]) tu:kʷi:čsan̓ap̓aƛ. tu:k-i∙č-san̓ap=’aƛ cover.with.sand-covering-on.the.beach-momcaus=event ‘He covered it with sand on the beach.’

In the qʷi·qʷi·diččaq sentence below, clitics tell you that the singing happened in the past (=(b)it PAST) and that ‘we’ (=id 1PL) were the ones singing. (19)

Clitics, in qʷi·qʷi·diččaq (Davidson 2002: 99) dudu∙k̓ʷaƛitid yu∙yu. dudu∙k=’aƛ=(b)it=id yu∙yu sing=temp=past=indic.1pl for.a.while ‘We sang for a while.’

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Clitics sometimes behave more like separate words, and speakers may consider them to be separate words rather than parts of words. Additional properties of clitics are discussed further in the next section.

43.3 Phrases and sentences This section summarizes some characteristic features of phrases and sentences. Because Wakashan words are polysynthetic, a single word in a Wakashan language can contain all of the information necessary for a grammatically complete sentence. (20)

Single-word sentences, in Kwak̕wala (Rosborough, p.c.) Pusḵa̱n. pusḵ=a̱ n hungry=1sg ‘I’m hungry.’ Pusḵam ̕ a̱s? pusḵ-am ̕ =a̱s hungry-ver.q=2sg ‘Are you hungry?’

Of course, not all sentences are one word. Sentences with more than one word follow a predictable order, described below.

43.3.1 Word order Basic Wakashan sentences begin with a predicate, a word or phrase which expresses the core idea of a sentence. In this section, we use predicate to mean the basic unit of sentence structure. In the same way that the stem is a nucleus around which a word forms, the predicate is a nucleus around which a sentence forms. The predicate is very often a verb or verb phrase. In a prototypical sentence, the predicate is followed by the participants: subjects and objects and other elements. Wakashan languages are described as having a Verb-Subject-Object word order, abbreviated VSO.13 The Kwak̓wala sentence below illustrates this order.

13 ‘Verb’ here refers to the predicate which may not always align with our expectations about verbs according to word class expectations (for more about this, see section 3.4)



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Predicate-initial (VSO) word order, in Kwak̕wala (Rosenblum, 2012jul31_BL_1, field notes) Predicate (verb) Subject Object ̓qəxʔídoχda ̓wác̓iyaχa gənánəm. q̓əx-(x)ʔíd=Ø=oχda w̓ác̓i=(a)χa gənánəm bite-mom=3.sbj=def dog=obj child ‘The dog bit the child.’

Both the subject w̓ác̓i ‘dog’ and object gənánəm ‘child’ are separate words outside the verb, and may be called lexical subjects and objects. In Northern Wakashan languages, lexical subjects, objects and other participants follow a VSO order quite consistently. Southern Wakashan languages also have predicate-initial word order, but are more flexible in ordering subjects, objects, and other syntactic roles. In these languages, objects (or object phrases) can sometimes precede subjects, as in the following example. (22)

Discourse-motivated VOS in Southern Wakashan languages, Tseshat nuučaan̓uł (Stonham 2008:521, from Waldie 2004b: 49, ex. 98) verb object subject ʔay-uʔaaɬ-ʔiš sačk č̓iima Kim. many-find-3.ind sharp knife Kim ‘Kim found a lot of sharp knives.’

Speakers might vary different word orders to manage information in response to different contexts (cf. Nakayama 2001). In Northern languages, a subject that is new information or a sentence topic might appear before the predicate, or between two words in a predicate phrase, as in the sentence below. (23)

Subject in second position (V1 S V2 order), in Kwak̕wala (Littell 2016:99) k̓iʔsuχ Katiyəχ k̓əp̓idsəw̓a. ̓kiʔs=uχ Katiy=q k̓əp̓-xʔid-səw̓a not=3.med Katie=vis scissor.motion-change-pass ‘Katie didn’t get a haircut.’

Pronouns attached to the predicate are not separate words, but clitics. However, they too follow a VSO order, even when they are bound to the verb. (24)

VSO order: Pronominal participants, in Kwak̕wala (Boas, Yampolsky, & Harris 1947:253) gagak̓ənƛoł ga-gak̓=ən=ƛoł red-marry=1.sbj=2.obj1 ‘I am ready to marry you.’

More detail about pronouns and pronominal marking is provided in the next section.

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43.3.2 Marking participants Word order is only one way that speakers recognize the roles of participants in a sentence. This section describes additional ways that Wakashan languages mark participants and indicate their relationships to each other and to the verb.

43.3.2.1 Lexical participants These participants are sometimes called arguments of the verb. The most essential participants, the ones that are necessary to a verb, are core arguments. Northern Wakashan languages have three core argument types: subjects, primary objects, and secondary objects. These refer to their ‘syntactic roles’ in relationship to the verb. All three are found in the sentence below, with the clitics which identify them in bold type. (25)

Northern Wakashan: V S O1 O2 case markers, in Kwak̕wala (Shaw 2008a: 2008_07_21_003DS)14 hə́nɬʔidida bəgʷánəmaχa ƛ̓ay̓isa hə́nλəmi. hə́n-ɬ-ʔid=i=da bəgʷanəma=χa ƛ̓ay̓i=sa hənλəm-i shoot-pst-mom=sbj=def man=obj1 black.bear=obj2 gun=t.dem V  S  O1 O 2 ‘The man shot the black bear with a gun.’

In sentences with more than one word, clitics attach to the end of the preceding word to mark the syntactic role (i.  e., subject, primary object, secondary object15) of the word that follows. However, as is true of many languages, sentences like the one above, with both subjects and objects fully described as nouns, are rare in spontaneous speech in Wakashan languages (Nakayama 2001:75; Littell 2016). In Southern Wakashan languages, speakers of nuučaan̓uł mark only subjects, while qʷi·qʷi·diččaq and diitiidʔaaʔtx̣ mark subjects and objects. In diitiidʔaaʔtx̣, subjects come after the predicate. A postposition ʔoyoqw follows a word to mark it as an object (identified below as accusative ‘ACC’).

14 Audio files from Kwak̕wala Practicum Course at UCSB, InField 2008 are identified with filename of .wav file. The source is University of California at Santa Barbara, Institute on Field Linguistics and Language, instructor Patricia A. Shaw (2008). Lagis, Beverly, and Daisy Sewid Smith, speakers. 15 Primary and secondary objects have different names in different sources: Boas called them ‘objects’ and ‘instrumentals,’ while others refer to them as ‘accusative’ and ‘oblique’ (Boas 1948, Littell 2016 inter alia). Because recipients (the person who receives a gift, for example) are consistently marked with O1, and themes (i.  e., a received gift) with O2 (Rosenblum 2015), the objects follow a pattern of ‘secundative alignment’ also found in other languages (Malchukov, Haspelmath, & Comrie 2010).



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Southern Wakashan: Postposition marking object, in diitiidʔaaʔtx̣ (Anderson 2005:17, citing Klokeid 1976) tl’itchitl=ibt=ʔa John Bowatc ʔoˉyoqw. shoot-past-decl John deer acc ‘John shot a deer.’

Elements that are not required by a verb are called oblique arguments. In the Kwak̕wala sentence below, the preposition laχa marks the destination w̓ap ‘water, river.’ (27)        

Prepositional phrases marking oblique, in Kwak̕wala (Rosenblum 2015:101; 2013jul15_BL_frogstory) dəχʷstá w̓apiχ. laχa dəχʷ-(ʔ)sta=Ø la=χa w̓ap=iχ jump-liquid=3.sbj prep=dem water=dem ‘He/they jumped in the water.’

Prepositional words such as laχa in the sentence above are often translated with English prepositions at, in, on, to, or other spatial descriptions; laxa can mean any of these things. As described in the previous section on morphology, suffixes add detailed locative and spatial information directly to a verb, so laχa just links the argument w̓apiχ to the verb. The verb contains the spatial, locative, and directional information that an English speaker might expect to find in a preposition.

43.3.2.2 Pronouns and pronominal reference Pronouns replace ‘lexical’ arguments: ‘she’ instead of ‘Mary,’ for example. Pedagogical descriptions of Wakashan pronoun systems have been created and shared by teaching teams in many communities, e.  g. materials shared online (www.hesquiahtlanguage. org) by the Hesquiaht Language Program (Paul, et al. n.d.) and in audio and print curriculum created by the U’mista Cultural Centre over several decades (cf. Powell, Jensen, Cranmer, and Cook 1981). In Northern Wakashan languages, most pronouns are clitics which attach to the predicate. The table below shows Kwak̓wala pronominal marking for singular and plural subjects and objects in first, second, and third person.  

subject

primary object

 

secondary object

I/me You He/She/ItThey We/Us (All of us) We/Us (Us but not you)

1sg 2sg 3  1pl.incl 1pl.excl

=a̱n(tł) =a̱s Ø  =a̱nts =a̱nu’x̱w

PREP: gax̱a̱n =utł =ḵ PREP: gax̱a̱nts PREP: gax̱a̱nu’x̱w

=a̱n(tł) =us =s =a̱nts =a̱nu’x̱w

Fig. 2: Northern Wakashan: Pronominal marking, in Kwak̕wala (Boas, Yampolsky, & Harris 1947:252, ­converted to U’mista)

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First-person objects (i.  e., ‘me’ and ‘us’) here are marked with prepositions instead of clitics. Similar tables can be found for other languages in grammars (Rath 1981; Flynn 2002). In Southern Wakashan languages, pronominal suffixes attach to the end of verbs, similar to conjugations in languages like French, Spanish, or Latin. These portmanteau suffixes combine information about the participant with other information about the mood of the verb: when or how an event occurred (tense or aspect), how a speaker feels about what they are saying (stance), and also how a verb fits into the grammar of a sentence (i.  e., whether it is part of the main clause or a dependent or subordinate clause). These suffixes vary among different dialects of nuučaan̓uł as well as among the three Southern Wakashan languages. Figure 3 presents a partial set of these mood and pronoun suffixes in Kyuquot.  

absolutive

indefinite

evidential

interrogative

subordinate

dubitative

1sg (I) 2sg (you) 3sg ((s)he, it)

-s -k Ø 

-(y)i:-s -(y)i:-k -(y)i:

-s-a∙ʕš Ø  -a∙ʕš

-ḥa-s -ḥa∙k, -k -ḥa∙

-qa∙-s -qa∙-k -qa∙

-qa∙-c -qa∙č̓ -k -qa∙č̓

1pl 2pl 3pl

-in -su: -ʔa∙ɬ

-(y)i-n -(y)i: -su: -ʔa∙ɬ

-in-aʕš Ø  -a∙ʕšaɬ

-ḥ-in -ḥa∙-su: -ḥa∙ʔɬ

-q-in -qa∙-su: -qa∙ʔɬ

-qa∙č̓-in -qa∙-cu: -qa∙čʔaɬ

Fig. 3: Southern Wakashan: Mood and pronominal affixes, in Kyuquot nuučaan̓uł (Rose 1981:213)

More context about the meanings and use of these mood and pronominal affixes is provided in Rose’s 1981 dissertation, and descriptions of other Southern pronominal systems can be found in Haas 1969; Rose 1981; Davidson 2002, inter alia.

43.3.2.3 Third-person reference In English, one says this for something close at hand and that for something more distant. Such demonstratives fit within a larger category of determiners which mark relationships among participants and the verb. In Wakashan languages, speakers make additional distinctions when they refer to third-person objects or participants: in Kwak’wala, an object marked with =ax̱ is ‘here’ and visible, while one marked with =ga’ is ‘here’ and not visible.



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Third-person determiners: Proximity and visibility, in Kwak̕wala (Nicolson & Werle 2009:16, Gloria Nicolson) A̱ngwida makalatła? A̱ ngw-ida makalatła who-d3 next ‘Who’s next? Bethax̱. A. Getłiga Getłi=ga Beth=ax̱ this(d1)+future=d1 Beth=d1.vis ‘It will be Beth (here, visible).’ B. Getłiga Bethga’ Getłi=ga Beth=ga’ this(d1)+future=d1 Beth=d1.invis ‘It will be Beth (here, behind a dance curtain).’

Kwak̓wala also distinguishes among objects that are (1) close enough for the speaker to hold, (2) mid-distance, and (3) far from both speaker and listener. In Híɫzaqvḷa, an additional distinction is made for a person or thing which has recently left, disappeared, or been removed. These forms change depending on the syntactic role of a participant: subject, primary object, and secondary object.  

subject

primary object

secondary object

distance

visible

invisible

visible

invisible

visible

invisible

near mid far

=k =ux̱ =iḵ

=ga’ =u’ =i’

=qa̱k =ḵw =ḵ

=xga’ =ḵ̕w, =ḵu’ =ḵi

=sa̱k =sux̱ =s

=sga’ =su’ =si’

Fig. 4: Pronominal demonstratives, in Kwak̕wala (Boas, Yampolsky, & Harris 1947:252, converted to U’mista)

A separate paradigm of roots used for emphatic third-person reference also includes other roots for first- and second-person reference (Boas, Yampolsky, & Harris 1947:258). Southern Wakashan determiners mark presence and absence, as well as proximity, in independent words rather than clitics. (29)        

Determiner, in Kyuquot nuučaan̓uł (Rose 1981:43) waɬša∙ʔƛƛa ʔaḥʔa∙ wał-ši(ƛ)-’aƛ-ƛa∙ ʔaḥʔa go.home-mom-tem-again that ‘That guy went home again.’

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Forms which refer directly to the moment of speaking, and the relationship between speakers, listeners, and the objects and events present during a moment of speaking, are called deictic. These deictic markers are one of the ways that Wakashan languages paint a detailed picture of the surrounding world. Because deictic markers are obligatory, they are very frequent, but not always something speakers are conscious of using. Nevertheless, speakers notice when they are missing, and learners who hear these forms in sentences and conversations quickly develop a sense of how and when to use them.

43.3.3 Noun Phrases Wakashan noun phrases (NPs) follow a structure familiar to English speakers: adjectives, modifying words which describe some property of an entity such as size, shape, or color, come before the noun they describe. With more than one adjective, the sequence is predictable according to what quality they describe: possessive markers come before number modifiers and other quantifiers, and descriptions of size or quality come after that. (30)        

Quantity and property (size), in Kyuquot nuučaan̓uł (Rose 1981:47) mu∙niti n’icʔis č̓itaɬ mu∙-nit-ʔi∙ n’ic-ʔis č̓itaɬ four-past-def little-dim board ‘four little boards’

Nakayama summarized the order for nuučaan̓uł NPs. (31)      

Noun phrases: Order of modifiers, in Ahousaht nuučaan̓uł (Nakayama 2001:91) NUMERAL QUANTIFIER > PROPERTY CONCEPT > NOMINAL > ACTION/EVENT/STATE QUALIFIERLOCATIVE

Multiple adjectival meanings can be packed into one word. Below, the Kyuquot root tupk- ‘black’ is modified by suffixes meaning ‘little’ and ‘many.’ The reduplication of mamaḥt ‘house’ indicates that these many houses are also distributed in space. (32)        

Adjectives, in Kyuquot nuučaan̓uł (Rose 1981:44) tupkakm’inḥisi mamaḥt ̓ /tupk-akʷ-m’inḥ-ʔis-ʔis∙ CV#maḥt’i/ black-dur-pl-dim-def distrib-house ‘a bunch of little black houses’

Possession is marked with a range of strategies. In Northern languages, possessive pronouns are clitics and behave like other pronouns, attaching at the end of a word



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to modify the following noun. The first-person possessive pronoun =ən ‘my’16 in the Kwak̓wala example refers to ʔumpa ‘father.’ (33)              

Northern: Pronominal possession, in Kwak̕wala (Rosenblum 2015:103, 2013jul17_BL_1.8) ləm̓ə́n ʔúmpa t̕íp̓əqəlaχa m̓ám̓i ̕ ̓ lə-ʔəm=ən ʔump=a tip-!q-əla=χa m̓am̓i aux-Ver=1.poss father step-among-cont=obj.1 blankets láχa ƛəmáy̓is laχa ƛəmay̓is prep=dem beach ‘My dad is down the beach washing our blankets (using his feet like an agitator).’

When both possessed and possessor are lexical nouns, possessed items come first. The noun phrase at the end of the sentence below means ‘the head of the little boy.’ (34)

Lexical possession, in Kwak̕wala (Rosenblum 2015:136, story) ləm̓isgada w̓ac̓iχ ƛ̓əpusto qəsle ̓ ̓ lə-ʔəm-is=gada waci=χ ƛ̓əpusto qəs-le aux-oi-quot=s.dem dog=dem climb-up purp-sub ‘The dog jumped up and held   POSSESSED laχoχ xumsasa la=χoχ xums=asa prep=dem head=gen onto the little boy’s head’

2013jul15_BL_frogdáɬə da-aɬa hold-pos

POSSESSOR babaGʷəmχ. babaGʷəm=χ boy=dem

The possessive clitic =asa attaches to the possessed xums ‘head,’ and precedes babaGʷəmχ ‘little boy.’ Possessive pronoun markers in Kyuquot attach to each possessed lexical item in a noun phrase, as in the Kyuquot sentence below. (35)

Pronominal possession, in Kyuquot nuučaan̓uł (Rose 1981:52) nuḥšiƛ qʷiša∙k ʔuḥiš qʷišsa∙ckʷ. nuḥ-ši(ƛ) qʷiš-(y)a:-ʔak ʔuḥiš qʷiš-sa∙ca-uk put.away-mom smoke-cont-poss and smoke-container-poss ‘She put away her tobacco and pipe.’

Sometimes possession is marked on a predicate.

16 Note that this form =ən is homophonous with the first-person subject marker (‘I’) but can be recognized as a possessive marker because it precedes the possessed noun.

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Possession marked on predicate, in Kyuquot nuučaan̓uł (Rose 1981:238) ʔukʷi∙łatkʷint Bill ḥuquma. ʔu-(č)i∙ł-’at-uk-int Bill ḥuq-um-ʔi∙ it-make-pass-poss-past Bill hollow.vessel-nom-def ‘Bill’s mask was made (for him).’

Some languages distinguish between a possessor who is the subject of a sentence and one who is not with different possession markers.

43.3.4 Sentence types In Wakashan languages, negation and content questions are expressed using predicate roots, a strategy that is quite different from the question words and negative words used in English grammar. Negative expressions can thus be contained within one word. (37)        

Negation, in Ahousaht nuučaan̓uł (Nakayama 2001:119, Mink 297) wikiimits. wik-i:p-it-s not-obtaining-past-1sg ‘I didn’t catch anything.’

Relatively complex content questions like who?, what?, when?, and how? can also be expressed within a word. (38)        

Content question, in qʷi·qʷi·diččaq (Davidson 2002:286) ba∙qic̓ak̓e∙ʔisaλi∙k? baqi-c̓ak-’e:ʔis=’aλ=(q)i:k what-cook-going.to=temp=content ‘What are you going to cook?’

Negative statements and questions can also require longer phrases. (39)

Negation, in Kʷak̓ʷala (Littell 2016:321) k̓iʔsən ʔəx̌ʔexsda χa di. k̓iʔs=n ʔx̌ -hɛxsda χa di not=1 do-want acc tea ‘I don’t want tea.’

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Content question: ‘Who,’ in qʷi·qʷi·diččaq (Davidson 2002:285) ʔačaqa∙ɬ dudu∙k? ʔačaq=(q)a:ɬ dudu∙k. who=content.3sg sing ‘Who is singing?’



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Yes–no questions, or polar questions, are formed by attaching a question marker to the first root in the predicate. (41)        

Yes–No question with enclitic marking, in qʷi·qʷi·diččaq (Makah) (Davidson 2002:286) ƛuɬu∙qa? ƛuɬ-u’=(q)a: good-appen=polar.3sg ‘Is it good?’

In English, a verb called a copula links two elements to equate them: ‘My father is a teacher.’ Wakashan speakers simply juxtapose the two equated elements. (42)          

Equational Sentence, in Kyuquot nuučaan̓uł (Rose 1981:55) good bill ƛułʔi∙š Bill. ƛuł-ʔi∙š Bill good-ind Bill ‘Bill is good.’

Existential sentences, which state that someone or something is, was, or will be in a place are similar. (43)          

Existential Sentence, in Tseshaht nuučaan̓uł (Davidson 2002: 133, NA 143.16) wolf here.on.ground qʷayac̓i∙k̓aƛma hiʔi∙s. qʷayac̓i:k=’aƛ=ma∙ hiʔi∙s wolf=temp=indic here.on.ground ‘There was a wolf on the ground.’

Some existential statements, however, are contained in a single word. (44)        

Single-word existential sentence, in Tseshaht nuučaan̓uł (Davidson 2002: 133, NA 86.29) c̓a∙wayu∙sci∙ʔas c̓awayu:s-(c)ci:ʔas rainbow-at.outside.wall.of.house ‘There is a rainbow on the side of the house.’

Rich language-specific descriptions of sentence types and patterns can be found in several grammars.

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43.4 Linking thoughts: Discourse and interaction Each sentence has at least one clause: a basic unit which describes one coherent idea. Some clauses are independent and can stand alone as complete sentences. Others are dependent, and need to be attached to an independent clause for their meaning to be understood. Discourse refers to language beyond a single sentence, i.  e. longer stretches of connected clauses and sentences. Languages use a range of strategies to connect clauses and sentences to each other, to indicate relationships between one idea and another, and to present and frame these ideas. This section describes some Wakashan strategies.

43.4.1 Discourse markers Discourse markers combine thoughts, indicate how they are related, and situate ideas within broader social, historical, and interactional contexts. Discourse markers connect speakers to the people they are speaking with, or to. Speakers use them to manage the flow of a narrative or conversation, and to negotiate each other’s attention. Some describe event structure: whether events occurred at the same time, in sequence, or in some other temporal relationship. (45)

Linking independent clauses, in Ahousaht nuučaan̓uɬ CLLS 18) ḥayuqʔičḥʔaƛits qʷiyaakiis qʷiyaakiis ḥayu-qʔičḥ-’aƛ-it-s qʷiyu-ʔa∙k-(y)i:s qaḥ-ši(ƛ) ten-year-tel-past-1sg when-poss-indf.1s dead-mom I.was.ten.years.old when.mine.did died [clause] [clause] ‘I was ten years old when my mother died.’

(Nakayama 2001:98, ʔumʔiiqsu. ʔumʔi∙qsu mother mother

In this sentence, Caroline Little uses Ahousaht qʷiyu- ‘when’ to explain how young she was when her mother died. The Kwak̓wala ‘purposive’ qəs marks the relationship between holding boots up and looking into them: the boy does one thing in order to do the other. (46)

Dependent clause: Purposive q-, in Kʷak̓ʷala (Rosenblum 2015:104, 2013jul15_ BL_3) ləm̓óχda bəgwánəmbiduχ dágustoɬaχus gə́mbuca lə-ʔəm-oχda bəgwanəm-bidu=χ da-gusto-(a)ɬa=χ=us gəmbuc=a aux-ver=s.dem boy-dim=dem hold-up-pos-o1=3.poss boot=dem qəs dúqʷc̓ole laχʷ.   qəs duqʷ-c̓əw-əla=i la=χʷ purp see-in-cont=3.sbj prep=3.obj2.p ‘The little boy is holding up his gumboots so that he can look into it (them).’



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A different marker, qu, indicates a conditional ‘if’ relationship between two clauses. (47)

Dependent clause: Conditional q-, in Kʷak̓ʷala (Sardinha 2018:258) ləm̓is duqʷaɬa χa kənl̕as qu edaqa laχ. lə=ʔm=(w)is duqʷ-aɬa=χ=a kənl̕as qu edaqa =laχ aux=ver see-stat=acc=det road if return here ‘She’s watching the road to see if it comes back.’

The related Kyuquot suffix –qu attaches to a second predicate when the subject of the second clause is not the same as the subject of the first. (48)

Dependent clause: Conditional suffix -qu, in Kyuquot nuučaan̓ uɬ (Rose 1981:75) ʔuwipik̓p Ben napni∙tqu Bill. ̓ ʔuwipik-’ap Ben napni∙t-qu: Bill not.want-caus Ben priest-cond Bill ‘Ben didn’t want Bill to be a priest.’

Other discourse markers like Tseshaht ču manage information flow beyond the sentence. (49)        

Particle WELL, in Tseshaht nuučaan̓uł (Davidson 2002:289) ču ḥačaqšiʔaƛsaʔaš. ču ḥa-ču∙-q-šiƛ=(c)sa∙ʔaš disc completely-having.Xed-bfr-perf=temp=inferii.1sg ‘Well, I seem to have completed (my ritual).’

Kwak̕wala speakers begin many sentences with variations on a discourse marker derived from the root la- meaning ‘go.’ (50)

Sequential THEN, in Kʷak̓ʷala (Littell 2016:588) ləm̓isən lał laχ Mexico. la=ʔəm=is=ən l=ał laχ Mexico then=ver=and=1 go=fut prep   Mexico ‘Then I’m going to Mexico.’

Forms marking dependence between clauses are also frequently used to mark discourse dependency in spontaneous speech. (51)

Subordinating quʔ, in Kʷak̓ʷala (Littell 2016: 608) quʔ busilaχ? q=uʔ busi=laχ for=hyp cat=hyp ‘What if it’s a cat?’ Lit: If it’s a cat

The use of dependent markers in discourse contexts has been called insubordination (Evans 2007, Mithun 2008), and is very common in natural speech cross-linguistically.

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43.4.2 Subjects in discourse Wakashan languages have multiple ways of choosing which subject to center in a sentence. This is often marked on the predicate. In qʷi·qʷi·diččaq̓, a perspective-shifting clitic =’it marks a change in subject from ‘I’ to ‘Bill’. (52)

Perspective-shifting with ‘it in qʷi·qʷi·diččaq̓ (Davidson 2002:117) (a) kudu∙ksa∙ʔaƛ̓its Bill. kudu∙k-sa:p=’aƛ=(b)it=s Bill awake-cause.perf=temp=past=indic.1sg Bill ‘I woke Bill.’ (b) kudu∙ksa∙ʔaƛ̓itits Bill. kudu∙k-sa:p=’aƛ=’it=(b)it=s Bill awake -cause.perf=temp=p.inv=past=indic.1sg Bill ‘Bill woke me.’  

These perspective shifts are sometimes described as a change from active voice to passive voice. Kwak̕wala has multiple passive markers, some used for syntactic roles, and some used for semantic roles. Below, the suffix –ayu PASS.217 attached to the predicate yəw̓i- ‘wind, blow’ makes the person who was blown overboard the subject of the sentence, rather than an object of the wind. (53)

Passive suffix -ayu in Kʷak̓ʷala (Shaw:2008_7_17DS.340) yəw̓isdandayuw̓oƛoχʷ. yəw̓i-sdana-d-ayu=oƛ=Ø=uχʷ wind-die.of-mom-pass.2=dist.past=3.sbj=dem ‘He was blown overboard by the wind (and died).’

For learners, being able to hear conversation and connected speech, not just isolated words and sentences, is especially helpful in developing an intuition for how speakers link sentences, interact with each other, and manage the flow of information in different contexts. For teachers in the community thinking about how to teach sentence-making, several effective pedagogical methods are described in several other chapters in this volume.

17 Four passive suffixes in Kwak̓wala promote different non-prototypical subject arguments to subject position: --səw̓ (PASS.1) turns primary objects into subjects; –ayu (PASS.2) promotes secondary objects; –ʔas (PASS.LOC) promotes locations; and -ɬ (PASS.EXP) promotes mental, emotional and sensory experiencers into subject position. (Levine 1980a; Levine 1980b; Rosenblum 2015)



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43.5 How Wakashan languages sound This section describes the sounds of Wakashan languages without the benefit of recordings, so we rely on technical terms that describe where sounds are produced in the mouth and throat, how they manipulate airflow and breath, and other qualities of the music and rhythm of speech. These technical terms are bolded in the text and defined in the glossary. Recordings of several Wakashan languages can be heard on the First Voices website, https://www.firstvoices.com/.

43.5.1 Phonemes Linguists look for minimal pairs to identify meaningful phonemic contrasts in a sound system: pairs of words for which a change in only one aspect of the sound implies a change in meaning. Different languages have different sets of meaningful contrasts, and thus different sound systems or phonologies.

43.5.1.1 Consonants Wakashan languages have large inventories of consonants; Kwak̕wala, for example, has 42 consonants, in contrast with the 24 consonants in a Standard North American English inventory. Among these consonants there are many sounds produced using the back of the mouth and throat such as /k/, /q/, /x/, /ʕ/, /ʔ/;18 many lateral ‘l’-like sounds such as /ɬ/, /λ/, /ƛ/ or /ƛ̓/; and many types of stops which catch or interrupt breath. Glottal stops and glottalization are prominent features in all of the languages. There are parallel sets of plain and ejective (glottalized) stops (/p/ and /p̓/, /t/ and /t̕/, /k/ and /k̓/, /q/ and /q̓/) and affricates (/c/ and /c̓/, /ƛ/ and /ƛ̓/). Velar and uvular stops and fricative phonemes such as /k/, /k̓/, /q/, /q̓/, /g/, /ǧ/, /x/ and /χ/ have labialized counterparts that combine the stop with ́ a ‘w’ sound: /kʷ/, /k̓ʷ/, /qʷ/, /q̓ʷ/, /xʷ/, /χʷ/. The Southern languages also have additional consonants in their inventory that Northern languages lack, such as sibilants /s/ and /š/, and pharyngeal /ʕ/ (Werle 2010). Northern languages also have parallel sets of plain and glottalized sonorant sounds: /m/ and /m̓/, /n/ and /n̓/, /l/ and /l̕/, /w/ and /w̓/, and /y/ and /y̓/. Among the Southern languages, nuučaan̓uł languages do not have /l/ or /l̕/, but have plain and glottalized glides (/w/, /w̓/, /y/, /y̓/) and plain and glottalized nasals /m/, /m̓/, /n/ and /n̓/, although there is

18 In this section, the sounds are written in the Americanist IPA orthography, rather than in any specific community orthography. Phonemes are bracketed by forward-slash characters: /k/, /k̓/, /kʷ/.

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variation from one village to another. qʷi·qʷi·diččaq and diitiidʔaaʔtx̣ do not have nasal consonants /m/ and /n/19 (Werle 2010). Listening to audio files is helpful for both silent speakers and new learners (Taff 2009), and some software and tools can also help speakers understand where and how these sounds are produced (Bird, Claxton, Percival et al. 2019).

43.5.1.2 Vowels Wakashan languages sound as though they have many vowels. Boas’s initial descriptions used as many as 13 characters to represent the vowels he heard in Fort Rupert (Kwak̕wala), Rivers Inlet ('Uik̓ala), Kitimat (X̄a’islak̓ala-X̄enaksialak̓ala), and Bella Bella (Híɫzaqvḷa) (Boas 1911). We understand now that languages have small inventories of vowels, some even as few as three: /i/, /a/, and /u/. Nevertheless, these few vowels sound very different in different contexts, because how vowels are pronounced, and how they sound to listeners, is very much affected by surrounding consonants (allophonic variation as described by Howe 2000, Werle 2010, inter alia). In Southern languages, for example, a pharyngeal fricative /ḥ/ lowers both preceding and following vowels. This is apparent in the phonetic transcription of the vowels in the words below, where pharyngeal /ʔ/ and /ḥ/ lowers the following vowels: long high /i∙/to /e∙/, short /i/ to /ɛ/, and /u/ to /ə/. (54)

Effect of ḥ on surrounding vowels, in Tseshaht nuučaan̓uł (Davidson 2002:14, quoting Sapir 1924: 83, note 3) /ʔatḥi∙/ [ʔatḥe:] ‘night’ [ḥɛs] ‘blood’ /ḥis-/ /ḥus-/ [ḥɔs] ‘salt water’

The table below shows how the three Kyuquot vowels /i/, u/, and /a/ sound 18 different ways when adjacent to certain consonants. (55)

Back consonants affecting neighboring vowels, in Kyuquot nuučaan̓uł (Rose 1981) Phoneme Basic č  k  kʷ q  qʷ ʕ  ʔ  /i/ I  i  i  I> ɛ  ɛ  ɛv I< /u/ ʋ  ʋ< ʋ< ʋ^ ɔ^ ɔ^ ɔ> ʋ^ /a/ a~ɑ ɛ> ɛ> ^ > ɑ  ^> ɑ> ɑ 

Noticing how consonants affect vowel pronunciation in Wakashan languages can help language learners hear and produce certain consonant distinctions. For example, in

19 In contrast with a common expectation that all languages have some type of nasal consonant /m/ or /n/ (Kinkade, 1985, Sylak-Glassman 2014).



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Kwak̕wala, a front (velar) x is recognized by a ‘y’ sound and raising on the following vowel, while the back (uvular) x̱ lowers the following vowel. Southern Wakashan languages all have short and long vowels. (56)

Contrastive length, in Tseshaht nuučaan̓uł (Davidson 2002: 13)   Front Central Back High i i∙   u u∙ Mid e e∙   o o∙ Low   a ɑ∙  

 

Short vowel taɬ.- ‘undried, fresh’ ti‘wipe’ siq‘get cooked’ tuk.- ‘mass of small round ‘objects strewn about’ sut‘you (sg.)’

Long vowel ta∙ł ‘warmed’ ti∙‘sink under water’ si∙q- ‘stick-like object gets pushed along’ tu∙k- ‘planted, planting’ su∙t-

‘(to) drill’

‘Uik̓ala is the only Northern language with a contrast between short and long vowels (Werle 2010). Neighboring Híɫzaqvḷa has high and low tone vowels, sometimes in words with a short–long contrast in 'Uik̓ala. (57)  

Contrastive tone, in Híɫzaqvḷa (Kortlandt 1973) k̓ʷás ‘mussels’ k̓ʷàs ‘sit outside’

Tone in Híɫzaqvḷa, like length in other Wakashan languages, is thought to be historically related to the way glottal sounds affect adjacent vowels (cf. Wilson 1987, Kingston 2011). Long vowels can also result from contraction of sonorants. In diitiidʔaaʔtx̣, glottalized resonants /w/ and /y/ are ‘absorbed’ into a preceding short vowel, creating a long vowel, a process which does not occur in neighboring Tseshaht. (58)  

Contraction of resonants leads to lengthening, in Tseshaht nuučaan̓uł and diitiidʔaaʔtx̣ (Haas 1969:117) NCN cuw̓it Dt cuuwit ‘coho salmon’

'Uik̓ala has words without vowels, a feature it shares with its Salish neighbor Nuxalk. (59)

Words without vowels, in ‘Uik̓ala (Howe 2000:12, Hilda Smith) k̓ʷχk̓ʷq̓s ‘just about daylight, early dawn (as when one begins to see one’s way t̕xt̕k̓ʷs ƛxƛk̓s

outdoors’ ‘fish hawk’ ‘plural of: round and/or bulky thing (e.  g. a boulder) in the woods or on the field (same word used in Híɫzaqvḷa for strawberry)

In Hiłzaqvḷa, some related words have a short central schwa vowel between consonants.

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Words with schwa nuclei, in Híɫzaqvḷa (Howe 2000: 12, quoting Lincoln & Rath 1980:31) t̕əxt̕ək̓ʷəs ‘fish hawk’

Schwa, written ə in some orthographies, and as a̱ , e, or u in other systems, is a prominent feature of several Wakashan vowel inventories. In some orthographies, schwa is not written, because it follows predictable patterns, such as insertion between consonants. However, these patterns are not always obvious; writing the schwa symbol can help learners know how to pronounce what they read.

43.5.2 Stress patterns Each word has one primary stress. Stress patterns in Wakashan languages is quite distinct from English stress patterns. Stress patterns in Wakashan languages interact with vowel weight or length, sonority, glottalization, schwa, resonance, and other acoustic and phonological features (Boas 1947, Bach 1975, Wilson 1986, Zec 1988, Werle 2010, Shaw 2009, inter alia). In Kwak̓wala, full vowels and schwa followed by sonorous consonant codas such as /m/ or /n/ attract stress, while other vowels do not unless accompanied by certain consonants. In words with no full vowels and only schwa, the last syllable, rather than the first, attracts stress. (61)  

Default-to-opposite stress, in Kʷak̓ʷala (Shaw 2008a: passim; speakers BL, PMH, LH) w̓ánap ‘game,’ ‘hide and seek’ p̓əƛá ‘airplane’ wəƛəlá ‘to hear’ nəpbə́s ‘always throwing rocks’ cəGə́ɬ ‘thimbleberry’ cəGəɬm̓ə́s ‘thimbleberry plant’

Knowing where to pronounce stress in a word helps learners sound fluent, but stress and intonation are often unconscious aspects of language. Spending time with speakers and listening to recordings helps develop an intuitive ear. It can be difficult to learn stress patterns from written documentation, but some orthographies do mark stress, and this can also be useful.

43.5.3 Syllable structure As mentioned before, syllable structure in Wakashan languages follows a CVC pattern: a single initial onset consonant, a single vowel, and between 0 and 4 consonants at the



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coda or end of the syllable (Wilson 1978). This structure is sometimes called the phonotactics of a language. (62)  

Syllable Coda: CVCCCC, in diitiidʔaaʔtx̣ (Werle 2010: 14) hiič̓qƛsʔaa ‘headlamp’

Consonant clusters at syllable codas contribute to the distinctive sound of Wakashan languages.

43.5.4 Sound changes resulting from combining morphemes Adding a morpheme can affect pronunciation in various ways. Above we described how suffixes trigger stem expansion and reduplication. They can also trigger sound changes like vowel insertion (epenthesis) and deletion (syncope and apocope), as well as vowel lengthening or shortening. In addition, Wakashan suffixes fall into three classes according to how they affect the final consonant of the previous morpheme: ‘neutral’ suffixes do not affect the preceding coda consonant; ‘hardening’ suffixes make preceding consonant sounds ‘harder,’ often by adding glottalization; and ‘softening’ suffixes remove glottalization or otherwise reduce consonant strength. These categories are specific to Wakashan languages, and they are simply a lexical property of each suffix. (63)  

Effects of Kwak̕wala suffixes on root (Boas 1947:321, 336) root nəp    ‘throw stones’ neutral -bəs ‘fond of’ nəpbə́s ‘fond of throwing stones’ ̓ hardening -!ala ‘to join in’ nánapala ‘to join in throwing stones’ softening =20ala ‘to do in return’ nánabala ‘to throw round thing back’

The tables below illustrate neutral, hardening, and softening effects in Northern and Southern languages.  

Stops & Affricates

Fricatives

Resonants

Neutral (C) Hardening (C-’) Softening (C=)

p t c ƛ k kʷ q qʷ p̓ t̕ c̓ ƛ̓ k̓ k̓ʷ q̓ q̓ʷ b d dᶻ λ g gʷ ǧ ǧʷ

s s ɬ x xʷ χ χʷ c̓ y̓ l̕ n̓ w̓ χ(ʔ) w̓ dᶻ y l n w χ(ʔ) w

m m̓ m̓

1

2

n l w y n̓ l̕ w̓ y̓ n̓ l̕ w̓ y̓

Fig. 5: Northern Wakashan: Changes to coda consonants, in X̄a’islak̓ala-X̄enaksialak̓ala (Bach & Shaw 2009)

20 Various symbols have been used to mark these categories. Boas (1947) represented hardening suffixes with a [!] and softening suffixes with a [=] instead of a hyphen. Werle (2010) proposed [-’] for hardening suffixes and [-°] for softening suffixes, reserving [=] for clitic boundaries.

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Stops & Affricates

Fricatives

Resonants

Neutral (C) Hardening (C-’) Softening (C=)

p t c č ƛ k kʷ q qʷ p̓ t̕ c̓ č̓ ƛ̓ k̓ k̓ʷ ʕ ʕ (no change)

s1 s2 ɬ š x xʷ ḥ ḥʷ sʔ y̓ y̓ y̓  – w̓ hʔ w̓ y y y y –  –  – w

m n m̓ n̓ l̕ my ny

Fig. 6: Southern Wakashan: Changes to coda consonants, in Tseshaht nuučaan̓uł (Sapir & Swadesh 1939; Rose 1976)

43.5.5 Orthographies Although many language reclamation efforts center on the importance of teaching and learning spoken language, written language can be an important support for language teaching and learning. Several writing systems, or orthographies, are used for Wakashan languages. They were created by various stakeholders with differing agendas: 18th-century colonists, 19th-century missionaries, 20th-century anthropologists and academic linguists, 21st-century collaborative teams of community-based researchers working with linguists, and language teachers of each era along the way. Each orthography represents the needs of the audience for whom it was created, or a belief about what those needs are, as well as the historical, social, and cultural moment at which it emerged. Each Wakashan language has had multiple orthographies, some of which are no longer used except in research contexts. In each community, dedicated researchers have drawn on archival materials and legacy documentation to serve the reclamation of language and culture. Five commonly used alphabets for writing Kwak̕wala are represented below. U’mista Grubb Liq̓ʷala IPA Boas U’mista

a  a  a  a  a, ā g̱w

a̱ e  ə  ə,a,I,ʊ E,ă,î,ŭ h 

b  b  b  b  b  i 

d  d  d  d  d  k 

dł dl λ  dl Ḷ kw

dz dz dᶻ dz dz k̓

e  eh e  ɛ, e ä, ê k̓w

g  g  g  ɡj g∙ ḵ

gw gw gʷ gʷ gw, gu ḵw

g̱ g̱ ǧ  G  g̱ ḵ̓

Grubb Liq̓ʷala IPA Boas

g̱w ǧʷ Gʷ g̣w, g̣u

h  h  h  h 

i  i  i,e i, i, e, e, e

k  k  kj k∙

kw kʷ kʷ kw, ku

k̕ k̓ k̕j k∙!

kw ̕ k̓ʷ k̕ʷ k!w, k!u

ḵ q  q  q 

ḵw qʷ qʷ qw,qu

ḵ̕ q̓

q̕ q!

Fig. 7: 5 Commonly used alphabets, in Kwak̓wala (Nicolson & Werle 2009)

Knowledge of older writing systems enables access to legacy descriptions and documentation in older publications and archival repositories.



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43.6 Resources and technologies Many Wakashan languages have extensive catalogues of multimedia documentation to draw on for the purposes of language reclamation and revitalization. Most of these resources have been created within, by, and for communities: curricula, books, audio and video materials, photographs, maps of territories, dictionaries, immersion scripts. Some materials are listed in glottolog (https://glottolog.org/resource/languoid/ id/waka1280); others are available from the communities who created them. Bibliographies of Wakashan languages encompass dictionaries, grammars, and texts created in the languages dating back to the 18th century, as well as research and analysis focused on narrow questions. All of these materials, translated into non-technical terms, can be resources for language teaching and learning (cf. Bach 2001). Community-based researchers, along with university partners, are using new technologies to support the development of teaching tools, and to increase access to legacy resources. First Voices provides apps and keyboards to allow typing in Indigenous languages on mobile and other devices (https://www.firstvoices.com/). The Heiltsuk Language and Culture Mobilization Partnership focuses on updating fonts and creating accessible content management systems for teachers and learners of Híɫzaqvḷa. Additional partnerships are focused on the use of machine learning to support the development of optical character recognition for legacy orthographies (Rijhwani et al. 2021) and the development of speech-to-text automated transcription to provide greater access to untranscribed legacy audio and video recordings (Kuhn et al. 2020). As is true across Indigenous North America, many of the communities within the Wakashan language family have been, and continue to be, deeply impacted by ongoing colonial policies which separate people from each other and from their languages and land. Language reclamation work is thus inherently a process of creativity, decolonization, and healing (Leonard 2017). In the territories where the ancestors and descendants of speakers live, language learners and teachers continue to ensure that the languages of this family are spoken, heard, understood, and shared, and will be for generations to come.

References Amrhein, Hannah, Suzanne Gessner, Tracey Herbert, Deanna Daniels (Xway’Waat), Megan Lappi, Doug Hamilton-Evans & Alex Wadsworth. 2010. Report on the Status of B.C. First Nations Languages 2010. Brentwood Bay, BC: First Peoples’ Cultural Council. Retrieved from http://www.fpcc.ca/files/PDF/2010report-on-the-status-of-bc-first-nations-languages.pdf Anderson, Stephen R. 2005. Aspects of the theory of clitics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bach, Emmon. 2000. Building words in Haisla. In Elena Benedicto (ed.), University of Massachusetts Occasional Papers in Linguistics 26(1). 51–73. https://scholarworks.umass.edu/umop/vol26/iss2/5 (accessed January 20, 2022).

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Bach, Emmon. 2002. On the surface verb qˈayˈaiˈqela. Linguistics and Philosophy 25. 531–544. Bach, Emmon. 2009. Building words in Haisla. Unpublished manuscript. Bach, Emmon, & Patricia A. Shaw. 2009. Wakashan Languages. Course handout. Berkeley: LSA Summer Institute. Berman, Judith. 1990. Notes on shape-classification in Kwak’wala. Papers for the 25th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages. University of British Columbia ms. https://lingpapers.sites.olt. ubc.ca/files/2018/03/1990_Berman.pdf (accessed January 24, 2022). Bird, Sonya, Sonya Charlie, Rae Anne Claxton, Swutthus Harvey George, Maida Percival, Sq’utxulenuxw George Seymour. 2019. Seeing speech: Teaching and learning Hul’q’umi’num’ pronunciation with Praat. Paper presented at the 6th International Conference on Language Documentation and Conservation (ICLDC), University of Hawai’i, Manoa. http://hdl.handle.net/10125/44785 (accessed January 22, 2022). Boas, Franz. 1934. Geographical names of the Kwakiutl Indians. Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology, 20. New York: Columbia University Press. http://catalog.hathitrust.org/ Record/000559417 (retrieved May 16, 2013). Boas, Franz. 1948. Kwakiutl dictionary. Edited by Helene Boas Yampolsky. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. Ms. Boas, Franz, Helene Boas Yampolsky & Zellig S. Harris. 1947. Kwakiutl grammar with a glossary of the suffixes. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, new series, 37.3. 203–377. Cranmer, Laura Ann. 2015. Reclaiming Kwak’wala through co-constructing G̱wa̱nti’lakw’s vision. Vancouver: University of British Columbia dissertation. Daehnke, Jon D. 2019. A heritage of reciprocity: Canoe revitalization, cultural resilience, and the power of protocol. The Public Historian 41(1). 64–77. Dangeli, Mique’l. 2015. Dancing sovereignty: Protocol and politics in Northwest Coast First Nations dance. Vancouver: University of British Columbia dissertation. Davidson, Matthew. 2002. Studies in Southern Wakashan (Nootkan) grammar. Buffalo: State University of New York at Buffalo dissertation. Dunlop, Britt, Suzanne Gessner, Tracey Herbert & Aliana Parker. 2018. Report on the Status of B.C. First Nations Languages. 3d. edn. Brentwood Bay, BC: First Peoples’ Cultural Council. Retrieved from http://www. fpcc.ca/files/PDF/FPCC-LanguageReport-180716-WEB.pdf Evans, Nicholas. 2007. Insubordination and its uses. In Irina Nicolaeva (ed.), Finiteness: Theoretical and empirical foundations, 366–431. Oxford: Oxford University Press. First Peoples’ Heritage, Language and Culture Council. First Peoples’ Language Map of British Columbia. https://fpcc.ca/first-peoples-map (accessed July 15, 2020). First Peoples’ Heritage, Language and Culture Council. “FirstVoices.” www.firstvoices.ca (accessed July 15, 2020). Flynn, Darin M. 2002. Alignment in Nootkan prosodic morphology. University of Alberta colloquium handout, February 15, 2002. Fortescue, Michael. 2006. The origins of the Wakashan classificatory verbs of location and handling. Anthropological Linguistics 48(3). 266–287. Galois, Robert. 2012 [1994]. Kwakwa̱ka̱’wakw settlements, 1775–1920: A geographical analysis and gazetteer. With contributions by Jay Powell & Gloria Cranmer Webster (on behalf of the U’mista Cultural Centre, Alert Bay, BC). Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. Gessner, Suzanne, Tracey Herbert, & Aliana Parker 2018. Recognizing the diversity of BC’s First Nations languages. Brentwood Bay, BC: First Peoples’ Cultural Council. Retrieved from http://www.fpcc.ca/ files/PDF/Language/Legislation/DiversityOfBCLanguages-February2018.pdf Gessner, Suzanne, Tracey Herbert, Aliana Parker, Britt Thorburn & Alex Wadsworth. 2014. Report on the status of B.C. First Nations languages 2014. 2nd edn. Brentwood Bay: First Peoples’ Cultural Council. http:// www.fpcc.ca/files/PDF/Language/FPCC-LanguageReport-141016-WEB.pdf (accessed January 20, 2022).



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Grubb, David McC. 1977. A practical writing system and short dictionary of Kwakw’ala (Kwakiutl). (Canadian Ethnology Service Paper 34). Ottawa, ON: National Museums of Canada. Haas, Mary R. 1969. Stem extenders in Nootka-Nitinat. Papers for the 4th International Conference on Salish Languages. University of Victoria. Unpublished manuscript. Haas, Mary R. 1972. The structure of stems and roots in Nootka-Nitinat. International Journal of American Linguistics 38(2). 83–92. Howe, Darin. 2000. Oowekyala segmental phonology. Vancouver: University of British Columbia dissertation. Jacobsen, William H., Jr. 1979. Noun and verb in Nootkan. In Barbara S. Efrat (ed.), The Victoria Conference on Northwestern Languages, 83–155. British Columbia Provincial Museum Heritage Record no. 4. Victoria, BC: British Columbia Provincial Museum. Jacobsen, William H. Jr. 1986. The heterogeneity of evidentials in Makah. In Wallace Chafe (ed.), Evidentiality: The linguistic coding of epistemology, 3–28. Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Kess, Joseph Francis & Anita Copeland Kess. 1986. On Nootka baby talk. International Journal of American Linguistics 52(3). 201–211. Kim, Eun-Sook & Rachel Wojdak. 2002. A survey of Nuu-chah-nulth reduplication. In Carrie Gillon, Naomi Sawai & Rachel Wojdak (eds.), Papers for the 37th International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 189–202.Vancouver, BC: University of British Columbia Working Papers in Linguistics. Kinkade, M. Dale. 1985. More on nasal loss on the Northwest Coast. International Journal of American Linguistics 51. 478–480. Kingston, John. 2011. Tonogenesis. In Marc van Oostendorp, Colin J. Ewen, Elisabeth V. Hume, & Keren Rice, The Blackwell Companion to Phonology, 2304–2333. Oxford: Blackwell. https://doi. org/10.1002/9781444335262.wbctp0097 Kirchner, Jessica L. S. 2010. Minimal reduplication. Santa Cruz: University of California at Santa Cruz, dissertation. Kirchner, Jessica L. S. 2020 (2007). Cleaning up the scraps: A new look at Kwak’wala -m’u:t reduplication. (Phonology at Santa Cruz 7). Santa Cruz, CA: Linguistics Research Center. https://escholarship.org/uc/ item/7f21f6d0 (accessed January 22, 2022). Klokeid, Terry J. 1976. Encliticization in Nitinaht. In Carol M. Eastman & Robert L. Welsch (eds.), Papers for the 11th International Conference on Salish Languages, 221–246. University of Washington ms., 1978. Seattle: Department of Anthropology, University of Washington. Kortlandt, F. H. H. 1973. Tones in Wakashan. Dutch Contributions to the 8th International Conference on Salish Languages. Leiden: University of Leiden. Republished 1975. Linguistics 146. 31–34. Kuhn, Roland, Fineen Davis, Alain Désilets, Eric Joanis, Anna Kazantseva, Rebecca Knowles, Patrick Littell, Delaney Lothian, Aidan Pine, Caroline Running Wolf, Eddie Santos, Darlene Stewart, Gilles Boulianne, Vishwa Gupta, Owennatékha Brian Maracle, Akwiratékha’ Martin, Christopher Cox, Marie-Odile Junker, Olivia Sammons, Delasie Torkornoo, Nathan Thanyehténhas Brinklow, Sara Child, Benoît Farley, David Huggins-Daines, Daisy Rosenblum, & Heather Souter. 2020. The Indigenous languages technology project at NRC Canada: An empowerment-oriented approach to developing language software.” In Donia Scott, Nuria Bel, Chengqing Zong (eds.), Proceedings of the 28th International Conference on Computational Linguistics (COLING 2020), online, Dec. 8–13, 2020. Retrieved from the ACL Anthology at https://www.aclweb.org/anthology/2020.coling-main.516/.  Ḵwiḵwasut’inux̱w Ha̱x̱wa’mis First Nation. (n.d.). Kwak’wala learning modules. Unpublished manuscript. Alert Bay, BC. Lagis, Beverly & Daisy Sewid Smith (speakers) & Patricia A. Shaw (instructor). 2008. Notes from InField Practicum Course Kwak̕wala. Santa Barbara: University of California at Santa Barbara, Institute on Field Linguistics and Language Documentation. July 2008. Levine, Robert D. 1980a. On the lexical origin of the Kwakwala passive. International Journal of American Linguistics 46(4). 240–258.

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Levine, Robert D. 1980b. Passives and controllability in Kwakwala. Papers for the 15th International Conference on Salish Languages. University of British Columbia manuscript, 37–71. Republished 1981 in Glossa: An International Journal of Linguistics 14 (2). 139–167. Lincoln, Neville J. & John C. Rath. 1980. North Wakashan comparative root list. (Canadian Ethnology Service Paper 68). Ottawa, ON: National Museums of Canada. Littell, Patrick, 2016. Focus, predication and polarity in Kwakwala. Vancouver: University of British Columbia ̕ dissertation. Malchukov, Andrej, Martin Haspelmath & Bernard Comrie. 2010. Ditransitive constructions: A typological overview. In Andrej Malchukov, Martin Haspelmath & Bernard Comrie (eds.), Studies in Ditransitive Constructions: A Comparative Handbook, 1–64. Berlin: DeGruyter Mouton. McKechnie, Iain. 2015. Indigenous oral history and settlement archaeology in Barkley Sound, Western Vancouver Island. BC Studies: The British Columbian Quarterly 187. 193–228. Mithun, Marianne. 1999. Languages of Native North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mithun, Marianne. 2007. Integrating approaches to diversity: Argument structure on the Northwest Coast. In Yoshiko Matsumoto, David Oshima, Orrin Robinson & Peter Sells (eds.), Diversity in language, 9–36. Stanford, CA: Center for the Study of Language and Information. Mithun, Marianne. 2008. The extension of dependency beyond the sentence. Language 84(1). 69–119. Nakayama, Toshihide. 2017. Polysynthesis in Nuuchahnulth, a Wakashan language. In Michael Fortescue, Marianne Mithun & Nicholas Evans (eds.), The Oxford handbook of polysynthesis, 603–622. Oxford: Oxford University Press. https://www.oxfordhandbooks.com/view/10.1093/ oxfordhb/9780199683208.001.0001/oxfordhb-9780199683208-e-35 (accessed January 20, 2022). Nakayama, Toshihide. 2002. Nuuchahnulth (Nootka) morphosyntax. Berkeley: University of California Press. Nakayama, Toshihide & George Louie. 2003. George Louie’s Nuu-chah-nulth (Ahousaht) texts with grammatical analysis. (Endangered Languages of the Pacific Rim Publications Series, A2-028.) Osaka: ELPR. Nakayama, Topshihide & Caroline Little. 2003. Caroline Little’s Nuu-chah-nulth (Ahousaht) texts with grammatical analysis. (Endangered Languages of the Pacific Rim Publications Series, A2-027). Osaka: ELPR. Nichols, Johanna. 1992. Linguistic diversity in space and time. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Nicolson, Deanna. 2017. Ikawegi’lakw. (The) maker of good things. Victoria, BC: University of Victoria M.Ed. thesis. Nicolson, G̱wi’molas Ryan Silas Douglas. 2019. “Playing the hand you’re dealt”: An analysis of Musg̱a̱makw Dzawada̱’enux̱w traditional governance and its resurgence. Victoria, BC: University of Victoria M.A. thesis. http://hdl.handle.net/1828/11535 (accessed January 20, 2022). Nicolson, M. 2005. Moving forward while looking back: A Kwakwa̱ka̱’wakw concept of time as expressed in language and culture. Victoria, BC: University of Victoria M.A. thesis. Nicolson, M. 2014. “Yaxa uḱwine’, yaxa gukw, dłuwida awińagwis: The body, the house, and the land”: The conceptualization of space in Kwakwaka’wakw language and culture. Victoria, BC: University of Victoria dissertation. Nicolson, Marianne & Adam Werle. 2009. An investigation of modern Kwak’wala determiner systems. University of Victoria, unpublished ms. Noahedits. n.d. CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/ commons/7/7a/Wakashan_map.svg https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wakashan_map.svg. This file was derived from: Canada British Columbia location map.svg Names adapted from: https://royalbcmuseum.bc.ca/assets/34Languages-List-Final.pdf Locations adapted from: Turner, Nancy J., 1997. rapports entre les plantes et les animaux das les langues et les cultures amérindiennes de la Côte-Ouest. Recherches Amérindiennes au Québec 27. “Le Fruit De L’Ours” https://



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www.researchgate.net/profile/Cheryl_Lans/publication/305038646/figure/fig2/AS:386269457731586 @1469105223566/Languages-of-British-Columbia-First-Nations-Prepared-by-Turner-1997.png http:// www.paabo.ca/uirala/uini-seagoingskinboats_files/WakashanMap.jpg. University of British Columbia Museum of Anthropology https://trekmagazine.alumni.ubc.ca/files/2014/11/First-Nations-Languagesof-British-Columbia.png Paul, Larry, Angela Galligos, Chuutsqa Rorick, & others in the Hesquiaht Language Program. N.d. ʔiqḥmuutniš – We’re still the same as we were in the beginning of time. Hesquiaht Language Program. http://www.hesquiahtlanguage.org/ (accessed December 1, 2021). ̓ ̓ aaqsapa Powell, Jay (ed.). 1991. Our world our ways: Taat cultural dictionary. Port Alberni, BC: Nuu-chah-nulth Tribal Council. ̓ Powell, Jay, Vickie Jensen, Agnes Cranmer & Margaret Cook. 1981. Learning Kwakwala Series (Books 1–13). Alert Bay, BC: U’mista Cultural Society. Rath, John C. 1981. A practical Heiltsuk-English dictionary: With a grammatical introduction. (Canadian Ethnology Service Paper 75). Ottawa, ON: National Museums of Canada. Rijhwani, Shruti, Daisy Rosenblum, Antonios Anastasopoulos & Graham Neubig. 2021. Lexically aware semi-supervised learning for OCR post-correction. Transactions of the Association for Computational Linguistics 9. 1285–1302. doi: https://doi.org/10.1162/tacl_a_00427 Rosborough, T̕łat̕łaḵuł Patricia. 2012. Ḵa̓ ̱ ngex̱tola sewn-on-top: Kwak’wala revitalization and being Indigenous. Vancouver: University of British Columbia dissertation. Rosborough, Trish. 2019. First words: Trish Rosborough speaks Kwak’wala. CBC broadcast, Unreserved. February 5, 2019. https://www.cbc.ca/radio/unreserved/first-words-trish-rosborough-speaks-kwakwala-1.5005622 (accessed Nov. 1, 2020). Rosborough, Trish, Suzanne Urbanczyk & Chuutsqa Layla Rorick. 2017. Beautiful words: Enriching and Indigenizing Kwak’wala revitalization through understandings of linguistic structure. Canadian Modern Language Review 73(4). 425–437. Rose, Suzanne. 1976. Lenition and glottalization in Nootka. Victoria, BC: University of Victoria M.A. thesis. Rose, Suzanne. 1981. Kyuquot grammar. Victoria, BC: University of Victoria dissertation. Rosenblum, Daisy. 2010-present. Multimodal documentation of interactive speech in Kwak’wala. Collection ID: 0172-IGS0187. Endangered Language Archive. https://www.elararchive.org. Collection handle: http://hdl.handle.net/2196/00-0000-0000-000F-B63A-1. Speakers Lily Johnny, Beverly Lagis, Ernest Scow, Spruce Wamiss. Rosenblum, Daisy. 2015. A grammar of space in Kwak’wala. Santa Barbara: University of California at Santa Barbara dissertation. Sapir, Edward. 1924. The Rival Whalers: A Nitinat story (Nootka text with translation and grammatical analysis). International Journal of American Linguistics 3(1). 76–102. Sapir, Edward & Morris Swadesh. 1939. Nootka texts: Tales and ethnological narratives: With grammatical notes and lexical materials. Philadelphia: Linguistic Society of America. Sapir, Edward & Morris Swadesh. 1955. Native accounts of Nootka ethnography. Publications of the Indiana University Research Center in Anthropology, Folklore, and Linguistics 1. International Journal of American Linguistics 21(4). part 2. Sardinha, Katie. 2018. Deriving eventualities in Kwak’wala. In Marianne Huijsmans, Roger Lo, Oksana Tkachman & Daniel Reisinger (eds.), Papers for the 53rd International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 241–268. Vancouver, BC: University of British Columbia. Shaw, Patricia A. 2008a. InField Practicum Course in Kwak̕wala. Institute on Field Linguistics and Language Documentation. UC Santa Barbara, July 2008. Lagis, Beverly, and Daisy Sewid Smith, speakers. Unpublished notes and recordings. Shaw, Patricia A. 2008b. Some phonological properties of Kwak’wala. Kwak̕wala Practicum Course Materials, Institute for Field Linguistics and Language Documentation. University of California at Santa Barbara, July 2008.

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Shaw, Patricia A. 2009. Default-to-opposite stress: Quantity sensitivities in a default-to-right system. Presentation, LSA Summer Institute, Berkeley, CA. Stonham, John. 2004. Linguistic theory and complex words: Nuuchahnulth word formation. London: Palgrave MacMillan. Stonham, John. 2008. Domains in phonological theory: A case study from Nuuchahnulth. Journal of Language Sciences 15. 229–254. Stonham, John (ed.). 2005. A Concise dictionary of the Nuuchahnulth language of Vancouver Island. Lewiston, NY: The Edwin Mellen Press. Swadesh, Morris. 1938. Nootka internal syntax. International Journal of American Linguistics 9(2–4). 77–102. Swadesh, Morris. 1953. Mosan I: A problem of remote common origin. International Journal of American Linguistics 19(1). 26–44. Sylak-Glassman, J. 2013. The phonetic properties of voiced stops descended from historical nasals in Ditidaht. Presentation at the 87th Annual Meeting of the Linguistic Society of America, Boston, MA, January 3–6, 2013. Taff, Alice. 2009. Recording real conversations for language learning and analysis. Presentation at the International Conference on Language Documentation and Conservation, Unversity of Hawaii Manoa, Honolulu, March 12–14, 2009. Waldie, Ryan. 2004a. Modality and lexical suffixes in Nuu-chah-nulth. Handout. 1st Wakashan Linguistics Conference, Vancouver, University of British Columbia, August 9–11, 2004. Waldie, Ryan. 2004b. Nuu-chah-nulth denominal verbs. Victoria, BC, University of Victoria MA thesis. Werle, Adam. 2010. The Phonology of Wakashan Languages. Unpublished manuscript. Wilson, Peter J. 1978. Syllable structure in Kwakwala and Heiltsuk. Papers for the 13th International Conference on Salish Languages. University of Victoria manuscript, 275–299. Wilson, Stephen A. 1986. Metrical structure in Wakashan phonology. In Vassiliki Nikiforidou (ed.), Proceedings of the 12th Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society, 283–291. Berkeley, CA: Berkeley Linguistics Society. Wilson, Stephen A. 1987. The development of tone in Heiltsuq. In Jon Aske (ed.), Proceedings of the 13th Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society, 321–329. Berkeley, CA: Berkeley Linguistics Society. Windsor Wákas, Evelyn. 2007. Heiltsuk place names: A Wakashan perspective. In Kristín M. Johannsdóttir & Martin A. Oberg (eds.), Papers for the 42nd International Conference on Salish and Neighbouring Languages, 391–395.Vancouver, BC: University of British Columbia Working Papers in Linguistics. Zec, Draga. 1988. Sonority constraints on prosodic structure. Stanford, CA: Stanford University dissertation.

Honoré Watanabe

44 Salish

Abstract: The Salishan language family consists of 23 languages, most of them with further dialectal divisions. The family is situated in the present-day Canadian province of British Columbia and the U.S. states of Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and Montana. It has attracted interest from linguists since the early years of research on the indigenous languages of North America. The languages are well known for their phonetic and phonological complexity, with large numbers of consonants, and also for their rich morphology.

44.1 Introduction The Salish (or Salishan) language family consists of twenty-three languages, spoken (or formerly spoken) in the present-day province of British Columbia in Canada and the states of Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and Montana in the United States. The languages cover a large area in the Pacific Northwest, straddling the coastal mountain range.1 They are well known for the complexity in their sounds (phonetics and phonology) and in their elaborate ways of word building (morphology). These languages were already recognized as genetically related in Powell’s (1891:102–105) classification of the indigenous languages of North America. Table 1 shows (i) the main divisions within the family, the languages within each, and their dialects; (ii) the Indigenous names for each language (or dialect). Note that the indigenous designations are now being used increasingly by the Indigenous communities and linguists. The names in (i) are used in this chapter mainly for ease of comparison with previous studies on Salish. Note that the studies cited are not exhaustive but only representative. I have kept reference to those that are not readily available, such as conference handouts or unpublished manuscripts, to a minimum. None of the Salishan languages had written traditions. In recent decades, orthographies have been developed for most of them using roman letters or phonetic symbols. This is reflected in column (ii). It should be born in mind that the phonetic values of individual symbols differ among the orthographies for different languages; for example, 1 All Sliammon examples are from my own research unless otherwise indicated. I am grateful to my language consultants, the late Mrs. Mary George, the late Mrs. Marion Harry, the late Mrs. Agnes McGee, the late Mrs. Annie Dominick, and Mrs. Elsie Paul, and also to the Tla’amin (Sliammon) c­ ommunity. My research on Sliammon since 1990 has been supported by various agencies, most recently by the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science (KAKENHI, Grant Numbers 19H01253 and 19K21627). I also thank Kaoru Kiyosawa and the three editors of this volume for their comments on earlier versions of this chapter. Needless to say, I assume full responsibility for my analyses and any errors in the Sliammon data and also for any misunderstanding of data by other researchers in this chapter. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-044

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represents [š] in Lillooet (St’at’imcets), but [s] in Shuswap (Secwepemctsín), stands ͡ in Columbian (nxaʔamxčín). Most of the current orthographies for [x] in Lillooet, but [ts] were originally devised by linguists, but a notable exception is that of Saanich (Northern Straits). The SENĆOŦEN (Saanich) alphabet was created by Dave Elliott, Sr., a native speaker of the language, after learning and being dissatisfied with the phonetic alphabet and practical orthography devised by linguists. It uses capital letters combined with symbols ‘ ˊ / ˍ ˗’, e.  g., corresponds to č, and to θ (Montler 2018:xi–xiv). Tab. 1: The Salishan languages2  

(i) Branch/Language

(ii) Indigenous names

I.

Bella Coola

nuxalk

II.      

Coast Salish Branch3   Sliammon-Comox4   Comox (Island)   Sliammon-Homalco-Klahoose ­(Mainland)   Sechelt   Pentlatch   Squamish   Halkomelem   Chilliwack/Upriver   Musqueam/Downriver   Cowichan/Island   Northern Straits   Sooke   Saanich   Songhees/Songish   Semiahmoo   Samish   Lummi   Klallam   Nooksack   Lushootseed   Northern (Skagit, Snohomish)   Southern (Duwamish-Suquamish, Puyallup, Nisqually)   Twana   Quilcene   Skokomish

  ʔayʔaǰuθəm    

                                           

Shashishalhem (šášíšáɬəm) pənƛʼáč Skwxwú7mesh (sqʷx̣ʷúʔməš)   halqʼəméyləm hənʼqʼəmínʼəmʼ həlʼqʼəminʼəmʼ   T’Sou-ke SENĆOŦEN Lekwungen     Xwlemi’chosen nəxʷsƛʼáyʼəmʼucən Lhéchalosem (ɬə́čələsəm) dxʷləšúcid     sqʷuqʷúʔbəšq    

2 Table 1 is adopted from Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998:3, 64–68) and Davis (2020) with a few modifications. 3 The ‘Coast’ branch is also referred to as ‘Central’. 4 Sliammon-Comox is referred to in this chapter as Sliammon.

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Tab. 1 (continued)  

(i) Branch/Language

(ii) Indigenous names

III.                        

Tsamosan Branch                        

Quinault Queets Quinault Lower Chehalis Humptulips Wynochee Westport-Shoalwater Upper Chehalis Satsop Oakville Chehalis Tenino Chehalis Cowlitz

  kʷínayɬ     ɬəwʼálʼməš       qʼʷayʼáyiɬqʼ       sƛʼpúlmš

IV.    

Tillamook    

Tillamook Siletz

hutyéyu    

V.                                        

Interior Salish Branch Northern Lillooet Upper/Fountain/Fraser River   Lower/Mount Currie     Thompson Lytton/Canyon   Nicola Valley     Shuswap Western   Eastern   Southern Colville-Okanagan Northern/Lakes   Southern/Colville     Columbian (Moses Columbia) Columbia   Wenatchi     Spokane-Kalispel-Flathead Spokane   Kalispel   Montana Salish/Flathead     Coeur d’Alene

  St’át’imcets (šƛʼɛ́ƛʼəmxč)     Nlaka’pamux (nɬeʔkepmxcín)     Secwepemctsín (səxwəpməxcín)     nsilxcín     nxaʔamxčín       Npoqínišcn Qlʼispé Séliš Snchitsu’umshtsn (snčícuʔumšcn)

Linguists studying the Salish family generally agree in classifying the twenty-three languages into five subgroups: Bella Coola, Coast (Central) Salish, Interior Salish, Tsamosan, and Tillamook.

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The distinctness of Coast Salish and Interior Salish is quite clear; however, previous studies differ as regards the relations among the other subgroups, especially the place of Bella Coola and Tillamook. These two languages are much more divergent from the rest of the family, no doubt because of their geographical locations. They do not occupy contiguous areas but are surrounded by languages of different language families (Bella Coola by Athabaskan and Wakashan, and Tillamook by Chinookan, Takelman, Lower Columbia Athabaskan, and Alsean languages). Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998) and Kroeber (1999) consider the five subgroups to be on the same level of branching. This view has been adopted in Table 1. Thompson (1979a) considers Bella Coola to constitute a subgroup on its own, separate from the other languages, which are in turn grouped into Coast Salish, Tsamosan, and Interior Salish. Tillamook is classified in the Coast branch (but divergent from the other Coast languages). Kuipers (2002:9) argues that Bella Coola shares many features with the Coast languages and considers that the highest division is between the Interior branch and the rest of the languages (i.  e., Bella Coola, Coast, Tsamosan, and Tillamook). The latter is divided into Bella Coola, Central (Coast in Table 1), Tsamosan, and Tillamook. Davis (2020) considers the highest-level grouping to be Bella Coola, Interior Salish, and ‘Coast’ Salish, the last of which is subdivided into Central, Tsamosan, and Tillamook. It is also worth mentioning that in a recent paper on Proto-Salish phonology, van Eijk and Nater (2020:341) state in a footnote, “Nater considers Bella Coola to be related to other Salish, in descending order of closeness, as follows: […] most closely Tsamosan, then Central and Oregon Salish [i.  e., ‘Coast’ in Table 1 and Tillamook, respectively–H.W.], and then Interior Salish.” Each of the three branches, Coast, Tsamosan, and Interior, is distinguished by features not found beyond them; however, even within a branch, the languages are far from uniform. Within the Interior branch, a division between the Northern and the Southern languages is often observed. Swadesh (1950) studied the percentage of common ‘basic’ words shared among the languages. There are issues with the sources and methods he used, especially given that at that time reliable word lists were scarce; hence caution is necessary in evaluating his findings. Still, the numbers are remarkable; between the Coast and the Interior branches, the shared basic words are only around 10 to 25 %. As we will see in this chapter, even though the grammar has also diversified, they have remained recognizably similar. Unfortunately, there are no longer first language speakers of the following languages, according to Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998) and Davis (2020): Pentlatch, Nooksack, Twana, Klallam, all four Tsamosan languages, and Tillamook. Even among the languages still with speakers, some dialects have lost all speakers (e.  g., only Saanich and Samish are still spoken among the Northern Straits dialects, Davis 2020). All other languages have limited numbers of fluent speakers. Such a dire situation is the result of many complex issues that have arisen since the arrival of Europeans in North America; however, the residential school system has undoubtedly been the most devastating, and cruel, factor in the decline of these languages. Children were taken away from home at a very young age and placed in residential schools, often far from their

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traditional lands, and were forced to learn English. They were forbidden to speak their native language, and one word of it out of their mouths was met with severe corporal punishment. The number of speakers of a language is notoriously difficult to ascertain. Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998:64–67) provide the best estimates as of 1995. The largest number for a language is 500 (for Halkomelem, Thompson, Shuswap, and Colville-Okanagan, but the latter three are marked as questionable). Davis (2020) provides the estimated L1 speaker ages for each dialect. They are mostly marked as 80+ and 90+, meaning nearly all L1 speakers are over eighty and ninety, respectively. The variety with youngest L1 speakers appears to be the Northern/Lakes dialect of Okanagan, which is indicated as 60+. Revitalization efforts are, however, underway in many communities. See Davis (2020:454). The First Peoples’ Cultural Council initiated various revitalization projects, one of which is FirstVoices (https://www.firstvoices.com/), a web-based platform that provides First Nations’ languages of British Columbia in written and audio forms. It is limited to the languages spoken in the province, and the quality of the audio files varies, but it is notable that one can hear the actual sounds of these languages, including many Salishan languages. The history of research on Salish languages is divided into four periods in Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998:5–7). The first period began towards the end of 18th century, when explorers, traders, missionaries, and settlers recorded lexical items. In the 1830’s more data were collected in the interest of identifying and classifying the indigenous languages in North America. In the late 19th century, grammars and dictionaries of Salishan languages began to appear, though the authors were still untrained in linguistics. The second period began at the end of 19th century with Franz Boas and those he influenced or taught. Well-known names in American linguistics appear in Salishan studies of this period, among them Edward Sapir, John P. Harrington, and T. T. Waterman. In the 1930’s and 40’s, much more reliable grammatical descriptions appeared, for example, Reichard (1938) on Coeur d’Alene, Edel (1939) on Tillamook, and Vogt (1940a) on Kalispel. The third period began in the 1960’s when Laurence C. Thompson entered the scene. He conducted the Northwest survey, and together with his wife, M. Terry Thompson, worked on the Thompson language. He also supervised many linguists, many of whom were his students, and encouraged them to work on Salishan languages. This resulted in numerous grammars and dictionaries, for example, Carlson (1972) on Spokane, Mattina (1973) on Colville, and Montler (1986) on Saanich (Northern Straits). Also prominent in this period were M. Dale Kinkade’s work on Upper Chehalis (Kinkade 1963–64) and Aert Kuipers’ landmark grammar on Squamish (Kuipers 1967), which he followed with another detailed grammar on Shuswap (Kuipers 1974). The fourth period is a continuation of the third period, and many more comprehensive grammars, dictionaries, and text collections have appeared.

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Special mention should be made of the annual conference on Salishan languages. Under the leadership of Laurence C. Thompson (and M. Terry Thompson), the International Conference on Salish Languages began in 1965 and has been held annually. The name was changed to the International Conference on Salish and Neighbo(u)ring Languages (ICSNL) in 1982 to reflect the broader areal interest. The papers presented are considered working papers; however, they are highly valued. There have been over 900 papers to date (2022). Some have been revised and/or polished and subsequently published in major journals. There are also papers that never appeared in another venue but contain data on Salishan languages and dialects which are no longer spoken. The entire collection is now available online at the UBC Linguistics Department website (https://lingpapers.sites.olt.ubc.ca/icsnl-volumes/ last accessed on Feb. 10, 2022). Comparative studies on the Salish family have a long history, beginning with Boas and Haeberlin (1927). Vogt (1940b) compared 200 lexical items and analyzed sound correspondences in four Interior Salish languages (Kalispel, Spokane, Okanagan, and Coeur d’Alene). Reichard (1958–1960) conducted a comparison of five languages, Coeur d’Alene, Kalispel, Snoqualmie-Duwamish dialect of Lushootseed, Upper Chehalis, and Tillamook. Swadesh (1950) is a study of the internal relationships among the Salish languages, using his then newly developed glottochronology method. This work led to Swadesh (1952), a reconstruction of Proto-Salish sound system. This development in historical research is well summarized in Thompson (1979a:701–713); this work by Thompson then refined the earlier reconstruction in detail. Kuipers (1981, 2002:3–11) further refined Thompson (1979a). With an increase in the number and quality of descriptions of Salishan languages, finer historical studies on specific aspects of Salishan grammar have been published; for example, Kroeber (1999) on subordination, Davis (2000) on subject markers, and Davis (2005) on negative constructions. Possible genetic affiliations of Salish to other languages or language families have been explored. Sapir (1921, 1929) proposed that Salish is related to Wakashan and Chemakuan, two adjacent language families. This is referred to as the ‘Mosan Hypothesis.’ Sapir further grouped them with Algonquian, Ritwan (Wiyot and Yurok), Beothuk, and Kutenai, as ‘Algonquin-Wakashan’ in his attempt to reduce the North American languages into six ‘major linguistic groups’ (later referred to as ‘superstocks’ or ‘phyla’). In a series of studies, Swadesh (1949, 1953a, 1953b, 1953c) attempted to validate the hypothesis; it has, however, been refuted by later researchers (e.  g., Kuipers 1967:401–405; Thompson 1979a:748–750; Beck 2000). The features shared among the three language families are attributable to those of the Northwest Coast Sprachbund (for details, see, e.  g., Thompson and Kinkade 1990; Beck 2000). Morgan (1980a, 1980b, 1991:494–498) argues for a possible genetic connection of Kutenai, a language isolate, to Salish. This is not widely accepted; however, Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998:60) describe the attempt as “the only proposals to date with any promise of showing wider connections for Salish.”

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In the following sections basic characteristics of the Salishan languages are described. Emphasis is placed on their prominent features, particularly those of special interest not only to linguists but also language learners in the Native communities. It is, of course, not possible to cover the whole range of varieties of different features of Salish in a limited space. I draw heavily from Sliammon, on which I have firsthand experience working with native speakers, but I also discuss the characteristics found in other Salish languages.

44.2 Phonetics and phonology The Salishan languages are well known for their complex sounds (phonetics and phonology): elaborated consonant inventories, characterized by voiceless and glottalized obstruents, and plain and glottalized resonants.5 (The term ‘resonant’ is traditionally used in Salish linguistics to include not only what are referred to as ‘sonorants’ but also other consonants like pharyngeals, voiced velar segments (ɣ, ɣʼ), and, in some languages, ʔ and h, that pattern similarly.) The consonants include a series of laterals (l, lʼ, ɬ, ƛʼ, but notably not ƛ), contrasts between velar and uvular, plain and rounded obstruents (k, q, kʷ, qʷ, kʼʷ, qʼʷ, x, x̣, xʷ, x̣ʷ), and a series of pharyngeals (ʕ, ʕʷ, ʕʼ, ʕʼʷ). These features make Salish formidable for non-native speakers, even for trained linguists. They are not, however, shared equally among all twenty-three languages in the family; for example, pharyngeals are found only in the Interior branch. Vowel inventories, on the other hand, are very small, usually with only four vowels (a, i, u, ə).

5 The phonetic symbols used in this chapter are in the Americanist Phonetic Alphabet (APA), which are used in most works on Salish. The data cited in this chapter from previous studies have been converted to APA if they were written in different systems, orthographies of particular languages, and/or symbols. In most studies of Salish, clitics are written as separate elements (i.  e., with only a blank space between their host and clitics or between clitics) or are marked with an equal sign (=) or an underligature ( ‿ ). The equal sign is used in this chapter. I have changed the notation from affixes to clitics only when the clitic status is fairly obvious or when subsequent studies recognized them as clitics. I have also added and/or modified the segmentation and glosses of multi-morphemic words in some cases to match other examples in the present chapter. A tilde (~) indicates reduplication boundary, and angled brackets () indicate infix boundary. A plus sign (+) connects glosses of morphemes that marged as a single morph. The following abbreviations are used: 1 first person; 2 second person; 3 third person; a.intr active-intransitive; appl applicative; aug augmentative; caus causative; clt clitic; cnj conjunctive; conn connective; cont continuative; ctr control transitive; deic deictic; det determiner; dim diminutive; ep established in past; fut future; inc inceptive; indc indicative; int introductory; ipfv imperfective; loc locative; ltd limited; lv link vowel; mdl middle; nb nearby; neg negative; nmlz; nominalizer; ntr noncontrol transitive; obj object; obl oblique; pass passive; pfv perfective; pl plural; poss possessive; pst past; quot quotative; qn question; rcp reciprocal; rfl reflexive; rlt relational; rprt reportive; sbj subject; sg singular; stv stative; tr transitive; unr unrealized.

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Of course, it is not ideal to describe the sounds without the actual audio. Thanks to today’s technology, we can listen to how the Salishan languages sound on the internet. FirstVoices, mentioned in § 44.1, is such a website; it includes audio data of about ten Salishan languages spoken in British Columbia.

44.2.1 Consonants Table 2 provides a generalized consonant inventory in Salish, adopted from Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade 1998:7)6. Tab. 2: Generalized Salish consonant inventory (Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade 1998:7)

Plain

Rounded

Plain

Rounded

Glottal

    c  cʼ     (r) (rʼ)

Rounded

    t  tʼ s    n  nʼ

Pharyngeal

Plain

    p  pʼ     m  mʼ

Uvular

Alveo-palatal

Obstruents Stops/Affircates Plain Glottalized Fricatives Resonants Plain Glottalized

Velar

Lateral

Dental/ Alveolar Bilabial

 

      ƛʼ ɬ    l  lʼ

   

  y  yʼ

   

     

    kʷ kʼʷ xʷ   w  wʼ

    q  qʼ x̣      

    qʷ qʼʷ x̣ʷ      

            (ʕ) (ʕʼ)

            (ʕʷ) (ʕʼʷ)

    ʔ    h       

Most languages have either one of the two consonants in angled brackets on the same row in Table 2. This is a result of the historical fronting of *k, *k’, *x that took place in the majority of languages. Those that retained the unrounded velar obstruents are: Bella Coola, Tenino Chehalis, Lillooet, Thompson, Shuwap, Columbian, and Colville-Okanagan (Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade 1998:8–9). The rest of the Salishan languages fronted these to č, čʼ, š, and in some languages the fronting process went further (see below). Cowlitz and Tillamook are exceptional in having both series (Kinkade 1973; Egesdal and Thompson 1998). The consonants in parentheses occur only in the Interior branch; pharyngeals are found in all the Interior languages, and r, rʼ, which are articulated as tongue-tip flap or trill, occur only in Okanagan, Spokane, Coeur d’Alene, and Columbian. In addition to 6 From the table in the original source, I added the place and manner of articulation, moved the pharyngeals, which were placed in the same column as uvulars, to a separate column, and also placed parentheses around the six consonants that occur in a limited number of languages.

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the consonants in Table 2, several languages of the Interior branch also have so-called ‘retracted’ consonants that are pronounced with the tongue root retracted: ṣ, c̣, ḷ, ḷʼ, z, zʼ, r, r’.7 Colville and Spokane are the only languages with the consonant inventory as in Table 2 (Okanagan-Colville has the velar series, while Spokane has the alveo-palatal series). Thus, the inventory in Colville is as follows: p, t, c, k, kʷ, q, qʷ, ʔ, pʼ, tʼ, cʼ, ƛʼ, kʼ, kʼʷ, qʼ, qʼʷ, s, ɬ, x, xʷ, x̣, x̣ʷ, h, m, n, r, l, y, w, ʕ, ʕʷ, mʼ, nʼ, r’, lʼ, yʼ, wʼ, ʕʼ, ʕʼʷ (Mattina 1973:7). (See Carlson 1972:1 for Spokane.) All other languages diverge in their inventory, reflecting historical sound changes. The historical phonology of Salish has been quite well studied, and most historical sound shifts are well-established. For details, see Thompson (1979a), Galloway (1988) (on Coast Salish only), Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998:7–17, 50–53), Kroeber (1999:6–10), Kuipers (1981, 2002:x, 1–11). The following survey is based mostly on these studies. Only prominent sound changes and the resultant phonemic inventories of some languages are provided. The obstruents reconstructed for Proto-Salish are the same as those in Table 2, except that *k, *k’, *x are posited, instead of the alveo-palatal series (č, čʼ, š), which are a later development through fronting of the series (Thompson 1979a, Kuipers 1981). For the resonant series, there is disagreement on whether or not to posit *r and *r’ for Proto-Salish; Thompson (1979a:724) posits them but tentatively, stating that they may have developed from laterals. Kuipers (2002) and Kroeber (1999) consider that they developed from *l, *l’. The velar resonants ɣ, ɣʼ that are found only in Shuswap, Lillooet, Thompson, Northern Okanagan were posited for Proto-Salish in most previous studies on historical phonology (Thompson 1979a, Kuipers 2002, Kroeber 1999). In some Coast languages, the sound shifts by fronting went further than alveo-palatal for *k, *kʼ, *c, *c’, *x. The historical changes are as follows (For more details, see Galloway 1998, Kuipers 2002, Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade 1998:51, Thompson et al. 1974.): Northern Straits (except Saanich) and Klallam: *k > s/c, *k’ > c’, *c > s/c, *x > s; Saanich (Northern Straits): *k > s/θ, *k’ > tʼᶿ, *c > s/θ, *c’ > t’ᶿ, *x > s; Halkomelem *k > c, *k’ > c’, *c > θ, *c’ > tʼᶿ, *x > š (only in Cowichan; *x is retained as x in Upriver and Musqueam dialects); Sliammon (Mainland): *c’ > tʼᶿ, *c > θ; Pentlatch *c > θ. In addition, Halkomelem and Sliammon (Mainland dialect) have a very marginal non-glottalized tᶿ. In Sliammon, it appears only in two, but grammatically important, clitics: tᶿ=, the first person singular possessive and =tᶿəm, the first person singular indicative clitic for futures. (For rare instances of tᶿ in Musqueam Halkomelem, see Suttles 2004:4–5.) The Musqueam Halkomelem consonant inventory is as follows (Suttles 2004:3): p, (tᶿ), t, c, (č), (k), kʷ, q, qʷ, pʼ, tʼᶿ, tʼ, cʼ, ƛʼ, (kʼ), qʼ, qʼʷ, ʔ, θ, s, ɬ, (š), x, xʷ, x̣, x̣ʷ, h, m, n, l, y, w, mʼ,

7 Retraction is indicated by an under-dot on ṣ, c̣, ḷ, ḷʼ and vowels in Salishan studies. Their IPA equivalent symbols are: s̙ , c̙ , l̙ , l̙ ʼ.

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nʼ, lʼ, yʼ, wʼ. (The sounds in parentheses are marginal, and Suttles (2004:7–9) discusses issues with positing the glottalized resonants as phonemes.) At least some of the gaps in the inventories created by certain shifts (e.  g., *k, *k’, *x > č, čʼ, š) were later filled, typically through borrowing. For example, in Sliammon, which underwent the velar to alveo-palatal shift, k and kʼ must be posited as (marginal) phonemes that appear mostly in loanwords. Pharyngeal consonants are reconstructed for Proto-Salish but are retained only in Interior Salish. Kuipers (1981:324–325, 2002) argues that they have become uvular obstruents in Coast Salish and Bella Coola, though cognate sets are not abundant; for example, *ʕis ‘shrink’ is observed in Interior Salish as Lillooet ʕis, Thompson ʕism, Shuswap ʔʕis, and in Coast Salish as Sliammon x̣is-, Sechelt x̣is-, Squamish x̣isinʔtm (Kuipers 2002:134).8 Only in Columbian, pharyngeals (ʕ, ʕʷ) split into voiced and voiceless ones (ḥ, ḥʷ), giving the language a large consonant inventory, especially in post-velar positions: p, t, c, c̣, k, kʷ, q, qʷ, ʔ, pʼ, tʼ, cʼ, ƛʼ, kʼ, kʼʷ, qʼ, qʼʷ, s, ṣ, ɬ, x, xʷ, x̣, x̣ʷ, h, m, n, r, l, ḷ, y, ʕ, ʕʷ, ḥ, ḥʷ, mʼ, nʼ, rʼ, lʼ, ḷʼ, yʼ, ʕʼ, ʕʼʷ (Czaykowska-Higgins and Willett 1997). Tillamook has lost all labial consonants due to the changes of both *p and *p’ to h, and *m to w (which behaves as a velar consonant in Salish) and developed an unaspirated stop series (written as d, g, gʷ, ġ, ġʷ in Egesdal and Thompson 1998; the uvulars might be predictable allophones of qʼ and qʼʷ, respectively). Tillamook is one of only two languages in Salish with both an alveo-palatal series (č, čʼ, š) and a velar series (k, kʼ, x). These changes in Tillamook yield a consonant inventory as follows: t, c, č, k, kʷ, q, qʷ, ʔ, tʼ, ƛʼ, cʼ, čʼ, kʼ, kʼʷ, qʼ, qʼʷ, d, g, gʷ, (ġ, ġʷ), ɬ, s, š, x, xʷ, x̣, x̣ʷ, h, n, l, y, w, nʼ, lʼ, yʼ, wʼ (Egesdal and Thompson 1998:236). Voiced obstruents have developed in several languages: in three Coast languages, Sliammon (*y > ǰ, *w > g), Lushootseed (*m > b, *n > d, *y > dz, ǰ, *w > g, gʷ), Twana (*m > b, *n > d)9, and in one Interior language, Coeur d’Alene (*y > d, *ɣ > ǰ, *w > gʷ)10. As a result, the consonant inventory of Lushootseed is as follows: p, t, c, č, k, kʷ, q, qʷ, pʼ, tʼ, cʼ, ƛʼ, čʼ kʼ, kʼʷ, qʼ, qʼʷ, ʔ, b, d, dz (=dz), ǰ, g, gʷ, s, ɬ, š, xʷ, x̣, x̣ʷ, h, l, y, w, lʼ, yʼ, wʼ (Hess 1995:201). Sliammon is the only language in the Salish family that has the plain lateral affricate ƛ. Its presence is attributed to influence from the neighboring Wakashan languages. In Sliammon, the original *y and *w became ǰ and g, respectively, but they alternate with y and w in coda position (i.  e., before another consonant or word-boundary). Also, *l became y or w (the latter in rounded environment), and these resultant y and w do not alternate with ǰ and g. The lateral consonant l is limited in the present-day Sliammon 8 The Sliammon form is from my own research and the Sechelt form is from Beaumont (2011). Both forms are bound roots that mean ‘shrink, curl’. 9 Twana also has marginal voiced consonants dz, ǰ, g, gʷ in loanwords, many of which are from Lushootseed (Drachman 1969:28, 208). 10 Coeur d’Alene also has a marginal voiced consonant b, many of which are found in either loan or onomatopeic words and only in root-initial position (Doak 1997:11–12).

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and is found mostly in loanwords. The same applies to the corresponding glottalized segments. (Note that Vancouver Island dialect of this language does not have θ but only s.) The sound changes described yield the Sliammon (Mainland dialect) consonant inventory as follows (Watanabe 2003): p, (tᶿ), t, ƛ, č, (k), kʷ, q, qʷ, ʔ, p’, t’ᶿ, t’, ƛ’, č’, (k’), k’ʷ, q’, q’ʷ, θ, s, ɬ, š, xʷ, x̣, x̣ʷ, h, ǰ, g, ǰʼ, gʼ, m, n, (l), y, w, m’, n’, (l’), y’, w’.11 The glottalized lateral affricate ƛʼ and t’ merged in four Interior languages; in the three Northern Interior languages, they merged to ƛʼ (and consequently lack t’), and in Coeur d’Alene, they merged to t’ (and thus lack ƛʼ). Lillooet and Thompson have alveolar slit spirants z and zʼ, historically developed from *y and *y’ (though not in all environments). The Thompson consonant inventory is as follows: p, t, c̣, c, k, kʷ, q, qʷ, ʔ, pʼ, (tʼ), ƛʼ, cʼ, kʼ, kʼʷ, qʼ, qʼʷ, ɬ, ṣ, s, x, xʷ, x̣, x̣ʷ, h, m, n, l, z, y, ɣ, w, ʕ, ʕʷ, mʼ, nʼ, lʼ, zʼ, yʼ, ɣʼ, wʼ, ʕʼ, ʕʼʷ (Thompson and Thompson 1992:3; tʼ is rare, limited to loanwords). Peculiar sound shifts occurred in Northern Straits and Klallam; their č, čʼ, and ŋ correspond to p, pʼ, and m in other Salish languages. For example, the č-p correspondent is observed in the words meaning ‘thick’: Saanich/Klallam čɬə́t, Bella Coola pɬt, Sliammon/ Sechelt pəɬt, Chilliwack pɬá:t, Thompson pɬəɬt (root √pɬ-); čʼ-pʼ as in ‘squeeze’: Klallam čʼúc’, Saanich čʼə́pʼ, Sliammon pʼitʼᶿ, Sechelt p’əcʼ, Chilliwack pʼit’ᶿ, Spokane pʼeʔ(í); ŋ-m as in the pan-Salishan middle suffix -(V)m: Klallam -ŋ, Saanich -əŋ.12 (See Kuipers 2002 and Galloway 1988 for more data.) This development in Northern Straits and Klallam has not been fully understood. Thompson (1979a) considered that Northern Straits and Klallam č, čʼ, and ŋ developed from Proto-Salish *kʷ, kʼʷ, and *ŋʷ. This proposal is problematical, however, as Kuipers (1981, 2002) and Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998:51) point out. The modern Northern Straits and Klallam have numerous forms with kʷ and kʼʷ, and if these segments remained unchanged in certain forms while in other forms they shifted to č and čʼ, the conditions are unclear. (See Galloway 1998:316–321 for more discussion.) Also, *ŋʷ would be typologically quite rare.

44.2.2 Vowels In sharp contrast to the rich consonant inventories, most Salishan languages have just four phonemic vowels, three full vowels and a schwa, i.  e., i, u, a, ə. This four-vowel system is reconstructed for Proto-Salish (Thompson 1979a; Kuipers 2002 posits ‘retracted’ coun-

11 ǰʼ and gʼ are realized as [ʔǰ] and [ʔg] intervocalically. They alternate with y’ and w’, respectively, in syllable coda. After another consonant or word-boundary, glottalized resonants (ǰʼ and gʼ included) are not tolerated and lose the glottalization. In order to account for the alternations y’ ~ ǰʼ, wʼ ~ gʼ, which parallel y ~ ǰ, w ~ g alternations, ǰʼ and gʼ need to be posited, instead of interpreting them as sequences /ʔǰ/ and /ʔg/. See Blake (2000), Watanabe (2003) for details. 12 Data are from Nater (1990) on Bella Coola, Montler (2012) on Klallam, Montler (2018) on Saanich (Northern Straits), Thompson and Thompson (1996) on Thompson, Beaumont (2011) on Sechelt.

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terparts in addition, see § 44.2.3). However, the phonemic status of schwa is questionable, for which see below. Some languages developed a five-vowel system. All three dialects of Halkomelem have a five-vowel inventory, i, e/ɛ, a, u, ə (Suttles 2004:9 on Musqueam; Kava 1969, Bianco 1994 on Cowichan; Galloway 1993 on Upriver posits o in addition). Historically, Proto-Salish *a was fronted to e/ɛ, and *u lowered to a. The present-day u (and o in the Upriver dialect) is infrequent and is from borrowing or vocalization of *əw or *w (Galloway 1988, 1993:35). Similar shifts took place in Northern Straits, though details differ among the dialects: Proto-Salish *a fronted to e/ɛ in all dialects, and *u to *a shift took place in Saanich, Samish, and Songish (Thompson et al. 1974, Galloway 1993, Montler 1999). Tillamook has five vowels, i, u, e, a, ə, as a result of an incomplete *a to e shift (Egesdal and Thompson 1998:237). Drachman (1969) posits six vowels, e, ɛ, ə, a, ɔ, o, in Twana. The apparent simplicity of vowel inventories in Salish is rather deceptive. The phonetic quality of vowels varies, depending heavily on the preceding and/or following consonants. This is most extensive with ə. Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998:10) describe its surface quality as “[i or ɩ] adjacent to coronals, [ə] adjacent to velars, [i, e] adjacent to /y, yʼ/, [u, o] adjacent to /w, wʼ/, [ʋ] adjacent to labialized velars and to labials, [ʌ or a] adjacent to uvulars, [ɔ] adjacent to labialized uvulars and pharyngeals, [ɑ] adjacent to pharyngeals, and [a] adjacent to laryngeals.” The full vowels are generally realized as follows: “/i/ and /u/ are pronounced as [e] and [o] respectively in most environments (using broad phonetic transcription), as [i] and [u] before the corresponding glides, and as lower and laxer [ε] and [ɔ] in the environment of uvulars (and pharyngeals), /a/ is lowered and backed to [ɑ] adjacent to postvelars, and fronted adjacent to /y/. (p. 11)” Thus, /ə/ and the full vowels overlap in their phonetic realizations; however, it is important to discern what the underlying phoneme is, since schwa and full vowels behave differently morphophonemically. The status of schwa as a phoneme is questionable in most, if not all, Salish languages, that is, where schwas occur is largely predictable. In the majority of instances, they occur as a reduction of (unstressed) full vowels, epenthesis, or a transitional, excrescent vowel adjacent to resonants. In most languages, epenthetic schwas are inserted to satisfy syllabification and/or stress assignment. See, for example, Kinkade (1998b) on Upper Chehalis and more broadly on Salish, Shaw (2002, 2004) on Musqueam, Czaykowska-Higgins (1993) on Columbian. In some languages schwa has been analyzed as completely predictable and therefore not phonemic. See, for example, Bianco (1994) on Cowichan and Czaykowska-Higgins (1993) on Columbian. For Proto-Salish, Kuipers (2002) reconstructs the retracted vowels in addition to non-retracted ones: *i, *ị, *u, *ụ, *a, *ạ, *ə, *ə̣ (see § 44.2.3). In some languages, vowel length is distinctive, for example Halkomelem, Bella Coola, and the Tsamosan languages (Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade 1998:10). Thus, the vowel inventory of Musqueam includes i, e, u, a, ə, and corresponding iː, eː, uː, aː

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(but not əː) (Suttles 2004:9), and that of Cowlitz, i, u, a, ə, and iː, uː, a, eː (note long-vowel manifestation of ə is eː) (Kinkade 2004:219).

44.2.3 Retraction In all Interior Salish languages, ‘post-velar harmonies’ are observed, although the details vary. This is a process in which the uvular and pharyngeal segments trigger ‘retraction’ on other segments within words (Bessell 1992, 1998a; Mattina 1979; Czaykowska-Higgins 1990; Doak 1992). In Lillooet, for example, the consonants s, c, l, lʼ are retracted to their counterpart ṣ, c̣, ḷ, ḷʼ and the vowels a, i, u, ə [ɛ, e, o, ə] to ạ, ị, ụ, ə̣ [a, ɛ, ɔ, ʌ] (van Eijk 1997:3). The segments z and zʼ in Thompson and Lillooet, and r and rʼ in Coeur d’Alene also trigger retraction and thus must be considered retracted. Both progressive and regressive spreading of the retracting feature within a word are observed. In all Interior languages local regressive harmony, that is the retracting feature affecting adjacent vowels, is observed (Bessell 1992, 1998a). Coeur d’Alene and Spokane-Kalispel-Flathead have long-distance regressive harmony, in which the retracting feature spreads regressively (i.  e., leftward) and onto nonadjacent segments. An example from Flathead, ʔú~ʔ(u)pn-(e)čst-q(i)n [ʔɔʔpnčstqn] (dim~ten-hand-head) ‘thousand’ shows that the uvular q affects the first vowel u to be retracted (lowered) to [ɔ] across six segments.13 (The vowels in parentheses are deleted by regular phonological process.) Progressive harmony is always long-distance and triggered by a small set of roots in each language. For example, in Lillooet, the inchoative suffix -wílʼx is realized as -wiḷ́ ̣ ʼx when retraction spreads from the root: qə̣ḷ ‘bad’ > qə̣ḷ-wiḷ́ ̣ ʼx ‘to get spoiled’ (cf. ʔáma ‘good’ > ʔama-wílʼx ‘to get better, to come back to life’, van Eijk 1997:29).

44.2.4 Syllable structures Among the phonetic/phonological features, Salish is especially well-known for its long and complex consonant clusters, i.  e., consecutive consonants within a word; for example, Spokane sčkʷkʷƛʼkʷƛʼústn ‘little eyes’ (Bates and Carlson 1992:653), Upper Chehalis scénqsmstwn ‘he is hitting her face against the ground’, nkʷsqtx̣énowaystwaln ‘he is disagreeing with him’ (Kinkade 1963:186). Bella Coola demonstrates an extreme example in this regard; consonant-only words are abundant, e.  g., pɬt ‘thick’, p’ɬt ‘warm’, cɬ ‘to break’, c’ɬ ‘to shade off’, p’x̣ʷɬt ‘bunchberries’, t’kʷ ‘to bleed’, kɬ ‘to fall’, (Nater 1984:4–5; Nater 1979:186–187 lists 115 such words),

13 This data is from an unpublished manuscript, “Retracted vowels in Séliš (Flathead)” by Steve Egesdal, which is also cited in Bessell (1998b:7).

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and long consonant clusters are allowed. The following two sentences are constructed with long consonant-only words: xɬp’x̣ʷɬtɬpɬɬs =kʷc’ ‘then he had had in his possession a bunchberry plant’, k’xɬɬcxʷ sɬx̣ʷtɬɬc ‘you had seen that I had gone through the passage’ (Nater 1984:5). Not all Salishan languages tolerate such long consonant clusters, however, and there is considerable diversity; for example, Sliammon does not allow word-initial consonant clusters, and the longest cluster is of four, which only occurs word-finally (e.  g., saʔɬtxʷ ‘girl’). Such long strings of consonants in a word have raised questions about syllable structures; how these consonant sequences are parsed into syllables or can be parsed at all. The issue was especially prominent in work on Bella Coola. Newman (1947) claimed that Bella Coola has no syllables, and Hoard (1978) claimed that all its segments, including obstruents, can be syllabic. Bagemihl (1991) argued that the maximal syllabic structure in Bella Coola is in fact quite simple: CRVVC (where C is any consonant, R resonant, and V is vowel). The evidence for this ‘Simple Syllable Hypothesis’ comes primarily from reduplicative patterns, but also from glide-vowel syllabicity alternations and vowel allophones, all of which require syllabification system. According to this hypothesis, the syllable is the underlined segments in, for example, qpʼa ‘egg’ and qpsta ‘to taste’. This is crucial for accounting for the reduplicative pattern, such as the following (the reduplicants are in bold): qpʼa > qpʼaapʼa-yi ‘egg (diminutive)’ (with vowel lengthening and -yi ‘diminutive’); qpsta > qpstata- ‘to taste (iterative)’. The reduplication pattern can be explained by recognizing the syllable as claimed in the hypothesis. It targets the (first) syllable, and the copied syllable lodges immediately before that syllable (Bagemihl 1991:609). Bagemihl (1991) argues that the remaining consonants are unsyllabified but mora-licensed. He further argues that mora-licensed segments are not deleted in Bella Coola. (See Cook 1994 for a critique.) The Simple Syllable Hypothesis apparently applies to other Salishan languages as well. For example, Bates and Carlson (1992, 1998) on Spokane and Czaykowska-Higgins and Willett (1997) on Columbian argue that the hypothesis applies to these languages, and that the maximal syllable structure in them is even simpler, CVC.

44.2.5 Stress Stress patterns in the Salishan family fall into three types (Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade 1998:15–16; Leonard 2007).14 In the first type, the primary stress falls as far to the right as possible, but its position is morphologically-governed. This is essentially the system in all the Interior languages

14 Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998:15) group them into four types; however, Leonard (2007) argues that Saanich, which is the sole member of their third type, is similar to their second type.

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except Lillooet (see, for example, Czaykowska-Higgins 1993 on Columbian, Carlson 1976, 1989 on Spokane, Kuipers 1993 on Shuswap, Thompson and Thompson 1992:21–24, 27–30 on Thompson). In Spokane, for example, roots are inherently either ‘strong’ or ‘weak’, and suffixes are ‘strong’, ‘weak’, or ‘variable’ (prefixes never receive stress). Where the stress falls is then governed by the hierarchy: strong suffixes > strong roots > variable suffixes > weak roots > weak suffixes (Carlson 1976, 1989). Among the roots and suffixes in a given word, the leftmost (strongest) morpheme in this hierarchy receives stress. The set of examples in (1) show the interactions of a strong root (√púl ‘kill’), a weak root (√šil ‘chop’), a strong suffix (-sút Reflexive), and a variable suffix (-es 3Subject). To the right of the arrow (>) are the resultant forms (in which phonological changes, such as the deletion of unstressed vowels and schwa epenthesis, have applied; Carlson 1976:134): (1)      

Spokane (Carlson 1976: 134) a. Strong root/strong suffix: √púl-s-t-sút (kill-caus-tr-rfl) > pəlscút ‘He killed himself.’ b. Strong root/variable suffix: √púl-s-t-es (kill-caus-tr-3sbj) > púlsc ‘He killed it.’ c. Weak root/variable suffix: √šil-n-t-es (chop-ctr-tr-3sbj) > šələntés ‘He chopped it.’

In the second type, the primary stress falls essentially on the penultimate or ultimate syllable, but it is governed by weight difference, and to a lesser degree, also by morphological properties (Lillooet, Squamish, and Saanich). See Roberts (1993), Caldecott (2009) on Lillooet, Bar-el and Watt (1988), Dyck (2004) on Squamish, Leonard (2007) on Saanich. In the third type, the primary stress is assigned to a fixed position: in Sliammon, it is the initial syllable, and in Northern Lushootseed, it is on the (nonprefix) leftmost full vowel or schwa (if there is no full vowel; See Bianco 1995). However, in Sliammon, the position of the secondary stress (and/or high pitch) is distinctive (Watanabe 2003, Blake 2000). See § 44.3.1.5. The Upriver dialect of Halkomelem developed an accent system of pitch (sometimes referred to as ‘tone’ in the literature). See Elmendorf and Suttles (1960:8–10) and Galloway (1993:38–41).

44.3 Morphosyntax In languages rich in morphology, like Salish, morphology and syntax are deeply intertwined. This is not to say, however, that words and sentences cannot be distinguished. Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998:23) give the following schema as the basic morpheme order in words in Salish (their abbreviations has been slightly modified):

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poss/sbj(-)asp-loc-rdpl-√root-rdpl-pa-ls-(in)tr-obj-sbj/poss-asp Fig. 1: Basic morpheme order

The root is the only obligatory element in word formation. (However, Kinkade 1967 describes word constructions with only a prefix and a suffix but no root in Upper Chehalis.) In the template in Figure 1, the category poss/sbj includes possessive markers and subject markers. There are considerable differences among the languages, as described in more detail in § 44.4.1. asp includes aspectual affixes, and loc includes locative prefixes. rdpl includes reduplications, for which the Salishan languages are well-known. pa includes what Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade (1998) group as primary affixes, which are of miscellaneous types. ls stands for ‘lexical suffixes’, affixes with concrete, rather than grammatical, meanings. More than one lexical suffix could cooccur. The position of (in)tr includes transitive and intransitive markers, as well as applicatives and what is referred to as ‘control’ markers in Salish. The object and sbj/poss markers follow, in that order. These different elements are described in the following sections. A word can be preceded and/or followed by clitics. Clitics can be identified on several grounds. The most frequently-cited criterion is their mobility as opposed to affixes. Enclitics are mostly found cliticizing to the first prosodic word of a clause, that is, they are ‘second-position clitics’ (cf. Wackernagel’s Law).

44.3.1 Morphological processes The morphology (i.  e., how words are built) is rich and complex in all Salish. The morphological processes most prevalent are affixation and different types of reduplication. Among affixation, suffixes are used predominantly, whereas prefixes are limited in number and infixes are even fewer. (For example, in Sliammon, there are practically no prefixes; in Klallam 36 prefixes and 212 suffixes (Montler 2012:xii); for Lillooet, van Eijk (1997:42) states that there are 8 productive prefixes in contrast to about 200 productive suffixes.) Compounding of roots or stems is found in some but not all Salish languages. In addition to reduplication and infixation, other non-concatenative processes are also used but are less prominent. They include ablaut (change of vowels), suprasegmentals (stress assignment), and metathesis, which is found only in Klallam and Northern Straits. Examples of suffixes can be found throughout this chapter. Other morphological processes are exemplified here.

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44.3.1.1 Prefixes Salishan languages vary in their numbers of prefixes. Sliammon has basically lost all of them (and reinterpreted some as proclitics) while Southern Interior languages have the most, though still limited to about a dozen. The most prevalent pan-Salishan and functionally important prefix is the Nominalizer s-, which is found in a number of (but by no means all) nouns. In many instances, it derives nouns from verbs; for example, Sechelt s-ʔíɬtən ‘food’, ʔíɬtən ‘eat’; s-tʼíl-im ‘song’, tʼíl-im ‘sing’ (Beaumont 2011), and Thompson s-zík ‘(it is a) log’, zík-e-s ‘he felled it (a tree)’ (Thompson and Thompson 1992:131). Many nouns are found with the s- element though the stem does not occur independently; however, reduplicative processes reveal that s- is indeed a prefix; for example, Musqueam sqʷəméyʼ ‘dog’, sqʷəmqʷəméyʼ ‘dogs’; sméˑnt ‘rock, mountain’, smənméˑnt ‘rocks, mountains’ (Suttles 2004:264). Another near pan-Salishan prefix is the aspectual *ʔac- ‘stative/resultative’ (*ʔasbefore coronal obstruents): Squamish ʔəs-lílʔxʷ ‘lying, prostrate’ (lixʷ ‘fall down (from a standing position)’, Kuipers 1967:111); Cowlitz ʔac-cékʷ-ɬ ‘(s)he is lying down’ (√cə́kʷa‘lie down’, -ɬ perfective intransitive, Kinkade 2004:230); Thompson ʔes-zík ‘(a tree has been uprooted and) has fallen, is falling’ (Thompson and Thompson 1992:131). Kinkade (1999) lists seven ‘positional prefixes’ in Moses-Columbian among which are kat- ‘on a flat surface’; kɬ- ‘on the lower side of, on the surface’. These are attached to the same stem pʼə́qʼʷ-n (spill.dry.substance-1sg.sbj) in the following examples: katpʼə́qʼʷ-n ‘I spilled powder on a flat surface’, kɬ-pʼə́qʼʷ-n ‘I threw powder under it (a bush, plant, bed, etc.)’ Mattina (1973:67) lists four directional prefixes in Colville: ɬ- ‘back’, c- ‘cislocative’, kɬ- ‘down’, kʼɬ- ‘around, back to’. These are attached to xʷúyʼ ‘he went’ and mút ‘he sat’ in the following examples: ɬ-xʷúyʼ ‘he went back’, c-xʷúyʼ ‘he came’, ɬ-c-xʷúyʼ ‘he came back’; kɬ-mút ‘he sat down’. Another prefix found widely conveys the meaning ‘have, possess’. Kroeber (1999:12) suggests *ʔapɬ- as the Proto-Salish form: Shuswap pəɬ-cítxʷ ‘having a house, owner of a/the house (cítxʷ)’ (Kuipers 1974:71); Spokane ʔepɬ-cítxʷ ‘he has a house’ (Carlson 1972:119); Okanagan kɬ-pʼínaʔ ‘have a basket (pʼínaʔ)’ (Mattina 1996:166); Saanich č-qéx̣əʔ ‘have a dog (s-qéx̣əʔ)’ (Montler 2018). Bella Coola xɬ- ‘to have, possess’ (e.  g., xɬ-ʔaci ‘to have a boat (ʔaci)’, Nater 1984:80) may also be a cognate (see Newman 1976:237). The Lushootseed prefix bəs-, which often combines with ʔəs- into ʔəbs-, does not appear to be a cognate, but semantically equivalent: ʔəbs-bəd~bədaʔ ‘have children (pl~offspring)’ (Hess 1998:30).

44.3.1.2 Infixes Infixes are limited in number, but some are used productively. One such infix is , which conveys inchoative aspect in all Interior Salish (though unproductive in Shuswap, Kuipers 1974:40). Strong roots take this infix , while weak roots take the allomorph -p

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(see § 44.2.5 on strong vs. weak roots); for example, Thompson zúcʼ ‘it gets tight’ (ʔeszúcʼ ‘tight’, ʔes- stative aspect); cék ‘get cool, cool off’ (ʔes-cék ‘already cool(ed)’) (kɬ-ə́p ‘it comes apart’, ʔes-kə́ɬ ‘detached’) (Thompson and Thompson 1992:97; Thompson and Thompson 1996); Kalispel qʼuúc ‘he gets fat’ (qúc-t ‘he is fat’, -t stv) (Vogt 1940a:64); Spokane číp ‘it became pinched’ (čip ‘pinch’) (ɬx̣ʷ-úp ‘it got a hole in it’, ɬox̣ʷ ‘opened’) (Carlson 1993:38); Colville pax̣ ‘he begins to think’ (pax̣ ‘think’; Mattina 1973:66). In Klallam, three processes are used to mark imperfective aspect (called ‘actual’ in Straits languages); infixation of a glottal stop, reduplication of C1, and metathesis. The glottal stop infix is the most productive of the three (Montler 2015:225–226): šúpt ‘whistling’ (šúpt ‘whistle’); ʔéənʼ ‘eating’ (ʔíɬən ‘eat’).

44.3.1.3 Reduplication The Salishan languages are well known for their extensive use of reduplication. Various reduplicative patterns have attracted interest since the earliest period of research (e.  g., Haeberlin 1918), and previous studies, especially on individual languages, are numerous. Van Eijk (1990, 1998) are two major studies on the VC and CVC reduplication, respectively, of virtually the entire Salishan family. Four types of reduplication are widely attested in Salish, and most languages have other types as well. The C1VC2 reduplication that denotes plurality of some sort (‘plural’, ‘distributive’, ‘repetitive’, ‘intensive’, ‘augmentative’, and ‘pluractionality’) and the CV reduplication that expresses ‘diminutive’ are attested in most, if not all, of the Salishan languages. The VC reduplication is productive in the Interior languages (though less so in Shuswap) and Lushootseed (Hess 1966). It is also fairly productive in Sliammon, Sechelt, and Upper Chehalis. In other languages, the VC reduplication is still attested but appears to be rare or infrequent. The meaning conveyed by this reduplication varies; however, especially in the Interior languages, the prevalent notion is that of ‘out-of-control’, which expresses that the agent is not in control of the action (see also § 44.3.5.2); for example, Spokane kʼʷélčʼ ‘it tipped over by accident’ (kʼʷélčʼ ‘inverted’; Carlson and Thompson 1982:52); Thompson pʼc’~ə́cʼ ‘it has gotten lowered, s.  o. has lowered it’ (pʼc’-ə́p ‘it fell, collapsed’ with the inchoative suffix; Thompson and Thompson 1992:100). See discussions in Kroeber (1988) and van Eijk (1990). In Coast Salish (and also attested in Tillamook, Egesdal and Thompson 1998:238; Edel 1939:14), the C1V reduplication that expresses ‘imperfective/progressive’ aspect is widely attested. Note that details differ as regards the presence or absence (or deletion) and the quality of the vowels in the reduplicant, and also as regards whether the reduplicants are treated as prefixing or suffixing. Note also that in most of the Salishan languages, the reduplicative patterns target the root (root-oriented), that is, C1 and C2 in the formula stand for the first and second

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consonant of the root, respectively. However, in some cases, reduplicative processes target the stressed vowel of the word (stress-oriented). This is the case in Thompson, Shuswap, and Lillooet for the CV diminutive reduplication, and Thompson, Lillooet, and Upper Chehalis for the VC reduplication (Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade 1998:18–19; van Eijk 1990). Examples of reduplication in Sliammon include the following: C1VC2~ Plural (the vowel of the reduplicant is always ə in Sliammon, as is the case in many of the Salishan languages; Watanabe 2003:372–375): on nouns; kʷəs~kʷusən ‘stars’ (kʷusən ‘star’), ʔəs~ʔasxʷ ‘seals’ (ʔasxʷ ‘seal’), tʼəy~tʼayš ‘blankets’ (tʼayš ‘blanket’), on verbs; ʔəm~ʔim-aš ‘walk around’ (ʔim-aš ‘walk’), gəqʼ~gəqʼ ‘they (e.  g. doors) are open’, gəqʼ~gəqʼ-t ‘open them’ (gəqʼ ‘it opens’); C1V~ Diminutive (Watanabe 2003:384–391): su~spayu ‘small ax’ (supayu ‘ax’); tʼu~tʼɬaɬ ‘small bed’ (tʼuɬaɬ ‘bed’); ʔa~ʔyaʔ ‘small house’ (ʔayaʔ ‘house’), wu~wt-u-t ‘bend it a little bit’ (wut-u-t ‘bend it’), ʔi~ʔaxʷ ‘snowing a little bit’ (ʔaxʷ ‘it snows’); The ~VC2 reduplication copies the second consonant of the root (C2) and the vowel preceding it, and places them directly following the second consonant of the root. Thus, if the root is longer than C1VC2, this reduplication appears as an infix (i.  e., C1VC2C3). In Sliammon, this reduplication is applicable only to state roots and conveys the inceptive aspect (Kroeber 1988; Watanabe 2003:396–397, 450–454). Examples from Sliammon include: ʔah~ah ‘get sore’ (ʔah ‘sore’), qʼəx̣~əx̣ ‘get bruised’ (qʼəx̣ ‘bruised’), qəx̣~əx̣ ‘get more’ (qəx̣ ‘many’), čʼəpx̣ ‘get dirty’ (čʼəpx̣ ‘dirty’), ƛʼiqʼiw ‘get dark’ (ƛʼiqʼiw ‘dark’), pəɬt ‘get thick’ (pəɬt ‘thick’); C1V~ Imperfective (Watanabe 2003:391–396): wu~wut-u-t ‘bending it’ (wut-u-t ‘bend it’), ʔa~ʔaxʷ ‘it is snowing’, čʼə~čʼɬ ‘raining’ (čʼəɬ ‘it rains’), mə~mqʼ ‘(stomach) getting full’ (məqʼ ‘get full’). Still other reduplicative processes are attested; for example, in Sliammon (see Watanabe 2003:371–406): C1V~ ‘Plural’ (on stative stems), ʔa~ʔmut ‘They are all home’ (ʔamut ‘be home’), čʼa~čʼpx̣ ‘they are all dirty’ (čʼəpx̣ ‘dirty’); C1əRʼ~ ‘Characteristic’, təwʼ~ tiwš ‘fast learner, smart’ (tiwš-am ‘learn’), qʷəyʼ~qʷay ‘talkative’ (qʷay ‘talk’). Glottalization of resonants triggered by certain reduplicative processes is widely observed among the Salishan languages; for example, with the CV diminutive, Sliammon ʔu~ʔuɬqayʼ ‘small snake’ (ʔuɬqay), čʼa~čʼgayʼ ‘small wooden spoon’ (čʼagʼay); Colville sʕʼanʼíxʷ ‘a little muskrat’ (sʕaníxʷ) (Mattina 1973:66); Spokane š~šílʼ ‘a small thing is chopped’ (šil) (Carlson 1989:207). The diminutive CV reduplication in Thompson targets the stressed vowel, that is, the reduplicant CV is the copy of the stressed vowel in the word and the consonant immediately preceding the vowel, and the reduplicant immediately follows the stressed vowel (Thompson and Thompson 1992:89). (The vowel is often deleted following the phonological rule in the language.) Because the stress position is not fixed in a word in Thompson, this CV reduplication occurs in different positions; compare, for example, kʼʷáxʷe ‘small box’ (from kʼʷáxʷe ‘box’), and ɬaʔx̣-ánʼs ‘(baby or animal) eats’ (from ɬaʔx̣-áns ‘(grown person) eats’). The VC ‘out-of-control’ reduplication in Thompson

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also targets the stressed vowel; thus, from the last form, ɬaʔx̣-áns =kn ‘I manage to eat, eat with difficulty’ (=kn 1sg.sbj; Thompson and Thompson 1992:100). Note that some of these reduplicative patterns can cooccur (‘double-reduplication’). In Sliammon, for example, the C1V diminutive and C1VC2 plural can cooccur: si~səp~supayu ‘small axes’ (supayu ‘ax’); tʼi~tʼəɬ~tʼuɬaɬ ‘small beds’ (tʼuɬaɬ ‘bed’); qʼi~qʼəs~qʼəsnayʼ ‘small shirts, dresses’ (qʼəsnayʼ ‘shirt, dress’). Also, the C1V imperfective and the VC2 inceptive can cooccur: ʔa~ʔah~ah ‘getting sore’ (ʔah ‘sore’), qə~qx̣~əx̣ ‘getting more’ (qəx̣ ‘many’), čʼə~čʼpx̣ ‘getting dirty’ (čʼəpx̣ ‘dirty’). In several languages (e.  g., Lillooet, Shuswap, and Columbian) the VC reduplication can be applied twice or even more to convey intensified meaning of the reduplication (van Eijk 1990); for example, Lillooet pʼlix̣ʷ~ix̣ʷ~íx̣ʷ ‘to keep boiling over’ (pʼlíx̣ʷ~əx̣ʷ ‘boiling over, flowing over’, √pʼlix̣ʷ ‘to boil over, flow over’, van Eijk 1990; van Eijk 1997:56).15 In Tillamook, in addition to the C1VC2~ plural reduplication, a typologically rather rare C2~ reduplication, which results in C2~C1VC2, is also found: á= n-s-ɬ~gáɬ ‘my eyes’ (det= 1sg.poss-nmlz-pl~eye) from gaˑɬ ‘eye’ (Edel 1939:15, 23; see Nelson 2005 for a discussion on this type of ‘wrong side reduplication’, and see Kim and Gardiner 2016 for an alternative analysis.).

44.3.1.4 Ablaut Ablaut (change of vowel quality) is used marginally but is widespread in the family (Urbanczyk 2004), usually conveying some sort of plural/pluractional meaning. In Sliammon, just twenty-some roots show ə to a/i ablaut: θəxʷ-t ‘stab it’, θaxʷ-a-t ‘stab them, stab many times’; tʼᶿəwqʼʷ-a-t ‘scoop it’, tʼᶿawqʼʷ-a-t ‘scoop them up, scoop it up many times’; ʔəqʼ-t ‘scratch it’, ʔiqʼ-ìt ‘it is scratched in many places’; kʼʷəq-t ‘split it’, kʼʷiq-i-t ‘split them’. In Thompson, kʼl-ə̣́m ‘she cuts (buckskin, cloth)’, kʼiĺ ̣ -m ‘she cuts (several pieces)’ (Thompson and Thompson 1992:87).

44.3.1.5 Suprasegmentals Suprasegmentals, especially stress but possibly pitch, are also used, at least in Sliammon and Upriver Halkomelem. In Sliammon, the primary stress falls on the first vowel of word, and stress assignment basically follows a trochaic pattern; however, the stative suffix -ìt (or ) always receives (secondary) stress (and high pitch). Thus, the root fol-

15 Van Eijk (1990:246) cites an unpublished work by M. Dale Kinkade and gives examples of multiple VC reduplication in Columbian. Such forms are all onomatopoetic, for example, cʼə́nənən ‘to tremble, quiver’, ci-pálələlələl ‘leaves shaking.

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lowed by the control transitivizer suffix -t (with a linking vowel in between) θiq-i-t [θɛ́qɛt] (HL) ‘dig it’ is phonemically the same segments as the root followed by the stative suffix, θiq-ìt [θɛ́ːqɛ̀t] (HH) ‘it is dug’; they are, however, different in their stress/pitch. Other examples are: miq-i-t [mɛ́qɛt] (HL) ‘dip it’, miq-ìt [mɛ́ːqɛ̀t] (HH) ‘it is dipped.’ With some roots, the stative aspect is marked only by the stress assignment: qʷum-u-t [qʷɔ́mot] (HL) ‘put it in mouth’, qʷum-ù-t [qʷóːmòt] (HH) ‘keep it in mouth’; ƛʼay-a-t [ƛʼáyɛt] (HL) ‘hold it’, ƛʼay-à-t [ƛʼáːyɛ̀t] (HH) ‘holding it’.

44.3.1.6 Metathesis Metathesis is used as a grammatical process in Klallam and Northern Straits (at least in some dialects, for example, Songish, see Raffo 1972:143–144). The process is most often observed as historical changes in many languages (e.  g., Old English brid > bird), and it is rare to find it as a morphological process with a grammatical function. Examples from Klallam (Thompson and Thompson 1969:216) include: x̣čʼí-t ‘scratch’, x̣íčʼ-t ‘scratching’, qʼxʷí-t ‘tie up’, qʼíxʷ-t ‘tying up’, ƛʼkʷə́-t ‘grasp’, ƛʼə́kʷ-t ‘grasping’. Superficially similar phenomena are analyzed as phonological processes, rather than direct metathesis (Montler 1986:119–120, 1989 on Saanich; Demers 1974 on Lummi).

44.3.1.7 Compounding Compounding of root-root (or stem-stem) is not a productive process in the majority of Salishan languages; for example, Sliammon does not, except for a few lexicalized items (e.  g., pəq-aɬ-čayiš (white-conn-hand) ‘palm of hand’), use compounding.16 However, compounding appears to be productive in the following languages: Moses-Columbia (Kinkade 1998a), Upper Chehalis (Kinkade 1998a), Cowlits (Kinkade 2004:226–227), Coeur d’Alene (Doak 1997:285  f), Spokane (Carlson 1990). See, for example, in Spokane (Carlson 1990): ʔal-p-ɬ-qíxʷmn ‘he lost a whip’ (ʔal ‘to lose’, -p inc, -ɬ- conn, qíxʷmn ‘whip’), x̣lt-sqélixʷ ‘he invited all the people’ (x̣lit ‘to invite’, sqélixʷ ‘person’); in Cowlitz (Kinkade 2004:226–227): pʼén-l-xawɬ ‘by the road’ (p’énʼ- ‘beside’, xəwál- ‘road’), x̣asílʔ-sxʷayʼs ‘dandruff’ (x̣asíliʔ- ‘rain’, xʷayʼús- ‘hat’). In compounds, a connective element -(V)l- or -(V)ɬ- often appears between the two stems. This element is widely attested in the Salish family, even in languages in which

16 At least in the following languages the descriptions state that compounding is unproductive, rare, or infrequent: Sliammon (Watanabe 2003:167), Musqueam Halkomelem (Suttles 2004:23), Klallam (Montler 2012:xii), Lushootseed (Bates et al. 1994:xvii), Lillooet (van Eijk 1997:54), Thompson (Thompson and Thompson 1992:109), Shuswap (Gibson 1973:38), Colville (Mattina 1973:92), Tillamook (Edel 1939:29), Lower Chehalis (Robertson and LCLP 2014:133), and Bella Coola (Nater 1984:34).

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compounding is not productive. It also often appears between a root and a lexical suffix (§ 44.3.4).

44.3.2 Synopsis of morpho-syntax In this subsection I present a brief synopsis of Salish grammar, then provide more detail on some of the prominent features in the subsequent sections: the issue of ‘word classes’ (§ 44.3.3); ‘lexical suffixes’ (§ 44.3.4), and valency alternations (§ 44.3.5). Then § 44.4 describes the pronominal markers, especially subjects, which are considerably diversified across the different branches. Because subject markers are intertwined with complex sentences, they are presented together in that section. § 44.5 provides brief description of some of the remaining sentence types. We begin this survey of grammatical structures of Salish languages with some basic examples from Sliammon: (2)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1994) tə=nəxʷiy-s tə=tumiš det=canoe-3poss det=man ‘the man’s canoe’

(3)      

Sliammon (speaker: Elsie Paul, 1996) gay-a-t-∅-as tə=čuyʼ ask-lv-ctr-3obj-3tr.sbj det=child ‘He asked the child.’

(4)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1993) təq =∅ close =3indc.sbj ‘It (e.  g., door, lid) closes/closed.’

(5)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1999) θu =č go =1sg.indc.sbj ‘I go/went.’

(6)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary Geoge, 1991) čʼa~čʼah-əm =∅ ɬə= tᶿ= ipfv~pray-mdl =3indc.sbj det= 1sg.poss= ‘My grandmother is praying.’

(7)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1998) ɬəq =čan ʔə= tə= x̣əpayʼ jab =1sg.indc.sbj obl= det= stick ‘I got poked by the stick.’

čičiyaʔ grandmother

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(8)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2003) čʼag-a-t-umuɬ-as help-lv-ctr-1pl.obj-3tr.sbj ‘He helped us.’

(9)      

Sliammon (speaker: Elsie Paul, 2006) ɬanʼ-it =∅ =kʼʷa tə= yax̣ay ʔə= tə= ʔuɬqay weave-stv =3indc.sbj =quot det= basket obl= det= snake ‘The basket is woven with snakes.’ (from a traditional narrative about Basket Ogress)

Ex. (3)–(9) are simple declarative sentences. They demonstrate that the predicate is generally clause-initial, followed by clitics and, optionally by nominal phrases (NPs or determiner phrases, DPs). The subject and/or object of the clause is marked on the predicate by pronominal markers (suffixes or clitics; § 44.4). Overt NPs that express subject or object are not required. Third person referents can be expressed overtly by NPs, as in (3) ‘the child’, (6) ‘my grandmother’, or (9) ‘the basket’. Phonologically null pronominals (written ∅, as in 3, 4, 6, and 9) are usually not written in the literature on Salish. Head-marking Salish languages are ‘head-marking’, that is, the markers that indicate the role of the word in a phrase or clause are attached to the ‘head’ rather than the ‘dependent’ word within them. In (2), the possessed object (‘canoe’), not the possessor (‘man’) is marked with the third person possessive (-s). (This contrasts with the corresponding English in which the possessor is marked, ‘man’s’). In (3), the predicate is marked with the third person object (-∅) and third person transitive subject (-as) suffixes. Noun phrases (determiner phrases) In noun phrases (NPs), the noun is preceded by a determiner (article or demonstrative), for example, tə in (3, 7, and 9), and ɬə in (6).17 In general, a determiner is obligatory in NPs in Salish, except in the Southern Interior languages and Tillamook (Kroeber 1998:63). In most of the other languages, even proper nouns (like personal names or place names) and independent pronouns are introduced by articles. (Details may differ, however; for example, in Sliammon, personal names and independent pronouns are not preceded by articles, whereas in Bella Coola, proper names and geographical names are often without an article (Nater 1984:42). Note also that, at least in Sliammon, the determiner is often omitted in natural discourse.) Each Salish language has a set of articles and demonstratives. Research on what they express has been conducted intensively, especially since Matthewson’s (1998) land-

17 The term ‘determiner phrase (DP)’ is also used, especially in studies using generative frameworks. I use the more traditional term ‘noun phrase (NP)’ in this chapter.

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mark work. Earlier descriptions of individual languages (e.  g., Kuipers 1967:137 on Squamish) divided the system into ‘definite’ and ‘indefinite’. Matthewson (1998) argues that definiteness (or familiarity presupposition) is irrelevant, and this claim is followed by others, for example, Gillon (2013) on Squamish. What appear to be coded in determiners are deixis, proximity, and/or visibility, which overlap with each other. Gender and number are also coded in some Salishan languages. See summaries and discussions (and re-analyses) in Gillon (2013:180–217) Articles and demonstratives encode gender in all non-Interior Salishan languages (i.  e., Bella Coola (Nater 1984:41–44), Coast Salish, Tsamosan, and Tillamook (Edel 1939:44, 46–47)). The opposition is ‘feminine’ vs. ‘non-feminine’ (or ‘neutral’). There is no grammatical gender (like ‘masculine/feminine’ in many European languages), hence the ‘feminine’ is used for natural female gender. In some languages with feminine determiners, their uses do not appear to be obligatory with female nouns (e.  g., Gillon 2013:31 on Squamish), and they seem to be used also with non-female or inanimate nouns with a connotation of small size, endearment, or importance; for example, Sliammon ɬə=ʔa~ʔya ‘the little house’ (ʔayaʔ ‘house’). NPs can be expanded with pronominal possessive markers, as in (6) and attributive modifiers: Sliammon tə=tih nexʷiy-s ‘his big canoe’ (det=big canoe-3poss). Participants in a clause can be classified into two categories: ‘direct’ (subject and object) and ‘oblique’ (Kroeber 1999:37). Direct participants can be expressed by unmarked (prepositionless) NPs (‘direct NPs’), as in (3), (6), and ‘basket’ in (9), whereas obliques are expressed by NPs preceded with a preposition clitic, as in (7) and ‘snake’ in (9). The ‘general’ oblique preposition varies in form: ʔə in most Coast Salish (but t in Squamish), x in Bella Coola, ɬ in Upper Chehalis, Cowlitz (and possibly in Lower Chehalis), and t in Interior Salish (except ʔə in Lillooet and ʔe in Coeur d’Alene). Salishan languages vary in the number of oblique prepositions; for example, Sliammon, like most Coast Salish languages, has only one, ʔə, whereas Lushootseed has ʔal ‘in, on, at, when’ and its derivatives such as dxʷʔal ‘toward, until, in order to, the reason for’ (Hess 1995: 82–83), and Upper Chehalis has eight prepositions and two compounds of them (plus various sequence of them): ʔaɬ ‘in, on, into’, ča ‘with’, ɬ ‘in, to, at, into’, š ‘to, into’, ta ‘with, in, to’, tač ‘with, by’, taš ‘from, at, across, through, around’, to ‘of, from’; the two compounds are šaɬ ~ šʔaɬ ‘to, on, into’ and toɬ ‘for, to’; e.  g., ʔaɬ tat wéɬ ‘in the canoe’ (Kinkade 1964: 260). Some languages diverge from this general pattern and mark direct NPs with an oblique preposition, while others do not use a preposition for oblique NPs. See Kroeber (1999:47–53). Oblique participants can be further divided into ‘core’ and ‘non-core’ obliques (Kroeber 1989:42). Even if they are expressed formally by the same oblique NPs, they behave differently, for example, in relativization (see § 44.5.2). Core obliques include patients of active-intransitives (‘antipassives’), ditransitives, and agents of passives. Noncore obliques include various types of referents that are not coded in the root (or the stem): instruments (7), source (9), as in various locative type referents, like location

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(Sliammon ʔə= tə= θiyumixʷtən ‘(fell) on the floor’), goal/destination (Sliammon ʔə= tə= qʼʷit ‘(go) to the beach’), or source/origin (Sliammon ʔə= tə= kʷəθays ‘(come) from the island’). If there is one direct NP in a clause whose predicate is transitive with both the subject and the object being third person, that NP must be interpreted as the object, as in (3). This restriction is referred to as ‘One-Nominal Interpretation’, following Gerdts (1988), and it applies to most of the Salishan languages. It may not, however, be so rigidly held in Bella Coola and some Interior languages (Kroeber 1999:40). Word order All of the languages show basic predicate-initial clause structure, but the relative order of NPs (subject, object, and even obliques) varies among the Salishan languages, and even within the same language, it is often not rigidly fixed. The preferred order of NPs, especially among the Coast Salish languages and Bella Coola (Nater 1984:52), appears to be “subject--object--others”; however, the order is fairly flexible in most languages; for example, both VSO and VOS are possible in Musqueam Halkomelem (Suttles 2004:49), Klallam (Montler 2015:52), Lillooet (van Eijk 1997:228), Thompson (Thompson and Thompson 1992:148), Columbian (Willett 2003:94). In Shuswap, although the predicate is generally clause-initial, it is possible for the subject NP to precede the predicate (Kuipers 1974:77). In Squamish, even oblique phrases can precede direct NPs (though only in intransitives, Kuipers 1967:169); this order is also possible in Thompson (Thompson and Thompson 1992:148). Transitive subjects are not generally expressed by NPs. There are no instances of them in recorded natural discourse in Sliammon, and they are strongly disfavored even in elicitation. The strategy for expressing a transitive agent overtly in an NP is passive, where it can appear as an oblique NP. In Lushootseed, the only permitted construction for expressing the agent of a semantically transitive proposition in an overt NP is the use of a passive clause, with the agent NP coded as an oblique NP (Hess 1973). Aspect Aspect is an important category in all Salishan languages, whereas tense appears to be largely optional. Kinkade (1996) attempts a reconstruction of aspects and provides a summary of major aspectual categories. There are some aspectual categories that are observed in most, if not all, languages in the family. Imperfective (continuative/actual) and stative (resultative) are morphosyntactically marked in all Salishan languages, and inceptive (inchoative/developmental) also seems to occur in all the languages. Unrealized (hypothetical/future) is also widely observed. (In parentheses are some of the alternative terms used in the Salishan literature.) How these aspects are marked varies considerably across the languages. In the imperfective/perfective opposition, the former is the morphosyntactically marked category, the latter unmarked and hence inferred. Imperfective aspect is generally marked by C1V~ reduplication in Coast Salish and Tillamook. See § 44.3.1.3 and

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(6). The three Tsamosan languages, Upper Chehalis, Lower Chehalis, and Cowlitz, are exceptional in employing different sets of subject markers for imperfective and perfective clauses (together with the prefix s- in imperfective and the pre-predicate particle ʔit in perfective). See § 44.4.4. Stative aspect is marked by the reflexes of *ʔac- in most of the languages (see § 44.3.1.1). Sliammon is exceptional in marking it with the suffix -it, as in (9), which appears as an infix in C1VC2C3 roots (e.  g., qʼətxʷ ‘it is burnt’, qʼətxʷ ‘it burns/burned’). The stative marking appears in many other forms in Sliammon: qəp-ʔm ‘be touching (s.t.)’ (qəpʔəm ‘touch (s.t.)’, -ʔəm Active-intransitive, § 44.3.5.1), qəp-i-t ‘be touching it’ (qəp-t ‘touch it’, -t Control transitive, § 44.3.5.2). The stative interacts with lexical suffixes (§ 44.3.4): čʼət-igs ‘have a cut on the body’ (čʼət-iws ‘get a cut on the body’; čʼət ‘get cut’)¸ čʼətaʔanʼa ‘have a cut on the ear’ (čʼət-aʔana ‘get a cut on the ear’), čʼət-uθìn ‘have a cut on the mouth’ (čʼət-uθin ‘get a cut on the mouth). See Watanabe (2003:328–331, 410–449). Inceptive is marked in the Interior languages by the infix on strong roots and the suffix -p on weak roots (§ 44.3.1.2). Other languages use various other suffixes: Bella Coola -am, -anm, or -(a)lc (Nater 1984:71–73); Upper Chehalis -áw (Kinkade 1991:368); Cowlitz -aw, -u (Kinkade 2004:262); Sechelt -əl, -il (Beaumont 2011); Lushootseed -il (Bates et al. 1994:116). Sliammon, Twana, and Tillamook use VC2 reduplication to indicate the inceptive aspect: Sliammon ~VC2 (see § 44.3.1.3; Kroeber 1988; Watanabe 2003:396–397, 450–454); Twana ~aC2 (Drachman 1969:269, 271, 279); Tillamook VC2 (Edel 1939:16). (However, see van Eijk (1990:256–257) for a discussion on whether these VC2 reduplicative patterns really convey an inceptive meaning. Egesdal and Thompson (1998:249–250) label it as ‘out-of-control’ for Tillamook.) Unrealized aspect indicates future activity, states, or events, which may be hypothetical. Kinkade (1996:10) reconstructs *k(a)ɬ in Proto-Salish. Some of the cognate forms in the present-day languages are: Lillooet =kəɬ, Columbian kaɬ-, Spokane qɬ-, Bella Coola ka=, Klallam cəʔ, Lushootseed ɬu-, Upper Chehalis ɬ= (Kinkade 1996:11). Later studies argued that at least some of these forms indicate future tense, rather than an aspect (e.  g., Bates and Hess 2001 on Lushootseed ɬu-). Tense is only optionally marked in most, if not all, Salishan languages. There are means for indicating the past and the future tense overtly. They are far from uniform and are clitics, affixes, or particles; for example, the past is expressed by Sliammon -ʔuɬ, Klallam =yaʔ (Montler 2012:533), Lillooet =tuʔ (van Eijk 1997:200), Cowlitz =l (Kinkade 2004:248); the future by Sliammon =səm, Klallam =caʔ (Montler 2012:71), Lillooet =kəɬ (van Eijk 1997:201), Cowlitz ɬ(-it), ƛʼa (Kinkade 2004:249–250). Matthewson (2006) argues that unmarked predicates can be interpreted as present or past, depending on, for example, the aspectual class of the predicate; however, the future must be overtly marked.

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Nouns as predicates Nouns can occupy the clause-initial position and function as predicates (nominal predicates), as in (10a, b). Note that there is no copula in Salish.18 (10a)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1992) man =čxʷəm father =2sg.indc.sbj+fut ‘You will be a father.’

(10b)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1994) ǰanxʷ =səm kʷə= tᶿ= nanatmin fish =fut det= 1sg.poss= supper ‘Fish will be my supper.’

The potential predicative nature of virtually all words has fostered a longstanding debate on whether word classes (parts-of-speech) can be distinguished in Salish. This is discussed in § 44.3.3. Affixes with concrete, lexical meanings All languages in the family have around one hundred suffixes with concrete, rather than grammatical, meanings. Such suffixes are referred to as ‘lexical suffixes’ in Salish. In (11), the root is expanded by a suffix with the meaning ‘top of the head’. See § 44.3.4. (11)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1998) ɬəq-iqʷan =č jab-top.of.head =1sg.indc.sbj ‘I got poked in the head.’

Valency alternations Salish has an elaborate mechanism for adjusting the valency of predicates, that is, how many and of what participant roles can be coded in the predicate. In addition to (simple) intransitives, which can be bare roots (4, 5, and 7) or marked by a intransitive marker (6), and transitives, which are basically always derived by a transitivizer suffix, (3 and 8), argument structure can be further manipulated by, for example, an applicative suffix, as in (12). See § 3.5. (12)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1994) həy-ʔəm-θi =tᶿəm make-appl-ctr+2sg.obj =1sg.indc.sbj+fut ‘I will make a box for you.

ʔə= obl=

kʷ= det=

kʼʷaxʷa box

18 Kinkade (1976) analyzed Upper Chehalis and Cowlitz as exceptional among the Salishan languages as having copulas; however, Shank (2001) reanalyzes Kinkade’s ‘copula’ in Upper Chehalis as a discourse connective element.

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Auxiliaries/adverbs and complex predicates Most of the Salishan languages have auxiliaries and adverbs that can appear with the notionally main predicates to form ‘complex predicates’. They are prosodically separate words and usually precede the main predicate. (13)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2004) qʷəl =čaxʷ čʼag-a-θ come =2sg.indc.sbj help-lv-ctr+1sg.obj ‘You come and help me!’

Auxiliaries and adverbs attract ‘mobile’ clitics in the Coast languages, Thompson, and Lillooet, if they precede the predicate proper. In (13), the second person singular subject (=čaxʷ) attaches to the auxiliary (qʷəl). Verbal morphology remains on the predicate proper, for example, in (13), the transitivizer and the first person singular object suffix, which are fused in Sliammon to -θ, is attached to the predicate proper. In these languages, this behavior can be a test for the clitic vs. affix status of an element. (Mobile clitics are not found in Bella Coola, Shuswap, the Southern Interior languages, and Tillamook. See Kroeber (1999:53–57), Davis (2000:504), and references cited therein for discussions. Also, on auxiliaries, see Kinkade 1992.) Nominal predicates can also be complex in that they can be preceded by attributive modifiers: (14)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2002) ʔəy-mut tan ɬə= tᶿ= manʼa good-very mother det= 1sg.poss= child ‘My daughter is a good mother.’

In the following subsections, I discuss some more prominent and typologically interesting grammatical features: word classes (§ 44.3.3), lexical suffixes (§ 44.3.4), and applicatives (§ 44.3.5).

44.3.3 Word classes: ‘Noun vs. Verb’ Salish languages, along with the neighboring Wakashan languages, are well-known for possibly lacking any distinctions between word classes (parts-of-speech), even between such major classes as ‘nouns’ and ‘verbs’. (See Rosborough and Rosenblum, this volume, on Wakashan, and also see Hieber, this volume.) The issue was noted even in the earliest period of linguistic studies in the area, for example, Boas (1911:443) on Kwakiutl (Wakashan), Edel (1939) on Tillamook, and Reichard (1938:527) on Coeur d’Alene. Several studies argued for the lack of a noun-verb distinction in Salish; for example, Kuipers (1968) on Squamish, Jelinek and Demers (1994), and Jelinek (1995) on Northern Straits. Most notably, Kinkade (1984) argued for the lack of a distinction in Salish in general. The issue has been debated for decades among Salishanists. However, the general consensus

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today is that major word classes, at least ‘noun’ and ‘verb’, can be justified on several grounds (as argued by, for example, van Eijk and Hess (1986), Matthewson and Demirdache (1995), Mattina (1996:158  ff.), Montler (2003), Watanabe (2010), Beck (2013), and many others). Nevertheless, the linguistic traits that raised the issue in the first place do present interesting and strong characteristics of Salish. Such characteristics can be illustrated with examples from Sliammon as follows: (i) All words can occur in the predicate position (clause-initial) where they are indeed predicative. Thus, nouns of all kinds (common, proper, pronouns, numerals, etc.) and adjective-like words can all function as predicates without any ‘verbalizing’ morphology; for example, Sliammon man =č ‘I am a father (man)’, Mary kʷə= tᶿ= nan ‘My name (nan) is Mary’, tih tə= kapu ‘the coat (kapu) is big (tih)’. See also (10a, b). (ii) Word classes in any language are most clearly distinguished when a certain group of morphological processes can be applied only to one group of roots but not to others. However, in Salish, most morphological operations can be applied to most roots. Here are such traits observed in Sliammon: (iia) C1VC2 plural reduplication can be applied both to nouns (kʷəs~kʷusən ‘stars’, ʔəs~ʔasxʷ ‘seals’) and verbs (ʔəm~ʔim-aš ‘walk around’, ʔim-aš ‘walk’; gəqʼ~gəqʼ ‘they (e.  g., doors) are open’, gəqʼ~gəqʼ-t ‘open them’, gəqʼ ‘it opens’), as do C1V diminutive reduplication to nouns (su~spayu ‘small ax’, supayu ‘ax’; tʼu~tʼɬaɬ ‘small bed’, tʼuɬaɬ ‘bed’) and verbs (wu~wt-u-t ‘bend it a little’, wut-u-t ‘bend it’; pʼi~pʼapʼi-m ‘working a little bit’, pʼapʼi-m ‘work’). (iib) The past tense suffix (-ʔuɬ) can be applied to verbs: ʔim-aš-uɬ ‘walked’; gəqʼ-tas-uɬ ‘he opened it’ (-as 3tr.sbj.). It can also attach to nouns to mean ‘deceased’ or ‘ex-’: manʼ-uɬ ‘deceased father’; gaqaθ-uɬ ‘ex-husband’ (gaqaθ ‘husband’). (iic) The causative suffix (-sxʷ, -st, -stəg in Sliammon) can attach to verbal stems: ʔim-aš-sxʷ ‘make her walk’, θap-iš-sxʷ ‘let him bathe’ (θap-iš ‘bathe’, -iš intransitive suffix). It can also attach to nominal stems: nəgi-sxʷ ‘let it be you (who does X)’ (nəgiɬ 2sg. pronoun), kʼʷaxʷa-sxʷ ‘let it be the box (that, e.  g., you put this in)’. Van Eijk and Hess (1986) argued against ‘category neutrality’. They showed that possessive markers can readily attach to nouns, whereas verbs first need to be nominalized by the nominalizing prefix s-. For example, the first person singular possessive prefixes n- (Lillooet) and d- (Lushootseed) can attach to Lillooet tmixʷ ‘land’, n-tmixʷ ‘my land’, Lushootseed bád ‘father’, d-bád ‘my father’. They cannot, however, directly attach to verbs like Lillooet ʔíƛʼəm ‘to sing’ or Lushootseed ʔə́ɬəd ‘to eat’. The possessive markers can attach to these verbs after they are nominalized: Lillooet s-ʔíƛʼəm ‘song’, n-s-ʔíƛʼəm ‘my song’; Lushootseed s-ʔə́ɬəd ‘food’, n-s-ʔə́ɬəd ‘my food’. The use of the nominalizer s- as a criterion is not applicable to Sliammon, since it has lost the prefix and hence the process of lexical nominalization. (The historical reflex of the nominalizer in Sliammon is a proclitic used in clausal nominalization.) Still, nouns and verbs can be distinguished by combining several morphological criteria, such as the compatibility with the infix ‘have’ (applicable only to nouns)

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and with the C1V~ imperfective reduplication (applicable only to verbs) (Watanabe 2010). Matthewson and Demirdache (1995) argued that the noun-verb distinction is also supported by syntactic evidence, namely, that only nouns can head relative clauses and ‘complex nominal predicates’. See (14) for an example of complex nominal predicate, and § 44.5.2 (64) for an example of headed relative clause.

44.3.4 Lexical suffixes Among the rich morphological processes there is a group of suffixes referred to as ‘lexical suffixes’.19 They are bound forms with concrete, mostly nominal, lexical meanings. (This is in contrast to the similar set of suffixes found in the neighboring Wakashan languages, whose lexical suffixes include verbal ones; see Rosborough and Rosenblum, this volume, on Wakashan). Each of the Salishan languages has about 100 to 150 lexical suffixes. When unproductive, possibly fossilized ones are also included, the count is greater; for example, Kinkade (1991) lists almost 300. About half of them in each language refer to body-parts; for example, in Sliammon, -aʔamčis ‘shoulder’, -aʔana ‘ear’, -awus ‘eye’, -ayčʼ ‘intestine’, -čis ‘hand’, -čsən ‘forehead’, -iqʷ ‘nose; pointed object’, -lawʼi ‘belly’, -ɬaɬ ‘throat’, -ƛʼač ‘intestine’, -nač ‘buttock, bottom; root’, -nis ‘tooth; blade’, -qin ‘mouth (inside); voice, language, food, eating, mouth of cup’, -šən ‘foot, leg; tire of automobile, leg of table and chairs’, -uǰʼa ‘hand’, -us ‘head, face; round object, money’, -uθin ‘mouth (outside); lips, food, eating’. The rest refer to various objects, natural phenomena, or more abstract concepts; for example, in Sliammon: -ʔay ‘tree, bush’,-aʔaɬaɬ ‘breath’, -aʔaq ‘wind’, -aǰʼa ‘tree, leaf, root’, -am ‘inside of container, pot’, -amiɬ ‘food’, -aqap ‘smell’, -awʼtxʷ ‘house’, -aya ‘person’, -aya ‘place’, -ayin ‘end’, -ayiɬ ‘child’, -ayitən ‘cloud, weather’, -ays ‘rock’, -iǰis ‘nighttime, at night’, -ipan ‘lid’, -itʼᶿa ‘clothes’, -ǰan ‘fish net’, -kʷu ‘water’, -kʼʷat ‘river’, -ɬaw ‘food’, -mixʷ ‘house’, -tən ‘instrument’, -ukʷt ‘blanket’, -umiš ‘appearance’, -umixʷ ‘floor, ground’, -umʼa ‘berry’, -unaxʷ ‘wave (of ocean)’, -uθ ‘language, words’ (Watanabe 2003:307–370). Most lexical suffixes have semantically corresponding freestanding independent words. It is striking, however, that they differ in their phonological forms. For example, in Sliammon, the lexical suffix that means ‘water’ is -kʷu, but there is an independent word qayʼa, meaning ‘water’; likewise, in Bella Coola, -lt and mna ‘child, offspring’, -lst and t’x̣t ‘rock(s)’ (Nater 1984:81); Squamish -iʔups and skʼʷukʷc ‘tail’ (Kuipers 1967:124). The correspondence between lexical suffixes and their semantically equivalent independent words is in fact much more complex. Out of about ninety lexical suffixes 19 The term ‘lexical suffix’ was coined by Kinkade (1963) and is now generally used by Salishanists. Other terms have been used by different scholars: ‘verbal affixes that refer to nouns’ (Sapir 1911), ‘field suffixes’ (Vogt 1940a), and ‘somatic and non-somatic suffixes’ (Kuipers 1974).

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in Sliammon, roughly half indeed bear no resemblance to their independent counterparts; for example, -aʔamčis (lexical suffix) and pʼiyqin (independent word) both mean ‘shoulder’, -iqʷ and məqsən ‘nose’, -ǰan and pʼaʔačʼ ‘fishing net’, -awʼtxʷ and ʔayaʔ ‘house’. However, some of the independent words that have semantically corresponding lexical suffixes are analyzable into a root and lexical suffix(es); for example, ƛiqʷaǰʼis ‘cheek’ is comprised of ƛiqʷ ‘flesh’ and the lexical suffix -aǰʼis ‘cheek’, and θiyumixʷtən ‘floor’ is comprised of θiy- ‘support from beneath’, -umixʷ ‘floor, ground’, ‘-tən ‘instrument’. The meaning of the (putative) root in such words can be elusive; for example, say-anʼa ‘neck’, say-iqʷan ‘top of head’, say-ɬaɬ ‘throat’, say-ayʼax̣an ‘elbow, upper arm’, and sayayʼiqʼʷan ‘ankle’ all seem to be segmentable into the root say- and a lexical suffix. This root, however, never occurs by itself or with grammatical suffixes, and its meaning is unclear.20 Still, some lexical suffixes are related in form to their counterparts though the independent forms are not analyzable; for example, -šən and ǰəšən ‘foot, leg’, -nis and ǰənis ‘teeth’, -us and muʔus ‘head, face’, -uθin and θuθin ‘mouth’. In these cases, the use of the lexical suffixes closely resembles ‘noun incorporation’, a morphological process that combines noun roots (or stems) with verb roots (or stems). This leads to the question of whether the use of lexical suffixes, especially when combined into predicates, is actually noun incorporation. Sapir (1911) argued that it is not on the grounds that lexical suffixes are different in form from the freestanding words with the same meaning. Salishanists generally treat lexical suffixes as distinct from noun incorporation. In this vein, it is notable that the majority of Salishan languages do not use compounding of roots or stems as a morphological process (§ 44.3.1.7). Some Salishan languages also have a small set of lexical prefixes in addition to lexical suffixes: four in Bella Coola (Nater 1984:95), ten in Musqueam (as opposed to ‘nearly 150’ lexical suffixes, Suttles 2004: 278–284), nine in Colville (Seymour 2015:779)21, a handful in Coeur d’Alene (Reichard 1938:591–592)22, and five in Lower Chehalis (Robertson and LCLP 2014:131–132)23. Most of these prefixes are, however, more abstract

20 Sechelt has the cognate root sal-, which is found in words like sál-láx̣an ‘arm (upper), arm (whole)’ (-láx̣an ‘arm’), sál-nis ‘edge (cutting) of blade’ (-nis ‘blade, tooth’), sál-qin ‘throat (pharynx?), tip/top of pole/tree/etc.’ (Beaumont 2011:738). Beaumont (2011:737) identifies the meaning of the cognate root sal- as ‘location’. 21 Seymour (2015) is an anthology of texts narrated by Peter J. Seymour, compiled and edited by Anthony Mattina. The nine lexical prefixes listed are those found in the texts in the volume, and therefore may not be exhaustive. 22 Reichard (1938) referred to lexical affixes as ‘nominal affixes’. Among the eleven lexical prefixes she listed (pp.591–592) are those that are not considered lexical affixes in later studies, like the nominalizer s-. 23 Robertson and LCLP (2014:131) reports one lexical circumfix, nš-…-tn ‘group of kin (relatives)’ as in nš-ʔimʼəc-tn-s ‘his grandchildren’ (-s 3poss). Kinkade (1991, 2004) treats the apparent cognate forms in Upper Chehalis (nš- -tn, ns- -tn, Kinkade 1991:363) and Cowlitz (nx- -tn, Kinkade 2004:258) as grammatical affixes that mark plural on kin-terms.

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in meaning compared to the majority of lexical suffixes. For example, the lexical prefixes listed in Suttles (2004:278–284) for Musqueam are: mə- ‘come’, təm- ‘time of, season for’, tən- ‘from’, txʷ- ‘(something) belonging to’, txʷ- ‘remaining, only’, ɬ- ‘portion’, cʼɬ- ‘fellow, co-ʼ, xʷ- ‘inward’, wə- ‘suddenly, with a burst’, hənʼ- / həmʼ- / ʔəmʼ- / hən- ‘come’. Examples include: mə-técəl ‘come here’ (técəl ‘arrive here’), təm-líleʔ ‘salmonberry season’ (líleʔ ‘salmonberry’). Lexical suffixes are one of the most prominent features of all Salishan languages; fluent speakers demonstrate virtuosity in use of lexical suffixes to manipulate information flow in discourse. For example, (15) comes from a narrative in Sliammon. The speaker is talking about a strange noise she heard from a bush. What she was hanging is expressed by the lexical suffix -itʼᶿa ‘clothes’ and thus placed in background: (15)      

Sliammon (speaker: Elsie Paul, 1997) hə~hkʷ-ayʼ-itʼᶿa =č ipfv~hang-conn-clothes =1sg.indc.sbj ‘I was hanging clothes outside.’

niʔ be.there

kʷ= det=

ʔasqʼ outside

The use of lexical suffixes referring to instruments is attested but appears to be less frequent; for example, Musqueam kʼʷc-áləs ‘see with one’s own eyes’ (‘see-eye’) (Suttles 2004:290); Sliammon ɬatš-uyʔ-əm ‘to splash water with hand’ (‘splash-hand-mdl’); ­Columbian x̣əlʼ-x̣alʼ-ákst-mn ‘stir something (lit. turn with hand)’ (pl-turn-hand-rlt) (Czykowska-Higgins and Willett 1996). Lexical suffixes are a source for coining new words; for example, the words meaning ‘car, automobile’ are as follows (besides borrowings from Chinook Jargon or English, e.  g., Sliammon ʔatnupil or Thompson ka): Sliammon ǰəƛʼ~ǰəƛʼ-umixʷ (pl~run-ground, lit. ‘running around on the ground’); Lushootseed tukʼʷ-us (pounding.sound-face, lit. ‘clapping or slapping sound in front’ Bates et al. 1994:229); Musqueam xʷəqʷám-əwən (smell-behind, lit. ‘smelly behind’ Suttles 2004:314); Thompson nəx̣ʷ-úyəmʼxʷ (animal. run-ground). Some lexical suffixes are used in classificatory functions, especially when attached to interrogative words or numerals; for example, Sliammon kʼʷin-aya (how.many-people) ‘how many people?’, tam-aqap (what-smell) ‘what kind of smell?’; attached to the numeral mus ‘four’, mus-aya ‘four people’, mus-us ‘four dollars, months’ (-us ‘face/ head’ also ‘round objects, e.  g., coins or the moon’), mus-igiɬ ‘four conoes’, mus-iws ‘four bodies’. In the Salishan languages that use compounding, a lexical suffix and compounding of roots may cooccur; for example, in Coeur d’Alene, čn= gʷiyʼɛskʼʷúlʼɬxʷ (čn= √gʷiyʼ-ɛɬ-s√kʼʷulʼ-iɬxʷ 1sg.sbj= finish-conn-nmlz-work-house) ‘I finished building a house.’ (Doak 1997:300). Lexical suffixes are clearly bound forms, that is, they cannot be used without attaching to a root or a stem. However, they also show some traits that resemble roots, rather than grammatical affixes, aside from their ‘root-like’ meanings; for example, most phonemes found in roots are found also in lexical suffixes, whereas in grammatical affixes,

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glottalized obstruents rarely appear, if at all. Also, stress assignment for lexical suffixes may be different from grammatical ones. The origin of lexical suffixes is considered to be the result of compounding (Egesdal 1981, Carlson 1990, Kinkade 1998a). The scenario of independent words eroding in form after compounding and grammaticalizing into suffixes is quite plausible. The lexical suffixes are considered to be very old in the history of Salish; Kinkade (1998a) states that lexical suffixes must have already been present in Proto-Salish, and Kuipers (2002) reconstructs thirty-four lexical suffixes for Proto-Salish.

44.3.5 Valency alternations Salishan languages can express one or two participants in the predicate by pronominal affixes and clitics. Predicates with only one participant are intransitive, and those with two are transitive. By this definition, reflexive, reciprocal, and passive clauses are all formally intransitive. A third participant cannot be coded on the predicate in Salish, even if the proposition semantically involves three, as in ditransitive notions like ‘give’ in ‘He gave her a book’ (cf. Gerdts 1993, 1998). Salishan languages have elaborate systems for manipulating which participants are coded in the predicate. Studies in this area of Salishan grammar are numerous. See, for example, Gerdts (2004), Beck (2009).

44.3.5.1 Intransitive Intransitive stems are either unmarked, i.  e., bare roots, or suffixed with an intransitive marker. The majority of unmarked intransitives are patient-oriented; e.  g., Sliammon səpʼ ‘get clubbed’, ɬəq ‘get jabbed’, čʼət ‘get cut’. The subject is understood to be the patient, e.  g., səpʼ =čan ‘I got clubbed’; kʼʷəq tə= qʼʷayʼx̣ ‘The firewood (qʼʷayʼx̣) splits’. A limited number of unmarked intransitives are agent-oriented. About twenty such roots are attested in Sliammon: ʔuɬqʷu ‘dig clams’, ʔuɬtxʷ ‘enter’, ʔuwuɬ ‘embark’, θu ‘go’, ǰəƛʼ ‘run’. The intransitive suffixes used throughout Salish languages are reflexes of Proto-Salish *-(ə)m. In many languages, they function to derive what is most often referred to as the middle; for example, Sliammon čʼah-am ‘pray’, has-am ‘sneeze’, qah-am ‘open mouth’, čiɬ-im ‘dance’, kʼʷitʼᶿ-im ‘jump’, guh-um ‘[animal] bark’, kʷət-əm ‘get sick’; Sechelt tíwš-ám ‘learn’, ʔítut-ám ‘(be) sleepy’, čʼíy-im ‘pray’, tʼíl-im ‘sing’ (Beaumont 2011); Thompson cw-ə́m ‘he works (does things, makes things)’, píx̣-mʼ ‘they go hunting’, séxʷ-m ‘she takes a bath’, qʼm-ə́m ‘she swallows’, miʔx-ə́m ‘he kicks’ (Thompson and Thompson 1992:102–103). Suffixes of the same form are also used to form what might appear to be ‘antipassive’ predicates, whose semantic patient is demoted and can be expressed only in an oblique phrase. The stems are, however, not based on transitives, so the term ‘active-in-

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transitive’ is more appropriate. In active-intransitive stems, only the agents are coded on the predicate. Ex. (16) could be translated more literally as ‘I did the burning of paper this morning.’ (16)      

Sechelt (Beaumont 2011:66) qʼə́~qʼtxʷ-ə́m-uɬ =čən ʔə čə ipfv~burn-mdl-pst =1sg.indc.sbj obl det ‘I was burning (the) paper(s) this morning.’

(17)      

Thompson (Egesdal et al. 2011:75) cəw~cuw-ə́m ekʷu xeʔ aug~make-mdl rprt nb ‘They made a sweathouse.’

(18)      

Coeur d’Alene (Doak 1997:230) n-málʼ-m ʔɛ ʔúsɛʔ loc-boil-m obl egg ‘She boiled eggs.’

te obl

pípa paper

kʷíykʷíy-uɬ morning-pst

nqʼálzeʔtn sweathouse

In some languages, however, the forms of the middle and active-intransitive suffixes are different: Sliammon -Vm vs. -ʔəm, Halkomelem -əm vs. -els, Lillooet -əm vs. -xal, Bella Coola -m vs. -a. In such languages, active-intransitive stems contrast with middles, for example, Sliammon tʼikʷ-ʔəm ‘unload (s.t.)’, tʼikʷ-um ‘disembark’; ǰətkʷ-aʔam ‘shake up (s.t.)’, ǰətkʷ-im ‘s.t. (e.  g., branches) shaking’; ǰix̣-ʔəm ‘collapse (s.t.)’, ǰix̣-im ‘s.t. (e.  g., house) collapse’. Other example of active-intransitives in Sliammon include: gətʼᶿ-ʔəm ‘chop (wood)’ (gətʼᶿ ‘(wood) splits’), ǰax̣ʷ-ʔəm ‘melt (s.t.)’ (ǰax̣ʷ ‘it melts’), ƛəpxʷ-aʔam ‘break (s.t. in two)’ (ƛəpxʷ ‘it breaks (in two)’). The logical patient can be expressed overtly by an oblique NP, as in (19): (19)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1995) kʼʷəq-ʔəm =tᶿəm ʔə= tə= split-a.intr =1sg.indc.sbj+fut obl det ‘I will split (some) firewood.’

qʼʷayʼx̣ firewood

44.3.5.2 Transitives and ‘Control’ There are three productive transitivizer suffixes in Salish, for which reconstructed Proto-Salish forms are: *-n and *-t ‘control transitive’, *-nəw ‘noncontrol (or limited control) transitive’, and *-stəw ‘causative’ (Newman 1979b, Czaykowska-Higgins and Kinkade 1998, Kroeber 1999). In the Coast Salish languages, the reflex of *-nəw is itself a transitivizer suffix. In the Interior languages and Bella Coola, the cognate suffixes are not themselves transitivizers but are followed by a transitive marker such as -nt (Kroeber 1999:29–30). In Sliammon, the forms of these transitivizers are: -t, -ng (-n, -nu, -əxʷ, -nəg), and -stg (-st, -sxʷ, -stəg), respectively.

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The transitivizer suffixes are followed by an object suffix. There are two sets of object suffixes in most Salishan languages, ‘neutral’ and ‘causative’ (§  44.4.1). The control transitivizer is followed by the former set, and the noncontrol and the causative transitivizers are followed by the latter set. Thompson (1979a, 1979b, 1985) analyzed the opposition between the first two transitivizers as that of the degree of agent’s ‘control’. The next pair of examples (20a, b) from Sliammon, which are formed on the same root, illustrate the opposition: (20a)      

Sliammon (speaker: Elsie Paul, 2006) tʼutʼᶿ-u-t-as shoot-lv-ctr -3tr.sbj ‘He shot at it.’

(20b)        

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1993) tʼutʼᶿ-əxʷ-as shoot-ntr-3tr.sbj (i) ‘He accidentally shot it.’ (ii) ‘He finally managed to shoot it.’

The noncontrol (20b) can be translated as in either (i) or (ii), depending on the context. Note that the opposition cannot be the agent’s ‘intention/volition’; the two possible readings of (20b) are diametrically opposed in terms of intention. Thompson (1979a, 1979b, 1985) argued that the opposition can be the difference in the ‘control’ that the agent had over the act. In this view, the ‘control transitives’, like (20a), indicate that the agent of the event had full control of the action; in contrast, the ‘noncontrol’ (or ‘limited control’) counterparts, like (20b), indicate that the agent lacked such control, and thus ‘accidentally, unintentionally’ did something, or performed the act and achieved the end result only with difficulty. Control transitives do not entail completed end-result of the action, whereas noncontrol transitives entail culmination of it. From the patient’s standpoint, then, the noncontrol forms convey a resultative aspectual property. The two possible readings of noncontrol transitives, as in (20b), can be derived from such a property. See, for example, Watanabe (2003) and Jacobs (2011), for discussions on Sliammon and Squamish, respectively. Thompson and Thompson (1992:51–56) argue that the opposition ‘control vs. noncontrol’ is observed not only in transitive predicates but permeates the entire grammar of Thompson; for example, besides the control transitive -n-t and the noncontrol transitive -nwénʼ-t (or -nwé-n-t; Thompson and Thompson 1992:107), control middle -ə̆me and noncontrol middle -nwénɬn are postulated (Thompson and Thompson 1992:102–107). The causative transitivizer generally applies to intransitive stems and adds an agent; for example, Sliammon ʔiɬtən-sxʷ ‘make him eat, to feed him’ (ʔiɬtən ‘eat (Intr.)’), ƛʼəčʼt-sxʷ ‘put him to sleep’ (ƛʼəčʼt ‘fall asleep’), pəq-sxʷ ‘make it white’ (pəq ‘white’), tiwšam-sxʷ ‘make him learn, teach him’ (tiwš-am ‘learn’ -Vm mdl).

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44.3.5.3 Applicatives All Salish languages have applicative suffixes, which immediately precede the transitivizers. (Data on just Pentlatch is lacking.) Each language has at least two, and the maximum is six (in Tsamosan). They are grouped into ‘redirective’ (or ‘indirective’) and ‘relational’, according to their functions.24 At least one applicative suffix for each can clearly be reconstructed for Proto-Salish: *-xi ‘redirective’ and *-mi ‘relational’. See the detailed study of applicatives in all Salishan languages by Kiyosawa and Gerdts (2010, based on Kiyosawa 2006). In redirectives, the direct object in the predicate refers not to the logical patient but to other various participants whose roles are recipient, beneficiary, source, or possessor (i.  e., roles that are not ‘subcategorized’ in the non-applicative transitive stem). An example of a redirective applicative in Sliammon is in (21b), with a corresponding (non-applicative) transitive in (21a). (Note that Sliammon, Sechelt, and Bella Coola are the only languages whose redirective suffix is not the reflex of Proto-Salish *-xi.) (21)    

Sliammon (speaker: Marion Harry, 2010) a. čʼət-t-as tə= saplin cut-ctr-3tr.sbj det= bread ‘He cut the bread.’ b. čʼət-ʔəm-t-as tə= tutamʼiš   cut-appl-ctr-3tr.sbj det= young.boy   ‘He cut the bread for the boy.’

ʔə= obl=

tə= det=

saplin bread

In (21b), the beneficiary (‘the boy’) is coreferential with the direct object (which is -∅), and hence it is expressed in a direct NP. The semantic patient (‘the bread’, the erstwhile direct object in 21a) can be overtly expressed; however, since the maximum number of arguments that can be coded in the predicate is two, it can only appear in an oblique status. A type of redirective applicative whose object is a ‘possessor’ is common among the Southern Interior languages. The applicative suffix in question is -ɬ, as in the Coeur d’Alene example (see Kiyosawa and Gerdts 2010:155–161 and references cited therein for details): (22)        

Coeur d’Alene (Doak 1997:147) gʷníɬcɛs kʼʷítʼn //gʷnit-ɬ-t-sɛl-s kʼʷitʼn// call-appl-tr-1sg.obj-3tr.sbj mouse ‘He asked for my mouse.’

The other kind of applicative is ‘relational’; it attaches to intransitive stems and is followed by a transitivizer. The direct object refers to a variety of roles, for example, the 24 The glosses appl and rlt are used for ‘redirective’ and ‘relational’, respectively, in this chapter.

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goal of motion, as in (23), the stimulus of perception or psychological state, as in (24), and the content of cognition (Kiyosawa and Gerdts 2010:51–115). (23)      

Sliammon (speaker: Elsie Paul, 2006) θu-mi-t-as tə= wiwʼlus go-rlt-ctr-3tr.sbj det= young.man ‘He went up to the young man.’     cf. (5)

(24)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1992) x̣əɬ-it-mi-t-as tə= čuyʼ angry-stv-rlt-ctr-3tr.sbj det= child ‘He is angry at the child.’    cf. x̣əɬ-it ‘He is angry.’

Other examples of relational applicative stems from Sliammon whose direct object refers to the goal of motion include: ɬukʼʷ-mi-t ‘fly towards it’ (ɬukʼʷ ‘fly’), ǰəƛʼ-mi-t ‘run towards it’ (ǰəƛʼ ‘run’), ǰəq-iš-mi-t ‘crawl towards it’ (ǰəq-iš ‘crawl’). With some roots, the relational applicative is attached after the middle: x̣ʷay-əm-(m)i-t ‘dive for/towards it’ (x̣ʷay-əm ‘dive’), kʼʷitʼᶿ-im-(m)i-t ‘jump for/towards it’ (kʼʷitʼᶿ-im ‘jump’), nəš-əm-(m)i-t ‘swim towards it’ (nəš-əm ‘swim’). Still other examples of uses of the relational suffix from Sliammon include: ƛʼux̣ʷt-mi-t ‘be crying about him/on account of him’ (ƛʼux̣ʷt ‘be crying’), kʼʷaqʼt-mi-t ‘be crying and screaming at him’ (kʼʷaqʼt ‘be crying and screaming’), x̣iyp-mi-t ‘scare him’ (x̣iyp ‘get scared/startled’). The applicative suffixes can cooccur with lexical suffixes: (25)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1994) mi~miqʼ-ǰan-ʔəm-t =č ipfv~dip-fish.net-appl-ctr =1sg.indc.sbj ‘I am setting the fish net for my father.’

(26)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1994) həy-mixʷ-ʔəm-t-anapi =tᶿəm make-house-appl-ctr-2pl.obj =1sg.indc.sbj+fut ‘I will build a house for you (pl.).’

šə= det=

tᶿ= 1sg.poss=

man father

In Bella Coola, the suffix -amk can encode an instrument as the applied object. (See Davis and Saunders 1997:50–57; Nater 1984:63–64). Bella Coola is the only language in the Salish family in which instrumental is found as the applied object (Kiyosawa and Gerdts 2010:204–218). (27)      

Bella Coola (Davis and Sauders 1997:53) cp-amk-i-xʷ-a ti-cpmpuːsta-tx wipe-appl-3sg.obj-2sg.sbj-qn det-towel-deic ‘Are you using the towel to wipe with?’

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44.3.5.4 Detransitivization Transitive stems may be detransitivized by reflexive suffixes, reciprocal suffixes, or passive suffixes; all attach to transitive stems and form predicates that are morpho-syntactically intransitive. Such detransitivized stems can be (re-)transitivized in turn (§ 44.3.5.5). Some examples of reflexives from Sliammon include: kʼʷas-a-θut ‘warm up oneself’ (kʼʷas-a-t ‘burn it, roast it’); tayq-a-θut ‘move (oneself)’ (tayq-a-t ‘move it’); x̣iq-i-θut ‘scratch oneself’ (x̣iq-i-t ‘scratch it’); tumiš-θut ‘[boy] turn into a man’ (tumiš ‘man’); ­saɬtu-θut ‘[young girl] turn into a woman’ (saɬtxʷ ‘woman’); and tumiš-nu-mut ‘[boy] have turned into a man’. Reciprocal stems often occur with the C1V~ Plural reduplication in Sliammon: čʼa~čʼg-a-t-awɬ (pl~help-lv-ctr-rcp) ‘they are helping each other’, tʼᶿə~tʼᶿkʷ-iws-t-awɬ (pl~wipe-body-ctr-rcp) ‘they are wiping each other’s body’. In (28) the reciprocal suffix occurs with the applicative suffix: (28)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1994) kʼʷəɬ-ʔəm-t-awɬ =štəm spill/pour-appl-ctr-rcp =1pl.indc.sbj+fut ‘We will pour tea for each other.’

ʔə= obl=

tə= det=

tiy tea

Passives are formed with a passive suffix attached to transitive stems. The forms of the suffix are -m and -(i)t: Coast Salish uses -m in main clauses and -it in subordinate clauses, whereas Interior Salish uses -m with first person singular or third person patient, but otherwise uses -t (Kroeber 1999:26–28). Bella Coola is similar to Interior Salish (though with some complications, see Nater 1984:38). Upper Chehalis and Cowlitz use different passive suffixes according to aspect.25 This parallels the use of two different series of subject markers according to aspect (§ 44.4.4). The passive suffix used in the perfective aspect is -m, while in the imperfective aspect, it is -stš in Upper Chehalis and -ctx in Cowlitz. In subordinate clauses the passive is formed by -(i)t. (See Kinkade 1987 for details on Upper Chehalis; Kinkade 2004:246–147.) In most of the Salishan languages, the object suffix indicates the patient, just as in transitives. The agent is demoted to oblique status and not marked on the predicate: Sliammon ʔaqʼ-a-t-anapi-m (chase-lv-ctr-2pl.obj-pass) ‘you (pl.) are chased’. The agent can be expressed by a prepositional phrase:

25 Information on passives in the other two Tsamosan languages is lacking. Lower Chehalis uses -tm to form perfective passives, but data on imperfectives are missing (Robertson and LCLP 2014:99). The suffix -tm is likely further segmentable into -t-m, the control transitivizer followed by the passive suffix (see Kinkade 1987 for the parallel form in Upper Chehalis).

Salish 

(29)      

 1091

Sliammon (speaker: Elsie Paul, 1996) ʔaqʼ-a-t-əm ʔə= ɬə= x̣awgas chase-lv-ctr-pass obl det grizzly.bear ‘He was chased by the grizzly bear.’

Some Coast Salish languages use the subject clitics to indicate the patient, rather than the object suffixes, in the passive construction. Squamish, Northern Straits, Klallam, and Lushootseed follow this pattern. (Kroeber 1999: 27 speculates that perhaps Twana also uses this pattern.) (30)      

Klallam (Montler 2015:160) kʷənáŋə-t-əŋ =cn help-ctr-pass =1sg.indc.sbj ‘I was helped.’

Upper Chehalis, again, uses different markers for the patient of passives according to aspect; the subject clitics are used in the perfective, while the object suffixes are used in the continuative (Kinkade 1987).26 Active-intransitive suffixes can be used on causative stems, in which case they detransitivize the stem. Thus, from qʼʷit ‘beach, go towards beach’, and the causativized form qʼʷit-sxʷ ‘bring/take it towards beach’, we have the following (31): (31)      

Sliammon (speaker: Elsie Paul, 1996) qʼʷit-st-aʔam ʔə= kʷ= kʼʷuʔuxʷ beach-caus-a.intr obl= det= smoke.dried.fish ‘They brought the smoke-dried fish down the beach.’

44.3.5.5 Multiple alternations Valency alternation operations can be employed multiple times in a stem, if semantically sound. For example, the next three examples from Sliammon demonstrate (re-) transitivization of intransitive stems by the causative (32, 33) or the relational applicative and the following transitivizer (34): (32)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1995) kʼʷəq-ʔəm-stu-mi =tᶿəm split-a.intr-caus-2sg.obj =1sg.indc.sbj+fut ‘I will let you split the firewood.’

ʔə= š= qʼʷayʼx̣ obl= det= firewood

26 In Cowlitz, the patient is expressed by the object suffixes in the imperfective aspect; however, data on how it is marked in the perfective aspect passive appear to be unavailable (Kinkade 2004:246).

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 Honoré Watanabe

(33)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1998) ʔəpʼ-θut-stu-mš-as-uɬ wipe/brush-ctr+rfl-caus-1sg.obj-3tr.sbj-pst ‘He made me brush myself.’27

(34)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1994) ɬag-a-θut-mi-θ-as leave-lv-ctr+rfl-rlt-ctr+1sg.obj-3tr.sbj ‘He walked/ran out on me.’

Note that the object (‘firewood’) of ‘splitting’ in (32) is expressed by an oblique NP. (Compare kʼʷəq tə= qʼʷayʼx̣ ‘The firewood splits’ and (19) kʼʷəq-ʔəm =tᶿəm ʔə=tə=qʼayʼx̣ ‘I will split (some) firewood.’)

44.4 Pronominals, clause types, and sentence structures 44.4.1 Pronominal markers Pronominal markers are generally obligatorily attached to predicates to encode the direct participants: for intransitive predicates, the subject marker is attached, and for transitive predicates, the object and the subject, in that order, are attached. In this section, we begin this survey by observing the reconstructed pronominal markers, especially of the subject, in Proto-Salish. We then look at the two Northern Interior languages, Thompson and Shuswap, since they have preserved the Proto-Salish system more than other languages in the family (§ 44.4.2). Then, the Coast languages are surveyed, along with the third Northern Interior language, Lillooet, which patterns with the Coast languages (§ 44.4.3). The remaining (sub-)branches are quite divergent in their pronominal marking systems; Tsamosan languages (§ 44.4.4), Bella Coola (§ 44.4.5), Tillamook (§  44.4.6), and Southern Interior languages (§  44.4.7) are surveyed in that order. Building on Newman’s earlier works (1979a, 1980), Kroeber (1999) and Davis (2000) have reached basically the same conclusion as regards the subject markers in Proto-Salish, shown in Table 3.

27 ʔəpʼ-θut refers specifically to a traditional practice among the Sliammon people of brushing one’s body with cedar boughs for spiritual cleansing.

Salish 

 1093

Tab. 3: Proto-Salish Subject Markers (Kroeber 1999, Davis 200028)  

1sg

2sg

3 

1pl

2pl

Indicative clitic Possessive clitic Conjunctive clitic Transitive subject suffix

*=kan *n= *=wan *-an

*=kaxʷ *ʔn= *=waxʷ *-axʷ

*∅ *=s *=was *-as

*=kat *=iɬ *=wat *-at

*=kap *=lap *=wap *-ap

Important distinctions are observed between three types of clauses in Proto-Salish and in most of its descendants: indicative, conjunctive (subjunctive), and nominalized clauses. In general, the indicative clitics are used to mark the subject in indicative (main) clauses, the possessive clitics in nominalized clauses, the conjunctive clitics in conjunctive clauses. The transitive subject suffixes (sometimes referred to as ‘ergative’) are used on transitive predicates. The present-day Salishan languages, however, show fairly divergent development from the reconstructed system. The Interior languages, especially the two Northern Interior languages, Thompson and Shuswap, are conservative in terms of their historical changes from Proto-Salish. Except in Lillooet, which patterns more with the Coast languages, indicative clitics are used with intransitive predicates, while transitive subject suffixes are used with transitive predicates. This pattern is considered to be the system in Proto-Salish (Newman 1979a, Kroeber 1999, Davis 2000). The possessive clitics are homophonous with the possessive affixes, which can also be reconstructed for Proto-Salish. The term ‘conjunctive’ is used widely (though not exclusively) in Salishan studies, for what is often called ‘subjunctive’. Save the possessive clitics, the similarities between the forms are obvious; the indicative and the conjunctive clitics appear to be *k and *w followed by the transitive subject suffix, respectively. In the present-day languages, however, these forms have changed significantly and differently, and segmenting the initial consonants is not possible. Conjunctive clauses are observed in the Northern Interior and the Coast languages and also in Tillamook. Traces can also be found in Coeur d’Alene and Bella Coola (Kroeber 1999:97–99). Conjunctive clauses are used in conditional, optative, and irrealis clauses. They also appear as complements of negative predicates in Sliammon, Sechelt, Squamish, and Halkomelem (see § 44.5.1). Propositional nominalization is found in almost all Salishan languages. Tillamook appears to be the only exception (Kroeber 1999:100, Egesdal and Thompson 1998). Generally, propositional nominalization is marked by the nominalizer s=, and the subject of nominalized clauses is marked by the possessive clitics. Nominalized clauses appear as 28 In Davis’s (2000:513) table, third person singular and plural forms are given separate columns; however, they are identical in form.

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adverbial clauses (for example, temporal ones) and as complement clauses of various kinds (for example, those of immediate perception, irrealis, evaluative, causal, and cognition). In transitive predicates in all types of clauses, the object is marked by suffixes. Most Salish languages have two sets of object suffixes, or at least the remnants of them, which are reconstructed for Proto-Salish by Newman (1979b), as in Table 4.29 Exceptions include Twana (Drachman 1969), Shuswap (Kuipers 1974:46), Thompson (Thompson and Thompson 1992:58). Tab. 4: Proto-Salish Object Suffixes (Newman 1979b)  

1sg

2sg

3 

1pl

2pl

Neutral Causative

*-c ( kexʷ > kxʷ > kʷxʷ > kʷ (Thompson and Thompson 1992:58). In the conjunctive clitic series, the vowel from the reconstructed forms is lost, with subsequent vocalization of w to u. Tab. 5: Thompson Subject Markers (Thompson and Thompson 1992:58, 61; Koch 2009)31  

1sg

2sg

3 

1pl

2pl

Indicative Clitic Possessive Clitic Conjunctive Clitic Transitive Subject Suffix

=kn n= =wn -en

=kʷ eʔ= =uxʷ ~ =wxʷ -exʷ

∅  =s =us ~ =ws -es

=kt =kt =ut ~ =wt -et ~ -em

=kp =ep =up ~ =wp -ep

The following examples from Thompson illustrate the use of indicative clitics with intransitive predicates (35a-c) and of transitive subject suffixes with transitive predicates (36a–c). (35)      

Thompson (Thompson and Thompson 1992:61) a. yʼé =kʷ ‘you feel well’ b. ménʼx-m =kt ‘we smoke’ c. nes =kp ‘you people go (there)’

31 Thompson and Thompson (1992:58) treat the possessive markers as affixes. I have adopted the more recent analysis, e.  g., by Koch (2009), and treat them as clitics. They are mobile, that is, they follow the pre-predicative auxiliary, if there is one.

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(36)      

 Honoré Watanabe

Thompson (Thompson and Thompson 1992:63) a. kən-t-éxʷ ‘you help him’ b. kən-cí-n ‘I help you’ c. kən-t-úym-es ‘he helps you (pl.)’

The indicative subject clitics are enclitics in the Northern Interior languages, as in the Thompson examples (35a-c), but they are proclitics in the Southern Interior languages (and also in Squamish). In Thompson and Shuswap, intransitive conjunctive clauses take the conjunctive clitic simply in place of the indicative clitic; for example, Thompson indicative yʼé =kʷ ‘you feel well’, nés =kp ‘you people go (there)’ vs. conjunctive yʼé =wxʷ ‘if you feel well’, nés =ut ‘(…and) we went (there)’, cʔés =up ‘when you people came’ (Thompson and Thompson 1992:61). In transitive conjunctive clauses, the predicate takes the transitive subject suffix, and in addition, the third person conjunctive clitic is attached regardless of the person of the subject. (37)  

Thompson (Thompson and Thompson 1992:76) sək-t-ép =us ‘(if) you people hit him’ (sək ‘hit’)

(38)      

Thompson (Egesdal et al. 2011:74) ʔe cùʔ =us xeʔe kʼəɬ-p-t-éxʷ … int ltd =3cnj nb catch.on-inc-tr-2sg.tr.sbj ‘Maybe you can catch [it]’

In Thompson and Shuswap, the subjects of nominalized intransitive clauses are marked by the possessive clitics, but those of transitive clauses are marked by the transitive subject suffixes, as in (39). (39)      

Thompson (Egesdal et al. 2011:534) ʔe k  s= kʷé-x-t-xʷ int unr nmlz= take-appl-tr-2sg.tr.sbj ‘And you’ll take its heart.’

ɬ  ep

sxʷéwkʷ-s heart-3poss

In Thompson, if there is an auxiliary preceding the predicate proper and the predicate is transitive, the subject is still marked by the transitive subject suffix on the predicate. In addition, the third person possessive clitic is attached to the auxiliary, regardless of the person of the subject, as in (40). (40)      

Thompson (Kroeber 1999:105) k= s= xʷuyʼ =s weʔe det= nmlz= fut =3poss there ‘that I will put it there’

ce-t-éne put-tr-1sg.tr.sbj

This construction parallels the conjunctive transitive clause in Thompson (and Shuswap), in which the third person conjunctive clitic appears, regardless of the person of the subject on the transitive predicate, as in (37, 38).

Salish 

 1097

Davis (2000) argues that this pattern observed in the transitive conjunctive and nominalized clauses in Thompson and Shuswap must have been the pattern in Proto-Salish; while the transitive subject suffix marked the subject, the third person subject clitics, that is, the conjunctive clitic and the possessive clitic, also appeared, regardless of the person of the subject. Davis (2000) further argues that this was the pattern in Proto-Salish also for the indicative transitive predicate, in which case the third person indicative clitic, which is phonologically null, appeared.

44.4.3 Coast Salish and Lillooet The Coast languages and Lillooet pattern quite similarly in terms of how the pronominal subject markers are used. The subject markers in Sliammon are given in Table 6. (Note the regular sound change from *k to č in Sliammon, as in many other Salishan languages.) Tab. 6: Sliammon Subject Markers32  

1sg

2sg

3 

1pl

2pl

Indicative clitic Possessive clitic Conjunctive clitic Transitive subject suffix

=čan ~ =č tᶿ= =an -an

=čaxʷ ~ =čxʷ θ= =axʷ -axʷ

∅  =s =as -as

=čat ~ =št ms= =at -at

=čap =ap =ap -ap

In the Coast languages (except Squamish), as in the Northern Interior languages, the indicative subject clitics generally follow the first prosodic word of the clause: for example, Sliammon ƛʼəq =čan ‘I go outside’, ƛʼəq =čaxʷ ‘you go outside’, ƛʼəq =čat ‘we go outside’, ƛʼəq =čap ‘you (pl.) go outside’ (ƛʼəq ‘he/she/they go outside’; See also 5, 7, 10a, 11, and 12). In some of these languages, however, the subject clitics can precede the clause-initial word; for example, Sliammon č= kʷi= huy ‘I am finished (huy)’, čxʷ= kʷi= huy ‘you are finished’. In the Coast languages and Lillooet, the subject of main (indicative) clauses is marked by the indicative clitics for both intransitive and transitive predicates, except for the third person subject in transitives where the transitive subject suffix -as is used. The use of indicative clitics for transitive subjects is an innovation from the Proto-Salish pattern. See (5, 7) for subject clitics, (3, 8) for the subject suffix. See (41a, b) for predicates with an auxiliary preceding the predicate proper: 32 I have made a change from previous studies on Sliammon (e.  g., Kroeber 1999, Watanabe 2003) by treating the possessive and conjunctive markers as clitics, rather than affixes. They are mobile, yet behave like affixes in some respect.

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(41a)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2002) hu =č čʼag-a-t-uɬ. go =1sg.indc.sbj help-lv-ctr-pst ‘I went and helped them.’

(41b)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2002) hu čʼag-a-t-as-uɬ. go help-lv-ctr-3tr.sbj-pst ‘He went and helped them.’

In (41a) the indicative clitic follows the first prosodic word of the clause, whereas in (41b), the third person subject suffix -as remains on the predicate proper. In this regard, Lushootseed underwent further change in that the third person subject suffix is not used here; instead the indicative clitic, which is zero, is used (42). (42)      

Lushootseed (Hess 1995:33) ʔu-ʔəyʼ-dxʷ =∅ pfv-find-ntr =3indc.sbj ‘Someone found the boy.’

ti= det=

čʼačʼas. child

The entire set of transitive subject suffixes in Sliammon appears only in relative clauses, in which the target of the relativization is the object; for example, tə= kʷina-t-axʷ ‘the one you carry’ (tə= det, kʷina(t) ‘carry’), šə= həy-t-anʼ-uɬ ‘the one I made’ (šə= det, həy ‘make’, -ʔuɬ pst). Conjunctive clauses are marked by the conjunctive subject clitics. In Coast Salish and Lillooet, the conjunctive subject clitics replace the indicative subject clitics, as in (43, 44). (43)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1998) ga= hah =an =səm if= go =1sg.cnj.sbj =fut ‘if I would go.’

(44)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1994) xʷaʔ =č tʼug-u-θi neg =1sg.indc.sbj recognize-lv-ctr+2sg.obj ‘I do not recognize you.’

=n =1sg.cnj.sbj

The conjunctive subject clitics attach to the preceding auxiliary, if there is one, as in (45, 46). (45)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2002) taw-θi-huɬ =č hah =axʷ tell-ctr+2sg.obj-pst =1sg.indc.sbj go =2sg.cnj.sbj ‘I told you to go and help him.’

čʼag-a-t help-lv-ctr

Salish 

 1099

If the subject of the conjunctive clause is the third person, and if there is an auxiliary preceding the predicate proper, and the predicate is transitive, the conjunctive clitic attaches to the auxiliary and the transitive subject suffix on the predicate proper, as in (46). (46)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2002) taw-t-uɬ =čən qʷəl =as tell-ctr-pst =1sg.indc.sbj come =3cnj.sbj ‘I told him to come and help me.’

čʼag-a-θ-as help-lv-ctr+1sg.obj-3tr.sbj

The same construction is observed in other Coast languages (except Lushootseed) and Lillooet (Kroeber 1999:92). In nominalized clauses, the subject is marked by the possessive clitics, as in (47–50): (47)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1997) ɬəx̣-sxʷ-as kʷ= s= čʼə~čʼx̣-a-t=s bad-caus-3tr.sbj det= nmlz= ipfv~cook-lv-ctr=3poss ‘He dislikes cooking food.’

(48)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1991) čʼag-a-θi =tᶿəm kʷə= help-lv-ctr+2sg.obj =1sg.indc.sbj det= ‘I will help you when you dig clams.’

(49)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2002) kʼʷən-i-t-anapi-huɬ =č s= kʷu= θah =ap qʼʷit-sxʷ-uɬ see-stv-ctr-2pl.obj-pst =1sg.indc.sbj nmlz= clt= go =2pl.poss beach-caus-pst ‘I saw you (pl.) take it to the beach.’

θ= 2sg.poss=

kʷ= ʔiɬtən det= eat/food

ʔuɬqʷu dig.clam

=səm =fut

Note that, in Sliammon, when the possessive markers are proclitics, the nominalizer s= does not appear, as in (48), and the possessive clitics attach to the auxiliary, if there is one preceding the predicate proper, as in (49). If the subject of a nominalized transitive clause is third person, and if there is an auxiliary preceding the predicate proper, the third person possessive clitic attaches to the auxiliary, as expected, and the predicate proper is also marked by the third person transitive subject suffix, as in (50): (50)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2002) kʼʷən-i-t-uɬ =č s= hu =s see-stv-ctr-pst =1sg.indc.sbj nmlz= go =3poss ‘I saw him go and help her.’

čʼag-a-t-as-uɬ help-lv-ctr-3tr.sbj-pst

Descriptions of other Coast languages are not clear on this type of nominalized clause. Kroeber (1999:103) found relevant data only from Halkomelem (citing Leslie 1979). ­Squamish is well-described by Kuipers (1967), and it shows a similar construction but is more complicated.

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44.4.4 Tsamosan A significant change took place in three of the four languages in the Tsamosan branch; Upper Chehalis, Lower Chehalis, and Cowlitz use subject clitics and subject suffixes according to aspect: the clitics are used for predicates in the perfective (non-continuative, stative, ‘completive’) aspect and the suffixes for those in the imperfective (continuative) aspect. The forms are shown in Table 7. (For this historical development in Upper Chehalis, see Kroeber 1998.) Tab. 7: Upper Chehalis Subject Markers (Kinkade 1991:366)  

1sg

2sg

3sg

1pl

2pl

3pl

Perfective sbj. clitic Imperfective sbj. suffix

=čn -anš

=č -š

∅  -n

=čɬ -stawt

=čalp -alp

=yamš -iɬt

The pairs of examples in (51, 52, and 53) show predicates in the perfective aspect in (a) and those in the imperfective in (b). (ʔit marks the perfective aspect and s- the imperfective aspect.) (51)    

Upper Chehalis (Kinkade 1991:367) a. ʔit ʔílʼn =čn ‘I sang.’ (ʔílʼan ‘sing’) b. s-ʔílʼan-anš ‘I am singing.’

(52)    

Upper Chehalis (Kinkade 1991:367) a. ʔit ʔílʼn ‘He/She sang.’ b. s-ʔílʼan-n ‘He/She is singing.’

(53)    

Upper Chehalis (Kinkade 1991:367) a. ʔit cʼax̣ʷ-ə́c ‘He/She washed me.’ (cʼə́xʷ̣ ‘clean, wash’, -c 1sg.obj) b. s-cʼə́xʷ̣ -cal-n ‘He/She is washing me.’ (-cal 1sg.obj)

Among the four Tsamosan languages, Quinault is the only one that does not have two sets of subject markers according to aspect. Instead, Quinault has just one set of subject clitics, as in Table 8. Tab. 8: Quinault Subject Clitics (Rowicka 2006:459)  

1sg

2sg

3

1pl

2pl

Subject clitic

č 

čxʷ ~ kʷ

∅ 

kl

čp ~ čm

 1101

Salish 

What look like two different series of clitics according to aspect in Quinault are the result of coalescence of the clitics in Table 8 and the following aspect marker. Thus, in the perfective aspect, the subject clitics are fused with the following perfective marker ʔit ~ ʔat: 1sg čit, 2sg kʷit ~ kʷət, 3 ∅ (+ ʔit ~ ʔat), 1pl kəl(ə)t, 2pl čəm(ə)t. The imperfective aspect has no overt marker, thus the clitics appear as follows: 1sg č, 2sg čəxʷ ~ čxʷ, 3 ∅, 1pl kəɬ ~ kɬ, 2pl čəp ~ čp (Rowicka 2006).

44.4.5 Bella Coola Bella Coola has a single set of suffixes that mark both possessive and intransitive subjects, and another set that marks the transitive subject, as in Table 9. Tab. 9: Bella Coola Possessive/Subject Suffixes (Newman 1969, Nater 1984)  

1sg

2sg

3sg

1pl

2pl

3pl

Poss./Intransitive sbj. suffix Transitive sbj. suffix

-c -c

-nu -xʷ

-∅ ~ -s -s

-(i)ɬ -ɬ

-(n)ap -(a)p

-(n)aw -t

The possessive/intransitive subject suffixes are used on nouns, for example, mna-c ‘my child (mna)’, mna-nu ‘your child’, and on intransitive verbs, for example, ksnṃak-c ‘I work (ksnṃak)’, ksnṃak-nu ‘you work’ (Nater 1984:31). Table 10 shows the object suffixes in Bella Coola. Tab. 10: Bella Coola Object Suffixes (Nater 1984)  

1sg

2sg

3sg

1pl

2pl

3pl

Neutral Causative

-c(an) -m ~ -man(ts)

-nu -nu

-i -∅

-tuɬ -muɬ

-ap -(n)ap

-ti -ti

When the first person and third person objects are involved, the morpheme order is ‘object-subject’, as expected of Salish languages: (54)    

Bella Coola a. ʔipʼ-i-s ‘he grabbed it.’ (ʔipʼ ‘grab’) (Davis and Saunders 1980:15) b. ka= knix-c-xʷ ‘you (sg.) will eat me.’ (ka= irrealis, knix ‘eat’) (Davis and Saunders 1980:78)

However, when the second person object is involved, the order is ‘subject-object’, and the forms of the first person subject suffixes are different from those in Table 9; when

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used with the second person object in the Neutral set, they are 1sg -ci, 1sg/pl. -tuɬ, and with those in the Causative set, they are 1sg -mi, 1sg/pl. -muɬ (Nater 1984:38–40). For example, see (55), in which the subject suffixes are in boldface. (55)      

Bella Coola (Nater 1984:38–40) a. ʔaɬ-ʔawɬ-ci-nu ‘I follow you (sg.).’ (ʔaɬ- stative-progressive, ʔawɬ- ‘follow’) b. ʔaɬ-ʔawɬ-tuɬ-ap ‘I/we follow you (pl.).’ c. ʔaɬps-tu-mi-nu ‘I feed you (sg.)’ (ʔaɬps ‘eat’, -tu caus) d. ʔaɬps-tu-muɬ-ap ‘I/we feed you (pl.).’

For predicates involving the second person object and the third person subject, the passive forms are used (Nater 1984:38).

44.4.6 Tillamook Material on Tillamook is quite limited; this is unfortunate given its geographical location and apparent idiosyncratic historical development. There are significant changes in the subject markers from Proto-Salish. Some of their forms can be explained straightforwardly; the initial gʷ in the conjunctive subject markers is the result of a regular sound change *w > gʷ in Tillamook, as is š (from *xʷ) in the second singular forms. Some other forms are difficult to explain, for which see discussions in Kroeber (1999:23–24, 93–94). Tab. 11: Tillamook Subject Markers (Egesdal and Thompson 1998; Kroeber 1999:23, 94)33  

1sg

2sg

3

1pl

2pl

Subject suffix Conjunctive (Intransitive) Conjunctive (Transitive)

-i -gʷən, -gʷa, -kʷ -n, -a

-əš -gʷəš -aš (-əš?)

-∅ -gʷəs -as (-əs?)

-yəɬ -git, -kt -g(ʷ?)it, -kt

-yaləh -gʷələ́lə - (gʷ)əlalə(h)

A drastic change has taken place in Tillamook in that a single set of suffixes mark the subject of both intransitive (56) and transitive predicates (57): (56)      

Tillamook (Egesdal and Thompson 1998:247) gʷəʔ ƛʼə́q-š fut stop-2sg.sbj ‘You are going to stop.’

33 Table 11 is based on Egesdal and Thompson (1998) and Kroeber (1999:23, 94). For the conjunctive subject markers, Egesdal and Thompson (1998) provide only those used for intransitive predicates, and they analyze the markers as clitics. Kroeber’s (1999:94) description is based on Edel (1939) and unpublished materials by Edel, Franz Boas, and Laurence C. Thompson and M. Terry Thompson.

Salish 

(57)      

 1103

Tillamook (Egesdal and Thompson 1998:247) tkʼʷ-ani-wín-i place-ear-rlt-1sg.sbj ‘I heard it.’

Instead of ∅ in Table 11, the third person transitive subject is marked by -əs, but only sporadically; this is undoubtedly the reflex of that in Proto-Salish, *-as.

44.4.7 Southern Interior languages The indicative subject clitics are proclitics in the Southern Interior languages; for example, Spokane čən= ʔemút ‘I sat’, kʷ= ʔemút ‘you sat’, qeʔ= emút ‘we sat’, p= ʔemút ‘you (pl.) sat’ (ʔemút ‘he/she/they sat’) (Carlson 1972:35). The Southern Interior languages have entirely lost the conjunctive clitics, except a remnant in Coeur d’Alene (Kroeber 1999:97–98); what are expressed by conjunctive clauses in other Salishan languages are expressed mostly in indicative clauses. The Southern Interior languages developed additional paradigms of transitive predicates, apparently from an erstwhile nominalized predicate. All of the paradigms occur with prefixes that historically contain the nominalizer *s-; for example, Coeur d’Alene yʼc-/ʔic- is from *s-ʔac-, the nominalizer followed by the aspect prefix (Kroeber 1999:224). In the transitive paradigm used for the continuative aspect and for one of the two irrealis forms, how subject and object are marked is significantly different from how they are marked in all other Salish languages; the subject of the predicate is marked by the possessive markers and the object by the indicative subject clitics. No transitivizer suffix appears; instead, it is replaced by the suffix -(V)m, which is presumably an intransitive marker (see Doak 1997:80–81 for the Coeur d’Alene -m). See (58) and (59) from Coeur d’Alene (the second line provides the morphemic analysis): (58)        

Coeur d’Alene (Doak 1997:179) čiʔčɛšms čn= yʼc-čɛš-m-s 1sg.indc.sbj= cont-accompany-m-3poss ‘He is accompanying me.’

(59)        

Coeur d’Alene (Doak 1997:178) kʷiʔ-c-gʷič-əm kʷ= hn-yʼc-gʷič-m 2sg.indc.sbj= 1sg.poss-cont-see-m ‘I am seeing thee.’

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Note that the indicative subject clitics, which are used to mark the subjects of intransitive predicates, refer to the object in this construction. (Compare with intransitive predicates, e.  g., čn= ʔácqɛʔ ‘I went out’, kʷu= ʔácqɛʔ ‘you went out.’; See Doak 1997:173–186, Kroeber 1999:223–226 for more detail.)

44.5 Other complex sentence structures 44.5.1 Negation Davis (2005) examines the negation constructions across the Salishan family in detail and attempts to reconstruct the Proto-Salish constructions. He classifies three syntactic patterns (and a minor variation), of which two (his Patterns A and B below) go back to Proto-Salish. The first type (Pattern A) uses a negative predicate that takes a nominalized subordinate clause, as in (60) from Cowlitz: (60)    

Cowlitz (Kinkade 2004:273) míɬta t  n= s-pút-n neg det 1sg.poss= nmlz-know-tr ‘I don’t know.’

This is the most widespread pattern among the Salishan languages. The second type (Pattern B) uses a negative predicate that takes a conjunctive clause, as in (61) from Sliammon: (61)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1991) xʷaʔ =č təx̣ʷ-nxʷ =an neg =1sg.indc.sbj know-ntr =1sg.cnj.sbj ‘I don’t know.’

Pattern B is found in Sliammon, Sechelt, and Halkomelem. The third type (Pattern C) uses a negative particle (followed sometimes by a irrealis particle) before the predicate, whose morphology is the same as in the main (indicative) clause. (62)      

Tillmook (Egesdal and Thompson 1998:254) qeš qe n-x̣ʷayʼəš-əwʼí-n-i k= s-qéx̣eʔ neg unr loc-afraid-rlt-tr-1sg.sbj art= nmlz-dog ‘I am not afraid of dogs.’

Pattern C is found in Bella Coola, Tillamook, and Southern Interior Salish (though Kalispel uses Pattern A primarily and only secondarily Pattern C).

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 1105

Davis (2005) argues that Pattern A involves negative existential quantification, and points out that those languages that do not use Pattern A have a different negator and construction for existential negation, as in Sliammon (63)34: (63)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 1998) xʷukʷt ʔə= kʷ= tala-s neg obl= det= money-3poss ‘He has no money.’ (lit. ‘his money does not exist.’)

44.5.2 Relative clauses Relative clause constructions are described in detail in Kroeber (1999). In this section, those found in Sliammon are described (see Watanabe 2003:122–145 for details). Relative clauses take different forms in Salishan languages according to the target of relativization: direct arguments (subject and object), core obliques, and non-core obliques. Relative clauses can be headed or headless. Those targeting the subject and the object have the same form as the main clause, except that the subject marker is omitted in subject-targeted relative clauses. Thus, in (64) the NP, enclosed in brackets for expository purpose, contains the head (saɬtxʷ ‘woman’) followed by the relative clause (x̣əna-θ-uɬ). The third person transitive subject suffix (-as) is omitted. (64)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2002) kʼʷən-əxʷ-uɬ =č [šə= saɬtxʷ see-ntr-pst =1sg.indc.sbj det= woman ‘I saw the woman who gave it to me.’

x̣əna-θ-uɬ] give-ctr+1sg.obj-pst

In relative clauses whose target of relativization are core obliques, the subject is marked by the possessive marker: (65)      

Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2002) ʔəy-sxʷ-mut =č š= həy-ʔəm-θ-ʔu =s good-caus-very =1sg.indc.sbj det= make-appl-ctr+1sg.obj-pst =3poss ‘I really like the one he made for me.’

When the target of relativization is a noncore oblique, the subject is marked by the possessive marker, and the relative clause is preceded by the ‘oblique nominalizer’ xʷ=, as in (66):

34 The distribution of the different patterns of negation and separate existential negation constructions is more complicated. See Davis (2005) for details.

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Sliammon (speaker: Mary George, 2002) kʼʷas-mut šə= xʷ= θu =s pʼapʼi-m hot-very det= nmlz= go =3poss work-mdl ‘It is hot where he goes and works.’

44.6 Final remarks As we have seen in this chapter, the Salishan languages are replete with typologically interesting features, which have intrigued linguists for over a century. Even after a century, linguists still continue to marvel at the complexity of these languages and how they have diversified. As a final remark, here is an anecdote, well-known among the Salishanists. Kenneth L. Hale (1934–2001), a renowned linguist, who worked on many indigenous languages of North America and Australia, was also known as a polyglot, and spoke over fifty languages fluently. He undoubtedly studied hundreds more languages. In his obituary, Aram A. Yengoyan recalls asking him which language would represent the extreme polar opposite of English. After pondering for thirty minutes, Hale answered that it would be Coast Salish.35

Further Reading For general survey of the Salishan family: Czaykowska-Higgins & Kinkade (1998), Thompson (1979a), Thompson & Kinkade (1990), Kinkade et al. (1998), Kroeber (1999), Davis (2020), Davis and Matthewson (2009). Van Eijk (2008) is an annotated bibliography of linguistic works (and some broader studies) on Salish. It is comprehensive up to 2008. For the history of the family: Kuipers’s etymological dictionary (Kuipers 2002), Kroeber (1999), Davis (2000 on pronominals, and 2005 on negation). For non-linguists, Montler’s Klallam Grammar (2015) and Hess’s Lushootseed Reader (1995, 1998) are very accessible and are excellent places to start. More detailed and comprehensive, yet still very accessible grammar is Suttles’s Musqueam Grammar (2004).

35 Yengoyan, Aram A. 2003. Kenneth L. Hale. American Anthropologist. 105. pp. 222–225.

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Sapir, Edward. 1921. A bird’s-eye view of American languages north of Mexico. Science New Series 54. 408. [Reprinted in William Bright (ed.). 1990. The collected works of Edward Sapir, Vol. 5: American Indian Languages 1, 93–94. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.] Sapir, Edward. 1911. The problem of noun incorporation in American languages, American Anthropologist 13. 250–282. [Reprinted in William Bright (ed.). 1990. The collected works of Edward Sapir, Vol. 5, American Indian languages 1. 27–60. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.] Sapir, Edward. 1929. Central and North American Languages. Encyclopaedia Brittanica 5. 138–141. (14th edition). London/New York: Encyclopaedia Brittanica Company. [Reprinted in David G. Mandelbaum (ed.). 1949. Selected writings of Edward Sapir in language, culture and personality, 169–178. Berkeley/Los Angeles: University of California Press.; also reprinted in William Bright (ed.). 1990. The collected works of Edward Sapir, Vol. 5, American Indian languages 1. 95–104. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.] Seymour, Peter J. 2015. The complete Seymour: Colville storyteller. Compiled and edited by Anthony Mattina. Lincoln/London: University of Nebraska Press. Shank, Scott. 2001. And-fronting and the copula in Upper Chehalis. ICSNL 36. 265–289. (UBCWPL 6). Shaw, Patricia A. 2002. On the edge: Obstruent clusters in Salish. Proceedings of WSCLA 7. 119–136. (UBCWPL 10). Shaw, Patricia A. 2004. Reduplicant order and identity: Never trust a Salish CVC either? In Donna Gerdts & Lisa Matthewson (eds.). Studies in Salish linguistics: In honore of M. Dale Kinkade, 328–353. (UMOPL 17). Missoula: University of Montana. Snow, Charles T. 1969. A Lower Chehalis phonology. M.A. thesis, University of Kansas. Suttles, Wayne. 2004. Musqueam reference grammar. Vancouver: UBC Press. Swadesh, Morris. 1949. The linguistic approach to Salish prehistory. In Marian W. Smith, (ed.), Indians of the urban Northwest, 161–173. New York: Columbia University Press. Swadesh, Morris. 1950. Salish internal relationships. IJAL 16. 157–167. Swadesh, Morris. 1952. Salish phonologic geography. Language 28. 232–248. Swadesh, Morris. 1953a. Mosan I: A problem of remote common origin. IJAL 19. 26–44. Swadesh, Morris. 1953b. Mosan II: Comparative vocabulary. IJAL 19. 223–236. Swadesh, Morris. 1953c. Salish-Wakashan lexical comparisons noted by Boas. IJAL 19. 290–291. Thompson, Laurence C. 1979a. Salishan and the Northwest. In Lyle Campbell and Marianne Mithun (eds.), The languages of Native America: Historical and comparative assessment, 692–765. Austin/London: University of Texas Press. Thompson, Laurence C. 1979b. The control system: A major category in the grammar of Salishan languages. In Barbara S. Efrat (ed.), The Victoria conference on Northwestern languages, 156–174. (Heritage Record 4). Victoria, B.C.: British Columbia Provincial Museum. Thompson, Laurence C. 1985. Control in Salish grammar. In Frans Plank (ed.), Relational typology, 391–428. (Trends in Linguistics, Studies and Monographs 28). Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Thompson, Laurence C. & M. Dale Kinkade. 1990. Languages. In Wayne Suttles (vol. ed.), Handbook of North American Indians. Vol. 7: Northwest Coast, 30–51. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution. Thompson, Laurence C. & M. Terry Thompson. 1992. The Thompson language. (UMOPL 8). Missoula: University of Montana. Thompson, Laurence C. & M. Terry Thompson. 1996. Thompson River Salish dictionary. (UMOPL 12). Missoula: University of Montana. Thompson, Laurence C., M. Terry Thompson & Barbara S. Efrat. 1974 Some phonological developments in Straits Salish. IJAL 40. 182–196. Urbanczyk, Suzanne. 2004. Plurality and ablaut in Central Salish. In Donna B. Gerdts & Lisa Matthewson (eds.), Studies in Salish linguistics in honor of M. Dale Kindake, 429–453. (UMOPL 17). Missoula: University of Montana. Van Eijk, Jan P. 1990. VC reduplication in Salish. Anthropological Linguistics 32. 228–262. Van Eijk, Jan P. 1997. The Lillooet language: Phonology, morphology, syntax. Vancouver: UBC Press.

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Van Eijk, Jan P. 1998. CVC reduplication in Salish. In Ewa Czaykowska-Higgins & M. Dale Kinkade (eds.), 453–476. Van Eijk, Jan P. 2008. A bibliography of Salish linguistics. Northwest Journal of Linguistics 2(3). 1–128. Van Eijk, Jan P. & Thom Hess. 1986. Noun and verb in Salish. Lingua 69. 319–331. Van Eijk, Jan P., & Hank Nater. 2020. Some notes on Proto-Salish phonology. ICSNL 55. 326–345. Vogt, Hans. 1940a. The Kalispel language. Oslo: Det Norske Videnskaps-Akademi. Vogt, Hans. 1940b. Salishan studies: Comparative notes on Kalispel, Spokan, Colville, and Coeur d’Alene. (Historisk-Filosofisk Klasse 2). Oslo: Det Norske Videnskaps-Akademi. Watanabe, Honoré. 2003. A morphological description of Sliammon, Mainland Comox Salish, with a sketch of syntax. (Endangered Languages of the Pacific Rim Publication Series, A2-040). Suita (Osaka): Osaka Gakuin University. Watanabe, Honoré. 2010. A look at ‘noun’ and ‘verb’ in Sliammon. In David Beck (ed.), A festschrift for Thomas M. Hess on the occasion of his seventieth birthday, 179–196. (Whatcom Museum Publications No. 21). Bellingham: Whatcom Museum. Willett, Marie L. 2003. A grammatical sketch of Nxa’amxcin (Moses-Columbia Salish). Ph.D. dissertation, University of Victoria.

Philip T. Duncan, Valerie (Lamxayat) Switzler, and Henry B. Zenk

45 Chinookan family, with special reference to Kiksht and notes on Chinuk Wawa Abstract: This chapter introduces aspects of the history, use, and grammatical features of the so-called “Chinookan” languages, which were originally spoken along the lower Columbia River in Oregon and Washington, from the Pacific Ocean upstream to just above The Dalles, Oregon. We pay special attention to Kiksht (ISO 639-3: wac) as a representative of grammatical patterns common in the family, such as building sentences from richly inflected nouns and verbs and having a sound system with a large number of consonants and a small number of vowels. Our choice to highlight Kiksht is because it is the only Chinookan language spoken today, and we hope that this chapter will be of immediate use to Wasco people who speak, hear, read, teach, and learn the Kiksht language—people for whom the Kiksht language is their sovereign right. Highlighting the enduring legacy of Chinookan languages beyond Kiksht, we include a historical note on Chinuk Wawa (ISO 639-3: chn), a pidgin-creole with strong roots in Chinookan. Formerly a lingua franca used across much of the Pacific Northwest and beyond, Chinuk Wawa is currently used as a heritage language by the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde, Oregon, and the Chinook Indian Nation, Bay Center, Washington.

45.1 Distribution and revitalization In the community of Warm Springs, Oregon is the remnants of an old school campus where students were denied the right to speak in their own languages, practice their cultures and be proud of their heritage. An on-reservation boarding school, removal and relocation, and subsequent assimilationist policies worked to eradicate these birthrights from the children of the three tribal groups residing there: Warm Springs, Wasco, and Paiute. Sadly, it nearly accomplished its goal. Where there were once three native languages vibrantly spoken—Ichishkiin, Kiksht, and Numu—only one of these languages has first language speakers. Though each language is in need of different approaches to rebuild its language community, all three groups “share a dedication to Indigenous language maintenance and revitalization” (Switzler & Haynes 2014:236). The three Warm Springs languages come from distinct language families: Sahaptian (Ichishkiin) (see Jansen, this volume), Uto-Aztecan (Numu) (see Elliot and Shaul, this volume), and Chinookan1 (Kiksht), the focus of this chapter. The Chinookan family 1 The term “Chinookan” for the language family has been used in linguistic literature for quite some time. We wish to acknowledge, though, that community members at Warm Springs have indicated a strong dispreference for the term, at least partially because the family takes on the name of an actual tribe. This dispreference was also held by some older tribal members who have now passed. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-045

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CC BY-SA 3.0. Fig. 1: Map showing the approximate locations of traditional Kiksht-, Kathlamet-, Chinook-, and Clatsopspeaking areas along the Columbia River in present-day Oregon and Washington, along with neighboring languages. Adapted from Columbiarivermap by Kmusser.

likewise consists of three languages—Lower Chinook (Chinook and Clatsop), Kathlamet, and Kiksht/Upper Chinook—originally spoken in village clusters along the Columbia River from the Oregon and Washington coast to just above The Dalles (see Figure 1). Two of these (Lower Chinook and Kathlamet) are “sleeping” (Hinton 2001, Leonard 2008), having become dormant in the early- and mid-twentieth centuries, respectively. Kathlamet and Upper Chinook lay at opposite ends of what was likely a single dialect chain. At the eastern end are three dialects (Clackamas, Cascades, Wasco-Wishram) collectively known as Kiksht. Of all the Chinookan varieties spoken into the early twentieth century, only Wasco-Wishram Kiksht is still spoken today. Kiksht’s resilience is much due to extensive efforts of the Wasco Language Program at Warm Springs. Although the Kiksht language lost their one remaining first language speaker in 2012,2 three apprentices worked on their fluency daily while the elders were 2 Because of this, Kiksht is sometimes falsely labeled as “extinct” (Wilce 2017:73) or “dormant” (Eberhard, Simons, & Fennig 2019). Campbell & Belew (2018) list Kiksht as “dormant” and “formerly spoken in the United States of America” (emphasis added), which silences/erases current use. While we understand the basis for such (mis)labeling, we also recognize that the “many ways to talk about language” are not neutral, and carry “political and social implications” (Leonard 2008:32), including contested discourses



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alive, taught Kiksht as part of the learning process, and remain active language teachers. Each in their late 50’s, they realize that they are now the elders of the language. To date there are over 200 archived recordings still needing transcription and translation (many are in Kono 2015). These recordings will help the language teachers build their language base with skills they independently learned at the university level and more importantly from the elders themselves. The language program has worked diligently for 25 years to build the three Warm Springs languages. Kiksht reaches students in the Elementary program, language lessons on the native radio station, and for-credit classes at the local college; additionally, language teachers are building a high-school program for dual-credit courses. Advocacy, training, and persistence have helped build awareness and beginning-level speakers. The program continually assesses how to nurture proficiency in conversational arenas and work toward building master speakers. Kiksht has three elder speakers and boasts nearly 30 students working on their language fluency. The work is far from done and there is a long way to go. With language competitions, regular presence at the school, lessons aired on local radio, words written and posted on bulletin boards, booklets, social media presence, and commitment of the three teachers, the renaissance we have been waiting for will come to pass. The 30 students are our hope for a revitalization of the Kiksht Language for generations to come. The position of Kiksht within the Chinookan family is unique. Only here, at the eastern/upriver limit of the family’s territory, did Chinookan retain vitality into the present, owing to the survival of intact communities of speakers in The Dalles region and (subsequently) at the nearby Warm Springs and Yakama Reservations. However, while Kiksht is the only Chinookan language still actively used today, aspects of Chinookan also find expression in Chinuk Wawa,3 a pidgin-creole with strong influences from Lower Chinook (Zenk & Johnson 2013). Chinuk Wawa in its varying regional forms was formerly used as a lingua franca across a wide portion of the Pacific Northwest (including Washington and Oregon in the United States and British Columbia in Canada) and beyond (parts of Alaska, Idaho, Montana, and California) (Grant 1996, Robertson 2011–2023).. A distinctive form of Chinuk Wawa from the lower Columbia is currently being revived and taught as a community heritage language under the Chinuk Wawa Language Program of the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde in northwest Oregon (Zenk & Cole 2019).

of “speakerhood” and “fluency.” We thus intentionally avoid using the label “extinct” in reference to Kiksht to acknowledge current use in the Warm Springs community. 3 Both in local English and local Indigenous languages, Chinuk Wawa often is referred to by the same name applied historically to Chinookan itself—“Chinook” ([tʃʰɪnʊ́ k]). This usage reflects the fact that by the mid-1800s, downriver Chinookans were using primarily Chinuk Wawa to communicate with foreigners. Subsequent English-language sources disambiguate the tribal language (Chinook/Chinookan) from the pidgin-creole by terming the latter Chinook Jargon. The hybrid’s proper autonym is Chinuk Wawa (from wawa, meaning ‘speech, language’ both in Chinuk Wawa and Kiksht), adopted by the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde.

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45.2 Grammatical sketch, with special reference to Kiksht 45.2.1 Sounds 45.2.1.1 Consonants and vowels The sounds of Chinookan languages are common to the Pacific Northwest region and the Plateau linguistic area (Kinkade et al. 1998, Mithun 1999, Hargus & Beavert 2014). Consonant inventories are fairly large (each having around 30+ consonants), with relatively small vowel inventories (Silverstein 2001). One reason Chinookan languages have many consonants is that they feature “glottalization,” so named because the glottis (the opening in between one’s vocal cords) closes and raises to create extra force in the sound, a bit like a pop when released. Using phonetic symbols to represent the sounds,4 this includes [p’, t’, k’, ts’, tʃ’, tɬ’], glottalized versions of [p, t, k, ts, tʃ, tɬ]. Chinookan languges also have multiple “l” sounds, known as “laterals” because air surrounds the sides of the tongue when going out the mouth. Beyond [l], this includes [ɬ, tɬ, tɬ’].5 Another source of contrasts is when a “w”-like sound immediately follows another but is actually part of that sound and not itself a second, separate sound. This is known as “labialization.” Examples include [kʷ, qʷ, χʷ], which are labialized versions of [k, q, χ]. All these features are fairly common among languages of the Pacific Northwest. Kiksht has 38 consonants and 4 vowels (Figures 2 and 3, respectively, where the orthographic symbols are organized based on phonetic properties).6 The colored shapes 4 When mentioning Chinookan sounds broadly, we use phonetic symbols, since there is no single practical orthography for all the Chinookan languages. When talking about Kiksht sounds, we use orthographic symbols currently used in the Warm Springs community. 5 Boas’s record of Lower Chinook and Kathlamet shows one non-glottalized voiceless lateral, interpreted by Hymes (1955:25–33) as [tɬ]. Hymes later concluded (personal communications to Henry B. Zenk and Tony A. Johnson, 1995) that Boas was wrong on this point, and that Lower Chinook and Kathlamet had [ɬ] much more frequently than [tɬ], like Kiksht and Chinuk Wawa. Particularly persuasive in c­ hanging Hymes’s mind on this point were the Lower Chinook and Kathlamet transcriptions of W. E. Myers, published in Curtis (1970:180–183, 198–205). These clearly show a contrast between [ɬ] and [tɬ], with [ɬ] much more frequent than [tɬ]. See Zenk, Hajda, & Boyd (2008) for a discussion of Myers’s contribution to Chinookan studies. 6 Compare Silverstein 1990:533 for Chinookan, generally. Figure 2 shows voiced stops for all relevant places of articulation. Voicing does not, however, appear to be contrastive across Chinookan languages. This also holds somewhat for Kiksht: voiceless stops (p, t, k, q) become voiced (b, d, g, g̱) in special circumstances, such as between vowels or before nasals. Several Kiksht words with voiced stops (e.  g., the postposition bama ‘for’) are loanwords from nearby Indigenous languages (see Sapir’s section “Post-positions in Wishram” in Boas 1911:650–654). However, voicing in Kiksht also operates as a register marker (discussed below) (cf. Hymes 1955:21–24), where voicing alternations do contribute to semantic and/or pragmatic differences. As Silverstein (2001:42) notes, the pervasiveness and richness of this system in



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surrounding the symbols in Figure 3 show that vowel symbols have quite a bit of variation in terms of how they sound. For example, the u symbol in Kiksht words can sound like the “oo” in English ‘boot’, the “u” in ‘put’, and the the “oa” in ‘boat’.   Plosive Ejective plosive Nasal Fricative Lateral fricative Affricate Lateral affricate Ejective affricate Ejective lateral affricate Approximant Lateral approximant

Bil. p  p’                  

Alv.

b  t    t’ m      s    ɬ    c    tɬ   c’   tɬ’ w       

Post-alv.

d        n      sh       ch       ch’         l   

Pal.                      

                  y   

Vel. k  k’   x               

Lab.-vel.

Uv.

g  kw gw q    k’w   q’           xw   x̱                                                        

Lab.-uv. Glot.

g̱ qw   q’w       x̱w                            

g̱w ʔ            h                             

Fig. 2: Kiksht consonants (orthographic symbols).

Fig. 3: Kiksht vowels (orthographic symbols), showing approximate distributions based on F1 × F2 plots for each (tokens from a single speaker, Gladys Thompson). Analysis and vizualization by Tom Lieber (used with permission).

45.2.1.2 Sound symbolism Kikhst has a unique speech style that systematically manipulates sounds in words to add new layers of meaning. In the Wasco community, this is known as “talking big” and “talking small” (Millstein, n.d.), a distinction known as “augmentatitive” and “diminutive” in linguistic literature (Sapir, from Boas 1911:638). This stylistic variation is a

Kiksht is “unique” in the Chinookan language family. For these reasons, we include voiced stops in the Kiksht consonant inventory.

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type of feature-based sound symbolism.7 Table 1 summarizes the various sound-level properties that serve as the source of this “gradation in sound features” (Silverstein 2001:389), such as place (where in the vocal tract the articulation occurs), and manner (how the sound happens). Tab. 1: Phonetic differences association with “talking big” and “talking small” (Silverstein 2001:389) Register type

Talking small

Normal/ neutral speech

Talking big

Semantic meaning

Diminutive

 

Augmentative

Pragmatic meaning(s)

Positive connotation; conveys   endearment, subtlety; used in “baby talk”

Negative connotation ­meaning something is ­“excessive”; used in mocking

Sound variation (consonants)

p’, t’, k’ c s  kw qw

p, t, k     k   

b, d, g tɬ sh q  qp/qb

Sound variation (vowels) 

e  i 

   

a  e 

Example (1) from Kiksht illustrates how this way of speaking produces stylized versions (1a, c) of a base/neutral word (1b).8, 9

7 Prompted by Sapir’s description of this system, Boas (1911:645–646) searched his Lower Chinook and Kathlamet data for similar sound shifts. He found some examples of diminutivization—[ʃ] to [s] and [tʃ] to [ts], plus one example of [g] to [k’]—but nothing like the richly productive system of Kiksht. Hymes (1992) identified additional Kathlamet examples. A richer source of examples is provided by the Chinookan-contributed part of the Chinuk Wawa lexicon, which shows frequent shifts of Chinookan [ʃ], [tʃ] to Chinuk Wawa [s], [ts], plus some shifts of plain to glottalized consonants (Zenk & Johnson 2005). From a Chinookan speaker’s point of view, Chinuk Wawa could perhaps be described as a “little Chinookan.” 8 Abbreviations in this chapter follow the Leipzig Glossing Rules whenever possible, and include: 1 = 1st person, 2 = 2nd person, 3 = 3rd person, abs = absolutive, aor = aorist, an = animate, asp = aspect, aug = augmentative, caus = causative, coll = collective, cont = continuative, dat = dative, dim = diminutive, dir = directional, distr = distributive, du = dual, erg = ergative, excl = exclusive, f = feminine, fut = future, gen = genitive, ipfv = imperfective, imm = immediate, loc = locative, m = masculine, mot = motion, myt = mythic, neg = negative, pass = passive, pfv = perfective, pl = plural, prs = present, pst = past, q = question particle, rec = recent, refl = reflexive, rem = remote, sg = singular. 9 The singular translation is given by Silverstein (2001). Idmípsh can have the meaning ‘your feet’.



(1)        

Chinookan family, with special reference to Kiksht and notes on Chinuk Wawa 

Sound symbolism in Kiksht (Silverstein 2001:388) a. it’míp’s b. idmípsh   it’-mí-p’s   id-mí-psh   pl.dim-2sg-foot.dim   pl-2sg-foot   ‘your foot’   ‘your foot’

c.      

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idmí[bʒ] id-mí-[bʒ] pl-2sg-head.aug ‘your foot’

In normal/neutral speech, psh ‘foot’ consists of two consonants, p and sh. These sounds are “voiceless” because the vocal cords do not vibrate when pronounced. Talking big renders these consonants voiced, as in [bʒ],10 whereas talking small involves two changes: the plain voiceless stop p becomes glottalized p’, and the sh sound is produced more toward the front of the mouth, resulting in s. Additionally, (1a) shows that this sound change process operates at the level of words and not simply roots or stems. The gender/noun class prefix (underlyingly it-, but id- when neutral by virtue of preceding m) is thus realized as it’-. The pragmatic effect or “emotional coloring” (Millstein, n.d.:28) of talking big/small is multifaceted, rooted in evaluations and stances of speakers (Silverstein 2001:389). Talking big tends toward a negative connotation, indicating the speaker believes some event or property to be “excessive.” This style can also be used to mock someone else. Talking small generally has a positive connotation, conveys “subtle[ty]” and “endear[ment],” and is used in “baby-talk.” In some cases, the difference between talking big and talking small appears to be less about register change or pragmatic differences, and instead is more indicative of a productive within-register process that actually is purely semantic. For example, Millstein (n.d.: 28) notes that the borrowed word ishigá ‘cigar’, with sh, eventually formed the basis for the creation of the word isigá ‘cigarette’ (Lit., ‘small cigar’), with sh becoming s indicating talking small.

45.2.2 Sentence-words Chinookan languages are highly synthetic, meaning that they build words by richly combining meaning-bearing pieces together. Each piece typically has a single meaning, though in some cases one unit bears multiple meanings. Word pieces can have multiple forms that are shaped by things such as surrounding sounds and—for verbal person markers, specifically—their position and grammatical function. Chinookan languages have extensive person marking on verbs and nouns, including three persons, dual-plural and inclusive-exclusive distinctions (i.  e., two senses of “we”: me-and-you and me-andthem-but-not-you), and grammatical gender.

10 We present the Kiksht language throughout this chapter using the modern orthography, but here include the phonetic rendering so that our presentation of these examples matches the original source.

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At the most fundamental level, Kiksht grammar distinguishes between sentence-words and non-sentence-words (/particles).11 Sentence-words contain several meaning-bearing pieces and are built from attaching prefixes and suffixes to roots/ stems. Categorically, sentence-words include verbs and nouns. The rationale for the label “sentence-words” is that, when fully inflected, such words by themselves can serve as well-formed sentences. Non-sentence-words contain either one or few meaning-bearing pieces, and generally do not stand on their own to form sentences. This group includes negative particles, question words, adverbs, and ideophones (“marked words that depict sensory imagery” (Dingemanse 2019:16), such as Kiksht (t)łq’up ‘cut’, chxep ‘snuff’), among others. Following Kiparsky (2021), we recognize the term “word” usually “refers to a pre­ theoretically accepted category,” while terms like “root” and “stem” can come with a lot of theoretical baggage in linguistics. Before getting into the details of verbs and nouns, then, a quick note on our use of the terms “root” and “stem” in this chapter is in order. We use “root” for the core component of a word that cannot be broken down or analyzed further. Kiksht verb and noun roots are always bound, meaning that they never stand alone as a word in their bare form. We use “stem” to refer to something that an affix attaches to, which can be a root but can also include a root plus additional meaning-bearing pieces.

45.2.2.1 Verbs Chinookan verbs are rich in meaning-bearing pieces, each conveying important information about who, what, when, where, and how an event happens. In Chinookan languages, nouns and pronouns that are separate from the verb are not required in a sentence, which is why a verb can serve as a sentence by itself (Moore 1988:455). Kiksht verbs combine up to 12 different components, according to the template below.12 (2)  

Kiksht verb template (modified from Silverstein 1976, 1995; Moore 1988) Tense-Person-Person-Person-Relational-dir-√Verb-caus/pass-cont/dist-√MotionAspect/Voice-Deixis

11 Our distinction here has precedent in Dyk (1933), who speaks of “verb sentences,” “noun sentences,” and “particles.” 12 In our presentation of the Kiksht verb template we use “Relational” instead of “postposition” for prefixes that express meaning about things like spatial relationships between entities, things that are commonly expressed in English as prepositions. While Kiksht has postpositions, a reviewer notes that the term “postposition” may be confusing for prefixal elements inside a verb complex. This reviewer also points out that “Deixis” is a bit of a vague label; we agree, but at present are unaware of an appropriate substitute.



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The core of every Kiksht verb is the verb root, which almost always takes a tense prefix and obligatorily has one to three person prefixes.13 These person prefixes sometimes take different forms (e.  g., “ergative” and “absolutive,” explained below), and the number of prefixes plus their location/order provides information about their function. For example, intransitive verbs have only one person marker, and this form is generally the absolutive one. Transitive verbs have two person markers, with the leftmost being in the ergative form and functioning as subject and the rightmost being in the absolutive form and functioning as the object. Ditransitive verbs have three person prefixes: the leftmost is the subject (ergative form), followed by the object (absolutive form), followed by the indirect object (absolutive form). Verb roots can be flanked on either side with additional relational and directional prefixes, along with suffixes that indicate valency-changing operations (e.  g., causative, antipassive, and various passive types [see Silverstein 2001:392, ex.  9]), continuative or distributive, aspect/voice, and deixis. Verb stems can also contain multiple roots by combining a lexical verb with a motion root (see Dyk 1933:73–78). The following Kiksht verbal sentence-words illustrate several components just discussed. (3)                

Kiksht (Silverstein 1995:265) a. Imshanlut.   i-m-sh-an-l-u-t   imm.pst-2sg-3du.abs-1sg-to-dir-give   ‘You just gave those two to me.’ b. Ishamlut.   i-Ø-sh-am-l-u-t   imm.pst-1sg-3du.abs-2sg- to- dir-give   ‘I just gave those two to you.’

The root in these sentence-words is t ‘give’. This is preceded by the directional prefix u- (indicating away from the speaker) and the relational prefix l- (roughly meaning ‘to’). These form the verbal stem to which person markers attach. Recall from (2) that Kiksht verbs take up to three person prefixes, and in (3a) all of these slots are filled: m- indicates that the subject is ‘you’, sh- indicates that the direct object is ‘they two’, and an- indicates that the indirect object is ‘me’. The verbal sentence-word in (3b) switches the order of the subject and the indirect object (from ‘You … me’ in (3a) to ‘I … you’ in (3b)), and this means that the order of the person prefixes in the verb stem also switches since a prefix’s position indicates grammatical function. Objects appear closest to the verb root, and if 13 The “obligatory” nature of verb roots and (minimally) one person marker is uncontroversial. Ultimately, though, what counts as “obligatory” for Kiksht verbs depends partly on one’s analysis. In saying that tense marking “almost always” occurs, we allow for the exception of imperatives, which have person marking but no tense marking. Dyk (1933:46) claims that “[e]very verb construction […] must contain” a directional, and posits the presence of a zero-marked directional in certain cases to support this claim.

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both direct and indirect object markers are present, the indirect object follows the direct object. Subjects appear farthest from the root, immediately following the tense prefix at the left edge. In (3b), the first-person subject marker is null because of a unique grammatical constraint in Kiksht producing “obligatory non-expression of the first person singular ‘Agent’ when the ‘Dative’ is second person” (Silverstein 1995: 265).14 Moreover, the m- ~ am- alternation in the form of the second person singular is due to vowel epenthesis: m- becomes am- following a consonant, as in (3b). Differing forms of person markers also serve as an indicator of grammatical role in a sentence. The examples in (4) show two variants of the third-person singular feminine verbal person marker, k- (4a) and a- (4b-c). (4)

a.

       

      b.

       

      c.

     

     

Kiksht (Moore 2012: 198) Gaktiglupchxalal. ga-k-t-i-gl-u-pchx̲ a-lal rem.pst-3sg.f.erg-3pl-3sg.m.abs-for-dir-sew-cont ‘She was sewing them for him.’ Kiksht (Millstein, n.d.: 153) Chanx̲ kw’alalgwamit. Ø-ch-a-n-x̲ -kw’alal-gwa-mit prs-3sg.m.erg-3sg.f.abs-1sg- refl-forget-mot-caus ‘He is making me forget her.’ Kiksht (Dyk 1933: 27) Nalakdáya. nal-a-k-dá-ya imm.pst-3sg.f.abs-over-run-asp ‘She (just) ran.’

Unlike instances where meaning-bearing pieces change form due to surrounding sounds (e.  g., m- ~ am- in (3)), here the difference in form relates to grammatical function. In (4a), k- is the subject of the transitive verb pchx̲ a ‘sew’. Alternatively, a- in (4b) indicates that the object of the transitive verb is third singular feminine. The prefix a- appears for intransitive subjects, too, as (4c) illustrates. The pattern seen in the marking of third singular feminine person on verbs in (4) is reflective of a broader pattern in Kiksht (and Chinookan, generally). Across many third-person markers, the form of transitive object prefixes is like that of intransitive subject ones, while transitive subject prefixes are marked differently. This is referred to as ergative-absolutive alignment (Silverstein 1976). Ergative languages are rarely (if ever) consistently ergative (Moravcsik 1978), and Kiksht is no exception. Languages with ergative alignment typically exhibit other align-

14 This is related to a phenomenon called the Person Case Constraint (PCC). See Rezac (2011) for a discussion and analysis of PCC effects in Kiksht.



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ment types in certain contexts,15 and this is known as split-ergativity. To see how this operates in Kiksht, consider the forms of the first-person singular prefix across the three examples in (5). (5)                            

a.         b.         c.        

Kiksht (Dyk 1933: 48) Anyútka. a-n-y-ú-tk-a fut-1sg-3sg.m.abs-dir-bury-fut ‘I’ll bury him (in the near future).’ Kiksht (Dyk 1933: 48) Achnútka. a-ch-n-ú-tk-a fut-3sg.m.erg-1sg-dir-bury-fut ‘He’ll bury me (in the near future).’ Kiksht (Dyk 1933: 54) Nutxwílal. Ø-n-u-txwí-lal prs-1sg-dir-stand-cont ‘I am standing.’

The verb types and relevant grammatical roles highlighted in (5a-c) correspond to the same ones seen above in (4a-c). Unlike the pattern in (4), where transitive subject marking (4a) differs from transitive object and intransitive subject marking (4b), the first-person singular marker in (5a-c) is invariably n-. This form surfaces regardless of whether the prefix serves as a transitive subject (5a), transitive object (5b), or intransitive subject (5c) marker. In contrast to ergative alignment for third-person, then, the form of first-person verbal person marking does not change based on grammatical role. This alignment type is known as neutral alignment. Kiksht ergative alignment is thus seen only in the marking of some third person entities, whereas neutral alignment emerges for both first and second persons. The relevant grammatical feature triggering the ergative split in the Kiksht examples above is person—local (first and second persons) vs. non-local (third person).16 Another notable property of Kiksht verbs is the way that the language makes finegrained tense distinctions (Sapir 1907, Dyk 1933, Silverstein 1974, Hymes 1975). There are six basic tenses in Kiksht, seen in Table 2 (parenthetic consonants occur before vowels).

15 Examples of this include splits based on tense or aspect, verb type (e.  g., unaccusative vs. unergative), clause type (e.  g., main vs. embedded), or—as in Kiksht—person. 16 For additional details on how split ergativity works in Kiksht (as “complex, global, and multi-way” (Moore 1988: 455)), see Silverstein (1976).

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Tab. 2: Kiksht tense prefixes Tense prefix

Tense type

Time interval

a(l)Øi(g)na(l)ni(g)ga(l)-

Future Present Immediate past Recent past Remote past Mythic past

after now now before now, same day before now, same week before now, same year/season before now, more than one year/season ago

Besides future and present, Kiksht has a four-way distinction for past, with relative time intervals ranging from same day (immediate past) to over a year ago (mythic past). Typologically, many languages possess elaborate tense systems. What makes Kiksht’s system remarkable is that even further granularity can be achieved by combining tense prefixes with the directional prefixes u- and t- (Table 3). Tab. 3: Kiksht tense prefixes combined with directional prefixes Tense prefix

Tense type

Directional prefix

Time interval

a(l)-

Future

ut-

after now, immediate future after now, distant future

Ø-

Present

ut-

actual present or closer to present further from present, very immediate past

i(g)-

Immediate past

ut-

before now, same day, further from present before now, same day, closer to present

na(l)-

Recent past

— 

before now, same week

ni(g)-

Remote past

u-

before now, same year/season, further from present within the year/season before now, same year/season, closer to present within the year/season

tga(l)-

Mythic past

ut-

before now, more than one year/season ago, further from present within this interval before now, more than one year/season ago, closer to present within this interval

Directional prefixes can interact with verb roots in Kiksht to signify action toward or away from the speaker (cf. Sapir 1907:539), but here the interaction is between directionals and tense prefixes (Hymes 1975). An event is seen taking place near(er) to or far(ther) from the present. The tense prefix establishes a particular time interval, and the direc-



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tional prefix signals a time more toward its upper or lower bounds. The way the notions “nearer to the present” and “further from the present” map on to the forms u- and t- depends on whether the tense is past or non-past. For the present and future tenses, u- signals closer to and t- farther from the present. The opposite obtains for the past prefixes, though. For example, ni(g)- encodes remote past, which in Kiksht corresponds to an interval ranging from a week to about a year ago. The combination ni(g)-…u- means that the time is toward the upper bound of the interval (further from the present, more toward a year ago) and ni(g)-…t- indicates that the time is more toward the lower bound (closer to the present, such as last week). Only the prefix nal- is incompatible with directionals in terms of producing more fine-grained tense distinctions. Kiksht tense appears to be related historically to neighboring Ichishkíin, which many Kiksht speakers knew. Lower Chinook, however, has more of an aspect-based system, a feature shared with neighboring Salishan languages that were known to many downriver Chinookans. Finally, Kathlamet has an intermediate system of three tenses (present, future, immediate past) with aspectual associations (Silverstein 1974).

45.2.2.2 Nouns Chinookan nouns also contain many meaning-bearing pieces and can serve as finite sentences. All Kiksht common nouns and independent pronouns take prefixes obligatorily. The partial paradigms in (6) and (7) show the formal relatedness of nominal and pronominal prefixes. Dyk (1933) calls these “appositive” prefixes because one of their functions is to cross-reference the syntactic roles of participants.17 (6)        

Nominal appositive prefixes in Kiksht a. Ent’ux̱wial. en-t’ux̱wial ‘I am a brave fellow.’ b. Emgwaɬilx. em-gwaɬilx ‘You are a person.’ c. Akaimamt. a-kaimamt ‘She is a Sahaptin.’ d. Ikaimamt. i-kaimamt ‘He is a Sahaptin.’

(7)        

Pronominal appositive prefixes in Kiksht a. naika n-ai-ka ‘I’ b. maika m-ai-ka ‘you’ c. axka a-x-ka ‘she’ d. yaxka y-a-x-ka ‘he’

Appositive prefixes are essentially identical to the verbal person markers for transitive objects and intransitive subjects (i.  e., absolutives). This suggests at some level that

17 Dyk (1933:117) provides a full list of (pro)nominal appositive prefixes, showing minor morphophonological differences across the sets due to some of the nominal prefixes being composed of [i]C(C) rather than C(C).

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Kiksht nouns and pronouns function like intransitive predicates. The independent pronouns in (7) show additional complexity in terms of meaning-bearing pieces. Each is built from a core pronominal root, ai for local prounouns and ax for non-local ones, plus an emphatic suffix, -ka. Common noun prefixes mark noun class/grammatical gender and number. G̱ámwa ‘camas’—a plant indigenous to the Pacific Northwest—falls in the feminine noun class, for exmaple. When singular, it obligatorily takes the prefix a- (8a).18 (8)                        

Singular, plural, and collective forms of gámwa ‘camas’ in Kiksht a. ag̱ámwa   a-g̱ámwa   f-camas   ‘camas’ b. itg̱ámwa   it-g̱ámwa   pl-camas   ‘camases’ c. iɬg̱ámwa   iɬ-g̱ámwa   coll-camas   ‘yellow wampum beads’

For many nouns with human referents (and some for animate entities), gender prefixes index biological sex (cf. aq’iuqt ‘old woman’ vs. iq’iuqt ‘old man’); otherwise, as with ag̱ámwa ‘camas’, the class a given noun falls in is essentially arbitrary (Dyk 1933, Hymes 1961, Silverstien 1977, Fowler & French 1982), as is common crosslinguistically (cf. aunaíax ‘huckleberry (one species)’ vs. igunat ‘Chinook salmon (singular)’).19 As noted by Silverstein (1977) and Fowler and French (1982), it- (8b) is more of a true plural marker while iɬ- (8c) frequently has a “collective” meaning, or adds the meaning ‘some’.20,21 Consistent with dual as a relevant feature in the person-marking and pronoun system, Kiksht has a dual nominal prefix, ish- (e.  g., ishchínun ‘they two eagles’).

18 The nominal prefixes a- and i- are generally wa- and wi- before monosyllabic roots/stems. However, there are also cases with wa-/wi- before polysyllabic stems. 19 Additional semantic differences can be triggered by a- ~ i- alternations (e.  g., combining a- + kámunaq yields ‘log’, whereas combining i- + kámunaq yields ‘tree, stick’ (Dyk 1933:55)). Nouns with this type of alternation usually show semantic differences involving size, or an extension of such. Dyk (1933) roots this property in a diminutive (a-, iɬ-, is-) vs. augmentative distinction. 20 Dyk (1933:96–97) presents examples to further show that a- ~ iɬ- can encode unknown vs. known to speaker, respectively, in addition to the meaning ‘a few, some’. 21 Kiksht also has two plural suffixes: the “distributive/individuated plural” -max̲ and the “animate plural” -ksh. Both of these can co-occur with it- (e.  g., itc’ə́mənamax̲ ‘staging-poles’ (Sapir 1909:184)). See Dyk (1933:110–11) and Fowler & French (1982) for examples and discussion.



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The series of noun class/gender and number markers—a-, i-, it-, iɬ-, ish- —are homophonous with the appositive prefixes for third singular feminine, third singular masculine, third neuter, third plural, and third dual, respectively (hence, Fowler & French 1982: 6 refer to the nominal prefixes as “appositive/number-gender prefixes”). Recall, too, from above that the appositive series bears a strong formal affinity (what Dyk 1933:88 calls “striking analogy in form”) to the absolutive series of verbal person markers (Moore 2000:173).22 Dyk (1933:89), however, sees the appositives as “classifying elements” that are no longer pronominal when attaching to nouns because of semantic “bleaching.” Possession in Kiksht is indicated by way of a prefix that appears between the classifying prefix and the noun root/stem. (9)                                

Possessed nouns in Kiksht (Millstein 1996:9, 11) a. akxan   a-k-xan   f-1sg.gen-child   ‘my daughter’ b. agaxan   a-ga-xan   f-3sg.f.gen-child   ‘her daughter’ c. ayaxan   a-ya-xan   f-3sg.m.gen-child   ‘his daughter’ d. ichaxan   i-cha-xan   m-3sg.f.gen-child   ‘her son’

(10)        

Kiksht (Millstein 1996:7) itkq’iyuqdiksh it-k-q’iyuqd-iksh pl-1sg.gen-old.person-an.pl ‘my ancestors’ (beyond great-grandparents)

The xan ‘child’ (/‘one’s offspring’) is interpreted as axan ‘daughter’ (cf. (9a-c)) with the feminine prefix and ixan ‘son’ (cf. (9d)) with the masculine one. The second element in the above stems changes the possessor, which in the case of a kinship term like xan,

22 This is part of what Silverstein (1977:144) proposes as “the formal parallelism of morphological order-classes of the syntactic noun and verb.”

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indicates a different relationship. Example (10) further shows that the same ordering obtains with the plural prefix. Possessor prefixes combine with all appositive prefixes. Adding a second personmarking prefix to a possessive noun produces a predicate possessive,23 as seen in (11). (11)        

Kiksht (Millstein 1996: 4) Ichnaxan. i-ch-na-xan m-3sg.m.gen-1sg-child ‘I’m his son.’

Millstein notes that this construction is “rarely used,” but, at the same time, is “distinctively Wasco” (Millstein 1996: 4). While inflected verbs and nouns can stand alone as sentence-words, inflected nouns can also be parts of larger sentences, functioning, for example, as subjects and objects. (12)

a.

           

          b.

       

      c.

     

     

Kiksht (Moore 2000:174) Ishtamx̲ gachɬashluɬada alaɬak iɬgalxlúɬa ishgagílak. i-shtamx̲ ga-ch-ɬ-ash-l-u-ɬada m-chief myt.pst-3sg.m.erg-3n.abs-3du.abs-to-dir-throw a-la-ɬak iɬ-ga-lxlúɬat ish-gagílak f-3sg.m.gen-aunt coll-3sg.f.gen-pestles du-women ‘The chief threw his aunt’s pestles to the two women.’ Kiksht (Dyk 1933:88) Ichiuɬada ikuma. i-ch-i-u-łada i-kuma imm.pst-3sg.m.erg-3sg.m.abs-dir-drag m-cottonwood ‘He dragged the cottonwood tree.’ Lower Chinook (Boas 1894:260)24 Ulu aktax telxam. a-k-t-a-x t-lxam u-lu f-hunger aor-3sg.f.erg-3pl.abs-dir-do pl-people ‘The people are hungry.’ (Lit., ‘Hunger acts on the people.’)

In (12a), each of the person marking prefixes on the verb corresponds to an overt noun: ch- with the subject ishtamx̲ ‘chief’, ɬ- with the direct object alałak iɬgalxlúɬat ‘his aunt’s two pestles’, and ash- with the indirect object ishgagílak ‘the two women’. Two entities are coindexed on the verb in (12b), but only one is overt: i- corresponds to the direct object ikuma ‘cottonwood tree’ while ch- encodes the subject. Note that grammatical

23 See Mithun (1998) for examples of attribute and predicate possession in Kathalamet. 24 This analysis, included at Zenk’s request, corrects a form that is published in Zenk and Johnson (2013:275). Note that the e in telxam is there to carry the stress.



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relations are only expressed on the verbal prefixes. The expression of grammatical gender on nouns relates only to properties of those nouns, thus indicating a system of gender-based concord.

45.2.3 Non-sentence-words (particles) Chinookan languages also make rich use of particles. These cannot take person prefixes, and commonly contain only one meaning-bearing piece. In this section, we highlight sentence-level properties of select particles, focusing on negation and question formation.

45.2.3.1 Negation Negation in Chinookan languages is expressed through an independent particle that precedes the negated constituent. The following Kiksht examples illustrate with two negative particles, k’aya (13a, c-f) and naqi (13a-b).25 (13)

a.

       

      b.

       

      c.

     

     

Kiksht (Dyk 1933: 136, translation original) K’aya, naqi amdux̲ a qidau. k’aya naqi a-m-d-u-x̲ -a qidau no not fut-2sg-3pl.abs-dir-do-fut thus ‘No, not thus you will do, make them.’ Kiksht (Culture and Heritage Department, Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs [CHD] 2011:17) Naqi qidau ix̲ a. naqi qidau i-x̲ -a not that 3sg.m.abs-do-fut ‘Don’t do that.’ Kiksht (CHD n.d.) Adí k’aya anuya. adi k’aya a-n-u-y-a oh no fut-1sg-dir-go-fut ‘Oh! I can’t go.’

25 An alternate of naqi—nashqi—has been recorded for Kiksht. Note that, for Lower Chinook, Boas (1893:57) lists nikct (with nekct and näkct as variants) for the negative particle. Boas (1901) records examples of k¡āya and nîct—equivalents in Kathlamet, and also shows their use together (1901:17, line 8), similar to (13a).

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      e.

       

      f.

     

     

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Kiksht (CHD 2011:17) K’aya naika walu gnux̲ t. k’aya naika wa-lu Ø-g-n-u-x̲ -t no 1sg f-hunger prs-3sg.f.erg-1sg-dir-do-ipfv ‘I’m not hungry.’ Kiksht (CHD 2011: 22) K’aya dan itka. k’aya dan it-ka no what pl-to.fly ‘There’s no cloud.’ Kiksht (CHD 2011: 20) Saqw ag̱a, k’aya dan. saqw ag̱a k’aya dan all then no what ‘It’s all gone.’

Both k’aya and naqi can negate a sentence, and both appear before various types of words/phrases, such as verbs (13a, c), (pro)nominal expressions (13b, d), and content question words (13e-f).26

45.2.3.2 Question words Chinookan polar questions—questions that expect a “yes” or “no” answer—are formed by adding a question particle. In Kiksht, this particle is chi, which commonly appears clause-medially (14a-b).27 (14)

a.

     

     

Kiksht (CHD 2011: 18) Ag̱a chi emx̲ uchkch idmikshen? ag̱a chi e-m-x̲ -u-chkch then q  imm.pst-2sg-refl-dir-wash ‘Did you wash your hands?’

id-mi-kshen pl-2sg.gen-hand

26 K’aya and naqi appear in both negative indefinite pronouns and negative existential free relative clauses (Duncan 2022). While k’aya and naqi have overlapping functions, we do not mean to convey that they are necessarily interchangeable. The precise difference between them remains a point of investigation. 27 The same as the polar question particle in Kathlamet, e.  g., Imē’qelkel tci itcî’naqan? ‘Did you see my game?’ (Boas 1901:13; note that Boas’ tci is the equivalent of Kiksht chi).



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b.

       

      c.

     

     

Kiksht (CHD 2011:12) Maika chi k’ax̲ sh ɬgmux̲ t iɬchqwá? maika chi k’ax̲ sh Ø-ɬg-m-u-x̲ -t 2sg q  want prs-3sg.n.erg-2sg- dir-do-ipfv ‘Do you want water?’ Kiksht (CHD 2011:17) Walu gmux̲ t chi? wa-lu Ø-g-m-u-x̲ -t chi f-hunger prs-3sg.f.erg-2sg-dir-do-ipfv q  ‘Are you hungry?’

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iɬ-chqwá coll-water

Similar to languages like Yurok (Robins 1958) and Ojibwe (Fairbanks 2006:226), chi operates like a second position particle. This means that chi always follows the first phrasal unit (not necessarily the first word). Example (14c) helps to illustrate. While chi is at the end of (14c), its position remains invariable. This is because chi follows the first phrasal unit, walu gmux̲ t ‘you are hungry’. Content questions—ones that ask “who/what/how/where,” etc.—in Chinookan languages are formed by placing an interrogative expression clause-initially. The Kiksht examples below illustrate.28 (15)

a.

       

      b.

       

      c.

     

     

Kiksht (CHD 2011:13) Shan ɬaxdau? shan ɬ-axdau who 3sg.n-that ‘Who is that?’ Kiksht (CHD n.d.) Dan imx̱ilax̱? dan Ø-i-m-x̱ilax̱ what prs-3sg.m.abs-2sg-eat ‘What are you eating?’ Kiksht (CHD 2011:7) Qengi iyalgwilit? qengi i-ya-lgwilit how m-3sg.m.gen-appearance ‘What color is it?’ (Lit., ‘How is it’s appearance?’)

28 Boas (1901) contains many examples of content questions for Kathlament. Like Kiksht, Kathlamet content question words all appear clause-initially, and there is considerable overlap in the forms of these words in the two languages.

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Kiksht (CHD 2011:8) Qadamt ag̱a amuya? qadamt ag̱a a-m-u-y-a where then fut-2sg-dir-go-fut ‘Where are you going?’

Dyk (1933:122–123) claims that shan ‘who’ is used “with singular and dual forms only,” providing qáwaich as the plural form. However, CHD (n.d.) notes that shan can indeed be used for plural, as in Shan daudaich ‘Who are thesepl?’. In addition to the forms above, the series of interrogative expressions in Kiksht is expanded by adding postpositional suffixes (e.  g., dan-ba(ma) ‘for what’ (= ‘why’), qadamt-yamt ‘from where’, qax̱ba-yamt ‘from where’, qax̱ba-bama ‘from where’). According to CHD, qadamt ‘where’ indicates “destination,” whereas qax̱ba ‘where’ indicates “static location” (see Duncan 2022 for a fuller list of content question words/phrases).

45.3 Chinookan and Chinuk Wawa While Kiksht is the only member of the Chinookan family currently in use, Chinuk Wawa has strong influence from Chinookan languages. In this section, we provide a brief historical note on Chinuk Wawa to highlight ways this pidgin-creole preserves aspects of Chinookan languages into the present. The pioneer linguist Horatio Hale made the first professional linguistic record of Chinookan during an 1841 visit to the Hudson Bay Company’s regional center of operations at Fort Vancouver (modern Vancouver, Washington), some 80 miles down the Columbia River from The Dalles (Hale 1846:562–564, 570–629). By the time Hale visited, the large Chinookan populations Lewis and Clark encountered just 35 years earlier on the west side of the Cascade Range had been greatly reduced, primarily from introduced diseases (Boyd 1990). The “prevailing idiom” at Fort Vancouver in 1841, noted Hale, was neither Chinookan nor the languages that fur companies brought with them (primarily English and Canadian French), but a hybrid contact vernacular he dubbed “the ‘Jargon’, or trade-language of Oregon,” and for which he provides the first systematic description (Hale 1846:635–650). The lexicon of Hale’s newly described language was of mostly Chinookan provenance, with a small but semantically central contribution from Nuuchahnulth (Nootkan), plus additions from local Salishan, English, and French, and a scattering of other (mostly local) languages (Grant 1996, Lang 2008, Zenk, Johnson, Braun Hamilton 2010, Zenk & Johnson 2013). By 1841, downriver Chinookans were using primarily this hybrid—Chinuk Wawa—to communicate with foreigners, including speakers of other indigenous languages. This shift away from Chinookan was well underway by the mid-nineteenth century on Willapa Bay, Washington, the home of many lower-river Chinookan survivors, the languages of choice here being Lower Chehalis (a Coast Salish



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language) and Chinuk Wawa (Swan 1972:306–307). While Chinookan itself faded on the lower river, its traces are clearly evident in the large Chinookan contribution to lower Columbia Chinuk Wawa. Of Chinookan-contributed words in lower Columbia Chinuk Wawa, well over half are from whole Chinookan word-forms. Where Chinookan sourcewords happen not to be complete, it is the interaction of stress with the prefix complex that determines the resulting Chinuk Wawa form—revealing a grasp of the most productive aspect of Chinookan morphology, its system of verbal and nominal prefixation (Zenk & Johnson 2005). The ethnicities of individuals with whom Chinookans used Chinuk Wawa—foreign versus indigenous—is also relevant to the language’s linguistic description. Hale (1846:640) famously claimed that “as the Jargon is to be spoken by Chinooks, Englishmen, and Frenchmen, so as to be alike easy and intelligible to all, it must admit of no sound which cannot be easily pronounced by all three.” In fact, linguists’ transcriptions of the Chinuk Wawa used throughout the Pacific Northwest by indigenous people disprove this claim: Chinuk Wawa words of local indigenous origin show phonetic features widely shared by Northwest Coast languages, but not by English and French (Thomason 1983). Hale’s claim is best understood in the context of interethnic communication, where each party must be prepared to tolerate the other parties’ distorted pronunciations of familiar words. Hale appears to have focused his attention on the Chinuk Wawa used by foreign fur company employees, a supposition confirmed by comparison with a manuscript draft of his sketch (Hale ca. 1841, Zenk 2015). This draft contains contributions from the American naturalist John Kirk Townsend that point unmistakably to the existence of a more Chinookan-aligned contact vernacular on the lower Columbia; as well as an observation by Hale himself acknowledging that the Chinuk Wawa used by Methodist missionaries contained “many Chinook words which do not properly belong to the trade language.” It is the more Chinookan-aligned form(s) of “the Jargon” that the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde is currently engaged in reviving under its Chinuk Wawa Language Program (Chinuk Wawa Dictionary Project 2012), and that the Chinook Indian Nation is working to revitalize through less formal means (Tony A. Johnson, Chairman Chinook Indian Nation, personal communication 2019). The somewhat different forms assumed by the language farther north, especially in British Columbia, have been described by Robertson (2011), Vrzić (1999), and others.

45.4 Conclusion This chapter presented aspects of the ongoing legacy of the Chinookan family, focusing on two languages actively spoken today. As the only Chinookan language presently not sleeping, the bulk of our discussion was dedicated to Kiksht. Our brief grammatical sketch mostly oriented to well-documented aspects of the language, such as Kiksht’s extensive consonant inventory, sound symbolism, rich inflection of verbs and nouns,

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(split-)ergativity, and extensive temporal contrasts. We also included a short description of negation and interrogatives, which have not received much attention in previous work. We also called attention to Chinookan’s pidgin-creole offspring, Chinuk Wawa, highlighting its historical association with speakers of the downriver (sleeping) Chinookan languages. It is primarily through the continuing vitality of Chinuk Wawa that the linguistic legacy of the downriver Chinookans lives on today. And it is due to the resiliency of the Wasco people and the Wasco Language Program that the Kiksht language— the linguistic legacy of the upper Chinookan languages—is still here now.

References Boas, Franz. 1893. Notes on the Chinook language. American Anthropologist 6(1). 55–64. Boas, Franz. 1894. Chinook texts. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. Boas, Franz. 1901. Kathlamet texts. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 26). Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. Boas, Franz. 1911. Chinook. In Franz Boas (ed.), Handbook of American Indian languages 1, 559–678. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. Boyd, Robert. 1990. Demographic history, 1774–1874. In Wayne Suttles (ed.), Northwest Coast, 135–148. (Handbook of North American Indians 7). Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution. Campbell, Lyle & Anna Belew. 2018. Cataloguing the world’s endangered languages. New York, NY: Routledge. Chinuk Wawa Dictionary Project. 2012. Chinuk Wawa kakwa nsayka ulman-tilixam łaska munk-kəmtəks nsayka [Chinuk Wawa as our elders teach us to speak it]. Grand Ronde, OR: Confederated Tribes of the Grand Ronde Community of Oregon. Culture and Heritage Department, Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs. (n.d.). Wasco Dictionary. Warm Springs, OR: Culture and Heritage Department, Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs. Culture and Heritage Department, Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs. 2011. Kiksht Phrasebook. Warm Springs, OR: Culture and Heritage Department, Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs. Curtis, Edward. 1970 [1911]. The North American Indian, Vol. 8. Norwood, MA: Plimpton. Dingemanse, Mark. 2019. “Ideophone” as a comparative concept. In Kimi Akita & Prashant Pardeshi (eds.), Ideophones, mimetics and expressives, 13–33. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Duncan, Philip T. 2022. Documenting what’s in almost every narrative: Free relative clauses in Kiksht. International Journal of American Lingusitics, 88(3), 271–323. Dyk, Walter. 1933. A grammar of Wishram. New Haven, CT: Yale University dissertation. Dyk, Walter & Dell Hymes. 1956. Stress accent in Wishram Chinook. International Journal of American Linguistics, 22(4). 238–241. Fairbanks, Brendan. 2016. Ojibwe discourse markers. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press. Grant, Anthony. 1996. Chinook Jargon and its distribution in the Pacific Northwest and beyond. In Stephen A. Wurm, Peter Mühlhäusler & Darrell T. Tryon (eds.), Atlas of intercultural communication in the Pacific, Asia, and the Americas, 1185–1208. (Trends in Linguistics Documentation 13). Amsterdam: Mouton de Gruyter. Hale, Horatio. 1846. Ethnography and philology. Philadelphia, PA: C. Sherman. Hale, Horatio. ca. 1841. Manuscript, drafts of Hale (1846). CHS Vault Ms 26/1, Library of the California Historical Society, San Francisco. Haynes, Erin. 2010. Phonetic and phonological acquisition of endangered languages learned by adults: A case study of Numu (Oregon Northern Paiute). Berkeley, CA: University of Californica, Berkeley doctoral dissertation.



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Hargus, Sharon & Virginia Beavert. 2014. Northwest Sahaptin. Journal of the International Phonetic Association 44(3). 319–342. Haspelmath, Martin. 1997. Indefinite pronouns. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Heine, Bernd & Tania Kuteva. 2006. World lexicon of grammaticalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hinton, Leanne. 2001. Sleeping languages: Can they be awakened? In Leanne Hinton & Ken Hale (eds.), The Green Handbook of Language Revitalization, 413–417. San Diego, CA: Academic Press. Hymes, Dell. 1955. The language of the Kathlamet Chinook. South Bend, IN: Indiana University doctoral dissertation. Hymes, Dell. 1984. The earliest Clackamas text. International Journal of American Linguistics 50(4). 358–383. Hymes, Dell. 1985. Secondary significance of gender in a Wishram text. International Journal of American Linguistics 51(4). 463–466. Hymes, Dell. 1992. Consonant symbolism in Kathlamet and Shoalwater Chinook. Paper presented at the 27th International Conference on Salish Languages. Kamloops, British Columbia, 6–8 August. Jacobs, Melville. 1958–1959. Clackamas Chinook texts. Part 1: Folklore and Linguistics Publication 8; Part 2: Folklore and Linguistics Publication 11. Indiana University, Bloomington. Kinkade, M. Dale, William W. Elmendorft, Bruce Rigsby & Haruo Aoki. 1998. Languages. In Deward E. Walter, Jr. (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians: Plateau, 49–72. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. Kiparsky, Paul. 2021.Morphological units: Stems. In Rochelle Lieber (ed.). The Oxford Encyclopedia of Morphology. Oxford University Press. Kono, Nariyo. 2015. Conversational Kiksht. London: Endangered Languages Archive. https://elar.soas.ac.uk/ Collection/MPI194590 (accessed 18 May 2020). Lang, George. 2008. Making Wawa: The founding of Chinook Jargon. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. Leonard, Wesley Y. (2008). When is an “extinct language” not extinct?: Miami, a formerly sleeping language. In Kendall A. King, Natalie Schilling-Estes, Jia Jackie Lou, Lyn Fogle & Barbara Soukup (eds.), Sustaining Linguistic Diversity: Endangered and Minority Languages and Language Varieties, 23–33. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press. Millstein, Henry. n.d. A practical grammar of Wasco. Unpublished Ms. Millstein, Henry. 1996. Terms for relatives in Wasco. Unpublished Ms. Mithun, Marianne. 1998. Implication and assertion in attributive possession. Santa Barbara Papers in Linguistics 8. 123–143. Mithun, Marianne. 1999. The Languages of Native North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Moore, Robert. 1988. Lexicalization vs. lexical loss in Wasco-Wishram language obsolesence. International Journal of American Linguistics 54(4). 453–468. Moore, Robert. 1993. Performance form and the voices of characters in five versions of the Wasco Coyote Cycle. In John A. Lucy (ed.), Reflexive Language: Reported Speech and Metapragmatics, 213–240. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Moore, Robert. 2000. “The people are here now.” The contemporary culture of an ancestral language: Studies in obsolescent Kiksht (Wasco-Wishram dialect of Upper Chinook). Chicago, IL: Univrersity of Chicago doctoral dissertation. Moore, Robert. 2012. ‘Taking up speech’ in an endangered language: Bilingual discourse in a heritage language classroom. University of Pennsylvania Working Papers in Educational Linguistics 27(2). 57–78. Moravscik, Edith A. 1978. On the distribution of ergative and accusative patterns. Lingua 45(3). 233–279. Robertson, David D. 2011. Kamloops Chinúk Wawa, Chinuk pipa, and the vitality of pidgins. Victoria, British Columbia: University of Victoria doctoral dissertation. Robertson, David D. 2011–2023. Chinook Jargon: Linguistic Archaeology of the Pacific Northwest [blog and online archive]. https://chinookjargon.com (accessed 3 Feb 2023).

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Robins, R. H. 1958. The Yurok Language: Grammar, Texts, Lexicon. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Sapir, Edward. 1909. Wishram texts. Leyden: E. J. Brill. Silverstein, Michael. 1972. Chinook Jargon: Language contact and the problem of multi-level generative systems. Language 48. 378–406, 596–625. Silverstein, Michael. 1974. Dialectal developments in Chinookan tense-aspect systems: An areal-historical analysis. International Journal of American Linguistics 40(4). S45, S47, S49-S99. Silverstein, Michael. 1976. Hierarchy of features and ergativity. In R. M. W. Dixon (ed.), Grammatical Categories in Australian Languages, 112–171. Canberra: AIAS. Silverstein, Michael. 1977. Person, number, gender in Chinook: Syntactic rule and morphological analogy. Proceedings of the Berkeley Linguistic Society 3. 143–156. Silverstein, Michael. 1978. Deixis and deducibility in a Wasco-Wishram passive of evidence. Chicago Linguistic Society 9. 238–253. Silverstein, Michael. 1990. Chinookans of the Lower Columbia. In Wayne Suttles (ed.), Northwest Coast, 533–46. (Handbook of North American Indians 7). Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. Silverstein, Michael. 1995. Kiksht “impersonals” as anaphors and the predictiveness of grammatical-categorical universals. In Leela Bilmes, Anita C. Liang & Weera Ostapirat (eds.), Proceedings of the Twenty-First Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society: General Session and Parasession on Historical Issues in Sociolinguistics/Social Issues in Historical Linguistics, 282–286. Linguistic Society of America: eLanguage. Silverstein, Michael. 2001. The limits of awareness. In Alessandro Duranti (ed.), Linguistic Anthropology: A Reader, 382–401. Oxford: Blackwell. Swan, James. 1972 [1857]. The Northwest Coast; or, three years residence in Washington Territory. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press. Switzler, Valerie (Lamxayat). 2011. That is all I have to say: Language shift, attitudes, and revitalization on the Warm Springs Reservation. Lawrence, KS: University of Kansas MA thesis. Switzler, Valerie (Lamxayat) & Erin Flynn Haynes. 2014. Warm Springs languages. In Terrence G. Wiley, Joy Kreeft Peyton, Donna Christian, Sarah Catherine K. Moore & Na Liu (eds.), Handbook of Heritage, Community, and Native American Languages in the United States: Research, policy, and educational practice, 229–237. New York, NY: Routledge. Thomason, Sarah. 1983. Chinook Jargon in areal and historical context. Language 59(4). 820–70. Vrzić, Zvjezdana. 1999. Modeling pidgin/creole genesis: Universals and contact influence in Chinook Jargon syntax. New York, NY: New York University doctoral dissertation. Wilce, James M. 2017. Culture and Communication: An Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Zenk, Henry B. & Kathy Cole. 2019. Reviving Chinook Jargon: the chinuk-wawa language program of the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde, Oregon. In Kristin Denham (ed.), Northwest voices: Language and culture in the Pacific Northwest, 63–80. Corvallis: Oregon State University Press. Zenk, Henry B. & Tony Johnson. 2005. Chinookan word classes and Chinuk Wawa etymologies. University of British Columbia Working Papers in Linguistics 16. 331–355. Zenk, Henry B. & Tony Johnson. 2013. Chinuk Wawa and its roots in Chinookan. In Robert T. Boyd, Kenneth M. Ames & Tony A. Johnson (eds.), Chinookan Peoples of the Lower Columbia, 272–87. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press. Zenk, Henry B., Tony Johnson & Sarah Braun Hamilton. 2010. Chinuk Wawa (Chinook Jargon) etymologies. University of British Columbia Working Papers in Linguistics 27. 270–348. Zenk, Henry B., Yvonne Hajda & Robert Boyd. 2016. Chinookan villages of the Lower Columbia. Oregon Historical Quarterly 117(1). 6–37. Zenk, Henry B. 2015. New light on pidgin Chinookan: With due credit to Horatio Hale’s ‘esteemed friend’ J. K. Townsend. University of British Columbia Working Papers in Linguistics 40. 255–269.

Joana Jansen

46 Sahaptian Abstract: The Sahaptian language family includes sister languages Ichishkíin/Sahaptin and Nimipuutímt/Nez Perce. They are spoken in an area defined by Nch’iwána ‘Columbia River’ and pík’u·nen ‘Snake River’ in the southern plateau region of what is now called the Pacific Northwest of the United States, present-day Oregon, Washington, and Idaho. The two languages are similar in sound and structure, and similar cultural traditions and values are shared among the bands and tribes. Tribal nations support language vitality and use: the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation, the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation, the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs, the Nez Perce Tribe, and the Yakama Nation. This chapter begins by acknowledging language authorities, elders, experts, linguists, students, and teachers who have worked to secure their languages. It includes a brief discussion of the languages, dialects, and the names used for the languages, followed by an overview of the sound system and basic sentence structure. Case marking and transitive patterns, highly intricate features of the languages, are described. The chapter then provides a list of readings and reference materials, and concludes by highlighting some of the current extensive and committed revitalization work.

46.1 Introduction The wide waters of Nch’iwána ‘Columbia River’ and pík’u·nen ‘Snake River’ define a region that encompasses snow-covered mountains and sheer cliffs falling to deep river valleys, as well as dry plateau areas with rolling hills and long views of the horizon. This, within the southern plateau region of the Pacific Northwest of the United States, is the home of the Ichishkíin/ Sahaptin and Nimipuutímt/Nez Perce languages, in present-day Oregon, Washington, and Idaho. Ichishkíin/Sahaptin and Nimipuutímt/Nez Perce comprise the Sahaptian family. Kw’aɬanúushamatash, qe’ciyéw’yew’ to all those who have made it possible for this chapter to be written and the languages to be spoken today: the átway experts who shared their knowledge so it would be available into the future, the Elders who through their dedication bring so many gifts, the teachers, learners and scholars, those who use their languages every day in their homes, with their families, in community with one another. I acknowledge the language authorities, elders, experts and teachers who have welcomed and supported me. The deep gratitude and respect I hold for them exceeds my ability to express it. They have shared their languages and lives. The Yakama language is the one I have studied most. Tux̱ámshish, Dr. Virginia Beavert, has worked with every linguist who has studied her language and has taught hundreds of language students herself, and hundreds more through the teachers she has taught. I am honored to be https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-046

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one of her students. Kussumwhy, Levina Wilkins, is a teacher of language and culture, served as the Manager of the Yakama Language Program, and continues to teach and inspire. At the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs, I worked closely with Átwai Arlita Rhoan and Átwai Suzie Slockish, and with Elder consultants Átwai Orthelia Patt, Margaret Suppah, Viola Govenor, Willard Tewee and later Anita Davis as well. Elder teachers have attended and taught at the Northwest Indian’s Language Institute (NILI) Summer Institute during the time I have been there, and contributed to classes on Sahaptin language and linguistics, including those named above as well as Anna Clements from CTWS and Fred Hill Sr. and Mildred Quaempts from CTUIR. Many linguist’s efforts have also supported this work. Specific mention at this time goes to cá?yaw Haruo Aoki, átway Bruce Rigsby and átway Noel Rude. The work they did, the way they did it, the relationships they built are guides to those of us who follow. An inspiring and humbling number of language authorities are named in the academic works that are sources for this chapter. Although the language family is small, so many have contributed. The list of those who have worked over the years to maintain their languages is incomplete, both due to my omissions and mistakes and because many were never acknowledged in academic sources as they spoke their languages and taught their children. These language authorities whose work this is are: Margaret Allman, Pricilla Alvina Craig, Frank Andrews, Tom Andrews, Kathryn Arquette, David Arthus, Charles William Axtell, Horace Axtell, Alice Barnhart, Cecilia Bearchum, Henry Beavert, Virginia Beavert, Louise Beavert Lloyd, Shirley Bisbee, Mabel Blackeagle, Margaret Buck, Sally Buck, Clarence Burke, Joan Burnside, Cecil Carter, Mary A. Carter, Anna Clements, Louis Cloud, Amelia Colwash, Lewy Cosima, Fermore Craig, Agnes Davis, Anita Davis, Florene Davis, Mary Dick John, Josephine Dickson, Andrew Dumont, Eugene Ellenwood, Joyce Eyle, Mrs. Mary Eyley, Sam N. Eyley Jr., Roberta Ezekiel, Gordon Fisher, Alice Florendo, Josephine George, Kathleen Gordon, Blanche Gould, Viola Govenor, Verbena Greene, Alta Guzman, Nancy Halfmoon, Richard Halfmoon, Darcus Harrison, Josephine Hayes, Sadie Heemsah, Evie Higheagle, Fred Hill Sr., Lillian Hoptowit, Joe Hunt, Ruth Jackson, Mary Jim Chapman, Donald Joe, Susie Joe, Eugene John, Cy Johnly, Elizabeth Jones, Jessie Jones Jr., Sandra Kessler, Mary Kiona, Charles Kipp, Sarah Lawyer, Anita Lewis, Emily Littlefish, Betty Lou Lucio, Babtist Lumley, Agnes Billy Mark, Jim McCormack, Margaret McCoy Lamere, Peter McGuff, Charles McKay, Beatrice Miles, David Miles, Adeline Miller, Antone Minthorn, Celestine Minthorn, Wade Minthorn, William Minthorn, Bernice Mitchell, Matilda Mitchell, John F. Moffett, Allen Moody, Lottie Moody, Susie Moore, Thomas Morning Owl, Viola Morris, Art Motanic, Dan Motanic, Esther Motanic, George Nanamkin, Jess Nowland, Kenneth Oatman, Frances Paisano, Jacob Parsons, Allan Patawa, Ada Patrick, Orthelia Patt, Henry W. Penney, Archie Phinney, Mary Phinney, Alfred Pinkham, Josiah Pinkham, Elsie Pistolhead, Minnie Placid, Walter Pond, Katherine Powaukee, Mildred Quaempts, Samson Quaempts, Sara Quaempts, Lucille Raboin, Josephine Ramsey, Rena Katherine Ramsey, Arlita Rhoan, Sylvia Sahme, Alex Saluskin, Ellen Saluskin, Carrie Sampson, Bessie Scott, Mrs. Dan Secena, Delsie Albert Selam, James Selam, Lonnie Selam, Otis Shiloh, Minnie

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Showaway, Nettie Showaway, Al Slickpoo, Suzie Slockish, Ambrose Smartlowit, Gilbert Smartlowit, Vera Sonneck, Ada Sooksooit, Mary Jane Souther, J.J. Spencer, Inez Spino Reeves, Vera Spokane Jones, Almeta Stephens, Sam Sturgis, Loda Sublett, Hazel Suppah, Margaret Suppah, Bobby Tamalwash, Willard Teewee, Rosa Thompson Gordon Waters, Joseph Thomson, Edith Types, Donald Umtuch, Hazel Umtuch, Lester Umtuch, Sylvia Wallulatum, Rachell Wapsheli, Hazel (Elizabeth) Watlament, Joan Watlamet, Irving Watters, Harry Wheeler, Ida Wheeler, Silas Whitman, Levina Wilkins, Nakia Williamson, Angus Wilson, Elizabeth Wilson, Eugene Wilson, Linton Winishut, Viola Wocatsie, Virginia Wyena, Rose Lucy Yettona John, Jim Yoke, and Gary Young. Finally, my deep thanks goes to colleagues who read and commented on this chapter, your words improved the work. The thoughtful comments and feedback of anonymous reviewers and the volume editors are greatly appreciated. Errors are my own. This chapter begins with a brief discussion of the languages, dialects, and the names used for the languages. It includes an overview of the sound system and basic sentences. Following that are discussions of case marking and transitive patterns, highly intricate features of the languages. A list of readings and references on various topics points the reader to additional information. The chapter then provides a few examples of the extensive and committed revitalization work that is underway. Sahaptian is classified as a member of the Plateau branch of Penutian, and is a small family, comprised of sister languages Sahaptin and Nez Perce. They are similar in sound and structure: there are many words that are shared or very similar, and the sound systems for the most part overlap. Similar cultural traditions and values are shared among Sahaptian-speaking bands and tribes. Understanding other dialects and languages was a cultural norm when they were more vibrantly spoken and knowing and learning other dialects and languages continues to be valued by learners now. Although many Elders knew and spoke both Sahaptin and Nez Perce, one language is not fully understandable to a speaker of the other unless they learned it or grew up with both languages, in other words, the languages are not mutually intelligible. The languages are spoken and taught at four Tribal nations: the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation (CT), the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation (CTUIR), the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs (CTWS), the Nez Perce Tribe (NPT), and the Yakama Nation (YN). Some Sahaptin-speaking bands did not enter into a treaty relationship with the U.S. government and the languages are taught and spoken beyond current Tribal borders. Sahaptin speakers of around 15 dialects live along Nch’iwána, the Columbia River and its tributaries. The dialects are mutually understandable, with slight differences in sounds, grammar, words and spelling systems. Rigsby (1965) describes three groups: Northeast (NE) dialects, spoken along the Columbia River from Priest Rapids to the lower Yakima and Snake Rivers; Northwest (NW), spoken mainly in the Yakima River drainage and including the Yakama dialect; and Columbia River (CR), spoken along the Columbia east of what is now The Dalles, Oregon, and along the Deschutes, John Day, and Umatilla Rivers.

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Nez Perce is spoken to the east of Sahaptin and includes two dialects. The Downriver dialect area is adjacent to Sahaptin along the Snake River and its tributary areas. Moving further east, the Upriver dialect is spoken along the middle and south forks of himeq’isníme ‘Clearwater River’ and was and remains the larger grouping. The Nez Perce dialects differ in the inventory of sounds and the system of vowel harmony (Aoki 1994: ix). No doubt in part due to the lack of contexts in which the languages are spoken, and the imposed reservation system which broke apart people with similar dialects and brought together disparate ones, some distinctions between the dialects in both languages are diminishing (Aoki 1994: ix, Cash Cash 2018: 28, Jansen 2010: 9, Henry Millstein, p.c.). The overall family tree is in Figure 1 and a map of the areas in Figure 2.

Fig. 1: Sahaptian languages and dialects

Fig. 2: Map of Sahaptian languages around here (to be provided)

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Since the time the language names began to be written, a number of names and spellings have been used (see list in the Appendix). Sahaptin speech community members refer to the dialects by their individual names, or by the collective terms Ichishkíin (with spelling variations) and/or Sahaptin. Nez Perce is referred to as Nimipuutímt and Niimiipuutímt (with spelling variations) or Nez Perce for the Upper dialect, and Nez Perce or Cayuse Nez Perce for the Lower dialect. Cayuse Nez Perce is not the same language as Cayuse. Cayuse, sometimes referred to as Old Cayuse, was an unrelated language spoken in the same region as Nez Perce into the 1800’s. Due to the close contact, Cayuse influenced the Nez Perce dialect of the region, in some places more so than others. (The term Cayuse is also occasionally heard as a shorter version of Cayuse Nez Perce.) Due to multiple factors including white colonialism, onset of disease, and intermarriage and political alliances with the larger Nez Perce community, Cayuse stopped being spoken and Cayuse people shifted to Nez Perce. In this chapter, I use Sahaptin and Nez Perce to refer to the languages. Nez Perce examples are labeled NP (Nez Perce, Upriver dialect). Sahaptin examples come from various dialects including Northwest dialects Klikitat (KS) and Yakama (YS), Columbia River dialects Imatalam/ Umatilla (IS) and Warm Springs (WS). Along with language names, writing systems vary across the region. Here, I have used the spelling systems (orthographies) of the original sources for more recent materials. The older Klikitat materials have been updated to the Yakama practical alphabet.

46.2 Grammatical overview This section first describes the sound systems, then lists some of the important concepts reflected in the grammar and discusses basic clause structure.

46.2.1 Sounds of the languages As do many languages of its region, Sahaptian languages have a large set of consonants and few vowels. Table 1 below lays out the consonant sounds of the languages using a standard Americanist alphabet, as is used at CTUIR. In the table, the shaded boxes (top row) include Nez Perce phonemes, and the unshaded boxes include Sahaptin phonemes. There is some variation in the characters used in various spelling systems.1 1 In Sahaptin, YS and WS use tɬ instead of ƛ, and ch and sh instead of č and š. Apostrophes substitute for glottal stop ʔ, and apostrophes indicating glottalized consonants follow the consonant (k’) as opposed to being above it (k̓). YS uses ḵ for uvular stop q and underscores uvular fricative x̱. WS uses x for the much more common uvular fricative and x ̌ for the velar fricative. Within Nez Perce writing systems, some of these same variations exist. In addition, long vowels are indicated either with a doubled letter (aa) or a following dot (a·). Comparison charts for the Sahaptin spelling systems are found in Rigsby and Rude 1996: 668, Jansen 2010: 31, for Nez Perce see Crook 1999: 47, Cash Cash 2018: 234

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The darker boxes in the table indicate places where the sound systems of Nez Perce and Sahaptin do not align. Nez Perce has glottalized nasals, liquids, and glides, and Sahaptin does not. Sahaptin has plain and glottalized affricate [č] and Nez Perce does not. In addition, the table indicates with asterisks several phonemes that are only present in the Downriver dialects of Nez Perce. Two infrequent consonants are included in parentheses and are addressed below in a discussion of sound symbolism: Nez Perce [ƛ̓] and Yakama Sahaptin [ʁ].

Glottalized glides * Downriver only

 

sah

p 

t 

np

 

c 

sah

 

c 

ƛ

č

np

p̓

t̓

 

 

sah

p̓

t̓

 

 

c̓

̓ (ƛ )

sah

 

c̓

̓ ƛ

np

 

s 

sah

 

np

k 

k w *

q 

qw *

ʔ 

k 

k 

q 

q

ʔ 

 

k̓

kw̓  *

q̓

q́ w *

 

 

 

k̓

k̓

q̓

q́

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

̌c̓

 

 

 

 

 

 

ɬ 

̌s *

 

x 

 

x̣

 

h 

s 

ɬ 

̌s

 

x 

xw

x̣

x̣w

h 

m 

n 

l 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

sah

m 

n 

l 

 

 

 

 

(ʁ)

 

 

np

m̓

n̓

l̓

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

sah

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

np

w 

 

 

 

y 

 

 

 

 

 

sah

w 

 

 

 

y 

 

 

 

 

 

np

w̓

 

 

 

y̓

 

 

 

 

 

sah

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

np

palatal

glottal

Glides

 

labiouvular

Glottalized nasals & liquids

t 

uvular

Nasals & liquids

p 

labiovelar

Fricatives

np

velar

Glottalized affricates

post-alveolar

Glottalized stops

lateral

Plain affricates

dental

Plain stops

bilabial

 

language

Tab. 1: Consonants of Sahaptian

w

w

w

w

Sahaptian 

 1145

The vowel systems of the languages are similar as well and are presented in Table 2. Both languages have short and long vowels. Again, the shaded boxes show the mismatch between systems. Nez Perce does not have the central vowel /ɨ/ (phonetically a schwa). Sahaptin languages lack Nez Perce /e/ (phonetically [æ]) and /o/. Tab. 2: Vowels of Sahaptian Nez Perce

Sahaptin

i /ii

i /ii

 

ɨ*

e/ee

 

a/aa

a/aa

o/oo**

 

u/uu

u/uu

* Not used in Warm Springs Sahaptin ** In Downriver freely alternates with /u/

Vowels in the Upriver dialect of Nez Perce influence or are influenced by the vowels surrounding them. This system of vowel harmony has been long recognized (Aoki 1966a: 759 notes it was mentioned in Morvillo 1891:121 and Phinney 1934). Within a word, the presence of a “strong” vowel causes a shift in the other vowels, so all the vowels within the word become strong. The strong (dominant) series is i, a, o, and the weak (recessive) series is i, e, u. In the presence of a strong vowel, e becomes a, and u becomes o. For example, the noun suffix –pe indicates location (and is discussed below). It has the weak vowel e. When suffixed to a word like mé·x̣sem ‘mountain’ its form does not change: me·x̣sémpe ‘in the mountains’(Aoki 1994: 522). When suffixed to a verb with a strong vowel, such as tóhon ‘leggings’, -pe becomes -pa: tohónpa ‘in leggings’(Aoki 1994: 522). In some words, suffixes, and prefixes, i is strong, and in others it is not; that is why it is part of both sets. Sahaptian languages have word level stress, with one primary stress per spoken word. Words may also have a secondary stress. Stress is indicated with raised pitch and greater intensity in the stressed syllable (Hargus and Beavert 2005 for YS) and stressed syllables are the “most prominent syllable in the word” (Crook 1999: 317 for NP). Stress is shown in the writing systems with an accent mark as in káʔuyit ‘first feast’ (IS). A stress shift can change the meaning of a word, for example YS pámta, the address form for ‘woman’s brother’s son’ and pamtá ‘bullfrog, toad’. In both languages, which syllable will be stressed is dependent on a number of factors: underlying stress on prefixes, suffixes, and roots; the tendency of some prefixes, suffixes, and roots to “steal” or maintain stress; vowel length or reduction; and penultimate (second to the last syllable) stress pat-

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terns. Nez Perce exhibits the penultimate pattern more strongly than Sahaptin (as in the above example mé·x̣sem ‘mountain’; me·x̣sémpe ‘in the mountains’). Sahaptin dialects vary in the extent and environments in which penultimate stress applies. Special forms of expression and sound symbolism are an important and expressive part of speaking Sahaptian languages. These include using sound to indicate size, either changing a consonant, doubling a word, or both, as in WS kutsk ‘a small piece of something’ vs. kutɬk ‘part of something’ and niit ‘house’ vs. líitliit ‘little house.’ Speakers use reduplication to indicate “diminutive size, pity or affection” (Jacobs 1931: 113 for Walla Walla, Northeast Sahaptin), as well as intensification and ridicule (CTUIR 2014: 8 for IS). The languages are rich in onomatopoeia or words that sound like what they are, such as KS pupupu, blowing to cool something. The glottalized lateral affricate ƛ̓ (included in parenthesis in Table 1) has only two entries in the Nez Perce Dictionary, both of which have to do with plopping or splashing in something wet, such as ƛ̓ew ‘sound of deer walking in mud’ (Aoki 1994: 421). Many bird names sound like bird calls, such as NP q̓ósq̓os ‘blackbird.’ (See CTUIR 2014: 8, Jansen 2010: 71, and appendices in Jacob 1931 and Aoki 1994 for more lists of examples). Some words are used only with babies and small children, such as YS mámak ‘go to sleep (said to or by a baby/small child)’. The YS consonant [ʁ] is found only in the baby word aḵrú ‘dad (baby talk)’ (Hargus and Beavert 2014: 322). (See Weeks 1973, Hargus and Beavert 2009 for more YS baby talk examples and Aoki 1994 for NP.) Storytellers and orators make rich and skilled use of language patterns. Animals in legends may have distinct ways of speaking: Spilyái (Sah) / ʔceyé·ya (NP) ‘Coyote’ often uses diminutives via a consonant shift such as from [n] to [l]. According to Phinney, Fox “speaks with the utmost clarity and directness,” Skunk nasalizes, and Bear slurs (1934: ix, 227 for NP). Patterns of words and grammatical forms are used in legend telling or oratory for a specific effect. A speaker’s choice between a short or long form of a pronominal enclitic (discussed below) may in part be for “phonetic rhythm” (Rigsby and Rude 1996: 675). Hymes (1987) and Hymes and Suppah (1992) describe a narrative pattern of three and five scenes, stanzas, and verses in an elder’s recollection of a childhood event in WS. Aoki (1977) also addresses patterns and formulaic speech in NP legends. Cash Cash (2018) describes oral traditions of Sahaptian peoples.

46.2.2 Important concepts in Sahaptian grammar The heart of Sahaptian communication is the verb. In many cases, a single word is all that is needed to express the action, the actor(s), and time frame, as with hihíne ‘s/he said’ (NP), which is a grammatically complete utterance. The languages are polysynthetic, meaning words may include many morphemes or parts, each contributing a particular meaning. Concepts that are built into the verb in Sahaptian often need to be expressed by additional words in English translations, as in patamachnxána ‘they used to bake them in a pit’ (WS). Here, the prefix pa- means ‘they’; támach is the verb

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‘bake/roast in a pit’; the suffix –xa indicates something that is done habitually; and the suffix –na means that it took place in the past. Parts of the verb can also indicate the manner, means or direction of the action, or refer to a relevant body part. (For more on these types of verbs, referred to as bipartite stems, see Jansen and Beavert 2011.) Nez Perce pamscó·kwanoʔqa ‘they would understand by hearing it’ (Cash Cash 2018: 127) is comprised of four morphemes: pe- indicating plural subject; mis- to hear, with the ear; cú·kwen to know; -oʔqa conditional (would). In a Sahaptian sentence if participants (subjects and objects) are already known from context, they do not have to be explicitly named, as in NP pamscó·kwanoʔqa ‘they would understand by hearing it’ above. Participants are established in discourse or a conversation early on. After they are known they may not be specifically mentioned, with only morphemes referring back to them. There is no confusion, however; the participants are clear from the grammar and the context shared by the speaker and hearer. Animacy is an important concept in the language, and is reflected in Sahaptian grammars, more robustly in Sahaptin than Nez Perce. Humans, animals, and inanimate things are unique groups, each with a different set of rules. Humans, for example, have a different set of numbers for one through ten than non-humans in both Nez Perce and Sahaptin. The next level of animacy includes mammals and birds. For YS, mobility distinguishes animals (animate) from inanimate: animate beings are independently mobile (Beavert and Hargus, 2009: xl). For WS, a factor is that domestic animals and animals closer to humans are more likely to be treated as animate (Morrison 1990: 15). Only humans and animals show dual and plural markers on nouns and plural agreement (subject agreement for Sah; both subject and object agreement for NP) on verbs. The way in which animacy is assigned is not absolute. It is responsive to discourse context and genre. Legend characters are treated as humans; during the time of legends, animals had human characteristics and could speak and reason as humans. Depending on their role or importance, reptiles, fish, or insects may be treated grammatically as animals or as inanimate beings. A herd of cattle considered to be one entity may not receive a plural suffix or plural verb agreement even though there is more than one animal in the herd. Two horses may be referred to as k’úsiy-in ‘horse-dual’ (YS) even though the dual suffix is often reserved for humans. The order of the words in a Sahaptian sentence is not completely fixed, and many variations are possible, although there are some words and particles whose position is fixed within the clause. Rude (1992b) found that if a noun occurs before the verb, that noun typically refers to a less expected participant or one that has been away from the storyline and is returning. More expected participants may follow the verb, or may not be named at all, as they are known from context.

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46.2.3 Basic verb structure Sahaptin and Nez Perce verbs share a basic pattern of conjugation, and a number of verbal morphemes are shared or recognizable across the languages. For example, 3rd person prefix hi- (NP) and i- (Sah); causative prefixes sepé·- (NP) and shapá- (Sah); a prefix meaning to tie on or around welé- (NP) and walá- (Sah). (Recall that NP e in a word with a strong vowel becomes a.) Verbs in Sahaptian languages differ according to a distinction between transitive and intransitive verbs. Intransitive verbs involve only one participant or actor. The subject of the sentence is doing the action or exhibits the state expressed by the verb. Transitive verbs require two participants, an object as well as a subject. The action of the verb is initiated by the subject and directed towards the object. Ditransitive verbs (such as ni (Sah) / ʔiní· (NP) ‘give’) have two objects and use the same grammatical mechanisms as transitive verbs. Sahaptian languages use prefixes and suffixes on the verb to indicate subjects and objects (as well as suffixes on nouns, which will be addressed below). The time frame of the action is expressed by tense and aspect suffixes that follow the verb. The differences between Nez Perce and Sahaptin are great enough that the ways subjects are indicated (person-marking) in the languages will be addressed one at a time below, beginning with Sahaptin. Additional references and more information are available in the grammars and grammar sketches listed in Section 46.5.

46.2.3.1 Sahaptin person marking Some participants are represented in a sentence by pronominal enclitics, forms that appear as the second element or in “second position” in a sentence, following the end of the first word. This may be before or after the verb. In Sahaptin, if the subject of an intransitive clause is I, we, or you (referred to as speech act participants (SAP) or 1st and 2nd person), it is coded by a second position pronominal enclitic, as in (1) =nash ‘I’ and (2) =natash ‘we’ (shortened here to =tash).2 The verbs ‘sleep’ and ‘argue’ are followed by suffixes indicating the time frame.

2 Abbreviations are as follows: 1 1st person, 2 2nd person, 3 3rd person, a transitive subject, abl ablative, all allative, assoc associative, ben benefactive, caus causative, cis cislocative, cop copula, dat dative, dem demonstrative, dir direct, erg ergative, exc exclusive, fut future, gen genitive, hab habitual, impv imperfective, incl inclusive, inst instrumental, inv inverse, irr irrealis, jnr junior, loc locative, nom nominative, nzr nominalizer, o transitive object, obj object, obv obviative, pfv perfective, pl plural, pn pronoun, pst past, rcp reciprocal, res resultative, s intransitive subject, sap speech act participant, sg singular, snr senior, tr transitive, voc vocative, = clitic boundary, – affix boundary. Also, for language names: np Nez Perce, sah Sahaptin, is Imatalam/ Umatilla Sahaptin, ks Klikitat Sahaptin, ys Yakama Sahaptin.

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Sah SAP pronominal enclitics, intransitive clauses (1)        

Yakama (Jansen 2010: 81) Awnash awkú lɨmḵ’ínx̱ana Aw=nash awkú lɨmḵ’í-nx̱a-na now=1sg then close.eyes-hab-pst ‘Then I would close my eyes’

(2)        

Yakama (Jansen 2010: 98) awtash awkú papatanawíix̱ɨnx̱a aw=natash awkú papa-tanawíix̱- ɨnx̱a now=1pl.exc then rcp-argue-hab ‘And then we argue about it’

Most of the pronominal enclitics in Sahaptin have both full and reduced forms (long and short forms), as can be seen in (2), where the full clitic =natash ‘we, 1pl.exc’ is reduced to =tash. The set of clitics represents differentiations that are not made in English: there is a form for you singular (=nam ‘you, 2sg’) vs. you plural (=pam ‘you, 2pl’), and inclusive ‘we all’ (=na ‘we, 1pl.incl) vs. exclusive ‘we but not you’ (=natash ‘we, 1pl.exc’). Finally, most pronominal enclitics mark subjects, objects and possessors with the same form. (For more on pronominal enclitics and differences between pronominal enclitics and pronouns in YS see Jansen 2010: 78–88, 190.) An exception are the forms =mash and =matash. These are 2nd person forms that have more than one role. Firstly, they indicate 2nd person singular and plural possession in intransitive clauses. Example (3) shows the singular form =mash: Sah SAP pronominal enclitic, 2nd person possessive (3)        

Imatalam/ Umatilla (CTUIR 2014: 176) k̓úsimaš wa k̓úsi=maš wa horse=2sg.gen cop ‘it is your horse’

Secondly, in transitive and ditransitive clauses, =mash  / =matash indicates both the subject and object when the clause has a 1st person subject ‘I’ and a 2nd person object ‘you’ as in example (4): Sah SAP pronominal enclitic, 1>2 transitive (4)        

Imatalam/ Umatilla (CTUIR 2014: 176) kumaš áw wiláalakwta ku=maš áw wiláalakw-ta and=1sg>2sg now leave-fut ‘and now I will leave you’

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If the subject is she, he, it, or they – known linguistically as 3rd person– the subject is indicated by verb prefixes, forms that attach to the beginning of the verb word. The tense and aspect suffixes indicating the time frame again follow the verb. Sah 3rd person verb prefixes (5)        

Warm Springs (Morrison 1990: 20) itútiša i-túti-ša 3sg.s/a-stand-impv ‘s/he/it is standing’

(6)        

Warm Springs (Morrison 1990: 20) pawínaša pa-wína-ša 3pl.s/a-go-impv ‘they are going’

46.2.3.2 Nez Perce person marking In Nez Perce, patterns are similar. One difference is that the pronominal enclitics are only used following a certain set of sentence-initial particles. Below, the enclitic =x on the word qecee ‘even’ indicates that the subject is ‘I’. Suffixes on the verb show the time frame: NP SAP pronominal enclitics (7)      

Nez Perce (Aoki 1970: 129) qecee-x (’iin) kúu-se even=1sg (1sgs.pn) go-impv ‘even I am going’

Because the enclitics are often not used, clauses may be ambiguous out of context, as in the following intransitive example: (8)      

Nez Perce (Rude 1985: 31) páayn-a arrive-pst ‘I arrived’ OR ‘you arrived’

At first glance, that can seem confusing; it is important to know who it was who arrived. But if this phrase were heard in a conversation, it would be clear from that discourse context. If a speaker wants to be sure to be understood or to add emphasis, they can add a pronoun, like optional ’iin ‘I’ in example (7).

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In Nez Perce, prefixes again show 3rd person subjects: NP 3rd person verb prefixes (9)      

Nez Perce (Rude 1985: 31) hi-páayn-a 3nom-arrive-pst ‘s/he arrived’

In order to mark plural 3rd person, an additional prefix indicating plurality is added along with hi-. This prefix pe- is shown in (10): (10)      

Nez Perce (Rude 1985: 38) háham hi-pe-ki-yú’ men 3nom-pl.s/a-go-irr ‘the men will go’

Plurality of subjects and objects can add a great deal of morphological complexity to Nez Perce verbs that is not addressed here. For example, some tense and aspect markers differentiate singular from plural subjects, and in that case the plural prefix is not used. A plural 3rd person object might require an additional verb prefix. Although the extent of this complexity cannot be fully addressed here, additional examples can be found for NP in Aoki (1970); Crook (1999); Rude (1995); for Sahaptian in Gildea and Jansen (2018); Zúñiga 2006; for YS in Jansen (2010). Useful NP paradigms are in Deal (2015: 405–412).

46.2.3.3 Tense and aspect Tense and aspect endings suffix to the verb to indicate the time or time frame of the action. Between the tense and aspect markers are morphemes that indicate direction towards or away from the speaker. Conditional (would, could) and imperative (command) suffixes also attach directly to the verb. This set of suffixes (aspect, directional, tense, conditional and imperative) has been called the inflectional suffix complex following Aoki (1970). Charts of the inflectional suffix complexes are found for NP in Rude (1995:67–68) and for IS in CTUIR (2014:8). Verbs in both Sahaptin and Nez Perce can be divided into classes which are evident due to differences in form and behavior. These classes influence the initial sounds of the tense and aspect suffix complex. Scholars who have worked with Nez Perce have referred to these verbs as ‘s-class’ and ‘c-class’ in reference to these sound differences. The recent and remote pasts (as well as other tenses and aspects) are conditioned by the verb class, resulting in suffixes that begin with different sounds. This is seen in examples (11a) and (11b) for s-class verb hípi ‘eat’ and c-class verb hekí ‘see’.

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NP verb classes (11a)      

Nez Perce (Aoki 1994: xv) s-class hípi ‘eat’ hip-sá·qa ‘I ate (recent past)’ hip-sé·ne ‘I ate (remote past)’

(11b)      

Nez Perce (Aoki 1994: xv) c-class hekí ‘see’ hak-cá·qa ‘I saw (recent past)’ hak-cé·ne ‘I saw (remote past)’

In Sahaptin, verb stems can also be divided into a class in which an n appears before some suffixes and a class in which it does not. In describing this, Morrison (1990) labeled the two WS classes n-verbs and zero-verbs. CTUIR 2014: 10 describes three classes for IS: zero-verb, n-verbs, and nn-verbs. However, for YS, there is variability as to whether a verb will behave as an n-verb or zero-verb (Beavert and Hargus 2009: xlvii-xlviii, Jansen 2010: 66–67). Across languages and dialects the classes are not entirely predictable, and so which tense and aspect markers to use must be memorized. We turn now to look at some of the ways the roles of nouns in sentences are indicated using noun suffixes called case markers.

46.3 Nouns and case marking Sahaptian languages have an extensive set of case markers that attach to nouns and noun phrases to express how and why the noun belongs in the sentence. Some, termed ‘core’ or ‘relational’ case markers, indicate subjects and objects in sentences. These will be more fully addressed in Section 46.4 below. A second set of ‘oblique’ case markers expresses concepts such as possession (genitive); the one who is with or accompanying someone (associative); location (locative); destination (allative); origin (ablative); instrument (instrumental); recipient or specific destination (dative); the one benefiting from or providing a purpose for something (benefactive). (The genitive and associative cases can also indicate subjects of sentences but are not addressed in Section 46.4. They are included in this section following the categorization of Rude 2009: 14 and for completeness.) Case markers contribute to flexible word order as word order is not needed to indicate the noun’s role in the sentence. The two following examples show the locative case marker –pe (NP) (-pa in example (12) due to vowel harmony with strong vowel [o]) and –pa (Sah). This marker is most usually translated to English as ‘in, on, at’:

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Locative case marker, NP and Sah (12)        

Nez Perce (Aoki 1989: 128) ʔíin wees cikáawı̕ s lóox̣mitpa ʔíin wees cikáawı̕ s lóox̣mit-pa 1.sg.pn cop brilliant stickgame-loc ‘I’m an expert in the stick game’

(13)        

Yakama (Jansen 2010: 165) iyáwtaanx̱a wánapa i-yáwtaan-x̱a wána-pa 3sg.s-float-hab river-loc ‘it floats on the river’

Table 3 includes Nez Perce and Sahaptin case markers. There are likely other variants not represented here. Sahaptin dialect variations are labeled when it is the dialect that determines the difference in the form. For the Sahaptin benefactive -ani, -ay, the variation has not been described as dialect-specific (see for example Rigsby and Rude 1996: 679). Some variants in both languages, such as the genitive forms and NP allative and ablative, are conditioned by the word they attach to (Rude 1985). Emphatic forms are not included here. Tab. 3: Sahaptian oblique noun case markers  

Sahaptin

Nez Perce

with, accompanying (associative or ASSOC)

-in (animate only)

-iin

of, possessor (genitive or GEN)

-(n)mí

-m, -nm, -nim

for the purpose/benefit of (benefactive or BEN)

-ani, -ay

-ʔayn

towards, destination (allative or ALL)

-kan

-(p)x, -kex

to, into, goal (dative or DAT)

-yaw

 

from, origin of motion (ablative or ABL)

-kni, (IS, WS) -knik (YS)

-(p)kin̓ ix -me

located at, in, on (locative or LOC)

-pa

-pe

by means of, with (instrumental or INST)

-ki

-ki

resultative (RES)

 

-wecet

vocative (VOC)

 

-eʔ (senior) -e (junior)

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While the chart shows quite a few forms that look related across the languages, for example benefactive -ay (Sah) and -ʔayn (NP), there are differences. Sahaptin descriptions include a dative and Nez Perce descriptions do not, although Aoki (1994: xiv) differentiates NP -kex ‘toward’ and -x ‘to,’ which might reflect the same distinction as Sahaptin does in the allative and dative forms. The allative form does not match across languages. Resultative (‘because of’), temporal (‘at this time’), and vocative (used when calling to someone) cases are described for Nez Perce but not Sahaptin. The Nez Perce vocative case is only used with relationship terms, with one form for elder relations and one for younger relations. (Sahaptin also has vocative forms for family relations but they are not formed with a predictable case marker.) Since grandparent and grandchild relationship terms are reciprocal, meaning the same term is used for the grandparent and grandchild, it is only the difference in the case marker, a final glottal stop, which identifies who is being called, seen in the following examples. Of course, the discourse context and who is speaking would also clarify the one being called. qalác means ‘father’s father’ or ‘man’s son’s child.’ NP vocative (14a)        

Nez Perce (Crook, 1999: 70) qaláca qálac-e paternal.male.grand.relation-JnrVoc ‘Grandson! Granddaughter!’

(14b)        

Nez Perce (Crook, 1999: 70) qalácaʔ qálac-eʔ paternal.male.grand.relation-SnrVoc ‘Grandfather!’

Descriptions of some of the case markers in other grammars and sources have different labels: for example, Rigsby and Rude (1996) use comitative where this description and Rude (2009) use associative; Rude (2009) uses allative where this description and others use dative, and versative where this description and others use allative. In any source, the examples are what provide information about how a form is used. They are more important than the labels. While it is possible to assign a shorthand meaning to each of the oblique noun cases, the range of concepts each one covers is broader than its label. For example, the instrumental suffix -ki can attach to a noun naming a tool that is used to do something: kápnki ‘with a digging stick’ (WS). This use fits very neatly with the label ‘instrumental’ and the translation ‘with’. But -ki also is a common suffix on k’úsi ‘horse’ or wasíis ‘canoe’ to indicate the means of travel (‘on a horse/ in a canoe’). It is suffixed to the name of a language to mean speaking in that language, or to indicate the thing that one is thinking

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or speaking about. It can mean ‘about’ or ‘concerning, as in Warm Springs čau ik’štun­ xana tkwátaki ‘he did not worry about food’ (Morrison 1990: 75). Other case markers similarly cover a range of meanings (see more discussion of Sahaptin case markers in Morrison 1999:61–75 for WS; Jansen 2010: 158–182, and refer to entries for individual markers in CTUIR 2014 and Aoki 1994). The distinction between human and non-human is seen in case marking. Humans in Sahaptin have the genitive suffix –mí preceding the case ending: miyuux̣-mí-kni (chiefgen-abl) ‘from the chief’ (IS, CTUIR 2014: 137). Usually, humans are not indicated with the benefactive case marker, as a human beneficiary typically becomes a direct object. The case markers and their meanings also are relevant for personal, demonstrative, and interrogative pronoun sets. The forms are irregular and there is dialectal and speaker variation. Beavert and Hargus’s YS paradigm for singular íchi ‘this’ includes íchiyay, chnáyk’ay ‘for this’ (ben); íchiini ‘over here, to here’ (all); íchɨn ‘here, to this, for this’ (dat); chɨ́nik ‘from here, on/from this side’ (abl); íchna ‘here’ (loc); íchɨnki ‘with this’ (inst) (2009: liii). When these demonstratives are in a phrase with a noun, they must agree in case with the noun as in chɨ́nik ɬkwʼí-knik ‘from this day’ (that.abl day-abl).

46.4 Transitive patterns: Subject and object case marking This section returns to Sahaptian verbs, offering a more in-depth description of how verbs work in transitive clauses, which include two or more participants. Sahaptian is known and studied worldwide for its rare and complex system of indicating participants in transitive clauses. The pronominal enclitics and prefixes described in Section 46.2.3 are only a subset of the complete system of pronominal enclitics, verb prefixes and grammatical case markers that are used to indicate the specific combination of subject and object. These vary depending on the person (1st person ‘I, we’; 2nd ‘you, you all’, 3rd ‘s/he/it, they’) of the subject and the object. Plurality is important, and animacy and topicality are also factors. We will look at examples of only a subset of the system, transitive clauses in which there is a singular 3rd person agent ‘s/he/it’ and object ‘him/her/it’. The word agent is used here to indicate a subject of a transitive verb. Agents in Sahaptian may be casemarked with an ergative marker. Ergative refers to a situation in which the subject of a transitive clause is treated uniquely in the grammar, unlike any other participant in a transitive or intransitive clause. In Sahaptian, named 3rd person subjects of transitive clauses with 3rd person objects (the ones addressed in this section) take ergative case marking. The purpose in providing the examples is to demonstrate but not fully describe the intricacy of the system. Many aspects of it, such as NP object agreement on the verb, are left aside.

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Example (15) shows the transitive verb prefix pée- on the verb ‘shoot’ and the object suffix -ne on the noun ‘buck’. Pée- is used in Nez Perce when there is a 3rd person agent and a 3rd person singular object. –ne case-marks the object. (The examples below are not segmented in the original and are presented here as they are in that source, without breaks between morphemes.) NP transitive clause, 3rd person singular agent and 3rd person singular object (15)      

Nez Perce (Phinney 1934 366.3 in Rude 1985: 93) koná pée’wime himeq’íictewisiisne there 3tr-shoot-cis-pfv great.antlered.buck-obj ‘there he shot a great antlered buck’

Example (16) includes an overt (named) agent ’áatway ‘old woman’. The ergative (erg) suffix –nim is required on the agent: (16)      

Nez Perce (Phinney 1934 115.12 in Rude 1985: 89) kaa wéet’u koníix ’áatwaynim péecimxe and not that-abl old.woman-erg 3tr-hate-perf ‘and thenceforth that old woman did not hate locust’

t’ext’éxne locust-obj

Examples (15) and (16) then show two of the ways Nez Perce nouns can be suffixed to indicate their role in the sentence: -ne marks the object and –nim the agent. A third way is found in example (10), where the noun háham ‘men’ has no suffix. Sahaptin similarly includes a specific verb prefix and noun suffixes in transitive clauses with a 3rd person agent and a 3rd person singular object. The verb prefix pá- and object marker -na are similar in form to Nez Perce, but the marker for the subject, seen here on natútas ‘my father’ is different: here, on a term for a relative it is -ayin; the form on most nouns is -in (see CTUIR 2014:30–40 for IS kinship paradigms): Sah transitive clause, 3rd person singular agent and 3rd person singular object (17)        

Imatalam/ Umatilla (CTUIR 2014: 211) natútasayin pátwapaytiša k’usik’úsina natútas-ayin pá-twapayti-ša k’usik’úsi-na my.father-obv.erg inv-chase-impv horse-obj ‘my father is chasing the horse’

Table 4 summarizes the morphemes used in these examples, along with the prefixes used in intransitive clauses (as seen in sections 2.3.1 and 2.3.2) for comparison.

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Tab. 4: Transitive morphology, singular third person agent and object  

type of clause

verb prefix

agent case marking

object case marking

Nez Perce Sahaptin Nez Perce Sahaptin

3 >3sg 3sg >3sg intrans 3sg intrans 3sg

pée- ‘3tr’ pá- ‘inv’ hi- ‘3nom’ i- 3sg.s/a

-nim ‘3tr’ -in ‘obv.erg’ none none

-ne ‘obj’ -nan, -na ‘obj’ n/a n/a

Finally, a few additional examples show other ways nouns and verbs can be marked in transitive sentences. In Sahaptin, a different case marker is used for the 3rd person agent when there is a 1st or 2nd person object (‘me, us, you, you all’). Note that this marker is similar in form to -nim, used on Nez Perce agents in the examples above. The verb prefix in the sentence below is the same as was seen on intransitive examples (5) and (13). Sah Transitive clause, 3rd person singular agent and SAP object (18)        

Yakama (Jansen 2010: 364) Pilly Puutsnɨmnam ináktkwaninta Pilly Puuts-nɨm=nam i-náktkwanin-ta Billy Boots-inv.erg=2sg 3sg.s/a-care.for-fut ‘Billy Boots will take care of you’

Example (18) then shows the fourth way in Sahaptin that a noun indicating a subject or object can be indicated: it can be 1) left without a marker, 2) receive the object marker -na (or -nan depending on dialect) or have one of two subject markers 3) -in or 4) -nɨm as in (18). Finally, some transitive clauses have no morphological indication of transitivity: no case marking, and verbal prefix hi- (NP) / i- (Sah) rather than pée-(NP) /pá- (Sah). In the NP example in (19), wít’e ‘raft’ carries no case marker and the verb prefix is intransitive hi- (seen here as ha- due to vowel harmony). NP detransitivized clause (19)      

Nez Perce (Phinney 1934.3.4, in Rude 1985: 160) kíi wít’e ha-aní-ya and raft 3nom-make-pst ‘now he made a raft’

These grammatically intransitive clauses, which have been termed by Sahaptian researchers as antipasssive (see for example Rude 1985, 1994, 2009) detransitivized (Crook 1999: 237, Gildea and Jansen 2018, Zúñiga 2006) or caseless (Deal 2010b) are a way for the speaker to indicate that the object is not particularly important to the discussion.

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This section has shown that within the Sahaptian languages, subjects and objects are case marked in intricate and distinct ways, with three categories defined by case markers in Nez Perce and four in Sahaptin. This is a relative rarity in the languages of the world, in which more commonly just two categories are distinguished (see discussion in Mithun 1999: 229). It is a striking feature of Sahaptian grammar and one that means there is relatively little chance of those involved in a conversation getting confused as to the identity of the participants, perhaps opening the door to flexibility offered by a freer word order, inclusion of fewer overt nouns, or the ability to fluidly switch attention to or away from participants.

46.5 Further reading A number of recent book publications have substantially changed learning and learning about Sahaptian languages, including dictionaries for Nez Perce (Aoki 1994), Umatilla (CTUIR 2014) and Yakama (Beavert and Hargus 2009). A Sahaptian place names atlas (Hunn et al. 2015) includes essays and maps as well as place names in the languages spoken at CTUIR, and it includes an appendix of plant and animal names. Beavert (2017, based on Beavert 2012) is a bilingual book with information about the language and cultures, as well as life reflections of Yakama Elder Tux̱ámshish, Dr. Virginia Beavert. Cash Cash (2018) looks at linguistic practices as they are rooted in and guided by culture. Beavert, Jacob, and Jansen (2021) is an updated edition of Yakama legends, now with additional legends presented in Ichishkíin. Narratives, legends and other verbal art forms, termed ‘texts’ in older or linguistic publications, provide literature and reading opportunities for language learners as well as linguistic information. Literature is in the sources mentioned above as well as Aoki (1978, 1979); Aoki and Walker (1989); Beavert and Walker (1974); Cash Cash (2018); Crook and Wasson (2013); Hunn and Selam (1990); Hymes (1987); Hymes and Suppah (1992); Jansen (2010); Jansen and Beavert (2011); Moses et al. (2014); Rigsby (1978); Rude (1985). Published audio CDs of legends are available (Beavert 2011), and the Haruo Aoki Papers on the Nez Perce Language (Moses et al. 2014) has many online resources including audio. Older texts are in Jacobs (1921, 1931, 1934, 1937) and Phinney (1934). A focus on language teaching and learning has resulted in publications that address ways to do so and describe current efforts. These are in Anderson (2020), Cash Cash (2018), Hugo (2017), Jacob (2013), Jacob et al. (2019); Jansen (2010); Jansen and Beavert (2010); Jansen, Underriner and Jacob (2013); Jansen, Switzler, and Underriner (2020), Underriner and Jansen (2018). Teaching math using YS is addressed in Ruef et al. (2019, 2020). There are online collections of teaching resources. Teaching materials, including audio, were developed by Virginia Beavert and assembled by Russell Hugo and are available at the University of Washington’s Sahaptin (Ichishkíin Sínwit) Language Teaching

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Archive (http://depts.washington.edu/sahteach/). Multimedia material developed by Virginia Beavert and others is at the University of Oregon’s Northwest Indian Language Institute’s online Resource Center (http://nilirc.com/). There are short grammatical descriptions at the beginning of the dictionaries mentioned above and in Mithun (1999). Other grammars and sketches are in Aoki (1970), Crook (1999), Jansen (2010), Rigsby and Rude (1996), Rude (1985, 2009). An overview of the sound systems is found in these as well as in Hargus and Beavert (2014). Other unpublished works are listed in Aoki (1970), Cash Cash (2018), Jansen (2010), and Rude (1985). Early work on the languages was done by priests, missionaries and surveyors and includes translations of Bible materials, primers, and word lists. These sources include Ainslie (1876), Cataldo (1909, 1914), Hale (1946), Morvillo (1891, 1995), Pandosy (1962), St. Onge (1872). This chapter briefly presents aspects of the language that have been focused on in depth elsewhere. The Sahaptian family, its history and relations are addressed by Aoki (1962, 1963, 1966a, 1966b, 1975), DeLancey (1992), DeLancey, Genetti and Rude (1988), Gildea and Jansen (2018), Jacobsen (1968), Kinkade (1995), Mithun (1999), Pharris and Thomason (2005), Rigsby (1965a, 1965b, 1997b, 2009), Rigsby and Silverstein (1969), Zúñiga (2006). Vowel harmony is considered by Aoki (1966a, 1968), Hall and Hall (1977), Jacobsen (1968), Rigsby (1965b), Rigsby and Silverstein (1969). Stress, syllable structure and morphophonemics are in Crook (1996, 1999), Deal and Wolf (2016), Hargus (2001), Hargus and Beavert (2001, 2002a, 2002b,2005, 2006a, 2006b, 2014). Cash Cash (2005, 2006, 2018) and Hymes (1987, 1992) look at the structure of discourse, narratives and oratory. Issues of case marking and transitivity are addressed by Beavert and Jansen (2013); Deal (2007, 2008, 2010a, 2010b, 2015, 2016c), Hymes (1984), Jansen (2012), Kinkade (1989, 1990), Rude (1998, 1992a, 1994, 1997a, 1997b, 2009), Van Lier, Witzlack-Makarevich and Jansen (2016), Woolford (1997), Zúñiga (2006). Deal focuses on NP semantics (2016a, 2016b, 2016d,2020). Other topics concerning Sahaptian verb and clause structure are in Deal (2016a, 2016b, 2016d), Jansen and Beavert (2011) Rude (1992b, 1996, 1997a, 1999).

46.6 Language revitalization Within the Sahaptian communities, language vitality is increasing. Adults are choosing to learn, speak and advocate for their languages, and more children are using their languages. The number of speakers and learners is on an upswing, the result of a tremendous amount of effort. Each Tribal language program—at the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation (CT), the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation (CTUIR), the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs (CTWS), the Nez Perce Tribe (NPT), and the Yakama Nation (YN) —offers classes and has supported younger adults to learn from fluent elders. There is no single approach to language revitalization. Suc-

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cesses reflect local languages, cultures, communities, and the strengths of the individuals involved. Revitalization activities are not distinct from the linguistic analysis presented in the preceding sections. For example, a university class meets online with their Sapsikw’aɬá (teacher). The students are at the end of their first year and are creating projects that support home language that will be shared with learners and families beyond the class. One group is working on a self-narration script for getting ready in the morning, focusing on braiding hair. A new-to-them verb describing the motion of the comb over the head to make a part comes up: twáyana-. Linguistically, we now have an example of a new use of a Yakama dialect bipartite stem with the components twá- ‘longish- object moving radially’ and -yawna ‘movement over.’ As the elder describes the braiding process she uses the case marker -yaw to indicate that hair is braided all the way to the end, another “new” example extending the known range of meanings of the case-maker. There is a long history within and across Sahaptian communities of this intertwined work of linguistics and revitalization. Archie Phinney, early Nez Perce linguist and activist, bilingual speaker of Nimipuutímt and English, worked with his mother Mary Phinney as she told traditional stories, resulting in the volume Nez Percé Texts (Phinney 1934). Phinney reflected om the value of the work to the future, noting that they were bringing out “phraseology no longer current. The narrator revealed a remarkable memory for archaic words and forms, even to such an extent that many words were recalled the meanings of which have been lost” (Phinney 1934: vii). Ten of the Phinneys’ texts have been more recently published in a reader (Crook and Wasson 2013), making them more easily available and accessible for teaching and learning uses. The remainder of this section focuses on several of many Sahaptian revitalization activities: language competitions and gatherings, language in written and performing arts, and the involvement of colleges and universities in teaching and researching. Several communities bring learners together for celebrations and competitions highlighting language use. The inaugural event was the Language Knowledge Bowl which celebrated its tenth and final (for now) year in 2019. This gathering brought together 40 teams of 150+ speakers and learners of Sahaptian – as well as Kiksht and Numu – from across the region for a day of elimination-style rounds of competition at CTUIR (CUJ 2018: 49). Learners of all ages participated, and the teams prepared their word lists and study guides months in advance. Each team brought their own judge since competition organizers are not experts in each of the dialects and languages represented. The Language Knowledge Bowl inspired similar events at individual Tribal Nations, such as the Language Showcase at the Warm Springs K-8 Academy sponsored by the public school district and CTWS. These events provide a context where learners and languages are celebrated, and learners of related dialects can meet and communicate across dialects. Participants experience the camaraderie and support of other learners. In this way, the events are much more than competitions. Above, Section 46.5 (Further reading) included literature and reading opportunities, listing materials that are entirely written in Sahaptian languages with an English trans-

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lation. But these are not the only places to see, read or hear the languages. A number of Indigenous writers and visual artists interweave words and phrases from their own Sahaptian languages into their art, and their works speak to a broad audience in a way that a linguistic or academic text does not. Elizabeth Woody, eighth poet laureate of Oregon, incorporates her Warm Springs language into some of her works, as the root names “pia-xi, khoush, sowit-k, wak amu” in her essay By Our Hand, through the Memory, the House Is More than Form (Woody 1993: 88). Nez Perce words and phrases appear in writer Beth Piatote’s works including The Beadworkers (2019) in poems, section headings and characters’ dialogues. Tim’néepe: Heart of the Monster is a stage play and video of the Niimiipuu creation story produced by the NPT. Opening credits of the video version read “Niimiipuum Tiitwátit – The People’s Story – produced by Niimiipuu and performed by Niimiipuu speaking Nimipuutimt.” (Nez Perce Tribe n.d., 0:14). It has been presented in person and online and was an M.A. project of Angel Sobotta at the University of Idaho. It is one of several Nez Perce theatre performances. Additional stories and videos are on the Nez Perce Language Program’s website and other individual and university YouTube channels, Facebook accounts, and websites. All of these artistic materials and performances increase visibility and accessibility for the languages. They also honor multilingualism and varying levels of language knowledge and use. Contributing to language revitalization in different ways, a number of universities, colleges and Tribal colleges in the region support Sahaptian languages. Students are using their own Indigenous languages to meet entrance and exit requirements. At Lewis-Clark State College, the college and NPT have partnered to offer a Nez Perce Language minor that includes one-on-one mentoring by Tribal Elders and offers distance learning opportunities to students at other universities. Heritage University, a private university located on the Yakama Nation, offers language classes for credit. Tribal members can take the classes free of charge and classes are scheduled to facilitate Tribal employees to use education leave time and/or their lunch hour to attend. Portland State University has offered Warm Springs Ichishkin as does Central Oregon Community College. Blue Mountain Community College offers first year Umatilla. Other programs are being established. The University of Oregon offers Ichishkíin classes with the involvement of Yakama elder Dr. Virginia Beavert. (See Anderson (2020), Jacob (2013), Jacob et al. (2019), Jansen and Beavert (2010), Jansen, Underriner and Jacob (2013), Ruef et al. (2019), Ruef et al. (2020), Underriner and Jansen (2018) for more on this course and its students.) As noted above, a focus of this program is reciprocity. Curriculum and student projects are developed based on what will be useful across teaching and learning contexts, and developed materials are shared. An example of this is the student projects that focus on a home or daily domain, such as exercising, making a particular type of food, or taking a car trip. Students are documenting previously unstudied domains and making the results available, as well as enriching the documentation’s usefulness by developing materials so that the language can be used. University involvement thus strengthens the linguistic

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work that supports revitalization, but also directly supports revitalization by developing teaching materials that meet the needs of community partners.

46.6 Conclusion My hope is that describing the languages and language revitalization efforts could provide insights for language practitioners and researchers across regions, so that ideas could be adapted and applied in other contexts. I hope to have shared a small part of the beauty of the Sahaptian languages and in doing so honor those who have graciously and generously shared their languages, and so much more, with me. Átaw pam wa, átaw matash wa sɨ́nwit.

Appendix: Sahaptian list of names Sahaptian, Shahaptian Nez Perce, Niimiipuu, Niimiipuutímt, Niimiputímt, Nuumíipuu, Chopunnish, Titoqatímt Upriver dialect, also Upper, Eastern, Nimipu Downriver dialect, also Lower, Lower River, Cayuse Nez Perce, Western, Numipu Sahaptin, Ichishkíin, Ichishkin, ’Ichishkin, ’Ichishkíin, Chíshkin, Shahaptin, Shawpatin Northeast dialects: Palouse, Palus, Peluuspem, Walla Walla, Walúula, Priest Rapids, Wanapam, Lower Snake, Wawyukma, Naxiyampam, Chamnapam Northwest dialects: Klickitat, Klikitat, X̱waɬx̱waypam, Kittitas, Pshwanwapam, Yakima, Yakama, Mamachatpam, Wanapum, Taitnapam, Taytnapam, Upper Cowlitz, Upper Nisqually, Mishálpam Southern/Columbia River dialects: Umatilla, Imatalam, Rock Creek, Q’miɬtpam, John Day, Celilo, Wayamɬama, Tenino, Tinaynu, Tygh Valley, Warm Springs

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Aoki, Haruo. 1963. On Sahaptian-Klamath linguistic affiliations. International Journal of American Linguistics 29. 107–112. Aoki, Haruo. 1966a. Nez Perce vowel harmony and proto-Sahaptian vowels. Language 42(4). 759–767. Aoki, Haruo. 1966b. Nez Perce and Proto-Sahaptian kinship terms. International Journal of American Linguistics 32. 357–68. Aoki, Haruo. 1968. Toward a typology of vowel harmony. International Journal of American Linguistics 34. 142–145. Aoki, Haruo. 1970. Nez Perce grammar. University of California Publications in Linguistics, v. 62. Berkeley: University of California Press. Aoki, Haruo. 1975. The East Plateau linguistic diffusion area. International Journal of American Linguistics 41. 183–199. Aoki, Haruo. 1978. Coyote and the fox. In William Bright (ed.), Coyote stories, 24–31. (International Journal of American Linguistics Native American Texts Series No. 1). Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Aoki, Haruo. 1979. Nez Perce texts. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 90). Berkeley: University of California Press. Aoki, Haruo. 1994. Nez Perce dictionary. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 122). Berkeley: University of California Press. Aoki, Haruo & Deward Walker, Jr. 1989. Nez Perce oral narratives. (University of California Publications in Linguistics, Vol. 104). Berkeley: University of California Press. Beavert, Virginia. 2011. Tiinmamí timnanáx̲t: Legends of the Sahaptin speaking people, volume 1–2. Lake Forest Park, WA: Northwest Heritage Resources. CD. Beavert, Virginia. 2012. Wántwint inmí tiináwit: A Reflection of what I have learned. Eugene, OR: University of Oregon dissertation. Beavert, Virginia. 2017. The Gift of knowledge / Ttnúwit átawish nch’inch’imamí: Reflections on Sahaptin ways. Ed. Janne Underriner. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Beavert, Virginia & Sharon Hargus. 2009. Ichishkíin Sínwit: Yakama/Yakima Sahaptin dictionary. Toppenish & Seattle WA: Heritage University & University of Washington Press. Beavert, Virginia, Michelle Jacob & Joana Jansen (eds.). 2021. Anakú iwachá: Yakama stories and legends. 2nd edn. Seattle University of Washington Press. Beavert, Virginia & Joana Jansen. 2013. Agent case marking in Sahaptian. In Tim Thornes, Gwendolyn Hyslop, Joana Jansen & Erik Andvik (eds.), Functional-historical approaches to explanation, 131–154. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Beavert, Virginia & Deward E. Walker. 1974. The way it was: Anaku iwacha: Yakima legends. Yakima, WA: Franklin Press, The Consortium of Johnson O’Malley Committees of Region IV, State of Washington. Cash Cash, Phillip E. 2005. ke yóx hitamtáaycaqa c’íiqinpa (that which is reported in talk): Reported speech in Nez Perce. Coyote Papers 13. 75–85. Cash Cash, Phillip E. 2006. Oral traditions of the Natítaytma. In Jennifer Karston (ed.), wiyáx̣ạ yx̣ṭ as days go by wiyáakaaʔawn: Our history, our land, and our people – the Cayuse, Umatilla, and Walla Walla, 5–19. Pendleton and Portland: Tamátslikt Cultural Institute and Oregon Historical Society Press. Cash Cash, Phillip E. 2018. Language use in the Indigenous Southern Plateau. Tucson: The University of Arizona dissertation. Cataldo, Joseph M. (Translator). 1909. Prayers, catechism, hymns in the Numipu Language (Nez Perce) for the use of the St. Joseph’ s Missions, S.J., in Oregon and Idaho. Pendleton, OR: Pendleton Printery. Cataldo, Joseph M. (Translator). 1914. Jesus-Christ-nim kinne uetas-pa kut ka-kala time-nin i-ues pilep-eza-pa taz-pa tamtai-pa numipu-timt-ki. The Life of Jesus Christ from the four gospels in the Nez Perces language. Portland, OR: Press of Schwab Printing Co. Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation (CTUIR) and Noel Rude. 2014. Umatilla dictionary. Seattle: Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation in association with University of Washington Press.

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Hargus, Sharon & Virginia Beavert. 2002a. Yakima Sahaptin clusters and epenthetic [ɨ]. Anthropological Linguistics 44. 231–277. Hargus, Sharon & Virginia Beavert. 2002b. Predictable versus underlying vocalism in Yakima Sahaptin. International Journal of American Linguistics 68. 316–40. Hargus, Sharon & Virginia Beavert. 2005. A note on the phonetic correlates of stress in Yakima Sahaptin. University of Washington Working Papers in Linguistics 24. 64–95. Hargus, Sharon & Virginia Beavert. 2006a. Word-initial clusters and minimality in Yakima Sahaptin. Phonology 23. 21–58. Hargus, Sharon & Virginia Beavert. 2006b. High-ranking affix faithfulness in Yakima Sahaptin. In Don Baumer, David Montero & Michael Scanlon (eds.), Proceedings of the 25th West Coast Conference on Formal Linguistics, 177–185. MA: Cascadilla Proceedings Project. Hargus, Sharon & Virginia Beavert. 2014. Northwest Sahaptin. Journal of the International Phonetic Association 44(3). 319–342. Hargus, Sharon. 2001. Quality sensitive stress reconsidered. University of Washington Working Papers in Linguistics 20. 25–56. Hugo, Russell. 2017. Endangered languages, technology and learning: A Yakama/Yakima Sahaptin case study. Seattle, WA: University of Washington dissertation. Hunn, Eugene S., & James Selam. 1990. Nch’i-wána, “The Big River”: Mid-Columbia Indians and their land. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Hunn, Eugene, E. Thomas Morning Owl, Phillip Cash Cash, & Jennifer Karson Engum. 2015. Čáw pawá láakni = They are not forgotten, Sahaptian place names atlas of the Cayuse, Umatilla, and Walla Walla. Pendleton and Portland, OR: Tamástslikt Cultural Institute; in association with Ecotrust. Hymes, Virginia. 1984. Some features of Warm Springs Sahaptin. Working papers of Linguistics Circle of University of Victoria 4. 229–235. Hymes, Virginia. 1987. Warm Springs Sahaptin narrative analysis. In Joel Sherzer & Tony Woodbury (eds.), Native American discourse: Poetics and rhetoric, 62–102. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Hymes, Virginia & Hazel Suppah. 1992. How long ago we got lost: A Warm Springs Sahaptin narrative. Anthropological Linguistics 34. 73–83. Jacob, Michelle M. 2013. Yakama rising: Indigenous cultural revitalization, activism, and healing. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Jacob, Michelle, Virginia Beavert, Regan Anderson, Leilani Sabzalian & Joana Jansen. 2019. Átaw iwá Ichishkíin Sɨ ́nwit: The importance of Ichishkíin in advancing Indigenous feminist education. Feminist Studies 45(2–3). 290–311. Jacobs, Melville. 1929. Northwest Sahaptin texts. University of Washington Publications in Anthropology, volume 2, no. 6, 175–244. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Jacobs, Melville. 1931. A Sketch of Northern Sahaptin grammar. University of Washington Publications in Anthropology v. 4, no. 6, 85–291. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Jacobs, Melville. 1934. Northwest Sahaptin texts. (English Translations). Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology, v. 19, prt 1. New York: Columbia University Press. Jacobs, Melville. 1937. Northwest Sahaptin texts (Indian Text). Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology, v. 19, prt 2. New York: Columbia University Press. Jacobsen, William. 1968. On the prehistory of Nez Perce vowel harmony. Language 44(4). 819–829. Jansen, Joana. 2010. A Grammar of Yakima Ichishkíin /Sahaptin. Eugene, OR: University of Oregon dissertation. Jansen, Joana. 2012. Ditransitive alignment in Yakima Sahaptin. Linguistic Discovery 10. 37–54. Jansen, Joana & Virginia Beavert. 2010. Combining the goals of language documentation and language teaching: A Yakima Sahaptin case study. In Susana Rivera-Mills & Juan Castillo (eds.), Building Communities Making Connections, 62–80. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Jansen, Joana & Virginia Beavert. 2011. Yakima Sahaptin bipartite verb stems. International Journal of American Linguistics 77. 121–49.

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Jansen, Joana, Valerie Switzler & Janne Underriner. Language revitalization and vitality: Schools and communities working together. In Stephany RunningHawk Johnson & Michelle M. Jacob (eds.), On Indian ground: The Northwest, 245–263. Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing. Jansen, Joana, Janne Underriner & Roger Jacob. 2013. Revitalizing languages through place-based language curriculum. In Elena Mihas, Bernard Perley, Gabriel Rei-Doval, Kathleen Wheatley (eds.), Language death, endangerment, documentation, and revitalization, 221–242. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Kinkade, M. Dale. 1989. When patients are topics: Topic maintenance in North American Indian Languages. International Conference on Salish and Neighboring Languages 24. 1–41. Kinkade, M. Dale. 1990. Sorting out third persons in Salishan discourse. International Journal of American Linguistics 56. 341–60. Kinkade, M. Dale. 1995. Transmontane lexical borrowing in Salish. International Conference on Salish and Neighboring Languages 30. 27–46. Mithun, Marianne. 1999. The languages of Native North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Morvillo, Anthony. 1891. Grammatica Linguae Numipu. A Numipu or Nez-Perce Grammar, by a missionary of the Society of Jesus in the Rocky Mountains. Desmet, Idaho: Indian Boys’ Press. Morvillo, Anthony. 1895. A dictionary of the Numípu or Nez Perce language. St. Ignatius Mission Print. Moses, Agnes, Sam Watters, Harry Wheeler, Ida James Wheeler, Elisabeth P. Wilson & Haruo Aoki. 2014. Haruo Aoki Papers on the Nez Perce language, SCL 2014–12, Survey of California and Other Indian Languages, University of California, Berkeley, http://dx.doi.org/doi:10.7297/X2JS9NMS. Nez Perce Tribe. n.d. Tim’néepe: Heart of the Monster [video]. https://www.nimipuutimt.org/ niimiacuteipuum-titwaacuteatit---the-peoples-stories.html (accessed 16 May 2022). Pandosy, Marie-Charles. 1862. Grammar and dictionary of the Yakama language. New York: Craimosy Press. Pharris, Nicholas & Thomason, Sarah. 2005. Lexical transfer between Southern Interior Salish and Molalla-Sahaptian. International Conference on Salish and Neighboring Languages 40. 184–210. Phinney, Archie. 1934. Nez Percé texts. Reprint: New York: AMS Press, 1969. Piatote, Beth. 2019. The Beadworkers. Berkeley, CA: Counterpoint. Rigsby, Bruce. 1965a. Linguistic relations in the southern plateau. Eugene, OR: University of Oregon dissertation. Rigsby, Bruce. 1965b. Continuity and change in Sahaptian vowel systems. International Journal of American Linguistics 31(4). 306–311. Rigsby, Bruce. 1978. Coyote and the dogs (Sahaptin). In William Bright (ed.), Coyote stories, 21–25. International Journal of American Linguistics Native American Texts Series No. 1. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Rigsby, Bruce. 2009. The Origin and history of the name Yakama / Yakima. Introduction to the Ichishkiin Sinwit Yakama/Yakima Sahaptin dictionary, by Virginia Beavert and Sharon Hargus, xxii-xxxiv. Toppenish, & Seattle WA: Heritage University and University of Washington Press. Rigsby, Bruce & Noel Rude. 1996. Sketch of Sahaptin, a Sahaptian language. In Ives Goddard & William C. Sturtevant (eds.), Handbook of North American Indians. Volume 17: Languages, 666–92. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution. Rigsby, Bruce & Michael Silverstein. 1969. Nez Perce vowels and proto-Sahaptian vowel harmony. Language 45(1). 45–59. Rude, Noel. 1985. Studies in Nez Perce grammar and discourse. Eugene, OR: University of Oregon dissertation. Rude, Noel. 1988. Pronominal prefixes in Klikitat Sahaptin. In Scott DeLancey (ed.), Papers from the 1988 Hokan-Penutian Languages Workshop, 181–197. Eugene, OR: University of Oregon Papers in Linguistics. Rude, Noel. 1991. On the Origin of the Nez Perce ergative NP suffix. International Journal of American Linguistics 57. 24–50. Rude, Noel. 1992a. Dative shifting in Sahaptin. International Journal of American Linguistics 58. 31–321. Rude, Noel. 1992b. Word order and topicality in Nez Perce. In Doris Payne (ed.), Pragmatics of Word Order Flexibility, 193–208. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.

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Rude, Noel. 1994. Direct, inverse and passive in Northwest Sahaptin. In Talmy Givón (ed.), Voice and Inversion, 101–119. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Rude, Noel. 1996. The Sahaptian inflectional suffix complex. In Leanne Hinton & Victor Golla (eds.), Proceedings of the Hokan-Penutian Workshop: July 8–9, 1994, University of Oregon, Eugene, and July 5–6, 1995, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, 51–89. Survey of California and Other Indian Languages 9. Berkeley: University of California, Department of Linguistics. Rude, Noel. 1997a. Dative shifting and double objects in Sahaptin. In Talmy Givón (ed.), Grammatical Relations: A Functionalist Perspective, 323–349. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Rude, Noel. 1997b. On the history of nominal case in Sahaptian. International Journal of American Linguistics 63. 113–143. Rude, Noel. 1999. External possession in Sahaptian. In Doris Payne (ed.), Pragmatics of Word Order Flexibility, 193–208. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Rude, Noel. 2009. Transitivity in Northwest Sahaptin. Journal of Northwest Linguistics 3(3). 1–37. http://www. sfu.ca/nwjl/Articles/V003_N03/RudeTransitivityInSahaptin.pdf (accessed 27 December 2009). Ruef, Jennifer, Michelle M. Jacob, Stephany RunningHawk Johnson, Joana Jansen & Virginia Beavert. 2019. Why STEM needs indigenous traditional ecological knowledge: A case study of Ichishkíin math. International Journal of Gender, Science and Technology 11(3). 429–439. Ruef, Jennifer, Michelle M. Jacob, Keith Walker & Virginia Beavert. 2020. Why Indigenous languages matter for mathematics education: A case study of Ichishkíin. Educational Studies in Mathematics 104. 313–332. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10649-020-09957-0 (accessed 16 August 2020). St. Onge, Louis Napoleón. 1872. Alphabet Yakima, contenant les prières, les cantiques at la catechism dans la même language. Montreal: Imprimé a la Providence. Underriner, Janne & Joana Jansen. 2018. The Role of institutions of higher education in teaching Indigenous languages: Ichishkíin and Chinuk Wawa. Language & Linguistics Compass 12(9). https://doi.org/10.1111/ lnc3.12276 (accessed 5 May 2018). Van Lier, Eva, Alena Witzlack-Makarevich & Joana Jansen. 2016. Referential and lexical factors in ditransitive alignment variation. Linguistics 54(3). 563–616. Velten, Harry. 1943. The Nez Perce verb. Pacific Northwest Quarterly 34. 271–292. Weeks, Thelma. 1973. A note on Sahaptin baby talk. Papers and Reports in Child Language Development 5. 65–67. Woody, Elizabeth. 1993. By our hand, through the memory, the house is more than form. In John Gattuso (ed.), A Circle of Nations: Voices and Visions of American Indians, 82–90. Hillsboro, OR: Beyond Words Publishing. Woolford, Ellen. 1997. Four-way case systems: Ergative, nominative, objective and accusative. Natural Language & Linguistic Theory 15. 181–227. Zúñiga, Fernando. 2006. Deixis and alignment: Inverse systems in Indigenous languages of the Americas. (Typological Studies in Language 70). Amsterdam: John Benjamins.

Andrew Garrett, Susan Gehr, Erik Hans Maier, Line Mikkelsen, Crystal Richardson, and Clare S. Sandy

47 Karuk “The Karuk language is a canoe. It holds all of our baskets, our regalia, our materials, our food. The canoe holds all our practices, songs, and stories. It holds all our people and all the Karuk people yet to be born. The canoe carries us all; without it, we can’t get anywhere.” – Charlie Thom, Sr., 2012 (Richardson 2018)

Abstract: Karuk is an isolate language of northern California with a rich history of academic and locally-based documentation for over 100 years and an active community of learners, teachers, and speakers today. In this chapter, we provide an overview of the language’s history, social contexts, and grammatical patterns through present-day language use and language reclamation. After an introduction to the language’s sociocultural and linguistic setting, we offer a grammatical profile of this polysynthetic, highly agglutinating language, whose phonological patterns cause extensive fusion at morpheme boundaries. Among other features of typological interest, we discuss the Karuk pitch-accent system, its elaborate system of directional suffixes, multiple pluractional categories, the absence of a copula, and pragmatically determined word order. We conclude with a history of documentation and revitalization work in the Karuk community.

47.1 Context 47.1.1 Sociocultural setting Since time immemorial the Karuk people have lived in northern California along almost 100 miles of the Klamath River (Figure 1), from below Panámnik (present-day Orleans) to above Athithúfvuunupma (Happy Camp). Today, they also occupy a diaspora in California and around the world. Their language is araráhih ‘the people’s language’. To the west of Karuk land, downriver along the Klamath and on the Pacific coast north of the Klamath mouth, Tolowa (Dene) and Yurok (Algic) are spoken; Shasta and Konomihu were spoken to the east, Hupa (Dene) along the Trinity River south of Weitchpec. The Karuk words káruk and yúruk mean ‘upriver’ and ‘downriver’; the káruk va’áraaras are the ‘upriver people’.1 1 Traditionally, káruk va’áraaras designated anyone from upriver of a reference point or person speaking (Kroeber and Gifford 1980:96). According to Phoebe Maddux (Harrington 1932a:2), ithivthanéen’aachip va’áraar ‘middle of the world person’ was a traditional way of referring to the people who are now called Karuk. The spelling “Karok” in older sources was based on a misunderstanding. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-047

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Fig. 1: Karuk territory (cartography by Jackie Honig Bjorkman, p. 85 of Victor Golla, California Indian Languages, © 2011 by the Regents of the University of California, published by the University of California Press).

Before 1849, Karuk people lived in villages along the Klamath and its tributaries. The water and land were rich with resources that people used and managed with care. Tobacco was cultivated and of great cultural importance; redwood, dentalium (shell money), and obsidian (used ceremonially) were obtained by trade. Such interactions also involved the exchange of songs, stories, and other cultural practices, to such an extent that Hupa, Karuk, and Yurok people are widely known for “speaking diverse

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languages but following the same remarkable civilization” (Kroeber 1925:1).2 The landscape itself is rich in sacred sites, and places associated with creation stories and spiritual life. People care for the health of the land and one another through ceremonies, basketry, ecologically responsible hunting and fishing, and other cultural practices. “The Karuk are fix-the-world people”, in the words of Karuk anthropologist Carolyn Smith (2016:40). “They live, take care of, and fix the world.” The American invasion of Karuk land began in 1849. Supported by government militias and funding, outsiders poured into northern California in search of gold and other natural resources. Invaders massacred, raped, and enslaved Indigenous people, burned villages, damaged sacred sites, and scarred the land; atrocities, disease, and cultural destruction were everywhere (Norton 1979, Lindsay 2012, Madley 2016). The colonial government forced Indians into the wage economy, disrupting ways of life. A rich educational system was shattered when children were separated from families and put in schools that forbade Native languages and cultural practices.3 Ceremonies were banned; other 19th and 20th century government policies were meant to eliminate Indigenous cultures, compel assimilation to Euro-American cultural norms, and bring about “linguistic genocide” (Skutnabb-Kangas 2000). Nobody could avoid the impact of the invasion. Faced with incomprehensible damage, some understandably fled or hid their identities. But Karuk people maintained and transmitted their cultural knowledge and practices. In 1849 there were perhaps about 2,700 Karuk people (Cook 1956:98); today, the Karuk Tribe has nearly 4,000 enrolled members. They continue to fix the world through basketry, ceremonies, managing natural resources, singing songs, telling stories, and teaching, learning, and using the Karuk language.

47.1.2 Linguistic setting Linguists have identified several areal or genealogical groups to which Indigenous California languages belong. Karuk has been classified as “Hokan”, meaning that it belongs to an early linguistic group in California with similarities that reflect either ancient language contact or a very remote genealogical relationship (Dagostino, this volume). Other languages of northern California that are usually classified as “Hokan” include Chimariko, Yana, the Palaihnihan languages, and Karuk’s neighbors in the Shastan family (Konomihu, New River Shasta, and Shasta). A typical “Hokan” feature is the presence of “instrumental prefixes”; in Karuk (Bright 1957:86–87, Haas 1980, Macaulay 1993),

2 For more information on Karuk culture see Bright (1978), Lang (1994, 2012), and Smith (2016). 3 A Karuk elder interviewed in 2004 (Richardson 2018) remembered his first day in the boarding school (in a former military fort) to which he had been forcibly removed from his blind grandmother: his hair was cut; his clothes were taken; and he was repeatedly punished for speaking Karuk.

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these are unproductive root-initial elements, such as pa- ‘with the mouth’ (páchup ‘kiss’, páputh ‘chew’). Throughout California, Indigenous communities were multilingual before the use of European languages was enforced. Depending on their circumstances, Karuk people often spoke one or more of the neighboring languages: Yurok, Hupa, Tolowa, or the Shastan languages. In 1901, for example, Karuk elder Martha Horne shared Karuk, Shasta, and Tolowa words and sentences with an outside researcher (Kroeber 1869– 1972: notebook 10, carton 12:11). Multilingualism and cultural interactions naturally led to linguistic contact effects, especially involving Hupa, Karuk, and Yurok. These three languages show numerous indications of “functional convergence” (Conathan 2004), i.  e., mutual adaptation, especially in pragmatically salient aspects of language; see also O’Neill (2006, 2008). This includes calquing of place names, environmental vocabulary, and other constructions; for example, in Karuk and Yurok, you call a rattlesnake “aunt” in speaking directly to it (Karuk chuxáchvaas ‘deceased mother’s sister’). Between these two languages, there are also enough similarities in morphosyntax, syntax, and semantics (Bright and Bright 1965) that we may consider the possibility of language shift, perhaps as the Algic language Yurok entered the Klamath River basin. For example, Yurok innovated two pluractional categories whose functions closely match those of their Karuk counterparts (§ 2.2.3 below).4 Traditionally, Karuk men and adolescent boys lived together in the ikmaháchraam ‘sweathouse’, while women, girls, and young boys lived in the ikrívraam ‘living house’. Each was a site of traditional education, including language pedagogy. For example, according to Phoebe Maddux, pikvah (creation stories about the time before human beings came into the world) were “told only in wintertime, at night, both in the sweathouse and in the living house” (Harrington1932a:8). The Karuk discursive world fits its environment. One notable example involves spatial reference. Like other languages of Pacific coast river basins, Karuk routinely uses terms meaning ‘upriver’, ‘downriver’, ‘uphill’, ‘downhill’, and ‘across’ in contexts where English would use relative expressions like behind you or to your left (Levinson 1996). A nearby object is conventionally identified as in (1), with sâam ‘a little downhill’.5 (1)        

Sâam utháaniv pamí’aama. sâam u-tháaniṽ pa=mi-’áama a.little.downhill 3sg-lie the=2sg.poss-salmon ‘Your salmon is (lit., lying) just downhill.’ (Lottie Beck, 1949–50, KL-18)

4 On some linguistic effects of more recent contact with English see Bright (1952). 5 Abbreviations used in glossing and text citation are explained in an appendix.

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Living in the steep Klamath River basin, it is impossible to be unaware of the river’s location and course.

47.2 Grammatical profile Karuk is a polysynthetic, highly agglutinating language whose phonological patterns (especially the vowel coalescence described in § 2.1.1) cause extensive fusion at morpheme boundaries and, therefore, opaque morphological combinations in many instances. Phonology and phonetics are discussed in § 2.1; morphology and morphosyntax in § 2.2; and syntax and discourse in § 2.3. The grammar by Bright (1957) is largely concerned with phonology and morphology; for overviews see also Golla (2011:84–87) and Sandy (2017:14–47).

47.2.1 Phonology and phonetics 47.2.1.1 Phoneme inventory and phonetics Karuk has the small vowel inventory and moderately small consonant inventory in (2). Acute (ú) and circumflex (ôo) marks on vowels indicate contrastive accent (§ 2.1.3). Underlyingly vowel-initial words begin with a surface glottal stop, so all syllables surface with onsets (initial consonants). Complex onsets (those with more than one consonant) do not occur underlyingly, but sometimes occur in speech due to word-initial vowel deletion. (2)        

Consonants Plosives p  Fricatives f  Nasals m  Other v [ʋ ~ β]

͡ t    ch [tʃ] th [θ] s [ʂ] sh [ʃ] n      r [ɾ]   y [j]

k  x     

Vowels (short and long) ’ [ʔ] High i, ii [iː] u, uu [uː] h  Mid ee [eː] oo [oː]   Low   a, aa [aː]        

Several details are of interest in (2). One is the asymmetric vowel system, with three short and five long vowels; ee and oo result from coalescence of a + a high vowel. A second is the limited distribution of some phonemes. For example, sh is largely the result of s palatalization (after front vowels and y), but it is also found in a few loanwords. A third detail is the presence of a fricative th, which is typologically unusual (Mithun 1999:16–17, Moran and McCloy 2019). Today this is [θ], but at an earlier time it was a “blade-dental slit-spirant” (Bright 1957:8), i.  e., a laminal dental sound like [s̪ ]. All 19th-century transcriptions wrote “s”, and many 20th-century speakers used the earlier sound (Conathan 2006:225–227). The shift to [θ] may reflect English influence.

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Phonetic processes include the lengthening of nasals and oral stops and fricatives in several contexts, such as adjacent to a long accented vowel: akâay [ʔakːâːj] ‘who?’, ͡ ‘deer’ (with lengthened k and f). According to Bright (1957:9), some púufich [púːfːitʃ] words have even longer contrastively lengthened consonants: ákah [ʔákkah] ‘father’ (vs. tákus ‘pelican’ with short [k]). A three-way surface consonant length distinction is not common in the world’s languages (Ladefoged & Maddieson 1996:93). A second phonetic process is final-syllable devoicing. As described by Bright (1957:13), this affects unaccented prepausal syllables with short vowels: nímuustih ‘I am looking at it’ (with a devoiced vowel in the last syllable). The durative suffix ‑tih is an especially common target; because devoiced syllables can be hard to hear, the vowel lengthening that ‑tih sometimes triggers on a preceeding syllable (imus ‘look at’ → nímuustih) is in practice often the cue for that suffix. A third phonetic process is reduction or deletion of initial short vowels; words like akvaat ‘raccoon’ and ikrívraam ‘living house’ may be heard with initial k. And a final process of interest is perseveratory high-vowel coarticulation: unaccented short initial-syllable i and u are sometimes partially or entirely realized as off-glides on a following consonant. This is especially likely if the following vowel is accented. Details vary: different speakers have had this pattern across different consonants; some lack it altogether. The examples in (3) are transcribed from the speech of Vina Smith (in 2010 and 2012). (3)  

a. b.

 

c.

͡ (with reduced [u]) puxích ‘very (much)’ → [puxwítʃ] ͡ púufich ‘deer’ + ’íish ‘meat’ → pufích’iish [pufwítʃʔi:ʃ] ‘deermeat’ (with reduced [u]) vika ‘weaving work’ + yav ‘good’ → vikáyav [ʋikjájaʋ] ‘good weaving’

All three phonetic processes affect the perceived rhythm of Karuk speech and are thus quite conspicuous.

47.2.1.2 Morphophonemics Karuk has a rich portfolio of morphologically conditioned alternations in phonology. We can only mention a few here. One is a sound-symbolic process in which a diminutive suffix like ‑ich induces the changes r → n and th → ch throughout its base: ithárip ‘fir tree’ → ichánipich ‘small fir’, yupthúkirar ‘mountain lion’ → yupchúkinanich (familiar term, in a pikvah). A second is glide deletion. As shown in (4), morpheme-final y is lost between short vowels; resulting vowel sequences contract. (4)  

a. b.

ni- ‘1sg>3’ + ’ay “be afraid of’ + ‑at ‘pst’ → ni’âat ‘I was afraid of (something)’ iyvay- ‘pour’ + ‑ishrih “down” → iyvêeshrih ‘spill’

A third aspect of Karuk morphophonemics is the existence of two kinds of v, represented by Bright (1957) as v and ṽ. The properties in (5) distinguish them.

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a.     b.

         

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Plain v (but not ṽ) also undergoes the glide deletion process in (4): kun-vathiv-anik (3pl-fight-anc) → kunvátheenik ‘they had a fight’ u-thitiṽ-anik (3sg-hear-anc) → uthitívanik ‘s/he heard’ Plain v (but not ṽ) undergoes deletion (with compensatory lengthening) between a non-high non-front vowel (i.  e., a(a) or oo) and a consonant: ’aṽ-raam (eat-place) → amnaam ‘hotel’ ikyav-raam (make-place) → ikyáaraam ‘factory’ Nasalizing ṽ (but not v) surfaces as m before consonants: u-vathiv-tih (3sg-fight-dur) → uvathíivtih ‘s/he is fighting’ u-thitiṽ-tih (3sg-hear-dur) → uthítiimtih ‘s/he is hearing’

Nasalizing ṽ only occurs morpheme-finally (and mainly in verb stems); only a few verbs have non-alternating m in this position.6

47.2.1.3 Prosodic phonology Word-level prosody in Karuk can be described as “pitch accent”: the prosodic system uses both tone and stress, but tone has an impoverished distribution (Sandy & Mikkelsen 2015, Sandy 2017). The basic pattern is that each phonological word has one accent, namely, a high (H) tone that coincides with stress and is followed by a low (L) tone. The drop from H to L can be across syllable boundaries, or a HL contour on a long vowel. Possible accents are exemplified in (6): HL and H on long vowels, and only H on short vowels. (6)    

a. b. c.

HL on a long vowel: tîim ‘edge’, pûuvish ‘bag’, uvâaram ‘s/he left’ H on a long vowel: páah ‘boat’, púufich ‘deer’, umáahtih ‘s/he saw him’ H on a short vowel: áhup ‘wood’, kúkuum ‘again’, kunímnish ‘they cook’

The whole word is typically characterized by an H span followed by an L span, the drop coinciding with the pitch accent, though the entire pattern may not be realized on very short words and may be affected by phrasal boundary tones. Stress coincides with the syllable containing the H-tone-bearing mora (at the right edge of the H span), if present, thus marking the surface contrastive tone in the word. Words may be lexically accented or unaccented. Unaccented words (ishpuk ‘money’, paah ‘peppernut’) surface with a final H tone, except at the right edge of an utterance, where they are toneless. In the absence of a surface H tone, stress falls on a long vowel or the final syllable. Overall, the Karuk prosodic system resembles the systems of other “pitch accent” languages, especially phonetically, but with important differences. Any syllable in the word can bear prominence, but its location in a given word is largely phonologically determined, based on typologically unusual alignments of tone and syllable structure 6 See Levi (2008) for an analysis; see Sandy (2017:27–28) on Bright’s (1957:39–40) two kinds of r.

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(cf. Hayes 1995). These include a basic H-before-long-vowel alignment, Bright’s (1957) “recessive accentuation”; a protected HL alignment that blocks the basic alignment; and a dispreference for aligning H on a short closed syllable. The basic or “recessive” pattern is illustrated in (7). (7)

a.

 

b.

na- ‘1sg’ + ’áathvu ‘be afraid’ + -at ‘pst’ → ná’aathvat ‘I was afraid’ (Mamie Offield, 1949–50, KL 64) kun- ‘3pl>3’ + sar- ‘carry things’ + ‑piithvu ‘around pl.act’ + ‑tih ‘dur’ + ‑anik ‘anc’ → kunsánpiithvutihanik ‘they had been carrying them around long ago’ (Phoebe Maddux, 1926–33, TK 65)

Accent patterns are nonetheless not fully predictable on phonological grounds; a full explanation requires morphological information. For example, derivational suffixes place a H tone on the final syllable of the stem they attach to, as shown by the verb forms with u- ‘3sg’ in (8). If the resulting accentuation falls into the protected HL alignment, as in (8a), the intermediate accentuation is retained on the surface, even if the result contradicts the basic alignment in (7). However, if the stem-final H tone falls on a short vowel in a closed syllable (a dispreferred alignment), the vowel is lengthened, as in (8b). In these cases, the derived length is retained and the basic alignment applies at the surface. (8)

a.

 

b.

ikyiṽ ‘fall’ + ‑uraa ‘up’ → ikyívuraa → ukyívuraa ‘he was thrown into the air’ (Daisy Jones, 1949–50, KL-20) ikyiṽ ‘fall’ + ‑kurih ‘into (water)’ → ikyíimkurih → úkyiimkurih ‘she fell in’ (Julia Starritt, 1949–50, KL-32)

Karuk prosodic domains include the accentual phrase (AP) and intonational phrase (IP). The AP is marked by a left-edge boundary tone, which links to a single mora that does not bear H tone, resulting in a L tone on any unaccented short vowel at the left edge of a word. This L cannot surface on an initial unaccented long vowel, due to a prohibition on LH contours. A default phrasal boundary tone occurs at the right edge of an otherwise unaccented AP. The AP ordinarily coincides with the word, but there are instances of mismatches between the AP and the word. For example, as illustrated in (9), the Perfective ta- forms a single morphosyntactic word with its host; but it bears lexical accent and can form its own AP in some phonological circumstances, and joins with the stem AP in others. (9)  

a. b.

One AP: ta- + u- ‘3sg’ + vâaramu ‘go (there)’ → tuvâaram ‘s/he went (there)’ Two APs: ta- + u- ‘3sg’ + ipvâaramu ‘go back’ → tóopvâaram ‘s/he went back’

The IP is characterized by a right-edge boundary tone, which is also associated with glottalization and devoicing. IP-final boundary L overrides AP-final tones, resulting in a final L on a short vowel or HL contour on a long vowel bearing a H tone. Devoicing can spread to unfooted syllables at the right edge of the word, as noted in § 2.1.1 above.

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47.2.1.4 Orthography Outside researchers have employed a variety of phonetic transcription systems; for use in the community two main systems have been used. The first was Unifon, a mid-20thcentury quasi-phonetic alphabet adapted in the 1970s for several languages of northwestern California (Hinton 2001:244–245). This was used locally for two decades, but it lost support because it was inconvenient to type and in practice not all phonological contrasts were expressed. Today, the Roman alphabet is used for Karuk. As written in (2) it is mostly phonemic, and intuitively represents vowel length; but there are potential sources of confusion. First, because consonant gemination (doubling) is not written, learners may ignore it if they hear it; and not all gemination is phonologically predictable. Second, because the digraphs sh and th are used for [ʃ] and [θ], respectively, the sequences s + h and t + h must be spelled differently; a hyphen is used (s-h, t-h), but this is easy to neglect. Finally, because the distinction between words that begin with underlying vowels (and automatic glottal stops) and underlying glottal stops is not represented, it may be hard for learners to know which words have which. The difference is significant: underlyingly initial vowels are deleted in certain contexts, while vowels “protected” by an underlyingly initial glottal stop are not.

47.2.2 Morphology and morphosyntax Karuk word classes include nouns, verbs, adverbs, particles, postpositions, interjections, and adjectives.7 Some of the most complex and interesting aspects of Karuk word structure arise in the verb. The remainder of this section will address some of these. Note that the names of Karuk grammatical categories (like “Future”) are capitalized to avoid the implication that these are semantic designations.

47.2.2.1 Verbal structure The Karuk verb is often analyzed in terms of position classes. Bright (1957) assigns 75 verbal suffixes to a dozen position classes, also identifying several prefix positions; Sandy (2017:22) describes the two prefixal and four suffixal categories shown in Table 1.

7 Adjectives can be identified based on several diagnostics; for example, any adjective (but only nouns denoting persons) can take the plural suffix ‑sa. Some common adjectives are nearly always compounded with nouns: (áhkaam ‘a big fire’, amvákaam ‘a big salmon’; ipahá’anamahach ‘a small tree’, pufích’anamahach ‘a little deer’), which may give the misleading impression that adjectives are marginal.

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Tab. 1: Karuk verb template, with numbers of suffixes belonging to various groups (Sandy 2017:22) Inflectional prefixes

Derivational prefixes

Root and inner suffixes

Derivational suffixes

Semi-derivational suffixes

Inflectional ­suffixes

Person / ­number ­marking (13)

Iterative; Mode; ­Plurality

Reduplication; Direction / manner / result state (9)

Direction (41); Manner / motion (7); valence (4)

Plurality; Durative; Diminutive

Tense / aspect / modality (7); Optative; Inverse; Negative

Some of the system is clearly semantically based rather than arbitrary (cf. Rice 2011). For example, Bright assigns causative ‑math and directional ‑ishrih ‘down’ (which also expresses resultative aspect) to two suffix classes, but they are found in both orders (10a-b). (10)  

a. b.

[ ishkax ‘be quiet’ + ‑ishrih ] + ‑math → ishkáxishrihmath ‘stop (someone)’ [ ’ásiṽ ‘sleep’ + ‑math ] + ‑ishrih → ’asimáchishrih ‘put to sleep’

The pluractional suffix ‑va (§ 2.2.3), which also has variable placement depending on its scope, can even occur between suffixes of the same class. The root ikréemyah ‘blow’ can be combined with the directional suffix ‑vara ‘in through’ and Plural Action -va to yield ikreemyahváraa, with a specialized meaning ‘play music (of any kind)’. From this can be derived a word like ukreemyahváraathunatih ‘he is going around playing music’ (JPH-10:665), with u- ‘3sg’, a second directional suffix ‑thuna ‘here and there’, and Durative ‑tih. The Karuk verbal agreement system has been analyzed by several researchers. Of special interest has been a pattern whereby agreement is usually controlled by the subject (nímuustih ‘I’m looking at it’, ímuustih ‘you’re looking at it’, úmuustih ‘s/he’s looking at it’), but sometimes by the object. For example, in the positive paradigm, the same prefix is used for all forms with 1pl objects (kinímuustih ‘you, s/he, they look at us’, kin’ípeentihat ‘you, s/he, they used to tell us’); another prefix is used for forms with 2pl objects, together with a suffix ‑ap (kíikmahap ‘I, we, you, s/he, they see you’). Macaulay (1992) treats the pattern as an inverse system with a hierarchy 2pl > 1 > 2sg > 3 and an inverse marker ‑ap used if a verb’s object outranks its subject. Campbell (2012:135– 48) generally supports her analysis (contra Béjar 2003:159–162), also adding a precise account of mismatches between object agreement control and the distribution of ‑ap.

47.2.2.2 Directionals Among the derivational suffixes in Table 1 are several dozen directionals, expressing either the path, or the path and ground (Talmy 1985), of a motion or fictive-motion event (Talmy 1999). They include ‑iroopith ‘around’, ‑sipriv ‘up’ (both expressing path only,

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in their purely directional uses), ‑furuk ‘into an enclosure’, ‑roovu ‘upriverward from here’, ‑vara ‘in through a tubular space’, and ‑vrath ‘into a sweathouse’ (all expressing path and ground). Macaulay (2004) argues that these directionals, except for a few that express only a path, are “applicatives” in the sense that they license additional (overt or understood) verbal arguments. This is shown in (11): without a directional suffix, the verb in (11a) denotes an activity with no path; in (11b), with the suffix ‑furuk, a path is expressed. (11)                  

a.         b.        

Chími nukôohi panuhmáratih. chími nu-kôohi-i pa=nu-ihmára-tih soon 1pl-stop-impv comp=1pl-run-dur ‘Let’s stop running.’ (KV) Kári xás kunpihmárafuruk iinâak. kári xás kun-p-ihmára-furuk then and 3pl-iter-run-into.an.enclosure ‘Then they ran back indoors.’ (Nettie Ruben, 1949–50, KL-11)

iinâak indoors

The examples in (12) show how the interpretation of locational expressions can depend on a directional suffix (Garrett & Mikkelsen 2015). In (12a), with no directional, úuth ‘out in the water’ denotes the event location; in (12b), with the same verb root and a directional, kaanvári ‘around there’ denotes the path, as does úuth with a directional in (12c). It is common, as in (12c), that a complement licensed by a directional suffix specifies its reference; similarly ‑roov(u) ‘upriverward (from the deictic center)’ licenses more specific path terms such as kâam ‘a little upriver’. (12)      

a.    

       

b.    

       

c.      

Káru pápaa úuth uthívruuhtih. káru pa=paah úuth u-thivruh-tih also the=boat out.in.water 3sg-float-dur ‘The boat too is floating out in the water.’ (Julia Starritt, 1949–50, KL-92) Chavúra kaanvári uthívruuhma. chavúra kaanvári u-thivruh-mu at.last around.there 3sg-float-towards ‘Eventually he floated to that vicinity.’ (Chester Pepper, 1949–50, KL-03) Xás kúkuum úuth upáathkar. xas kúkuum úuth u-path-kara and again out.in.water 3sg>3-throw-into.water ‘And again he threw it out into the river.’ (Nettie Ruben, 1949–50, KL-41)

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Maier (2016) describes a three-way distinction in motion verb roots: roots like arih‘move’ that must combine with directionals; roots like path ‘throw’ and thivruh ‘float’ that may do so; and (“telic”) roots like ipak ‘return’ that cannot do so.

47.2.2.3 Tense and aspect Tense and aspect categories are mainly expressed by verbal affixes. Here we identify a few features of the system. One is that past-time reference is often found without overt temporal marking, as in (13), in a pikvah recounting Coyote’s journey. (13)      

Kári xás uvâaram. Xás … u’árihroov. kári xás u-vâaramu xás … u-’árih-roov then and 3sg-go and 3sg-move-upriver ‘Then he left. And he went upriver.’ (Chester Pepper, 1949–50, KL-3)

For past-time reference Karuk also encodes degrees of remoteness (cf. Botne 2012), including Past ‑at (14) and Ancient ‑anik (5a) as well as Anterior ‑aheen (27c). The suffix ‑at, called a “marker of past time” by Bright (1957:67), can be used to establish past-time reference (often with an adverbial), as in (14a), but examples like (14b) show that it is more precisely a relative tense marker (restricted to past time). The main clause in (14b) has no overt tense marking and is understood as having past-time reference (‘she ran’). The relative clause with ‑at denotes an event prior to that past time. (14)      

a.      

     

b.    

Papishyavpîish mit ni’ákunvarat. pa=pishyavpîish mit ni-’ákunvu-ar-at the=autumn pst 1sg-hunt-go-pst ‘Last fall I went on a hunting trip.’ (Benonie Harrie, 1927, DAF_KT-5c) Váa kúuk ukvíripma pa’ípa unhíshriihvat pa’áthiith. u-ikvírip-mu pa=’ípa u-inhi-ishrih-vu-at váa kúuk pro to.there 3sg-run-to comp=pst 3sg-tie-down-pl.act-pst pa=’áthiith the=hazel.withe ‘She ran there where she had tied the hazel branches.’ (Mamie Offield, 1949–50, KL-64)

Unpublished work by Kayla Begay has shown that the Future, in its temporal interpretation, is also a relative tense or prospective aspect. As (15) shows, it is not restricted to future time. (In addition, not shown here, it also sometimes has modal readings.)

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Káruma vaa íp uvúpareeshat pamúspuk. káruma váa íp u-vup-ar-eesh-at pa=mu-ishpuk in.fact pro pst 3sg>3-string.beads-instr-fut-pst the=3sg.poss-money ‘He was actually going to string his dentalium money with it.’ (Julia Starritt, 1949–50, KL-4)

Two pluractional constructions express event-external (including multiple-occasion) repetition and event-internal repetition, respectively. The first involves the Plural Action suffix ‑vu in (16), expressing distributed or repeated action (here, multiple drops of water). (16)      

Xás pa’íshaha tu’irihshúroo tik’ípanich. xas pa=íshaha ta-u-’írih-suru-va tíik-’ípan-ich and the=water perf-3sg-drip-off.of-pl.act hand-end-dim (Describing a picture:) ‘The water is dripping off of the fingertips.’ (Julia Starritt, 1949–50, KL-92)

This suffix enjoys variable positioning, with different interpretations. Attached to a root, it can modify its lexical meaning: mah ‘see’ → máahva ‘visit’. Attached to a derived stem, it adds a multiple-action interpretation: íhuk ‘do a flower dance’ → íhukar ‘go flower dancing’ → íhukanva ‘(multiple dancers) go flower dancing’; compare íhukanva (“go” + pl.act) and máahvar ‘go visiting’ (pl.act. + “go”), with the order of two suffixes reversed. The Plural Action suffix ‑vu can even be positioned variably in relation to the Durative suffix ‑tih; compare the order ‑vu-tih in (28) with the reverse order in uthivrúhtiihva ‘clouds are floating’ (u-thivruh-tih-vu 3sg-float-dur-pl.act). Event-internal pluractionality is marked by verbal reduplication (Macaulay 1993, Conathan & Wood 2003). With semelfactive (instantaneous non-transitional) verbs and some stative verbs, reduplication indicates rapid iteration of an action as part of a single event: imyah ‘breathe’ → imyahyah ‘pant’. Compare also the unreduplicated verb form in (17a), denoting a single cut, with the reduplicated form in (17b), whose context makes the repetition clear. (17)      

a.      

       

b.      

Takuníkpaaksur paxavish’ásxaay ishvit. ta-kun-ikpak-suru pa=xávish-’ásxaay ishvita perf-3pl>3-chop-off.of the=mock.orange-damp.wood piece (Making an arrowwood pipe:) ‘They cut a piece off of the green arrowwood.’ (Phoebe Maddux, 1926–33, TK 138) Ipshûunkinachas vúra takunikpákpak. ipshûunkinach-as vúra ta-kun-ikpak short-pl intns perf-3pl>3-chop (Picking tobacco stems:) ‘They cut them into short pieces.’ (Phoebe Maddux, 1926–33, TK 89)

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47.2.3 Syntax and discourse 47.2.3.1 Argument omission and position Davis et al. (2020) observe that “Karuk exhibits the three surface characteristics of a non-configurational language” in the sense of Hale (1983): omission of subjects and objects, splitting of subjects and objects, and free word order. Each of these is constrained in some way. First, omission of subjects and objects is incompatible with certain interpretations, such as additive (“too”, “also”) focus as in (18). (18)        

Context: “And Hookbill said, ‘Humans will eat me first, when I get there’ [=20d]. And Eel said:” Naa káru pishîich ni’ípaktiheesh xátikrupma. náa káru pishîich ni-’ípak-tih-eesh xátikrupma 1sg also first 1sg-return-dur-fut springtime ‘I, too, will return first in the spring.’ (Yaas, 1926–33, JPH_KT-7)

Subject and object splitting too is subject to constraints; not all logically possible split NPs (noun phrases) are documented. For example, splits are not attested for subjects of transitive clauses. Split NPs that include a quantifier as in (19) are especially constrained: the quantifier (koovúra ‘all’, áxak ‘two’) is immediately preverbal; the associated noun is either after (19a) or before (19b) the verb. The common pattern in (19c) differs from (19b) only in that there is no overt material between the quantifier and its (presumably also preposed) associated noun. (19)      

a.      

       

b.      

       

c.      

Xás koovúra upíktit pasárip. xás koovúra u-piktit pa=sárip and all 3sg>3-unravel the=hazel.twigs ‘And she unwove all the sticks.’ (Violet Super, 1989, GD-MD-VSu-1) Káan xás kêechas péeshpuk chavúra áxak nimah. káan xás kêech-as pa=ishpuk chavúra áxak there and big-pl the=money at.last two ‘And there at last I found two big gold nuggets.’ (Benonie Harrie, 1927, DAF_KT-5b) Pa’áptiik koovúra uvrárasur. pa=’áptiik koovúra u-ivrara-suru the=branch all 3sg-fall.pl-off.of ‘The branches all fell off.’ (Daisy Jones, 1949–50, KL-20)

ni-mah 1sg>3-see

As for word order, while clauses with multiple overt (lexical) verbal arguments are not the norm, most permutations of subject (S), object (O), and verb (V) are attested on the

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surface (20a-e). Only the SOV and SVO patterns in (20a-b) seem common; the absence of VSO examples may be an accident. Note that OSV sentences as in (20d) are associated with îin-marked subjects, as in (33) below, and pronominal objects. (20)      

a.      

       

b.      

       

c.      

           

d.          

       

e.      

Puhínupa yaas’ára chishíi chuphûunishtiheeshara. pu=hínupa yaas’ára chishíih chúuphi-ûunish-tih-eesh-ara neg=surprise human dog speak-to-dur-fut-neg ‘A human must never talk to a dog.’ (SOV: Phoebe Maddux, 1926–33, JPH-13:479) Xás paaxíich kuníkshuupkuti pa’ápsuun. xas pa=axíich kun-ikshup-ku-tih pa=’ápsuun and the=child 3pl>3-point-to-dur the=snake (Describing a picture:) ‘And the children are pointing at the snake.’ (SVO: Julia Starritt, 1949–50, KL-92) Ta’ítam kun’ífikaheen paxuntápan pa’asiktávaansa. ta’ítam kun-’ífik-aheen pa=xuntápan pa=’asiktávaan-sa so 3pl>3-pick.up-ant the=acorn the=woman-pl ‘Then the women gathered the acorns.’ (VOS: Mamie Offield, 1949–50, KL-17) Naa vúra pishîich yaas’ára îin ná’aamtiheesh pani’íipmahaak. Naa vúra pishîich yaas’ára îin na-’aṽ-tih-eesh 1sg intns first human obv 3sg>1-eat-dur-fut pa=ni-’íipmu-haak comp=1sg-return-irr ‘Humans will eat me (hookbill salmon) first when I return.’ (OSV: Yaas, 1926–33, JPH_KT-7) Pufíchtaay kuniykáratih itráhyar mutúnviiv. púufich-taay kun-iykára-tih itráhyar mu-túnviiv deer-many 3pl>3-kill-dur ten 3sg.poss-children ‘His ten sons were killing lots of deer.’ (OVS: Chester Pepper, 1949–50, KL-53)

Word order variation is constrained pragmatically; see § 2.3.5.

47.2.3.2 Copular equivalents Karuk lacks an overt copula equivalent to English be. This leads to patterns of at least two distinctive types. First, in clauses of location like (1) and (21a-b), positional verbs are regularly used. This forces a choice among verbs based on conventional postures. For example, people and animals “sit” (21a), trees “stand” (21b, 30a), and objects like dead fish, bags, and rocks “lie” (1). If a figure is described in non-conventional terms, as in (30b), the verb is understood literally.

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a.      

       

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Iinâak pamúkiit úkrii. iinâak pa=mu-kîit u-ikriv inside.house the=3sg.poss-female.grandrelative 3sg-sit ‘His grandmother was (lit., sat) inside.’ (Fritz Hansen, 1926–33, JPH_KT-6) Xás ipahá’anamahach káan u’íihya. xás ípaha-’anamahach káan u-’íihya and tree-small there 3sg-stand (Describing a picture:) ‘And a little tree is (lit., stands) there.’ (Julia Starritt, 1949–50, KL-92)

Second, other “copular clauses” lack verbal predicates altogether. Clausal predicates may belong to any word class, including nouns (22a), pronouns (23c), adjectives (23b), adverbs (22b), and particles (22c). (22)

a.

       

       

       

b.      

       

c.      

Context: “They burned brush on the mountain. Then they came back downhill.” Áraar patúuyship. áraar pa=túuyship person the=mountain ‘The mountain is a person. (It’s a divine person.)’ (Nettie Ruben, 1949–50, KL-83) Yánava vúra pukára káanhara. yánava vúra pu=akára kaan-hara vis intns neg=who there-neg ‘(He saw) there was nobody there.’ (Julia Starritt, 1949–50, KL-8) Uumkun vúra kíchheesh. uumkun vúra kich-heesh pro.pl intns just-fut ‘It will just be them (lit., they will be only).’ (Julia Starritt, 1949–50, KL-89)

In such clauses the pronoun úum is common, without a clear referential function; examples are in (23). Karuk is evidently undergoing a grammaticalization change of the demonstrative > copula type (Li & Thompson 1977, Heine & Kuteva 2002: 108–109); occasionally, as in (23c), this is even extended to non-third-person contexts. The English copula may have reinforced the pattern, but the example in (23a) and several similar examples were recorded in 1889 and probably precede English influence.

Karuk 

(23)      

a.      

       

b.      

       

c.      

Páy uum John muchíshiih. páy úum John mu-chíshiih this pro J. 3sg.poss-dog ‘This is John’s dog.’ (Curtin 1889:209) Kúna chámuxich uum vúra ípihar. kúna chámuxich úum vúra in.addition sucker pro intns ‘But Sucker (the suckerfish) is bony.’ (Mamie Offield, 1949–50, KL-37) Hôoy uum náaheesh? hôoy úum naa-heesh where pro 1sg-fut ‘How about me (lit., where will I be)?’ (1926–33, JPH-11:85)

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’ípih-ara bone-having

47.2.3.3 Interrogative and negative clauses In content questions, wh-expressions (content question words) are usually clause-initial (24a), though occasionally a single constituent precedes a wh-expression (24b). (Some wh-expressions are also used as indefinites.) (24)      

a.      

       

b.      

Hûut áta táná’iin? hûut áta ta-na-’iina how maybe perf-1sg-experience.something.unpleasant ‘What’s wrong with me, I wonder?’ (Nettie Reuben, 1949–50, KL-41) Nanuhrôoha hûut tu’iin? nanu-ihrôoha hûut ta-u-’iina 1pl.poss-wife how perf-3sg-experience.something.unpleasant ‘What’s the matter with our wife?’ (Julia Bennett, 1902, KS-8)

Polarity questions like (25) employ a second-position clitic hum, which is also sentence-final in predicate-only questions like upathríheesh hum? ‘is it going to rain?’ (u-pathrih-eesh 3SG-rain-FUT). (25)      

Íshaha hum téexrah? íshaha hum ta-i-ixrah water q  perf-2sg>3-thirst.for ‘Are you thirsty for water?’ (Charlie Thom, Sr., 2013, CT-1)

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Negation is circumfixal (with markers before and after the predicate), including a verbal suffix and a proclitic that often immediately precedes the predicate (26), but can appear earlier in a clause (20a, 22b). (26)      

Ithéekxaram âanxus pu’ikviit-hára ítha-ikxáram âanxus pu=ikvíit.hi-hara one-night weasel neg=sleep-neg ‘Weasel did not sleep the whole night.’ (Lottie Beck, 1949–50, KL-18)

47.2.3.4 Subordination Subordinate clauses are marked by a conjunction pa= that is identical in form to (and presumably grammaticalized from) the definite article. It is found in adverbial clauses (20d, 27a), conditional clauses (27b), complement clauses (11a), and relative clauses (14b). (27)      

a.      

     

b.    

Kóova tuvíshtar póomuustih. kóova ta-u-víshtar pa=u-imus-tih so perf-3sg>3-like comp=3sg>3-look.at-dur ‘He got so hungry for it as he looked at it.’ (Phoebe Maddux, 1926–33, JPH-KT_5) Áhup mûuk takunitvítship pávaa káan tu’ífahaak. áhup mûuk ta-kun-itvíitship pa=váa kaan stick with perf-3pl>3-knock.off comp=pro there ta-u-’if-ahaak perf-3sg-grow-irr ‘They knock it (tobacco) off with a stick if it grows there (in a graveyard).’ (Phoebe Maddux, 1926–33, TK 79)

Complement clauses as in (11a) are ordinarily postverbal (Davis et al. 2020).8 This can clash with other word-order constraints, such as a requirement that the focus marker kich ‘only’ (which precedes the verb) be adjacent to an overtly realized expression that it is associated with. As Davis et al. (2020) show, the clash is resolved in examples like (28) with an anticipatory pronominal vaa; compare (11a), with no kich and no vaa. A comparable effect is seen in (14b) above: the surface object of the postposition kúuk is vaa, referring forward to a postposed relative clause.

8 A complement clause only very rarely precedes its verb, as in the following example, elicited in a context where the verb ishxay ‘fish’ was under discussion: panishxáaytih tánipikyâar (comp=1sg-fish-dur perf-1sg-finish) ‘I finished fishing’ (Vina Smith, 2013, VS-21).

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Iinâak vaa kích uthítiimti poopakurîihvuti. iinâak váa kích u-thitiṽ-tih pa=u-pákurih-vu-tih inside pro just 3sg-hear-dur comp=3sg-sing-pl.act-dur ‘Inside he just heard her singing.’ (Lottie Beck, 1949–50, KL-18)

Numerous (apparent) main clauses also have the subordinating conjunction pa=. This is especially common in questions (29a), but it is attested in other contexts in many corpus examples (29b). (29)      

a.      

       

b.      

Fâat peetápkuuputih? fâat pa=i-tapkupu-tih what comp=2sg>3-like-dur ‘What do you want?” (Jeannette Horne, 1904; Figure 2 below) Ôok pámit ni’ákunvarat. ôok pa=mit ni-’ákunvu-ar-at here comp=pst 1sg-hunt-go-pst ‘I went out hunting here.’ (Benonie Harrie, 1927, DAF_KT-5a)

These clauses serve pragmatically to background the clausal content following pa=.9

47.2.3.5 Discourse and information structure Narrative, pragmatic, and textual organization can be expressed through particles and word order variation. One common pattern is that a noun is before the verb on first mention and after the verb thereafter (if expressed). This is shown in (30) with successive sentences that were given in describing a single picture. In (30a) and the first clause of (30b), a new referent (ípaha ‘tree’, ávansa ‘man’) is positioned preverbally. A previously mentioned nominal (pa’ípaha ‘the tree’) is postverbal in the second clause of (30b). (30)      

a.      

Víri vaa káan ípaha u’íihya. víri váa kaan ípaha u-’íihya so pro there tree 3sg-stand ‘A tree is (lit., stands) there.’

9 They may be analyzed as clefting (‘what is it that you want?’) or as what Evans (2007) and Mithun (2008) have called “insubordination” (the recruitment of subordinate clauses for main-clause purposes).

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Káru ávansa káan uhyárih, úksuupkuti pa’ípaha. káru ávansa kaan u-ihyárih u-ikshup-ku-tih also man there 3sg-stand 3sg>3-point-to-dur ‘And a man is standing there, he’s pointing at the tree.’ (Julia Starritt, 1949–50, KL-92)

pa=’ípaha the=tree

A second common pattern is that contrastive topics (topical noun phrases that express contrast) are typically preverbal, even if already mentioned. This is shown in (31), a sequence of successive sentences (describing a single picture) from the same source as (30). The clauses in (31a-b) feature newly mentioned nominals, all preverbal. With (31c), the topic shifts from the rattlesnake (the topic in 31b), so even though the children were previously mentioned, the contrastive topic paaxíich ‘the children’ is preverbal. As in (30b), the previously mentioned object of ‘point’ in (31c) is postverbal. (31)                          

a.       b.           c.      

Payôok kuyráak axíich kun’iruvêehriv. payôok kuyráak axiich kun-’iruvêehriṽ here three child 3pl-stand.pl ‘Here three children are standing.’ Káru tapas’ápsuun káan …, utákviihriv muxvâa a’ uhyárih. káru tápas-’ápsuun kaan u-takvih-riṽ mu-axvâah a’ also real-snake there 3sg-curl-at.rest 3sg.poss-head up u-ihyárih 3sg-stand ‘And a rattlesnake is lying coiled there …, its head is standing up.’ Xás paaxíich kuníkshuupkuti pa’ápsuun. xás pa=axiich kun-ikshup-ku-tih pa=’ápsuun and the=child 3pl>3-point-to-dur the=snake ‘And the children are pointing at the snake.’ (Julia Starritt, 1949–50, KL-92)

A third pattern is that focused elements precede contrastive topics. In (32) the previous topic was the floor; pa’ávansa … kích ‘only the men’ is focused, while mukun’ikrívkir ‘their seats’ is the new topic. (32)        

Context (in a description of the living house): “On the floor were their cooking baskets and whatever else they had.” Xás pa’ávansa vúra kích mukun’ikrívkir utâayhiti. kích mukun-ikrívkir u-táay-hi-tih xás pa’=ávansa vúra and the=man intns only 3pl.poss-seat 3sg-much-denom-dur ‘And just the men had many seats (lit., just the men’s seats were many). (The women sat on the ground.)’ (Julia Starritt, 1949–50, KL-77)

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Finally, some particles and other elements are sensitive to discourse properties. For example, according to Bright (1957:129), the postposition îin optionally marks overt animate subjects of transitive verbs with animate objects. Macaulay (2000) refines his analysis by suggesting that îin “tags a subject NP as a peripheral character acting on the main character” (p. 465). This occurs in sentences with third-person subjects and objects, as in (33), the first of several sentences (in a pikvah) naming insects that ate Coyote. As in (20d), îin can also mark first-person subjects with second-person objects. (33)      

Kári xás pâanpay pishpishih’íin tákun’av. kári xás pâanpay pishpishih=’îin ta-kun-’aṽ then and after.a.while yellowjacket=obv perf-3pl>3-eat ‘And after a while yellowjackets ate him (Coyote).’ (Nettie Ruben, 1949–50, KL-1)

More generally, a large text corpus over many decades also rewards study of narrative, rhetorical structure, and textual cohesion (Bright 1980, Brugman & Macaulay 2009, 2015).

47.3 Documentation and revitalization Throughout California, 19th century documentation of Indigenous languages took place in the context of the American invasion, which included resource extraction and genocidal policies; linguistic and cultural documentation was sometimes an element of those policies.10 Some Karuk linguistic information was recorded in this period by journalists, travelers, military officers, and employees of the Bureau of American Ethnology (Curtin 1889). In the first years of the twentieth century, several Karuk people made important contributions to the documentation of their language, including especially Martha Horne and her daughters Julia Bennett and Jeannette Horne (later Beaver). All three worked with the anthropologist A. L. Kroeber: Martha Horne shared a pikvah and some vocabulary and sentences in 1901; in 1901 and 1902 Bennett shared seven pikvah and extensive linguistic material. In 1904, Jeannette Horne created a notebook of Karuk words and sentences in her own hand, one of the earliest surviving California examples of writing by an Indigenous person in her own language; see Figure 2. Kroeber’s papers are housed in The Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley (Kroeber 1869–1972); ten notebooks include original Karuk material.

10 Language documentation remains fraught over 150 years later. In the words of Crystal Richardson (Hinton et al. 2018:xxv), “certain elders … refer to researchers as ‘Brain Pickers’, and the job of collecting information to be disseminated to the outside world is considered one of the foulest forms of exploitation known to Karuk traditionalists.”

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Fig. 2: Notebook prepared beginning on August 2, 1903, by Jeannette Horne for A. L. Kroeber, with English and Karuk, page 23. A. L. Kroeber Papers, 1869–1972, notebook 89 (carton 9:44), BANC MSS C-B 925, The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.

Two decades later, the linguist John Peabody Harrington (employed by the Bureau of American Ethnology) came to Karuk territory to document the language and culture. This work took place in 1926, 1928–1929, and 1933, mainly with Fritz Hansen, Sylvester Donahue, and especially Phoebe Maddux (Figure 3), who went with Harrington to Wash-

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Fig. 3: Phoebe Maddux at Somes Bar on the lower Salmon River, 1908. Photograph by Grace Nicholson / Caroll S. Hartman, photCL 56 (A-82-1), Grace Nicholson Photograph Collection, The Huntington Library, San Marino, California.

ington, DC for nearly a year in 1928–29.11 These collaborations yielded three major publications (Harrington 1930, 1932a, 1932b) and a rich archive of thousands of manuscript pages, preserved in the National Anthropological Archives and now accessible online (Harrington 1925–1933). Tobacco among the Karuk Indians of California (Harrington 1932a) deserves special mention for its remarkable detail, depth and diversity, and scores of pages of Karuk language; Harrington is its listed author, but Maddux is the actual author of almost all the Karuk in it. In the 1940s and 1950s, the linguist William Bright worked with Karuk speakers as a graduate student at the University of California, Berkeley; his 1955 dissertation was A grammar of the Karok language. He reported then that there were around 200 speakers of Karuk, but that children were not learning the language. Bright worked with Karuk speakers from Orleans and the lower half of Karuk territory, including Lottie Beck, Maggie Charley, Daisy Jones, Mamie Offield, Chester Pepper, Nettie Ruben, and Julia Starritt. Some of his materials (including sound recordings) are archived at Berke-

11 In this period documentation was also created by Benonie and Margaret Harrie and Frank and Nettie Ruben, working with Jaime de Angulo and L. S. Freeland (De Angulo & Freeland 1931); other material is preserved from fieldwork by Ursula McConnel (1932–1933) and Hans Jørgen Uldall (n.d.).

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ley (Bright 1949), but most are in the American Philosophical Society (APS) Library.12 The APS has processed Bright’s papers, put some material online, and made a point of seeking out ways to connect Karuk language learners with its collections. In 1966, Humboldt State University (HSU) established the Center for Community Development (later the Center for Indian Community Development, CICD). Under its director Tom Parsons, CICD began to prepare pedagogical materials and establish school- and community-based language classes, initially for Hupa and then for other Indigenous languages. Shan Davis and Leaf Hillman from the Karuk Tribe led a collaboration with CICD whose goal was to bring language education and revitalization to their community. Hillman taught Karuk language classes with Davis in Orleans and Happy Camp; they and Fannie Fisher worked to render Bright’s (1957) lexicon in the Unifon writing system (§ 2.1.4); and elders discussed and Fisher transcribed extensive information on the people whose names were documented in the dictionary. Until the 2000s, CICD arranged regular language speaking and documentation sessions, many of them guided by Karuk speakers or by learners from the tribe with community-specific research emphases. By 2009, HSU began the process of closing CICD. A topic of concern was that the ownership of CICD materials might be contested, so Susan Gehr (2012) prepared a report, drawing on community-based understandings of ownership, principles of ownership in the field of oral history, and the precedents of unpublished Native American language documentation sharing to date. Once the HSU Library agreed to accept the collection, Gehr (2012–2015) prepared a finding aid and the collection was physically transferred. Two Karuk people who documented and published on the language over the years are Julian Lang and Nancy Steele. Lang taught in the Karuk Language Bilingual Credential Program in the late 1980s and reviewed many CICD publications. An important artist as well as a language activist and teacher, he has transcribed many of Harrington’s notes and other Karuk language materials, edited volumes of pikvah and Karuk art (Lang 1994, 2012), and contributed to other volumes on Karuk culture, language, and texts (Hickox 1991, Luthin 2002). Steele has long been a highly collaborative advocate for the revitalization of the Karuk language as well as an accomplished storyteller, basket weaver, and traditional singer. During the 1970s and 1980s, she served as coordinator of the American Indian Languages and Literature Program at CICD, developing language curriculum and publications for Karuk (Richardson 1993) and supporting similar projects for Hupa, Yurok, and Tolowa. In 2019, she received the Linguistic Society of America’s Excellence in Community Linguistics Award for her contributions to language revitalization (Hinton et al. 2001) and her Karuk work in particular. The 1980s saw new, community-based language projects and infrastructure development. The Karuk Language Restoration Committee (KLRC) was formed in 1988

12 See Bright (1949–2006). Also in the APS are recordings created in the 1980s by Stella Howerton and Violet Super, working with Monica Macaulay, together with associated notes (Howerton et al. 1989).

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Fig. 4: Violet Super, Vina Smith, and William Bright recording and transcribing Karuk, February 2004, Orleans, California. Photograph by Susan Gehr.

to preserve and foster the continued use of the Karuk language. Founding members Nancy Steele, André Cramblit, Jeanerette Jacups-Johnny, Vi Silva, Blanche Moore, Robert Goodwin, Vina Smith, Alvis “Bud” Johnson and advisors Bright and Lang encouraged the documentation of fluent speakers, the growth of new speakers, and community language learning and use. Bright had worked on other projects in the 1960s and 1970s, but returned to work with Karuk people at their request by the mid-1980s. Academic linguists were the primary audience of his 1957 grammar, as shown by its theory-dependent (structuralist) analytic assumptions; as he himself would say, decades afterwards, there was much in it that even he could not understand. In his later years, Bright’s work was guided by the needs of the Karuk language community.13 In the early 1990s, Terry and Sarah Supahan started teaching weekly Karuk language classes at Orleans Elementary School, as well as community language classes in their home, with Terry Supahan’s aunt Violet Super as the fluent mentor. She had grown up speaking Karuk because her family kept her from being taken to boarding school. Though doubtful when her family first sought her involvement with revitalizing Karuk, she eventually embraced the work, telling her family that she needed to live to be 100, because she had a job to do (Figure 4). Supahan & Supahan (1996) also published curricula for the pre-school and elementary school levels. And through extensive community involvement, Hoopa Valley High School established a Native languages program,

13 Shortly before he died in 2006, in recognition of this work, Bright was the first person named an honorary member of the Karuk Tribe (Gehr 2006).

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offering courses in Karuk, Hupa, and Yurok. If a student completed two years of one language with a passing grade, they satisfied the non-English language requirement for entrance into California public universities. The Karuk language class has been taught in past years by Phil Albers, whose children grew up speaking the language (Albers & Albers 2013), and by Susan Gehr. In the 2000s, tribally centered projects have generated additional resources. Beginning in 2002, for example, the Administration for Native Americans (ANA) supported a project to develop teaching materials, train teachers, and hold language classes and events. A new printed Karuk dictionary (Bright & Gehr 2005) was a major outcome; an instructional video of Karuk pronunciation, featuring speakers Violet Super and Elizabeth Snapp, and transcriptions of many of J. P. Harrington’s notes were also locally produced by Jim Ferrara. Through another ANA grant (2008–11), Karuk community members documented speakers Sonny Davis, Julian Lang, Vina Smith, and Charlie Thom, Sr.; some results are available online (http://videos.karuk.org). In this project elders indicated that any language documentation or training event needed to be accompanied by opportunities for speakers to speak Karuk together. Since then, training events and many community gatherings always include a speakers’ circle (Rouvier 2017). In 2012–13, the National Endowment for the Humanities supported an audio and video documentation project undertaken by Crystal Richardson, as a result of which 119 hours of recordings with elder speakers were archived at the Survey of California and Other Indian Languages at the University of California, Berkeley. Most recently (2015– 19), the Karuk Tribe received National Science Foundation funding to prepare language materials created by or repatriated to the tribe for archival processing, and to make it possible for community members to care for their work products with preservation and future access in mind. The goals are to facilitate preservation and care of language materials by the Karuk Tribe itself and members of the Karuk language community. Because language learners now do their own documentation and create their own language teaching materials and media, they should also think about and prepare their personal language collections with long-term preservation in mind. This project informs language advocates about the various practical and intellectual activities involved in archiving and encourages them to think about their personal work as worthy of longterm preservation, and where it should go in the future. During this period, a collaboration between the Karuk Tribe and the University of California, Berkeley led to further documentation of elder speakers (Davis et al. 2010– 17) and the creation of Ararahih’urípih, an online dictionary (expanded from Bright & Gehr 2005) and text corpus (http://linguistics.berkeley.edu/~karuk). The corpus contains over 5,000 sentences in 200 texts, ranging from pikvah transcribed by Kroeber in 1901 to stories and linguistic elicitation sessions recorded in the 2010s. All are morphologically parsed and linked to the dictionary; many include sound recordings. In 2020, there are only a handful of elder first-language Karuk speakers. But there are fluent younger speakers who did not grow up fluent; and it is important to add that they and many others did grow up with the language around them. There has

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Fig. 5: Julian Lang and Maymi Preston-Donahue meet to converse in Karuk. Photograph by Adam Loften (Emergence Magazine 2019).

never been a time when Karuk was absent from every home. Today, language classes are taught in Yreka schools; community classes are offered in Arcata by Julian Lang, and in Yreka by Arch Super, Florrine Super, and Franklin Thom. Lang sometimes puts his classes on social media (Facebook Live), so Karuk people who live elsewhere can participate. Used in some homes throughout Karuk territory (and its diaspora), the language shows every sign of strengthening. This also has a broader significance. As Maymi Preston-Donahue has said (“Language keepers” 2019), “language has a huge role in the healing of our people from the historical trauma of being colonized by the settlers and the miners in this area.” Acknowledgements: Gehr thanks her language teachers Julian Lang and the late “Auntie” Violet Super, Elizabeth Snapp, Marge Houston, Alvis “Bud” Johnson, and Sonny Davis. While it feels impossible to acknowledge everyone, she wants to show appreciation to some of her linguistic, language revitalization, and archival mentors: William Bright, Scott DeLancey, David de Lorenzo, Debra Hansen, Leanne Hinton, Lauren Lassleben, and everyone involved with San José State University’s Circle of Learning project. She thanks Jeanerette Jacups-Johnny for welcoming her back to Karuk country and connecting her with our language. Pananúhih chími nuchúuphi! Richardson would like to thank her aunt Nancy Steele for being her first Karuk language teacher. She would also like to thank the language masters who took her under their wing and helped her become a heritage language speaker: Julian Lang and the late Vina Smith, Leland “Junie” Donahue, Sonny Davis, Charlie Thom, Sr., Lucille Albers,

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and Alvis “Bud” Johnson. For discussions and help related to this work she also thanks her linguistics professors Julia Menard-Warwick, Vaidehi Ramanathan, Justin Spence, and Georgia Zellou. Her dear friends who have helped her better understand Karuk linguistics, Leanne Hinton and Patricia Shaw, also have her gratitude. And to all the current and future Karuk language teachers and speakers of their language, vúra táay nu’ítapeesh! Garrett, Maier, Mikkelsen, and Sandy thank their Karuk language teachers Julian Lang, Crystal Richardson, Nancy Steele, and the late Lucille Albers, Sonny Davis, Alvis “Bud” Johnson, Vina Smith, and Charlie Thom, Sr. for their generosity, hospitality, and patience over many years, as well as all who welcomed them and shared their commitment to araráhih. For discussions and help related to this work, they also thank colleagues Kayla Begay, Leanne Hinton, Monica Macaulay, Karie Moorman, Ruth Rouvier, and Ronald Sprouse. The authors gratefully acknowledge support from the Documenting Endangered Languages program of the National Endowment for the Humanities and National Science Foundation (NEH FN-50097-11 to Richardson, NSF BCS-1065620 to the University of California, Berkeley for Garrett and Mikkelsen, NSF BCS-1500605 to the Karuk Tribe for Gehr). The views expressed in this chapter are those of the authors.

Abbreviations Grammatical categories Names of grammatical categories are not necessarily semantic descriptions; in many cases they are names introduced by Bright (1957). Omitted are numbers (SG, PL) and persons (1, 2, 3). ANC ANT COMP DENOM DIM DUR FUT IMPV INSTR INTNS IRR

Ancient Tense Anterior Complementizer (pa=) Denominative Diminutive Durative Future Imperative Instrumental Intensive (vúra) Irrealis (based on unpublished work by Rea Peltola)

ITER NEG OBV PERF PL.ACT POSS PRO PST Q RED VIS

Iterative Negative Obviative (Macaulay 2000) Perfective (ta-) Plural Action Possessive Pronominal (uum, vaa) Past Polarity Question Particle Reduplication (Macaulay 1993, ­Conathan & Wood 2003) Visible (Brugman & Macaulay 2015)

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Texts cited CT, GD-MD-VSu, VS = sentence collections in Ararahih’urípih (http://linguistics.berkeley.edu/~karuk) DAF_KT = De Angulo & Freeland (1931), cited by text number JPH = Harrington (1925–1933), cited by reel and frame number (individual speakers are often not identified) JPH_KT = Harrington (1930), cited by text number KL = Bright (1957), cited by text number (we assume all texts were recorded in 1949–1950) KS = Bennett et al. (2020), cited by text number KV = William Bright, Karok verbs (n.d.), 2 vols., in Bright (1949–2006), organized alphabetically by verb (individual speakers and further sources are not identified) TK = Harrington (1932a), cited by page number

References Albers, Phil & Elaina (Supahan) Albers. 2013. Karuk language and the Albers basket. In Leanne Hinton (ed.), Bringing our languages home: Language revitalization for families, 33–40. Berkeley: Heyday Books. Béjar, Susana. 2003. Phi-syntax: A theory of agreement. Toronto: University of Toronto PhD dissertation. Bennett, Julia, John Gorham, Martha Horne & Little Ike. In preparation. Kunkúphaanik: Karuk stories from 1901–1902. Edited with commentary by Andrew Garrett, Julian Lang & Erik Hans Maier from transcriptions by A. L. Kroeber. Bright, William. 1949. The William Bright collection of Karok sound recordings. LA 78, Survey of California and Other Indian Languages, University of California, Berkeley. Online: http://cla.berkeley.edu/ collection/10145. Bright, William. 1949–2006. William O. Bright Papers. American Philosophical Society Library, Mss.Ms.Coll. 142. Bright, William. 1952. Linguistic innovations in Karok. IJAL 18. 53–62. Bright, William. 1957. The Karok language. Berkeley: University of California Press. Bright, William. 1978. Karok. In Robert Heizer (ed.), California, 180–189. (Handbook of the North American Indians, vol. 8). Washington: Smithsonian Institution. Bright, William. 1980. Coyote’s journey. American Indian Culture and Research Journal 4. 21–48. Bright, William & Jane O. Bright. 1965. Semantic structures in northwestern California and the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis. American Anthropologist 67. 249–258. Bright, William & Susan Gehr. 2005. Karuk dictionary. Happy Camp: Karuk Tribe. Brugman, Claudia & Monica Macaulay. 2009. Relevance, cohesion, and the storyline: The discourse function of the Karuk particle káruma. Journal of Pragmatics 41. 1189–1208. Brugman, Claudia & Monica Macaulay. 2015. Characterizing evidentiality. Linguistic Typology 19. 201–237. Botne, Robert. 2012. Remoteness distinctions. In Robert I. Binnick (ed.), The Oxford handbook of tense and aspect, 536–562. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Campbell, Amy. 2012. The morphosyntax of discontinuous exponence. Berkeley, CA: University of California, Berkeley, PhD dissertation. https://escholarship.org/uc/item/7x94n1wm (accessed 1 June 2020). Campbell, Lyle. 1997. American Indian languages: The historical linguistics of Native America. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Conathan, Lisa. 2004. The linguistic ecology of northwestern California: Contact, functional convergence and dialectology. Berkeley, CA: University of California, Berkeley, PhD dissertation. https://escholarship. org/uc/item/0jj5h838 (accessed 1 June 2020). Conathan, Lisa. 2006. Recovering sociolinguistic context from early sources: The case of Northwest California. Anthropological Linguistics 48. 209–232.

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Conathan, Lisa & Esther Wood. 2003. Repetitive reduplication in Yurok and Karuk: Semantic effects of contact. In H. Christoph Wolfhart (ed.), Papers of the Thirty-Fourth Algonquian Conference, 19–33. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Cook, Sherburne F. 1956. The aboriginal population of the north coast of California. (Anthropological Records 16/3.) Berkeley: University of California Press. Curtin, Jeremiah. 1889. Karok vocabulary. MS 1450, National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution. https://sova.si.edu/record/NAA.MS1450 (accessed 1 June 2020). Davis, Sonny, Andrew Garrett, Erik Hans Maier, Line Mikkelsen, Crystal Richardson, Clare S. Sandy, Vina Smith & Charlie Thom, Sr. 2010–2017. Materials of the Berkeley Karuk Project, SCL 2017–04, Survey of California and Other Indian Languages, University of California, Berkeley. Davis, Sonny, Vina Smith, Nancy Super, Peter Super, Jr., Charlie Thom, Sr. & Line Mikkelsen. 2020. Forms and functions of backward resumption: The case of Karuk. Manuscript, University of California, Berkeley. To appear in Language. De Angulo, Jaime & Lucy S. Freeland. 1931. Karok texts. IJAL 6.194–226. Evans, Nicholas. 2007. Insubordination and its uses. In Irina Nikolaeva (ed.), Finiteness: Theoretical and empirical foundations, 366–431. New York: Oxford University Press. Garrett, Andrew & Line Mikkelsen. 2015. Documenting, analyzing, and teaching the grammar of direction in Karuk. 4th International Conference on Language Documentation and Conservation. http://hdl.handle. net/10125/25285 (accessed 1 June 2020). Gehr, Susan. 2006. Tribal Council awards honorary tribal membership to William Bright, uhyanapatánvaanich. Karuk Tribal Newsletter Fall 2006.11. http://www.karuk.us/images/docs/newsletters/ Fall06Newsletter.pdf (accessed 1 June 2020). Gehr, Susan. 2012. CSU-HSU-CICD Language Ownership Policies. Humboldt Digital Scholar. http://hdl. handle.net/2148/1357 (accessed 1 June 2020). Gehr, Susan. 2012–2015. Center for Indian Community Development Collection finding aid. Humboldt State University Library. http://library.humboldt.edu/humco/holdings/CICDAid.html (accessed 1 June 2020). Golla, Victor. 2011. California Indian languages. Berkeley: University of California Press. Haas, Mary R. 1980. Notes on Karok internal reconstruction. In Kathryn Klar, Margaret Langdon & Shirley Silver (eds.), American Indian and Indoeuropean studies: Papers in honor of Madison S. Beeler, 67–76. The Hague: Mouton. Hale, Ken. 1983. Warlpiri and the grammar of non-configurational languages. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 1. 5–47. Harrington, John Peabody. 1925–1933. Northern and central California: Karok/Shasta/Konomihu. John Peabody Harrington papers, National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution. Harrington, John P. 1930. Karuk texts. IJAL 6.121–161. Harrington, John P. 1932a. Tobacco among the Karuk Indians of California. (Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin 94.) Washington: Government Printing Office. Harrington, John P. 1932b. Karuk Indian myths. (Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin 107.) Washington: Smithsonian Institution. Hayes, Bruce. 1995. Metrical stress theory: Principles and case studies. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Heine, Bernd & Tania Kuteva. 2002. World lexicon of grammaticalization. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press. Hickox, Elizabeth Conrad. 1991. Elizabeth Conrad Hickox (1873–1947): Baskets from the center of the world. Arcata: Reese Bullen Gallery, Humboldt State University. Hinton, Leanne. 2001. New writing systems. In Leanne Hinton & Ken Hale (eds.), The green book of language revitalization in practice, 239–250. San Diego: Academic Press. Hinton, Leanne, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche. 2018. Introduction: Language revitalization as a growing field of study and practice. In Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, xxi-xxx. New York: Routledge.

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M. Ryan Bochnak, Emily A. Hanink, and Alan Chi Lun Yu

48 Wáˑšiw

Abstract: Wáˑšiw (also spelled Wahso, Washoe, and Wašiw [’waː∫iw]; ISO: was) is an endangered language spoken in the Lake Tahoe region of northern California and Nevada. In this chapter, we outline the most significant grammatical features of this language, with special attention given to phenomena that are typologically interesting and which have influenced linguistic theory. As Wáˑšiw straddles the Great Basin and California linguistic areas, we also highlight similarities and differences between Wáˑšiw and neighboring languages and families. We draw on our own recent and ongoing research in phonology, morphology, syntax and semantics, as well as on previous grammatical descriptions. We close with a discussion regarding past and current efforts in language documentation and revitalization in the community.

48.1 Introduction Wáˑšiw (also spelled Washo, Washoe, and Wašiw [’waː∫iw]; ISO: was) is an endangered language spoken in the Lake Tahoe region of northern California and Nevada. “Washoe” has been the official of the name of the tribe since its incorporation in 1934. “Washo” is the spelling most frequently found in anthropological and linguistic literature, however. “Wašiw” is the spelling often preferred by speakers of Wáˑšiw, according to Gordon & Gordon (2019). In recent years, the Culture/Language Resources Department of the Washoe Tribe adopted the spelling, “Wáˑšiw”, as part of their language revitalization and reclamation efforts and it is the spelling we adopted in this work. While members of the Washoe Tribe (waší:šiw “the people”) live in four federally recognized communities: Woodfords in California and Carson, Dresslerville and Stewart in Nevada – Lake Tahoe (referred to simply as dáɁaw “the lake” in Wáˑšiw) and the surrounding areas have traditionally been the center of Wáˑšiw life (i.e. wa:šiw itdéɁ “Wáˑšiw land”; Nevers 1976). The linguistic classification of Wáˑšiw has been a matter of much debate. Early works on Native American languages treated Wáˑšiw as a linguistic isolate (Gatschet, 1882; Henshaw, 1887; Powell, 1891), a classification that is echoed in recent linguistic surveys (Campbell, 1997; Mithun, 1999). Other studies have linked Wáˑšiw to Chumash (Harrington, 1917) and the hypothesized Hokan stock (Sapir, 1917, 1921; Dixon & Kroeber, 1919; Jacobsen, 1979), suggesting a deeper genetic relationship to a group of California language families and isolates. Jacobsen (1964, 10–21) provided an extensive account of the history of classification of Wáˑšiw before 1964. For more discussion regarding linguistic relationships between languages of California, see Dagostino, this volume. For classification of languages more generally, see Haynie, this volume. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-048

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In what follows, we profile different aspects of the Wáˑšiw language, beginning with an overview of the sound patterns in Section 2, the structure of words in Section 3, sentence structure in Section 4, and the semantic and discourse aspects of the language in Section 5 and Section 6 respectively. We close with a discussion regarding past and on-going documentation and revitalization efforts in Section 7. Unless otherwise stated, Wáˑšiw materials cited in this paper are based on fieldwork of one of the three authors. Wáˑšiw materials cited in this article that have appeared in a published source are always accompanied by their source.

48.2 Sound patterns 48.2.1 Vowels The vowel inventory of Wáˑšiw is given in Table 1; the vowels are arranged in a manner corresponding roughly to the position of the tongue in the mouth. The symbol refers ́ “spider” or bɨk’ɨ ́ “grandto a high back unrounded vowel [ɯ], as in words like c’ɨkɨ mother’s sister”. Vowels can be short or long in Wáˑšiw (e.g., dámuɁ “shirt” vs. báːmuš “muskrat”), although long vowels are only found in stressed syllables. Wáˑšiw does not have diphthongs (i.e. a sequence of vowels or a vowel with two articulatory targets in a syllable). Tab. 1: Vowels of Wáˑšiw.  

Front

Central

Back

High Mid Low

i, i: e, e:  

ɨ, ɨː   a, a:

u, u: o, o:  

48.2.2 Consonants The consonant inventory of Wáˑšiw as represented in the practical orthography used in this paper is shown in (2).1 The symbol, , stands for a glottalized alveolar affricate ́ “spider”) and for a palatal glide [j] (e.g., yé:mi [’je.mi] “he’s swim[ts’] (e.g., c’ɨkɨ ming”). Consonants in this language, both obstruents and sonorants (i.e. liquids, glides,

1 The phonemic inventory of Wáˑšiw according to Jacobsen (1964) excludes the segments in parentheses.

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and nasals), have three possible laryngeal settings. Traditional descriptions of Wáˑšiw suggest that obstruents may be voiced, voiceless, or ejective/glottalized (Kroeber, 1907; Jacobsen, 1964, 1996). In word-final and preconsonantal positions, only the voiceless series is found. For example, the root-final /b/ in mayab- “foot” appears as a voiced stop before a vowel-initial suffix -a (e.g., [ˈmajːaba] “foot-loc”), but as voiceless before a consonant-initial suffix -lu (e.g., [ˈmajːaplu] “foot-inst”).2 Obstruents written as voiced obstruents, i.e. , , and , are often realized as voiceless unaspirated, especially in word-initial positions; they are most likely to be realized with prevoicing throughout the stop closure when surrounded by sonorants. Prevoicing may also be observed in word-initial positions but is highly variable within and across speakers. The alveolar /d/ is generally realized as a flap intervocalically. Depending on the speaker, [s] in one speaker’s speech corresponds to [θ] in the other. The exact distribution of this variation is unclear, especially since some speakers vary between the two variants within their speech. Sonorants in Wáˑšiw include nasals, liquids, and glides. They may appear as modal, hence canonical, voice (e.g., m, n, w, l), voiceless/breathy (e.g., , , w̥, ), or glottalized (e.g., m̓, n̓, w̓, l̓; Yu 2018). Modal voiced sonorants may occur in word-initial (e.g., lák’aɁ [ˈlak’ːáɁ] “one”), intervocalic (dílek [ˈd̥ilːek] “duck”), word-final (c’í:bel [ˈts’iːbel] “louse”), and pre-consonantal (hélmeɁ [ˈhelmeɁ] “three’) positions. Voiceless sonorants (, , ŋ, j̥, l̥ , w̥) occur in prevocalic positions (e.g., éːɁi [ˈeːɁi] “I am”, méːu [ˈmeːu] “old man”) but never in coda positions. Phonetically, voiceless sonorants are realized as breathy for the early portion of the sonorant and as modal voice during the latter half. Glottalized sonorants (m̓, n̓, ŋ, l̓, j̓, w̓) are found word-initially (e.g., m̓i̓ːgiyi [ˈm̓iːgiji] “he sees you”), intervocalically (e.g., ŋáḿiŋ [ˈŋam̓ːiŋ] “baby”), word-finally (e.g., digóy̓ [d̥iˈgoj̓] “my father”), and in pre-consonantal positions (e.g., diyáy̓li [d̥iˈjajli] “I cut it”). Glottalized sonorants are realized with either a full glottal stop or creakiness. Wáˑšiw has a restricted system of stress-governed quantity alternation (Yu, 2008). When preceded by a short stressed vowel, /s, š, m, n, ŋ, y, l, w/ are realized with a longer duration if the consonant is also followed by another vowel (e.g., dášːaŋ [ˈd̥a∫ːaŋ] “blood”, dámːuɁ [ˈd̥amːuɁ] “skirt”). When the preceding stressed vowel is long, the following consonant is always short (e.g., wáˑšiw [ˈwa:∫iw] “Wáˑšiw”, báːmuš [ˈb̥aːmu∫] “muskrat”). Long consonants, also known as geminates, are not observed anywhere else.

2 Wáˑšiw forms in the practical orthography are italicized in the text. Phonemic transcriptions are given in / / and phonetic transcription in [ ]. Glosses: 1/2/3: 1st/2nd/3rd person; acc: accusative; attr: attributive; caus: causative; com: comitative; dep: dependent mood; dist.fut: distant future; dist.pst: distant past; ds: different subject; du: dual; imp: imperative; inch: inchoative; ind: independent mood; inst: instrumental; int.fut: intermediate future; int.pst: intermediate past; mod: modal; nc: negative concord; near.fut: near future; neg: negation; nm: clausal nominalizer; nom: nominative; pst: past; pl: plural; q: question particle; rec.pst: recent past; refl: reflexive; ss: same subject; sbjv: subjunctive; stat: static.

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Tab. 2: Consonant inventory of Wáˑšiw. The phonemic inventory of Wáˑšiw according to Jacobsen (1964) excludes the segments in parentheses. /c’/ stands for a glottalized alveolar affricate and /y/ for a palatal glide. Depending on the dialect variety, [s] in one dialect corresponds to [θ] in the other. b    p  p’

d  s  t  t’

  š    c’

g    k  k’

       

m    m̥ (m̓

n    n̥ n̓

       

ŋ    η̥ ŋ)

w    w̥ (w̓

l    l̥ l̓

y    y̥ y̓)

Ɂ  h     

48.2.3 Sound sequences in Wáˑšiw The basic syllable structure has a (C)V(C) template.3 Wáˑšiw does not allow two or more consonants to appear immediately adjacent to each other word-finally. Such sequences can be avoided via vowel insertion. The quality of the inserted vowel differs depending on the nature of the first consonant in such a sequence. When the first consonant is a glottal stop, the intervening vowel is always the same quality of the vowel preceding the glottal stop. For example, the nominal root /daɁw/ “lake” in the locative form is dáɁwa [ˈd̥awɁa] “in the lake”, but it is realized with an echo vowel in the nominative form, dáɁaw [ˈd̥aɁaw] “lake”. Other consonant sequences are broken up via the insertion of /ɨ/. For example, the nominal root “arm” /alŋ/ is t’álŋa [ˈt’alŋa] “on her arm” when followed by a vowel-initial locative suffix -a, but is lálːɨŋlu [ˈlalːɨŋlu] “with my arm” when followed by the consonant-initial instrumental suffix -lu. Sequences of vowels (i.e. vowel hiatus) are not allowed in Wáˑšiw. A glide is inserted to break up the potential vowel sequence (e.g., gót’ayi /got’a-i/ [ˈgot’aji] “it breaks” vs. gót’aha /got’a-ha/ [ˈgot’aha] “break it”; lá:duya /l-a:du-a/ [ˈlaːduja] “1.poss-hand-loc/on my hand” vs. lá:dulu /l-a:du-lu/ [ˈlaːdulu] “1.poss-hand-inst/with my hand”). In a restricted set of prefixes (e.g., the nominalizer dE –, 1st person subject marker lE –, 3rd person object marker gE –, imperative gE –; E indicates the alternating vowel), a limited pattern of vowel harmony is observed where the morpheme would be realized with [a] when the following stressed vowel is /a/ or /o/ (e.g., da-háŋa “his/her mouth”, da-tóɁo “his/her throat”) but as [e] when followed by a stressed /e/, /i/, /ɨ/, or /u/ (e.g., de-k’étep “his/her bottle”, de-gúɁu “his mother’s mother”).

3 This analysis differs from that of Jacobsen (1964). According to Jacobsen (1964), there exist initial consonant clusters as well as word-final clusters. However, many of the examples are from loanwords. Other examples came from consonant sequences involving sonorants and glottal stop. The present description follows an analysis of such sequences as single segments, thus reducing the necessity of positing highly restricted consonant clusters in the language.

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48.2.4 Lexical stress Lexical stress, indicated by the acute accent diacritic on vowels (í, é, á, ó, ú, ɨ́ ), is assigned within the domain of the stem. Inflectional affixes do not receive stress. Take, for example, the word [leˈguɁujiɁ] /le-guɁu-iɁ/. Primary stress remains on the second to the last syllable (penult) of the stem/root gúɁu “mother’s father” even when inflected (i.e. neither the 1st person possessive prefix /le-/ nor the attributive-possessive suffix /-iɁ/ affected the primary stress placement). Reduplication is within the domain of stress assignment (e.g., dámal-/damámal- “to hear/PL”; mé:hu-/mehú:hu- “to be a boy/ pl”). While main stress is generally on the penult (e.g., memdéwi “deer”; masát’i “flint arrow head”), it may surface on the final syllable if the final syllable contains a long vowel (e.g., mudá:l “winnowing basket”; šuw̓éːk “clam”). Certain auxiliary verbs (e.g., -ášaɁ fut, -šému- “really’, -mámaɁ- “to finish”, -wéwš – “slightly, almost”) are also within the domain of stress assignment. There also exist certain suffixes that are inherently stressed (e.g., the negative suffix -é:s, the interrogative suffix -hé:š, -áy̓ “discarded” etc.).

48.3 Structure of words The morphological structure of Wáˑšiw verbs generally follows the template shown in Table 3. Tab. 3: Wáˑšiw verbal template. Inflectional prefix

Derivational prefix

Root/bipartite stem

Derivational suffix

Inflectional suffix

personmarking          

stative; intransitive; reflexive        

plural (§3.2)            

auxiliary; negation; question; direction; manner; inchoative; aspect causative

mood; switch reference          

Derivational morphological processes often result in changes in lexical category and/ or changes to core aspects of word meaning. For example, the verb yák’ašha- “to warm something up; warm-caus”) is derived from the verb yák’aš – “to be warm” and the causative suffix -ha. Some examples of derivations are given below: – Causativation with -ha: míːp’ɨl- “to be in the state of being full”/ míːp’ɨlha- “to fill something up”. – Instrumental nominalization Ɂit-: gé:gel “to sit”/Ɂitgéːgel “chair”; gumbéyit “to brush/comb oneself”/Ɂitgumbéyit “a brush/comb”.

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– Deverbal nominalization /dE-/: gumsuɁúɁuš “to dream”; degumsuɁúɁuŠ “dream”). – Stativization w –: t’éːbeɁ “fallen snow, snow on ground” vs. wt’éːbeɁ “snow to be on the ground, to be accumulating on the ground”, gális ‘winter; year’ vs. wgális “to be winter; to spend the winter (in a certain place)” – Negation -e:s: didámali “I heard it” vs. didámalé:si “I did not hear it”. Inflectional processes generally affect the word form without changing the core meaning of the word (di-yák’aš-i ‘I am warm; 1-warm-ind’) and can be prefixal or suffixal in Wáˑšiw. Prefixal inflection is restricted to the imperative (a prefix added to verbs to indicate that one is making a command or request) and person markers (i.e. prefixes that refer to an entity elsewhere in the clause or discourse). All other inflectional morphology appears to be suffixal (e.g., the independent mood marker -i, the dependent mood marker -aɁ, and the switch reference marker -š). The person marking system of Wáˑšiw is fairly complex. Particularly noteworthy is the fact that the shape of the person/number marker often differs depending on whether the following morpheme begins with a vowel or a consonant. For example, the 2nd person subject marker (“you”) is m- before a vowel and um- before a consonant; the 3rd person possessive prefix (i.e. “his”, “hers”, “their”, “its”) is t’ before a vowel and dE – before a consonant. Certain combinations of person features may be expressed by a single morpheme, rather than the combination of multiple morphemes (i.e. portmanteaux); see Douros 2019 for an analysis. For example, 1/2 refers to 1st person subject and a 2nd person object, which is marked by mi – before a consonant and mile- before a vowel. Finally, an important division between morphemes in Wáˑšiw concerns whether a morpheme is within the domain of stress assignment or not. The division is not simply a difference between derivational and inflectional morphemes, although inflectional morphemes are more likely to be outside the domain of stress assignment.

48.3.1 Bipartite stem formation An important feature of Wáˑšiw morphology is the prevalence of bipartite stems in the language (Jacobsen, 1980; Bochnak & Rhomieux, 2013). Bipartite stems are akin to verbal compounds in some languages (e.g., English fist-bumping, eye-catching, etc).4 For example, the verb šum̓áwd – ‘to throw something over the edge’ contains two elements. The initial element šum̓ – contributes the meaning “throw”, while the final element -awd contributes the meaning “over the edge”. Tense, aspect, mood, and agreement morphology appear outside the bipartite stem. The initial elements of bipartite stems have been

4 Bipartite stem formation might be an areal feature as it is also found in many of Wáˑšiw’s neighboring languages (DeLancey, 1996).

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classified into two subclasses (Bochnak & Rhomieux, 2013): those related to the body part involved in the action vs. those indexing the instrument involved in the action. The body-part initial verbs (e.g., tum̓áɁam- “foot-into.water/to put one’s foot into the water”) are morphologically strictly intransitive and the initial element can introduce a discourse referent that can be referred to later. The nominal reference of the initial can also be doubled with an independent noun phrase in the instrumental case and can be subject to apparent external modification, also in the instrumental case. The instrument noun initial verbs (e.g., ugát’g- “with.club-kill.SG/to kill with a club-like object”) can be transitive, intransitive, or ditransitive, and the nominal cannot introduce a new discourse referent, but also shows apparent doubling and external modification in the instrumental case, like the body-part initial verbs. For example, the sentence tuɁmáɁami máyaplu “he put his foot into the water” contains the additional (doubled) noun máyab “foot” with the instrumental suffix -lu even though the bipartite verb tuɁmáɁam- (tuɁm“foot”, -aɁam- “into.water”) already means “to put one’s foot into the water”.

48.3.2 Reduplication Wáˑšiw employs partial reduplication to denote plurality in nouns (e.g., géwe/gewéwe “coyote/coyotes”) and pluractionality in the verbal domain (e.g., dámal-i “s/he hears”/ damámal-i “they hear/-i ind”; bíŋil- “to try”/biŋíŋil- “to try repeatedly”). Reduplication is partial in that the part that is duplicated (the reduplicant; see underlined) generally consists of only a consonant and a vowel (Yu, 2006), even when the noun or verb that is being copied from is much longer. The left edge of the reduplicant must be aligned with respect to the left edge of the stressed syllable. Since stress falls predominantly on the penultimate syllable of the stem, the reduplicant appears to be infixing (i.e. appearing internal to a root or stem) in many instances. The infixal nature of partial reduplication is best illustrated with stems that contain internal consonant sequences. For example, the singular form of “father’s brother” is ɁéwšiɁ, while the plural form is ɁešíwšiɁ.

48.3.3 Auxiliaries Auxiliaries, which generally encode aspectual or adverbial information (e.g., mamaɁ “finish”, gaŋaɁ “start” šemu “really”, aŋaw “good/well” etc.), most often appear as verbal suffixes, but may also be prosodically independent from the matrix verb as they can carry primary stress. Speakers allow a long pause between the verb stem and the auxiliary that would be impossible for other suffixes. Additionally, certain tense and auxiliary suffixes may also appear on their own when resuming or adding to discourse-established information (e.g., Ɂ-ášaɁ-i “3-near.fut-ind/it will”, Ɂ-áŋaw-i “3-good-ind/it is good”), which Jacobsen (1964, 397) refers to as ‘anaphoric theme’ constructions.

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48.4 Sentence structure 48.4.1 Main clauses The neutral word order of Wáˑšiw is Subject-Object-Verb (SOV), though postverbal elements are sometimes permitted. This order is shown in (1); note that indirect objects precede direct objects: (1)    

há:diɁ wí:diɁ bedíliɁ Ɂ-íšɨl-i that this matches 3/3-give-ind “That one is giving this one matches.”

   

Jacobsen (1964, 456)

Wáˑšiw displays the head-final property of making sole use of postpositions (e.g., “with”, “for”). Postpositions follow nominals, as opposed to prepositions (which precede nominals in languages like English). An example of this is shown below with the instrumental postposition -lu (2). (2)    

hélmeɁ máyap-lu ∅-séɁeš-i three leg-inst 3-wade-ind “He is wading with three legs.”

Within modified nominal expressions however, word order is largely flexible. Modifiers with descriptive content, numerals, and quantifiers may precede or follow the noun they modify, as demonstrated in (3a-b) with the quantifier míl̓eʔ “all” (see Section 5.2 for more on modifiers): (3)        

a.   b.    

t’ánu míl̓e-w Adele ∅-sú:dɨm-i person all-pl Adele 3/3-look.at-ind míl̓e-w t’ánu Adele ∅-sú:dɨm-i all-pl person Adele 3/3-look.at-ind “Everyone is looking at Adele.”

48.4.2 Clausal embedding There are two prominent strategies for clausal embedding (the dependence of one clause on another). The first is clausal nominalization (a process whereby an entire clause is turned into a nominal argument) with the independent mood marker -i; the second is bare clausal embedding with the dependent mood marker -aɁ. Independent mood -i can be considered the default as it occurs in most matrix clauses, while dependent mood is used only in limited types of embedded clauses.

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48.4.2.1 Clausal nominalizations Clausal nominalizations are found in a range of environments in Wáˑšiw: they are used in internally-headed relatives as in (4) (so-called because the semantic ‘head’ of the rela­ tive remains internal to the embedded clause, see Jacobsen 1998; Peachey 2006; Hanink 2021), as complements of factive verbs (5) (verbs that presuppose the truth of their complement, see Hanink & Bochnak 2018 and Bochnak & Hanink 2022), and as complements of perception verbs (6) (e.g., “see”, “hear”, Hanink 2016, 2018). (4)      

Internally headed relative [ Adéle gawá:yɨɁ Ɂ-í:gi-yi-š-gi ] ∅-m̥úɁuš-uweɁ-i [ Adele horse 3/3-see-ind-ds-nm.nom ] 3-run-hence-ind “The horse that Adele saw is running away.”

(5)      

Complement of factive verb [ ∅-háɁaš-i-š-ge ] di-hámup’áy̓-i [ 3-rain-ind-ds-nm.acc ] 1/3-forget-ind “I forgot that it rained.”

(6)      

Complement of perception verb [ sí:su ∅-šéšɨm-áŋaw-i-š-ge ] di-dámal-gal̓á:m-i [ bird 3-sing.pl-well-ind-ds-nm.acc ] 1/3-hear-like-ind “I like hearing the birds’ good singing.”

Hanink (2018, 61)

Hanink & Bochnak (2018, 67)

Hanink (2018, 74)

Clausal nominalizations are full clauses with the nominalizing element -gi/-ge (subject/ object, respectively) at their right periphery, which turn them into arguments of the matrix verb. This nominalizer is identical in form to the third person pronoun; like third person pronouns, this nominalizer shows a subject/non-subject case distinction that reflects the grammatical argumenthood of the clause, either as a subject (4), or an object as in (5)–(6) (see Hanink 2018, 2021 for discussion). Finally, as Jacobsen (1998) notes, the presence of a clausal nominalization can perturb the typical SOV order of Wáˑšiw, as such nominalizations generally appear as the first argument, even to the left of the subject (léši ‘we’) (7): (7)    

[ git-ŋaɁmíɁmiŋ bugayáy-i-š-ge ] lé-ši [ 3.poss-cub.r 3.talk-ind-ds-nm.acc ] 1.pro-du “We both heard her talking to her cubs.”

di-dámal-leg-i   1/3-hear-rec.pst-ind   Jacobsen (1998, 114)

48.4.2.2 Bare embedded clauses Non-factive verbs (verbs that do not presuppose the truth of their complement) occur instead with bare clauses, which are so described because they lack the normalizing morphology observed in the types of clauses in Section 4.2.1. (Hanink & Bochnak 2018).

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These clauses occur with the mood marker -aɁ, as in (8). Notably, these clauses also lack switch reference morphology (see Section 6.1), which would otherwise mark the distinctness of cross-clausal subjects in (7). The absence of nominalizing and switch reference morphology indicates that they contain less structure. (8)    

Béverli [ démlu di-begúweɁ-é:s-aɁ ] ∅-hámu-yi Beverly [ food 1/3-buy-neg-dep ] 3-think-ind “Beverly thinks I didn’t buy the food.”

48.4.2.3 Adjuncts The dependent mood marker -aɁ is also used in adjuncts, which are optional clauses that add information to the main clause. Adjuncts are used for example to indicate ­temporal simultaneity of actions, states, or events (9). Note that unlike in clauses embedded by non-factive verbs, temporal adjuncts display the predicted different subject marker -š. (9)    

di-hámu-Ɂáŋaw-i [ dí:be w-álag-eweɁ-a-š ] 1-feel-well-ind [ sun stat-shine-hence-dep-ds ] “I feel good when the sun is shining.”

48.4.2.4 Embedded imperatives Finally, a typologically uncommon behavior of Wáˑšiw is that it allows imperatives to be embedded, both within a clausal nominalization (10) and within an adjunct (11): (10)    

[ séwɨt ge-séɁš-uweɁ-i-∅-ge-lu ] ga-l̥ ók’aš-ha [ porcupine imp-take-hence-ind-ss-nm.acc-inst ] IMP-scare-caus “Take a porcupine and scare him with it.” Jacobsen (1998, 111)

(11)    

[ húŋa g-é:d-é:s-aɁ-∅ ] ge-gé:gel [ what imp-say-neg-dep-ss ] imp-sit “Don’t say anything and sit!”

48.4.3 Questions Wáˑšiw seems to lack any true wh-movement. This means that wh-words are often found in-situ (12a), but may also appear in a clause-initial position, as in (12b) (obligatory in English):

Wáˑšiw 

(12)        

a.   b.    

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Eddy húŋa-t’eɁ-hé:š ∅-yá:šuɁ-i Eddy what-kind-Q 3/3-wash-ind húŋa-t’eɁ-hé:š Eddy ∅-yá:šuɁ-i what-kind-Q Eddy 3/3-wash-ind “What is Eddy washing?”

‘Long-distance’ wh-movement across clauses is accordingly not permitted, as shown in (13), in which the wh-word gúdiŋahe:š ‘who’ remains in the embedded clause. (13)    

[ Eddy gúdiŋa-hé:š Ɂ-í:gi-yaɁ ] Ɂum-hámu-yi [ Eddy who-Q 3/3-see-dep ] 2-think-ind “Who do you think Eddy sees?”

Note that the suffix -hé:š is a question particle that generally occurs as a suffix on wh-words (e.g., on ‘horse’ in (13)). In the case of ‘yes/no’ questions on the other hand, it generally occurs as a suffix on the verb, as in (14): (14)    

gawá:yɨɁ Ɂum-sudɨm-hé:š-i horse 2/3-look.at-Q-ind “Are you looking at the horse?”

48.5 Meaning 48.5.1 Tense, modality and mood 48.5.1.1 Temporal interpretation with and without tense Wáˑšiw uses several strategies to encode temporal interpretation. First, there are clauses which do not contain any tense marker at all. These can be interpreted as referring to the past or present, depending on contextual factors (Bochnak, 2016). The verb type also has an effect: tenseless clauses with stative verbs (15) tend to receive a present interpretation, while clauses unmarked for tense with eventive (action) verbs (16) tend to receive a past interpretation. There is no dedicated present tense in Wáˑšiw. (15)    

wá:diŋ ∅-wa-yák’aš-i now 3-stat-warm-ind “It (the weather) is warm now.”

   

(16)    

watlí: zí:gɨn l-é:bik-ha-yi morning chicken 1/3-be.cooked-caus-ind “I cooked chicken this morning.”

(Bochnak, 2016, 252)    

(Bochnak, 2016, 252)

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Nevertheless, there also exist several past tense morphemes that can be used to make past temporal interpretation more precise (Jacobsen, 1964). The most frequent are the so-called graded tenses which encode different ‘grades’ of temporal distance/remoteness), which indicate whether the sentence is about a time in the near, intermediate or distant past; see (17). Alongside these is a general past marker -uŋil (“defunctive” in Jacobsen 1964), which does not specify any remoteness value (Bochnak, 2016). Using the defunctive -uŋil typically implies either that a state that held in the past no longer holds at present, or that the result state of an event that occurred in the past no longer holds at present; see (18). (17)    

a.  

Ø-háɁaš-leg-i 3-rain-rec.pst-ind “It was raining.”

(adapt. Jacobsen 1964: 633)

     

b.    

mi-damal-é:s-ay̓ -i-∅-gi 1/2-hear-neg-int.pst-ind-ss-nm.nom “I didn’t hear you.”

(adapt. Jacobsen 1964: 636)

     

c.    

Ø-yéɁeš-uweɁ-lul-iɁ-i-š-gi 3-fly.away-hence-dist.pst-attr-ind-ds-subj.rel “He flew away long ago.”

(adapt. Jacobsen 1964: 636)

(18)        

di-táwɨn-iɁ-giš-uweɁ-uŋil-i-š-ŋa wa-yásaŋ-i-š   1-town-attr-along-hence-pst-ind-ds-but static-hot-ind-ds   di-p’-í:gel-ayɁ-leg-i     1-walk-turn.around-away-rec.pst-ind     “I went to town, but it was too hot, and I turned back.”  (adapt. Jacobsen 1964: 609)

Whereas tenseless clauses may refer to either the present or the past, a future interpretation almost always requires a future marker. Future markers in Wáˑšiw specify whether the time being talked about is in the near, intermediate or distant future (Jacobsen, 1964). Note that what counts as near, intermediate or distant is not symmetrical between the past and future. (19)                

a.     b.     c.    

l-émlu-yášaɁ-i   1-eat-near.fut-ind   “I’m going to eat (right away).” m-íp’am-t-i-∅-gi m̥-éɁ-i 2-arrive-int.fut-ind-ss-nm.nom 2-mod-ind “You will arrive (later today).” ∅-háɁaš-gab-i-gi wát   3-rain-dist.fut-ind-nm.nom tomorrow   “It’ll rain tomorrow.”

(adapt. Jacobsen 1964: 593)

(adapt. Jacobsen 1964: 642)

(adapt. Jacobsen 1964: 649)

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48.5.1.2 Modality and mood Wáˑšiw has very few expressions that correspond to the English modal auxiliaries (e.g., must, can, might, etc.). One such expression is the modal verb -eɁ, which is homophonous with the copula ‘to be’. The modal use of -eɁ can be recognized by its clausal embedding properties: either embedding a clausal nominalization, like in (20a) and (20c), or a smaller clause without mood marking, as in (20b). Unlike modal verbs in English which specify modal force (i.e., whether something is necessary or just possible; compare must/ have to versus can/may), the modal -eɁ is compatible with both necessity and possibility interpretations (Bochnak, 2015a,b), a property shared by modals in other languages of the greater Pacific Northwest. Sentences containing the modal -eɁ are compatible with a wide range of modal interpretations, or “flavors”, including epistemic (relative to a body of knowledge; see (20a)), deontic (relative to a set of rules; see (20b)), or pure circumstantial (relative to a set of salient facts (20c)). (20)

a.

               

      b.       c.

     

     

Context: you are planning to drive over the mountains. It has started to snow, and you know that whenever it snows, the road over the mountains is closed. ∅-déɁeš-áŋaw-i-š yéweš gum-beyéc’ig-i-∅-gi k’-eɁ-i 3-snow-good-ind-ds road refl-be.closed-ind-ss-nm.nom 3-mod-ind “It’s snowing a lot, so the road must be closed.” (Bochnak, 2015a, 7) Context: Mary’s friends come over to see if she is allowed to come out to play. wá:diŋ hé:š Ɂum-p’áyt’i-giš-uweɁ k’-éɁ-i   now Q  2-play-along-hence 3-mod-ind   “Now can you come play?” (Bochnak, 2015a, 8) Context: you are discussing what could grow in the garden, given the type of soil k’-éɁ-i wáɁ ŋáwa-ya dawp’áp’ɨl Ɂ-íɁim-áŋaw-i-∅-gi flower 3-grow-good-ind-ss-nm.nom 3-mod-ind here dirt-loc “Flowers could grow well here in this dirt.“” (Bochnak, 2015a, 9)

Another strategy is the subjunctive marker -hel, which is used for possibility statements. Note that the modal verb -eɁ is also present in (21). (21)      

Context: you have been working on fixing the house for quite a while now. It is almost done, but you are not sure if you will be able to finish it by tomorrow. wát di-dó:daɁ-máma-hel-i-š-gi k’-éɁ-i   tomorrow 1-work-finish-subjv-ind-ds-nm.nom 3-mod-ind   “I might finish it tomorrow.” (Bochnak, 2015b, 110)

The verbal suffix -i that has appeared in the vast majority of examples so far was analyzed by Jacobsen as an imperfective aspect, while the suffix -aɁ was analyzed as an aorist form. These have since been re-analyzed as independent and dependent mood markers, respectively (e.g., Bochnak 2015b, 2016, 2023; Hanink & Bochnak 2018).

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Some of the evidence for this re-analysis is as follows. First, as already acknowledged by Jacobsen, these morphemes often do not contribute their hypothesized aspectual meaning to the sentences they appear in. That is, both -i -marked and -aɁ-marked clauses can have imperfective or perfective aspectual reference (Bochnak, 2016, 2023). The distribution of these two morphemes is better characterized on syntactic grounds. Dependent -aɁ is restricted to certain subordinate clauses, including complements of verbs of thinking or saying, and many adjunct clauses. It also appears frequently in texts as a clause-chaining strategy. Bochnak & Hanink (2022) analyze -aɁ as having the semantics of conjunction ‘and’. Meanwhile, -i is a default mood marker – it appears in most matrix clauses and whenever -aɁ or another mood marker is not or cannot be used. Second, -i and -aɁ are in complementary distribution with other mood morphemes, such as optative -hi, imperative-∅ (unmarked),5 hortative -hulew, and the so-called “redundant” -le (see Jacobsen (1964) for more detailed descriptions of these suffixes).

48.5.2 Numerals and quantification Wáˑšiw has a full series of numerals, with a base-ten numeral system. Numerals come in three forms (Jacobsen, 1996): ordinary counting forms, which end in a glottal stop (e.g., hésgeɁ máɁak ‘two sticks’); ‘exactly’ or ‘just’ forms, which append -ŋ (e.g., lák’aŋ mé:hu ‘just one boy’); and forms used for counting humans (e.g., t’ánu háw̓aw four people’). In the latter case, -w is appended to numerals greater than two, with special forms for ‘one’ and ‘two’. These forms are shown in Table 4 for numerals up to five. As shown in the examples above, the numeral may appear before or after the noun. This is true no matter which form of the numeral is used. Tab. 4: Forms of numerals up to five in Wáˑšiw.  

ordinary

‘exactly’/‘just’

human

one two three four five

lák’aɁ hésgeɁ hélmeɁ háw̓aɁ dubáldiɁ

lák’aŋ hésgeŋ hélmeŋ háw̓aŋ dubáldiŋ

lék’iliŋ hésgilši hélmiw háw̓aw dubáldiw

The quantification words t’é:k’eɁ ‘many’ and míl̓eɁ ‘every/everything’ also come in three forms: t’é:k’eɁ ‘many [things]’, t’é:k’eŋ ‘definitely a lot’, t’é:k’ew ‘many [people]’; and míl̓eɁ ‘everything’, míl̓eŋ ‘definitely all’, and míl̓ew ‘all [the people]/everyone’. There is also the 5 Note that imperative verb forms are marked by a prefix ge-/ga-, or le- with a first person object, and can appear with dependent mood -aɁ in embedded clauses; see section 48.4.2.4.

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special dual form míl̓eši ‘both’. These quantification words can also appear either before or after the noun, see for instance example (3).

48.5.3 Negation Negation in Wáˑšiw is expressed by the morpheme -e:s. In sentential negation, this suffix occurs on the verb, as in (22). There are however also cases of phrasal negation – in particular, quantificational modifiers tend to bear the suffix, as in (23). (22)    

Adéle-ŋa wáɁ-ŋa Ɂ-áŋal-é:s-i Adele-nc here-nc 3-reside-neg-ind “Adele doesn’t reside here.”

(23)    

t’ánu-ŋa míl̓e-w-é:s baŋáya person-nc all-pl-neg outside “Not everyone is around outside.”

Ɂ-éɁ-gáp’ɨl-i 3-be-around-ind

The suffix -ŋa in (22) and (23) is a negative concord morpheme that is licensed by local negation, more specifically, by a clause-mate negative suffix -é:s (see Hanink 2019 for an overview).

48.6 Discourse 48.6.1 Switch reference Switch reference is a cover term referring to morphology that tracks whether subjects are the same or different across clauses (Jacobsen 1967), and is a common phenomenon in North America (McKenzie 2015, this volume). In Wáˑšiw, this morphology appears on embedded verbs solely across subordinate clause boundaries (Finer 1985; Arregi & Hanink 2018, Arregi & Hanink 2022). The following clauses represent this behavior in the case of embedded relatives, though this marker occurs in all subordinate clause types (aside from the complements of non-factive verbs, as discussed in 4.2.2). In (24), the subject of the embedded clause is Adele, while the subject of the matrix clause is ‘the horse that Adele saw’. For this reason, the different subject morpheme -š appears on the embedded verb. (Subscripts indicate co-reference or disjoint reference, i.e., constituents marked with the same subscript refer to the same individual.) (24)    

[ Adélei gawá:yɨɁj Ɂ-í:gi-yi-š-gi ]j ∅j-úɁuš-uweɁ-i [ Adelei horsej 3/3-see-ind-ds-nm.nom ]j 3-run-hence-ind “The horsej that Adelei saw is running away.”

=(4)

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In (25) on the other hand, the subject of both clauses is ‘the girl’, and no switch reference morphology appears on the embedded verb (glossed here as a null ‘same subject’ morpheme): (25)    

[ šáwlamhui t’é:liwhuj ∅-bóŋi-yi-Ø-gi ]i [ girlj manj 3/3-call-ind-ss-nm.nom ]i “The girli that called the manj is here.”

wáɁ here

Ɂi-éɁ-i 3-be-ind

48.6.2 Sentential connective theme Wáˑšiw makes use of an interesting discourse feature that Jacobsen (1964) refers to as the ‘sentential connective theme’ (Jacobsen 1964, 397). This refers to the use of peripheral verbal suffixes such as mood and nominalizing morphology that appear without a verb stem, and are used to refer back to a preceding clause. For instance, this morphology can be used when a speaker wishes to form a relative clause out of a clause they have just ended with the dependent mood marker -aɁ. As relative clauses may only be formed out of clauses with the independent mood marker -i (Jacobsen 1964, 663), the speaker may repeat this mood marker, followed by switch reference and nominalizing morphology in order to continue the sentence, as in (26): (26)    

mudaláɁ ∅-l̓át’ɨg-aɁ Ɂi:-∅-ge doe 3-kill.by.biting-dep ind-ss-nm.acc “She ate the doe that she killed by biting.”

Ɂ-íɁw-aɁ   3/3-eat-dep   (adapt. Jacobsen 1998, 111)

The sentential connective theme comes in a variety of forms, and may also occur with the dependent mood (27) or sequential morpheme -ud (28). (27)    

d-émlu-ya ∅-hámu-p’-ay̓-i food-loc 3-think-crawl-away-ind “She forgot the food and didn’t eat.”

ɁaɁ-∅ dep-ss

(28)  

mé:hu la-bugay’áy̓-i boy 3/1-talk-ind ∅-wagayay̓-ášaɁ-i

mé:hu boy

Ɂud-i-∅ seq-ind-ss

Ɂ-émlu-yé:s-i 3-eat-neg-ind Ɂida and

šáwlamhu girl

3-talk-near.fut-ind “The boy’s talking to me and then the boy and girl will talk (together).” In general, the sentential connective theme is used to resume a clause at the level of the mood morpheme, and may not include any tense morphology (aside from the sequential marker, as in (28), which precedes mood).

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48.6.3 Clause chaining with -aɁ-clauses In texts and narratives, it is common to find series of clauses marked with the dependent mood -aɁ. This clause chaining strategy is hypothesized to be a variety of the clausal adjunction function of -aɁ (Bochnak & Hanink 2022; cf. sect. 4.2.3). The following example comes from a version of the Coyote and Lizard story told to Jacobsen by John Wiger in 1955/1956. The first two full clauses in (29a)–(29b) are marked with -aɁ, while the final clause in the chain, (29c), uses the independent -i. (Note also the use of the sentential connective theme at the beginning of (29a) and (29b), as well as the different subject marker in (29b), indicating a change in subject from the previous clause.) (29)                

a.     b.     c.    

Ɂuŋil-i-š-gi píteliɁ Ɂit-mélmay̓-k’eŋ-aɁ-∅ past-ind-ds-nm.nom lizard inst-keep.asking-just-dep-ss “But lizard just kept asking” Ɂi-š ga-óyaw-etiɁ-aɁ-∅ ind-ds 3/3-angry-inch-dep-ss “and coyote got angry at him” géwe píteliɁ Ɂ-išúɁuš-uweɁ-i coyote lizard 3-go.after-hence-ind “and coyote went after the lizard.”

48.7 Documentation and revitalization The first systematic investigation of Wáˑšiw was conducted by Alfred L. Kroeber in the early twentieth century. Kroeber’s work with Robert Schermerhorn, a Wáˑšiw speaker living near Reno, resulted in the publication of a sketch of the phonology and morphology of the language as well as an accompanied text (Kroeber, 1907). Grace Dangberg collected stories from Blind Mike and Bill Fillmore in the summers of 1919 and 1920 in Minden, Nevada and worked on the translation of the myths with Henry Moses Rupert. Dangberg published a short description of Wáˑšiw (Dangberg, 1922) and a collection of Wáˑšiw stories (Dangberg, 1927), presented both in Wáˑšiw and in English. Robert H. Lowie worked with Dave Cheney from Minden, Nevada and Jack Pitts and Bill Cornbread from Coleville, California in 1926. The English translation of a collection of Wáˑšiw stories appeared in Lowie (1939), while the Wáˑšiw transcriptions were published posthumously in 1963. William Jacobsen Jr. began working on the Wáˑšiw language in the late 1950s, primarily with Roy James, Wally John, and Roy and Jemimah Cornbread of Woodfords, California, Bertha Holbrook, Hank Pete, Clara Frank, Mike Holbrook, and Donnie and Eenie Cornbread of Dresslerville, Nevada, and John Wiger, Frank Morgan, and Lizzie Evans of Loyalton, California. His 1964 University of California, Berkeley dissertation offered a comprehensive description of the phonological and morphological aspects of Wáˑšiw grammar. Jacobsen continued to publish on various topics of Wáˑšiw

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grammar (see below), as well as a short pedagogical book on learning Wáˑšiw (Jacobsen, 1996). Audio recordings from Jacobsen’s fieldwork in the late 1950s as well as those from the anthropologist Warren d’Azevedo have been archived at the Berkeley Language Laboratory and are accessible at http://cla.berkeley.edu/list.php?langid=375=Washo. Prior to Jacobsen’s dissertation, which introduced a pseudo-phonemic writing system (i.e. the system allows some predictable information to be written), language maintenance and revitalization efforts were mainly done at the individual level. Roma James recorded a journal of stories that detailed the tribe’s way of life using a system adopted from the International Phonetic Alphabet (Irwin, 2015). Wáˑšiw words were written in a mixed alphabet-syllabic script in Nevers (1976). No standard orthogra­ phy has officially been adopted by the tribe. Jacobsen began teaching language classes near Dresslerville in 1979 and language circles initiated by language activists brought together elders to share stories in Wáˑšiw began in early 1980s. The Wašiw Wagayay Maŋal (the house where Wáˑšiw is spoken) was established in September 1997 to teach pre-schoolers through eighth-graders all subjects except math in Wáˑšiw. The immersion school closed in 2003. Between 2012–2015, the “Patalngi Me?ki” (Eagles Nest) Immersion Project created a language nest in a Head Start classroom within the tribe’s Dresslersville community and provided Wáˑšiw language immersion instruction to children between the ages of three to five years old and to their parents and family members to increase the knowledge of the language in the community. Community language classes continue up to the present. Linguistic investigation of the Wáˑšiw language experienced a renewal with the launch of the Wáˑšiw Documentation Project in 2006 with the support of the Documenting Endangered Languages program at the National Science Foundation. The Wáˑšiw elders who contributed centrally to this effort include Ramona Dick, Adele James, Steven James, and Eleanor Smokey. Besides academic articles regarding various aspects of Wáˑšiw grammar, the project developed an online database for the Wáˑšiw language http://washo.uchicago.edu, including a mobile-friendly searchable English-Washo/ Washo-English lexicon equipped with audio samples (http://washo.uchicago.edu/ mobile/) which aims to assist in revitalization and language maintenance efforts. As noted above, Jacobsen’s dissertation offered a comprehensive description of the phonological and morphological systems of Wáˑšiw. Other topics of Wáˑšiw grammar that have received attention include consonantal phonetics and phonology, vowel harmony, lexical stress, reduplication, morpheme ordering, pronominal markings, numerals and quantifiers, bipartite stem, switch reference, transitivity, and internally headed relatives. The Wáˑšiw Documentation project also maintains a bibliography of Wáˑšiw-related work and can be found at http://lucian.uchicago.edu/blogs/washo/?page_ id=82. Readers interested in language maintenance and revitalization might use the information provided in Jacobsen’s pedagogical text (Jacobsen, 1996) as well as in this article as entry points to facilitate the interpretation and perusal of materials available on the Wáˑšiw Documentation Project website.

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Acknowledgment: This work would not be possible without the generous support and patience of the Wáˑšiw elders who share their knowledge of the language and culture with us. Thanks also go to the wider Wáˑšiw community for helping to make this work possible and for their comments on earlier versions of this paper, and to the reviewers and editors of this volume for their constructive comments and suggestions. Portions of this work were supported by NSF Grant #0553675. Authors are listed in alphabetical order.

References Arregi, Karlos & Emily A. Hanink. 2018. Switch Reference in Washo as multiple subject agreement. In Sherry Hucklebridge & Max Nelson (eds.), Proceedings of the North East Linguistic Society 48, vol. 1, 39–48. GLSA Publications. Arregi, Karlos & Emily A. Hanink. 2022. Switch reference as index agreement. Natural Language & Linguistic Theory 40: 561–702. Bochnak, M. Ryan. 2015a. Underspecified modality in Washo. In Natalie Weber & Sihwei Chen (eds.), Work-shop on the Structure and Constituency of Languages of the Americas 18, 3–17. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Working Papers in Linguistics. Bochnak, M. Ryan. 2015b. Variable force modality in Washo. In Thuy Bui & Deniz Özyıldız (eds.), North East Linguistic Society (NELS) 45, Volume 1, 105–114. Amherst: University of Massachusetts, GLSA Publications. Bochnak, M. Ryan. 2016. Past time reference in a language with optional tense. Linguistics and Philosophy 39. 247–294. Bochnak, M. Ryan. 2023. Some aspects of aspects in Wá∙šiw. International Journal of American Linguistics. 89(1): 1–38. Bochnak, M. Ryan and Emily A. Hanink. 2022. Clausal embedding in Washo: Complementation vs. modification. Natural Language & Linguistic Theory 40: 979–1022. Bochnak, Ryan & Alice Rhomieux. 2013. Limited noun incorporation in Washo. International Journal of American Linguistics 79(2). 253–281. Campbell, Lyle. 1997. American Indian Languages: The Historical Linguistics of Native America. Oxford University Press. Dangberg, Grace. 1922. The Washo language. Nevada State Historical Society Papers 3. 145–152. Dangberg, Grace. 1927. Washo Texts, vol. 22 University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. DeLancey, Scott. 1996. The bipartite stem belt: disentagling areal and genetic correspondences. In Proceedings of the twenty-second annual meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society: Special session on historical issues in Native American languages, 37–54. Berkeley Linguistics Society. Dixon, Roland & Alfred Kroeber. 1919. Linguistic families of California. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 16. 47–118. Douros, Darby. 2019. Person marking in Washo as agreement and clitic movement. B.A. Thesis, The University of Chicago. Finer, Daniel. 1985. The syntax of switch-reference. Linguistic Inquiry 16. 35–55. Gatschet, Albert S. 1882. Indian languages of the Pacific states and territories and of the pueblos of New Mexico. Magazine of American History with Notes and Queries 8. 254–263.

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Gordon, Christine & Sam Gordon. 2019. Where Wašiw is spoken: the Washoe Tribe is passing its unique language on and up. American Indian 20(2). https://www.americanindianmagazine.org/story/ where-wasiw- spoken. Hanink, Emily. 2016. Internally headed relatives and event nominalizations in Washo. In Emily Clem, Virginia Dawson, Alice Shen, Amalia Skilton, Geoff Bacon, Andrew Cheng & Erik Maier (eds.), Berkeley Linguistics Society (BLS) 42, 119–134. Berkeley: University of California, Berkeley Linguistics Society. Hanink, Emily. 2018. Structural Sources of Anaphora and Sameness: University of Chicago dissertation. Hanink, Emily. 2019. Negative concord in Washo as negative agreement. In Patrick Farrell (ed.), Linguistics Society of America (LSA) 93, vol. 4.41, 1–12. Hanink, Emily & M. Ryan Bochnak. 2018. Factivity and two types of embedded clauses in Washo. In Andrew Lamont & Katerina Tetzloff (eds.), North East Linguistic Society (NELS) 47, Volume 2, 65–78. Amherst: University of Massachusetts, GLSA Publications. Hanink, Emily A. 2021. DP Structure and internally headed relatives in Washo. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 39(2): 505–554. Harrington, Jonathan. 1917. Announcement of genetic relationship between Washo and Chumashan. American Anthropologist 19. 154. Henshaw, Henry. 1887. Notice of linguistic research on Washo in 1883. Bureau of American Ethnology Report 5. xxx. Irwin, Ken. 2015. Native tongue: learn the language of the original inhabitants of this region. https://www. newsreview.com/reno/native-tongue/content?oid=16279413. Jacobsen, William H., Jr. 1964. A Grammar of the Washo Language: University of California, Berkeley dissertation. Jacobsen, William H., Jr. 1967. Switch-reference in Hokan-Coahuiltecan. In Dell Hymes & William Bittle (eds.), Studies in Southwestern Linguistics, 238–263. The Hague: Mouton. Jacobsen, William H., Jr. 1979. Hokan inter-branch comparisons. In Lyle Campbell & Marianne Mithun (eds.), The languages of Native America: Historical and comparative assessment, 545–591. University of Texas Press. Jacobsen, William H., Jr. 1998. Headless relative clauses in Washo. In Leanne Hilton & Pamela Munro (eds.), Studies in American Indian languages: Description and theory, 102–116. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Jacobsen, William H. Jr. 1980. Washo bibpartite verb stems. In Kathryn Klar, Margaret Langdon & Shirley Silver (eds.), American Indian and Indo-European Studies: Papers in Honor of Madison S. Beeler, 85–99. Berlin: Mouton. Jacobsen, William H. Jr. 1996. Beginning Washo. Carson City, Nevada: Nevada State Museum. Kroeber, Alfred L. 1907. The washo language of east central california and nevada. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 4. 251–317. Lowie, Robert H. 1939. Ethnographic Notes on the Washo, vol. 36 (University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 5). Berkeley: University of California Press. Lowie, Robert H. 1963. Washo texts. Anthropological Linguistics 5(7). 1–30. McKenzie, Andrew. 2015. A survey of switch-reference in North America. International Journal of American Linguistics 81. 409–448. Mithun, Marianne. 1999. The Languages of North America. Cambridge University Press. Nevers, Jo Ann. 1976. Wa She Shu: A Washo Tribal History. Inter-Tribal Council of Nevada. Peachey, Robert M. 2006. On switch-reference and the internally-headed relative clause construction in Washo. Ms., University of Chicago. Powell, John Wesley. 1891. Indian linguistic families of America north of Mexico. Annual Report of the Bureau of [American] Ethnology 7. 1–142. Sapir, Edward. 1917. The status of Washo. American Anthropologist 19. 449–50.

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Sapir, Edward. 1921. A supplementary note on Salinan and Washo. International Journal of American Linguistics 2. 68–76. Yu, Alan C. L. 2006. Quantity, stress and reduplication in Washo. Phonology 22(3). 437–475. Yu, Alan C. L. 2008. The phonetics of quantity alternation in Washo. Journal of Phonetics 36(3). 508–520. Yu, Alan C. L. 2018. Laryngeal schizophrenia in Washo resonants. In Gene Buckley, Thera Crane & Jeff Good (eds.), Revealing structures, 267–280. Palo Alto, CA: CSLI.

Eugene Buckley

49 Pomoan Abstract: Pomoan is a well-defined family of seven languages in northern California. Their territories are adjacent or in close proximity, but they are surrounded by languages of several different families. The Pomoan languages are similar in many aspects of sound, word, and sentence structure, yet also have enough diversity to serve as an excellent case study in language change over time, as well as the effects of contact among related and unrelated languages. Notable properties in all or most of the languages are large inventories of consonants; complex verb structure including a system of instrumental prefixes; person marking with independent pronouns rather than on the verb itself; case-marking that permits relatively free word order; and switch reference suffixes for the tracking of reference among clauses.

49.1 Introduction The Pomoan family consists of seven languages spoken in northern California. They were named by Barrett (1908) according to their relative location. Six contiguous languages are located in Sonoma, Mendocino, and Lake counties: Eastern and Southeastern Pomo around Clear Lake; and Northern, Central, Southern, and Southwestern Pomo along the coast. Northeastern Pomo, an outlier in many ways, is separated from the rest of the family by the unrelated Yuki and Patwin languages. The original term Southwestern Pomo has been replaced by the indigenous word Kashaya (Oswalt 1961: 1); no similar term is in widespread use for the other languages (as opposed to tribal groups), but Salt Pomo has sometimes been used for Northeastern, a translation of a native term (Walker 2016a). The name Pomo itself is based on a confusion of two distinct Northern Pomo words; it was adopted to describe all the related languages (McLendon & Oswalt 1978: 277). This survey focuses on linguistic properties of the languages, which are notable for large consonant inventories and agglutinative verb morphology that can involve sequences of multiple suffixes to create complex words. Brief treatments of the family include Mithun (1999: 473–476) and McLendon (2006); longer discussions, with more details about geography and placenames, can be found in McLendon & Oswalt (1978) and Golla (2011: 105–111). Book-length grammatical overviews are available for five of the languages: Southern (Walker 2020), Kashaya (Oswalt 1961), Northern (O’Connor 1992), Eastern (McLendon 1975), and Southeastern (Moshinsky 1974). More specific treatment of particular topics can be found for Central in Mithun (1988a, b and many later works) and for Northeastern in Walker (2016a). The only large collection of published texts is in Kashaya (Oswalt 1964a). No dictionary of a Pomoan language has been published, but Oswalt prepared https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-049

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manuscript dictionaries of Kashaya, Central, and Southern (available at the California Language Archive in Berkeley); an edited and expanded version of the Kashaya dictionary prepared by this author is available online (www.webonary.org/kashaya). Walker (2016b) is a significant lexicon of Northeastern. Most of the Pomoan languages are dormant, but there is increasing interest in language revival and revitalization; see § 7. At this writing, there are a few native speakers of Central, and perhaps a dozen native speakers of Kashaya.

49.2 Diachrony The full Pomoan family was first clearly recognized by Barrett (1908). Other work has suggested membership in the broader and controversial Hokan stock, which ranges from north of Pomoan through California to northern Mexico, and beyond, in some analyses (Dixon & Kroeber 1913; Sapir 1917; Campbell 1997; Kaufman 2006). The link to the Yuman family, at the southern end of the core Hokan region, is the most promising (Crawford 1973; Langdon 1979). The Pomoan family likely originated around Clear Lake (Oswalt 1964c; Basgall 1982; Whistler 1988). The most important work on the history of the family is McLendon (1973); other sources discuss internal relations (Oswalt 1964c; Halpern 1964), sound changes (Webb 1971, which has unreliable transcriptions; Moshinsky 1976), and language contact (Oswalt 1958; McLendon 1969; Mithun 2007; Walker 2016a). It is widely agreed that Southeastern and Eastern Pomo are the most distinct from the rest of the family; the main point of uncertainty is where Northeastern fits with the other languages. Oswalt (1964c, 1976) gives the internal structure in Fig. 1, which has become a standard point of reference (as in Mithun 1999: 473). The term Proto-Pomo is used for the common ancestor of all seven languages, whose properties can be inferred from comparison of the modern languages. At the higher nodes, I follow Halpern (1964) in showing first Southeastern and then Eastern splitting off from the other five, which he calls Proto-Russian River Pomo (named after the river that runs through the territories of all but distant Northeastern); Proto-Pomo Western Branch Southern Group Southern

Kashaya

Fig. 1: Pomoan family tree

Central

Northern

Northeastern

Eastern

Southeastern

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Oswalt (1976) endorses a similar cline of relatedness. Halpern is uncertain whether Northern might be grouped with either Central or Northeastern; see Walker (2016a) for difficulties in the classification of Northeastern. In later work, Halpern (1984) posits that Southern branched off before Northeastern, based on the retention in Southern of what he takes to be archaic features; and he places Kashaya and Northern together.

49.3 Phonology 49.3.1 Vowel inventory All the Pomoan languages have a five-vowel inventory, /a e i o u/, that is relatively stable from the proto-language to modern times. (1)        

Pomoan vowels   front high i  mid e  low  

central     a 

back u  o   

A minor complication is that Southeastern Pomo has frequent insertion of short vowels in the stem-initial consonant clusters that result from historical loss of a vowel in this position; the quality of the inserted vowel is dependent on the adjacent consonants, and this introduces additional central vowels such as [ə] and [ɨ]. For instance, /xya/ ‘head’ can be realized as [xya], [xəya], or [xɨya]. Moshinsky (1974: 21) treats these processes as optional but, it seems, phonologically real; it is possible, however, that this is a variable phonetic rule of vowel insertion, or excrescence. Certainly, the inserted vowel is ignored for the regular placement of stress on the first syllable, although it “infrequently” shifts onto the inserted vowel across a glottal stop (Moshinsky 1974: 26). The vowel insertion, called epenthesis, that occurs in sequences of suffixes appears to be fully phonological; it consists of /i/ in most cases, but /a/ after the consonants /m/ and /q/ (Moshinsky 1974: 26–27; Goodman 1992). This distribution of /a/ is an old feature of Pomoan since it occurs widely in the family. For example, Southeastern /ʦa-l-q-m-q-t/ surfaces as ʦalqamaqat ‘many are rolling it along the ground’; and Kashaya /kel-m-w/ becomes kelmaw ‘peer directly down at’ (Oswalt 1964: 158; Buckley 1994: 104). Limited vowel harmony has occurred historically in some of the languages (McLendon 1973: 41–44). The lowering of prefixal */u/ to */o/ when */o/ occurs in the following syllable can be reconstructed to the proto-language, since it survives in all four languages that have maintained these distinctions in the prefixes (Oswalt 1976). Examples are Eastern /do:-qo-/ ‘identify by touching’ vs. /du:-da-/ ‘cut finger accidentally’; and Kashaya /šo-koṭ-/ ‘drag’ vs. /šu-kel-/ ‘pull straight’. Parallel vowel lowering has been extended to prefixal /i/ before /e/ in Southern, as part of a process that operated quite generally

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within words: *bihše > behše ‘deer’. Eastern has a similar lowering of /i/ but only across a laryngeal consonant, as in /di:-he-:l/ becoming de:he:l ‘dig’ (McLendon 1975: 34).

49.3.2 Vowel length All the languages have distinctive vowel length, again with a proviso for Southeastern. This language has lost vowel length that would otherwise have been inherited from the proto-language, and overwhelmingly shows short vowels in its vocabulary. It has reintroduced some long vowels in borrowed words, apparently only (but not always) where the source language has a stressed vowel in the initial syllable; compare ʦí:ʦala ‘peas’ and kápoṭe ‘coat’ from Spanish chícharo /ˈčičaɾo/ and capote /kaˈpote/ ‘cloak’ (Moshinsky 1974: 6, 19). New vowel length also arises in initial syllables in Eastern and Southern. In Eastern Pomo, most initial syllables contain long vowels. This results partly from the loss of historical laryngeal increments; that is, /h ʔ/ preceding a restricted set of consonants in the coda of the first syllable (see § 3.4). The increment is replaced by vowel length, as in *biʔdu > bi:du ‘acorn’ and *qahqo > qa:qo ‘valley, clearing’, but the resulting pattern was generalized to other words with initial open syllables preceding a regular stress on the second syllable, such as *qʰale > xa:le ‘tree’. A more limited version of the same pattern is found in Central Pomo; this language has lost most pre-tonic vowels (i.e., those preceding the stressed syllable) but has often preserved /a/ in this position. It too is long, at least utterance-initially and optionally elsewhere (Oswalt 1964b: 156), though mainly in the coastal dialect (Marianne Mithun, p.c.). In every Southern Pomo word of two or more syllables, the initial syllable is either closed by a consonant or contains a long vowel. Walker (2020: 115) treats length /:/ as a laryngeal increment along with /ʔ/ and /h/, so this pattern (including kʰa:le ‘tree’) can similarly be seen as a generalization of the increments in that syllable – or a principle that all initial syllables are heavy (i.e. containing a long vowel or a coda consonant), with vowel lengthening when a coda consonant is not present. McLendon (1973) reconstructs ‘tree’ and similar words with a long vowel, *qʰa:le, but the evidence for this appears to be from Eastern and Southern Pomo, where the length can be attributed to the innovations described.1 For example, Kashaya preserves increments and distinctive vowel length but does not have a long vowel in qʰale ‘tree’; that vowel is similarly short in Northern xale (also reported as kʰale) and Northeastern kʰali, although Northern has lost increments entirely. In both Eastern and Southern,

1 McLendon (1973: 51) hints at a similar analysis but was hampered at the time by a few Southern Pomo words that were transcribed by Halpern with initial short open syllables. Oswalt’s later notes show all of these words with an increment of one kind or another, so that they fit the general pattern and permit this analysis.

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the systematic absence of historically pre-tonic short consonant-vowel (CV) syllables suggests regular sound changes have applied in those languages. Long vowels also arise by iambic lengthening in Kashaya (Oswalt 1961; Buckley 1994) and Central Pomo (Mithun 1999: 474). This process lengthens a vowel in the head of an iambic (right-headed) foot, and leads to common alternating short and long vowels in words such as Kashaya momú:lič’e:duče:du ‘keep running all the way around’. A number of languages have suffixes that cause lengthening of a preceding vowel. A suffix may consist exclusively of lengthening, such as the Eastern stative and the Kashaya and Southern locative.

49.3.3 Consonant inventory The greatest diversity in consonants among the Pomoan languages is found in the voiceless stops, where we find six places of articulation and three manners among them, specifically plain, aspirated, and ejective. The following consonants are found in the family, but no language has every consonant listed. (2)                  

Pomoan consonants       labial voiceless p  aspirated pʰ ejective p’ voiced stops b  fricatives f  nasals m  approximants w 

laminodental t̯ t̯ ʰ t̯ ’        

apicoalveolar ṭ  ʦ  ṭʰ ʦʰ ṭ’ ʦ’ d      s  n    l, r  

palatoalveolar č  čʰ č’   š    y 

  velar k  kʰ k’   x     

  uvular q  qʰ q’   x̣    

  glottal ʔ        h     

The palato-alveolars are phonetically affricates [tʃ], but pattern phonologically as stops in at least some of the languages. All the languages have the first three places listed in their inventory of stop consonants, as well as the glottals, but the remaining obstruent consonants are lacking from some languages, and these present a more complex situation.2 McLendon (1973) and Moshinsky (1976) derive the palato-alveolars */č čʰ č’/ from the proto-velar series */k kʰ k’/; Oswalt (1976) reconstructs palato-alveolars directly, distinct from velars, but McLendon is less certain whether a full palatal series is motivated. The best evidence is for the ejective, which most often continues as /s’/ or /ʦ’/, so an alveolar fricative or affricate may be the simplest reconstruction. Potential */č/ is not

2 I do not use plain c here because it has different values (/č/ or /ʦ/) in the usual transcriptions of the different languages. Similarly, I avoid plain t since some sources reserve this for the dental, others for the alveolar. See § 7 for discussion of practical orthographies.

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strongly motivated, and McLendon does not reconstruct */čʰ/; Moshinsky reconstructs only */č’/. An alveolar affricate /ʦ/, always alongside ejective /ʦ’/ and for some languages aspirated /ʦʰ/ as well, is found in Southern, Northern, and Eastern (where it contrasts with /č/) as well as Southeastern (which lacks contrastive /č/). For McLendon, these series derive from */č/ (as noted, perhaps this is just */s’/) and */k/ in various contexts. Among the labial stops, only */pʰ/ is well motivated, and this is the only one that Moshinsky reconstructs. McLendon also has */p’/ but acknowledges the limited evidence; she does not reconstruct */p/. All the languages support the reconstruction of two voiced stops, */b d/. In some languages they show affinities to the glottal /ʔ/ or the nasals /m n/. Buckley (1994) argues that the voiced stops in Kashaya are underlyingly glottalized nasals, /m’ n’/. Only Eastern and Southeastern fully maintain the original uvular class. Southern, Northern, and Northeastern entirely eliminate uvulars by */q/ > /k/. In Kashaya and Central, */q/ fronts to /k/ before the vowels /i e/ but remains uvular before /o a/ as well as before consonants and word-finally.3 The resulting distribution of /q/ remains a solid generalization in Kashaya and Central, although at least for some older Kashaya speakers /q/ could be retained before /i/ or /e/ in certain suffixes (Oswalt 1961: 37; see also McLendon 1973: 16). The sequences /ka/ and /ko/ were reintroduced into these languages by borrowings; in adjacent Southern and Northern Pomo, they are of course the outcome of */qa/ and */qo/, and they occur freely in Spanish borrowings such as kawa:yu ‘horse’ in both Kashaya and Central. The Russian River languages (perhaps as a single speech community after Southeastern and Eastern split off) show the change */k/ > /č/. A notable secondary development is that Northeastern has dental /t̯ / as the reflex of plain */k/. The change */č/ > /t̯ / occurs in the adjacent Patwin language, and therefore is very likely a contact effect in Northeastern, where the change is more limited: in Patwin it includes the aspirate and ejective. In Northeastern those remain palato-alveolar, so that */k kʰ k’/ > /t̯ čʰ č’/ (Walker 2016a: 84–85). Most of the languages preserve three manners for the voiceless stops  – plain, aspirated, and ejective. The main exception is that the aspirates in Southeastern have become fricatives: */pʰ ṭʰ qʰ/ > /f š x̣/, plus */kʰ/ > /š/ or /x/ depending on context. Limited evidence, however, suggests that */t̯ ʰ/ simply lost its aspiration to become /t̯ /. Other languages have more limited changes to a fricative: Northeastern */pʰ/ > /f/, Eastern */qʰ/ > /x/, and Northern */kʰ/ > /čʰ/ > /š/. I follow Oswalt (1964c) and Moshinsky (1976) in reconstructing */š/ for the category that has this reflex in all the languages except Southeastern, which has /x/; McLendon (1973) chooses */x/. However, since the six other languages formed a single group after

3 Earlier descriptions of Central Pomo (see McLendon 1973: 24) include only /k/, but later work recognizes that both /q/ and /k/ are present in the language (Oswalt 1976: 15; Mithun 1988a et seq.). No doubt the limited distribution of /q/ impeded the recognition of the contrast before /o/ and /a/.

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Southeastern split off, it is possible that */x/ > /š/ was an early shared change. McLendon (1973) also reconstructs */x̣/ distinct from */h/ to account for correspondence sets with Eastern /x/ and Southeastern /x̣/, but Moshinsky (1976: 65) suggests this may be attributable to conditioned sound change; note that exactly these two languages introduce fricatives (/x/ or /x̣/) from */qʰ/ as well. (Both */h/ and proposed */x̣/ are uniformly /h/ in the other five languages.) Eastern, Southeastern, and Northeastern have developed a rhotic consonant, typically written as /r/ in the literature but often realized as the tap [ɾ]; it is a reflex (descendent sound) variously of the stops */ṭ/ and */d/. Northeastern is unique in having merged /s/ and /š/ into a single phoneme /š/; its pronunciation seems to have been intermediate between the canonical values of these fricatives, a retracted [ṣ] characteristic of many California languages (Bright 1978), and shared with the neighboring Wintuan languages Nomlaki and Patwin (Walker 2016a). Northeastern has the voiceless lateral fricative [ɬ] as a variant of /š/, also likely due to the presence of /ɬ/ in Wintuan.

49.3.4 Laryngeal increments This term refers to the segments /h ʔ/ that occur before another consonant, and partly depend on its features (Halpern 1984; Oswalt 1998). Though reconstructed for the proto-language, they survive only in Southern, Kashaya, and Northeastern. Southern has developed an especially complex set of increment alternations, which include vowel and consonant length (Walker 2020); otherwise, geminate (or long) consonants are rare across the family. Evidence for the former presence of the /h/ increment does, however, come from Eastern Pomo. This language has the voiceless sonorants /m̥ n̥ l̥ w̥ ẙ/, which derive historically from the /h/ increment preceding a voiced sonorant. Since these sounds now pattern as single segments – they frequently occur initially, as in /l̥ oq’a/ ‘one thing to fall’, or with a preceding long vowel, /ka:n̥u/ ‘word’ – they can no longer be treated as sequences. Compare these words to their Kashaya cognates /hloq-/ and /čahno/, with the same meanings.

49.3.5 Syllable structure The Pomoan languages have obligatory onsets, with optional coda consonants and vowel length; the most common syllable types are therefore /CV/, /CVC/, and /CV:/. Onset clusters of two consonants are common word-initially in Southeastern and Central, due to the loss of pretonic vowels; in Southeastern, at least, a transitional vowel is optionally inserted in these clusters (§ 3.1). Three-consonant clusters can be found in Southern, as in /hit̯ :ankʰč’in/ ‘thinking’, which Walker (2020: 59) analyzes as a simple coda followed by a complex onset /kʰč’/.

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Word-final clusters occur regularly in Kashaya when the /a/ of an evidential suffix is deleted, as in /sinamqʰ/ ‘he must have drowned’ with the circumstantial evidential suffix /-qa/. Changes to consonants are especially common in the syllable coda, or before another consonant. Here I mention examples of consonant deletion. In Southern, most consonants become vowel length when preceding another consonant by affixation, as in /mi-:mač-ba/ → mi:ma:ba ‘having cried’ (Walker 2020: 66). In Southeastern, the consonants /d/ and /h/ are deleted before another consonant, as in /bṭed-lay/ → bṭelay ‘women’ (Moshinsky 1974: 26). In Kashaya, the glides /w y/ change to vowel length before another consonant, including across a word boundary, as in /ʔahay ʔanaw ʔahsiy/ → ʔaha: ʔana: ʔahsiy ‘very hard wood’ (Oswalt 1961: 107). A common source of consonant clusters in Southern is syncope (deletion of a vowel), which creates closed syllables. Here consonant deletion does not apply, as in /ha-ht̯ alokoč’-in/ → hat̯ :alokč’in ‘take your foot up out of (it)!’ (Walker 2020: 94–95). Syncope is also found in Southeastern, as in /ʔo-mal-ay/ → ʔomlay ‘they (non-displaced)’ (Moshinsky 1974: 37).

49.3.6 Stress Primary stress can be reconstructed on the second syllable of most words (McLendon 1973: 34). It falls on the initial syllable where the root is just one syllable in length; essentially, the stress does not move off the root of the word. It is likely that this pattern arose from a strictly morphological root-initial pattern; given the frequency of words containing an instrumental prefix (§ 5.1), this would most often correlate with the second syllable, and that generalization was extended to unprefixed roots of at least two syllables, such as *bihˈše ‘deer’ and *šiʔˈba ‘body’ (Moshinksy 1976; Buckley 2014). Continuing with these words, the pretonic syllable was deleted in Southeastern bxe, xba and Central p’še, šba; but it remains in the other languages, such as Northern biˈše, šiˈba and Eastern bi:ˈše, ši:ˈba; the last two languages largely maintain the original second-syllable stresses. Southeastern has regular initial stress, since all pretonic vowels were deleted; in Central, stress is initial in words that have lost the first vowel, but remains on the second syllable when the first vowel is preserved (as in the case of /a/): *bahˈša ‘buckeye’ > ba:ˈša compared to Southeastern bxa. In Northeastern the stress has often moved to the first syllable, but in other cases remains on the second, as in ˈbehše versus šiʔˈba. The conditioning factors for this shift have not been determined. Kashaya stress is the most complex of the family (Oswalt 1961, 1988). By default, stress falls on the second syllable if it is heavy, otherwise on the third syllable, and alternating (light) syllables undergo lengthening. This indicates a classic iambic foot pattern combined with extrametricality of the first syllable, which excludes it from being incorporated into a foot (Buckley 1994). This extrametricality is blocked if the root is unprefixed and monosyllabic (i.e. one syllable without a prefix, such as mo- ‘run’), which is a

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variant of the proto pattern that keeps stress on such roots. The pitch accent that realizes the main stress may further shift to a following foot, depending on the location of underlying long vowels. In all, accent can fall on any of the first five syllables. According to Vihman (1976), the realization of accent in Northern Pomo as a particular pitch depends on whether the accented syllable contains a short or long vowel, and what sort of consonant (if any) occurs in the coda of the accented syllable. More recent work using recordings collected by Cathy O’Connor gives a somewhat different view. Shepardson (2008) finds that stress is on the second syllable by default but moves to a long vowel elsewhere in the word – an apparent unbounded pattern not attested in the other Pomoan languages. She also does not find evidence for Vihman’s claim of a rising pitch on certain syllables containing a short vowel. Dailey (2020), working with a larger corpus, confirms a falling pitch on a CV: syllable in words that contain one. But in words that lack long vowels, there is a “default-to-opposite” pattern: the pitch peak (High tone) falls on the leftmost closed (CVC) syllable, otherwise on the final syllable of the word. The overall evidence suggests that Northern Pomo may have been developing a tonal contrast between Low and High tones. The most striking outlier among the Pomoan stress systems is Southern, which has abandoned the left-orientation of the proto-language for a penultimate pattern, with stress regularly on the second syllable from the end of a word or phrase (Walker 2020). This is the dominant pattern in neighboring Coast Miwok, so the change is likely the result of contact (Buckley 2014).

49.3.7 Intonation Some descriptive grammars give basic information about sentence-level intonation; for example, Oswalt (1961) identifies three phrase-final contours in Kashaya (falling, level, and rising). An interesting feature of the rising contour in Kashaya is that it is associated not only with questions but also certain morphemes, in particular the responsive -em that indicates the speaker is responding to a previous utterance or action. Little instrumental work has been done on this topic in Pomoan, but Mithun (1993a, 2020b) analyzes the relation between constituent order and intonational patterns in Central. In particular, she argues that the reset of pitch level sentence-initially is the basis for the pragmatic role of initial versus final position in the sentence.

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49.4 Noun morphology 49.4.1 Pronouns The internal structure of nominals is considerably simpler than that of verbs in Pomoan. Participants in an event are expressed by independent pronouns rather than verb affixes, and these pronouns are not obligatory. They distinguish number in all persons, and gender in the third person singular. Case marking (§ 6.2) includes agent (the main person in control), patient (the one who undergoes some change), and oblique forms (for possessive or benefactive meanings) (McLendon 1976). This set from Northern Pomo is typical. (3)                

Northern Pomo (O’Connor 1992: 170)   Agent Patient 1st sing. ʔa: t̯ o: 1st plur. ya yal 2nd sing. ma mit̯ o 2nd plur. ma: ma:l 3rd sing. masc. mo:w mo:wal 3rd sing. fem. ma:n ma:dal 3rd plur. pʰow pʰowal

Oblique t̯ oʔ / kʰe yaʔ miʔ maʔ mo:waʔ ma:daʔ pʰowaʔ

The third-person pronouns are often derived from demonstratives such as ‘that one’ and vary considerably across the languages (see especially Mithun 1990a). There is no dual number in pronouns, for exactly two persons (though Southeastern has dual vs. plural in motion verbs). Nor is there an inclusive/exclusive distinction in the first person, which would depend on whether ‘we’ includes the person addressed. Southeastern marks proximity (nearness) and displacement (non-visibility) in the third person (Moshinsky 1974: 99). Case marking and especially number marking are often not required on nouns, but can be expressed by suffixes or enclitics, and are more common with animate or human referents. The languages have postpositions that follow the noun, unlike the prepositions of English and similar languages.

49.4.2 Possession All the languages except for Northeastern4 have a distinction between alienable and inalienable possession; this distinguishes relations that come and go, such as a house, 4 It shares this lack with the adjacent languages Yuki and Patwin, suggesting another effect of contact (Walker 2016a: 87).

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versus those that are true throughout one’s life, such as an arm or mother. The oblique pronouns that mark alienable possession may overlap in function with a benefactive (‘for’) or other oblique meaning, and those that mark inalienable possession are the same (or similar) in form as the patient pronouns. Languages may differ in how relations such as ‘child’ are classified. (4)      

Southern Pomo (Walker 2020) ʔa:t̯ o yaʔčʰowa ‘I do not want it’ ʔa:t̯ o ʔi:šan ‘my arm’ ʔawi:kʰe ka:wiya ‘my children’

(pat) inalienable possession (pat) alienable possession (ben)

In Eastern Pomo (McLendon 1975), the cognates of the inalienable possessives (her “Set I”) are restricted to certain kinship terms but are distinct from the inherited possessives for core kin vocabulary (§ 4.3). (5)      

Eastern Pomo (McLendon 1975) wi q’a:lalmaya ‘I got sick’ wi-bayle ‘my husband’ wa-x ka ‘my house’

(pat) “inalienable” possession (pat) “alienable” possession (gen)

O’Connor (1996, 2007) gives a detailed discussion of possessor ascension (also called “external possession”) in Northern Pomo, whereby a body part receives patient rather than oblique marking under specific semantic and pragmatic conditions. In particular, the oblique possessive is typical when the body part is considered separate from the person, whereas patient case is preferred when the possessor is primary. (6)            

Northern Pomo (O’Connor 1992: 268) a. miʔ ʔe:-nam k’edi pʰit̯ ’a   you.obl hair-spec good appear   ‘your hair looks nice’ b. mit̯ o ʔe:-nam k’edi pʰit̯ ’a   you.pat hair-spec good appear   ‘you look nice with that hairstyle’

Mithun (2020c) argues that benefactive and patient-case pronouns in Central Pomo primarily mark the affectedness of a participant, and from which possession can be inferred. Thus, a sentence that would often be translated as ‘it stung his mouth’ is better seen as ‘it stung him in the mouth’. In Southeastern Pomo, /-it̯ / is ‘inalienable possession’ and /-it̯ -baq/ is ‘alienable possession’; it seems likely that the latter sequence of suffixes is related to /-it̯ ib/ ‘benefactive’ (Moshinsky 1974: 99). Note that in Eastern Pomo, the genitive takes the forms /-bax/ and /-x/, so that in both languages the /ba/ element may historically be separate from a /q/ or /x/ marking (alienable) possession and may also be related to the /b/ in the Southeastern benefactive.

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49.4.3 Kinship terms McLendon (1973) reconstructs 20 roots in a special class of kinship terms, which stand out among nouns in their highly structured morphology. For example, in Kashaya ‘father’s father’ has the root /ba:/ and occurs in forms such as ba:-s’e-t̯ o ‘my/our grandfather (pat)’, mi-ba:-s’e-ʔna ‘where your (sg./pl.) grandfather is’, and ma-ba:-s’e-yi ‘with his/her/their own grandfather’. Note the lack of distinction for number or gender. Like other terms for older relatives, it has a reduplicated stem for informal first-person possession: ba:ba-t̯ o ‘my grampa (pat)’, ba:ba-t̯ o-ʔna ‘where my grampa is’, and vocative ˈba:ba without a suffix but with the first-syllable stress that characterizes vocatives in many languages. In most of the languages, these roots take possessive prefixes that are distinct from the usual possessive pronouns. These Kashaya examples illustrate possession with the kinship root /ki/ ‘older brother’ versus the simple nouns hayu ‘dog’ (alienable) and šahku ‘leg’ (inalienable). Subject case is unmarked in these forms except in the first-person kinship, where it is the suffix /-n’/. (7)                  

Kashaya possessives (Oswalt 1961: 118)   Kinship Alienable 1st sing. ʔa:-ki-n’ kʰe hayu 1st plur.   yaʔkʰe hayu 2nd sing. mi-ki miʔkʰe hayu 2nd plur.   mayaʔkʰe hayu 3rd sing. masc. miya:-ki mu:kin’kʰe hayu 3rd sing. fem.   ma:daʔkʰe hayu 3rd plur.   ma:čaʔkʰe hayu 3rd coreferential ma-ki t̯ iʔkʰe hayu

Inalienable t̯ o šahku yal šahku mit̯ o šahku mayal šahku mu:kit̯ o šahku ma:dal šahku ma:čal šahku t̯ it̯ o šahku

As seen for Kashaya, kinship terms do not mark the number or gender of the possessor (except by optional additional pronouns). They indicate first, second, or third person, and in the last category distinguish whether the possessor is coreferential with the subject of the main clause (see § 6.3). Special kinship morphology survives in Southeastern Pomo, but considerably altered thanks to the deletion of pre-tonic vowels. For example, a prefix /m-/ is associated with kinship terms more generally, including in first-person forms though not in vocatives (Moshinsky 1974: 102–103). It most likely represents a reinterpretation of possessive prefixes that started with this consonant, in particular second-person */mi-/ and third-person coreferential */ma-/.

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49.5 Verb morphology 49.5.1 Instrumental prefixes Twenty instrumental prefixes, which identify the body part or other instrument used to perform an action, or some other involvement of that instrument, can be reconstructed (McLendon 1973; Oswalt 1976). Thus */du-/ indicates an action by the finger, or something that happens to a finger. Quite specific meanings can arise by combining a prefix with a root that has a fairly general meaning, such as Eastern /-da-/ ‘force open, expose, generally by interrupting the enclosing surface’. All instrumental prefixes in Pomoan are from a basic */CV-/ structure, although individual languages may show deletion or lengthening of the vowel. (8)              

Eastern Pomo (McLendon 1975: 41–56) /di:-da-/ ‘(watermelon) fall and shatter; hand be cut by sharp object slipping’ /du:-da-/ ‘cut finger accidentally; split open with fingernail’ /ka:-da-/ ‘cut open with knife’ /ma:-da-/ ‘cut foot by stepping on glass’ /mu:-da-/ ‘(overripe melon) split open by itself’ /pʰi:-da-/ ‘break open with axe, etc.’ /qa:-da-/ ‘tear loose by biting; cut paper with scissors’

The original contrasts among prefixes survive best in Kashaya, Northeastern, and Eastern; introduction of a new prefix in Southern has shifted the meanings of several others, but they are also well attested. Some prefixes are merged in Northern due to the collapse of */u/ into /i/ in pretonic position; greater merger occurs in Central, since */i/ and */u/ are completely lost in the prefixes, and this can then affect the remaining initial consonant of the prefix, which undergoes some mergers. In Southeastern, which lost all pretonic vowels, the original prefixal consonant is often best seen as part of a reanalyzed verb stem (Moshinsky 1974: 48).

49.5.2 Reduplication Reduplication – the copying of one or two syllables of a verb stem – occurs in all the languages, mainly with a meaning of repetition or plurality. In Southeastern, it can more specifically indicate a repeated action that results in completion, as in /mte-mte-/ ‘pat down with the hands’, or plurality, as in /ʔna-ʔna-/ ‘one to tie several up’ (Moshinsky 1974: 47–48). In Kashaya, the iterative copies one syllable and indicates a few short repetitions: /pu-hṭʰe-/ ‘spread in the wind’, /pu-hṭʰe-hṭʰe-/ ‘flap in the wind’; while the frequentative copies two syllables and indicates repetition in quick succession: /šu-hwen-šu-hwe:n-/ ‘shake repeatedly’ (Oswalt 1961: 155–157, 176). The two are often

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related in plural formation as well: /šuhla-hla-/ ‘one be shiny’, /šuhla-šuhla-m-/ ‘several be shiny’. Reduplication is also found as a recurrent pattern in nouns, but it is more idiosyncratic and normally an inherent part of the lexical item. Examples are Southeastern ṭ’un-ṭ’un ‘mole’, ʦilik-ʦilik ‘swallow’ (Moshinsky 1974: 45), and Kashaya s’uʔnu-ʔnu ‘huckleberry’, biye:-ye ‘sunflower’ (Buckley 1994: 273). It is more systematic in some kinship terms, as mentioned in section 4.3; Kashaya /ba:-ba-/ ‘my father’s father’ is one of a set of ten similar forms such as /pe:-pe-/ ‘my father’ and /ka:-ka-/ ‘my mother’s mother’.

49.5.3 Plurality Verbs are widely marked for the plurality of the absolutive participant – that is, the patient or agent of an intransitive verb, and the patient of a transitive verb. More broadly, the plurality may derive from the nature of the event, since repeating the same action on a single object leads to plural marking as well (see especially Mithun 1988a and O’Connor 1992). Some verbs have unrelated stem forms in singular and plural, such as Central /čano:n/ ‘one is talking’, /lowač’/ ‘several are talking’. A prefix containing /l/ plus a copy of the vowel in the root syllable can be reconstructed to the proto-language; it occurs in Eastern as well as the Southern Group, but with relatively few verbs and always preceded by an instrumental prefix. Examples include Kashaya /da-č’u:-/ ‘break one in half with the hands’, /da-lu-č’u:-/ ‘break several in half’, and Eastern ka:-xa: ‘cut once’, ka:-la-x ‘cut more than once’ (with deletion of the original vowel in the root /-xa-/). Most often, however, plurality is marked by suffixation. In descriptions of most of the languages, there are several plural markers that have different meanings: Central /-ma/ for collective agency versus /-t(a)/ for multiple events (Mithun 1988a: 524–526), and Southeastern plural participant /-y/ as well as dual /-tta/, a category not found in the other languages (Moshinsky 1974: 71–72). In Kashaya, many presumed prior distinctions have collapsed into a set of synonymous allomorphs that are partly conditioned by the preceding consonant, such as /-aq/ and /-ataq/ that occur after /l/ (Oswalt 1961: 167–177). Some affixes such as /-ta/ are infixed before a non-coronal stem-final consonant, otherwise suffixed: /qašoq-/ ‘several get well’, /diṭ’an-ta-/ ‘bruise several by dropping’ (see Buckley 2000). Similar plural allomorphs are found in Southern (Walker 2020: 188–194), and infixation of /-ta/ also occurs in Northern (O’Connor 1992: 59).

49.5.4 Aspect Characteristic verb marking in Pomoan emphasizes aspect (referring to the internal structure of an activity) such as perfective (completed) versus imperfective (ongoing) (Oswalt 1990). This can be contrasted with languages that mainly indicate tense, or the location of an activity in the future, present, or past. The languages have numerous

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suffixes that mark aspect of various kinds, including imperfectives that convey durative and habitual meanings (see especially Mithun 1990b). All the languages have cognate suffixes that mark imperfective or durative, containing */d/ or */l/; perfective or semelfactive (for an action performed once), containing */k/; and stative (for an ongoing state), containing */m/. Kashaya verbs can add all three suffixes to yield different meanings. (9)      

Kashaya (Oswalt 1990: 46) ʔdo-m‘hold the hand out’ (stat) ʔdo-m-či‘put the hand out’ (stat-pfv) ʔdo-m-či-med- ‘keep putting the hand out’ (stat-pfv-dur)

Often, where a single imperfective suffix indicates an ongoing action, a second imperfective can convey habitual action. (10)      

Central Pomo (Mithun 1990b: 63, 71) ča:no-w ‘vocalize; sing’ (pfv) ča:no-:n ‘talk’ (ipfv) ča:no-:d-an ‘habitually talk’ (ipfv-ipfv)

Many of the languages also have various means of indicating tense that may include other components as well. For instance, Kashaya has a future suffix /-ʔkʰe/ that is quite common and can also occur in contexts that suggest an irrealis meaning for an action that has not happened yet; a similar overlap exists in Central. Northern has a suffix /-e/ that indicates “present relevance” and can refer to events that are occurring, or have just occurred, so that it is not a simple present tense marker (O’Connor 1992: 41).

49.5.5 Evidentials All the Pomoan languages have evidential suffixes or clitics that indicate the source of information reported by the speaker (McLendon 2003); they vary in number across the languages, although all have at least three.5 Meanings include hearsay or quotative, inferential reasoning, and direct witness by sight or other means. The systems are most complex in the Southern Group (Mithun 2020a; Oswalt 1986a). (11)      

Eastern Pomo (McLendon 1975: 87–100) ʦ’eʦ’e-nk’e ‘I feel something sticking me’ xa na:pʰo-:le ‘they lived (I heard tell)’ ʦa:rʔi-ne ‘it must be clean’

(non-visual perception) (hearsay) (logical inference)

5 Evidence for Northeastern remains uncertain, though a possible such suffix is listed by Walker (2016b: 96).

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Some evidentials are largely cognate across the family (though not in Eastern), such as a hearsay including the string /do/ and a visual or direct experience with the basic form /ya/.

49.5.6 Directionals All the languages (again with uncertainty for Northeastern) include a class of morphemes that indicate the direction of movement, often in a highly systematic set. For example, Southern includes /-mač/ ‘in, away from speaker’ and /-ok/ ‘out, toward speaker’ when the speaker is outside, versus /-mok/ ‘in, toward speaker’ and /-ak/ ‘out, away from speaker’ when the speaker is inside (Walker 2020: 205). In most languages they are suffixes, but in Eastern and Southeastern the suffixes are outnumbered by elements that precede the verb (Moshinsky 1974: 55–62; McLendon 1975: 133–135; Halpern 1982). Locative-directional marking is a feature of the Northern Hokan languages among which Pomoan has been classified (Jany 2017: 279–280). A few directionals have extended uses that relate to the local geography. In Kashaya, two suffixes combine the meanings ‘out’ and ‘to the north or west’, while two others mean ‘in’ alongside ‘to the south or east’. This correlation likely originated in the fact that the Gualala River, which runs through Kashaya territory, flows northwest along the coastline and then turns abruptly to empty into the Pacific Ocean (Oswalt 1976: 23). The other Western languages display an opposite association, with ‘in’ as ‘north’ and ‘out’ as ‘south’, which may in turn relate to the southerly flow of the Russian River.

49.6 Syntax 49.6.1 Constituent order The most common ordering of phrasal constituents in all the Pomoan languages appears to be subject–object–verb, or SOV. The strongest generalization is for the verb to be final in the clause; example (12b) shows a final verb in the main clause as well as in the complement clause. (12)            

Southeastern Pomo (Moshinsky 1974: 108, 113) a. wiy bxe mdoqat   we deer killed   ‘we killed the deer’ b. ʔuyi [ ʔa ba ʦ’indo ]  nunya   he   I  subj did   said   ‘he said [ that I did it ]’

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In at least some of the languages arguments can follow the verb. In Kashaya, subordinate clauses are strictly verb-final (Olsson 2010); in main clauses the verb need not be final, but deviations are sometimes explicitly marked. A non-final verb suffix /-e:/ occurs on evidential and modal verbs when another element follows in the clause, and a clitic /=ʔ/ occurs at the end of an imperative sentence when the verb is not final (Oswalt 1961; Buckley 2015). The relative ordering of the subject (agent) and object (patient) is freer and generally depends on pragmatic factors; for example, Central is mainly SOV but the patient may be initial as the focus or topic, or after the verb as repeated information (Mithun 1993a).

49.6.2 Case marking The Pomoan family is well known for case marking that does not follow common notions of subject (for intransitive and transitive verbs) versus object (only for intransitive verbs). Instead, the most relevant notions are agent and patient (McLendon 1978; Mithun 1991, 2008; O’Connor 1992). Patterns like this have sometimes been called “fluid-S systems” (Deal & O’Connor 2010), but in Pomoan this label is misleading, as the categorization is not restricted to intransitives or subject (S) arguments. In particular, core arguments can be marked with either agent or patient case, depending on factors such as those discussed below. Northeastern again stands apart and does not have the same case marking: the inherited agent/patient system has been recast as nominative/ accusative (Walker 2016a), as also found in its eastern neighbors, the Wintuan languages. Although the use of these case markers has not been thoroughly studied in all the languages, generally speaking agent case is used for participants viewed as being in control of the situation, and patient case for those who lack control and are affected by it. Certain verbs can occur with either case, depending on the nature of control or intention. (13)    

Central Pomo (Mithun 1991: 518–520) ʔa: mat̯ ʼém ‘I stepped on it (intentionally)’ (agt) ṱo: mat̯ ʼém ‘I stepped on it (accidentally)’ (pat)

(14)    

Eastern Pomo (McLendon 1978: 3) há: c’e:xélka ‘I am sliding’ (agt) wí c’e:xélka ‘I am slipping’ (pat)

Patient case indicates the speaker is taking the perspective of that referent, and this can correspond to greater expressiveness if the patient case is chosen for a verb of internal experience on the part of the speaker. By contrast, the agent case suggests an unusual detachment from personal involvement in the experience. (15)    

Northern Pomo (Deal & O’Connor 2010: 186) ʔa: diṭʰale ‘I am/was sick’ (agt) : simple statement of fact ṱo: diṭʰale ‘I am/was sick’ (pat) : said with dismay

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Since use of patient case depends on an expression of empathy by the speaker, certain verbs can occur with two patient-case or two agent-case arguments (Mithun 1991: 523). Many languages have passive structures in which an object is promoted to a subject, as when English she ate the apple becomes the apple was eaten. The Pomoan languages are characterized by non-promotional passives that do not create a new subject in this way. They may relate instead to topic structure; for instance, Central Pomo /-(y)a/ indicates that “the agent of a clause is not the topic”, contrary to the most common choice of topic (Mithun 1988b: 42). In Northern Pomo, related /-ya/ is similar in that there is no expression of a subject argument (O’Connor 1992). As discussed by O’Connor & Maling (2014), the analysis of patterns like this can depend strongly on the author’s overall theory of language structure and function.

49.6.3 Coreference The four Western languages (with the root /ṱi/), as well as Eastern Pomo (/hi:/), have third-person pronouns that require coreference with the subject of the immediate or higher clause; O’Connor (1992: 285) calls these non-clause-bounded reflexives. They are similar in function to logophoric pronouns, where “special elements are found in complements of verbs of speech” (p. 313) – in particular, a special pronoun that indicates the subject of the verb of speaking refers to the same person as a participant stated in the reported speech. In Pomoan, however, these elements can occur in broader contexts. In this example from Kashaya, the coreference is not with the subject of the embedded verb ‘kill’ but with the higher verb ‘hear’. (16)      

Kashaya (Oswalt 1964a) mul šoʔ ʔima:ṱa ʔem [ ṱi-ṱo this heard woman the.agt   3.coref-pat ‘the womani heard [ they were going to kill heri ]’

pʰak’um-ʔkʰe ]  kill-fut  

If it were a different female referent as the object of ‘kill’, the regular pronoun /ma:dal/ ‘her’ would be used. The meaning ‘kill herself’ would be expressed by a reflexive suffix /-ič’/ on the verb. The possessive prefix */ma-/ found in kinship terms (§‎4.3) has the same essential function of coreference. (17)    

Kashaya (Oswalt 1964a) mahṭʰel cahqaw ‘theyi showed it to theiri (own) mother’ miya:ṭʰel qʰadeʔ ‘theyi went to get hisj mother’

Mithun (1990a) shows for Central that these pronouns can also be used in reference to a participant who is not named in the sentence, but with whom the speaker empathizes by taking that point of view. There are no reports of coreferential pronouns in

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Northeastern (perhaps due to limited documentation) or Southeastern (due either to loss from the proto-language, or introduction of the distinction after Southeastern had split off).

49.6.4 Switch reference An additional property related to coreference across clauses is the switch reference system found throughout the family (though not currently reported for Northeastern). These are suffixes that mark a dependent verb for whether its subject or agent is the same as the corresponding argument of another verb, most often that of the main clause (Oswalt 1983). The suffixes may distinguish whether the events are simultaneous or sequential, and whether they have occurred (realis) or have not yet occurred (irrealis). These pairs of sentences illustrate sequential realis marking, with same and different subjects. (18)            

Eastern Pomo (McLendon 1978: 7) a. ha: kaluhu-y si:ma: merqaki:hi   I went.home-ss.seq sleep lay.down ‘I went home and then went to bed’ b. ha: kaluhu-qan mi:p’ merqaki:hi   I went.home-ds.seq he lay.down ‘I went home and then he went to bed’

(19)            

Southern Pomo (Walker 2020: 254) a. ča:du-ba daʔṱʼa-w     look-ss.seq find-pfv     ‘hei looked and (hei) saw’ b. ʔa:ʔa ʔač:a ča:du-ka-:li daʔṱʼa-w   I inside look-caus-ds.seq find-pfv   ‘Ii let himj look inside and hej found it’

The Pomoan languages often deploy suffixes of this general category in ways that are sensitive to questions other than identity of reference across clauses. O’Connor (1983) shows that supposedly “different subject” suffixes in Northern can have the same reference depending on the larger semantic context. Mithun (1993b) argues that in Central, the identity of subject or agent is secondary to the primary purpose of indicating whether the clauses are construed as describing aspects of a single event.

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49.7 Revitalization and orthographies There are revitalization efforts in place for a range of Pomoan languages, many led by members of the local tribes. As a simple example, I belong to a Facebook group for those interested in all the Pomoan languages, mainly tribal members. Most of the posting activity involves Central, Northern, and Southern; less so Kashaya and Southeastern. There are, however, also members interested in Eastern6 and Northeastern. Kashaya and Southeastern may be less represented on this forum because they host in-person language classes. The Kashia Band of Pomo Indians of Stewarts Point Rancheria holds a monthly class at which at least two native speakers are generally present. I have worked with the Kashia Band, and have created a website of Kashaya resources including links to the Webonary dictionary site, various word lists, and two Android apps for language learning.7 The Southeastern Pomo similarly hold regular classes (through the Koi Nation), and there is a searchable dictionary of vocabulary at Berkeley with about a thousand recordings from members of the Elem Indian Colony.8 Alex Walker worked formerly with the Dry Creek Rancheria Band of Pomo Indians. That Southern Pomo class lasted from 2011–2014, and then was revived in 2016–2017 by remote video after Alex had moved away; but the 2017 fire that ravaged Santa Rosa brought this to an end. Still, there are some former students who have mastered considerable vocabulary. Cathy O’Connor of Boston University is working with several Northern Pomo groups on their language and has created a website that includes a dictionary and other resources.9 She and other linguists have collaborated with the Redwood Valley Rancheria to organize two weekend language camps (Ko, et al. 2019). Distinct orthographies exist for the different languages. The notation used in this chapter is essentially the same as that in Walker (2020), with explicit marking of the two sorts of /t/ and a colon for vowel length, except that /c/ is used there for what I write as /ʦ/. Other orthographies vary along these lines as well. Oswalt (1961) has /t/ for the dental stop and /ṭ/ for the alveolar and uses /c/ for what I write here as /č/. He writes /·/ for vowel length, as do most linguists, except that Mithun’s earlier work uses a doubled vowel. Moshinsky (1974), McLendon (1975), and O’Connor (1992) have /c/ for /ʦ/. Some later work, such as Mithun (1988a, et seq.) and Deal & O’Connor (2010), has /ṱ/ for the dental and plain /t/ or explicit /ṭ/ for the alveolar. Most of the other aspects of pronunciation are fairly consistently transcribed in the literature. As we move to practical orthographies, a stronger influence of English spelling comes into play. Perhaps the most standardized is Southeastern Pomo, where /č/, /š/ are 6 See http://cimcc.org/epomo/ for a searchable dictionary. 7 See http://https://www.ling.upenn.edu/~gene/kashaya.html and https://www.webonary.org/kashaya/. 8 See http://linguistics.berkeley.edu/~sepomo/ with many audio files, mainly from Loretta Kelsey. 9 See https://northernpomolanguagetools.com/, which includes many phrases as well as words.

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usually written ch, sh. In a nod to the interdental pronunciation of the fricative in thing, the dental stop is written th. Some other highlights include the digraphs ee, oo for /i/, /u/, and u for the inserted schwa vowel, based on short u in English. There is no distinctive aspiration in Southeastern Pomo, so the need to add an h to digraphs like ch, th does not arise. In Northern Pomo, one strategy for dealing with aspiration is to use j for unaspirated /č/, and ch for the aspirated version of this sound, based on the usual English distribution of surface aspiration. The Northern Pomo online dictionary adopts this approach, and also has ts for the alveolar affricate. The online dictionary of Eastern Pomo largely uses g, k for /k/, /kʰ/, as well as a doubled vowel for length. For most of the languages, non-linguists have created a variety of transcriptions to suit their purposes.

49.8 Conclusion The seven Pomoan languages demonstrate strong resemblances across many aspects of linguistic structure, despite divergences by individual languages in a variety of ways. The most distinctive of the languages is Southeastern, which split off first from the rest of the family. A different sort of outlier is Northeastern, which was geographically isolated from the other languages and shows clear signs of influence due to contact with non-Pomoan languages. It is also the least well understood, however, so more points of similarity may be come to light as work on its description continues.

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Deal, Amy Rose & Catherine O’Connor. 2010. The perspectival basis of fluid-S case-marking in Northern Pomo. In Suzi Lima (ed.), Proceedings of SULA 5: Semantics of Under-Represented Languages in the Americas, 173–188. Amherst, MA: Graduate Linguistic Student Association. Dixon, Roland B. & Alfred L. Kroeber. 1913. New linguistic families in California. American Anthropologist 15. 647–655. Golla, Victor. 2011. California Indian languages. Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press. Goodman, Beverley. 1992. Implications of Pomo epenthesis for a theory of syllabification. Chicago Linguistic Society [Parasession on the syllable in phonetics and phonology] 26(2). 143–157. Halpern, Abraham M. 1964. A report on a survey of Pomo languages. In William Bright (ed.), Studies in Californian languages, 88–93. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 34). Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press. Halpern, Abraham M. 1982. Southeastern Pomo directionals. In James E. Redden (ed.), Proceedings of the 1981 Hokan-Penutian Languages Conference, 53–63. Carbondale, IL: Department of Linguistics, Southern Illinois University. Halpern, Abraham M. 1984. Southern Pomo h and ʔ and their reflexes. Journal of California and Great Basin Anthropology Papers in Linguistics 4. 3–43. Jany, Carmen. 2017. The Northern Hokan area. In Michael Fortescue, Marianne Mithun & Nicholas Evans (eds.), The Oxford handbook of polysynthesis, 260–283. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kaufman, Terrence. 2006. Hokan languages. In Keith Brown (ed.), Encyclopedia of language and linguistics, 365–372. 2nd edn. Amsterdam: Elsevier. Ko, Edwin, Julia Nee, Catherine O’Connor & Erica Carson Jr. 2019. Blended language learning in a language revitalization context. Paper presented at the SSILA Summer Meeting, University of California at Davis, July 13. Langdon, Margaret. 1979. Some thoughts on Hokan with particular reference to Pomoan and Yuman. In Lyle Campbell & Marianne Mithun (eds.), The languages of Native America: Historical and comparative assessment, 592–649. Austin: University of Texas Press. McLendon, Sally. 1969. Spanish words in Eastern Pomo. Romance philology 23(1). 39–53. McLendon, Sally. 1973. Proto-Pomo. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 71). Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press. McLendon, Sally. 1975. A grammar of Eastern Pomo. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 74). Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press. McLendon, Sally. 1976. The Proto-Pomo pronominal system. In Margaret Langdon & Shirley Silver (eds.), Hokan studies: Papers from the First Conference on Hokan Languages, held in San Diego, California, April 23–25, 1970, 29–53. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. McLendon, Sally. 1978. Ergativity, case, and transitivity in Eastern Pomo. International Journal of American Linguistics 44(1). 1–9. McLendon, Sally. 2003. Evidentials in Eastern Pomo with a comparative survey of the category in other Pomoan languages. In Alexandra Y. Aikhenvald & R. M. W. Dixon (eds.), Studies in evidentiality, 101–129. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. McLendon, Sally. 2006. Pomoan languages. In Keith Brown (ed.), Encyclopedia of language and linguistics, 748–753. 2nd edn. Amsterdam: Elsevier. McLendon, Sally & Robert L. Oswalt. 1978. Pomo: Introduction. In Robert F. Heizer (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians. Vol. 8: California, 274–288. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution. Mithun, Marianne. 1988a. Lexical categories and number in Central Pomo. In William Shipley (ed.), In honor of Mary Haas, 517–537. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Mithun, Marianne. 1988b. The “passive” in an active language. In James E. Redden (ed.), Proceedings of the 1987 Hokan-Penutian Languages Workshop and Friends of Uto-Aztecan Workshop, 39–45. (Southern Illinois Occasional Papers on Linguistics 14). Carbondale, IL: Department of Linguistics, Southern Illinois University.

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Mithun, Marianne. 1990a. Third-person reference and the function of pronouns in Central Pomo natural speech. International Journal of American Linguistics 56(3). 361–376. Mithun, Marianne. 1990b. The role of lexicalization in shaping aspectual systems. In James E. Redden (ed.), Proceedings of the 1990 Hokan-Penutian Languages Workshop and Friends of Uto-Aztecan Workshop, 62–74. (Southern Illinois Occasional Papers on Linguistics 15). Carbondale, IL: Department of Linguistics, Southern Illinois University. Mithun, Marianne. 1991. Active/agentive case marking and its motivations. Language 67(3). 510–546. Mithun, Marianne. 1993a. Prosodic determinants of syntactic form: Central Pomo constituent order. Berkeley Linguistics Society 19, [Special session on syntactic issues in Native American languages]. 86–106. Mithun, Marianne. 1993b. “Switch-reference”: Clause combining in Central Pomo. International Journal of American Linguistics 59(2). 119–136. Mithun, Marianne 1999. The languages of Native North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mithun, Marianne. 2007. Grammar, contact, and time. Journal of Language Contact 1(1). 144–167. Mithun, Marianne. 2008. The emergence of agentive systems in core argument marking. In Mark Donohue & Søren Wichmann (eds.), The typology of semantic alignment, 297–333. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mithun, Marianne. 2020a. Context and consciousness: Documenting evidentials. In Karolina Brzech, Eva Schultze-Berndt & Henrik Bergqvist (eds.), Knowing in interaction: Empirical approaches to epistemicity and intersubjectivity in language. Special issue of folia Linguistica 2020. 54.2, 317-342. DOI: https://doi. org/10.1515/flin-2020-2045. Mithun, Marianne. 2020b. Prosody and the organization of information in Central Pomo, a California indigenous language. In Heliana Mello, Shlomo Izre’el, Tommaso Raso & Alessandro Panunzi (eds.), In search of basic units of spoken language: A corpus-driven approach, 107–126. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Mithun, Marianne. 2020c. Topicality, affectedness, and body-part grammar. In Roberto Zariquiey (ed.) The grammar of body parts. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Moshinsky, Julius. 1974. A grammar of Southeastern Pomo (University of California Publications in Linguistics 72). Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press. Moshinsky, Julius. 1976. Historical Pomo phonology. In Margaret Langdon & Shirley Silver (eds.), Hokan studies: Papers from the First Conference on Hokan Languages, held in San Diego, California, April 23–25, 1970, 55–75. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. O’Connor, M.C. 1983. Does Northern Pomo have switch-reference? An examination of interclausal syntax and semantics. M.A. thesis, University of California, Berkeley. O’Connor, M.C. 1992. Topics in Northern Pomo grammar. [Garland Series of Outstanding Dissertations in Linguistics]. New York: Garland Publishing. O’Connor, M.C. 1996. The situated interpretation of possessor raising. In S.Thompson & M. Shibatani (eds.), Grammatical constructions: Their form and meaning, 125–156. Oxford: Oxford University Press. O’Connor, M.C. 2007. External possession and utterance interpretation: A crosslinguistic exploration. Journal of Linguistics 45(3). 577–613. Catherine O’Connor & Joan Maling. 2014. Non-promotional passives and unspecified subject constructions: Navigating the typological Kuiper Belt. In Stacey Katz Bourns & Lindsy L. Myers (eds.), Perspectives on linguistic structure and context: Studies in honor of Knud Lambrecht, 17–38. John Benjamins. Olsson, Bruno. 2010. Subordinate clauses in Kashaya Pomo. Stockholm University MA thesis. Oswalt, Robert L. 1958. Russian loanwords in Southwestern Pomo. International Journal of American Linguistics 24. 245–247. Oswalt, Robert L. 1961. A Kashaya grammar (Southwestern Pomo). Berkeley, CA: University of California dissertation. Oswalt, Robert L. 1964a. Kashaya texts. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 36). Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press.

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Oswalt, Robert L. 1964b. A comparative study of two Pomo languages. In William Bright (ed.), Studies in Californian languages, 149–162. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 34). Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press. Oswalt, Robert L. 1964c. The internal relationships of the Pomo family of languages. Actas y memorias del XXXV Congreso Internacional de Americanistas (Mexico, 1962), vol. 2. 413–427. Oswalt, Robert L. 1975. K’ahšá:ya cahno kalikakʰ (Kashaya vocabulary). (Working Paper No. 32, Kashaya Language in Culture Project). Sonoma, CA: Department of Anthropology, California State College. Oswalt, Robert L. 1976. Comparative verb morphology of Pomo. In Margaret Langdon & Shirley Silver (eds.), Hokan studies: Papers from the First Conference on Hokan Languages, held in San Diego, California, April 23–25, 1970, 13–28. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Oswalt, Robert L. 1977. The Hokan word for ‘tongue’: The Pomo evidence. University Museum Studies 11. 69–78. Carbondale, IL: University Museum, Southern Illinois University. Oswalt, Robert L. 1983. Interclausal reference in Kashaya. In John Haiman & Pamela Munro (eds.), Switch reference and universal grammar: Proceedings of a symposium on switch reference and universal grammar, Winnipeg, May 1981, 267–290. (Typological Studies in Language 2). Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Oswalt, Robert L. 1986a. The evidential system of Kashaya. In Wallace L. Chafe & Johanna Nichols (eds.), Evidentiality: The linguistic coding of epistemology, 29–45. (Advances in Discourse Processes 20). Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Oswalt, Robert L. 1988. The floating accent of Kashaya. In William Shipley (ed.), In honor of Mary Haas, 611–621. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Oswalt, Robert L. 1990. The perfective-imperfective opposition in Kashaya (with comparative comments on Southern Pomo and Pomoan). In James E. Redden (ed.), Proceedings of the 1990 Hokan-Penutian Languages Workshop, 43–51. (Southern Illinois Occasional Papers on Linguistics 15). Carbondale, IL: Department of Linguistics, Southern Illinois University. Oswalt, Robert L. 1998. Three laryngeal increments of Kashaya. In Leanne Hinton & Pamela Munro (eds.), Studies in American Indian languages: Description and theory, 87–94. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 131). Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press. Sapir, Edward. 1917. The position of Yana in the Hokan stock. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 13(1). 1–34. Shepardson, Rebecca. 2008. A study of tonal distinctions in Northern Pomo. Boston, MA: Boston University MA thesis. Vihman, Eero. 1976. On pitch accent in Northern Pomo. In Margaret Langdon & Shirley Silver (eds.), Hokan studies: Papers from the First Conference on Hokan Languages, held in San Diego, California, April 23–25, 1970, 77–83. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Walker, N. Alexander. 2016a. Assessing the effects of language contact on Northeastern Pomo. In A.L. Berez-Kroeker, Diane M. Hintz & Carmen Jany (eds.), Language contact and change in the Americas: Studies in honor of Marianne Mithun, 67–90. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Walker, N. Alexander. 2016b. A working lexicon of the Northeastern Pomo language. Ms., Western Institute for Endangered Language Documentation. http://wieldoc.org/?page_id=528 (accessed 29 November 2018). Walker, N. Alexander. 2020. A grammar of Southern Pomo. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press. Webb, Nancy. 1971. Statement of some phonological correspondences among the Pomo languages. International Journal of American Linguistics 37(3), supplement Part II. 157–174. Whistler, Kenneth W. 1988. Pomo prehistory: A case for archaeological linguistics. Journal of the Steward Anthropological Society 15(1–2). 64–98.

Carmen Dagostino

50 California languages: Isolates and other languages Abstract: California has long been known for its linguistic diversity and for pitfalls in trying to genetically classify the vast number of its indigenous languages. The difficulty of grouping these languages genetically stems from the longstanding small-scale multilingualism whereby languages enjoyed equal status, language ideologies linked language use to the land, and speakers were multilingual due to frequent intermarriage and trade relations among close neighbors. Although two large linguistic stocks, Hokan and Penutian, were proposed early in the 20th century to establish linguistic ancestry, many languages are still considered isolates, as it remains difficult to distinguish resemblances due to long-standing language contact from those attributed to genetic relationship. This chapter covers seven putative Hokan languages (Chimariko, Shastan, Yana, Atsugewi, Achumawi, Esselen, and Salinan) and six presumed Penutian languages (Wintuan, Maiduan, Yokutsan, Klamath, Miwokan, Ohlone), as well as two Yukian languages (Yuki and Wappo) and two Algic languages (Yurok and Wiyot). While other chapters in this volume are based on a single language family, the present chapter deals with languages spoken in a geographically contiguous area where several structural similarities stem from language contact rather than genetic affiliation. Several typologically interesting features present in these languages are highlighted, such as their complex sound inventories, patterns in core argument marking, lexical affixing structures, and argument tracking, among others. While many languages are currently dormant, their linguistic vitality shows a promising outlook. Several are now awakening, reinforcing the fact that language revitalization work can rest on archival sources.

50.1 Introduction California was known as one of the most linguistically diverse regions in the world with 78 separate languages spoken in pre-contact times (Golla 2011:1). This extraordinary linguistic diversity is attributed to a well-established socio-political situation of smallscale multilingualism where no overarching hierarchical political structure was joining the different groups (with some exceptions, see Bean and Blackburn 1976). Therefore, no power or prestige relationships existed among the languages. Golla describes the groups as “tiny but independent societies, typically numbering no more than a few hundred individuals” (2011:1). Each group preserved its language or dialect, given that language ideologies defined “language boundaries as unalterable natural features inherent in the land rather than as negotiable social facts reflecting (potential) tribal or national units” (Golla 2011:1). Language use was linked to specific geographic locations. Mithun https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-050

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(2018:210) notes that “people typically spoke the language of the community they were in, as a courtesy to their hosts”, thus describing the prevalent multilingualism in the area. Neighboring groups were in close contact through trade and intermarriage resulting in both personal and areal multilingualism1; relationships with more distant groups were practically non-existent. Given this scenario, it is not surprising to find language convergence among close neighbors. In fact, California partly overlaps with a widely accepted linguistic area in which many areal features cut across genetic boundaries. In particular in Northern California language convergence is apparent in geographically contiguous areas (Bright 1973, Conathan 2004, Sherzer 1973, Haas 1976, Mithun 2007, 2008, 2010, 2012, Haynie 2012, Hill 2019). Mithun (2008, 2010, 2012, 2020) illustrates the effects of language contact in shaping grammar. She focuses on features that are often deemed unborrowable and describes how patterns of structure are being borrowed without borrowing the actual forms. This then results in extensive structural parallelism. The status of Northern California as a linguistic area is believed to be robust based on similarities among unrelated languages, as in phoneme inventories, numeral systems, consonant symbolism, reduplication, and pre-verbal tense/aspect/mood marking, among others (see Haas 1976 and Sherzer 1973). Haynie (2012), however, questions this assumption and (re-)examines presumed areal traits. She observes that many areal features have a patchy distribution and further occur in neighboring regions (Haynie 2012:128). Upon applying spatial autocorrelation and statistical analyses Haynie questions the validity of a single Northern California linguistic area and concludes that the “actual scales and locations of these features rarely coincide with the traditional boundaries of Northern California” (Haynie 2012:134). Instead, she proposes Northern California to be more accurately described as “a collection of micro-areas or a peripheral subregion of the Northwest Coast” (Haynie 2012:134). Among the features Haynie studied for areal distribution are several phonological traits, such as specific sound contrasts. Jany (2009) and Mithun (2012) also link sound inventories and patterns in sound structure to language contact in California, which can be problematic when trying to find evidence for genetic relationships, as recurrent sound correspondences lie at the core of establishing genetic membership. Researchers have long tried to group the indigenous languages present in California genetically. In 1913 Dixon and Kroeber introduced proposals for remote genetic relationships among a number of California languages based on just five presumed cognate sets and several structural similarities. They put forward two linguistic stocks: Hokan and Penutian. The first proposals included Karuk, Chimariko, Shastan, Pomoan, Yana, Esselen, and Yuman in the Hokan stock and Ohlone, Miwok, Maiduan, Yokuts, and Wintuan for Penutian (Dixon and Kroeber 1913a and 1913b). Extensive work followed

1 Shaul (p.c.) notes that high-frequency vocabulary items marked local speech as distinctive ethnic markers while mutual intelligibility over a wider area than the territory of a given local group was maintained. He cites the Costanoan dialect chain as an example. For more information, see Shaul (2017).



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throughout the 20th century and beyond with several expansions, corrections, and reformulations (see Grant 2014, 2018; Jany 2013, 2016 for references). The early Hokan proposals centered on languages in Northern California. Later classifications included languages further south and all the way to Nicaragua. Overviews of Hokan proposals and relevant references can be found in Golla (2011), Haynie (2012), Jany (2013, 2016, 2017), Kaufman (1988), and Mithun (1999), among others. Golla (2011) devotes a separate section of his volume to the discussion of how each Hokan-affiliated language fits into the genetic unit. Many languages associated with this genetic classification are typologically polysynthetic and share several grammatical features (Jany 2017). The Penutian proposals were equally focusing on a number of Northern and Central California languages with many researchers zeroing in on binary comparisons, which was also the basic approach for studying Hokan. Mithun (2018:199) summarizes the outcomes of the proposals as including 171 stem resemblances between two or more languages, some with proposed sound correspondences and phonological changes, in addition to structural similarities. Proof for smaller subgroupings within the genetic unit, such as Plateau Penutian (including Sahaptian, Cayuse, Klamath-Modoc, and Maiduan) and Yok-Utian (including Yokuts and Miwok-Ohlone), seems to be stronger. General discussions of Penutian and relevant bibliographies are found in Golla (2011), Grant (2014, 2018), Haynie (2012), and Mithun (1999). The presumed Penutian languages and language families covered in this chapter are Wintuan, Maiduan, Yokutsan, Klamath-Modoc, Miwokan, and Ohlone. A century after the original proposals, the Hokan and Penutian stocks remain problematic and are often representative of the pitfalls in establishing distant genetic relationships. The major challenges in finding supporting evidence for these groupings lies in the difficulty distinguishing between language contact features and true cognates, the availability of limited and partly unreliable data, and the temporal distance of the proposed genetic units. More recently, Haynie (2012, 2014, this volume), applied newly developed computational methods to test the Hokan and Penutian proposals. Although her results showed support for the well-established families within the two genetic units, Haynie did not find any significant evidence for similarities among Hokan and Penutian languages at a deeper level. In fact, Haynie concludes that her study projects further uncertainty about these deep genetic classifications (Haynie 2014)2. Nevertheless, such doubts have not prevented researchers from using these stocks in linguistic typology and other fields (Haynie, this volume), and the debate is ongoing. Mithun (2018:198) affirms that deep genetic relations “cannot simply be proved or disproven” as “evidence may be strong, weak, somewhere in between, or lacking”. They can only be determined and assessed based on the evidence available. One of the reasons for the difficulty establishing deep genetic relationships among California indigenous languages is that many languages are dormant or only have a 2 Work by Shaul on Esselen and Salinan (2019 and 2020, respectively), based on a collective/plural infix -l- or -t- as an inherited irregularity, contradicts Haynie’s conclusions.

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handful of elderly native speakers; as a result, most researchers are working with archival materials. Such materials are sometimes limited: they were collected decades ago from semi-fluent speakers and lack reliable sound recordings and data from everyday conversation, which is crucial for understanding linguistic structure. New and additional data is currently only being collected for a very small number of California languages. The bulk of data available stems from documentation work in the 20th century. A very detailed account of the first anthropologists and linguists to collect data on the various languages appears in Golla (2011). Among the most notable researchers are Alfred Kroeber, Edward Sapir, and John P. Harrington. Harrington especially collected an immense amount of data on a large number of California languages, some of which are being used in language revitalization efforts. While it has been difficult to access the Harrington collection and other original data in the past, many materials are now available and searchable online, in particular at the Survey of California and Other Indian Languages housed at the University of California at Berkeley (https://cla.berkeley. edu), as well as at other archives (see Spence, this volume). As Golla (2011:58) points out: “the speed with which the full extant documentation of a given California language can now be retrieved, searched, and factored into new research gives current work a scholarly breadth and historical context that were impossible in previous generations”. Many communities and descendants are working with archival resources to awaken their languages through school programs and other models (see Lukaniec, this volume). The next section briefly discusses the languages covered in this chapter, their proposed genetic affiliation and areal distribution, as well as their linguistic vitality and current revitalization efforts. This is followed by a review of several typological highlights in section 3 and some remarks on revitalization efforts in section 50.5.

50.2 California languages The languages covered here include seven putative Hokan languages: Chimariko, Shastan, Yana, Atsugewi, Achumawi3, Esselen, and Salinan and six presumed Penutian languages: Wintuan, Maiduan, Yokutsan, Klamath-Modoc, Miwokan, Ohlone, as well as two Yukian languages: Yuki and Wappo and two Algic languages: Yurok and Wiyot. The reason for including these languages is that they are spoken in geographically contiguous areas and exhibit several structural similarities stemming from language contact rather than from genetic affiliation. Other putative Hokan languages covered separately in this handbook (i.  e. Karuk, Washo, Pomoan, and Yuman) are not treated here. California languages classified as Athabaskan, Uto-Aztecan, or Chumashan are also omitted from this chapter, as they are introduced in other chapters of this volume. 3 The same as with Hokan and Penutian, the Palaihnihan grouping including Achumawi and Atsugewi has been called into question (see Nevin 2017) and, therefore, they are listed as separate languages here.



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Tab. 1: California languages covered in this chapter Language

Genetic affiliation

Variants

Linguistic vitality

Chimariko

Isolate (Hokan)

– New River Chimariko (Chimalakwe) – Trinity River Chimariko – South Fork Chimariko

Dormant

Achumawi

Palaihnihan (Hokan)

– Pit River (nine dialects)

Obsolescent and ­awakening

Atsugewi

Palaihnihan (Hokan)

– Hat Creek and Dixie Valley (two dialects)

Dormant

Yana

Isolate (Hokan)

– Northern Yana – Central Yana – Southern Yana

Dormant

Shastan

Family with four ­languages (Hokan)

– Shasta (proper) – Konomihu – New River Shasta – Okwanuchu

Dormant/Awakening

Esselen

Isolate (Hokan)

– Huelel/Esselen

Dormant

Salinan

Isolate (Hokan)

– Antoniano dialect – Migueleño dialect

Awakening

Wintuan

Family with two to three languages (Penutian)

– Northern Wintuan: Wintu – Northern Wintuan: Nomlaki – Southern Wintuan: Patwin

Awakening

Maiduan

Family with four ­languages (Penutian)

– Konkow – Chico Maidu – Mountain Maidu (Maidu) – Nisenan

Awakening

Yokuts

One language with many dialects (Penutian)

– Poso Creek – General Yokuts (Buena Vista and Nim-Yokuts)

Obsolescent/ Awakening

KlamathModoc

Isolate (Penutian)

– Klamath – Modoc

Awakening

Miwokan

Family with five ­languages (Penutian) (Utian)

– Western Miwok: Coast and Lake Miwok – Eastern Miwok: Bay, Sierra, and Plains Miwok

Obsolescent/ Dormant

Ohlone ­(Costanoan)

Family with eight languages or dialects (Penutian) (Utian)

– Karkin – San Francisco Bay Costanoan: Chochenyo, Ramaytush, Tamyen – Mutsun-Awaswas: ­Awaswas, Mutsun – Rumsen – Chalon

Awakening

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Tab. 1 (continued) Language

Genetic affiliation

Variants

Linguistic vitality

Yukian

Family with two ­languages

– Wappo – Northern Yukian (Yuki, Huchnom, and Coast Yuki)

Dormant

California Algic

Family with Algonquian4 and two California ­languages

– Yurok – Wiyot (Soulatluk)

Awakening

Given the controversial deep genetic classifications (Hokan and Penutian), many of the languages highlighted in this chapter are considered linguistic isolates. In fact, Golla (2011) considers most of the Hokan languages covered in his book as “isolates within Hokan”. Campbell (2018:1) defines a linguistic isolate as “a language that has no known relatives, that is, that has no demonstrable phylogenetic relationship to another language”. Language isolates are language families with only one member; related languages may have disappeared. They are not the same as unclassified languages, for which there is not enough data data to establish if there are any relatives (see Campbell 2018:4, Mithun 2018:193, and Zamponi, this volume). For language isolates, on the other hand, there is enough data available for comparison to other languages, but no linguistic kinship can be established. For some California languages, this distinction may be opaque given the quality and quantity of the materials collected. Mithun (2018:217) finds that isolate status is not “an either/or matter”, but that there are degrees of the quality and quantity of materials available. The mutual intelligibility between variants determining whether they are separate languages or dialects and how likely similarities occur due to chance and language contact are further factors. Mithun (2018:218) concludes that “there is no proof of isolate status: we can only surmise that there is insufficient evidence for positing relationships to any other languages”. Campbell (2018) and Mithun (2018) list the following languages covered in this chapter as isolates: Chimariko, Esselen, Yana, Salinan, and Klamath-Modoc, as well as Washo and Karuk treated in other chapters. Mithun (2018) examines the reasons for the large number of isolates in North America and finds that this phenomenon can be attributed to poor data and closed corpora, the continuum between dialects and languages and the difficulty in assessing mutual intelligibility of dormant languages, and the potentially deep language contact (Mithun 2018:193). Isolates make up 39 % of all the language families of the world’s linguistic diversity (Campbell 2018:11) and are therefore not rare. No specific linguistic features are linked to isolate status. Mithun (2018:193) states that “isolate status does not entail particular structural characteristics inherent to the language itself: it is more about their potential relatives”. In California, many of the fea4 See Oxford, this volume.



California languages: Isolates and other languages 

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tures believed to account for genetic affiliation have turned out to be likely the result of longstanding contact (Mithun 2018). Haynie (2012) studied a number of phonological and morphological areal features commonly associated with Northern California, some of which are highlighted in section 35. The languages treated here all occur in geographically contiguous areas and are, therefore, likely to exhibit many similarities due to language contact. The map in Figure 1 illustrates this geographic area extending from Central to Northern California.

Fig. 1: Map of languages covered illustrating geographic contiguity (Source: Handbook of North American Indians, v. 8, Washington: Smithsonian Institution)

5 For areal features related to Central California, see Golla (2011) and Shaul (2014).

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Tab. 2: Essential bibliography and recent publications Language

Pages in Golla (2011)

Recent major publications (after 2011)

Chimariko Achumawi Atsugewi Yana Shastan Esselen Salinan Wintuan Maiduan Yokuts Klamath-Modoc Miwokan Ohlone (Costanoan)

p. 87–90 p. 96–98 p. 98–100 p. 100–102 p. 90–94 p. 112–114 p. 114–117 p. 140–147 p. 136–140 p. 147–156 p. 133–136 p. 156–162 p. 162–168

Yukian Yurok Wiyot

p. 188–194 p. 65–68 p. 62–65

–  Nevin (2019) –  –  Sarmento (2021) Shaul (2019) Shaul (2020) Lawyer (2015, 2021) for Patwin Anderson (2014) for Mountain Maidu –  Durpis (2019) on Klamath revitalization Callaghan (2014) for Proto Utian Shaul (2017) for Ausaima Callaghan (2014) for Proto Utian Warner et al. (2016) for Mutsun Balodis (2016) for Yuki Garrett (2014) – 

Table 2 presents the sources used for each language. While Golla (2011) includes an essential bibliography for the languages treated in this chapter up to 2011, there are more recent relevant publications on some of the languages. Overall, the languages discussed here are dormant or have only a handful of elderly first-language speakers. Several language revitalization efforts are underway resulting in an increasing number of awakening languages. Some are presented in section 50.4. For more details on the linguistic vitality of each language see Golla (2011) and the more recent publications in Table 2.

50.3 Grammatical topics This section presents several distinctive characteristics of the languages. Some have also been widely discussed as areal features (Bright 1973, Sherzer 1973, Jacobson 1967, Haas 1976, Langdon and Silver 1984, Mithun 2007, 2008, 2010, 2012, Haynie 2012) since they cut across genetic boundaries and exhibit convergence among neighboring languages. In particular, features that might be useful in language revitalization efforts are introduced.



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50.3.1 Sound systems and phonological processes Phonemic inventories of California languages are very diverse, ranging from smallsized to larger ones. For instance, while Mutsun and Esselen only have 19 and 18 consonantal phonemes, respectively (Golla 2011, Shaul 2020), Chimariko shows 33 phonemic contrasts in the consonants (Jany 2009:15). A few languages include a voicing distinction for their plosives (Maiduan and Wintuan), while others do not. California languages are often associated with complex consonant series. One of the complexities involves the phonemic contrast between plain, glottalized and aspirated stops. This occurs in eight of the languages (see Table 3). Achumawi, Yana, Salinan, Yokutsan, Klamath-Modoc, Yukian, and Yurok also include glottalized nasals, laterals, or approximants. Yana, Shastan, Maiduan, and Yurok only feature a contrast between plain and glottalized consonants, while Wiyot is only contrasting plain and aspirated plosives. Miwok demonstrates that phoneme inventories can arise due to language contact, given that Lake Miwok shows a contrast between plain, glottalized, and aspirated consonants, while other Miwokan languages do not (Callaghan 1963:20; Golla 2011:205; Mithun 2018:211).  

Lake Miwok (Callaghan 1963:20)

Stops       Affricates

plain aspirated glottalized voiced plain

p pʰ p’ b

t tʰ t’

 

glottalized

Fricatives

 

(f) (ɵ)

s

Nasals Approx.

   

m w

n l

d c c’

ṭ6 ṭʰ ṭ’   č  č’ λ’ ṣ ɫ

k  kʰ k’ (g)

Sierra Miwok (Freeland 1951; ­ roadbent 1964; Golla 2011: 161) B Ɂ 

p

t

ṭ

č

h

(r) j

s m w

n l

š y 

k 

Ɂ 

 

 

 

h 

ŋ   

   

Fig. 2: Lake Miwok versus Sierra Miwok phoneme inventory

Back apical (alveolar, postalveolar, or retroflex) and back velar (postvelar or uvular) stops are widespread (Golla 2011:205; Haynie 2012; Langdon and Silver 1984), sometimes appearing in neighboring but unrelated languages. Back apical stops occur in Esselen (only in the Eastern dialect, see Shaul 2019), Salinan, surrounding Penutian 6 In the original source the dot underneath the letter represents a retroflex sound. The original source rather than the IPA is represented in Figure 2.

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languages, and Yukian, while being absent in other languages of the proposed Hokan grouping. All languages have at least one sibilant fricative and most have a voiceless velar fricative. A large number of California languages distinguish between a front and a back sibilant, again cutting across genetic boundaries. Other interesting features include voiceless lateral fricatives in Wintuan, Wiyot, Yurok, a voiceless lateral approximant in Klamath-Modoc, as well as a palatalized lateral in Mutsun. Wiyot and Yurok include a distinction between plain velars and labiovelars. Shastan, Miwok, and Ohlone feature contrastive consonant length. Tab. 3: Prominent phonemic contrasts Language

Stop series

Back apical stops

Back velar stops

Sibilants at two places of articulation

Yurok Wiyot Chimariko Shastan Achumawi Atsugewi Yana Esselen Salinan Yukian Wintuan Maiduan Miwokan Yokutsan Ohlone Klamath

pl, glott pl, asp pl, asp, glott pl, glott pl, asp, glott pl, asp, glott pl, glott pl pl, glott pl, asp, glott pl, asp, glott pl, glott pl; pl, asp, glott* pl, asp, glott pl pl, asp, glott

    x          x  x  x      x  x  x   

    x    x  x          x    x      x 

x  x  x    x  x    x  x  x      x  x  x   

pl = plain; asp = aspirated; glott = glottalized * Only in Lake Miwok

Vowel systems tend to be simple with five distinctive vowel qualities: a low vowel, two mid vowels, and two high vowels. Maiduan and Miwokan add a central vowel contrast and neighboring but unrelated Shastan and Klamath-Modoc only distinguish four vowel qualities. Yurok includes rhotacized vowels (Garrett 2014). Most languages have a phonemic vowel length contrast. Salinan only has phonetic vowel length (Shaul 2020). The sound systems are represented by a variety of symbols in the materials available. Such symbols are often not feasible for language revitalization. Helpful tables outlining and comparing the various symbols used by each collector and the symbols based on the international phonetic alphabet IPA (https://www.internationalphonetica ssociation.org/) are included in Mithun (1999) and Golla (2011:283–286). While ongoing documentation projects may employ such symbols for capturing differences in pronun-



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ciation, communities generally establish a standardized practical orthography for revitalization purposes (see Lukaniec, this volume). Such an orthography is essential to producing written pedagogical materials. Many decisions need to be made in this process; for instance, identifying practical symbols for each meaningful sound and how and if to represent certain phonological processes. Phonological processes may include ablaut (a sound change that indicates grammatical information), metathesis (a change in the sequence of sounds in a word) (e.  g., in Ohlone; see also Miller for Yuman, this volume), and pitch accent (whereby a prominent syllable is distinguished by pitch or tone) that appears in Achumawi, Shastan, Yukian, and Salinan. Ablaut, i.  e., changing the vowel or consonant of a stem as part of a derivational or inflectional process or to signal a change in meaning, is a common process in the region. It appears in almost all of the presumed Penutian languages (Yokutsan, Miwokan, Wintuan, Ohlone, Klamath-Modoc) and in Salinan (although it is rare in the latter, see Shaul 2020). (1)    

Yokutsan ablaut in Wikchamni Yokuts (Golla 2011: 2107) Verb stem forms for ‘to steal’: ʔu:šu-, ʔoš-, ʔuša:-, ʔušoVerb stem forms for ‘to doctor’: t’oyox-, t’uyix-, t’uyx-, t’oyo:x-

(2)      

Klamath ablaut (Barker 1963:483; also in Golla 2011: 210) Verb stem for ‘to bend, fold’: q’al’Verb stem for ‘to coil up’ (like a snake): čq’a:l’Verb stem for ‘to bend’ (intransitive): q’oliʔ-

Stress systems are generally described with some detail in the grammars. They also display similarities across genetic boundaries (Jany 2009:32). Some languages have weight-sensitive stress, i.  e., a system whereby certain syllables attract stress depending on their shape, while others exhibit root-based stress systems or penultimate stress. Reduplication (see 50.3.2) and sound symbolism (see 50.3.4) also occur frequently in the region.

50.3.2 Lexical categories and morphological processes It is best to describe lexical categories in terms of morphological processes of stems. The same root or stem often forms both nouns and verbs. Adjectives are generally derived from verbs (or are actually intransitive verbs), and a separate lexical category for adjectives may not be distinguished. While the presumed Hokan languages generally exhibit morphologically simple independent pronouns, the presumed Penutian languages often have case marking on pronouns. In general, Hokan affiliated languages mark the con7 See also the Wikchamni dictionary here: http://wikchamnidictionary.library.fresnostate.edu/ [accessed on 11/16/2020].

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stituents (i.  e., agents and patients or subjects and objects) of a clause on the verb (head marking), while Penutian languages follow a pattern of dependent marking with case markers on nouns and pronouns. For the most part, articles, adverbs, and copulas do not constitute prominent lexical categories, and similar functions are frequently represented by affixes and clitics.

50.3.2.1 Nominal and pronominal morphology Nominal and pronominal morphology includes number, case, and possessive marking, in addition to a distinction in specificity (e.  g., Wintuan generic versus particular aspect). Number marking on nouns is not very extensive in the region and mostly optional (except for Salinan, see Turner 1987). Singular nouns are unmarked, and plural marking occurs with humans and animates, in particular with kinship terms. Independent pronouns generally distinguish number, at least for first and second person. (3)        

Chimariko independent pronouns in singular and plural (Jany 2009:52)   Singular Plural 1 (‘I, me, we, us’) noɁot načʰitot 2 (‘you’) mamot mamqʰetot 3 (‘he, she, it, they, them’) pʰaɁmot

Plurality of participants in an event is normally marked on verbs (see 50.3.2.2). Plurality on both nouns and verbs appears in Salinan, which shows lexically specified plurals, as well as plurals formed by ablaut, infixation, reduplication, and suffixation (Turner 1987, Golla 2011:117). Plural suffixes in Salinan include -ten, -lax, and –neƚ. (4)        

Plural suffixes in Salinan (Turner 1987:94–105; also in Golla 2011:2148)   Singular Plural ‘frog’ wakiṭ wakiṭen ‘cedar’ keṭpoy keṭpoylax ‘acorn’ at atneƚ

Other processes used to form plurals include reduplication whereby a word or part of it is repeated. Reduplication is very common and appears in other California languages as well (see Henry, Buckley, and Miller, this volume for Chumash, Pomoan, and Yuman respectively), but it is more prominent with verbs (see 50.3.2.2). Nominal and pronominal core case marking appears in most languages of the Penutian group. The pattern is nominative-accusative, i.  e., an alignment in which subjects

8 Following Shaul (2020) and by p.c. for ‘frog’, the plural would be better translated as ‘lots of frogs’. For ‘acorn’, the primary meaning of the suffix -nel is ‘again’, and the example for ‘cedar’ involves a collective/ plural infix -l-.



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of intransitive and transitive clauses are marked differently from objects in transitive clauses. With the exception of Maiduan and Miwokan, the nominative case (subject) is unmarked. For overviews of core case marking in Penutian see Golla (2011:211–213). (5)        

Northern Sierra Miwok pronominal case marking (Callaghan 1987: 104–105, 152, 277; also in Golla 2011:213)   Subject Object First person (‘I, me’): kanniʔ kanniy Second person (‘you’): miʔ mi:niy Third person (‘s/he, it’): ʔissakïʔ ʔissakkoy

(6)      

Maiduan nominal case marking (note: nominative case marked, see Shipley 1964)   Subject Object ‘coyote’ wépam wépa ‘mountain’ yamánim yamáni

Core case marking also occurs in Yukian languages. In Yuki, nouns describing humans and non-humans constitute two different categories. Semantic role distinguishing agents and patients determines case marking; the same as in neighboring Pomoan (see Buckley, this volume). Only nouns representing humans are marked as patients (with some exceptions). Agents are unmarked. The affected person in a three-argument clause is indexed with a dative case; the same form appears in possessives (Balodis 2016:106–113). (7)        

Patient marking in Yuki (Balodis 2016:100) ˀímeymil hulk’óˀi pilą́ :tą ˀim=mil hulk’oˀi piląt=ą say=fin Coyote sun=pat ‘[…] Coyote said to the sun’

Possession is indexed either on the head noun, which is the possessed, or on the possessor, which is the dependent. There is often a distinction between alienable and inalienable possession. Body parts generally count as inalienable possession, while objects (e.  g., inanimate entities) are alienable. Kinship terms can fall in either category. (8)      

Alienable versus inalienable possession in Chimariko (Jany 2009:72) čʰ-uweš huweš-ˀi 1sg.poss.inalien-horn horn-1sg.poss.alien ‘my horn’ (deer says) ‘my horn’ (Frank says)

The shapes of the possessives case markers are sometimes similar or identical to the forms of the pronominal affixes on verbs. In Chimariko, the shapes of the possessives and the pronominal affixes are identical, with the exception of the third person suffixes (Jany 2009). Possessed nouns can be marked for person and number of possessors, as in Northern Sierra Miwok.

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Northern Sierra Miwok possessives (Callaghan 1963:20; Golla 2011:161) ‘my house’ koca-ṭ ‘our house’ kocaʔ-mas ‘your sg. house kocaʔ-nï ‘your pl. house’ kocaʔ-mok ‘his/her house’ kocaʔ-sï ‘their house’ kocaʔ-ko

Achumawi, Atsugewi, and Shasta mark possession on the possessor. In Shasta, the possessive suffix -əʹHtu appears on nouns and pronouns (Silver 1966:184, 201). Achumawi adds a possessive suffix –ú to nouns (Angulo and Freeland 1930:83). In Yana, possession can also be marked via possessive demonstratives or the third person possessor particle k(i) (Sapir and Swadesh 1960:11). (10)        

Yana possession (Sapir 1923:273, 266) dju wa’wi k‘i dā’t‘i dju wa’wi k‘-i dā’t‘i 2.dem.poss house 3.poss-obj child ‘your house’ ‘her child’

Oblique cases, such as locative, comitative, instrumental, and benefactive are very common. They surface as suffixes (Chimariko, Shastan, Yana, Maiduan, Wintuan, Miwok, Ohlone, Yokuts), enclitics (Achumawi, Atsugewi), or as postpositions (Chimariko). (11)      

Shasta locative case marking (Silver 1966:186) tú·rustukú-c·uˀ inside.basket-abl ‘from inside the basket’

(12)      

Chimariko comitative case marking (Jany 2009:72) ˀuwela-i-owa boy-poss-com ‘together with my boy’

Wintu exhibits an unusual and interesting distinction between particular and generic aspect. This is marked on nouns and pronouns as a suffix –h or by devoicing the final consonant of the stem. (13)      

Wintu generic and particular nouns (Lee 1944; also in Golla 2011:146) Particular Generic č’epkax ‘a bad person’ č’epkal ‘a bad thing, wrongness’ seh ‘one hand, finger’ sem ‘hands’

The pronominal system in Wintuan is quite complex. Patwin (Lawyer 2015) includes case marking, number marking (singular, dual, and plural), inclusive and exclusive first-person plurals, and a distinction between distal and proximal in the pronominal system. The Wintuan pronoun system resembles that of Klamath (DeLancey 1987). While only some languages exhibit elaborate nominal and pronominal morphology, all languages covered in this chapter have complex verbal morphologies.



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50.3.2.2 Verbal morphology Verbal morphology represents an intricate component of the grammar with many interesting inflectional and derivational processes. Argument indexing, lexical affixes, reduplication and the marking of plurality in events, and evidentials are highlighted here. These processes are further rendered complex by fusional morphology, i.  e., markers that phonologically merge with the word or stem, and the fact that multiple categories or meanings are expressed in a single marker. This makes it difficult at times to disentangle individual meanings and separate markers from their hosts. Such complexity appears in Achumawi, Atsugewi, and Shastan. Simpler verbal morphologies occur in Ohlone and Western Miwokan languages. Some of the features linked to Hokan languages are their argument tracking on verbs (i.  e., head-marking) and polysynthesis, i.  e., the large number of categories marked on the verb. As with case marking on nouns, some languages show a nominative-accusative pattern (e.  g., Yana), while others follow an agent-patient system (e.  g., Chimariko). Each language has a unique system and exhibits a one-of-a-kind cluster of features. Either one or two core arguments are overtly marked on the verb as affixes. One overtly-marked core argument appears in Chimariko, Yana, and Shastan. In these three languages, a hierarchy based on person, number, and topicality determines which core argument is indexed on the verb. The hierarchies and rankings vary from language to language. Yana first and second person outrank third person, and violations of the hierarchy are dealt with by obligatory passivization, so when a third person acts on a first or second (‘he chased me’ or ‘he chased you’) a passive construction is used (‘I was chased’ or ‘you were chased’). Mithun (2008, 2010, 2012) examines areal patterns and possible diffusion of agentive and hierarchical systems and demonstrates how they cut across genetic boundaries. (14)        

Yana hierarchical system 3sg > 2 sg = 2 sg (Sapir 1923:277) ībaak’áp-si-wa-ˀnu pull.up-tam-pass-2sg ‘He will pull you up.’

2sg > 1 sg = 1sg (Sapir 1910:184) tʰípk’u-wà:-č say-pass-1sg ‘You say to me.’

(15)        

Yana obligatory passivization 1sg > 3sg = 1sg (Bright 1957:147) hoxpadablaucui-si-ndža hit.in.the.eye-tam-1sg ‘I hit him in the eye.’

3sg > 1sg = 1sg + -wa (Bright 1957:147) baxpaadablaucui-si-wa-ndža hit.in.the.eye-tam-pass-1sg ‘He hit me in the eye.’

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Some languages encode arguments in discontinuous marking as prefix-suffix combinations, such as Achumawi, while others display multiple meanings in single markers, as in Shasta. (16)      

Prefix-suffix combinations in Achumawi (Angulo and Freeland 1930:90) h-ám˙-î˙-má9 k-ám˙-î˙-tská 1pl.incl.ind-eat-v-1pl.incl.ind 3/2-eat-v-3/2 ‘He ate you’ ‘We eat’

(17)        

Shasta grammatical marking: portmanteau prefixes (Silver 1966:116–7) Hortative Volitional Potential tá-hu˙sáˀ t’á-hu˙sáˀ s-áhu˙sáˀ 1.sg.hort-talk 1.sg-talk 1.u-talk ‘Let me talk!’ ‘I will talk’ ‘I might talk’

In Salinan, there is a distinction between active and transitive clauses in which the active verb is marked by a prefix p-, and stative and intransitive clauses are marked by a verbal prefix k-. Subjects are indexed as enclitics or independent pronouns, and objects surface as suffixes. (18)      

Salinan argument indexing (Turner 1987; also in Golla 2011:117) p-šik’ay-ka=heyoʔ k-ekoł=heʔk act-kick-2sg.obj=3sg.subj stat-hungry=1sg.subj ‘He kicked you.’ ‘I am hungry.’

Complex derivational processes to create new verb stems are widespread in the region. In fact, most languages show a similar pattern whereby they express means and manner verb-initially and direction and location verb-finally, either by affixation (e.  g., instrumental prefixes and locative/directional suffixes) or a type of compounding known as a bipartite stem. Bipartite stems represent an intermediate stage between compounding and affixing in which ‘two interdependent elements of roughly equal lexical status fuse in a polysynthetic unit’ (Golla 2011:216). Mithun (2007, 2010, 2018) examines these patterns and illustrates how they appear in neighboring yet unrelated languages. Chimariko, Achumawi, and Atsugewi display instrumental prefixes, while Yana, Klamath, and Maiduan show a bipartite stem structure.

9 A raised dot following a sound represents vowel and consonant length of the preceding sound, respectively.



(19)              

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Bipartite stem structure in Yana: means and manner (Hinton 1987:8–9) lai‘hard round object lies’ lui- ‘hit with rock, hard round object’ po‘handle hard round object’ pi‘rocks lie’ mi‘wood lies’ me- ‘handle wood’ mil‘hit with wood’ ho- ‘do with long object, stick’ cu‘long object moves, is handled’     ho-k’aw- [do with long object] – [cut, break] ‘to cut or break off using a stick, knife, etc.’ po-t’an[hit with round, hard object] – [crack, mash] ‘to pound out (nuts) with rock’

Means and manner or instrumental prefixes and stem combinations with similar meanings also occur in Karuk, Chumashan, Pomoan, Yuman, and Washo (see Mithun 2010, 2018, Henry this volume, Miller this volume, Garrett et al. this volume, Bochnak et al this volume), but they are not observed in all languages. They are lacking in Shastan, Wintuan, Esselen, Salinan, and Yokuts (Mithun 2018:211), although Esselen, has some instrumental-like verb prefixes, as in tu-/to- ‘with hand/fingers’ (Shaul 2019:123–124). Pomoan, Washo, and Yuman all show a bipartite stem structure. Similarly, many languages possess large sets of directional and locative meanings encoded verb-finally. Shasta features directional and locative suffixes, some of which may co-occur, that encode meanings such as ‘downstream, out of a container, across, in liquid, downward, outward’, among others (Silver 1966:144–152). (20)      

Chimariko directional suffixes (Jany 2009:135) ye-čuču-tap-mu-n hiṭiytew 1sg.a-dodge-dir(out)-dir(hither)-asp fence ‘I dodged, I jumped over the fence.’

(21)    

Shasta directional suffixes (Silver 1966:144–152) -učč’i-wa:k‘fall into the water’ -učč’i-čw-a:ʔa:-kaká-wa:k- ‘drag something into -ehe-:nu-čwthe water’

y-uc’uˀ-tamu-n 1sg.a-jump-dir-asp

‘fall off of something’ ‘shoot up into the air off of something’

Multiple locative suffixes may also co-occur in Yana. In fact, each stem in the bipartite structure can take locative suffixes. Other languages also show directional meanings encoding direction based on landscape, such as downstream, upstream, downhill, and uphill. Similar suffixes with a locative or directional meaning also appear in Achumawi, Atsugewi, Yana, Maidu, (see also Garrett et al. this volume for Karuk), and as prefixes in Klamath, as well as in Washo and Pomoan (see Bochnak this volume, Buckley this volume). However, they are absent from other California languages, such as Wintuan, Yuman, Yokuts, Chumashan, and Yukian (Mithun 2018:212). The California Algic languages Yurok and Wiyot show a tripartite verb structure with an initial (root) element and medial and final suffixes, as found in Algonquian lan-

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guages (see Oxford, this volume). The initial element describes a general action or direction, while the medial component denotes a classificatory meaning (including bodyparts) and the final component has a grammatical function and signals the thematic class (Golla 2011: 218). In Yurok, for instance, the medial suffixes include three types: subject classifiers, body parts, those identifying a basic event (Proulx 1985). (22)                        

Yurok medial suffixes (Garrett 2004:48–49) (a) Subject classifiers     -op- ‘water’     kaam-op-e‘be rough water’ (initial kaam- ‘bad’)   skew-op-e‘be calm water’ (initial skew- ‘good’) (b) Body parts     -e’wey- ‘face’     mewol-e’wey-e‘wipe one’s eyes’ (initial mewol- ‘wipe clean’)   s’oop-e’wey-ete‘hit (someone) in the face’ (initial s’oop- ‘be hit’, trans. final -ete-) (c) Verbal event     -o’r- ‘run’     him-o’r-epe‘run quickly’ (initial him- ‘fast’, final -epe- ‘self-oriented activity’)   raay-o’r-epe‘run past’ (initial raay- ‘along, past’, final -epe‘self-oriented activity’)

Noun incorporation, a special kind of compounding in which a nominal and a verbal stem together form a new verb stem, appears in several languages with varying degrees of productivity. In Chimariko, noun incorporation is used for body parts and locations. (23)        

Noun incorporation in Chimariko (Jany 2009:127) hiṭawiˀmut hičʰemta hiṭamtu h-iṭa-wiˀmu-t h-ičʰe-mta h-iṭa-mtu 3-hand-take-asp 3-say-prog poss-hand-inst He took his hand telling him (to go home); he led him by the hand’

As Mithun (2007) shows, the patterns of lexical affixation and compounding in some of the languages covered in this chapter represent different stages in the grammaticalization process from independent word to lexical affix, as well as different outcomes. Such patterns could have spread in the region through language contact and crystallized from frequently-occurring expressions. Number is not always marked only on nouns (Mithun 1999:83). It can also occur with verbs quantifying different aspects of events, such as multiple participants or multiple instances of an event (see also Henderson, this volume). Sometimes this occurs at the lexical level through reduplication, which is by repeating the root or stem partially or entirely to create a new one (see Urbanczyk, this volume). This process is more or less productive in California. In Chukchansi (Collord 1968:34) reduplication is used to indicate repeated action.



(24)        

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Reduplication in Chukchansi Yokuts (Collord 1968:34–35) k’et’k’et’eɁ ‘to scrape clean’ c’amc’ameɁ ‘to mash all up’ c’owc’uw ‘to drip, drip’ wilwil/welwil ‘to pump’

In Patwin (Laywer 2015, 2021) reduplicated verb stems may indicate multiple instances of one event or a single event involving repetitive action. (25)            

Reduplication in Patwin (Wintuan) (Lawyer 2015:76–77) k’obo·li‘to buy’ k’obo·k’obo·li- ‘to buy many things’ hupu·‘to dive’ huhupu·‘to dive repeatedly’ p’etʰi‘to hunt’ p’etʰip’etʰi‘to hunt frequently’

Similarly, in Yurok (Conathan and Wood 2003; Garrett 2001), event-internal repetition whereby an event has repeated internal phases is signaled via reduplication. (26)      

Reduplication in Yurok (Conathan and Wood 2003:22) menoot- ‘to pull’ menomenoot- ‘to keep pulling’ wa’apah ‘to lean’ waawa’apah ‘to lean more than one thing’ tekun‘to be stuck together’ tektekun‘to be stuck together in several places’

Reduplication in verb stems is also found in Wintu, Shasta, Chimariko, as well as in Pomoan, Yuman, Chumash, Karuk, and Washo. Similar pluractional distinctions also appear in Yuman (Miller, this volume). Salinan has been cited to have a complex system to encode multiple participants or multiple instances of an event, based on the following example. (27)        

Plural verb stems in Salinan (Mason 1918:23; Golla 2011:214) kaxota ‘a man hunts an animal’ kaxoten ‘a man hunts many animals’ kaxotota ‘many men hunt an animal’ kaxonilet ‘many men hunt many animals’

Following Shaul (2020:109), the gloss for the root in example (27) is kaxo- ‘hunt by smoking an animal out of its hole’. The infix -l-, used as a pluractional, and the suffixes -ten ‘again/lot of’ and -nel ‘also/again/a bunch of’ are then added to provide the plural meanings10. Plurality of events, i.  e., iteration can also be marked by infixation, as in Yurok. 10 Shaul (2020) notes that the pluractional use of the infix is rare.

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Yurok iterative with infix -eg- (Garrett 2014:60) chyuuk’wenek’ ‘I sit down’ chyeguuk’wenek’ nepek’ ‘I eat’ negepek’ saa’agochek’ ‘I speak Yurok’ segaa’agochek’

‘I frequently sit down’ ‘I frequently eat’ ‘I frequently speak Yurok’

Some languages feature a system of evidential markers that indicate the source of information as well as its reliability. This is only attested in a small number of the surveyed languages: Chimariko, Yana, Shasta, and Wintuan. Evidentials also occur in Pomoan (see Buckely, this volume). Chimariko does not have an elaborate system of evidentials. In fact, only three occur: one marking hearsay, an inferential, and a marker translated as ‘apparently’ (Jany 2009:120). Similarly, Patwin only counts with two forms each to encode hearsay and inference (Lawyer 2015, 2021).

50.3.3 Sentences and clause combining This section provides a brief overview of word order and clause-combining strategies. Since data from everyday conversation is generally not available for the surveyed languages and extensive text-based analysis is often not attainable, a thorough study of word order is not possible. Reported word orders include: no dominant order (Yokutsan, Miwokan, Wintuan), verb-final (Chimariko, Yukian), or verb-initial (Salinan). Clause-combining strategies often involve event cohesion resulting in systems that track subjects and topics between clauses whereby their continuity or discontinuity is indexed. This inflectional marking is called switch-reference (introduced by Jacobsen 1967). It appears in several central and northern California languages clearly spanning across genetic boundaries (Mithun 2020). It occurs in Salinan, Esselen, Maiduan, Yuki, as well as in Pomoan, Yuman, and Washo (see Buckely, Miller, and Bochnak et all in this volume, respectively). Sometimes, as in Yuki, the switch-reference marking also tracks events in a temporal dimension, determining whether events occur simultaneously, in sequence, or as a result of each other. The Yuki system includes clause-initial markers that track topics across clauses (Balodis 2016:367). Mithun (2012) illustrates how such a system could have spread areally through language contact. (29)                  

Yuki switch-reference and clause connectors (from Balodis 2016:368) Connector Meaning su current clause has a new or different topic than the previous clause są current clause has the same topic as the previous clause siką grammatical agent argument of the previous clause has become a grammatical patient argument in the current clause sop ‘but’; ‘and’; links coordinate clauses son ‘but’; links coordinate clauses som ‘however’; links coordinate clauses sik ‘then’ namlik(i) ‘and then’; ‘therefore’



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In Esselen switch-reference mechanisms vary. While the same-subject marker is a verb suffix, the different-subject marker is a conjunction (Shaul 2019). Most clause-combining strategies involve clause connecting affixes, adpositions, or enclitics linking events temporally or based on the participants and topics. There is little work on relative and complement clauses. Most often, relative clauses are linked to clausal nominalization (Jany 2011). They further tend to be headless or internally headed (see Thornes, this volume).

50.3.4 Other shared linguistic features The topics covered in this section relate to meaning and language use. They include sound symbolism, systems of counting, terms for family relationships, placenames, and social varieties. Sound symbolism refers to the (partial) representation of the meaning of a word by its sound or to a change in a sound that is associated with a particular meaning, such as a diminutive or an augmentative, i.  e., making something smaller or bigger, respectively. This process is very common in California (Nichols 1971). Diminutive affixes often involve an apical or palatal consonant, as in Miwokan (Golla 2011:223), and many include phonetic shifts. Phonetic shifts for consonants and vowels appear in Yana and Maiduan (Golla 2011:224). Sound symbolic diminutivization is an areal feature in California (Haynie 2012). Some languages encode further semantic categories such as augmentation, pitifulness (weakness and old age), and cessation (death or rupture). (30)        

Wiyot augmentative consonant symbolism: č – š – r + augmentative -ačk (Teeter 1959:41) tawí·paˀliɬ ‘rope’ čawí·paˀroɬačk ‘heavy cable’ laptóˀw ‘cloud’ lapčóˀyawačk ‘big cloud, cloud storm’

(31)    

Sierra Miwok pitifulness/cessation marking: -ššï- (Freeland 1951:161–2) čukú-ššu:-t ‘my former dog, the dog I used to have’ ʔamáčči-ššïʔ ‘our poor old grandmother’

(32)    

Shasta pitifulness/cessation marking -əpsi (Silver 1966:192–3) súk’k’axapsi ‘a pitiful boy, a bachelor’ yappúk’upsi ‘a bucket belonging to someone who is dead’

Other types of sound symbolism, such as onomatopoeia, i.  e., the imitation of sounds to create words for things that produce that sound, are also widespread. Golla (2011:228) notes this practice for the naming of birds. Sound symbolism and consonant diminutivization also occur in Yuman and Chumashan (see Miller and Henry, this volume, respectively).

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The counting systems represented in the numerals are very diverse ranging from decimal systems (based on ten), as in Yokuts and some Miwokan languages, to vigesimal systems (based on twenty), as in Sierra Miwok, Wintu, Shasta, Achumawi, and Yana. In the latter, many languages use the word for person as the number for twenty. Quarternary and octonary systems (based on 4 and 8 respectively) are found in Yukian and Salinan. Such systems stem from counting sticks held between the fingers instead of counting the fingers themselves (Golla 2011). Kinship terms often include two or more words for particular relations, one of which is the vocative form. There may be distinctions by gender or not, such as ‘child’ versus ‘son’ and daughter’ versus a ‘man’s son’, a ‘man’s daughter’, and a ‘woman’s child’, as in Mutsun. Paternal and maternal side relationships are frequently distinguished, such as ‘paternal grandfather’ versus ‘maternal grandfather’. Great-grandparents are described using the same terms as for grandparents, special terms, or by using sibling terms, as in Maidu. For siblings, there is generally a distinction in age, i.  e., ‘older brother’ versus ‘younger brother’. For a detailed account of kinship terminology see Gifford (1922). Place names are often analyzable in the surveyed languages and descriptive of the places they designate. Village names frequently derive from a natural feature that characterizes the place. Names for groups are formed based on the name of the village where the group lives. In some languages, distinctive forms are used for denoting the people of a village. In Hill Patwin, a suffix –sel occurs at the end of the village name, as in Tebti-sel ‘Tebti people’. Yuki, Miwok, and Yokuts have suffixes with a similar function (Golla 2011:221). Place names often reveal migration patterns and ancient sites, as well as other historic information and can be very important in language revitalization projects. Sociolinguistic variation has been little studied for the surveyed languages, given the nature of the materials available; although there are ways to recover this type of information from archival work (Spence, this volume). In Yana, there are two different registers, one for male speech and one for female speech. Golla (2011:227) states that this stylistic variation arises because Yana men were expected to speak to other men more formally than to women. The difference surfaces in the use of a determiner suffix, -na for men and -h for women. (33)    

Yana male and female register (Golla 2011: 102) yucʰay-na ‘acorn’ (male) yu:cʰayh ‘acorn’ (female) ya:-na ‘person’ (male) yah ‘person’ (female)

Linguistic variation and different registers also appear in relation to ceremonial language, shamanistic jargon, and the speech of certain characters in narratives, such as Coyote.



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50.4 Revitalization There are several ongoing revitalization efforts for the mostly dormant languages. Some languages have a handful of elderly first-language speakers, and multiple communities are creating a new generation of second-language speakers. Many communities work with archival data to create pedagogical materials and curricula for children and adults. Such materials can be challenging as they often lack language from everyday conversation, samples of different genres, sociolinguistic variation, vocabulary for a classroom environment and for new inventions, such as computers and phones, etc. Sound recordings are not always available making it difficult to determine the exact pronunciation of recorded sounds and words. In addition, data may be handwritten, stored in distant archives, and thus less accessible to communities. Nevertheless, more data has become accessible in recent years through digitizing and searchable web-based databases, such as the Survey of California and other Indian Languages: California Language Archive hosted by the University of California at Berkeley (https://cla.berkeley.edu/). Moreover, more emphasis is being given to capacity building, such as by Advocates for Indigenous California Languages Survival (https://aicls.org/) with their Breath of Life Institute and Master-Apprentice Program (MAP), the American Indian Language Development institute AILDI (https://aildi.arizona.edu/), and the National Breath of Life Archival Institute for Indigenous Languages, among others. These efforts are well received by communities as they can implement new techniques and build programs based on their needs. Dupris (2019) describes how the collaboration between AILDI and the Klamath Tribes led to a successful three-day immersion workshop in the community. Some of the same rules as in the Master-Apprentice program were applied during the workshop. They included a) no English to be used, b) the primary mode of transmission is to be oral, c) the activity itself provides the context for communication, and d) more experienced learners become mentors of others (Dupris 2019). New grammars and dictionaries are also being developed combining and synthesizing existing archival materials (and sometimes complementing it with new data), such as the recent Patwin grammar (Lawyer 2015, 2021), the recent Mutsun dictionary (Warner et al. 2016), or the community-oriented pedagogical Yurok grammar (Garrett 2014). Lawyer reports that Patwin is being learned by adults or in school as part of community-based language revitalization programs. He states that his grammar “is the latest addition to the creative output of the Yocha Dehe revitalization program, which has also produced phrasebooks, movies, games, and lesson plans” (Lawyer 2015:xx-xxi). One of the first steps in developing pedagogical materials for language revitalization involves the development of a practical orthography. When working with archival data, it can be difficult to understand the transcription systems used in the available materials, in particular for older documentation (see Lukaniec, this volume, for further references on that topic). Borhani (2011) surveys the materials available on the Maiduan languages and reports on the efforts to preserve and awaken the languages. For Maiduan, none of the existing orthographies used in the archival data have proven

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to be practical, and communities are developing their own standardized writing systems (Borhani 2011). Orthography development and other aspects of language revitalization often lead to ethical questions, including whether such an undertaking is an ethical endeavor in itself (Warner et al. 2007). Warner et al. (2007) discuss the roles and priorities of linguists and community members in revitalization projects, as well as intellectual property rights. They present examples from Mutsun revitalization and conclude that this undertaking is “a useful and legitimate application of linguistic knowledge” (Warner et al. 2007:73). Language revitalization based on archival materials is possible and is a common experience in California, as examples from Wiyot, Klamath, Wintuan, Maiduan, and Mutsun show (see also Spence, this volume, and Lukaniec, this volume). In fact, today efforts are underway in many communities to awaken and preserve languages through school programs and other models. As Borhani (2011:26) notes for Maiduan, “there is reasonable cause for hope in the number of opportunities currently available, combined with the determination and desire of community members to reclaim their language”. Yurok, for instance, has implemented a teacher training and credentialing program for Yurok language teachers, and Yurok classes are being offered at the high school level11.

50.5 Conclusions California has long been known for its linguistic diversity and for pitfalls in trying to genetically classify the vast number of its indigenous languages. The Hokan and Penutian proposals sparked a number of debates about distant genetic relationships with several expansions and reformulations throughout the 20th century and beyond. Nevertheless, it remains difficult to distinguish resemblances due to long-standing language contact from those attributed to genetic relationship12, and many are still considered isolates. This chapter focused on structural highlights in seven presumed Hokan languages and six languages or families classified as Penutian. It also surveyed two Yukian languages and two California Algic languages. The typologically interesting features discussed reveal areal distributions that suggest language convergence among neighboring languages resulting from small-scale multilingualism. Most notable are the complex consonant inventories, lexical affixing and compounding patterns, unique core argument marking systems, plural marking on verbs, event cohesion through subject and topic tracking, sound symbolism, and fascinating systems of counting and family relationships, among others.

11 See the 2021 Breath of Life Symposium video for more information (BOL 2021 Symposium Session 1: Yurok Language Teacher Training and Credentialing – YouTube – accessed 11. 12. 21) 12 Some researchers are continuing to investigate deep genetic relationships (see Shaul 2019, 2020).



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The bulk of data available for the studied languages stems from documentation work in the 20th century, and linguists and community members mostly rely on archival materials for their work. It can sometimes be challenging to make practical and effective use of such data. Yet, communities have found innovative ways to develop language programs and to create pedagogical materials, as with Mutsun, Maiduan, and Wintuan, among others. The communities themselves generally lead these efforts. While some of the languages are currently dormant, their linguistic vitality shows a promising outlook. Many are now awakening, reinforcing the fact that language revitalization can rest on archival sources.

References Anderson, Karen Lahaie. 2014. Mountain Maidu Grammar. 1st edition. CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform. Angulo, Jaime de, and L. S. Freeland. (1930). The Achumawi language. International Journal of American Linguistics 6(2). 77–120. Balodis, Uldis. 2016. Yuki grammar with sketches of Huchnom and Coast Yuki. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 151). Berkeley: University of California Press. Barker, M.A.R. 1963. Klamath Dictionary. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 31). Berkeley: University of Calfornia Press. Bean, Lowell John & Thomas C. Blackburn (eds.). 1976. Native Californians: A Theoretical Retrospective. Ramona, CA: Ballena Press. Bright, William. 1973. North American Indian Language Contact. In Thomas A. Sebeok (ed.), Linguistics in North America, 713–726. (Current Trends in Linguistics 10). The Hague: Mouton. [Reprinted in Thomas A. Sebeok (ed.), Native Languages of the Americas, vol. 1, 59–72. New York: Plenum.]. Broadbent, Sylvia M. 1964. The Southern Sierra Miwok Language. (University of Calfironia Publications in Linguistics 38). University of Calfironia Press: Berkeley. Borhani, Maya T. 2011. A Precious Spring: Land Reclamation, Culture, and Language Revitalization in Mountain Maidu Country. (University of British Colombia Graduate Research Collection). https://open.library.ubc. ca/cIRcle/collections/graduateresearch Callaghan, Catherine. 1963. A grammar of the Lake Miwok language. Dissertation. University of California, Berkeley. Callaghan, Catherine. 1987. Northern Sierra Miwok Dictionary. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 110). University of California Press: Berkeley. Callaghan, Catherine. 2014. Proto Utian Grammar and Dictionary (with Notes on Yokuts). (Trends in Linguistics. Documentation 31). Berlin & Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. Campbell, Lyle. 2018. Language isolates and their history. In Lyle Campbell (ed.), Language Isolates, 1–18. (Routledge Language Family Series). London: Routledge. Collord, Thomas. 1968. Yokuts Grammar: Chukchansi. Dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Conathan, Lisa. 2004. The Linguistic Ecology of Northwestern California: Contact, Functional Convergence and Dialectology. PhD dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Conathan, Lisa & Esther Wood. 2003. Repetitive Reduplication in Yurok and Karuk: Semantic Effects of Contact. In H. Christoph Wolfart (ed.), Papers of the Thirty-Fourth Algonquian Conference. University of Manitoba Winnipeg. https://ojs.library.carleton.ca/index.php/ALGQP/issue/view/46 DeLancey, Scott. 1987. Klamath and Wintu pronouns. International Journal of American Linguistics 53. 461–464.

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DeLancey, Scott. 1996. The bipartite stem belt: Disentangling areal and genetic correspondences. Proceedings of the twenty-second annual meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society: Special session on historical issues in Native American languages. 37–54. Dixon, Roland & Alfred Kroeber. 1913a. Relationship of the Indian languages of California. Science 37(945). 225. Dixon, Roland & Alfred Kroeber. 1913b. New linguistic families in California. American Anthropologist 15(4). 647–655. Dupris, Joseph. 2019. Maqlaqsyalank hemyeega: Goals and expectations of Klamath-Modoc revitalization. Language Documentation & Conservation 13. 155–196. Freeland, Lucy Shepard. 1951. Language of the Sierra Miwok. (Indiana University Publications in Anthropology and Linguistics, IJAL Memoir 6). Baltimore: Waverly Press. Garrett, Andrew. 2001. Reduplication and infixation in Yurok: Morphology, semantics, and diachrony. International Journal of American Linguistics 67(3). 264–312. Garrett, Andrew. 2004. The evolution of Algic verbal stem structure: New evidence from Yurok. Proceedings of the Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistic Society: Special Session on the Morphology of Native American Languages. BLS 30. 46–60. https://escholarship.org/uc/bling_proceedings Garrett, Andrew. 2014. Basic Yurok. (Survey of California and Other Indian Languages, Report 16). Berkeley: University of California. Gifford, Edward Winslow. 1922. California kinship terminologies. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology, vol. 18. Berkeley: University of California Press. Golla, Victor. 2011. California Indian Languages. Berkeley: University of California Press. Grant, Anthony. 2014. Penutian Languages. In Mark Aranoff (ed.), Oxford Bibliographies Online: Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi: 10.1093/obo/9780199772810-0171. Grant, Anthony. 2018. Penutian Languages. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Linguistics. https://oxfordre. com/linguistics/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780199384655.001.0001/acrefore-9780199384655-e-358. Haas, Mary 1976. The Northern California linguistic area. In Margaret Langdon & Shirley Silver (eds.), Hokan Studies, 347–59. The Hague: Mouton. Haynie, Hannah J. 2012. Studies in the History and Geography of California Languages. Doctoral Dissertation. University of California: Berkeley. Haynie, Hannah J. 2014. Deep relationships among California languages. Diachronica 31(3). 407–447. Hill, Jane H. Areal 2019. Chapter 24. Linguistics and Linguistic Areas in California. In Daniel Siddiqi, Michael Barrie, Carrie Gillon, Jason Haugen & Eric Mathieu (eds.), The Routledge Handbook of North American Languages, 572–586. Routledge: New York. Hinton, Leanne. 1987. Yana Morphology: A Thumbnail Sketch. (Occasional Papers on Linguistics, no. 14). Carbondale: Department of Linguistics, Southern Illinois University. Jacobsen, William H. 1967. Switch-reference in Hokan-Coahuiltecan. In Dell H. Hymes & William E. Bittle (eds.), Studies in Southwestern Ethnolinguistics: Meaning and History in the Languages of the American Southwest, 238–263. (Studies in Generla Anthropology 3). The Hague: Mouton. Jany, Carmen. 2009. Chimariko grammar: Areal and typological perspective. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 142). Berkeley: University of California Press. Jany, Carmen. 2011. Clausal Nominalization as Relativization Strategy in Chimariko. International Journal of American Linguistics 77(3). 429–443. Jany, Carmen. 2013. Hokan Languages. In Mark Aaranoff (ed.), Oxford Bibliographies Online: Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/OBO/9780199772810-0113 Jany, Carmen. 2016. Hokan Languages. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Linguistics. http://oxfordre.com/ linguistics/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780199384655.001.0001/acrefore-9780199384655-e-19. Retrieved 11 Mar. 2019 Jany, Carmen. 2017. 14. Northern Hokan Area. In Michael Fortescue, Marianne Mithun & Nicholas Evans (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Polysynthesis, 260–283. Oxford: Oxford University Press.



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Kaufman, Terrence. 1988. A Research Program for Reconstructing Proto-Hokan: First Groupings. 1988 Hokan-Penutian Workshop. 50–168. Langdon, Margaret & Shirley Silver. 1984. California t/ṭ*. Journal of California and Great Basin Anthropology Papers in Linguistics 4. 139–165 Lawyer, Lewis C. 2015. A description of the Patwin language. Dissertation. University of California: Davis. Lawyer, Lewis C. 2021. A Grammar of Patwin. Studies in the Native Languages of the Americas Series. University of Nebraska Press. Lee, Dorothy Demetracopoulou.1944. Categories of the Generic and Particular in Wintu’. American Anthropologist 46. 362–369. Mason, J. Alden. 1918. The Ethnology of the Salinan Indians. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Enthology 10(4). 97–240. Mithun, Marianne. 1991. Active/agentive case marking and its motivations. Language 67. 510–46. Mithun, Marianne. 1999. The Languages of Native North America. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Mithun, Marianne. 2007. Grammar, contact, and time. Journal of Language Contact. (e-journal) THEMA 1. 133–155. www.jlc-journal.org. Mithun, Marianne. 2008. The emergence of agentive systems in core argument marking. In Mark Donohue & Søren Wichmann (eds.), The Typology of Semantic Alignment Systems, 297–333. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mithun, Marianne. 2010. Contact and North American Languages. In Raymond Hickey (ed.), The Handbook of Language Contact, 673–694. Oxford, UK: Wiley-Blackwell. Mithun, Marianne. 2012. Core argument patterns and deep genetic relations: Hierarchical systems in Northern California. In Pirkko Suihkonen, Bernard Comrie & Valery Solovyev (eds.), Argument Structure and Grammatical Relations: A Crosslinguistic Typology, 257–294. (Studies in Language Companion Series 126). Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Mithun, Marianne. 2018. 7. Language isolates of North America. In Lyle Campbell (ed.), Language Isolates, 193–228. (Routledge Language Family Series). London: Routledge. Mithun, Marianne. 2020. Inside contact-stimulated grammatical development. In Patience Epps, Danny Law & Na’ama Pat-El (eds.), Historical Linguistics and Endangered Languages: Exploring Diversity in Language Change. 182–211. (Routledge Series in Historical Linguistics). New York: Routledge. Nevin, Bruce. 2017. Achumawi-Atsugewi cognates a triage. Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the Society for the Study of Indigenous Languages (SSILA). Austin, TX. Nevin, Bruce E. 2019. Achumawi-English Dictionary. Webonary.org. SIL International. Retrieved on 11/10/2020 from https://www.webonary.org/odissi/overview/introduction/. Nichols, Johanna. 1971. Diminutive Consonant Symbolism in Western North America. Language 47(4). 826–848. Proulx, Paul. 1985. Notes on Yurok Derivation. Kansas Working Papers in Linguistics 10(2). 101–144. Sapir, Edward. 1910. Yana texts, with Yana myths collected by R.B. Dixon. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 9. 1–235. Sapir, Edward. 1923. Text Analyses of Three Yana Dialects. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 20. 263–294. Sapir, Edward & Morris Swadesh. 1960. Yana dictionary. Edited by Mary Haas. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 22). Berkeley: University of California Press. Sarmento, James. 2021. The Shasta language: A one-hundred year conversation. Dissertation. University of California, Davis. Shaul, David Leedom. 2017. Ausaima language and culture: Perspectives on ancient California. Munich: LINCOM. Shaul, David Leedom. 2019. Esselen Studies: Language, Culture, and Prehistory. (LINCOM Studies in Native American Linguistics 83). LINCOM GmbH: Munich, Germany.

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Shaul, David Leedom. 2020. Salinan Language Studies. (LINCOM Studies in Native American Linguistics 85). LINCOM GmbH: Munich, Germany. Sherzer, Joel. 1973. Areal Linguistics in North America. In Thomas A. Sebeok (ed.), Linguistics in North America, 749–795. (Current Trends in Linguistics 10). The Hague: Mouton. [Reprinted in Thomas A. Sebeok (ed.), Native Languages of the Americas, vol. 1, 121–173. New York: Plenum). Shipley, William F. 1964. Maidu Grammar. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 41). University of California Press: Berkeley. Silver, Shirley. 1966. The Shasta language. Dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Teeter, Karl V. 1959. Consonant harmony in Wiyot (With a note on Cree). International Journal of American Linguistics 25(1). 41–43. Turner, Katherine. 1987. Aspects of Salinan Grammar. Dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Warner, Natasha, Quirina Luna & Lynnika Butler. 2007. Ethics and revitalization of dormant languages: The Mutsun language. Language Documentation & Conservation 1. 58–76. Warner, Natasha, Lynnika Butler & Quirina Geary. 2016. Mutsun-English English-Mutsun Dictionary: mutsun-inkiS inkiS-mutsun riica pappel. (Language Documentation and Conservation Special Publication No. 11). Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press.

Timothy P. Henry-Rodriguez

51 Chumashan

Abstract: Chumashan languages have been the topic of linguistic studies on a number of grammatical phenomena: reduplication (Applegate 1976; Saba Kirchner 2010), sibilant harmony (Beeler 1970; Harrington 1974; Mithun 1997; Poser 2004), nominalization (Mithun 2002), and more (Mithun 1999, Wash 2001). However, the list of completed dictionaries and grammars of Chumashan languages is short, which can be particularly problematic when developing revitalization language materials. This chapter gives a sketch of Chumashan grammar, as well as current revitalization efforts for Chumashan languages.

51.1 Introduction The historical distribution of Chumashan languages extended from just north of San Luis Obispo southward to Malibu (Klar 1977) along the California coast and thence inland to various points in Southern California. In his seminal paper, King (1975) documents Chumashan placenames and the distribution of Chumashan villages within traditional Chumashan territory. Chumashan peoples and their languages were negatively impacted by the Spanish missionization and forced relocations of the late 18th and the early 19th centuries and the following subjugation under the government of the United Mexican States (early to mid-19th century). In 1850, Chumashan peoples became subject to the authority of the United States of America and the State of California. Boarding schools further forced relocations and other sociopolitical action by the government of the United States of America and its citizens caused further erosion of Chumashan culture and further reduced the number of speakers of Chumashan languages. By the mid-20th century, all Chumashan languages had lost their native speakers. For the sake of clarity, I refer to Chumashan languages by their Hispanicized forms: Obispeño, Purisimeño, Ventureño, Barbareño, and Cruzeño. The exception to this rule is Samala (technically Sʰamala), which was previously commonly referred to as ‘Ineseño.’1 Since all Chumashan languages had dialects — it is granted that Purisimeño would also have had dialects given its distribution — I use the Hispanicized terms to refer to all the dialects that would be classified under the language term. Several Chumashan revitalization efforts have proposed various indigenous names for the languages under consideration. For example, Mitsqanaqan̓ has been proposed for Ventureño and Šmuwič for Barbareño. Such a substitution confuses the linguistic situation, however, as it uses

1 Technically, the two terms do not refer to the exact same variety of speech, but they are used this way in practice. Thus, I defer to the tribe’s preferred term. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-051

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names for villages where dialects were spoken to cover entire dialect groups and languages. In order to avoid this confusion, I use here the indigenous terms to refer to specific dialects of Chumashan languages, e.  g., Mitsqanaqan̓ Ventureño was the variety of Ventureño spoken in and around Mitsqanaqan̓. Hispanicized and indigenous terms can be used alongside each other, and together they give us an accurate understanding of Chumashan language and dialect distributions. Chumashan language relatedness is represented in Table 1 below. Tab. 1: Chumashan languages and language families (Klar 1977) Chumashan                    

  Northern   Southern              

        Island Chumash   Central Chumash        

    Obispeño     Cruzeño   Barbareño Purisimeño Samala (Ineseño) Ventureño

51.2 Recent work on Chumashan languages Klar (1977) offers the most useful work in understanding commonalities among Chumashan languages. Klar’s work covers lexical similarities, grammatical comparisons, and reconstructed morphophonology. In 2007, Timbrook published on the ethnobotany of Chumash. This resource has linguistic material as well as cultural information. Other recent works on Chumashan languages include Henry-Rodriguez’s (2019) dictionary of Mitsqanaqan̓ Ventureño and his pedagogical grammar of Ventureño (Henry 2012). The grammar is particularly useful to the language learner, as it is designed for those without an extensive background in linguistics. In 2008, Henry-Rodriguez published his thesis on Ventureño nominal morphology (Henry 2008). While this work is not designed for pedagogical purposes, with minimal effort it can be adapted for them. The Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians has published a bilingual Samala-English/ English-Samala dictionary, and this is the sole pedagogical source commonly available to the public of the language (2007). Applegate’s (1972) grammar of Samala (Ineseño) might be adapted for pedagogical purposes. The Western Institute for Endangered Language Documentation (WIELD) published its 1st edition lexicon of Purisimeño (WIELD 2018). It is in manuscript form, but it is publicly available.

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The publications listed in this section are all publicly and readily available.2 With the completion of the Ventureño dictionary, Ventureño will have available a grammar and dictionary both designed with the language learner in mind. With Applegate’s 1972 formal grammar of Ineseño and the Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians 2007 dictionary of the same, that language will also have a dedicated grammar and dictionary. The grammar is framed in a theory that requires specialized knowledge to read, and Applegate has begun to adapt the grammar for pedagogical purposes in his collaboration with Samala revitalization efforts (personal communication). Barbareño revitalization efforts depend heavily on Whistler’s 1980’s lexicon, Wash’s 2001 dissertation on adverbial clauses, and accessing original Harrington (1986) materials.

51.3 Phonetics and phonology Chumashan languages have much in common with regard to their sound systems. Their shared inventory is presented in Table 2. In a few instances, the inclusion of a sound is assumed to have been present in a language, but the sound may not have been recorded. Tab. 2: Chumashan consonants  

Bilabial

Alveolar

PostAlveolar

Palatal

Velar

Uvular

Glottal

Stops

Plain Ejective Aspirated

p  p̓ pʰ

t  t̓ tʰ

     

     

k  k̓ kʰ

q  q̓ qʰ

’     

Fricatives

Plain Ejective Aspirated

     

s    sʰ

š    šʰ

     

     

x  x̓  

h     

Affricates

Plain Ejective Aspirated

     

ts c ts̓ (c̓)

tsʰ (cʰ)

tš (č) tš̓ (č̓) tšʰ (čʰ)

     

     

     

     

Nasals

Plain Glottalized

m  m̓

n n̓

 

 

 

 

 

Approximants

Plain Glottalized

w  w̓

   

   

y  y̓

   

   

   

Laterals

Approximant Fricative

   

l  ł 

   

   

   

   

   

2 I contrast this with items which are technically available, but which require special permissions, university connections, emailing authors, overcoming paywalls, etc. to acquire.

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While the sound ł [ɬ] can be found in all languages, some authors do not consider it phonemic and do not represent it in their representation of the Chumash data. All languages but Ventureño have the glottalized lateral phoneme l̓. Ejective coronal fricatives [s’] and [ʃ’] seem to occur in all Chumashan languages, but, as Klar (1977: 11–13) notes for Cruzeño and Barbareño, the sounds are not always considered phonemic.3 Purisimeño has an additional voiceless fricative phoneme represented as x̂; this sound likely represented a voiceless pharyngeal fricative [ħ].4 Obispeño has a set of stop consonants not found in the other Chumashan languages: tʸ, t̓ʸ, and tʸʰ. These are palatalized stops, and they often correspond to velar stops in other Chumashan languages. Obispeño and Purisimeño, and Ventureño to a lesser degree, have a distinctive ejective ł̓. Chumashan languages have simple vowel inventories, which are phonetically similar across the languages. The vowels are presented in Table 3. Note that while all Chumashan languages have a non-open central vowel, it is represented various ways. The barred-I ɨ and schwa ə are most commonly used. Tab. 3: Chumashan vowels  

Front

Central

Back

Close Open mid Open

i  e   

  ə  a 

u  o   

Voiceless vowels occur in all Chumashan languages. They are usually if not always an echo of the vowel that comes before. Only in Purisimeño are they found with a degree of consistency, and the Western Institute for Endangered Language Documentation (2018) represents them thusly: ḁ, e̥, i̥ , ə̥, o̥, and u̥. Representation of Chumashan sounds is generally consistent across publications, particularly recent publications. Three differences should be noted, however: alveolar affricates can be represented with c or ts, post-alveolar affricates can be represented with č or tš, and the central vowel can be represented as either ɨ or ə. Ventureño and Purisimeño conventions use the second of each possibility, and I extend those conventions here to Cruzeño and Obispeño5 as well. Barbareño and Samala have established 3 It is possible that the sounds were simply not encountered; Harrington’s transcription methods do not always clearly separate consonants followed by a glottal plosive from consonants which have glottal constriction (either glottalized sonorants or ejective obstruents). 4 Not to be confused with the Purisimeño phonemes [q̓] or [x̓] ( and , respectively, in Harrington’s notes). Harrington’s comments on this sound are that it is h-like. Some transcriptions of this symbol even use the symbol h with modifying diacritics. 5 I am aware that some Obispeño language learners use a mixed orthographic system. However, they have published nothing standardized and nothing readily available. I have had to draw primarily on Harrington’s original notes (NAA MS 2108 reels 1–5).

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conventions of using single symbols for affricates and the barred-I, however, and so I represent their materials as given in various publications.

51.4 Morphophonology Several morphophonological processes common among Chumashan languages are discussed here. This includes consonant diminutization (4.1), reduplication (4.2), and sibilant harmony (4.3).

51.4.1 Consonant diminutization (suwamit̓in) Consonant diminutization involves the altering of consonants in a word to indicate diminutive semantics. Diminutives can be a physically smaller version of the non-diminutive forms, but diminutives might also be younger versions as well. The alterations are fairly predictable, and they are presented in Table 4. Several Ventureño diminutive and non-diminutive forms are presented in examples (1)–(4) (Harrington 1986). Tab. 4: Consonant changes in diminutives (Ventureño)6 Non-diminutives l/ł x  x̓

→  →  →  →  →  →  → 

s  š  tš tš̓

(1)         (3)      

Diminutives

a.   b.     a.   b.  

n  q  q̓

ts/tš ts/tš ts ts̓

x̓anwa ‘woman’ q̓anwa ‘young woman, girl’   ’at̓axatš ‘man’ ’at̓aqatš ‘small man’

                 

(2)         (4)      

a.   b.     a.   b.  

šupexš ‘to mend’ tšupeqš ‘to make a small mend’   pištuk ‘squirrel’ pitstuk ‘baby squirrel’

6 Non-diminutive forms could be seen as a type of underlying form.

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Although there is no direct evidence of the change, it might be assumed that tšʰ → tsʰ as well. It is unclear whether, at the time Ventureño was recorded, new words could undergo consonant diminutization. If treated as productive, the process could be applied to many words, as the sounds x, s, š, tš, and l/ł are common.7

51.4.2 Reduplication In Chumashan languages, new forms of a word can be made by repeating all or some of the consonants and vowels. Reduplication has a number of forms, and many of them include the replication of the initial consonant+vowel (+consonant) or CV(C)- of the root. In each Chumashan language, there are several types of reduplication, each type of which is defined by what parts of a word get reduplicated and what other sounds might be inserted in the reduplicated form. For Barbareño, Wash (2001: 59) identifies five types of reduplication. Examples of reduplication in Chumashan languages are given in examples (5)–(9). Reduplicated forms are given with their non-reduplicated counterparts for comparison. (5)      

Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 206) Non-reduplicated Reduplicated ku kuhku’u ‘person’ ‘person.redup’

(6)      

Ineseño (Saba Kirchner 2001: 142) Non-reduplicated Reduplicated ku’ kuhku’ ‘people/person’ ‘people.redup’

(7)      

Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 392) Non-reduplicated Reduplicated tip tiptip ‘salt’ ‘place with much salt’

(8)      

Ineseño (Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians 2007: 278) Non-reduplicated Reduplicated pon̓ ponpon̓

‘tree’

‘trees, sticks’

7 Members of the Barbareño/Ventureño Band of Mission Indians who are revitalizing their language have considered using this method to expand existing vocabulary.

Chumashan 

(9)      

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Barbareño (Wash 2001: 39) Non-reduplicated Reduplicated ’ ɨhɨy̓ ’ ɨy̓ɨhɨy̓ ‘man’

‘men’

Reduplication occurs on nouns, verbs, and adjectives. It conveys several meanings, which depend on context and word class. Reduplication on nouns can indicate that many entities are in an area or that one entity occurred many times. Reduplication on nouns can also indicate plurality, but this seems incidental to other meaning being conveyed. Reduplication on verbs can indicate that an action occurred many times, occurred regularly over a period of time, occurred all over an area, and or was intense. On adjectives, reduplication usually indicates degree. Non-productive reduplication would be reduplication which is only evident in native Chumashan words, and reduplication which is only evident in a limited number of forms. Reduplication such as that in example (5) above for ‘person’ is just such a type of reduplication (C is used for ‘consonant’ and V for ‘vowel’): CV → CVhCV’V in Ventureño and, from what can be seen, Purisimeño. Of course, Chumashan languages may differ in what patterns are productive. Non-productive reduplication can be contrasted with productive reduplication, which is a form of reduplication that is common and widespread within the language in question. True productivity can be confirmed when the reduplication is applied to non-native recently borrowed words, but it must be accepted that some common patterns of reduplication may not have evidence in borrowed words due to nothing more than chance gaps in the data. Several productive examples of reduplication in Ventureño are given in examples (10)–(13); native reduplicated forms with similar reduplication patterns are provided for (10) and (11) (Henry-Rodriguez 2019). Patterns of consonants and vowels are given with subscript numbers so that the sounds being duplicated can be tracked.8 (10)            

Ventureño repeating the first CVC syllable (Henry-Rodriguez 2019) a. word kuya ‘to look over one’s shoulder’   reduplication kuykuya   C1V1C2C3V2C4V3 → C1V1C2 + C1V1C2C3V2C4V3 b. word nimay ‘to put out fire’   reduplication nimnimay     C1V1C2V2C3 → C1V1C2 + C1V1C2V2

8 Note that a final glottal stop is usually accompanied by an echo vowel. In Ventureño, this is a fully articulated vowel, but in other Chumashan languages such a vowel may be voiceless or absent.

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Ventureño repeating the first CVC syllable and duplicating the last vowel as ʼV (Henry-Rodriguez 2019) a. word kawayu ‘horse’   reduplication kawkawyu’u     borrowed from Spanish caballo ‘horse’   C1V1C2V2C3V3 → C1V1C2 + C1V1C2V2C3V3 + ʼV3 b. word kuna ‘nephew (sister’s son)’   reduplication kunkuna’a     C1V1C2V2 → C1V1C2 + C1V1C2C1V1C2V2 + ʼV2

(12)          

Ventureño repeating the last vowel with added ʼ (Henry-Rodriguez 2019) word pali ‘priest’ reduplication paliʼi   borrowed from Spanish padre ‘father (priest)’ C1V1C2V2 → C1V1C2V2 + ʼV2 (This reduplication method seems unique to borrowings.)

Instances of reduplication like those in (11a) and (11b) are common in both native and borrowed words. Example (13) demonstrates an almost identical type of reduplicative pattern except that the last consonant is repeated with the final vowel. (13)              

Ventureño repeating the first CVC syllable and duplicating the last syllable as ʼVC (Henry-Rodriguez 2019) word pantalon ‘pants’ reduplication panpantaloʼon   borrowing from Spanish pantalón ‘pants’ C1V1C2C3V2C4V3C5 → C1V1C2 + C1V1C2C3V2C4V3C5 + ʼV3C5 word kumeł ‘bad, to be bad’ reduplication kumkume’eł   C1V1C2V2C3 → C1V1C2C1V1C2V2 + ’V2C3

Reduplication is a morphophonological process of great interest in the field of linguistics. Saba-Kirchner (2010) offers an extensive discussion of reduplication in Chumashan languages (among other languages). Reduplication is relevant to language revitalization in that it gives speakers access to a native method for phonetically forming new words from both native words and borrowed words.9

9 Reduplication is not entirely predictable from base forms. Some bases have more than one reduplicated form (Ventureño wele → wełwele or welewele) and similar bases may have different reduplicative forms (Ventureño pa → pahpa’a but we → wew̓e).

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51.4.3 Sibilant harmony Sibilants are the s-like sounds in Chumashan languages, and the category of sounds includes those produced with the front of the tongue closer to the teeth 1) , , , , , , and those produced with the front of the tongue pulled further back behind the teeth 2) , , , , , . In Central Chumashan languages, all the sibilants in a word will be of type 1) or type 2), but never a mix of the two sets of sounds.10 This process is known as sibilant harmony; the sibilants earlier in a word take their position from the last or rightmost sibilant in a word. If the rightmost sibilant is , as is the case for the verbalizing suffix -itš in Ventureño, all other sibilants in the word will need to be from group 2), even if they had previously been in group 1) before the suffix was added. Sibilant harmony can be seen in the Ventureño example (14). The word for ‘headdress’ tsux begins with a . When a verb is made of this word with the suffix -itš, the initial ts becomes tš. (14)    

Ventureño sibilant harmony (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 417) tsux ‘headdress’ tsux + -itš → tšuxitš ‘to wear a headdress’

Sibilant harmony has the ability to alter the structure of Chumashan words since many suffixes and prefixes have sibilants. Consider Purisimeño desiderative sili- and future sa-, the Barbareño causative su-, and the Ventureño verbalizer -itš, applicative -us, and imperfective -š (NAA MS 2108 reel 6 pages 206 & 1629; Beeler 1976: 263; Henry-Rodriguez 2019).11

51.5 Morphology Chumashan languages have at least four word classes in common: nouns, verbs, pronouns, and adjectives.12 Examples of word classes are given in examples (15)–(18). The word class illustrated in each sentence has been underlined. (15)      

Pronoun — Purisimeño (Western Institute for Endangered Language Documentation 2018: 17) tšʰap-ku yawi intrr-person this ‘who is this here?’

10 Exceptions may apply to proclitics. Mithun (1997) provides a thorough discussion of situations where sibilant harmony was not always present in the language of the last speakers of Barbareño. 11 The verbalizer -itš has several phonetic forms with the vowel often matching that of the root. 12 The class of adjectives could be analyzed as a subset of verbs.

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Verb — Samala (Applegate 1972: 228; Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians 2007: 125) k-č̓amɨn hi noʼ 1.sbj-know foc 1s ‘I know’

(17)      

Adjective (or adjectival verb) — Ventureño (Harrington 1986: 3.91.602.2)13 wašətš si-k-kawayu (be.)good indef-1.poss-horse ‘my horse is very good’

(18)      

Noun — Obispeño (NAA MS 2108 reel 2 page 51)14 ya-m-qnipu m-istupołha 1.sbj-clean.fut def-1.poss-house ‘I am going to clean my house’

51.5.1 Nominal morphology A number of morphemes are associated primarily with nouns in Chumashan languages. The most common types of affixes are covered this section.

51.5.1.1 Articles All Chumashan nouns carry article prefixes of some type, although the precise meaning of the articles varies with language. In Central Chumashan languages (Barbareño, Samala, Ventureño, and Purisimeño), articles convey information about identifiability, newness of information, and inalienability. In Ventureño, determinative affixes are used with articles. In Obispeño, the article ya- is obligatorily used if there is no possessive prefix. Examples of several different Chumash articles are given in examples (19)–(21).

13 Examples which come directly from the Harrington 1986 microfilm are cited as follows: volume.reel number.slide.page or card. E.  g., Harrington 1986 3.72.100.2 would translate as Harrington (1986) volume 3, reel 72, slide 100, and page 2 (or the second index card on that slide). 14 John Peabody Harrington material that is cited directly from the National Anthropological Archives digitized material is given its appropriate National Anthropological Archives manuscript number, associated reel, and page number within that reel. All NAA MS citations derive from John Peabody Harrington’s original notes unless otherwise stated.

Chumashan 

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Purisimeño with article a- and ka-15 (Western Institute for Endangered Language Documentation 2018: 3, 10) a. a-k-oqwo   art.i-1.poss-hair   ‘my hair’ b. ka-k-ʼotomuʼu̥   art.ii-1.poss-bed   ‘my bed’

(20)      

Obispeño with article ya- (NAA MS 2108 reel 1 page 21) t-qnepeʼ ya-milono nmzl-be.sweet art-melon ‘the melon is sweet’

(21)      

Barbareño with article l- (Wash 2001: 58) he’=l-šup prox=art-earth ‘the/this earth’

(19)

51.5.1.2 Determinative prefixes Another common type of prefix found on nouns is the prefix which indicates the location of a noun relative to someone or something else. Barbareño has one of the most complete sets of recorded prefixes: heʼ- ‘this,’ ho’- ‘that,’ and hu= ‘remote.’ These are illustrated in examples (22a)–(22c). (22)                  

Barbareño (Wash 2001: 58–59) a. he’-l-’ašk̓aʼ   prox-art-coyote   ‘this coyote’ b. hoʼ-l-xšap   dist-art-snake   ‘that snake’ c. hu=l-moloqiwaš hu=l-kuhk̓uʼ   remote=art-ancient.one remote=art-people   ‘the ancient people’

15 The prefix a- may also mark inalienability, but this is not a necessary interpretation of the prefix.

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51.5.1.3 Possessive prefixes In all Chumashan languages, possessive prefixes indicating number and person of a possessor can be attached to the possessed noun. The Ventureño example from earlier is repeated in example (23). These prefixes are addressed again in 6.2.2. (23)        

Ventureño possessive 1st singular prefix k- (Harrington 1986: 3.91.602.2) wašətš sikʰawayu wašətš si-k-kawayu (be.)good indf-1.poss-horse ‘my horse is a very good horse’

There are other affixes and clitics found on nouns in various Chumashan languages such as the relative clause clitic si= in Ventureño. However, these morphemes are not necessarily common among all languages.

51.5.2 Verbal morphology Chumashan verbs are rich in morphology, and they would seem to allow for an endless combination of prefixes and suffixes with which one could form new words. Derivational and inflectional morphology are presented in sections 6.2.1. and 6.2.2., respectively.

51.5.2.1 Derivation and manner prefixes All Chumashan languages make use of manner prefixes (referred to in older works as ‘instrumental’ prefixes). These prefixes generally add information about duration (e.  g., quickly), direction (e.  g., of movement toward the speaker, of movement across, of motion along a line), and instrument with which a verb is carried out (e.  g., by wind, with fire/heat, with the hands). As in many languages, affixes which evoke instruments can add causative meaning. Ventureño alone has over 75 of these prefixes; some examples are offered in (24) (Henry-Rodriguez 2012, 2019). (24)          

Ventureño manner prefixes (Henry 2012: 205)   uš- ‘with the hands’ a. yam ‘to go down’   ušyam ‘to let down’ b. melewe ‘to sink’   ušmelewe ‘to submerge one’s hand/arm in’

Chumashan 

         

  c.   d.  

 1287

lu- ‘having to do with growing’ naʼał ‘to go (away)’ lunaʼał ‘to grow up’ nəʼəp ‘to continue’ lunəʼəp ‘to grow continuously’

Manner prefixes are often combined, and alone or in combination they can be used with prefixes such as the causative and the desiderative.

51.5.2.2 Inflectional morphology A number of inflectional morphemes can be found on the Chumashan verb. Common grammatical meanings expressed on verbs include tense (past and future), aspect (imperfective), and various aspects of irrealis semantics: negation, prohibition, counterfactuality, negative counterfactuality, conditionality, etc. Several types of inflection are covered in this section. Nominalization is addressed in section 8.3. Subject pronominal affixes On all Chumashan verbs, the person and number of the subject can be expressed as prefixes on the verb. Categories commonly expressed for subject include 1st, 2nd, and 3rd person, and singular, dual, plural, and unspecified number. The variety and similarities in prefixes are presented in the paradigms for Ventureño (Central Chumash subfamily) in Table 5 and Cruzeño (Island Chumash subfamily) Table 6. Tab. 5: Ventureño subject pronouns (Henry-Rodriguez 2012, 2019) person

singular

dual

plural

1  2  3 

kpts-

kiš‘we two’ p(i)š- ‘you two’ tšiš- ‘they two’

kiypiytsiy-

‘I’ ‘you (s)’ ‘s/he, it’

unspec. ‘we 3+’ ‘you 3+’ ‘they 3+’

  tsam- ‘someone, anyone’

Tab. 6: Cruzeño subject pronominal prefixes (Klar & Beeler 1977: 36–37) person

singular

dual

plural16

unspec.

1  2  3 

mpl-/Ø-

kiš‘we two’ p(i)š- ‘you two’ iš‘they two’

(kiy-) ‘we 3+’ (piy-) ‘you 3+’ iy‘they 3+’

 

‘I’ ‘you (s)’ ‘s/he, it’

am-

‘someone, anyone’

16 The first and second plural forms are assumed as they did not show up in the extant data available to Klar and Beeler (1977).

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Examples of the prefixes are given in examples (25) and (26). (25)        

Cruzeño m- 1st singular (Beeler & Klar 1977: 37) makululan m-akululan 1.sbj-fut.dance’ ‘I am going to dance’

(26)        

Ventureño tšiš- third person dual (Harrington 1986: 3.6.90.2–3) tšišnimaqtu ts-iš-nimaqtu 3.sbj-du-divide.smth ‘they two divided it’

In Central Chumashan languages (Ventureño, Purisimeño, Barbareño, and Samala), the subject prefixes on verbs are formally identical to the prefixes used to indicate number and person of possessor on nouns. This can be seen in example (27), where the Ventureño prefix for ‘my’ and ‘I’ is k- in both cases. (27)        

Ventureño k- as 1.sbj ‘I’ and k- as 1.poss ‘my’ (Harrington 1986: 3.6.90.4) kqat̓iwəš lo’kakya lokak̓ax k-qat̓iwəš lo’ka-k-ya loka-k̓-ax 1.sbj-put.side.by.side nprox.def-1.poss-arrow nprox.def-1.poss-bow ‘I put my arrows side by side with my bow’

Not all Chumashan languages have the same phonetic forms across noun possessor and verbal subject prefixes. This can be seen in Cruzeño in Table 7. The 1st person singular is not m-, and the third person is now marked with an additional prefix s- or ts- (or a harmonized form). Tab. 7: Cruzeño possessive pronominal prefixes (Beeler & Klar 1977: 36–37) person

singular

1  2  3 

tšps-/ts-

plural17

dual ‘I’ ‘you (s)’ ‘s/he, it’

kišpiššiš-

‘we two’ ‘you two’ ‘they two’

(kiy-) (piy-) siy-

‘we 3+’ ‘you 3+’ ‘they 3+’

There are similarities across Chumashan pronominal prefixes, e.  g., the use of p- to indicate second person. There are differences within and among languages, however. For instance, in Cruzeño the first person singular possessive prefix is different from the 17 The first and second plural forms are assumed as they do not show up in the extant data available to Klar & Beeler (1977).

Chumashan 

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first person singular subject prefix. We also can see that, while third person possessive suffixes in Cruzeño are similar to those for Ventureño, they are significantly different for third person subject prefixes. Chumashan languages mark objects using pronominal suffixes. Objects are expressed with suffixes, and these suffixes mark fewer distinctions in person and number than subject prefixes. Ventureño object suffixes are presented in Table 8. Tab. 8: Ventureño object suffixes (Henry 2012: 173) person

singular

1  2  3 

-it -ił -Ø/-us

non-singular -iyuw -wu/-uswu

The object marking of Ventureño is best described as differential (DOM). Objects which have properties further to the left on the animacy and or specificity/definiteness scale (below) are marked over objects further down those scales:

Animacy scale: 1st/2nd person > proper name > animate > inanimate Specificity/definiteness: specific > non-specific

Third person arguments can be marked with the applicative -us (singular object) and -uswu (plural object) suffixes. Use of these suffixes is illustrated in examples (28)–(30). (28)        

First person object, no other objects (Henry 2012: 173) tšuškuyit ts-uškuy-it 3.sbj-point.at-1s.obj ‘he points at me’

(29)

Third person animate object marked over inanimate object (implied) (Henry-­ Rodriguez 2019: 427) hukakuskuyus he’ištǝ’ǝniwaš hu-k-akuskuy-us he’-si-štǝ’ǝniwaš fut-1.sbj-aim-appl prox-indef-dog ‘I am going to aim at this dog (with an arrow)’

        (30)        

First person singular animate object (patient/theme) marked over third person animate object (recipient) (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 180) tsamtawit siq̓anwawaš ts-am-ta’aw-it si-q̓anwawaš 3.sbj-unsp-give-1s.obj indef-old.woman ‘they gave me as a present to an old woman’

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Although it is clear that Ventureño has DOM, it is perhaps best to be careful and conclude this section by saying that, although all Chumashan languages mark objects with verbal suffixes, perhaps not all systems do so according to DOM parameters. Some systems might be better described as primary/secondary object marking. Tense All Chumashan languages mark past and future tenses. Past tense affixes are always suffixes (Table 9), and future tense markers are prefixes (Table 10). Examples of tense affixes in use are provided in (31) (past tense) and (32) (future tense). Tab. 9: Past tense suffixes (Klar 1977: 56–57, Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 184; Harrington 1986: 3.6.1648.1) -(i)waš -ama̓ -su

Central Chumashan languages Cruzeño Obispeño

Tab. 10: Future tense prefixes (Klar 1977: 56; Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 169) nosasa’huakuku-

Samala Purisimeño Barbareño Ventureño Cruzeño Obispeño

(31)      

Past tense in Obispeño (NAA MS reel 1.1 page 596) mi-’ipi-su 1.sbj-speak-pst ‘I spoke’

(32)      

Future tense in Cruzeño (Klar & Beeler 1977) m-aku-lulan 1.sbj-fut-dance ‘I am going to dance’

Tense in Chumashan languages is or can be relative to the narrative timeline and not necessarily the moment of speech (Mithun 1996; Wash 2001: 46). In connected speech, where the time of an event has been established by a tense affix or word stating time, a tense affix will not be reused on subsequent verbs until the tense inside the timeline changes.

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Negation Indicative negative constructions are formed by a prefix in Chumashan languages. These prefixes are given in Table 11, and an example of negation is given in example (33). Tab. 11: General negative prefixes (Klar 1977: 60–61; Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 247) enimuanimɨ-

(33)      

Barbareño, Samala Purisimeño Ventureño Cruzeño Obispeño

Negation in Cruzeño (Beeler & Klar 1977: 50) ani-p-alawan neg-2.sbj-kill ‘you don’t kill anything’

Negation strategies were likely intricate in all the Chumashan languages. This can be seen in the more extensively documented Chumashan languages like Ventureño (Table 12). Tab. 12: Negation morphemes in Ventureño mu’ani’ina’ǝwǝ-

negative negative purpose negative interrogative negative complementizer prohibitive negative irrealis

An example of the Ventureño purpose prefix ku- is given in (34) and contrasted with the negative purpose prefix ’a- in example (35). (34)       (35)      

Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 207) huksutapi hesinǝ kuhukaqkǝyǝmi hu-k-sutapi he’-si-nǝ ku-hu-k-aqkǝyǝmi fut-1.sbj-put.smth.in prox-part-fire purp-fut-1.sbj-straighten.smth ‘I am going to put [this stick] in the fire so that I can strengthen it’ Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 46) huksunapay heša’at̓axatš ’asmǝ’ǝ hu-k-sunapay he’-si-’at̓axatš ’a-ts-mǝ’ǝ fut-1.sbj-take.out prox-indf-man neg.purp-3.sbj-drown ‘I am going to take out the man so he will not drown’

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Negative morphology has here been presented as an aspect of verbal morphology. However, in some Chumashan languages, at least some negative morphemes are applicable to nouns. In such situations, the negative morphemes are usually applied to nominalized forms. Two examples of negation on nouns in Ventureño are given in (36) and (37). The negative prefix can be attached before the nominalization (36) or inside the verb before it is used as a noun (37). (36)       (37)      

Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 60) mu’ałtšatiwǝnitš mu-’ał-šatiwǝ-n-Vtš neg-nmlz-spouse-vz.ii-vz.prop ‘unmarried person’ Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 250) lokałmunakišukepeš lo’ka-ał-mu-na-kiy-su-ke’ep-Vš def-stat-neg-prf-1pl.sbj-caus-bathe-res ‘unbaptized, gentile’

51.5.3 Adjectives Adjectives or adjectival verbs form a clear class of words in at least Central Chumashan languages. Adjectives appear in predicate position but lack third person prefixes that would be found with verbs. This is illustrated in (38) where the verb mak̓ak takes the third person ts- and (39) where the adjectives qnowo and ’ułyi do not. (38)       (39)      

Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 229) tsmak̓ak ts-mak̓ak 3.sbj-be.busy ‘she is very busy’ Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 306) qnowowo sa’ałkuw ’ułyi ši’išaw qnowowo si-’ałkuw ’ułyi si-’išaw short indf-night long indf-day ‘the night is short, the day is long’

Furthermore, adjectives do not take other verbal affixes such as the repetitive, directional, cislocative (direction toward the speaker), and completive.

Chumashan 

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51.6 Syntax In this section an overview of Chumashan syntax is given. Section 7.1 covers preferred word order, and section 7.2 covers complex clause constructions.

51.6.1 Word order Chumashan languages exhibit a strong preference for predicate-initial sentences. This can be seen in the Purisimeño example and Obispeño in examples (40) and (41) respectively. In Purisimeño, we see the verb aqli ‘be visible’ before the subject ‘sun,’ and in Obispeño the verb sqisini ‘to want’ before the object ‘fish.’ (40)      

Purisimeño (Western Institute for Endangered Language Documentation 2018: 17)18 molo-s-aqli ka-x̂ut̓u̥ prf-3.sbj-be.visible def-sun ‘the sun is already visible’

(41)      

Obispeño (NAA MS 2108 reel 1 page 20) ʼa-p-sqisini ya-ił̓olomo cond-2.sbj-want art-fish ‘if you want (to buy) fish’

Something like SV/VO word order can be found in addition to VO/VS word order in Cruzeño (see Dryer 1997 for a relevant discussion of word order typology). An example of this is given in (42), where the verb tšum ‘to arrive’ is given in nominalized form between the subject ‘the man’ p̓alamuyun and the object ‘our house’ pʰmas̓awa. It is likely that this is not a basic word order, however; it has the appearance of a cleft construction. (42)        

Cruzeño predicate medial construction (Beeler & Klar 1977: 58, analysis presented as in source) p̓alamuyin ʼalatšum pʰmas̓awa p-ʼalamuyin ala-tšum pa-mas-ʼawa art-man 3.poss-arrival art-1pl.poss-house ‘the man arrived at our house’

18 Analysis mine.

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51.6.2 Complex sentences Chumashan languages often have similar types of complex clause constructions, but the precise morphemes that are used to connect the clauses vary among the languages. Several types of common clause combining strategies are presented in the following sections. Each strategy is presented with a focus on one language.

51.6.2.1 Juxtaposition Juxtaposition of two independent clauses whose relationship has no formal marking can be done in Ventureño if the verbs have similar meaning, and if the subjects of the two verbs are identical. This is the case in example (43). (43)      

Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 318) hukaqtǝ’ǝp ’iti huksapiwił hu-k-aqtǝ’ǝp ’iti hu-k-sapiwił fut-1.sbj-make.fire(.for) here fut-1.sbj-make.fire ‘I am going to kindle a fire here in this place’

51.6.2.2 Two predicate constructions In Barbareño, an independent clause and a dependent clause marked with the proclitic hi= can be combined. Wash refers to these clauses as two predicate constructions. An example is given in (44). (44)    

Barbareño (Wash 2001: 74) kimiy̓iy hip̓uw hilwewu19 kimiy-’iy hi=p-’uw do.again-again dp=2-eat ‘Eat eggs again!’

hi=l=wewu dp=art=egg

In such constructions, the first verb expresses frequency, direction, path, and similar aspects of manner.

19 Analysis presented as in source. I have adapted some of Wash’s grammatical abbreviations to match those used for other Chumashan languages in this chapter: nm > nmlz ‘nominalizer,’ n > neg ‘negative,’ idf > indef, and r > redup. Wash’s transcription method is used for the Barbareño data. (In her dissertation, Wash uses Harrington’s transcription method in the unparsed or first line in examples.)

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51.6.2.3 Paratactically conjoined clauses Clauses can be joined in a more overt fashion with conjunctions. Example (45) illustrates the joining of two clauses in Barbareño with the conjunction ’ikʰu ‘but.’ (45)      

Barbareño (Wash 2001: 110) ’alčowaš i’as ’ikʰu sewilwaš hil̓amnexpeypi ’al-čo-waš hi=’as ’ikʰu s-e-wil-waš hi=l=’-am-nexpey-pi nmlz-good-pst dp=seat but 3-neg-be-pst dp=art=nmlz-indf-lean-loc ‘it made a good seat, but there was nothing one could lean against’

51.6.2.4 Clause combining in discourse In Ventureño discourse, clauses are broadly organized using the proclitics ka=, ki=, and kika=. Their use is most clearly seen in narratives, although narratives constitute most of the available recorded connected speech. The proclitic ka= marks a clause as superordinate; clauses marked with this proclitic are episodic in nature and move the narrative forward. The proclitics ki= and kika= mark subordinate clauses which do not move the narrative forward. These clauses express overlapping events (ki=) or consecutive subevents (kika=). The tense of the subordinate clause matches the tense of clauses marked with ka=. An example of the proclitics ki= and ka= in use is given in example (46). (46)        

Ventureño (Harrington 1986: 3.69.1086.1–1104.2) kas[ʰ]ukitwo šitšotšonǝ’ǝš ka=ts-sukitwo si-tšotšonǝ’ǝš spo.epis=3.sbj-send.out indf-fish ‘while she [Eagle Daughter] was fishing’

       

naštǝ’ǝ’ǝ kisqiliwaya lo’ka’ałšǝpǝšiwaš naštǝ’ǝ’ǝ ki=ts-qiliwaya lo’ka-’ałšǝpǝšiwaš while sbo.ovlp=3.sbj-peek.at def-coyote ‘Coyote looked over a precipice’

     

kisqiliwaya sbo.ovlp-3.sbj-peek.at ‘and he looked over’

       

kisqisǝ lo’kaša’ay slow ki=ts-qisǝ lo’ka-ša’ay sbo.ovlp-3.sbj-see def-daughter ‘and he saw the Eagle Daughter’

tslow̓ eagle

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51.6.2.5 Adverbial clauses Wash notes that Barbareño is a language with a variety of adverbial clause types (2001: 116). This is also true for other Central Chumashan languages, and it likely was true for Cruzeño and Obispeño, although there is less connected speech recorded for those languages. An example of clause combining using the Barbareño adverbial element ’akimpi ‘during, while, when’ is given in example (47). The word ’akimpi marks a clause that has a temporal relation — typically simultaneous — to the main clause. (47)      

Barbareño (Wash 2001: 142) ’akimpi huktalawaxanuswun hil̓us’ustilyaku’ ’akimpi hu=k-talawaxanus-wun hi=l=’us’ustilyaku-’ during remote-1-work.for-pl.obj dp=art=redup.Austrian-em ‘during (the time) I worked for the Austrians’

       

samqili’itaquswun s-am-qili-’-itaqus-wun 3-indf-hab-ep.’-hear.something-pl.obj ‘one would hear them’

       

himal̓i siyax’axlulun iho’siykaltu hi=mal̓i s-iy-ax-’-axlulun dp=when 3-pl-redup-ep.’-sip ‘as they were sipping their soup’

hi=ho’=s-iy-kaltu dp=dist=3-pl-soup

Wash states that the ’akimpi clause denotes the period when the speaker, Mary Yee, worked for an Austrian family. The main clause and following (post-posed) ‘when’ clause highlight an event that would at times happen during that time of employment (2001: 142).

51.6.2.6 Nominalization and relative clauses Nominalization — the formation of nouns from verbs — is extensively used in Chumashan languages. As Wash (2001: 76) notes for Barbareño, nominalizations can be used as subject or object arguments, relativization, apposition, and cleft constructions. The use of nominalizations as arguments and the use in relativization seems common across the language family, and both uses are discussed in this section. In example (48), the Ventureño nominalizing affix ’al-/’ał- is used with the verb root -iwǝ- ‘be related.’ Many nouns formed with nominalizing prefixes exist in a lexicalized form. For instance, the word for man ’at̓axatš is analyzed as ’al-’ax-Vtš (nmlz-bow-vz. prop), which is literally translated as ‘one who has a bow.’

Chumashan 

(48)      

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Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 55) hukiyaqšǝš lokakiy’aliwǝ hu-k-iy-aqšǝš lo’ka-k-iy-’al-iwǝ fut-1.sbj-pl-call def-1.poss-pl-nmlz-related.to.relationships ‘we are going to call our brother’

In Ventureño, the nominalizing prefix has fused with other prefixes and proclitics to form morphemes with additional layers of meaning. For instance, the future prefix huhas fused with the nominalizer ’al-/’ał- to yield the irrealis nominalizer hal-/hał-. This prefix is attached to nouns the specific existence of which is unknown.20 Use of this prefix can be seen in example (49); the use is different from that in (50), however, in that the irrealis nominalizer is being affixed to an element that is already a noun.21 (49)      

Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 163) ’ašnǝm huput̓a’aw hałwǝ ? ’ašnǝm hu-p-ut̓a’aw hał-wǝ ? when fut-2.sbj-hunt irr.nmlz-deer ‘when are you going to hunt deer?’

Nominalizing prefixes can also be used to form relative clause constructions such as that in example (50). The word ’ałnuna kukamoŋa ‘who is from’ modifies the noun wot ‘captain, chief.’ Note use of the relativizing proclitic ka=. (50)            

Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019: 190) lamunamǝ’ǝk lokawot ka’ałnuna kukamoŋa la=mu-na-mǝ’ǝk lo’ka-wot ka=’ał-nuna bound=neg-prf-far def-captain rel=nmlz-be.from

Cucamonga Cucamonga

’an tšaqtšum lokašʰa’ay̓ ’an tšaqtšum lo’ka-ts-ša’ay̓ foc 3.sbj-like def-3.poss-daughter ‘after a while, the captain of Cucamonga took a fancy to his [the other captain’s] daughter’

20 E.  g., when one entity must be selected from a group, but the selection has not been made. The prefix can be applied to non-referential entities. 21 It is worth noting that verbs in Ventureño can be zero-derived from nouns. Thus, every entity has the potential to be treated verbally.

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51.7 Present state of Chumashan languages This section covers the current state of Chumashan languages. Section 7.1. offers an overview of the most current research being done in each language as well as how that research is supporting current revitalization efforts where they exist. Section 7.2. looks at nominalization, a method of word formation in Ventureño that has been used in language revitalization.

51.7.1 Recent research and language revitalization efforts There are several recent works on Chumashan languages which may be useful to the language learner. First and foremost is Henry’s 2012 Ventureño Chumash pedagogical grammar. It is the most recently published major work aimed primarily at supporting Chumashan language revitalization efforts. The same author (Henry-Rodriguez 2019) also has a Ventureño-English, English-Ventureño dictionary. The dictionary is designed to be useful for both technical and pedagogical purposes. The revitalization effort for Ventureño is in its initial stages; several tribe members speak with a degree of fluency and are involved in the construction of pedagogical materials such as semantic domains and language nests. Ventureño speakers use an adapted form of language nests developed by Zeke Zahir (2018). The Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians (2007) Samala dictionary was also meant to support revitalization efforts, and it has been an invaluable instrument in those efforts. The Santa Ynez Band of Mission Indians operates regular classes in the Samala language, and there are currently several speakers who have a high degree of fluency. Although Whistler’s Barbareño lexicon (1980) was not specifically meant to be used for language revitalization efforts, it has been accessed extensively but a number of Chumash individuals working on language Barbareño revitalization. Currently, both Richard Applegate and the Wishtoyo Chumash Foundation operate formal language courses in Barbareño (called ‘Šmuwič’ on the current Web site) (Wishtoyo Chumash Foundation 2020).22 Dr.  Kathryn Klar currently works with Obispeño (also known as ‘Northern Chumash’) tribe members in the revitalization of their language (personal communication). This revitalization is in its early stages, but it has already gotten some publicity. For example, Cal Poly University in California has given the buildings of one of its student housing facilities Obispeño names (Cal Poly 2020). Such recognition has been beneficial in attracting attention to the Obispeño language revitalization effort.

22 These Barbareño courses are offered to the public.

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51.7.2 Nominalization One of the most important aspects of language revitalization is the formation of new vocabulary. While the elements of grammar may be completely and accurately acquired, they will have limited use if one cannot refer to things around them. A lack of vocabulary proves particularly difficult to overcome if borrowing a large number of words from an unrelated language is undesirable. In Ventureño revitalization efforts, several different methods of word-formation have been proposed. Here, special attention is given to nominalization and the role it plays in revitalization. The examples in section 7.2 are taken from Ventureño revitalization efforts, but the word-formation processes are applicable in part or in whole to other Chumashan languages. Nominalization is the process of forming a noun from a verb or adjective, and Chumashan languages have a number of nominalizing affixes which language revitalizers have already used in forming their own neologisms. Common nominalizing affixes and their uses are addressed in this section. While the discussion here focuses on Ventureño nominalization, it is hoped that similar methods of word-formation can be easily adopted for other Chumashan languages.23 In Ventureño, the common nominalizing affixes are the general nominalizer ’al/’ał-, the agentivizer ʼałʼal-/ʼałʼał-, the locative nominalizer -mu, and the instrumental nominalizer -əʼəš/-aʼaš.24 The meaning each affix imparts is summarized in Table 13 (note that ‘VERB’ refers to whatever verb is being nominalized in a given situation). Examples of native nominalized words are given in examples (51)–(54) (Henry-Rodriguez 2019); both the root verb and the nominalized modifications are presented. Tab. 13: Nominalizing affixes in Ventureño Affix

Meaning

ʼal-/ʼałʼałʼal-/ʼałʼał-mu -VʼVš

‘that which VERBs , ‘an instance of VERBing’ ‘that thing/person who VERBs regularly’ ‘place where VERBing is done’ ‘thing with which VERBing is done’

23 Nominalization is an ongoing topic of interest in Chumashan languages. See also Mithun (2002) and (2016). 24 There are several vowel-harmonized forms of this suffix, but the forms using ə or a seem to be the least conditioned.

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  (51)    

Ventureño (Henry-Rodriguez 2019) Nominalization with ʼal-/ʼałulaxay ’alulaxay ‘to be between’ ‘that which is between’

(52)    

Nominalization with ʼałʼal-/ʼałʼałwat̓ałtə ʼałʼałwat̓ałtə ‘to contradict’ ‘contrarian’

   

ut̓awš ‘to hunt’

(53)    

Nominalization with -mu ka’aš kašmu ‘to be pooled up’ ‘puddle’

(54)    

Nominalization with -aʼaš puł pulaʼaš ‘to dig’ ‘digging tool’

     

The suffix -eʼeš is a less-common form of the instrumental nominalizer ilik̓e(n) ʼilik̓eneʼeš ‘to sit’ ‘buttocks’ (lit., ‘that with which one sits’)

ʼałʼalut̓awš ‘hunter (by profession)’

The types of nominalization in (51)–(54) have proven to be most helpful in the formation of new words by those revitalizing Ventureño. Nominalizations help speakers avoid excessive borrowing from other languages, and the act of forming nominalizations is an opportunity for the language learner to learn about native Chumashan word structure. Several neologisms from the Ventureño revitalization efforts are presented in examples (55)–(57). Accompanying grammatical analyses have been provided. Note that phonological repair and additional affixes such as the causative s(u)- in (55) may be needed to complete the neologism. (55)    

Ventureño neologism using ʼal-/ʼałoriginal root aqtaha ‘to be cold (after being previously warm)’ neologism ’ałsaqtaha ‘refrigerator’

     

Analysis of neologism ʼal-su-aqtaha nmlz-caus-be.cold.after.being.previously.warm

(56)  

Ventureño neologism using -VʼVš (-əʼəš treated as default) original root aqmaxwuhu ‘to pull a string out of one’s mouth between the teeth’ neologism ʼaqmaxwuhunəʼəš ‘floss’

 

Chumashan 

     

Analysis of neologism ʼ-aqmaxwuhu-n-əʼəš nmlz-pull.string.out…-vz.ii-nmlz.instr

(57)    

Ventureño neologism using -mu original root uxpuy ‘to blow/spout water (as out of the mouth)’ neologism ʼuxpuymu ‘faucet’

     

Analysis of neologism ʼ-uxpuy-mu nmlz-blow/spout.water-nmlz.loc

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Constructing new words via nominalization provides language learner insights into Chumashan grammar, and they assist in the mastery of native phonology and morphology.

References Applegate, Richard Brian. 1972. Ineseño Chumash grammar. Berkeley: University of California PhD dissertation. Applegate, Richard Brian. 1976. Reduplication in Chumash. In Margaret Langdon & Shirly Silver (eds.), Hokan Studies: Papers from the first conference on Hokan Languages held in San Diego, California, April 23–25, 1970, 271–284. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Beeler, Madison Scott. 1970. Sibilant harmony in Chumash. International Journal of American Linguistics 36(1). 14–17. Beeler, Madison Scott. 1976. Barbareño Chumash grammar: A farrago. In Margaret Langdon & Shirly Silver (eds.), Papers from the first conference of Hokan languages held in San Diego, California April 23–25, 1970, 251–269. The Hauge: Mouton. Beeler, Madison Scott. & Kathryn Ann Klar. 1977. Cruzeño Chumash: Introduction, grammar, lexicon. Unpublished manusript. Cal Poly. 2020. University housing. www.housing.calpoly.edu/ytt. Chester, King. 1975. The names and locations of historic Chumash villages. The Journal of California Anthropology 2(2). 171–179. Dryer, Matthew S. On the six-way word order typology. Studies in Language 21. 69–103. Harrington, John Peabody. 1974. Sibilants in Ventureño. International Journal of American Linguistics 40(1). 1–9. Harrington, John Peabody. 1986. Volume three: A guide to the field notes: Native American history, language, and culture of Southern California/Basin. In Elaine L. Mills & Ann J. Brickfield (eds.), The papers of John Peabody Harrington in the Smithsonian Institution 1907–1957. Millwood, NY: Kraus International Publications. Henry, Timothy Paul. 2008. From inalienable to indefinite in Mitsqanaqan (Ventureño) Chumash. Santa Barbara: University of California MA thesis. Henry, Timothy Paul. 2012. A pedagogical grammar of Ventureño Chumash: Implementing grammatical theory in grammar writing. Santa Barbara: University of California PhD dissertation. Henry-Rodriguez, Timothy Paul. 2019. A Mitsqanaqan̓ Ventureño-English, English-Mitsqanaqan̓ Ventureño Dictionary.

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Klar, Kathryn Ann. 1977. Topics in historical Chumash grammar. Berkeley: University of California PhD dissertation Mithun, Marianne. 1996. The relativity of time in Barbareño Chumash. Paper presented at the California Indian Conference, Berkeley, California, October 19, 1996. Mithun, Marianne. 1997. The regression of sibilant harmony through the life of Barbareño Chumash. In Jane H. Hill, P. J. Mistry & Lyle Campbell (eds.), The Life of Language: Papers in Linguistics in Honor of William Bright, 221–242. (Trends in Linguistics: Studies and Monographs 108). Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110811155 Mithun, Marianne. 1999. The languages of Native North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mithun, Marianne. 2002. Rhetorical nominalization in Barbareño Chumash. In Lisa Conathan & Teresa McFarland (eds.), Report #12: Proceedings of the 50th Anniversary Conference of the Survey of California and Other Indian Languages, 55–63. Berkeley: University of California. Mithun, Marianne. 2016. Shifting finiteness in nominalization: From definitization to refinitization. In Claudine Chamoreau (ed.), Finiteness and nominalization, 299–324. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. NAA MS 2108, National Anthropological Archives, Smithsonian Institution. Poser, William. 2004. On the status of Chumash sibilant harmony. Unpublished manuscript. Saba Kirchner, Jessica. 2010. Minimal reduplication. Santa Cruz: University of California PhD dissertation. Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians. 2007. Samala-English dictionary: A guide to the Samala language of the Ineseño Chumash people. Santa Ynez, California: Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians. Timbrook, Jan. 2007. Chumash ethnobotany: Plant knowledge among the Chumash people of southern California. Santa Barbara: Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History. Wash, Suzanne Maria. 2001. Adverbial clauses in Barbareño Chumash narrative discourse. Santa Barbara: University of California PhD dissertation. Wishtoyo Chumash Foundation. 2020. Chumash language. www.wishtoyo.org/cp-chumash-language. Whistler, Kenneth W. 1980. An interim Barbareño Chumash dictionary. Unpublished manuscript. WIELD. 2018. Purisimeño-English lexicon. 1st edn. Riverside, California: Western Institute for Endangered Language Documentation. Zahir, Zeke. 2018. Language nesting in the home. In Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge handbook of language revitalization, 156–165. New York & London: Routledge.

Amy Miller

52 Yuman Abstract: Yuman languages are the traditional languages of more than 30 communities in the U.S. and Mexico. This chapter begins with a brief discussion of the location and present situation of Yuman languages and then describes some of their prominent features, including sound systems, the internal structure of words, interrelationships among words, and some basic aspects of grammar that are widespread across the family, including simple sentences, switch reference, and auxiliary verb constructions.

52.1 The Yuman language family Yuman languages are indigenous to what are now southern California, Arizona, and northern Mexico. Relationships among the languages are shown in Table 1. Kiliwa is generally regarded as an isolate within the family. Hualapai and Havasupai are spoken in northern Arizona, and Yavapai in central Arizona.1 Maricopa (known to its speakers as Pee-Posh or Piipaash)2 is spoken along the Gila and Salt Rivers of Arizona, while Mohave/Mojave3 and Kwatsáan are spoken along the Colorado River. Cocopah and Cucapá are spoken primarily in the Colorado Delta region, extending from Somerton, Arizona into northern Baja California and northwestern Sonora, Mexico. ’Iipay, Los Conejos, Northeastern Kumeyaay, and Jamul Tiipay are indigenous to what is now San Diego County, California. La Huerta, Nejí and Ja’a,4 Peña Blanca, San Antonio Necua, San José de la Zorra, and San José de Tecate are spoken in northern Baja California. Paipai, Ko’alh, and Kw’alhy5 are centered in the Indigenous community of Santa Catarina, Baja California. Kiliwa territory lies to their south, in the foothills of the Sierra San Pedro Mártir, but some Kiliwa speakers presently live in Santa Catarina. The ten Yuman speech varieties indicated with an asterisk in Table 1 have long been recognized by U.S. linguists. Most of these ten, plus Jamul Tiipay, are relatively well 1 Hualapai and Havasupai are often regarded as dialects of a single language, but they have distinct practical orthographies, dictionaries, and written literatures. 2 The self-designation Pee-Posh is used in the Gila River Indian Community, and Piipaash in the Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community. Differences between Pee-Posh and Piipaash speech are few and tend to reflect recent divergences (Kelly Washington, p.c.). Both groups identify as Maricopa, and that name is used here for the sake of unity. 3 The self-designation Mojave is used on Fort Mojave Reservation, and Mohave on the Colorado River Indian Reservation. Examples in this chapter are identified as Mohave because of their connection to the latter; see Munro (1976a: ix) and Munro, Brown, and Crawford (1992: 3). 4 Nejí and Ja’a are said to be very closely related to one another. 5 Ko’alh and Kw’alhy are very closely related to one another; see Miller (2018). https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-052

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Tab. 1: Yuman languages (adapted from Miller 2018) Kiliwa* Pai-River subgroup   Pai languages     Paipai* (Paʔipá:y)     Northern Pai languages       Hualapai* (Walapai) and Havasupai*       Yavapai* (varieties include Kwevikopaya [Southeastern], Prescott [Yavpé, Northeastern], Tolkapaya [Western], and Wipuhk’a’bah [Wipukpaya, Verde Valley])   River languages     Mohave*/Mojave     Maricopa* (Pee-Posh, Piipaash)     Kwatsáan* (Quechan, Yuma) Delta-California subgroup   Cocopa languages/speech varieties     Cocopah* (Kwapa, Kwikapa, Cocopa, Arizona Cocopa)     Cucapá (Kuapá)     varieties no longer spoken, such as Kahwan (Kohuana) and Halyikwamai   Kw’alhy-Ko’alh speech varieties     Kw’alhy (Kʷʔaƚʸ, Kw’ally) and Ko’alh (Ku’alh)   Kumeyaay (Diegueño, Kumeyaay/Diegueño) languages     Northern Kumeyaay languages/speech varieties       ’Iipay* (Ipai, Diegueño; varieties include Barona, Iñaja-Cosmit, Mesa Grande, San Pasqual, and Santa Ysabel)       Los Conejos       Northeastern Kumeyaay (Diegueño, Tipai; varieties include Baron Long, Campo, ­’Ewiiaapaayp [Cuyapaipe], Imperial Valley, La Posta, Manzanita, and Sycuan)     Southern Kumeyaay languages/speech varieties       Jamul Tiipay (Jamul Diegueño)       La Huerta (Tipay, Kumiay)       Nejí and Ja’a (Tipey Aa, Kumiay)       Peña Blanca       San Antonio Necua       San José de la Zorra (Tipey Aa, Kumiay)       San José de Tecate (Tipai, Kumeyaay)

documented; see section 52.6. Many others are caught in a cycle of non-recognition and neglect: lacking recognition, they have not been systematically documented. This has left linguists unaware of the extent to which they differ from their better-documented counterparts and has led us to dismiss the lesser-known varieties as dialects or subdialects of the better-known varieties, with the result that the lesser-known varieties have remained un- or under-documented even as the number of their speakers has dwindled drastically. Sound systems of some of the lesser-known speech varieties are discussed by Miller (2018). Most of the examples cited in this chapter are, by necessity, from the better-documented varieties.

Yuman 

 1305

Fig. 1: Yuman languages (from Miller 2018: 387)

52.2 Language situation Yuman languages are endangered — in most cases severely or critically so. The number of fluent native speakers ranges from zero or one to several hundred, depending upon the language; see Table 2. Most are over the age of 50, and very few children speak their traditional language as their first language. For a survey of Yuman language use in Mexico see Leyva (2016), and for information on language use among Kumeyaay groups on both sides of the border see Rodriguez (2020). A survey of Yuman language use in the U.S. is needed. Tab. 2: Fluent speakers per Yuman group (2020 estimate)6 Cocopah, Havasupai, and Hualapai Cucapá, Maricopa (Pee-Posh, Piipaash), Paipai, and Kwatsáan Ko’alh and Kw’alhy, La Huerta, Mohave/Mojave, and San José de la Zorra ’Iipay, Jamul Tiipay, Kiliwa, Los Conejos, Nejí and Ja’a, Northeastern Kumeyaay, San Antonio Necua, and Yavapai

60–250 30–60 10–30 fewer than 10

6 Thanks to Carrie Cannon, Laurie Egan-Hedley, Margaret Field, Charlotte Hills, Elena Ibáñez, Daniela Leyva, Susan Penfield, Joe Rodriquez, Gertrude Smith, and Kelly Washington for helpful information.

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Most Yuman language groups in the U.S. have been split apart by the federal reservation system and spread over two or more reservations, each with its own tribal government. ’Iipay, for instance, is the traditional language of five reservations in San Diego County, most of them separated from the others by 40–60 minutes of driving time; while Yavapai is the traditional language of three reservations located 1–2 hours apart from one another in central Arizona. A number of Yuman groups share reservations with groups speaking unrelated languages: for instance, the Yavapai-Apache Nation is home to Wipuhk’a’bah Yavapai and Dilzhe’e Apache people, and the Colorado River Indian Reservation is shared by Mohave, Chemehuevi, Hopi, and Navajo people. These circumstances have a variety of practical consequences for language maintenance and revitalization. Out of political and practical necessity as well as pride in tribal identity, each reservation typically has its own language program.7 For details on the Hualapai Bilingual/ Bicultural Education Program see Watahomigie and Yamamoto (1987, 1992); and for revitalization strategies among Kumeyaay languages see Gregor and Rodriguez (2017) and Hannon (2020: 26—31). Some of the challenges facing revitalization efforts are discussed by Rodriguez (2020). An inter-tribal forum called the Yuman Language Family Summit (YLFS) is held annually or biennially for the purpose of promoting language maintenance and revitalization. Conference presentations range from theoretical discussions of language planning to hands-on demonstrations of revitalization strategies to relevant topics such as culture, history, and spirituality. The YLFS also features singing, dancing, and other traditional arts; and in some years it incorporates a multi-day language immersion camp. Some Yuman languages are taught in Head Start programs, local schools, and/or colleges and universities such as Kumeyaay Community College and Arizona Western College. The American Indian Language Development Institute (AILDI) was founded in 1978 by Hualapai Tribal member Lucille Watahomigie and others, with the initial goal of providing training in linguistics and curriculum development to Yuman language-speaking teachers and parents (Watahomigie and Yamamoto 1992: 10—17). Its focus soon broadened to include a wide variety of languages and disciplines. AILDI has now trained Indigenous people from almost every state in the U.S. and many countries worldwide. The territories of several Southern Kumeyaay and Cocopa groups traditionally spanned what is now the border between the U.S. and Mexico. Until the second half of the twentieth century Yuman people were able to cross the border freely. Over the past seven decades travel has become increasingly difficult; obstacles now include passport requirements and hours-long waits at border crossings. While members of Yuman groups in Mexico frequently visit U.S. tribes, universities, and the YLFS for the purpose

7 In a number of cases, individual tribal members or groups have undertaken their own revitalization efforts independently of official language programs.

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of sharing language and culture, these visits require planning long in advance, engagement with federal bureaucracies, and considerable time and expense. In Mexico, government and educational agencies such as the Instituto Nacional de Lenguas Indígenas (INALI) and the Sistema de Educación Estatal BC have over the course of the past decade sponsored a number of projects related to the revitalization of Yuman languages (Ibáñez 2020b: 13—15). Recently, however, INALI has withdrawn its support (Elena Ibáñez, p.c.), and no formal revitalization programs are presently underway. A number of Yuman groups nonetheless remain actively engaged in efforts to preserve their culture and traditions; and some fluent speakers teach the language within their extended families and/or in classroom settings. Challenges facing language revitalization efforts in Baja California are discussed by Meyer and Meza (2011), Ibáñez (2020a), and Rodriguez (2020).

52.3 Sounds and orthography 52.3.1 Sound systems Each Yuman language has a unique sound system. A sample is given in (1). (1)        

Maricopa (adapted from Gordon 1986: 6) a. Consonants8   p  t  ṭ  kʸ k  kʷ q  qʷ ʔ  č  s  ṣ  x  xʷ v  ð  m  n  nʸ l  lʸ r  w  y  b. Vowels   i  i: e  e: a: a: o  o: u  u:

Sound systems typically feature a series of voiceless unaspirated stops p, t, ṭ, k, kʷ, q, ʔ and a palatal or pre-palatal affricate č. A number of languages have qʷ, and most languages of the Pai-River subgroup have kʸ. A contrast between dental t and post-dental ṭ is widespread but does not always carry a significant functional load. In Northern Pai languages a series of voiceless aspirated stops and affricate is emerging to contrast with the unaspirated series. Fricatives typically include s; ṣ or š; x or h; and xʷ or hʷ. A number of languages have developed additional fricatives: v (or β) is well established in Pai-River languages and emerging in ’Iipay; ð is found in River languages; θ has emerged in the Northern Pai languages and Mohave/Mojave; and f is found in Hualalpai. Kiliwa has a voiced velar fricative ɣ. From one to four laterals, l, lʸ, ƚʸ, and ƚ, may be found; voiceless laterals are a feature of the Delta-California subgroup borrowed into several Pai-River languages. Non-lateral sonorants typically include m; n or ṇ; nʸ; r; y; and w. Noteworthy contrasts

8 In addition, f and ŋ are found in borrowed words (Gordon 1986: 6).

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have developed in individual languages: ð/θ in Mohave; h/hʷ/x/xʷ in Kiliwa, s/ṣ/š in Cocopah; and r/ẓ/ṣ/š/s in contemporary Paipai (Paʔipá:y) as described by Ibáñez (2015). Vowel systems feature from three to six qualitatively distinct vowels and, in most languages, contrastive length. Cocopah, for example, has vowels i, i:, a, a:, u, u: (Crawford 1989: x), while Hualapai has vowels i, i:, e, e:, æ, æ:, a, a:, o, o:, u, u: (Watahomigie et al. 2001: 17). In San José de la Zorra the vowel length contrast has been all but neutralized, leaving i, e, a, and u plus emergent o and rare a: (Gil 2016: 69—78; Miller 2018: 398— 400). In Yavapai, on the other hand, three degrees of contrastive length are documented (Shaterian 1983: 43—46; Thomas 1992). Phonemic contrasts in tone or pitch accent are reported for Kiliwa (Mixco 2000: 10—11), Mohave (Wares 1968: 33), and Yavapai (Shaterian 1983: 46); see also Langdon (1977b). Also found in Yuman languages is an inorganic vowel known in the literature as “schwa” and sometimes called the “disappearing vowel”. In spite of its name, “schwa” is not always pronounced [ə]. Its phonetic quality usually depends upon its environment; for instance, it is often [i] in palatal environments. It may appear, disappear, or be relocated when prefixes are added to a word, and/or across dialects or idiolects, and/or with changes in speech tempo or register. Linguists may analyze it as epenthetic or subject to elision or both, depending upon the language. In some languages “schwa” is predictable and need not be written. Stress falls on the morphological root, which typically occupies the last syllable of the stem (Langdon 1975). In connected speech stress peaks tend to be evenly spaced and unstressed syllables are compressed to fit between them (Crawford 1966; Redden 1966; Langdon 1977b; Bendixen 1980). Structurally conditioned processes of fortition (strengthening) and lenition (weakening) have taken place over the course of Yuman prehistory, with consequences for the consonant systems of ’Iipay and the Pai-River languages; see Langdon (1975: 223—225); and lenition occurs as a synchronic phonological process in Delta-California languages; see for instance Langdon (1975: 226—228), Bendixen (1980: 142—153), and Miller (2001: 44—48).

52.3.2 Writing systems Many Yuman language communities have developed practical orthographies. Each orthography is unique, reflecting the phonemic system of the language it represents and the preferences of its speakers. And since orthographies are expressions of identity, it is not at all uncommon for a given community to make a point of adopting one or more conventions that differentiate its writing system from that of another group. For these reasons, orthographic symbols have come to be used in disparate ways across Yuman languages. Orthographic th, for instance, represents (inter)dental t in the Piipaash writing system; θ in Havasupai, Hualapai, and Mohave; ð in Kwatsáan; and the phoneme sequence tx in ’Iipay. To forestall confusion and unify the data, practical

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orthographic representations in this chapter are accompanied as needed by phonemic representations in Americanist notation (the conventional notation of the comparative Yuman linguistic literature).9

52.4 Words, and interrelationships among words The lexicon (vocabulary) of a Yuman language reflects its conceptual system: that is, its unique way of perceiving and categorizing the world and the experiences of its speakers. The conceptual systems of Yuman languages differ from that of English — and they also differ in subtle ways from one another. For example, while English has terms brother and sister that classify siblings according to their gender, Hualapai has terms níya ‘older sibling (i.  e., older brother and/or older sister)’ and gínya /kínʸa/ ‘younger sibling, younger cousin (child of one’s mother’s sister or father’s brother)’ (Watahomigie et al. 2003) that classify siblings according to relative age; and Piipaash (Maricopa) uses three terms: nchen /nčen/‘older sibling’, schaa /sča:/ ‘younger brother’, and nyaq /nʸaq/ ‘younger sister’ (O’odham Piipaash Language Program 2000: 16). A given English word may correspond to a variety of terms in a Yuman language. For instance, Crawford (1989: 496) reports a broad range of Cocopah glosses for the English word put, including swa: ‘put down or place a relatively large object of more or less equal dimensions’; cap /čap/ ‘put, place, or throw a relatively small object of more or less equal dimensions’; smi ‘put horizontally a long flat object’; cxʷiƚ /čxʷiƚ/ ‘put wood on a fire or in a stove’; ʔu:piƚʸ ‘put items aside for one’s cremation’; and many others. On the other side of the same coin, a given Cocopah word may have a broad range of glosses in English. The Cocopah word swa:, for instance, is said to mean not just ‘put down or place a relatively large object of more or less equal dimensions’ but also ‘plant (seeds); transplant (seedlings); raise (crops); hold (a dance); send’ (Crawford 1989: 257). Language programs are often asked to translate English expressions into a Yuman language. This is not always easy. Often — and especially in the case of idiomatic expressions such as thank you, welcome to San Diego, or our equity lens — it requires thinking carefully about what the English expression really means, the speaker’s intentions, and cultural or historical factors, and then reconceptualizing the expression within the framework of the Yuman language.

9 See Hinton (1998). Some Americanist symbols differ from their IPA counterparts: c [ts], č [tʃ], kʸ [kʲ], lʸ [ʎ], ƚ [ɬ], ƚʸ [ɬʲ], n [n̪], ṇ [n], nʸ [ɲ], ṛ [ɹ], s [s̪ ] or [s], ṣ a tense (“whistling”) apico-alveolar fricative or [ʂ], depending upon the language or speaker; š [ʃ], t [t̪ ], ṭ [t], and y [j]. For ṣ̌ see Miller (2018: 396). V: represents a long vowel, and V· represents a Paipai variable-length vowel or a Yavapai mid-length vowel. ə represents the inorganic vowel discussed in section 52.3.1. Several ’Iipay and Kwatsáan examples presented in Americanist notation in the cited sources are supplemented here with versions in practical orthography.

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52.4.1 Parts of speech Most Yuman words are either nouns or verbs. Verbs outnumber nouns, and many nouns are of verbal origin. Famously, many Yuman kinship terms are believed to have originated as transitive verbs (Halpern 1942; Langdon 1978b), and verbs of kinship are still found in a number of languages; an example is Mohave vuchii-k /vuči:-k/ ‘have a daughter, call (someone) daughter (of a man)’ (Munro, Brown, and Crawford 1992). Adverbs, conjunctions, particles, and interjections are also found. Words translated into English as adjectives often turn out to be verbs, or nominals of verbal origin (Langdon 1977c: 260).

52.4.2 The internal structure of words A typical word is built around a root. Most roots have the shape CV́C, CV,́ V́C, or V,́ where C represents a consonant and V́ a stressed vowel that may be short or long. The root may be surrounded by any number of prefixes and/or suffixes to form a stem.10 In ’Iipay, for example, the verb stem aakewank /a:kəwank/ ‘turn something over’ is composed of prefixes a:- and k-, root wan, and suffix –k; and the noun stem iichih /i:čix/ ‘heart’ is composed of prefix i:- and root čix (Langdon 1970: 91, 97, 127). Prefixes are more common than suffixes, so the root typically occupies the last syllable of the stem. Another method of word formation involves reduplication (that is, repetition) of the root, or sometimes a larger unit that includes the root (Munro 1979). Reduplication is often associated with repeated action (see 52.4.4.1) or intensity; and many reduplicated forms are ideophones, or expressions of vivid perceptions, as seen in (2).11 (2)        

Mohave (Munro 1979; Munro, Brown, and Crawford 1992) a. lathalath-m /laθəlaθ-m/ ‘make the sound of raindrops falling on a mud house’ b. tawataw i-m /tawətaw i-m/ ‘flash on and off’ c. vinyaviny i-m /vinʸəvinʸ i-m/ ‘be very soft (like mashed banana); wiggle (like jello)’ d. alynumpalynump-k /alʸnumpalʸnump-k/ ‘be wrinkled’

In a process known as sound symbolism, one sound may be substituted for another to express nuances of meaning such as size or intensity (Langdon 1971). Examples of size-related sound symbolism are given in (3).

10 The number of prefixes and suffixes may of course include zero, as in the Cocopah verb stem paṣ ‘touch with the hands or fingers’ (Crawford 1989: 208). 11 Many ideophonic expressions, such as those in (2b,c), occur in a special construction with an auxiliary verb meaning ‘say’; see Langdon (1977a).

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 Hualapai (Watahomigie et al. 2001: 378) a. dimk /rim-k/ ‘shoot something small using a slingshot’   limk /lim-k/ ‘shoot something large using a slingshot’ b. thuvdúyk /θuvruy-k/ ‘be full of small holes’   thuvlúyk /θuvluy-k/ ‘be full of large holes’

In a process known as metathesis, sounds are sometimes transposed within a word; see Langdon (1976). In Cocopah, for instance, some speakers say xṭpa ‘coyote’ while others say ṭxpa; and some say spxu:k ‘eight’ while others say psxu:k (Crawford 1989: 253, 368). Metathesis involving non-adjacent consonants is somewhat less common. A well-known example is the Yavapai word for ‘butterfly’, recorded as hanʸkrâ·pa in the Prescott variety and hanʸkpâ·ra in the Western variety (Langdon 1976: 870; Shaterian 1983: 223). Phrases consisting of a noun followed by a verb may become fixed expressions, often with figurative meaning, as in (4a); see Langdon (1977c). Over time, the noun may be reduced and cliticized to the verb, as in (4b). (4)  

 

Kwatsáan (Halpern 1947c: 154; Miller et al. forthcoming) a. iiwáa ’axótt-k /i:wa: ʔəxoṭ-k/ ‘be happy, glad, satisfied, or contented; feel good; be generous’ (composed of iiwáa ‘heart’ and ’axótt-k ‘be good, right, real or genuine’) b. waaráv-k /wa:=rav-k/ ‘forbid something; guard something jealously; be stingy’ (from iiwáa ‘heart’ and aráav-k ~ aráv-k /əra:v-k ~ ərav-k/ ‘hurt, ache, feel pain’)

Many nouns originated as compounds. Kiliwa nmiʔ-tay ‘cougar, puma’, for instance, is compounded from nmiʔ ‘cat’ and tay ‘large’ (Mixco 2000: 25). The elements of a compound are often shortened or reduced, as in ’Iipay matsay ‘desert’ (from ’emat /ʔəmat/ ‘earth’ and saay /sa:y/ ‘be dry’) (Langdon 1970: 135). Reduction and shortening may reduce the transparency of a compound — and if metathesis subsequently takes place, the resulting form may be fully opaque.12 An example is Cocopah xàspáy ‘well, spring, waterhole’, compounded from xa ‘water’ and spay ‘where it emerges’ (which in turn comes from spa ‘emerge’) (Crawford 1989). Xàspáy may be reduced to xspay, and some speakers use the metathesized form sxpay, in which the original components of the word are far from obvious. New terminology is readily created to express new concepts. New terms may originate as descriptive phrases; an example is Mohave iidoo kuchevny /i:ðo: kučevnʸ/ ‘dentist [lit. the one who doctors teeth]’ (Munro, Brown, and Crawford 1992). Metaphor and metonymy are common: for instance, Los Conejos ’ehaa kwenyilly /ʔəxa: kʷənʸiƚʸ/ ‘coffee’ literally means ‘water that is black’ (Miller and Langdon 2008), and Cocopah 12 See Langdon (1990: 60—61). Langdon’s form əmilʸ xətun, misidentified as Jamul, appears to come instead from a variety of ’Iipay.

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nʸixú kʷa:kúƚʸ ‘elephant’ literally means ‘nose that is long’ (Crawford 1989). Words for new concepts may also be borrowed; for instance, La Huerta gayi:n ‘chicken’ (Hinton 1976: 104) is borrowed from Spanish gallina ‘hen’. Alternatively, the meaning of an existing term may be broadened to encompass new ideas. The Kwatsáan word uuvar’é-k /u:vərʔe-k/, for example, was recorded in the 1930s with the meaning ‘stand on one’s hind legs; kneel’, but today it can also mean ‘pray’ and, for some speakers, ‘be a Christian, hold Christian religious services, preach’ (Miller et al. forthcoming).

52.4.3 Citation forms In languages of the Pai-River subgroup, verbs are usually cited with a suffix: –k in Havasupai (where it is spelled –g in practical orthography) and Hualapai; –k or –m in Mohave, Maricopa, and Kwatsáan; and –i following consonant-final stems in Yavapai. Some languages have a number of bound stems that require a pronominal prefix in order to be felt to be complete words.

52.4.4 Derivation: Forming complex words from more basic ones From simpler or more basic words it is often possible to derive more complex words with different but related meanings, such as pluractionals and plural-participant verb forms, causatives, nominalizations, plural noun forms, and/or denominal verbs. Derivation may involve changing the form of the word in complicated and unpredictable ways. One or more prefixes may be integrated into the prefix structure of the stem; suffixes may be added; and/or the vowel of the root may undergo a process known as ablaut. Ablaut refers to a variety of changes that may affect the root vowel (Langdon 1989): a short vowel may be lengthened; a long vowel may be shortened; in some languages the quality of the vowel may change (with or without a change in length); and in some languages diphthongs may alternate with monophthongs. Various types of ablaut may be observed in Table 4 below.13 Many of the derivational markers (prefixes, suffixes, and ablaut) used in pluractional and plural-participant verb formation resemble derivational markers used in the formation of causatives, nominalizations, and plural noun forms. This is most likely not accidental; see for instance Langdon (1970: 136—138) and Munro (1976a: 228—261) as well as sections 52.4.4.3 and 52.4.4.4 below.

13 In Table 4, a short root vowel is lengthened by ablaut in the dual and plural-subject forms of ‘break’, while a long root vowel is shortened in the dual form of ‘eat’ and the plural-subject form of ‘read’. A root vowel undergoes a change in quality in the dual form of ‘flee’ and the plural-subject form of ‘drink’ and a change in both length and quality in plural-participant forms of ‘die’.

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Often, multiple derivational markers may be found in a given derived form. In the remainder of this section, relevant derivational affixes appear in boldface, and ablauted vowels are underlined.

52.4.4.1 Pluractional and plural-participant verb forms Pluractional and plural-participant verb forms (collectively known as “plural verb forms” or simply “plurals” in the Yuman literature) are associated with a broad range of notions across the languages, including collective, dual, paucal, and/or multiple subject; collective object; a number of distinct objects; distribution of action across subject and object; repeated action; multiple actions spread over space and/or time; and/or habitual action.14 For a comparative study see Langdon (1992). In some cases, the marking of verbal number is relatively simple and straightforward. Hualapai, for instance, has a large class of verbs that take a suffix –č (written –j in practical orthography) to indicate participant plurality, and that undergo reduplication to indicate continual, habitual, or repeated action (Watahomigie et al. 2001: 233—246). Examples are given in Table 3. Tab. 3: Some Hualapai pluractional and plural-participant verb forms (from Watahomigie et al. 2001: 233—246) Gloss

Basic verb form

Plural-participant form

Continual/habitual/repeated action form

‘sing’ ‘step on’ ‘knead dough’

swa:dk /swa:r-k/ jagji:k /čakči:-k/ mu:dk /mu:r-k/

swa:djk /swa:rč-k/ jagji:jk /čakči:č-k/ mu:djk /mu:rč-k/

swa:dk swa:dk /swa:r-k swa:r-k/ jagjì:-jagjí:k /čakčì:čakčí:-k/ mù:d-mú:dk /mù:rmú:r-k/

In other cases, the marking of verbal number is more complex, and formal patterns and do not always correlate with semantic notions in a straightforward way. In Maricopa, for instance, most verbs have a derived form that indicates dual subject and another that indicates “plural” subject (numbering three or more), and some verbs also have “plural action” forms that express repeated or habitual action and/or plurality of object (Gordon 1986: 21—22, 90—102). These are formed using derivational markers (prefixes, suffixes, and/or ablaut of the root vowel) singly or in combination. Gordon identifies a range of morphological patterns associated with each of the three verbal number

14 Terms used in the description of verbal number, such as “continual,” “collective,” and “distributive”, tend to be defined in different ways in different language descriptions and do not always have the meanings stipulated in more recent theoretical literature.

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categories but reports that for the most part “the distribution of the individual markers [within these categories] appears to be lexically determined” (1986: 90). Examples illustrating the formal complexity of the situation are given in Table 4. Tab. 4: Some Maricopa pluractional and plural-participant verb forms (from Gordon 1986: 90—102) Gloss

Verb form

Dual form

Plural-subject form

Plural action form

‘break’

haw-k /xaw-k/

haaw-k /xa:w-k/

uuhaaw-k /u:xa:w-k/

 

‘die’

puy-k

pooy-k /po:y-k/

uupooy-k /u:po:y-k/

 

‘drink’

sii-m /si:-m/

sish-k /siṣ-k/

uuseev-k /u:se:v-k/

 

‘eat’

maa-m /ma:-m/

mash-k /maṣ-k/

uumaav-k /u:ma:v-k/

maash-k /ma:ṣ-k/ ‘eat often’

‘flee’

skyiny-k /skʸinʸ-k/

tsuukyany-k /tsu:kʸanʸ-k/

askyiny-k /askʸinʸ-k/

 

‘help’

wik-k

 

 

shuuwiik-k /ṣu:wi:k-k/ ‘be helpful’

‘hit’

aham-m /axam-m/

ahamsh-k /axamṣ-k/

ashuuham-k /aṣu:xam-k/15

ashham-k /aṣxam-k/ ‘beat, beat up; hit (plural object)’

‘go’

yem-k

nyem-k /nyem-k/

ayem-k /ayem-k/

 

‘leave’

nmak-m

nmaksh-k /nmakṣ-k/

ntuumaak-k /ntu:ma:k-k/

 

‘read’

chaa-k /ča:-k/

chaash-k /ča:ṣ-k/

uuchash-k /u:čaṣ-k/

 

‘sleep’

shmaa-m /ṣma:-m/

uushmaa-m /u:ṣma:-m/

atshmash-k /atṣmaṣ-k/15

shmaash-k /ṣma:ṣ-k/ ‘be a sleepyhead’

Many languages have a small number of verb stems that alternate with formally unrelated stems to express participant plurality; see Langdon (1988). The Kiliwa verb sit ‘exit’, for instance, alternates with t-i-pat /t-i-pat/ ‘exit (plural subject)’, while h-ñuu /h-nʸu:/ ‘kill one’ alternates with tčaw ‘kill several’ (Mixco 2000: 16).

15 In later unpublished work on Maricopa the plural subject forms of shmaa-m and aham-m are reported as atshmaash-k /atṣma:ṣ-k/ and ashuuhaam-k /aṣu:xa:m-k/ respectively, each with a long stressed vowel. Thanks to Kelly Washington for pointing this out.

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52.4.4.2 Causatives Causative verb forms typically indicate that an agent causes, enables, or allows an event to occur. In some languages causatives are formed from more basic stems by prefixation. In Hualapai, for instance, duvk /ruv-k/ ‘be dry’ has causative form dadúvk /taruv-k/ ‘dry (something)’, and viyámk /viyam-k/ ‘run’ has causative form jiviyámk /čiviyam-k/ ‘make (something/someone) run’ (Watahomigie et al. 2001: 276—293). In other languages causative formation is more complicated, often involving prefixation, suffixation, and/or ablaut of the root vowel, as exemplified in (5). (5)          

Jamul Tiipay (Miller 2001: 89—99) nesu /nəsu/ ‘become calm, quiet’ → nuusu /nu:su/ ‘caress, soothe’ saaw /sa:w/ ‘eat’ → uusáwa /u:sáwa/ ‘feed’ xelkay /xəlkay/ ‘be smooth’ → texelaakáya /təxəla:káya/ ‘make smooth’ p’aw /pʔaw/‘stand; step; (for rain to) fall’ → shpa’áwa /špaʔáwa/ ‘stand something up’16 shema /šəma/ ‘sleep’ → shaamácha /ša:máča/ ‘put to bed’

52.4.4.3 Nominalizations Nouns are readily formed from verbs. In some cases, a verb stem may be used as a noun stem with no formal modification. For instance, the stem xamáaly /xəma:lʸ/ of the Kwatsáan verb xamáaly-k ‘be white’ may be used as a noun meaning ‘a white one’ (Halpern 1947c: 161), and ’Iipay helul /xəlul/ ‘play the flute’ may be used as a noun meaning ‘flute’ (Langdon 1970: 133). Nominalizations on the subject typically take a prefix kʷ-/ku-/k- (in some languages represented orthographically as gw-/g-), as in (6). They often occur in compounds, as in (6b). (6)    

Paipai (Joel 1966: 64—65) a. rav ‘one is sick’ → krav ‘invalid’ b. švo· ‘one watches over’ → mu-kšvo· ‘shepherd’ (cf. mu ‘sheep’)

In some languages, kʷ-/ku-/k- may be accompanied by additional derivational morphology, which may include prefixes, suffixes, and/or ablaut of the root vowel. (7)    

Los Conejos (Miller and Langdon 2008) cheyuw /čəyuw/ ‘he sings’ → kwechcheyaaw /kʷəččəya:w/ ‘singer’ shuuhwiw /ṣu:xʷiw/ ‘he steals something’ → kweshuuhwiiwp /kʷəṣu:xʷi:wp/ ‘thief’

16 The underlying form is //špa:ʔáwa//. Long vowels are shortened before glottal stop (Miller 2001: 35).

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Nominalizations on non-subject arguments are formed in various ways. In some languages, they are typically formed by suffixation, as in (8), and often occur in compounds, as in (8b). (8)    

Paipai (Joel 1966: 67) a. tñur /ṭnʸur/ ‘one takes a picture’ → tñuru· /ṭnʸuru·/ ‘camera’ b. čwañ /čwanʸ/ ‘one cleans (tuna fruits)’ → xte·-čwañu· /xṭe·-čwanʸu·/ ‘tuna cleaner (for de-thorning tuna fruits)’ (cf. xte· ‘tuna fruit’)

In other languages, they may be formed by prefixation, suffixation, and/or vocalic ablaut, as in (9), and may occur in compounds, as in (9c). (9)      

Los Conejos (Miller and Langdon 2008) a. shemaa /ṣəma:/ ‘he sleeps, he is asleep’ → sha’maach /ṣaʔma:č/ ‘bedding; bedroom’ b. wesaaw /wə-sa:w/ ‘he eats (meat or chewy food)’ (cf. wə- ‘third person subject’) → a’suw /aʔsuw/ ~ ’aasuw /ʔa:suw/ ~ suw ‘food’ c. wettak /wə-ṭak/ ‘it opens’ (cf. wə- ‘third person subject’) → ’ewa’ttaak /ʔəwaʔṭa:k/ ‘door; gate’ (cf. ’ewaa /ʔəwa:/ ‘permanent structure, house with a foundation’)

Nominalizations like those in (6) most likely originated as subject relative clauses; their prefix kʷ-/ku-/k- is transparently related to a relativizing prefix of the same shape.17 Complex nominalizations like those in (7) and (9) probably arose long ago from pluractional verb forms that have more recently become obsolete.18

52.4.4.4 Plural forms of nouns We saw in section 52.4.4.1 that a variety of number distinctions are expressed on verbs. Nouns, on the other hand, tend to be neutral with regard to number.19 The Kwatsáan word takshé /təkṣe/, for example, can mean ‘gopher’ or ‘gophers’, and kwanxó /kʷənxo/ can mean ‘basket’ or ‘baskets’. Plural noun forms are relatively rare and tend to be verbal in origin (Langdon 1992: 406—407). For instance, Kwatsáan shuumáats /ṣu:ma:c/ ‘dream (noun)’ has plural form shatuumáts /ṣətu:mac/ ‘dreams’. Shuumáats is technically a nominalization of shamáa-k /ṣəma:-k/ ‘dream (verb), have a dream’, and shatuumáts is a nominalization of the pluractional form shatamáts-k /ṣətəmac-k/ ‘dream (habitually), be a dreamer’ (Miller et al. forthcoming; Halpern 1947c: 164—165). 17 See for instance Munro (1976a: 187—191). For references to the literature on relative clauses see section 52.6. 18 See for instance Miller (2001: 119, 124). 19 A prominent exception to this generalization is Hualapai; see Langdon (1992) and Watahomigie et al. (2001: 159—165).

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52.4.4.5 Verbs derived from nouns In some cases, verbs may be formed from nouns. One widespread method involves suffixation of –y, as seen in (10). (10)    

Kiliwa (Mixco 2000: 20) čpaa /čpa:/ ‘agave stalk’ →čpaa-y /čpa:-y/ ‘[be] full of agave stalks’ haq ‘bone, stem’ →haq-y ‘[be] rigid, bonelike’

52.5 Phrases, sentences, and connected speech A simple sentence may consist of just a verb (with appropriate prefixes and/or suffixes).20 Some prefixes indicate person of subject and/or object; see (11a, b). In many languages third person is unmarked. It is not unusual to find homophony within the personal prefix paradigm; for instance, in Yavapai the prefix nʸ- ‘1>2’ (written ny- in practical orthography) is homophonous with the prefix nʸ- ‘3>1’, with the result that (11b) may be analyzed as either 1>2-see ‘I see you’ or 3>1-see ‘He sees me’ (Munro 1996: 180—183).21 Of course, it is possible to add noun phrases to the sentence to specify the subject and/or object, as in (11c, 14, 15, 17). Independent pronouns — such as ’nyáche in (11c) — are typically used for clarification, contrast, or emphasis. (11)        

Yavapai (adapted from Munro 1996: 180—183) a. ’’Úu.   ʔ-ʔu:   1-see   ‘I see him.’

20 The following abbreviations are used in interlinear glosses in this chapter: 1 first person (I, me, my, we, us, our); 2 second person (you, your); 3 third person (he, she, they, it, him, her, them, his, her, their, its); 1>2 first person subject and second person object; 3>1 third person subject and first person object; ali alienably possessed; assrt assertive; aux auxiliary; def definite; dem demonstrative; dpl/m the Kwatsáan formal category known as “distributive plural” (Halpern 1947b), now most often used to indicate multiple subject; ds different subject; du dual subject; emph emphasis; imv imperative; inc incompletive; irr.emph emphatic form of the irrealis marker; nom nominative (for present purposes, subject); pl pluractional or plural-participant verb form; pl.obj plural object; poss possessive; pp past/ present; Q question marker; real realis; sj subject; tns tense; vaug vowel augment; vs neutral verbal suffix. A hyphen indicates a morpheme boundary, the symbol = a clitic boundary, and the symbol | a prosodic boundary. Segmentation and glossing follow the original, except that in accordance with the requirements of this volume I have made an effort to distinguish clitics from affixes. I have provided segmentation and/or interlinear glossing for examples (11a,b, 12—13, 15, 16a,b, 18, 20—21, 24, 27, 31—34, 36). See also note 9. 21 Homophony between 1>2 and 3>1 prefixes is widespread and traces back to Proto Yuman; see Hinton and Langdon (1976: 120—128).

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b.       c.      

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Ny’úu. nʸ-ʔu: 1>2-see (also analyzable as 3>1-see) ‘I see you.’ (also means ‘He sees me.’) ’Nyáche ny’úu. ʔnʸa=če nʸ-ʔu: me=nom 1>2-see ‘I see you.’

In many languages, a prefix k- in the personal prefix paradigm marks an imperative with a second person subject, as in (12). (12)        

San José de la Zorra (adapted from Gil 2016: 101) ktpu k-ṭpu imv-pull ‘¡Jálalo [pull it]!’

Number may be expressed through the use of a plural-participant or pluractional verb stem, as in (13a). Some languages also have a special prefix or proclitic that indicates a human or animate plural object. Both strategies are used in (13b). In many languages the expression of number is optional. (13)                

Kwatsáan (adapted from Bryant and Miller 2013: 76, 97) a. … piipáats oov’ótsk soov’ótsəm …   pi:pá:=c o:vʔóc-k s=o:vʔóc-m   person=sj stand.dpl/m-ss over.there=stand.dpl/m-ds   ‘… there were people standing over there …’ b. Nyiinytatpóoyxá!   nʸi:-nʸ-tətpó:y-xá   pl.obj-1>2-kill.several-irr.emph   ‘I will kill you (plural)!’

Verbs are often followed by verbal suffixes, final suffixes, and/or enclitics that may encode a variety of modal, aspectual, temporal, adverbial, syntactic, and/or discourse notions. When noun phrases are used in a sentence, the neutral word order is subject object verb, as seen in (14). (14)        

Havasupai (Hinton 1984: 115) Baa-h-j θəbála má-g+wi. pa:=h=č θəpála ma-k=wi man=dem=sj peach eat-ss=do ‘The man is eating a peach.’

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Word order is not rigid, however; see for instance Langdon (1970: 165—166), Munro (1976a: 24—28), Hardy (1979: 14), Gordon (1986: 74—76), and Miller (2001: 353—354). In some languages it is not uncommon in natural speech for a noun phrase to be extraposed and found at the end of the sentence or discourse unit, as in (15). (15)        

Kwatsáan (adapted from Halpern and Miller 2014: 370—371) Xuumáar nyiinamíilək a’ét, | xam’uulóləts. xu:ma:r nʸi:-nami:l-k əʔe-t xəmʔu:lol=c children pl.obj-comfort-ss say-assrt cricket=sj ‘He comforted the children, they say, | the cricket (did).’

52.5.1 Possessive markers on nouns Prefixes on the noun mark person of possessor, as shown in (16).22 In some languages, an additional prefix is used to indicate that the possession is alienable (i.  e., non-permanent or optional), as in (16b). A noun phrase naming the possessor may be added to the construction, as in (16c).23 (16)                  

Mohave (adapted from Munro 1976a: 16—18) a. ʔ-intay   1-mother   ‘my mother’ b. m-nʸ-utis   2-ali-gun;bow   ‘your gun’ c. ʔinʸep ʔ-nʸahmaruy   my 1-shoes   ‘my shoes’

52.5.2 Case marking A case marker may follow a noun phrase to indicate the grammatical function or semantic role of the noun phrase in the clause. In Hualapai, the case marker –č (written –ch in practical orthography) marks a subject noun phrase; see (17).24 A demonstrative or determinative morpheme may precede the case marker, as in (17b,c). 22 See Langdon (1978b) for the origin of possessive prefixes and the possessive construction. 23 The Mohave prefix indicating person of possessor “seems to be optional” when the possessor is identified by a noun phrase (Munro 1976a: 16—18). In (16c) ʔinʸep is glossed ‘my’ following Munro, Brown, and Crawford (1992: 203). 24 Brackets have been added to (17a,c) to demarcate internally complex subject noun phrases.

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Hualapai (adapted from Watahomigie et al. 2001: 39, 226, 341) a. Nya dálach viyámkyu.   [nʸa tála]=č viyám-k=yu   [1 father]=sj 3.run-ss=aux.be   ‘My father is running.’ b. Ólohch John gadóhkwi.   ólo=h=č John katoh-k=wi   horse=dem.that=sj John 3>3.kick-ss=aux.do   ‘The horse kicked John.’ c. Misí’ qéchach sála qáwkwiny.   [misiʔ qečʰ]=a=č sal=a qaw-k=wi-nʸ   [girl 3.be.little]=def=sj 3.arm=def 3>3.break-ss=aux.do-past   ‘The little girl broke her arm.’

Another common case marker is –m, often translated ‘with’, ‘by means of’, ‘to’, or ‘from’; see (18). Most languages have in addition one or more of the case markers –k, -lʸ, and -i (or their cognates) that indicate location, destination, or origin; examples are given in (19–21). Some languages have vocative case markers. (18)        

Ko’alh (adapted from Mariscal, Miller, and Ibáñez 2017, line 187) Ñaahy shelhm məyelh. nʸa:=ç ṣ̌eƚ=m məyeƚ I=sj hand=by.means.of make.tortillas. ‘I make them [i.  e., tortillas] by hand.’

(19)      

Verde Valley Yavapai (Kendall 1976: 69) ʔwa:=v=k ya:m-č-km house=dem=from come-pl-inc ‘They were coming out of the house.’

(20)        

Ja’a (adapted from E. Meza and Miller 2017, line 63) Jttpady jalhy məspa. xṭpa=č xa=ƚʸ məspa coyote=sj water=in die ‘Coyote died in the water.’

(21)        

’Iipay (adapted from Couro and Langdon 1975: 137, 230) Heyaay Tekemákvi ’enyechewayp. xəya:y təkəmak=v=i ʔə-nʸəčəwayp long.ago Mesa.Grande=dem=at 1-live.pl ‘Long ago we used to live at Mesa Grande.’

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In many languages,25 direct and indirect object noun phrases take no case marker, as in (22). They may, however, take a demonstrative/determinative enclitic, as in (23) — and in some languages a demonstrative/determinative enclitic without a following case marker is diagnostic of objective case. (22)      

Mohave (Munro 1976b: 44—45) imak=lʸ inak-k hučqol ʔama ay-m … outside=in sit-ss children milk give-ds ‘They sat outside and gave milk to the children …’

(23)      

La Huerta (Hinton 1976: 102, 104) pərəxa:w=xa=č gayi:n=xa u-sa:w nʸa-pa:-č-m … fox=dem=sj chicken=dem 3-eat when-arrive-pp-ds ‘When the fox arrived to eat the chickens …’

Genitive is typically indicated by word order: the genitive noun precedes the head noun, as in Cocopah ʔayá: šma ‘roots of a tree’ (Crawford 1989: 395), composed of ʔaya: ‘tree; willow’ and šma ‘root’.

52.5.3 Clause connecting and switch reference Utterances often take the form of series of connected clauses, as in (24). (24)

Ja’a (adapted from Y. Meza and Miller 2017, lines 124—125) … Pi ñaap a’óowa cham study, | pi nʸa:p aʔó:wa čam stu=č here my son’s.children all gather=ss … I gather all my grandchildren here, | səmaap tapaady, | ayiwdy, | shkuyáawədy …. səma:p tapa:=č ayiw=č ṣ̌kuyá:w=č borrow.several be.moving.about=SS bring=SS teach.several=ss I go about borrowing them, | and I bring them, |and I teach them …

The device most widely used for connecting clauses is switch reference marking (Langdon 1970, 1978a). Switch reference marking generally indicates whether two clauses — a dependent clause and a reference clause — have the same subject or different subjects. In certain complex sentences in Maricopa (Gordon 1986: 115—129), for instance, a suffix -k on the verb of a dependent clause indicates that it has the same subject as a reference clause, as in (25a), while a suffix -m indicates that the two clauses have different subjects, as in (25b). 25 Two exceptions are Paipai and Kiliwa; see Joel (1966: 54) and Mixco (2000: 25).

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Maricopa (Gordon 1986: 116) a. Kafe ’-sish-k pastel ’-mash-k.   kafe ʔ-siṣ-k pastel ʔ-maṣ-k   coffee 1-drink.du-ss pie 1-eat.du-real   ‘We (2) drank coffee and ate pie.’ b. Kafe ’-sish-m pastel mash-k.   kafe ʔ-siṣ-m pastel maṣ-k   coffee 1-drink.du-ds pie eat.du-real   ‘We (2) drank coffee and they (2) ate pie.’

Switch reference marking is not always as straightforward as the examples in (25) might suggest, and while much has been written about the details of its use (see for instance Slater [1977], Langdon and Munro [1979], Munro [1981], Hardy [1983], Gordon [1983, 1986], and Miller [1997, 2001]), further work — especially discourse-based work — is needed. The syntactic characteristics of switch reference constructions differ in subtle ways across Yuman languages. The constructions themselves are usually described as involving coordination, subordination, and/or “loose embedding”, and switch reference markers are analyzed as verbal suffixes in some languages and as enclitics in others. Switch reference constructions serve a wide range of functions, some of which are described here. They often link clauses that are temporally related (e.  g., denoting sequential, simultaneous, or overlapping events), as seen above and below. They also help to structure information. For instance, noun phrases may be spread out over a number of switch-reference-linked clauses, as in (26). A series of linked clauses may call attention to different aspects of a single event, as in (27). Background information is often presented in different-subject-marked dependent clauses, as in (28). (26)        

Hualapai (Watahomigie et al. 2001: 414) Nyach vo:k jigmi:ml ya:myuny. nʸa=č vo:-k čikmi:m=l ya:m=yu-nʸ I=sj 1.walk-ss canyon=into 1.go=aux.be-past ‘I walked down into the canyon (lit. I walked and into the canyon I went).’

(27)        

Los Conejos (adapted from Miller and Langdon 2008: 136) Kewaaylly wechanch waam. kəwa:y=ƚʸ wə-čan=č w-a:m area.below=into 3-descend=ss 3-go.away ‘He is going down below (lit. he is descending into the area below, going away).’

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Jamul Tiipay (adapted from Miller 2001: 235) Nyanaach xa tuuyakm nekxap netepach. nʸa-na:=č xa t=u:-yak=m nəkxap nətəpač when-go.pl=ss water t=3-be.lying=ds enter.pl come.out.pl ‘As they went on, they went through some water (lit. as they went on, water was lying there, and they went in and out of it).’

Dependent clauses may function as reason clauses, as in (29), or serve a modifying function, as in (30a). Some are most idiomatically translated into English as complement clauses — even though this does not reflect their structure26 or their literal meaning27 — as exemplified in (30b, 31—32). (29)        

Maricopa (Gordon 1986: 279) Sny’ak-v-sh pily-m puy-k. snʸʔak=v=ṣ pilʸ-m puy-k woman=dem=sj (be.)hot-ds die-real ‘That woman died from the heat (lit. that woman died because it was hot).’

(30)                

Jamul Tiipay (adapted from Miller and Langdon 2008: 673 and Miller 2001: 315) a. Nyadumiingchm vool uuniiw rráawches.   nʸa-dumi:ŋ=čm vo:l.u:ni:w ra:w=čəs   when-be.Sunday=ds play.baseball.pl used.to.pl=emph   ‘They used to play baseball on Sunday.’ b. Puuch wesaawch wechaw.   pu:=č wə-sa:w=č wə-čaw   that.one=sj 3-eat=ss 3-finish   ‘He finished eating.’

(31)        

’Iipay (adapted from Couro and Langdon 1975: 162) Maapch helulm ’eyip. ma:p=č xəlul-m ʔə-yip someone=sj play.the.flute-ds 1-hear ‘I heard someone playing the flute.’

(32)        

Kwatsáan (adapted from Miller et al. forthcoming) Uunáak xányənyts aamínym uuyóovk. u:ná:k xa=nʸənʸ=c a:mínʸ-m u:yó:v-k sit.dpl/m water=def=sj pass.by-ds watch.dpl/m-vs ‘They sat and watched the water go by.’

26 Like most Yuman languages, Jamul Tiipay, ’Iipay, and Kwatsáan have nominalized complement clause constructions that are syntactically distinct from switch-reference constructions; see section 52.6 for references. 27 More literal translations of (30b—32) are ‘he ate and he finished,’ ‘someone played the flute and I heard it,’ and ‘they sat, water passed by, and they watched it’ respectively.

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52.5.4 Auxiliary verb constructions Most Yuman languages feature a variety of auxiliary verb constructions. The two best known are: the “locational” auxiliary construction and the “behavioral” auxiliary construction (Langdon 1978a; Norwood 1981). In both of these constructions, a main verb is typically linked to an auxiliary verb by same-subject switch reference marking (though as a systematic exception switch reference marking has been lost from the locational auxiliary construction in Kumeyaay languages such as Los Conejos; see [34]). The main verb is marked for person of subject and (if appropriate) object, while the auxiliary is intransitive and marked only for person of subject. In the examples below, auxiliaries appear in boldface. In the “locational” auxiliary construction, an auxiliary verb typically indicates the position, orientation, or motion of the subject, and typically conveys aspectual information as well. Those in (33—35) connote imperfective aspect. (33)        

Mohave (adapted from Munro, Brown, and Crawford 1992: 200) ’Ich ’asiitk vi ’iv’awk. ʔič =ʔ-asi:t-k vi=ʔ-iv’aw-k something=1-read-ss this.way=1-stand-tns ‘I’m reading (standing up).’

(34)                

Los Conejos (adapted from Miller and Langdon 2008: 88, 368) a. Maach mepyuur temwaa?   ma:=č mə-pyu:ṛ təmwa:   you=sj 2-sew 2.be.sitting   ‘Are you sewing?’ b. ’Enyaa nyakewii tapaa.   ʔənʸa: nʸ-akəwi: tapa:   me 3>1-chase 3.be.moving.about   ‘He’s chasing me.’

(35)        

Kiliwa (Mixco 2000: 17) M-smaa-t m-yaq. m-sma:-t m-yaq 2-sleep-ss 2-lie ‘You’re sleeping.’

The “behavioral” auxiliary construction typically involves auxiliary verbs meaning ‘be’, ‘do’, and ‘say’. These auxiliaries are often reduced in stress and cliticized to the main verb, as in (36—37). In Hualapai (Watahomigie et al. 2001: 66—88), the behavioral auxiliary -wi ‘do’ usually follows a transitive verb whose object is a patient affected by the action of the verb, while -yu ‘be’ is associated with intransitive verbs and –i ‘say’ with verbs of vocal activity. A fourth behavioral auxiliary –yi ‘feel’ is associated with verbs of emotion. Certain main verbs, such as gana:k /kana:-k/ ‘point out; blame’, allow a choice

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among auxiliaries, and that choice conveys subtle nuances of meaning and perhaps evidentiality, as seen in (36). (36)                                

Hualapai (Watahomigie et al. 2001: 85) a. Misí’hch gana:kyu.   misiʔ=h=č kana:-k=yu   girl=dem=sj 3>3.blame-ss=aux.be   ‘The girl is blaming it (and that’s the fact).’ b. Misí’hch gana:kwi.   misiʔ=h=č kana:-k=wi   girl=dem=sj 3>3.blame-ss=aux.do   ‘The girl is blaming it (by some drastic action, e.  g., crying or throwing a tantrum).’ c. Misí’hch gana:ki.   misiʔ=h=č kana:-k=i   girl=dem=sj 3>3.blame-ss=aux.say   ‘The girl is blaming it (by telling so or saying so, and that’s why I know this).’ d. Misí’hch gana:kyi.   misiʔ=h=č kana:-k=yi   girl=dem=sj 3>3.blame-ss=aux.feel   ‘The girl is really blaming it (and that’s the way she is feeling).’

In some languages only traces remain of the behavioral auxiliary construction. In ’Iipay, for instance, an inflected form of auxiliary yu ‘be’ is used as an interrogative marker in questions with second person subject such as (37a), while a reduced and invariant form of the same auxiliary construction is used as an interrogative marker in questions with third person subject such as (37b) (Langdon 1978a: 111). (37)                

’Iipay (Langdon 1978a: 111)28 a. Mesúwchmeyu?   m-suw-č=m-yu   2-eat-ss=2-be   ‘Did you eat?’ b. Wsúwchu?   w-suw=ču   3-eat=q   ‘Is he eating?’

Across languages, the behavioral auxiliary construction is used for a wide variety of grammatical, semantic, and discourse purposes and has been the historical source of

28 Americanist notation is used in the source material. See note 9.

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numerous grammatical suffixes, enclitics, discourse markers, and conjunctions; see for instance Crawford (1976), Langdon (1978a, 1985), Hardy (1983), Gordon (1986), and Miller (1994, 2001).

52.6 Other points of interest Within a language, it is normal and expected to find differences in pronunciation, word formation, and syntax across generations, locations, families, and even across individual speakers; see for instance Shaterian (1983: 9—10), Miller (1990), and Miller et al. (forthcoming). Many Yuman languages feature head-internal relative clauses and/or other types of nominalized clauses that may be used as verbal complements; see for instance Langdon (1970: 176—181), Couro and Langdon (1975: 184—192), Gorbet (1976), Munro (1976a: 187—223), Gordon (1986: 227—265), Miller (1997: 26—27, 2001: 201—225), and Watahomigie et al. (2001: 168—170). Predicate nominal constructions are found in most languages; see for instance Munro (1977), Langdon (1991), Miller (2001), and Watahomigie et al. (2001). Within individual languages and across the family, a small number of segments including k, m, lʸ, and č (and their cognates) are found in a wide range of grammatical morphemes. The segments k and m, for instance, are widely used as directional suffixes, case markers, and switch reference markers, as well as in a variety of language-specific functions. This situation is addressed by Langdon (1970), Gorbet (1976), Kendall (1976), Munro (1976a), Winter (1976), and Ichihashi-Nakayama (2004), among others. Some basic reference works on individual languages are listed in Table 5. For a more extensive bibliography please consult Langdon (1996a) and the references and further readings listed at end of this chapter. Many Yuman tribes have or are developing extensive additional language materials for the use of tribal members.

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Tab. 5: Some basic reference works on individual Yuman languages Kiliwa Paipai Hualapai Havasupai Yavapai Mohave/Mojave Maricopa (Piipaash, Pee-Posh) Kwatsáan Cocopah ’Iipay Los Conejos Northeastern Kumeyaay Jamul Tiipay San José de la Zorra San José de Tecate

Mixco (1985, 2000, 2020); Estrada and Farldow (2007) Joel (1966); Ibáñez (2015) Redden (1966a,b); Watahomigie et al. (2001, 2003) Hinton (1984) Hardy (1979); Shaterian (1983); Munro (1996) Munro (1976a); Munro, Brown, and Crawford (1992) Gordon (1986); O’odham Piipaash Language Program (2000) Halpern (1946a,b,c, 1947a,b,c); Miller (1997); Miller et al. (forthcoming) Crawford (1966, 1989); Bendixen (1980) Langdon (1970); Couro and Hutcheson (1973); Couro and ­Langdon (1975); Gorbet (1976); Miller and Langdon (2008) Miller and Langdon (2008) Gorbet (1976); Epstein and Langdon (1996) Miller (2001); Miller and Langdon (2008) Gil (2016) Meza and Meyer (2008)

References Bendixen, Brigitte Holt. 1980. Phonological and temporal properties of Cocopa. PhD dissertation, University of California, San Diego. Bryant, George & Amy Miller. 2013. Xiipúktan (first of all): Three views of the origins of the Quechan people (World Oral Literature Series 5). Cambridge, U.K.: Open Book. Couro, Ted & Christina Hutcheson. 1973. Dictionary of Mesa Grande Diegueño. Banning: Malki Museum Press. Couro, Ted & Margaret Langdon. 1975. Let’s talk ’Iipay Aa. Ramona: Ballena Press. Crawford, James M. 1966. The Cocopa language. PhD dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Crawford, James. M. 1989. Cocopa dictionary. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 114). Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press. Crawford, Judith G. 1976. The reduction of idú: ‘be’ in Mohave. In James E. Redden (ed.), Proceedings of the first Yuman Languages Workshop, 45—54. (University Museum Studies 7). Carbondale: Southern Illinois University. Epstein, Richard & Margaret Langdon. 1996. English-Campo and Campo-English Kumeyaay dictionary. Unpublished manuscript. Estrada Ramírez, Arnulfo & Leonor Farldow Espinoza. 2007. Diccionario práctico de la lengua Kiliwa. Ensenada: Instituto Nacional de Lenguas Indígenas. Gil Burgoin, Carlos Ivanhoe. 2016. Problemas fonológicos del kumiai de San José de la Zorra: Segmentos, sílabas, y acento. PhD dissertation, El Colegio de México. Gorbet, Larry Paul. 1976. A grammar of Diegueño nominals. New York and London: Garland. Gordon, Lynn. 1983. Switch reference, clause order, and interclausal relationships in Maricopa. In John Haiman & Pamela Munro (eds.), Switch reference and universal grammar, 83—104. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Gordon, Lynn. 1986. Maricopa morphology and syntax. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 108). Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press.

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Gregor, Theresa L. & Stanley Rodriguez. 2017. Revitalizing critically endangered languages in California: Case study and promising practices. In Joely Proudfit & Nicole Quinderro Myers-Lim (eds.), On Indian ground: California, 101–120. Charlotte: Information Age Publishing. Halpern, A[braham] M. 1942. Yuma kinship terms. American Anthropologist 44. 435—551. Halpern, A[braham] M. 1946a. Yuma I: Phonemics. International Journal of American Linguistics 12(1). 25—33. Halpern, A[braham] M. 1946b. Yuma II: Morphophonemics. International Journal of American Linguistics 12(3). 147—151. Halpern, A[braham] M. 1946c. Yuma III: Grammatical processes and the noun. International Journal of American Linguistics 12(4). 204—212. Halpern, A[braham] M. 1947a. Yuma IV: Verb themes. International Journal of American Linguistics 13(1). 18—30. Halpern, A[braham] M. 1947b. Yuma V: Conjugation of the verb theme. International Journal of American Linguistics 13(2). 92—107. Halpern, A[braham] M. 1947c. Yuma VI: Miscellaneous morphemes. International Journal of American Linguistics 13(3). 147—166. Halpern, A[braham] M. and Amy Miller. 2014. Stories from Quechan oral literature. (World Oral Literature Series 6). Cambridge, U.K.: Open Book. Hannon, Ella. 2020. Indigenous language revitalisation and cultural identity in the context of modern America: the Kumeyaay/Diegueño of San Diego County. Undergraduate dissertation, Trinity College, Dublin. Hardy, Heather K. 1979. Tolkapaya syntax: Aspect, modality, and adverbial modification in a Yavapai dialect. PhD dissertation, University of California, Los Angeles. Hardy, Heather K. 1983. The use of auxiliaries as a cohesive device in Tolkapaya. In James E. Redden (ed.), Proceedings of the 1982 Conference on far western American Indian languages, 15—22. (Occasional Papers on Linguistics 11). Carbondale: Southern Illinois University. Hinton, Leanne. 1976. The tar baby story (Diegueño). In Margaret Langdon (ed.), Yuman texts., 101—106. (International Journal of American Linguistics: Native American Texts Series1(3). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hinton, Leanne. 1984. Havasupai songs: A linguistic perspective. (Ars Linguistica 6). Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag. Hinton, Leanne. 1998. A history of orthography in Yuman linguistics, with special reference to Northern Pai. In Leanne Hinton & Pamela Munro (eds.), Studies in American Indian languages: Description and theory, 23—31. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 131). Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Hinton, Leanne & Margaret Langdon. 1976. Subject-object pronominal prefixes in La Huerta Diegueño. In Margaret Langdon & Shirley Silver (eds.), Hokan studies, 113—128. The Hague and Paris: Mouton. Ibáñez Bravo, María Elena. 2015. Descripción fonológica de la lengua paʔi:pá:y. Tesis de licenciatura, Escuela Nacional de Antropología y Historia, Mexico D.F. Ibáñez Bravo, María Elena. 2020a. Diagnóstico de bilingüismo de hablantes de herencia en la lengua paipai. MA thesis, Universidad Autónoma de Baja California. Ibáñez Bravo, María Elena. 2020b. Reflexiones en materia de políticas y planificación lingüística en lenguas yumanas en Baja California. Manuscript in the author’s possession. Ichihashi-Nakayama, Kumiko.2004. Grammaticalization of ‘to’ and ‘away’: A unified account of –k and –m in Hualapai. In Ellen Contini-Morava, Robert S. Kirsner & Besty Rodríguez-Bachiller (eds.), Cognitive and communicative approaches to linguistic analysis, 261—273. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Joel, Dina Judith. 1966. Paipai phonology and morphology. PhD dissertation, University of California, Los Angeles. Kendall, Martha B. 1976. Selected problems in Yavapai syntax: The Verde Valley dialect. New York and London: Garland.

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Langdon, Margaret. 1970. A grammar of Diegueño: The Mesa Grande dialect. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 66). Berkeley: University of California Press. Langdon, Margaret. 1971. Sound symbolism in Yuman languages. In Jesse Sawyer (ed.), Studies in American Indian languages, 149—173. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Langdon, Margaret. 1975. Boundaries and lenition in Yuman languages. International Journal of American Linguistics 41(3). 218—233. Langdon, Margaret. 1976. Metathesis in Yuman languages. Language 52(4). 866—883. Langdon, Margaret. 1977a. Semantics and syntax of expressive ‘say’ constructions in Yuman. In Kenneth Whistler (ed.), Proceedings of the third annual meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society, 1—11. Berkeley: Berkeley Linguistics Society. Langdon, Margaret. 1977b. Stress, length, and pitch in Yuman languages. In Larry Hyman (ed.), Studies in stress and accent, 239—259. (Southern California Occasional Papers in Linguistics 4). Los Angeles: Department of Linguistics, University of Southern California. Langdon, Margaret. 1977c. Syntactic change and SOV structure: The Yuman case. In Charles N. Li (ed.), Mechanisms of syntactic change, 255–290. Austin and London: University of Texas Press. Langdon, Margaret. 1978a. Auxiliary verb constructions in Yuman. Journal of California Anthropology Papers in Linguistics 1. 93–127. Langdon, Margaret. 1978b. Origin of possession markers in Yuman. In James E. Redden (ed.), Proceedings of the 1977 Hokan-Yuman languages workshop, 33—42. (Occasional Papers on Linguistics 2). Carbondale: Southern Illinois University. Langdon, Margaret. 1985. Yuman ‘and’. International Journal of American Linguistics 51. 491—494. Langdon, Margaret. 1988. Number suppletion in Yuman. In William Shipley (ed.), In honor of Mary Haas, 483—496. Berlin, New York, and Amsterdam: Mouton de Gruyter. Langdon, Margaret. 1989. Vowel ablaut and its functions in Yuman. In Mary Ritchie Key & Henry M. Hoenigswald (eds.), General and Amerindian ethnolinguistics, in remembrance of Stanley Newman, 219—228. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Langdon, Margaret. 1990. Morphosyntax and problems of reconstruction in Yuman and Hokan. In Philip Baldi (ed.), Linguistic change and reconstruction methodology, 57—72. Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter. Langdon, Margaret. 1991. Yuman predicate nominals revisited. In Sandra Chung & Jorge Hankamer (eds.), A festschrift for William Shipley, 169—181. Santa Cruz: Syntax Research Center. Langdon, Margaret. 1992. Yuman plurals: From derivation to inflection to noun agreement. International Journal of American Linguistics 58(4). 405—424. Langdon, Margaret. 1996a. Bibliography of the Yuman languages (1995 update). In Victor Golla (ed.), Proceedings of the Hokan-Penutian Workshop, 135–159. (Report 9). Berkeley: Survey of California and Other Indian Languages. Langdon, Margaret & Pamela Munro. 1979. Subject and (switch-)reference in Yuman. Folia linguistica 13. 321—344. Leyva González, Ana Daniela. 2016. La configuración sociolingüística de las lenguas yumanas de Baja California. In María del Carmen Enriqueta Márquex Palazuelos, David Guadalupe Toledo Sarracino & Lázaro Gabriel Márquez Escudero (coords.), Experiencias en lenguas e investigación del siglo XXI, 402—413. Mexicali: Universidad Autónoma de Baja California. Mariscal Aguiar, Daria, Amy Miller & María Elena Ibáñez Bravo. 2017. Making tortillas. In Margaret Field & Amy Miller, Documentation of the Baja California Languages Kumeyaay and Ko’alh. Endangered Languages Archive, School of Oriental and Asian Studies, University of London. https://elar.soas.ac.uk/ Record/MPI1230606 (accessed 19 December 2020). Meyer, Paula & Jon Meza Cuero. 2011. Indigenous language revitalization in Tecate, Baja California; A narrative account. In Tania Granadillo & Heidi A. Orcutt-Gachiri (eds.), Ethnographic contributions to the study of endangered languages, 57—76. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.

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Meza, Emilia & Amy Miller. 2017. Coyote and quail. In Margaret Field & Amy Miller, Documentation of the Baja California Languages Kumeyaay and Ko’alh. Endangered Languages Archive, School of Oriental and Asian Studies, University of London. https://elar.soas.ac.uk/Record/MPI1230613 (accessed 19 December 2020). Meza Calles, Yolanda & Amy Miller. 2017. Cuidando niños. In Margaret Field & Amy Miller, Documentation of the Baja California Languages Kumeyaay and Ko’alh. Endangered Languages Archive, School of Oriental and Asian Studies, University of London. https://elar.soas.ac.uk/Record/MPI1230623 (accessed 19 December 2020). Meza Cuero, Jon & Paula Meyer. 2008. Tipai language-English-Spanish word list. San Diego: San Diego Unified School District. Miller, Amy. 1990. Some differences between two speakers of Jamul Diegueño. In James E. Redden (ed.), Proceedings of the 1990 Hokan-Penutian Languages Workshop, 23—31. (Occasional Papers on Linguistics 15). Carbondale: Southern Illinois University. Miller, Amy. 1994. Conjunctions and reference tracking in Yuma. In Margaret Langdon (ed.), Proceedings of the meeting of the Society for the Study of the Indigenous Languages of the Americas and the Hokan-Penutian workshop, 183—198. (Report 8). Berkeley: Survey of California and Other Indian Languages. Miller, Amy. 1997. Introduction. In A[braham] M. Halpern, Kar’úk: Native accounts of the Quechan mourning ceremony, 1—38. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 128). Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press. Miller, Amy. 2001. A grammar of Jamul Tiipay. (Mouton Grammar Library 23). Berlin and New York: Mouton. Miller, Amy. 2018. Phonological developments in Delta-California Yuman. International Journal of American Linguistics 84(3). 383—433. Miller, Amy, A[braham] M. Halpern, George Bryant, and the Quechan Tribe. forthcoming. A Kwatsáan dictionary. University of Nebraska Press. Miller, Amy and Margaret Langdon. 2008. Barona inter-tribal dictionary: ’Iipay Aa Tiipay Aa uumall. Lakeside: Barona Museum Press. Mixco, Mauricio J. 1985. Kiliwa dictionary. (Anthropological Papers 109). Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Mixco, Mauricio J. 2000. Kiliwa. (Languages of the World/Materials 193). Munich: Lincom Europa. Mixco, Mauricio J. 2020. Gramática kiliwa. Manuscript in the author’s possession. Munro, Pamela. 1976a. Mojave syntax. New York and London: Garland. Munro, Pamela. 1976b. Two stories by Nellie Brown. In Margaret Langdon (ed.), Yuman texts, 42—50. (IJAL Native American Texts Series 1.3). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Munro, Pamela. 1977. From existential to copula: The history of Yuman be. In Charles N. Li (ed.), Mechanisms of syntactic change, 445—490. Austin: University of Texas Press. Munro, Pamela. 1979. Reduplication in Mojave—and Yuman. In James E. Redden (ed.), Proceedings of the 1978 Hokan languages conference, 42—55. (Occasional Papers on Linguistics 5). Carbondale: Southern Illinois University. Munro, Pamela. 1981. Mojave k and m: It ain’t necessarily so. In James E. Redden (ed.), Proceedings of the 1980 Hokan languages workshop, 123—129. (Occasional Papers on Linguistics 9). Carbondale: Southern Illinois University. Munro, Pamela. 1996. Sketch of Yavapai (especially Tolkapaya). In Victor Golla (ed.), Proceedings of the Hokan-Penutian Workshop, 179—187. (Report 9). Berkeley: Survey of California and Other Indian Languages. Munro, Pamela, Nellie Brown & Judith G. Crawford. 1992. A Mojave dictionary (Occasional Papers in Linguistics 10). Los Angeles: UCLA Department of Linguistics. Norwood, Susan Ann. 1981. Progressives in Yuman and Romance. PhD dissertation, University of California, San Diego.

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O’odham Piipaash Language Program. 2000. Piipayk m’iim: A Maricopa vocabulary and phrase book. https:// www.srpmic-nsn.gov/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/Piipaash-Phrasebook.pdf (accessed 23 August 2020). Redden, James E. 1966a. Walapai I: Phonology. International Journal of American Linguistics 32(1). 1—16. Redden, James E. 1966b. Walapai II: Morphology. International Journal of American Linguistics 32(2). 141—163. Rodriguez, Stanley. 2020. Kumeyaay language loss and revitalization. EdD dissertation, University of California, San Diego and California State University, San Marcos. Shaterian, Alan William. 1983. Phonology and dictionary of Yavapai. PhD dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. Slater, Carol. 1977. The semantics of switch-reference in Kwtsaan. In Kenneth Whistler (ed.), Proceedings of the Third Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society, 24—36. Berkeley: Berkeley Linguistics Society. Thomas, Kimberly Diane. 1992. Vowel length in Yavapai. MA thesis, University of California, Los Angeles. Wares, Alan Campbell. 1968. A comparative study of Yuman consonantism. The Hague and Paris: Mouton. Watahomigie, Lucille J. & Akira Y. Yamamoto. 1987. Linguistics in action: the Hualapai Bilingual/Bicultural Eduacation Program. In Donald D. Stull & Jean J. Schensul (eds.), Collaborative research and social change: Applied anthropology in action, 77—98. Boulder: Westview Press. Watahomigie, Lucille J. & Akira Y. Yamamoto. 1992. Local reactions to perceived language decline. Language 61(1). 10—17. Watahomigie, Lucille J., Jorigine Bender, Philbert Watahomigie Sr. & Akira Y Yamamoto. 2001. Hualapai reference grammar (revised and expanded edition) (ELPR Publications Series A2-003). Kyoto: Endangered Languages of the Pacific Rim. Watahomigie, Lucille J., Jorigine Bender, Malinda Powskey, Josie Steele, Philbert Watahomigie & Akira Y. Yamamoto. 2003. A dictionary of the Hualapai language. (ELPR Publications Series A2-041). Kyoto: Endangered Languages of the Pacific Rim. Winter, Werner. 1976. Switch-reference in Yuman languages. In Margaret Langdon & Shirley Silver (eds.), Hokan studies, 165—175. The Hague and Paris: Mouton.

Other readings of interest For the most recent bibliography of Yuman languages, see Langdon (1996a). More recent readings of interest are listed below and under References above. Volumes indicated with an asterisk contain papers too numerous to list individually. *Buszard-Welcher, Laura (ed.). 2002. Proceedings of the meeting of the Hokan-Penutian Workshop. (Report 11). Berkeley: Survey of California and Other Indian Languages. Caballero, Gabriela and Qi Cheng. 2017. Marcación de persona en el kumiai de Ja’a. Memorias del VIII Congreso de Idiomas Indígenas de Latinoamérica, 26–28 de octubre de 2017, Universidad de Texas en Austin. https://www.ailla.utexas.org/islandora/object/ailla%3A256169 (accessed 23 August 2020). Field, Margaret. 2012. Kumeyaay language variation, group identity, and the land. International Journal of American Linguistics 78. 557—573. Field, Margaret (ed.). 2019. Footsteps from the past into the future: Kumeyaay stories of Baja California. San Diego: San Diego State University Press. *Golla, Victor (ed.) 1996. Proceedings of the Hokan-Penutian workshop. (Report 9). Berkeley: Survey of California and Other Indian Languages. Halpern, A[braham] M. 1997. Karʔúk: Native accounts of the Quechan mourning ceremony. Edited by Amy Miller & Margaret Langdon. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 128). Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press.

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*Hinton, Leanne (ed.) 1997. The Hokan, Penutian, and J. P. Harrington conferences and the Mary R. Haas memorial. (Report 10). Berkeley: Survey of California and Other Indian Languages. *Hinton, Leanne & Pamela Munro (eds.). 1998. Studies in American Indian languages: Description and theory. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 131). Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Ibáñez Bravo, María Elena. 2017. Descripción de estatus fonológico de los segmentos [ i̯ ] y [ u̯ ] de la lengua paʔipá:y. Cuadernos de Linguistica de El Colegio de Mexico 4(1). 181—209. Langdon, Margaret. 1996b. Some mysteries in the reconstruction of Proto Yuman. Proceedings of the Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society. 90—103. Langdon, Margaret & Dell Hymes. 1998. Mesa Grande ’Iipay oratory and narrative. In Jane H. Hill, P.J. Mistry & Lyle Campbell (eds.), The life of language: Papers in linguistics in honor of William Bright, 307—324. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Mai, Anna, Andrés Aguilar & Gabriela Caballero. 2018. Ja’a Kumiai. Journal of the International Phonetic Association. https//doi.org/10.1017/S0025100317000536. Miller, Amy. 2016. A phonological sketch of the Ja’a variety of Nejí Kumeyaay. Manuscript in the author’s possession. Mixco, Mauricio. 2006. The indigenous languages. In Don Laylander & Jerry D. Moore (eds.), The prehistory of Baja California: Advances in the archaeology of the forgotten peninsula, 24—41. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. Quechan Language Preservation Program & Amy Miller. 2013. Kwatsáan iiyáa mattkuu’éeyk! (Learn the Quechan language!). https://www.quechantribe.com/documents/documents/ TheIntermediate-BeginnersQuechanDictionary.pdf (accessed 23 August 2020). Sánchez Fernández, Manuel Alejandro. 2016. Deixis espacial y demonstrativos en la lengua paipai. MA thesis, Universidad de Sonora. Watahomigie, Lucille J. & Teresa L. McCarty. 1996. Literacy for what? Hualapai literacy and language maintenance. In Nancy H. Hornberger (ed.), Indigenous Literacies in the Americas: Language Planning from the Bottom Up, 95—113. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Winter, Werner. 1998. Walapai (Hualapai) texts. (Native American Texts Series 2). Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Winters, Harry J., Jr. 2018. Maricopa place names. Tucson: SRI Press.

Eric Elliott and David Leedom Shaul

53 Uto-Aztecan

Abstract: Uto-Aztecan (UA) is a family of Native American languages spoken in the Western United States, Mexico, and Central America. All UA languages are derived from a single language, known as Proto-Uto-Aztecan (PUA), spoken long ago, in Southern and Central California. The UA languages are often grouped into two large branches, Northern Uto-Aztecan (NUA) and Southern Uto-Aztecan (SUA). The NUA languages are further divided into the following branches or groupings: Takic, Numic, Tübatulabal, and Hopi. The Takic grouping is divided into Cupan and Serran, with Tongva [Gabrielino] perhaps outside Cupan and Serran but within a Takic grouping. The SUA languages are divided into the following branches: Tepiman, Tarahumaran, Opatan, Yoemian, Coracholan, Nahuan, Jova [Jobal, Oba], and Tubar. Tübatulabal, Hopi, Jova, and Tubar are isolates within the UA family. The modern UA languages share common phonological and morphological features, and basic root structure. The vitality of UA languages is greater in Mexico than in the United States, although much progress has been made with some NUA languages in revitalization.

53.1 The Uto-Aztecan family and internal diversity The Uto-Aztecan language family (hereafter, UA), as its name implies, extends from the Utes in the north (Utah) to the Aztecs in the south (Mexico). In terms of geographic extent and numbers of speakers at the end of the 15th century, UA is one of the main language families of the Americas. The major languages and groupings are given in Figure 1. 1.                            

Northern Uto-Aztecan languages a. Numic   a.i. Western/Northern Numic     a.i.1. Mono/Owens Valley Paiute (California/Nevada north of Death Valley)     a.i.2. Northern Paiute (western Nevada into Oregon)     a.i.3. Bannock (southern Idaho)   a.ii. Central Numic     a.ii.1. Timbisha/Panamint (areas around Death Valley)     a.ii.2. Shoshone/Shoshoni (central Nevada into central/northern Utah and western Wyoming)     a.ii.3. Comanche (western Texas) a.iii. Southern Numic     a.iii.1. Kawaiisu (east of Bakersfield, CA)     a.iii.2. Southern Paiute-Ute dialect group       a.iii.2.a. Chemehuevi (eastern California west of Needles, CA       a.iii.2.b. Southern Paiute (from Las Vegas, NV into northern Arizona and into eastern Utah)

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-053

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a.iii.2.c. Northern Ute (just southeast of the Salt Lake and into northwestern ­Colorado)   b. Hopi (northeast Arizona)   c. Tübatulabal (in the Serra Nevada, just east of Porterville, CA)   d. Takic Language grouping (Southern California; Hill and Hill 2019)     d.i. Tongva [Gabrielino]     d.ii. Serrano Branch       d.ii.1. Serrano(-Vanyume?)       d.ii.2. Kitanemuk     d.iii. Cupan Branch       d.iii.1. Luiseño-Juaneño       d.iii.2. Cahuilla (Desert, Pass, and Mountain dialects)       d.iii.3. Cupeño 2. Southern Uto-Aztecan Languages [(a) to (f) are geographically ‘middle’ languages]   a. Tepiman Branch (Shaul 2000)     a.i. O’odham language (Akimel/Pima and Tohono macrodialects; southern Arizona)     a.ii. Sonoran O’otam (northern-most part of the State of Sonora, Mexico; see Shaul 2018)     a.iii. Ati Piman     a.iv. Nevome/Onabas Piman (central Sonora)     a.v. Oob No’ok (mountains between Sonora and Chihuahua)     a.vi. Northern Tepehuan     a.vii. Tepecano (Mason 1916)     a.viii.Southwestern and Southeastern Tepehuan   b. Opatan Branch (Shaul 2010)     b.i. Teguima/Opata language (Shaul 2020a, 2020b)     b.ii. Eudeve/Dohema language   c. Jova   d. Yoemian/Cahitan Branch     d.i. Yoeme (Yaqui)     d.ii. Mayo     d.iii. Cahita   e. Tarahumaran Branch     e.i. Raramuri/Tarahumara (diverse dialects)     e.ii. Guarijio (Mountain and River dialects)     e.iii. Tubar Language   f. Coracholan-Nahuan Subfamily     f.i. Cora(n) (nine dialects; really a subfamily in itself)     f.ii. Huichol (dialects, but less diversity than Coran)     f.iii. Nahuan Branch       f.iii.1. Pochutec (near the Pacific Ocean Coast in the State of Oaxaca, Mexico)       f.iii.2. Nahuatl/Nahua/Nahuat/Mexicano (many dialect clusters in central Mexico, and Pipil in El Salvador, with much diversity) Fig. 1: List of Uto-Aztecan Languages

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There are a number of books that discuss UA (Langacker 1977; Steele 1979; Campbell 1997; Mithun 1999: 539–549; Golla 2011: 169–188; Shaul 2014); together, they supply an essential bibliography up to 2015. Major works after 2000 are too numerous to list here; this bibliographic coverage is supplied by the section introductions in Shaul (2021), a comprehensive survey of literatures from all of the extant UA languages. The UA cognate sets of Miller (1967) have been replaced with the work of Stubbs (2011). The amount of documentation on each UA language varies considerably from a tradition of large, comprehensive grammars (Classical Nahutal) and large, copious dictionaries (for example: Elliott 1999 and Hopi Dictionary Project 1998) to more limited resources. Golla (2011: 169) gives a compact history of UA studies with other references on the topic.

53.2 Common phonological and morphological features of Uto-Aztecan languages In a language family as diverse as UA, it is impossible to mention all the linguistic traits that are typical and possibly reconstructable for Proto-Uto-Aztecan (PUA), a reconstructed parent language from which the languages derived. In-depth coverage of phonology and regular UA sound correspondences (corresponding sounds that occur in cognate words) is in Stubbs (2011: 11–46). The most notable coverage of UA morphology and syntax is Langacker (1977), although he does not include the seminal work of Heath (1977, 1978, 1985) on verb derivation.

53.2.1 Phonology of Uto-Aztecan languages The consonant system of PUA is shown in Table 1. (In examples below, traditional and/ or official spelling systems are used for the UA cited.) Tab. 1: Proto-Uto-Aztecan consonant system Type

Labial

Dental

Alveolar

Velar

Stop/Affricate

p 

t 

ts

k 

Fricative

 

s 

 

 

Liquid

 

 

n/l

 

Nasal

m 

n 

 

ŋ 

Glide

w 

 

y 

 

Post-Velar kw

ɂ h 

ŋw  

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PUA reconstructions may have word-medial *-n/r-, which means the referent has -n- in Northern languages and -r- or -l- in southern languages; for example, ‘stand’ is *wene ~ *weLe (Stubbs no. 2138), which is reflected in Hopi and Shoshone wene and Raramuri wiri. PUA vowels were five in number: */i e u o a/. The written is roughly the central vowel of English, as in put or the as in English pet. The first value, the of English put (with lips flat instead of rounded), is found in almost all the northern languages, while the second, the vowel as in English pet, is found in most of the southern languages except for Tepiman, which retains the central vowel throughout the branch. The PUA value is the central vowel (the of English put (lips flat), Campbell and Langacker 1978). Vowel length is phonemic in most UA languages. Curiously, a long vowel in other UA languages will appear short in the Tepiman cognates. Some reconstructions will have *-a/i at the end to symbolize i-ablaut (see the section on verb roots and structure below).

53.2.2 General root structure for Proto-Uto-Aztecan UA typically derives words from consonant-vowel-consonant(-vowel) roots, which we can abbreviate to CVC(V). There is also evidence for some roots with a CVCCV structure and some with a CVCVC structure (with final consonants); see Stubbs (2011: 11–46) for the most complete and accurate treatment of this. UA roots may take a few derivational prefixes, and a whole array of derivational suffixes (see Langacker 1977). To illustrate, Stubbs (2011: no.  238) reconstructs a root *mana/*mani ‘stumble, roll (over), fall over/off/down’, and a root *mana ‘put (flat/lying down)’, which has the most common shape (CVCV). A speaker of Luiseño [’Atáaxum Pomtéela, Chamtéela], a NUA Cupan language of Southern California, would still recognize the ancient PUA root *mana in the modern Luiseño word máana ‘to stumble’. Nahuatl has mani ‘to extend over a surface’. Some ancient roots have the shape CV, such as *pa ‘water’ (Stubbs: no. 389). Cahuilla [‘Ívillu’at], a NUA Cupan language of Southern California, has pál ‘water’, analyzable as pá-l ‘water-absolutive’. Yet, Cahuilla has many other words clearly derived from the old root *pa plus some other derivational suffixes, such as paqi’ ‘sprout’, páni’ ‘be misty, foggy’, and páti ‘get a pot- belly, be bloated’. Some CVCV roots may be traceable back to an older CV root plus a derivational suffix. Compare *yu ’hair’ from Luiseño and Cupeño [Pá’enexily], a NUA Cupan language of Southern California, with Luiseño yúuli ‘to thread a needle’, and Cupeño yútin ‘to stand something up (like hair hanging from one’s scalp), to build’, and even Luiseño yúuyit ‘snow’, which falls vertically like hair. In the sections that follow, examples are mostly from Cupan languages (as a representative of NUA) and Classical Nahuatl (as a representative of SUA).

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53.2.3 Nouns: Roots, structure and absolutives Noun roots are generally of the shape CVCV. For example, Cahuilla has súngama’ ‘daughter (man speaking)’, analyzable as súnga-ma’ ‘female-diminutive’. Luiseño has şungáal ‘woman’, and Juaneño sungwāl /soŋwáal/, or (more likely) /şuŋwáal/ ‘woman’ (Buschmann 1856: 507), and Classical Nahuatl cihuātl /síwaatɬ/ ‘woman’, all of which may be traced back to *sona1sg ‘you to me’, for example, is transparently composed of the second person singular agent -hs- ‘you’ and the first person singular -g-/-k-. The prefix gǫ-/kǫ- 1sg>2sg ‘I to you’, however, clearly contains the first person singular g-/k- ‘I’, but an otherwise unknown element -ǫ-. Neuter participants are represented in the pronominal prefixes only when there is no other participant. Speakers do not make judgments about control and affectedness as they speak: the choice between agent and patient pronominal prefixes is lexicalized, learned with each verb. In most cases the rationale behind the categories is clear, but sometimes it has become obscure over time. The verb ‘drive’, for example, always appears with patient prefixes, as seen above: ag-éʔdreʔ/ak-éʔtreʔ ‘I’m driving’. This is because it was originally used for riding in a horse and buggy, literally ‘it is dragging me’. With respect to aspect, verbs in Cayuga and related languages fall into two groups: event verbs and stative-only verbs. Event verbs appear in three aspects: habitual, perfective, and stative. Stative-only verbs appear only in the stative aspect. Event verbs which describe a discernible change, like handwashing, generally have perfect meanings in the stative aspect: they describe a current state that is the result of a past event (‘I have washed my hands’ = ‘my hands are clean’). These appear with patient prefixes. (23)      

Cayuga aspects: event verb Habitual g-ahtsóhais Perfective ę-g-ahtsoháiʔ Stative Perfect ag-ahtsoháiʔ

k-ahtsóhais ę-k-ahtsoháiʔ ak-ahtsoháiʔ

‘I wash my hands’ ‘I’ll wash my hands’ ‘I have washed my hands’

agent patient agent

Another special characteristic of Iroquoian languages is noun incorporation, whereby a noun stem is compounded with a verb stem to form a new verb stem. It is pervasive in the Northern Iroquoian languages, and traces remain in Cherokee. Incorporation is done for a purpose. It can create terms for significant concepts, particularly recurring activities. The verb stem -ahtsy-ohai- ‘hand-wash’ in (23) above contains the incorporated noun -ahtsy- ‘palm’. The verb ‘berrypick’ in (24) contains the incorporated noun root -ahy- ‘fruit, berry’. (24)        

Cayuga noun incorporation Gahyá:gwahs k-ahy-a-kw-ahs 1sg.agt-berry-lk-get-hab ‘I’m berrypicking.’

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Noun stems for body parts are often incorporated to specify the location of an effect on a person or animal, like ‘hand-wash’ above. The noun stems -yaʔt- ‘body’ and -ʔnikǫhr‘mind’ appear in many verb stems to indicate physical or mental effects respectively. With such incorporation, the person affected remains a core argument of the verb, rather than the body part. (25)        

Cayuga noun incorporation Hoyʔadǫdáʔtaʔ. ho-yaʔt-ǫtaʔt-haʔ m.sg.pat-body-shake-hab ‘He is shivering.’

(26)        

Cayuga noun incorporation Agʔnikǫháędaʔs. ak-ʔnikǫhr-a-yęt-aʔs 1sg.pat-mind-lk-lie-ben ‘it has mind-settled me’ = I understand’

Incorporation in Iroquoian languages is pervasive, but it is a word formation device. Speakers know which combinations exist and which do not. Often they have idiomatic meanings. It is thus important for second-language learners to be aware of the difference. (27)        

Cayuga noun incorporation Deyoʔnigǫhawę́:nyaʔt. te-yo-ʔnikǫhr-awęry-aʔt dv-n.pat-mind-stir-caus ‘It is entertaining.’

Incorporated nouns have no syntactic role as subject, object, etc. They do not carry distinctions of number or definiteness. Like dependent members of compounds in other languages, they simply narrow the meaning of the head, making it more specific. In these languages, verbs containing incorporated nouns may occur with referring expressions outside of the verb. (28)          

Cayuga noun incorporation Ojǫʔdáʔ aknáhsgwaęʔ. o-itsyǫʔt-aʔ ak-nahskw-a-y̨ę-ʔ n-fish-noun.suffix 1sg.pat-domestic.animal-lk-lie-st fish I pet have ‘I have a pet goldfish.’

Noun incorporation is also used to manage the flow of information. A new parti­cipant may be first introduced with a separate word, then once established as part of the scene, carried along simply with some incorporated noun stem. As Mr. Henry was talking about

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fishing, he first introduced ‘pike’ (the fish) with a separate word, then incorporated the noun stem -idzǫʔd-/itsǫʔt- ‘fish’ into the verb. (29)                        

Cayuga noun incorporation Ne: giʔ né:̣ʔ i:ʔ ne:ʔ gę:ʔ gwás nę:gyę ne:ʔ jigǫ́hse:s ne: ki’ né:’ i:’ ne:ʔ kę:ʔ kwas nę:kyę ne:ʔ tsi-kǫ́hs-es it.is in.fact it.is 1  it.is the.one really this it.is rep-face-long ‘As for me myself, it’s mostly pike,’ ne: nę ętga:dí:yǫʔ gagwitehjí:hah, ne: onę ę-t-kati:-yǫ-ʔ ka-kwite-htsi-ha, the when fut-cisloc-z.pl.agt-arrive-pfv n-spring-intensifier-dim ‘when they come in in the spring,’ ne:ʔ gę: gę:s to:gyęh agwanitsǫʔda:dó:wa:t. ne:ʔ kę: kę:s thokyęh akw-an-itsǫ’t-atorat it.is the.one customarily that 1pl.excl.agt-mid-fish-hunt ‘that’s when we fish-hunt.’

The term for ‘pike’ is actually formed from a verb, with the noun stem -kǫhs- ‘face’ incorporated into the verb root -es ‘be long’ = ‘the face-long one’. In some cases, verbs containing incorporated nouns (noun-verb compounds) are more common than their analytic counterparts, sequences of separate words. In other cases, they are less common. The distribution of the three morphological types of words differs from that of their counterparts in many other languages. Mr. Henry’s discussion of fishing contained just 10 morphological nouns, 152 morphological verbs, and 245 particles.

60.4 Sentence structure There is no basic, syntactically defined word order in Iroquoian languages. Essentially, the most newsworthy information appears early (often after various particles), followed by more predictable and incidental information. Mr. Henry noted that as a child he used to watch an old guy spear fishing. What would be the object in English appears here before the predicate (‘use’). (30)          

Cayuga constituent order Kahsógwa:ʔ tsǫ: ka-hsókwar-aʔ tshǫ: n-spear-noun.suffix only spear only ‘He only used a spear.’

hahsta’. ha-hst-haʔ. m.sg.agt-use-hab he uses

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Sometime later, he concluded his discussion with (31). Here what would be the object in English (‘fish’) appears after the predicate (‘kill’). The fish had been the topic of discussion throughout, so at this point it was not newsworthy. (31)          

Cayuga constituent order O: i:sóʔ agri:yó: odzǫ́ʔdaʔ. O: isoʔ ak-riyo-: o-itsǫ́ʔt-aʔ. oh much 1sg.pat kill n-fish-noun.suffix oh much I killed fish ‘Oh, I’ve killed a lot of fish.’

Similar alternations can be seen with words denoting semantic agents, patients, locations, times, and more. In most of the languages, polar questions are marked by a particle that appears after the first element of the clause, like the Cayuga gę/kę in (32). (Short vowels at the ends of Cayuga phrases are automatically followed by h.) (32)        

Cayuga polar question O:nę́ gę́ sadehsrǫníhsʔoh? onę kę sa-ate-hsrǫnihs-ʔ-ǫ now q  2sg.pat-mid-be.ready-inch-st ‘Are you ready now?’

Negation is expressed by a verbal prefix in most of the languages, but, as in many other languages, it is now reinforced in most of the languages with a negative particle. The negative particles vary across the languages, indicating that they are more recent additions. (33)          

Cayuga negation Tę́ʔ d’eagadehsrǫ́nihsʔǫh. thęʔ teʔ-ak-ate-hsrǫnihs-ʔ-ǫ not neg-1sg.pat-mid-be.ready-inch-st not not have I become ready ‘I’m not ready.’

Not surprisingly, content question words appear at the beginning of questions, and the part of the answer that provides the requested information appears at the beginning of the response. Both are the most newsworthy elements of their sentences. (34)        

Cayuga content question and answer A. Gaę diʔ haʔseʔ?   kaę tiʔ haʔ-s-e-ʔ   where so transloc-2sg.agt-go-st   ‘So where are you going?’

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B.        

 Marianne Mithun and Ryan DeCaire

Ganadagǫ́: ka-nat-a-kǫ: n-town-lk-place.in town place ‘I’m going to town.’

haʔgeʔ. haʔ-k-e-ʔ transloc-1sg.agt-go-st there I am going

Clause combining strategies also vary across the languages. In all of the Northern languages, all verbs are finite: all could be used as sentences on their own. Complex sentences, consisting of multiple clauses, can usually be identified by their prosody; they are pronounced under a single, complex intonation contour. But dependent clauses are also often indicated by various particles. Some examples of Cayuga complex sentences are in (35) and (36). (35)                  

Cayuga complex sentence: Reg Henry, speaker Agǫho:wíʔ gyę́:ʔ hné:ʔ   a-kǫ-hrorí-ʔ kyę:ʔ hne:ʔ   factual-1sg>2sg-tell-pfv in fact   ‘I told you in fact’ shę gokwayędeiʔǫ́: kekę́hjih. shę ko-khw-a-yęteri-ʔ=ǫ́: khe-kę́htsi how f.sg.pat-food-ep-know-st=inf 1sg>3sg-be.old how she is a food expert I have her as old lady ‘what a good cook my wife is.’

In complement constructions, the main clause normally precedes the complement clause. (36)                              

Cayuga complex sentence: Reg Henry, speaker A:ya:wę́   gi’ gyę:ʔ do:gę́hs aa-yaw-ę   ki’ kyę:ʔ tokęhs irr-n.pat-happen in fact surely may it happen in fact surely ‘I sure hope’ a:setsę́:iʔ     sǫgáʔa aa-she-tshęri-ʔ   shǫkáʔa irr-2sg>indef-find-pfv someone you might find one someone ‘you find someone’   a:yesayʔadagé:nhaʔ.   aa-yesa-yaʔt-akenha-ʔ   irr-indef>2sg>help-pfv   one might help you   ‘to help you.’

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Cherokee has developed certain verbal markers that form non-finite clauses, clauses that can only be used as part of larger sentences.

60.5 Revitalization As with most Indigenous languages in Canada and the United States, the establishment of Indian residential schools, termed boarding schools in the United States, severely disrupted intergenerational transmission and use throughout communities. Children were taken from their homes at tender ages, and many did not return until they were young adults, if at all. By the mid-twentieth century, most speakers of the parent generation, many of whom had attended such schools, chose not to transmit their languages to the next generation, hoping to spare their children the kind of suffering and challenges they had undergone. Language ideologies began to change significantly. Many parents began to place greater economic value on their children speaking English in the home as their first language, assuming that it would lead to better learning outcomes and increased employability. Eventually, intergenerational transmission mostly ceased, and English became the primary means of communication among peer groups. Generally, the last generation to use the languages as their primary languages were people born between the 1940’s and 1960’s. Current revitalization efforts must not only restore the everyday use of the language; they must also undo trauma from the impacts of past and present processes of colonization. To date, of all the Iroquoian languages, an accurate language vitality assessments1 has only been undertaken for Kanien’kéha. In terms of the Expanded Graded Intergenerational Disruption Scale (EGIDS) (Lewis & Simons 2016), one of the most common metrics used to assess the degree of vitality of a language, all the Iroquoian languages would likely fall between 6B Threatened and 9 Dormant, with varying degrees of vitality within individual communities. For all of the languages that still have first-language speakers, those speakers are generally of the grandparent generation and older. Some of them, as well as some younger adult second-language speakers, use the language on a daily basis within their respective peer groups, but this is a small minority of the population. Some communities use the language primarily for its symbolic function and as an emblem of identity, while others are engaging in more robust revitalization efforts, striving to restore intergenerational transmission and everyday use of the language in the home and other domains. Language revitalization efforts face a number of barriers to success. As first-language speakers are aging, the number of highly proficient speakers available to serve as teachers, language practitioners, and advisors is decreasing. There is thus an ever-increasing need for the development of advanced oral proficiency in new generations of

1 See DeCaire (2023) for a detailed vitality assessment of Kanien’kéha.

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adults who can serve in these roles, as well as bring the language back to the home. In large part, without a pathway for producing proficient second-language speakers, language revitalization strategies will continue to lack a crucial and necessary component. For second-language learners, one of the biggest obstacles is the limited opportunity for hearing and using the language, especially with first-language speakers. Those living in communities where first-language speakers are still available for frequent conversation are at a special advantage for developing the necessary proficiency to create immersion environments in the home, the school, and in other community domains. Some of the communities, however, no longer have living first-language speakers at all and now rely on other communities or nations for assistance. Despite the challenges, many communities are making impressive strides in language revitalization, in large part thanks to heroic individuals and ambitious immersion programs. For Cherokee, the Tsalagi Tsunadeloquasdi immersion program in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, begun in 2001, now has nearly 100 students in kindergarten through sixth grade. All instruction is in Cherokee, and the Sequoyah syllabary is used in all written materials (Cherokee Nation 2018). The New Kutuwah Academy/Atse Kituwah Academy in Cherokee, North Carolina opened in 2004 with preschool immersion and was subsequently extended to sixth grade. Now in preschool through second grade nearly all instruction is in Cherokee; for third through sixth grades, instruction is in Cherokee about 50 % of the time. In 2018 there were 98 enrolled students ages 2–13 (Cherokee North Carolina 2018). Additionally, the Cherokee Nation has developed a Master-Apprentice program, a full-time, two-year adult immersion program that places adults with “master-level” Cherokee speakers, designed to give graduates conversational speaking proficiency, in order to fill needed gaps in teaching the language and maintaining immersion environments in the home (Cherokee Nation 2020). In the north, adult immersion programs, such as the Mohawk Onkwawén:na Kentyóhkwa at Six Nations on the Grand River, Ratiwennahní:rats in Kahnawà:ke, Quebec, Á;se Tsi Tewá:ton in Ahkwesáhsne, and Ratiwennenhá:wi in KanehsatàLke, as well as the Seneca Deadiwënöhsnye’s Gëjóhgwa’ in Cattaraugus, New York, are showing phenomenal success, graduating proficient second-language learners with the capacity to create new first and second-language speakers, as well as restore and produce new domains of use, such as in the home, the school, and the wider community. The Onkwawén:na Kentyóhkwa program is described in Green & Maracle (2018). Six Nations Polytechnic at Six Nations on the Grand River, Ontario, is offering a three-year bachelor’s degree with a focus on cultural learning in both Mohawk and Cayuga, the first language degree program accredited by an Indigenous-run institution in Canada. Impressive models for early childhood and elementary level education are emerging in a number of Mohawk communities in Quebec and Ontario. Kahnawà:ke has an impressive suite of programs. The Iakwahwatsiratátie’ Language Nest provides preschool immersion for children under three as well as their parents. Karonhianónhnha’ Tsi Ionterihwaienstáhkhwa’ offers public immersion schooling from kindergarten through grade six. Karihwanó:ron’ provides private immersion schooling from nursery

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through grade six. At Ahkwesáhsne, the Ahkwesáhsne Freedom School offers a language nest for children three years old and under, and a culture-based elementary immersion program, with English incorporated in grades seven and eight. The Skahwatsí:ra Elementary School provides immersion public schooling from pre-kindergarten to grade four. Tyendinaga has the Totáhne Language Nest for children three years and under, and Kawenna’ón:we Elementary provides immersion schooling from kindergarten to grade four. In Ohsweken, the Everlasting Tree School offers immersion from kindergarten through grade six, providing Waldorf education inspired culture-based education. Kawenní:io/Gawęní:yo provides private schooling in both Mohawk and Cayuga, with 100 % immersion from junior kindergarten to grade six, 50 % immersion in grades seven and eight, and 25 % from grades nine through twelve. Jeremy Green describes his teaching philosophy and methods in Green (2020). The revitalization projects are accomplishing much more than teaching words and phrases in the languages; they are having a major impact on community appreciation of heritage and a positive sense of identity, ultimately working to recreate communities defined by use of the languages. Where a generation or two ago, the languages were sometimes nearly invisible within the communities, they are now a clear presence and source of pride, visible in signs and audible in daily interaction among younger and younger peer groups. And there are now proficient second-language speakers who are raising their children as first-language speakers. With continued successes such as these, there will be an ever-increasing possibility of the languages re-establishing themselves as central to the functioning of Iroquoian language speaking communities.

Abbreviations for grammatical terms agt ben caus cont distr du dv excl fut hab inch indef irr lk

grammatical agent benefactive applicative causative continuative distributive dual duplicative exclusive future habitual aspect inchoative indefinite irrealis (= optative) linker (= stem joiner)

m mid n neg prv pl rep sg st transloc z 1 2

masculine middle neuter negative perfective (= punctual) plural repetitive singular stative aspect translocative zoic first person second person.

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References Abbott, Clifford. 2000. Oneida. (Languages of the World/Materials 301). Munchen: Lincom Europa. Abbott, Clifford. 2006. Oneida teaching grammar. https://www.uwgb.edu/oneida/oneida-teachinggrammar/ (last accessed 21 April 2020) Abbott, Clifford, Amos Chrisjohn & Maria Hinton. 1996. Oneida dictionary. https://www.uwgb.edu/ dictionary/ (last accessed 21 April 2020) Abbott, Clifford. Oneida texts. https://www.uwgb.edu/oneida/sample-texts/ Barbeau, C. Marius. 1960. Huron-Wyandot traditional narratives. Translations and Native texts. National Museum of Canada Bulletin 165. Ottawa. Chafe, Wallace. 2015. A grammar of the Seneca language. University of California Publications in Linguistics 149. http://escholarship.org/uc/ucpress. Chafe, Wallace. ms. Dictionary of the Seneca language. Cherokee Nation. 2018. Cherokee Immersion School. https://www.cherokee.org/all-services/educationservices/sequoyah-schools/cherokee-immersion-school/ (last accessed 21 April 2020). Cherokee Nation. 2020. Cherokee language Master Apprentice program. https://language.cherokee.org/ language-programs/cherokee-language-master-apprentice-program/ (last accessed 21 April 2020). Cherokee North Carolina. 2018. Keeping the Cherokee language alive: Teaching children early on. https:// visitcherokeenc.com/blog/entry/keeping-the-cherokee-language-alive-teaching-children-early-on/ (last accessed 21 April 2020). Cook, William. 1979. A grammar of North Carolina Cherokee. New Haven, CT: Yale University dissertation. DeCaire, Ryan. 2023. The role of adult immersion in Kanien’kéha revitalization. [Doctoraldissertation, University of Hawaii at Hilo]. ProQuest Dissertations Publishing. Deering, Nora & Helga Harries Delisle. 1976. Mohawk: A teaching grammar. Kahnawà:ke Quebec: Kanien’kehá:ka Raotitiohkwa Cultural Center. Dyck, Carrie, Frances Froman, Alfred Keye, and Lottie Keye. 2023. A Grammar and Dictionary of Gayogo̱ho:noʔ (Cayuga). Berlin: Language Science Press. Froman, Frances, Alfred Keye, Lottie Keye & Carrie Dyck. 2002. English-Cayuga/Cayuga-English dictionary. Toronto: University of Toronto. Green, Jeremy. 2020. The oral literacy approach. Hilo, HI: University of Hawai’i at Hilo dissertation. Green, Jeremy & Brian Maracle. 2018. The root word method for building proficient second language speakers of polysynthetic languages: Onkwawén:na Kentyókhwa Adult Mohawk Language Immersion Program. In: Leanne Hinton, Leena Huss & Gerald Roche (eds.), The Routledge Handbook of Language Revitalization, 146−155. Routledge: New York. Julian, Charles. 2010. A history of the Iroquoian languages. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba dissertation. King, Duane. 1975. A grammar and dictionary of the Cherokee language. Athens, GA: University of Georgia dissertation. Kopris, Craig. 2001. A grammar and dictionary of Wyandot. Buffalo: State University of New York at Buffalo dissertation. Lewis, Paul & Gary Simons. 2016. Sustaining language use: Perspectives on community-based language development. Dallas, Texas: SIL International. Lukaniec, Megan. 2018. The elaboration of verbal structure: Wendat (Huron) verb morphology. Santa Barbara, CA: University of California, Santa Barbara dissertation. Michelson, Gunther. 1973. A thousand words of Mohawk. (Mercury Series Paper 5). Ottawa: National Museum of Man. Michelson, Karin & Mercy Doxtator. 2002. Oneida-English/English-Oneida dictionary. Toronto: University of Toronto. Michelson, Karin, Norma Kennedy & Mercy Doxtator. 2016. Glimpses of Oneida life. Toronto: University of Toronto.

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Mithun, Marianne. 1979. Iroquoian. In Lyle Campbell & Marianne Mithun (eds.), The languages of Native North America: A historical and comparative assessment, 133−212. Austin: University of Texas. Mithun, Marianne. 1981. Stalking the Susquehannock. International Journal of America Linguistics 47. 1−26. Mithun, Marianne. 1982. The mystery of the vanished Laurentians. In Anders Ahlqvist (ed.), Papers from the Fifth International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Galway, 230−242. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Mithun, Marianne. 1999. The languages of Native North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University. Mithun, Marianne. 2023. The value of family relations for revitalization. Alan Yu & Darya Kavitskaya (eds.), The Life Cycle of Language: Past, Present, and Future. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mithun, Marianne. Forthcoming. Mohawk grammatical structure: Kanien’kéha’ tsi tekawennahsonterónnion’. Berlin: Language Science Press. Mithun, Marianne & Reginald Henry. 1982. A Cayuga grammar. Brantford, Ontario: Woodland Indian Cultural and Educational Centre. Montgomery-Anderson, Brad. 2015. Cherokee reference grammar. Norman: Oklahoma University. Pulte, William & Durbin Feeling. 1975. Outline of Cherokee grammar. In Durbin Feeling & Wiilliam Pulte, Cherokee-English dictionary, 235−355. Tahlequah, OK: Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma. Rudes, Blair. 1981. A sketch of the Nottoway language from a historical-comparative perspective. International Journal of American Linguistics 47. 27−49. Rudes, Blair. 1999. Tuscarora-English/English-Tuscarora dictionary. Toronto: University of Toronto. Rudes, Blair & Dorothy Crouse. 1987. The Tuscarora legacy of J. N. B. Hewitt. Canadian Ethnology Service Paper No. 108. Ottawa: Canadian Museum of Civilization. Scancarelli, Janine. 2005. Cherokee. In Heather Hardy & Janine Scancarelli (eds.), Native languages of the southeastern United States, 351−384. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Uchihara, Hiroto. 2016. Tone and accent in Oklahoma Cherokee. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Woodbury, Hanni. 2003. Onondaga-English/English-Onondaga dictionary. Toronto: University of Toronto. Woodbury, Hanni. 2018. A reference grammar of the Onondaga language. Toronto: University of Toronto. Woodbury, Hanni, Reginald Henry & Harry Webster. 1992. Concerning the League. (Algonquian and Iroquoian Linguistics Memoire 9). Winnipeg, Manitoba: University of Manitoba.

Raoul Zamponi

61 Unclassified languages Abstract: This chapter is a guide to what is known about fifteen languages once spoken in North America north of Mexico that now exist only as fragmentary records which resist (a convincing) classification: Nansemond and Pamunkey of the Northeast; Akokisa, Bayogoula, Bidai, Calusa, Congaree, Cusabo, Guale, Sewee, and Shoccoree-Eno of the Southeast; Amotomanco, Aranama, Solano, and Tanpachoa of the Southern Plains.

Introduction An unclassified language is a language that has not been shown to be related to any other known language due to insufficient evidence to prove genealogical affiliation (Ruhlen 1991: 377; Campbell and Okura 2018: 82). It may be both a language no longer spoken whose surviving attestations are particularly scanty (e.  g. Camunic; central Alps) or undeciphered (e.  g. Minoan; Crete), or an actively spoken language that, for some reason (e.  g. because used by a group that has remained (mostly) uncontacted), is poorly or completely unknown to linguists (e.  g. the language of the “Flecheiros”, one of the isolated peoples in the Javari region of the Amazon). As Campbell (2017: xii) notes, in the case of some languages with limited attestation, opinion has differed as to whether the available documentation is sufficient to determine that the language is an isolate or whether the available corpus is simply too scant to make such a determination, leaving the language unclassified. As Campbell (2017) also observes, this raises an interesting but mostly unaddressed research question for language isolates and poorly documented languages: how much documentation, and of what sort, is necessary in order to determine whether a language is best considered unclassified or can be compared with others, and if no discernible relatives can be found, then is the language to be seen as a language isolate? Hammarström et al. (2022 [“About Languoids”]) judge that an approximate minimal requirement for the classification of any historical-natural language is 50 items or so of basic vocabulary, i.  e. not personal names or special domain vocabulary. It is well known that the term “basic vocabulary” can mean different things in different domains of linguistics. In comparative linguistics, basic vocabulary has been associated with stability, universality, simplicity, and resistance to borrowing (Tadmor et al. 2010: 227) and is often identified with one of the two standard lists of 100 or 200 lexical items formulated by Morris Swadesh, utilized for numerous lexicostatistical studies, and inspiring scholars around the world to use them for thousands of languages. As regards the specific context of North America north of Mexico, as far I am aware, fifteen languages, from three distinct sectors (see Map 1), do not meet Hammarström et al.’s minimal requirement of 50 items or so of basic vocabulary from either the Swadesh https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-061

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100-list or 200-list, and, based on the available documentation, cannot be (convincingly) shown to be related to any other language. i NORTHEAST: Nansemond, Pamunkey ii SOUTHEAST: Akokisa, Bayogoula, Bidai, Calusa, Congaree, Cusabo, Guale, Sewee, Shoccoree-Eno iii SOUTHERN PLAINS: Amotomanco, Aranama, Solano, Tanpachoa None of these languages are spoken today, and their documentation is both quantitatively and qualitatively poor—except apparently Nansemond—with transcriptions that merely render native words in quasi-European spellings.1 This chapter supplies some general information and linguistic data about each of the unclassified languages listed above. 1 Akokisa 2 Amotomanco 3 Aranama 4 Bayogoula 5 Bidai 6 Calusa 7 Congaree 8 Cusabo 9 Guale 10 Nansemond 11 Pamunkey 12 Sewee 13 Shoccoree-Eno 14 Solano 15 Tanpachoa Map 1: Geographical location of the North American unclassified languages

61.1 Unclassified languages of the Northeast Dozens of native groups are known to have lived during the colonial period in the North American Northeast. The specific names of the groups, most of which disappeared in post-contact times, vary from one source to another, but most sources agree 1 For all these languages, we know at least one word with a conventional/lexical meaning. Languages of which only proper names remain will be not taken into account in this chapter.



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that several of these groups spoke languages that can be assigned to just three linguistic families: Algic (Algonquian branch), Iroquoian (Northern Iroquoian branch), and Siouan-Catawba. In the case of some favored peoples for which linguistic records are adequate to answer questions about affiliation, or there is a trustworthy report that their language was similar to a known language, there is no room for debate. All the other peoples are, however, of unknown linguistic affiliation. Some of the latter peoples no doubt did speak an Algonquian, Iroquoian, or Siouan-Catawba language; but these three groups were relatively recent arrivals in the southern portion of the Northeast, and there were certainly other groups here before them (Pentland 1996: 234). It would therefore not be at all surprising if at least a few of the languages still spoken in the colonial period in this area, like those of the Nansemond and the Pamunkey, whose scanty materials cannot be positively linked to any particular North American family, were survivals from an earlier period.

61.1.1 Nansemond The Nansemond were one of the numerous tribes of the Powhatan confederacy formerly occupying a territory on the southern side of the lower James River within the present-day Nansemond and Norfolk counties in the Coastal Plain of Virginia. In 1608, Captain John Smith estimated them at 200 warriors, or perhaps a total population of 700 or 800. After the intrusion of the whites, they quickly declined. In 1772, they are mentioned in the Albany treaty with the Iroquois, numbering only about 150 in all. In the early 1900s, a scattered band of about 200 “mixed-bloods”, mostly truck farmers, still kept up the name near Bowershill, a few miles southwest from Norfolk (Mooney 1907: 150, 1910a: 24). At that time, the Nansemond had lost their native language and customs and differed but little from their white neighbors (Mooney 1907: 146). In 1901, by the most careful search, the ethnographer James Mooney could find but one old Nansemond man by the name of William W. Weaver who remembered something of the language of his ancestors: half a dozen words in all. Except for the numeral nĭkătwĭn ‘one’, which is clearly similar to the reconstructed Proto-Algonquian equivalent *nekwetwi, none of these six words correspond to any known Algonquian, Iroquoian, or Siouan language of the Northeast, or to reconstructions of Proto-Algonquian, Proto-Iroquoian (or Proto-Northern Iroquoian), or Proto-Siouan, as can be observed in Table 1.2

2 The Proto-Algonquian reconstructions are from Hewson (1993), those of Proto-Iroquoian and Proto-Northern Iroquoian from Julian (2010), those of Proto-Siouan from Rankin et al. (2005).

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Tab. 1: Lexical comparison of the attested Nansemond words Meaning

Nansemond

Proto-Algonquian

Proto-Iroquoian/ Proto-Northern Iroquoian

Proto-Siouan

‘one’ ‘two’ ‘three’ ‘four’ ‘five’ ‘dog’

nĭkătwĭn näkătwĭn nikwásăti toisíaw’ mishäʹnaw marímo

*nekwetwi *nyi·šwi *neʔθwi *nye·wi *nya·θanwi, pale·neθkwi *aθemwa

*õskat (PNI) *tekniːh (PNI) *ahsẽh (PNI) *kajeɹi (PNI) *hwihsk (PI) *kiːɹ (PI)

*rų·sa *rų́·pa *rá·wrį *tó·pa *kiSų́· *wašų́ke/*wišų́·ke

Curiously, the numeral näkătwĭn ‘two’ differs from nĭkătwĭn ‘one’ only in the first vowel, but in no Algonquian language do the first two numerals show this kind of formal relationship. The numeral ‘five’, mishäʹnaw, is reminiscent of Proto-Eastern Algonquian *mətara/*mətarən ‘ten’. In Ojibwa, a cognate form midana is attested by Schoolcraft (1851: 144) and, with wider dialect distribution, as a morpheme used to form ten multiples, as in naanimidana ‘fifty’ (Rhodes and Costa 2003: 202). The noun marímo ‘dog’ would lend itself to be connected to its reconstructed Proto-Algonquian equivalent *aθemwa (cf., for example, Quiripi arúm, Unquachog arrum, Nipmuck alùm, and Narraganset ayím), if it did not begin with an [m] whose presence is historically inexplicable. The six words that were recorded may have been corrupted in memory by the time they were written down,3 so, based on them, no indication about the genealogical status of the language of Nansemond, as either an Algonquian language or an isolate in contact with Algonquian, can be forwarded in my opinion.

61.1.2 Pamunkey The Pamunkey were another group of the Powhatan confederacy of the Virginia Coastal Plain, this one located around the junction of the Pamunkey and Mattapony rivers, in King William county. In 1608, the Pamunkey were estimated by Captain John Smith to number nearly 300 warriors, or perhaps a total of 1,000 people. In 1772, when the Pamunkey last appear in a public treaty, they were said to number about 200. In 1781, Thomas Jefferson reported them to number only 60, of tolerably “pure blood”, but this estimate is probably too low. They were then occupying a state reservation in a bend of Pamunkey River opposite White House. Quite a number, at the time, retained the native language of the group (Mooney 1910b: 198).

3 Mooney (1907: 146) noted that his informant was “so feeble, mentally and physically, that he could not be questioned with any satisfaction”.



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In 1844, when the Pamunkey were by then considerably acculturated and no longer used their language, a clergyman by the name of E. A. Dalrymple collected, from a consultant whose identity remains a mystery, a list of a few numerals and additional terms “found still surviving (…), at the Indian Pamunkey town, in King William county, Va”.4 The list was submitted to the Historical Magazine by a “C. C.” of Petersburg, Virginia, in 1858 (C. C. 1858) and republished by John G. Pollard in a brief ethnographic account of the Pamunkey (Pollard 1894: 12). Also, the handful of words gathered by Dalrymple bear no resemblance to any Algonquian language or other languages in the Northeast (including Nansemond), except, as in the case of Nansemond, the numeral ‘one’, nikkut, which appears unmistakably Algonquian (cf. Powhatan nekut). This is evident in Table 2, where all recorded Pamunkey words are compared with their equivalents in Proto-Algonquian, Proto-Iroquoian or Proto-Northern Iroquoian, and Proto-Siouan.5 Tab. 2: Lexical comparison of the attested Pamunkey words Meaning

Pamunkey

Proto-Algonquian

Proto-Iroquoian/ Proto-Northern Iroquoian

Proto-Siouan

‘son’ ‘daughter’ ‘cat’ ‘thankfulness’ ‘O my Lord’ ‘friendship’ ‘thank you’ ‘go out dog’ ‘one’ ‘two’ ‘three’ ‘four’ ‘five’ ‘six’ ‘seven’ ‘eight’

tonshee nucksee petucka kayyo o-ma-yah kenaanee baskonee eeskut nikkut orijak kiketock mitture nahnkitty vomtally talliko tingdum

– – – – – – – – *õskat (PNI) *tekniːh (PNI) *ahsẽh (PNI) *kajeɹi (PNI) *hwihsk (PI) *tsjotaɹeʔ (?) (PI) *tsjotaɹeʔ (?) (PI) *tekɹõʔ (PI)

*iyį ́ke *iyų́·ke – – – – *hahó – *rų·sa *rų́·pa *rá·wrį *tó·pa *kiSų́· *aká·we *ša·kú·pa –

‘ten’

yantay

*wekwiʔsema·wa *weta·nema·wa *ka·šake·nsa – – – – – *nekwetwi *nyi·šwi *neʔθwi *nye·wi *nya·θanwi, *pale·neθkwi *nekweta·šyeka *nyi·šwa·šyeka *neʔneʔšwa·šik, *neʔšwa·šyeka *meta·hθwi, *meta·tahθwi

*wahshẽ (PI)

*hą

4 The Indian Pamunkey town “comprises the whole of a curiously shaped neck of land, extending into Pamunkey river and adjoining King William county, Virginia, on the south. The “town,” as it is somewhat improperly called, forms a very small part of their original territory” (Pollard 1894: 10). 5 The same sources indicated in footnote 2 were used for the three protolanguages.

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In addition, Dalrymple’s list exhibits both an l-sound and an r-sound as apparently distinct consonants, whereas Eastern Algonquian languages have either /l/ or /r/, but not both (Howell, Levy, and Luckenbach 1979: 79). Goddard (1978: 74) suggests that “[t]he Pamunkey vocabulary may well represent the language of one of the poorly known inland Virginia groups that have generally been lumped together as Siouan, though often on slender or no evidence” (see Mooney 1894). Certainly, it does not seem to reflect an Algonquian, Iroquoian, or Siouan variety.

61.2 Unclassified languages of the Southeast With at least eleven phylogenetic lineages, the Southeast is highlighted as the area of North America that, until the nineteenth century, displayed the highest degrees of linguistic diversity after the far west (Martin 2004: 68). Spanning the central region from present-day Mississippi to northeast Florida were the seven or more languages of the Muskogean family (see Martin, this volume). In the north and in the west were two southern members of the Iroquoian and Caddoan families (Cherokee and Caddo respectively). The Timucuan languages Tawasa and Timucua reached into central Florida. At least four Siouan-Catawba languages were scattered in Mississippi (Biloxi), Tennessee (Ofo), and the Carolinas (Catawba, Woccon, and perhaps other Catawaban languages; see Goddard 2005: 19–21). These five families were accompanied by six languages that we know sufficiently well to be considered isolates—Adai, Atakapa (classified into two varieties, Western and Eastern, which some authors consider separate languages), Tunica, Natchez, Chitimacha, and Yuchi (Euchee)6—various no longer spoken languages that were not sufficiently documented to classify—Akokisa (61.2.1), Bayogoula (61.2.2), Bidai (61.2.3), Calusa (61.2.4), Congaree (61.2.5), Cusabo (61.2.6), Guale (61.2.7), Sewee (61.2.8), and Shoccoree-Eno (61.2.9)7—and an indeterminable number of other languages that ceased to be spoken before even a minimal record was taken.8

6 On the possibility that Tunica and Natchez had sister languages, see Goddard (2005: 12–13). 7 To the poor or extremely minimal documentation of these nine languages, we should add the word ouga, with which the man who was the chief over the villages of the Mobila and the two leading chiefs of the Tohomé (Tomeh) were referred to (Knight & Adams 1981: 182)—presumably ‘high chief’ in the language of one of these two groups of the Mobile Bay-delta area (Goddard 2005: 40–41)—and, perhaps, the name of a settlement of the Santee (lower Santee River, South Carolina), Hickerau (Lawson 1709: 23), called Black House by the English traders, which may or may not be a translation (Goddard 2005: 25). 8 Goddard (2005: 15–41) surveys about 50 possible distinct languages once spoken in the Southeast for which no linguistic documentation is available. Only four of the eleven known linguistic lineages of the Southeast still have living representatives (Muskogean, Iroquoian, Caddoan, and Yuchi), including nine languages (Chickasaw, Caddo, and Yuchi in Oklahoma; Choctaw in Oklahoma, Louisiana, and Mississippi; Cherokee in Oklahoma and North Carolina; Creek in Oklahoma and Florida; Alabama in Texas; Koasati (Coushatta) in Texas and Louisiana; Mikasuki (Miccosukee) in Florida).



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61.2.1 Akokisa In the mid-eighteen century, the Akokisa (Accokesaws, Arkokisa, Orcoquiza) lived in extreme southeastern Texas along the lower Trinity and San Jacinto and the eastern shores of Galveston Bay (Newcomb 2004: 659). Most of what is known about them comes from mission records. In 1748–49, some Akokisa entered San Ildefonso Mission on the San Gabriel River near the present-day town of Rockdale, but in 1751, after an epidemic, they deserted to join the Nabedache (Nabadacho, Nabaydacho) in an expedition against the Apache. On their return, 66 families camped near San Xavier Mission, which served them for some time. In 1805, Sibley (1832: 722) reported that the chief town of the Akokisa was on the west side of Colorado River, which means that a removal had taken place. It is not known whether they finally united with other peoples, but there is no trace of them beyond this small record (Swanton 1946: 8). All that we know of the language of the Akokisa is the word for ‘Spaniards’, Yegsa, found by the historian Herbert E. Bolton in Spanish records together with a woman’s name, Quiselpoo (Swanton 1911: 35–36). Although a vocabulary of Western Atakapa was ascribed to the Akokisa by Gatschet and Swanton (1932: 2), there is no direct evidence that it represents their language (Goddard 2005: 14, 38).

61.2.2 Bayogoula In 1700, the Bayogoula (Bayagoula, Bayagola, Bayugla, etc.) inhabited the area that would become the Port of South Louisiana at LaPlace. They lived in a village with the Mugulasha on the west bank of the Mississippi. Lemoyne d’Iberville’s estimate of Louisiana tribes, made in 1702, allows the Bayogoula 100 families (Margry 1880: 167). Soon after that, in 1706, the Taensa nearly exterminated them (Swanton 1946: 95). Smallpox took its toll on the survivors. The French Jesuit Pierre F. X. de Charlevoix, who passed the site of their old village in 1721, believed that the Bayogoula were extinct. By the late 1700s, the Bayogoula had been absorbed by the Houma, and their subsequent history is that of the Houma (Swanton 1911: 278–279). We know that the Bayogoula expressed astonishment at the word Affero (La Rochefoucault de Surgères in Margry 1880: 260), which does not appear to be Muskogean or Natchez (Goddard 2005: 39)

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61.2.3 Bidai The central settlements of the Bidai (Beadeye, Bedias, Bidey, Viday, etc.) were along Bedias Creek, a western branch of the Trinity River, but their territory ranged from the Brazos River to the Neches River in southeastern Texas (Newcomb 2004: 659). The first written record of the group was in 1691, by the Franciscan missionary Francisco Casañas de Jesús María, who lists the “Bidey” among the tribes of the province of Texas (see Swanton 1942: 9, 250). Until 1746, when the Spanish government began its extensive exploration in southeastern Texas, the Bidai were little known, except to French traders who illegally visited them for the purpose of obtaining the skins of bison and deer. After this time, Bidai-Spanish contacts were common, and the governor of Texas and others began to trade extensively with the Bidai (Sjoberg 1951: 394). The Bidai suffered an epidemic during 1776–77, reducing their population, which had been estimated as 100, by nearly half. About the middle of the nineteenth century, there was still one small Bidai community in a village 12 miles from Montgomery in eastern Texas. The last shred of information on this group comes from John R. Swanton. In 1912, Swanton found one individual of probable Bidai descent living in eastern Texas. This person, however, had been brought up in a white family and had learned nothing of the Bidai language and culture (Swanton 1946: 96). A few words in English orthography supposedly belonging to Bidai were collected by Albert S. Gatschet from a letter sent to him on November 15, 1887, by an old Texan settler—Rufus Grimes, of Navasota, Grimes county—and published in Gatschet (1891: 39, fn.  2). Sjoberg (1951: 393) reproduces them, adding the fact that the Bidai called themselves “Quasmigdo” (as indicated by Kerr 1816: 122).9 This evidence amounts to nine words on the whole: the autonym, the terms for ‘boy’ and ‘corn’, and the first six numerals. Grimes seemed also to recollect that the numerals from ‘seven’ to ‘ten’ begun with [n] but could not remember the forms themselves. The nine purported Bidai words were first analyzed and compared to their equivalents in various languages of the Southeast by Anthony P. Grant (1995a). Grant highlights the fact that while words similar to púskus ‘boy’ and tándshai ‘corn’ occur in Choctaw (poškoš ~ poskos ‘child’, tãci’ ‘corn’) and in Mobilian Jargon (posko(š) ~ poškoš ‘baby, child’, tãče ‘corn’), a Muskogean-based pidgin which was known and used well inside Texas in the mid-nineteenth century (the two words probably represent Mobilian Jargon rather than single loans; Drechsel 1997: 236), no likeness was found between the numerals of Bidai and those in geographically close languages; see Table 3, where the six numerals are compared with their equivalents in five of these languages and in Mobilian Jargon.10 9 Gatschet (1891: 39) indicates that the name Bidai is derived from the Caddo word for ‘shrub, bush’. 10 The sources used are Chafe (2018) (Caddo), Drechsel (1996) (Mobilian Jargon), Grant (1994) (Karankawa), Grant (1995b) (Adai), Hoijer (2018) (Tonkawa), and Gatschet & Swanton (1932) (Western Atakapa).



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Tab. 3: Lexical comparison of the recorded Bidai numerals Meaning Bidai ‘one’ ‘two’ ‘three’ ‘four’ ‘five’ ‘six’

namah nahonde naheestah nashirimah nahot nahonde nashees nahonde

W. Atakapa

Karankawa

Tonkawa Caddo

Adai

Mobilian Jargon

tanuʹk, taʹnuk tsīk lāt (h)imatoʹl nīt, nit latsīʹk

náatsa háikia kaxáji hájo hakn náatsa béhema hájo háikia

we·ʔis-pax ketay metis sikit kaskwa sikwa·law

nancas nass colle tacache seppacan pacanancus

(a)čaf(f)a tok(o)lo točena ošta taɫape han(n)ale

’wísts’i’ bít daháw’ híwí’ di:sik’an dá:nkih

Grant also shows that the pattern of the Bidai numerals—1, 2, 3, 4, ?+2, 3×2 (?)—is unusual in the Southeast, although a word for ‘six’, which is literally 3×2, appears “as an areal trait shared with certain other languages in that part of Texas: Atakapan on the north, Coahuilteco to the south, and Karankawa to the northeast” (Grant 1995a: 46). If the words recalled by Rufus Grimes are reflections of Bidai speech, as the numerals may well be, they are surely a testimony of a further language in the Southeast without close genealogical relatives.

61.2.4 Calusa When first contacted by Spaniards in the early sixteenth century, the Calusa (Calloosa, Caloosa, Caloose, Calos, Carlos, etc.) inhabited the coastal area of southwest Florida southward of Tampa Bay to Marco Island. They dominated much of southern Florida, collecting tributes from hundreds of kilometers from their coastal homeland (e.  g., from Lake Okeechobee, present-day Miami, and the Florida Keys). Victims of warfare, slavery, and introduced diseases, the Calusa ceased to exist as a distinct society around 1750 (Marquardt 2004: 204). Little remains of the language of the Calusa people. The Jesuit Father Juan Rogel compiled a Calusa vocabulary—now lost—in Havana before he begun missionary work in Florida in 1567, but on his arrival, he evidently ceased to study the language because he was able to use long-term Spanish captives as interpreters (Sturtevant 2005: 10). After Rogel, only a few dozen words were apparently recorded by Spaniards, and most are the names of towns (see Swanton 1922: 331–333). Spanish translations today exist for only five words from the Charlotte Harbor-Pine Island area occurring in a 1575 memoir by Hernando de Escalante Fontaneda (1944) who lived as a captive with the Calusa from the age of 13 to the age of 30.11

11 Granberry (1996, 2011) adds to these five words the word mahoma, found in a letter of Fr. Feliciano López to Fr. Pedro Taybo (reproduced in translation in Hann 1991: 158–161). Specifically, mahoma occurs

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carlos—‘ferocious people’ (“quiere desir en su lenguaje pueblo feros”) (Escalante Fontaneda 1944: 67). This form is a Spanish corruption of the native Caalus (attested in a 1567 letter) or whatever it might have been in the local language (see Granberry 2011: 23). Certepe—‘chief king and great lord’ (“Rey mayor y gran señor”) (Escalante Fontaneda 1944: 68). ño—‘beloved town’ (“quiere dezir pueblo querido”) (Escalante Fontaneda 1944: 70) seletega—‘Run, see if people are coming!’ (“Corre mira si biene jente”) (Escalante Fontaneda 1944: 73). In connection with this one-word sentence, Fontaneda points out that the Florida natives abbreviate their words more than is done in Spanish. tejiEue—‘lookout, vantage point’ (“miradero quiere dezir”) (Escalante Fontaneda 1944: 73). Escalante Fontaneda (l944: 31, 32, 70, 71) makes it clear that the language of the Calusa was not Timucua, Apalachee, Ais, nor Mayaca.12 The implication, according to Granberry (2011: 22), is that the inhabitants of Guacata (the inland Lake Okeechobee region), Carlos (Charlotte Harbor region), Tocobaga (the area around Tampa Bay), Cañogacola (Gulf coastal region to the north of Tampa Bay), and the Keys (called “Martires”)—i.  e. the whole southern portion of the Florida peninsula—spoke dialects of a single language, which he proposed calling Calusa (being the Calusa the politically dominant ethnic entity in sixteenth-century in the area), though Escalante Fontaneda did not visit Tocobaga until after his release from the Calusa. That being the case, the corpus of the Calusa language can be increased further by seven or eight words from southern Florida (not including the ethnic name tocobaga) for which a translation is provided. These words also occur in Escalante Fontaneda’s memoir, except for one found in a 1743 Informe from Fr. Joseph Xavier de Alaña to his superiors (reproduced in the original Spanish in Sturtevant 1978: 154–161). cañogacola—‘wicked people without respect’ (“gente bellaca sin Respeto”) (Escalante Fontaneda 1944: 71); from regions above Tampa on the Gulf Coast. cuchiaga—‘place where there has been torture’ (“quiere dezir lugar Amartirisado”) (Escalante Fontaneda 1944: 66); from the Keys. guarugunbe—‘town of weeping’ (“quiere desir en rromanse pueblo de llanto”) (Escalante Fontaneda 1944: 66); also from the Keys. guasaca Esgui—‘river of reeds’ (“quiere desir Rio de cañas”) (Escalante Fontaneda 1944: 69); from regions above Tampa on the Gulf Coast. mayaimi—‘(very) large’ (“llamase laguna de mayaimi porqués muy grande”) (Escalante Fontaneda 1944: 67); from the Lake Okeechobee region. in the phrase casa de mahoma, readily translated ‘house of Mohammed’ by Hann (1991: 44, 159). Although Granberry (2011: 24) is aware that the expression casa de Mahoma was normally and commonly used by the colonial Spaniards to refer to all non-Christian houses of worship, he prefers to interpret mahoma as “[t]he word used by the Calusa for their temple” (ibid., 23). 12 The Ais and the Mayaca were two groups of central Florida.



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sipi—name of the main idol contained in a temple (though possibly this is the name of a deity) (Sturtevant 1978:148); from the Miami region. tocobaga chile—‘principal chief of the Tocobaga’ (“el Rei casique mayor (…) llamase tocobaga chile”) (Escalante Fontaneda 1944: 69); from the area around Tampa Bay. None of these (properly Calusa and non) southern Florida native forms have a demonstrable etymology in either Timucua (Timucuan family) or Apalachee (Muskogean family) of northern and central Florida (Granberry 1996: 505, 2011: 20). The putative Choctaw (Muskogean) interpretations proposed in the nineteenth century (see Swanton 1922: 29–30) fail to convince, as well as Granberry’s (1996, 2011) attempt to show a correspondence between the sixteenth century southern Florida forms with twentieth century Tunica forms. With such a set of forms—none of which seem to be items of basic vocabulary—with translations that often seem over-elaborate, any statement regarding the possible relationship of Calusa (and possible co-dialects of southern Florida) to other languages or language families can only be speculative.

61.2.5 Congaree In 1701, the Congaree were visited by the English explorer John Lawson, who found them on the northeastern bank of the Santee River below the junction of the Wateree, in present-day South Carolina. Their village consisted of not more than twelve houses located on a small creek flowing into Santee River with plantations up and down the country. On a map of 1715, the village of the Congaree is, however, placed on the south bank of the Congaree River about opposite the site of Columbia. In this year, the Congaree, like their neighbors, took part in the Yamasee War, as a result of which they were so reduced that they were compelled to move up the country and join the Catawba, with whom they were living in 1743, still preserving their distinct “dialect” (Mooney 1894: 80). Lawson, who was traveling with a trader who spoke the Congaree language, reported that it was different from the language of their neighbors Wateree and Waxhaw (Lawson 1709: 27–28, 40–41), and recorded one word of it: Cassetta ‘king’ (i.  e., ‘chief’) (ibid., 28).

61.2.6 Cusabo Cusabo (Cusabes, Cusabees, Cusaboe, Coosaboys, Corsaboy, etc.) is a collective name for numerous independent tribes that lived within the coastal plain of South Carolina from the Santee River to the Savannah River from 1562 to 1751 (Waddell 1980: 114, 2004: 254). Based on contemporary statements, there is reason to assume that these groups spoke local forms of a single language different from the language of the Sewee (61.2.8) on Bull’s Bay, and from the language of the Guale (61.2.7) west of the Savannah (Waddell 1980: 23–33; Goddard 2005: 22–23). A census of 1715 lists the Cusabo as having five

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villages close to the English settlements and a population of 295. The census was taken before the Yamasee War (1715–17). Afterwards, in 1720, the colonel Robert Johnson notes that the war had the effect of “utterly extirpating sole little Tribes, as the (…) Sewee and some Corsaboy” (Waddell 1980: 118). What appears to be a Cusabo semantically transparent toponym occurs in a 1671 letter of the colonial official Joseph Dalton. Writing from Charleston, Dalton reported that the Savannah River was “called by the Indians Westoe bou signifying the enemies River a sorte of Indians at enmity with ours” (Cheves 1897: 382). The word Westoe was first mentioned among the Sewee (see 61.2.8)—who did not speak Cusabo as indicated above—and refers to a native group who were raiding in South Carolina coast when it was settled by the English in 1670 (Waddell 2004: 254). Bou, therefore, cannot be but the Cusabo term for ‘river’. An element bou or boo appears in many place names in coastal South Carolina, sometimes written separately. Swanton (1922: 24) indicated that the resemblance between Cusabo bou ‘river’ and Choctaw bok ‘river’ “points toward Muskhogean relationship”, explaining that “final -k in many Choctaw words is barely distinguishable as pronounced”. There is no reason, however, to think that this resemblance is anything more than a coincidence, as Goddard (2005: 23) states (cf. box ‘river, stream’ in Yiddish). With a single word of which we believe to know the meaning no plausible hypothesis about the linguistic affiliation of its language can, of course, be formulated.

61.2.7 Guale In the sixteenth century, during the early European colonial era, the Guale were located along the Atlantic coastal estuaries between the mouths of the Ogeechee and Altamaha rivers of northern Georgia. During the following century, the Guale were fully assimilated into the Spanish mission system. Epidemic population loss and English aggression eventually led to their relocation into Florida by 1685. After decades as refugees in two missions—Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe de Tolomato and Santa Catalina de Guale— located near St. Augustine, at least half of 24 surviving Guale left for Guanabacoa, Cuba, with the Spaniards in 1763. The fate of these people is unknown, though many died shortly after their arrival in Cuba (Worth 2004: 238, 242–244). No trace of the grammar of Guale by the sixteenth-century Jesuit missionary Domingo Augustín Váez or of the catechism and prayers he translated into that language has been found (Sturtevant 1994: 146, 2005: 10). The only two words of the language of the Guale we know point towards a Muskogean affiliation of the language. micoo ‘chief’, as written by Manrique de Rojas in 1564 (Wenhold 1959: 51): Creek míːkko, Alabama mikko, Koasati mikkó, Hitchiti-Mikasuki miki, Choctaw mĩko, and Chickasaw minkoʔ ‘chief’. Chiluques ‘Indians of Santa Elena’ (i.  e. Cusabo), as written by Matheo Pacheco y Salgado in 1671 (Waddell 1980: 191): Creek čilóːkki ‘Red Moiety’ (cf. čiloːkk-itá ‘to speak a different language’).



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It should be noted, however, that the term mico was also used in Catawba(n)-speaking areas and that the word Chiluques was probably also borrowed between languages as a generic denomination for speakers of a foreign language (cf. Cherokee), like the words pertaining to status that diffused widely in the Southeast (cf. also the use of chiluque at St. Augustine after 1723 for the Timucua-speaking Mocama) (Goddard 2005: 31–32). Since we are dealing with two words that may well be Muskogean loans, rather than native terms, nothing certain can be said about the affiliation of the language of the Guale.

61.2.8 Sewee The Sewee lived on or near the Santee River in South Carolina in 1564–1609 and, when the first English colonists visited them in 1670, they had a village on or near Bull’s Bay (Waddell 1980: 361). Lawson (1709: 10–11) states that the Sewee were formerly a large tribe, but in his time, 1700, they were wasted by smallpox and alcohol dependence. Moreover, a large proportion of the able-bodied men had been lost at sea in an attempt to open closer trade relations with England (Lawson 1709: 11–12). Just before the Yamasee War of 1715–17, the Sewee were living in a single village 60 miles northeast of Charleston, near the French settlements on the Santee River, with a total population of 57, but it is probable that the war put an end to them as a distinct tribe, as it seems to have happened with the Cusabo (Waddell 1980: 296–297). The remnant may have united with the Catawba according to Swanton (1952: 99). Some words of the language spoken by the Sewee occur in two relations of 1670 dealing with South Carolina (Waddel 1980: 31): one by Nicholas Carteret (C) and the other by William Owen (O). Appada (C)—Perhaps meaning ‘friend’. When a Sewee man called out this word, his armed tribesmen put away their arms and welcomed the English (Cheves 1897: 166). Hiddie dod (O)—Described as “a word of great kindness among them” (Cheves 1897: 199). Hiddeskeh (O)—This is said to mean ‘sickly’ (Cheves 1897: 201). Hiddy doddy Comorado Angles Westoe Skorrye (C)—Loosely translated as ‘English very good friends, Westoes are nought’ (Cheves 1897: 167); see above Hiddie dod. Comorado is from Spanish camarada ‘comrade’. Based on historical accounts and a comparison of the surviving native words (mainly toponyms) from South Carolina, Waddell (1980: 33) indicates that at least two languages were spoken by the native tribes of the South Carolina low country: one confined to the sector north of the Ashley River, probably Siouan, and another probably spoken by all of the tribes living south of the Ashley River. Given their geographical position, the Sewee should be Siouan-Catawba, but it should be noted that no SiouanCatawba morphemes can be recognized in the fragments of their language gathered above. That these are not attested in the scanty available Sewee linguistic material may, however, well be absence of evidence rather than evidence of absence.

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61.2.9 Shoccoree-Eno The Shoccoree and Eno are first mentioned by the Virginia official Francis Yardley in 1654, to whom a Tuscarora described, among other tribes of the interior living next to the “Cacores”, “a great nation” called “Haynoke”, by whom the northern advance of the Spaniards was valiantly resisted (Mooney 1894: 62). When visited by the German explorer Johann Lederer in 1670, the Shoccoree were on the Eno River in present-day North Carolina, and the Eno were about 15 miles to the eastnortheast, apparently on the Flat River at the head of the Neuse (Rudes, Blumer, and May 2004: 302). Lederer’s (1958: 28) statement that the “[Shackory-Indians] agree with the Oenocks in Customs and Manners” probably applies to language as well (Goddard 2005: 26). In 1701, John Lawson (1709: 56) found the Shoccoree and Eno confederated, and the (otherwise unknown) Adshusheer united with them. Their village, which he called Adshusheer, was on the Eno River, about 14 miles east of the Occaneechi village, which was near the site of present Hillsborough. Subsequently, they moved several times before eventually joining the Catawba in the second half of the seventeenth century (Mooney 1894: 61–62). Lawson (1709: 57) wrote in his narrative that the Shoccoree and Eno “are much addicted to a Sport they call Chenco, which is carry’d on with a Staff and a Bowl made of Stone, which they trundle upon a smooth Place, like a Bowling-Green, made for that Purpose” leaving us the only recorded word of their language.13

61.3 Unclassified languages of the Southern Plains At the time of contact, the portion of the Southern Plains south of the Rio Brazo was characterized by a linguistic density apparently quite similar to that of the adjacent Southeast. Also here, we have to deal with a large number of large and small groups. Some disappeared in colonial times with not even a small bit of their languages was preserved (Cuchendado, Geier, Malaguita, Quicuchabe, Quide, Sulujam, etc.). Some groups are now gone, but enough of their languages were recorded to state that they are not genealogically relatable to any other known language (Tonkawa, Karankawa, Coahuilteco, and Cotoname) enough material. Finally, some other groups still have native speakers (Comanche, but only in Oklahoma) or had them until recently (Wichita, in Oklahoma, and Lipan Apache, in New Mexico). In this chapter, we shall be concerned with four languages once spoken in this area that, based on the minimal documentation available, cannot be demonstrably linked to any other: Amotomanco (61.3.1), Solano (61.3.3), and Tanpachoa (61.3.4), in the Rio Grande basin, and Aranama (61.3.2) in the Gulf coastal plain.

13 This word is the source of chunkey, the English word for the game.



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61.3.1 Amotomanco The chronicler of a Spanish expedition of 1581 to New Mexico led by Commander Francisco “Chumascado” Sanchez, Hernán Gallegos, gave “Amotomancos” as the name of the language spoken by the natives near La Junta de los Ríos (‘the confluence of the rivers’, i.  e. the Rio Grande and the Conchos River) on the borders of present-day West Texas and northeastern Chihuahua. The name corresponds to the name “Otomoacos” used by Diego Pérez de Luxán, the chronicler of a 1582 Spanish entrada to New Mexico, to refer to a people of the area (Griffen 1979: 30). And it is probable that the Amotomanco or Otomoaco are same group as the natives of El Mesquite (Chihuahua), often called in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries simply “Mesquites” (ibid., 96). Very little is known of the language of the Amotomanco. Gallegos indicates that “[t]hey call water “abad;” corn “teoy;” and beans “ayaguate.”” (Hammond and Rey 1927: 254) and that “[t]hey call copper “porba” (ibid., 257). In addition, in describing an Amotomanco dance, Gallegos gives a two-word expression without providing a translation, so that nothing further can be said about it: “They raise their hands toward the sun and sing a dance tune, “ayia canima.”” (ibid., 259). The four Amotomanco nouns were discussed by Kroeber (1934: 15), Miller (1983: 332) and, in more detail, by Troike (1988: 238, 239). According to the last author, abad can be recognized as a reflex of Proto-Uto-Aztecan *paː ‘water’ by interpreting the initial a- as a demonstrative prefix and the final -d as an absolutive suffix (from Proto-Uto-Aztecan *-tɨ). The word teoy ‘corn’, again for Troike, could be a Nahuatl (or at least Aztecoid) loan, either prehispanic or, more likely, postcontact, reflecting contact of the Amotomanco with Tlaxcalans (or conceivably Spaniards speaking pidginized Nahuatl as a lingua franca) while working as captive laborers in the mines in southern Chihuahua. ͡ Specifically, teoy could be from pre-Aztecan *tɬayoli, with palatalization of the final /li/ to /y/ and simplification of /tɬ/͡ through borrowing (if not from a deaffricated t-dialect). The term for ‘beans’ is surely a Nahuatl loan. The possible original model proposed by Troike is form of a t-dialect such as *ayakʷate (cf. Classical Nahuatl ayakot ͡ɬi ~ ayekot ͡ɬi). With respect to porba (or payla in Obregón (1928: 280), reflecting a somewhat different version of Gallegos’ account) no comparable forms were indicated, neither by Troike nor Kroeber or Miller. With one native word that might be Uto-Aztecan but also not, one word that might be either an Aztecoid loan or a native word that has nothing to do with Uto-Aztecan, one patently Aztecoid loan, and one word which looks like nothing else, the only prudent conclusion we may deduce is to leave Amotomanco unclassified.

61.3.2 Aranama The Aranama (Anames, Jaranames, Juranames, Xaramenes, etc.) were known to be living on and near the southern coast of Texas (Swanton 1952: 308) and, from 1726 into

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the early nineteenth century, were largely associated with the Mission Valley and Goliad locations of Mission Espíritu Santo (Walter and Hester 2014: 103, 112). Little about them can be found in historical records. During Brigadier Pedro de Rivera’s 1727 inspection tour, the Aranama are described as nomads who practiced paganism and wore clothes made from deer and bison hides (Rivera 1736: sec. 2602). A nineteenth century account of the Aranama describes them as a “civilized tribe of Indians” that are “temperate” and fond of “painting their faces and bodies profusely” (Linn 1883: 336). Although difficult to assess, the Aranama population prior 1726 is estimated to be two hundred to four hundred individuals. By the 1770s, presumably (also) due to European-introduced diseases, this number dropped to approximately 150 (Walter and Hester 2014: 104–105), and as of 1843 the Aranama were considered extinct (Swanton 1952: 308). The entire documentation of the language of the Aranama in our possession consists of a single word and one two-word sentence recorded by the ethnologist Albert S. Gatschet in 1884 from a Tonkawa man known as Old Simon (Gatschet 1884) and first published, decades later, by Swanton (1940: 124): himiyaʹna ‘water’, himiaʹna tsaʹyi ‘Give me water!’. This scanty material does not permit the establishment of a connection between Aramana and any of the attested geographically close languages, as shown in Table 4.14 Tab. 4: Lexical comparison of the two attested Aranama words Meaning Aranama Coahuilteco Solano Tonkawa W. Karankawa Cotoname ComeAtakapa crudo ‘give me’ ‘water’ a b

tsaʹyi himiyaʹna

-a·xa wan

sieh apam

k-e·ke-w ʔa·x

hiʹ-mic baHúšb ka(u)ʹkau klej

– aʹx̣

ayemaʹa aʹx̣

'give' H stands for the unclear and putative value of in French and Spanish sources.

It does allow, however, the observation that the language shares with most of its neighbors an OV word order pattern.15

14 The sources used are Swanton (1940) (Cotoname, Comecrudo, and Solano), Troike (1996) (Coahuilteco), Hoijer (2018) (Tonkawa), and Gatschet & Swanton (1932) (Western Atakapa). 15 The only recorded Cotoname transitive clause (Swanton 1940: 118) has the structure VO. This clause has been recorded from an informant who spoke Spanish in everyday life and had not spoken Cotoname since he was a small child. As a result, it might reflect the Spanish word order. No Solano transitive clause was recorded.



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61.3.3 Solano Twenty-one words recorded near the end of a book of baptisms from the mission of San Francisco Solano, apparently during the time in which it was located on the Rio Grande below Eagle Pass, between 1703 and 1708, is all that remains of a language that shows no significant resemblances to nearby languages. The name of the group from which the words were obtained is unknown. We know however that the mission served at least four groups called Xarame, Payuguan, Papanac, and Siaguan (Bolton 1910a: 424–425, 1910b: 437). All twenty-one “Solano” words were published by Swanton (1940: 54–55). Some of them are compared in Table 5 with their equivalents in the geographically close Lipan Apache (Athabaskan), Coahuilteco, Comecrudo, and Tonkawa and in Proto-Uto-Aztecan.16 Tab. 5: Lexical comparison of some Solano words Meaning

Solano

Lipan Apache

Coahuilteco

Comecrudo

Tonkawa

Proto-Uto-Aztecan

‘father’ ‘four’ ‘meat’ ‘mother’ ‘three’ ‘water’

papam saath nikaog naha genin hipayō

-ʔaaší dínínɁí -cinin -Ɂ-nándí káíɁí kó

-xana·y puwa·nc̉an aha·wh -ta·y axtikpil ̉ wan

mawiʹs nawuiʹ eweʹ, kai maʹt, te yiʹy aʹx̣

ʔewas, ta·taʔ sikit ʔawas xʔay, ʔesaʔ metis ʔa·x

*na, *ta(ta), *ʔok *mako’ *tuhku, *waʔi *ye, *nan *pahi *pa

61.3.4 Tanpachoa A Spanish expedition to New Mexico led by Captain Francisco “Chumascado” encountered in 1581, upriver on the Rio Grande, a group who were apparently culturally very similar to the Amotomanco but who spoke a different language. The name of this group is not given in Gallegos’ account of the expedition, but they must have been the Tanpachoas mentioned in the account of another Spanish entrada to New Mexico of that time (Troike 1988: 240), who are probably the “Manso” (‘meek’) people met in the El Paso area in 1598 by the Spanish explorer Juan de Oñate: a people converted to Christianity during the seventeenth century, decimated by diseases in the eighteenth century, and disappeared as an ethnic entity within the first half of the nineteenth century (Beckett and Corbett 1992: 4–16). The only word we know of the language of the Tanpachoa is contained on the same page of Gallegos’ diary that documents their encounter: “These people call the arrow 16 The sources used are Hoijer (1956) (Lipan Apache), Miller (1967) (Proto-Uto-Aztecan), Swanton (1940) (Comecrudo and Cotoname), and Troike (1996) (Coahuilteco).

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“ocae,” the name given to the bamboo by the Mexicans” (Hammond and Rey 1927: 260). Being difficult to support a derivation for the term from Nahuatl aːkat ͡ɬ ‘reed, cane’ (cf. Mexican Spanish acate)—if it were borrowed from Nahuatl, one would expect the meaning to be ‘reed’—the word, according to Troike (1996: 240), could represent a reflex of Proto-Uto-Aztecan *hu ‘arrow, wood’ compounded with an obscure second element ka. As matters stand, on the basis of this one word, which is objectively very different from Proto-Uto-Aztecan, the likelihood of a Uto-Aztecan affiliation for Tanpachoa is doubtful at best. Acknowledgements: I am very grateful to the editors of this volume and Lyle Campbell for extremely useful and critical comments on an early version of this chapter.

References Beckett, Patrick H. & Terry L. Corbett. 1992. The Manso Indians. Las Cruces, NM: COAS Publishing and Research. Bolton, Herbert E. 1910a. San Antonio de Valero. In Frederick W. Hodge (ed.), Handbook of American Indians north of Mexico. Vol. 2, 424–426. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 30). Washington: Government Printing Office. Bolton, Herbert E. 1910b. San Francisco Solano. In Frederick W. Hodge (ed.), Handbook of American Indians north of Mexico. Vol. 2, 437. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 30). Washington: Government Printing Office. C. C. 1858. [Dalrymple’s short vocabulary of the language of the Pamunkey], Historical Magazine (New York) 2(1). 182. Campbell, Lyle. 2017. Introduction. In Lyle Campbell (ed.), Language isolates, xi–xiv. London and New York: Routledge. Campbell, Lyle & Eve Okura. 2018. New knowledge produced by the Catalogue of Endangered Languages. In Lyle Campbell & Anna Belew (eds.), Cataloguing the world’s endangered languages, 79–84. London & New York: Routledge. Chafe, Wallace. 2018. The Caddo language: a grammar, texts, and dictionary based on materials collected by the author in Oklahoma between 1960 and 1970. Petoskey, MI: Mundart Press. Cheves, Langdon (ed.). 1897. The Shaftesbury papers and other records relating to Carolina and the first settlement on Ashley River prior to the year 1676. (Collections of the South Carolina Historical Society 5). Charleston: South Carolina Historical Society. del Hoyo, Eugenio. 1960. Vocablos de la lengua quinigua de los indios Borrados del noreste de México. Humanitas. Anuario del Centro de Estudios Humanísticos. Universidad Autónoma de Nuevo León 1. 489–515. Drechsel, Emanuel J. 1996. An integrated vocabulary of Mobilian Jargon, a native American pidgin of the Mississippi Valley. Anthropological Linguistics 38. 248–354. Drechsel, Emanuel H. 1997. Mobilian Jargon: linguistic and sociohistorical aspects of a native American Pidgin. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Escalante Fontaneda, Hernando d’. 1944. Memoir of Do. d’Escalente Fontaneda respecting Florida, written in Spain, about the Year 1575. Trans. From the Spanish with notes by Buckingham Smith (Washington, 1854). Edited by David O. True. (University of Miami and the Historical Association of Southern Florida Miscellaneous Publications 1). Miami: University of Miami and Historical Association of Southern Florida.



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Linn, John J. 1883. Reminiscences of fifty years in Texas. New York: D. and J. Sadler. Margry, Pierre (ed.). 1880. Découvertes et établissements des français dans l’ouest et dans le sud de l’Amérique septentrionale (1614–1754). Vol. 4: Découverte par mer des bouches du Mississipi et établissements de Lemoyne d’Iberville sur le golfe du Mexique (1694–1703). Paris: D. Jouaust. Marquardt, William H. 2004. Calusa. In Raymond D. Fogelson (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians. Vol. 14: Southeast, 204–212. Washington: Smithsonian Institution. Martin, Jack B. 2004. Languages. In Raymond D. Fogelson (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians. Vol. 14: Southeast, 68–86. Washington: Smithsonian Institution. Miller, Wick R. 1967. Uto-Aztecan cognate sets. (University of California Publications in Linguistics 48). Berkeley/Los Angeles: University of California. Miller, Wick R. 1983. A note on extinct languages of Northwest Mexico of supposed Uto-Aztecan affiliation. International Journal of American Linguistics 49. 328–347. Mithun, Marianne. 1999. The Languages of native North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mooney, James. 1894. The Siouan tribes of the East. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 22). Washington: Government Printing Office. Mooney, James. 1907. The Powhatan Confederacy, past and present. American Anthropologist 9. 129–152. Mooney, James. 1910a. Nansemond. In Frederick W. Hodge (ed.), Handbook of American Indians north of Mexico. Vol. 2, 24. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 30). Washington: Government Printing Office. Mooney, James. 1910b. Pamunkey. In Frederick W. Hodge (ed.), Handbook of American Indians north of Mexico. Vol. 2, 197–198. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 30). Washington: Government Printing Office. Newcomb, William A., Jr. 2004. Atakapans and neighboring groups. In Raymond D. Fogelson (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians. Vol. 14: Southeast, 659–663. Washington: Smithsonian Institution. Obregón, Baltasar de. 1928. Obregón’s history of 16th century explorations in western America, entitled Chronicle, commentary, or relation of the ancient and modern discoveries in New Spain and New Mexico, Mexico, 1584. Translated, edited, and annotated by George P. Hammond & Agapito Rey. Los Angeles: Wetzel Publishing Company. Orozco y Berra, Manuel. 1864. Geografía de las lenguas y carta etnográfica de México. Mexico: Imprenta de J. M. Andrade y F. Escalante. Pentland, David H. 1996. The southern Algonquians and their neighbours. In David H. Pentland (ed.), Papers of the Twenty-Seventh Algonquian Conference, 224–237. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba. Pollard, John G., 1894. The Pamunkey Indians of Virginia. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 17). Washington: Government Printing Office. Rankin, Robert L., Richard T. Carter, A. Wesley Jones, John E. Koontz, David S. Rood & Iren Hartmann (eds.). 2015. Comparative Siouan dictionary. Leipzig: Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology. http://csd.clld.org (accessed 31 January 2023) Rhodes, Richard & David J. Costa, 2003. The history of Algonquian number words. In Blair Rudes & David J. Costa (eds.), Essays in Algonquian, Catawban, and Siouan linguistics in memory of Frank T. Siebert, Jr., 181–215. Winnipeg: Algonquian and Iroquoian Linguistics. Rivera, Pedro de. 1736 Diario. Y derrotero de lo caminado, visto, y obcervado en el discurso de la visita general de Precidios, situados en las Provincias Ynternas de Nueva España, que de orden de Su Magestad executô d. Pedro de Rivera, brigadier de los reales exercitos. Guatemala City: Sebastian de Arebalo. Rudes, Blair A., Thomas J. Blumer & J. Alan May. 2004. Catawba and neighboring groups. In Raymond D. Fogelson (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians. Vol. 14: Southeast, 301–318. Washington: Smithsonian Institution. Ruhlen, Merritt. 1991. A guide to the world’s languages. Vol. 1: Classification, 2nd ed. Stanford: Stanford University Press.



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Schoolcraft, Henry R. 1851. Personal memoirs of a residence of thirty years with the Indian tribes on the American frontiers: with brief notices of passing events, facts, and opinions, A.D. 1812 to A.D. 1842. Philadelphia: Lippincott, Grambo and Co. Sibley, John. 1832. Historical Sketches of the several Indian tribes in Louisiana, south of the Arkansas, and between the Mississippi and river Grande. In American State Papers, Class II, Indian Affairs. Vol. 1, 721–730. Washington: Gales and Seaton. Sjoberg, Andrée F. 1951. The Bidai Indians of southeastern Texas. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 7. 391–400. Sturtevant, William C. 1978. The last of the south Florida aborigines. In Jerald T. Milanich & Samuel Proctor (eds.), Tacachale: essays on the Indians of Florida and southeastern Georgia during the historic period, 141–162. Gainesville, FL: The University Presses of Florida. Sturtevant, William C. 1994. The misconnection of Guale and Yamasee with Muskogean. International Journal of American Linguistics 60. 139–148. Sturtevant, William C. 2005. History of research on the native languages of the Southeast. In Heather K. Hardy & Janine Scancarelli (eds.), Native languages of the southeastern United States, 8–65. Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press. Swanton, John R. 1911. Indian tribes of the lower Mississippi Valley and adjacent coast of the Gulf of Mexico. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 43). Washington: Government Printing Office. Swanton, John R. 1922. Early history of the Creek Indians and their neighbors. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 73). Washington: Government Printing Office. Swanton, John R. 1940. Linguistic material from the tribes of Southern Texas and Northeastern Mexico. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 127). Washington: Government Printing Office. Swanton, John R. 1942. Source material on the history and ethnology of the Caddo Indians. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 132). Washington: Government Printing Office. Swanton, John R. 1946. The Indians of the Southeastern United States. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 137). Washington: Government Printing Office. Swanton, John R. 1952. Indian tribes of North America. (Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 145). Washington: Government Printing Office. Tadmor, Uri, Martin Haspelmath & Bradley Taylor. 2010. Borrowability and the notion of basic vocabulary. Diachronica 27. 226–246. Troike, Rudolph C. 1988. Amotomanco (Otomoaco) and Tanpachoa as Uto-Aztecan languages, and the Jumano problem once more. International Journal of American Linguistics 54. 235–241. Troike, Rudolph C. 1996. Sketch of Coahuilteco, a language isolate of Texas. In Ives Goddard (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians. Vol. 17: Languages, 644–665. Washington: Smithsonian Institution. Waddell, Gene. 1980. Indians of the South Carolina lowcountry 1562–1751. Columbia, SC: Southern Studies Program, University of South Carolina. Waddell, Gene. 2004. Cusabo. In Raymond D. Fogelson (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians. Vol. 14: Southeast, 254–264. Washington: Smithsonian Institution. Walter, Tamra L. & Thomas R. Hester. 2014. “Countless heathens”: Native Americans and the Spanish Missions of Southern Texas and Northeastern Coahuilla. In Lee M. Panich & Tsim D. Schneider (eds.), Indigenous landscapes and Spanish missions: new perspectives from Archaeology and Ethnohistory, 93–113. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press. Weitlaner, Robert J. 1948. Un idioma desconocido del norte de México. In Actes du XXVIII Congrès International de Américanistes, Paris, 1947, 205–227. Paris: Société des Américanistes. Wenhold, Lucy L. 1959. Manrique de Rojas’ report on French settlement in Florida, 1564. The Florida Historical Quarterly 38. 45–62. Worth, John E. 2004. Guale. In Raymond D. Fogelson (ed.), Handbook of North American Indians. Vol. 14: Southeast, 238–244. Washington: Smithsonian Institution.

List of authors Patricia Anderson Tunica Language Project [email protected] Patricia M. Anderson holds a PhD in Linguistic Anthropology from Tulane University. They have been an active member of the Tunica Language Project since 2011 and the head lexicographer of the New Tunica Dictionary. They also created the Tunica Dictionary App. Their research focuses on language revitalization in Native North America and the intersection of language revitalization and technology. They are especially involved in leveraging everyday technology to encourage learner creativity and community empowerment in language revitalization efforts.

Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa [email protected] Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker is a Professor in the Department of Linguistics at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa, where she teaches primarily in the Language Documentation & Conservation track. Her scholarly activities involve extending the basic principles of documentary linguistics, especially those concerned with ethical applications of cyberinfrastructure and digital standards, toward two distinct but related goals. The first of these is mobilizing the tools and methods of documentary linguistics in support of language-community goals for language reclamation, and the second is championing responsible reproducible research across the discipline. She has facilitated language community access to digital language materials in Hawaiʻi, Alaska, Guam, Canada and Papua New Guinea through capacity building in the creation and preservation of language documentation.

Anna Berge University of Alaska Fairbanks [email protected] Anna Berge is a Professor of Linguistics at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. She received her PhD in Linguistics from the University of California, Berkeley in 1997. Her research interests include documentation, description, and the history of the Eskimo-Aleut languages, especially in the areas of morphosyntax, discourse, typology, and prehistoric language contact. She has worked with communities in Russia, Alaska, Eastern Canada, and Greenland, although her focus has been Unangam Tunuu. Currently, she is working on comparative Eskimo-Aleut linguistics, Language Contact in Prehistory along the North Pacific Coast, Aleut language documentation, archiving, maintenance and revitalization, and language learning materials. She teaches courses in Morphology, Semantics, Field Methods, Community Language Documentation, Language Contact, Language Contact in Prehistory (focusing on the North Pacific Coast), Eskimo-Aleut Linguistics, Unangax̂ Language and Culture, and Documentation and Archives.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-062

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Sonya Bird University of Victoria [email protected] Sonya Bird is a grateful settler on the beautiful lands of the Songhees, Esquimalt and W̱SÁNEĆ peoples, and an Associate Professor in Linguistics at the University of Victoria, specializing in articulatory and acoustic phonetics. She has been documenting the details of pronunciation in Coast Salish languages since 2002. She is particularly interested in the role of pronunciation in Indigenous language revitalization. Her current work is focused on supporting adult Hul’q’umi’num’ learners to speak proficiently and fluently. In collaboration with the Hul’q’umi’num’ Language & Culture Society and the Hul’q’umi’num’ Language Academy, she has been documenting the details of pronunciation across Hul’q’umi’num’ speakers of different generations and fluency levels, to understand what the challenges are for learners and to help design pedagogical tools and methods to overcome these challenges. On the pedagogical side, Sonya is particularly interested in exploring the benefits of incorporating phonetic analysis and “speech visualization” into pronunciation learning and teaching. Sonya has also been actively involved in developing and teaching in UVic’s graduate programs in Indigenous Language Revitalization. She is also currently the academic advisor for UVic’s undergraduate Certificate in Indigenous Language Revitalization.

Heather Bliss Simon Fraser University [email protected] Heather is a non-Indigenous linguist living and working in the traditional and unceded territories of the hənq̓ə̓minə̓m̓-speaking Coast Salish peoples. She was born and raised in Mohkinsstsis (Calgary, Alberta)

and is a proud alumnus of the University of Calgary (BA Honours, 2003; MA 2005) and the University of British Columbia (PhD, 2013), and a former postdoctoral fellow at the University of Victoria (SSHRC 2014-16; Banting 2016-18). Her interest in Indigenous language revitalization stems from long-standing collaborative relationships with members of the Blackfoot-speaking Siksika and Kainai Nations in Southern Alberta. Today she is a part-time Lecturer at Simon Fraser University and a committed language revitalist, supporting Indigenous communities and organizations with linguistic research, language documentation, facilitation, planning, and resource development.

M. Ryan Bochnak University of British Columbia [email protected] M. Ryan Bochnak is an Assistant Professor in Linguistics at the University of British Columbia. His main research interest involves combining semantics and fieldwork. He has been fortunate to work with speakers from the Washo (Washoe) community since 2009, where he has investigated topics such as comparison, tense, aspect, modality and subordination. He has also conducted research on indigenous languages of Africa, particularly Luganda and Wolof.



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Elizabeth Bogal-Allbritten Norwegian University of Science and Technology [email protected] Elizabeth Bogal-Allbritten received her doctorate in linguistics from the University of Massachusetts Amherst and has held postdoctoral positions at Simon Fraser University and the University of Gothenburg. She has been a regular participant at Diné Bizaad Naalkaah (Navajo Language Academy) since 2008, and her research has focused on the semantics and pragmatics of Diné Bizaad (Navajo), including the meaning and use of attitude verbs, modals, adjectives, and superlatives.

George Aaron Broadwell University of Florida [email protected] George Aaron Broadwell is Elling Eide Professor of Anthropology at University of Florida. His research focuses on endangered languages, primarily Native American languages of the United States and Mesoamerica. He is interested in integrating language description and documentation with contemporary work in linguistic theory. He is also committed to working with Native American communities to provide dictionaries, texts, and other materials that are useful in language revitalization and maintenance.

Eugene Buckley University of Pennsylvania [email protected] Eugene Buckley is Associate Professor of Linguistics at the University of Pennsylvania. He wrote his dissertation at the University of California, Berkeley, on the sound and word structure of Kashaya, and since that time much of his research has focused on this language, as well as the Pomoan family to which it belongs. In the past decade he has worked to contribute to the documentation of Kashaya and to make the large body of written material and audio recordings more easily available for use by community language learners.

Melvatha R. Chee University of New Mexico [email protected] Melvatha R. Chee is Tsé Nahabiłnii, Kin Łichíi’nii, Hooghan Łání and Áshįįhí. As a Diné speaker, she has over 20 years of experience working with her heritage language in a professional capacity. Dr. Chee’s research focuses on the linguistic analysis of Navajo child speech. Through the analysis of child speech, Chee studies how children analyze information that is packaged into a single word and what patterns are recognized at different stages of linguistic development. Dr. Chee’s research interests include the first language acquisition of diné bizaad, as well as the intersection between culture and linguistics. Her secondary research goal focuses on building a Navajo language database. Dr. Chee is a USMC Veteran, and she maintains a connection to her culture to enrich her Navajo language skills, knowledge, and wellbeing. She is Assistant Professor of Linguistics and Director of the Navajo Language Program at the University of New Mexico.

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Sihwei Chen Academia Sinica [email protected] Sihwei Chen is an Assistant Research Fellow at the Institute of Linguistics at Academia Sinica. She received her PhD in linguistics from the University of British Columbia in 2018. Her research interest lies in the area of semantics and its interaction with (morpho-)syntax and pragmatics, with a focus on languages of the indigenous peoples of Taiwan (Formosan, Austronesian). She is grateful to have gained experience studying and working on Blackfoot and Tlingit during her PhD program. Her previous research topics include tense, aspect, modality and their interactions.

Kari A. B. Chew [email protected] Dr. Kari A. B. Chew (she/her) is a Chickasaw citizen and Chikashshanompa’ (Chickasaw language) learner based in the Chickasaw Nation. As a scholar-educator, Dr. Chew’s work contributes to intergenerational Indigenous language revitalization and reclamation. Engaging decolonizing methodologies, she researches technology to support Indigenous languages, pedagogies for Indigenous language learning and teaching, and Indigenous language-in-education policy. She works closely with the Chickasaw Nation on language education projects, including Chickasaw Rosetta Stone. She has a doctorate in Indigenous Language ­Education and Linguistics from the University of Arizona and was a postdoctoral fellow with NEȾOLṈEW̱ “one mind, one people” at the University of Victoria.

Rae Anne Claxton Tsawout First Nation and University of Alberta [email protected] Rae Anne Claxton is W̱SÁNEĆ from SȾÁUTW̱, born in Quw’utsun and raised between both of her communities on Vancouver Island. She is currently a PhD student in the Department of Linguistics at the University of Alberta, having previously received her Master’s degree from Simon Fraser University. Outside of her studies, Rae Anne is a sessional instructor for the University of Victoria where she develops culturally-­ appropriate resources and curriculum focused on empowering speakers of a polysynthetic Indigenous language, Hul’q’umi’num’ (a dialect of Halkomelem); her delivery is trauma-informed and culturally-inspired, leaning heavily on her understanding and experience of being taught by her elders within her community. Rae Anne continues to aim towards Hul’q’umi’num’ fluency, participating in First Peoples’ Cultural Council’s Mentor-Apprentice Program with her si’lu, Sarah Modeste, as her mentor. Rae Anne is dedicated to reclaiming language use in her family and contributing to the reclamation of language in her communities. 

Richard Compton Université du Québec à Montréal [email protected] Richard Compton is an Associate Professor of Linguistics at Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM) and chairholder of the Canada Research Chair in Transmission and Knowledge of the Inuit Language (Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council). He earned his PhD in Linguistics from the University of Toronto in 2012. His work explores the morphosyntax of agreement, polysynthetic word-formation, and lexical and



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functional categories in Inuktitut and Inuinnaqtun. He co-authored a dictionary of Inuinnaqtun with Emily Kudlak that was published by Nunavut Arctic College (Kudlak & Compton 2018) and he was the lead organizer of the 21st Inuit Studies Conference which was held at UQAM in 2019.

Ewa Czaykowska-Higgins University of Victoria [email protected] Ewa Czaykowska-Higgins is a linguist who has worked for many years with the nxaʔamxčín Language Program of Colville Tribes and SENĆOŦEN-speaking communities. Her work has included supporting and contributing to community language reclamation projects, digital dictionary construction, and expanding community-based research methodology in language documentation. She is Professor of Indigenous Education at the University of Victoria where she contributes to undergraduate and graduate Indigenous Language Revitalization programs. She is currently a co-PI on the NEȾOLṈEW̱: “One mind, One People” Project. Her work with the W̱SÁNEĆ School Board on ÁȽȻEȽ SĆȺ: “Heading Out to Sea” digitizes, archives and mobilizes the works of the late PENAĆ LE Dave Elliot, creator of the SENĆOŦEN orthography, for use by SENĆOŦEN immersion teachers.

Carmen Dagostino California State University, San Bernardino [email protected] Carmen Dagostino (formerly Jany) is a Professor of Spanish and Linguistics at California State University, San Bernardino where she co- created the California Indian Languages program. She earned her PhD in Linguistics from the University of California, Santa Barbara (2007) and a Doctorate in Hispanic Linguistics from the University of Zurich, Switzerland (2001). Her research interests include languages of California and Mixe-Zoquean languages, linguistic typology, grammar writing and language documentation, phonetics and phonology, and language contact and bilingualism. Over the past decade, she has been working on the archival research of Chimariko, a dormant Northern California language, as well as on the documentation of Chuxnabán Mixe, a Mexican indigenous language spoken in Oaxaca.

Amy Dahlstrom University of Chicago [email protected] Amy Dahlstrom is Associate Professor of Linguistics at the University of Chicago. Her work focuses on the morphology, syntax, semantics, and information structure of Algonquian languages, especially Meskwaki and Plains Cree.

Ryan DeCaire Onkwawén:na Kentyóhkwa and the University of Toronto [email protected] Ryan DeCaire is Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) and was born and raised in Wáhta Mohawk Territory, Ontario, Canada. He is an Associate Professor in the Department of Linguistics and the Centre for Indigenous

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Studies at the University of Toronto, and a curriculum developer and teacher at Onkwawén:na Kentyóhkwa, an adult Kanien’kéha (Mohawk language) immersion school.

Philip T. Duncan University of Kansas [email protected] Philip T. Duncan is and Assistant Teaching Professor in Linguistics an Affiliate Faculty in Indigenous Studies at the University of Kansas. His research interests include morphology and syntax with a propensity for the sociocultural. Within morphosyntax and field linguistics, he has explored the types of architectures that are implicated in various constructions across the clausal spine, from verbal structures to focus constructions, mostly within the Indigenous languages of the Americas and West Africa. Currently, he is taking a holistic approach to the morphosyntax of Me’phaa, an Otomanguean language, examining the interrelatedness of verbal structures, semantics and clausal structures.

Eric Elliott Pechanga Indian Reservation [email protected] Eric Elliott is a schoolteacher and linguist for the Pechanga Tribal Government, as well as a lecturer at California State University, San Bernardino for Luiseño, Cahuilla, and Classical Nahuatl. He received his PhD from the University of California, San Diego in 1999. Working closely with three wonderful women: Villiana Hyde, a native speaker of the Rincon dialect of Luiseño, Katherine Siva Sauvel, a native speaker of Cahuilla and Dorothy Ramon, a native speaker of Serrano, he was able to document these languages and publish dictionaries and story collections.

Colleen M. Fitzgerald North Dakota State University [email protected] Colleen Fitzgerald holds a PhD in Linguistics from the University of Arizona. Her research focuses on the phonology of Native American languages and language documentation and revitalization along with the frequent points of intersection between the two. Her work engages topics such as participatory research methods; service-learning; broadening participation in the social sciences; and science communication. Currently, she is the Vice President for research and creative activity at North Dakota State University. Prior, she served as Associate Vice President for research at Texas A&M University – Corpus Christi. Previous to that, Colleen was detailed to the NSF from the University of Texas at Arlington, where she ran a joint funding partnership between NSF and the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) called the Documenting Endangered Languages Program.



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Clarissa Forbes University of British Columbia graduate; First Voices [email protected]; [email protected] Clarissa Forbes received her PhD in linguistics from the University of Toronto in 2018 and was recently a Documenting Endangered Languages fellow at the University of Arizona (2020–2021). Her research interests are in the languages of northwest North America, morphology, syntax, language documentation, and digital resource development. She is grateful to have experience since 2011 working with the language of the Gitxsan people of British Columbia (Gitksan or Gitxsanimx̲, Tsimshianic), with the help of many elders. Her research includes work on nominal structure, plurality, agreement, ergativity, extraction, word order, and automated parsing of word structure. In recent years, she has focused on the documentation and morphosyntactic analysis of Gitxsanimx̲ oral narratives, with an eye to the development of story-oriented pedagogical materials for learning word and sentence structure, and she is actively involved in editing the online Gitksan talking dictionary.

Andrew Garrett University of California, Berkeley [email protected] Andrew Garrett is a Professor of Linguistics and the Nadine M. Tang and Bruce L. Smith Professor of Cross-Cultural Social Sciences at the University of California, Berkeley, where he directs the Survey of California and Other Indian Languages. His Indigenous language work has focused on the Yurok and Karuk languages of northwestern California, especially including two decades of collaboration with the Yurok Tribe language program in language documentation and revitalization. At Berkeley, with support from the National Endowment for the Humanities and the National Science Foundation, he also led the development of the California Language Archive (a digital repository of Indigenous language documentation from throughout the western hemisphere) and collaborated on digitizing and making accessible a collection of 2,700 recordings of Indigenous language and music from the first decades of the twentieth century.

Susan Gehr College of the Redwoods [email protected] Susan Gehr, Karuk, has worked variously as a linguist, a librarian, and an archivist. Several years into learning to speak Karuk through community classes, and with Violet Super in the Advocates for Indigenous California Language Survival’s Master-Apprentice Language Learning Program, Gehr finished an MA in linguistics, going on to work on Karuk language documentation and co-publishing the Karuk Dictionary with linguist William Bright. In the course of her work creating and collecting Karuk language materials for the tribe’s language program, Gehr became interested in what role archives and archivists have in Native American languages revitalization. She conducted an oral history of AICLS’ Breath of Life Archival Institute for Indigenous California Languages, for her MLIS thesis at San José State University.

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Bryan Gick University of British Columbia [email protected] Bryan Gick is a non-Indigenous settler working as a linguist at the University of British Columbia, located on the traditional, ancestral and unceded territories of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm, Sḵwx̱wú7mesh, and Səl̓ílwətaɬ  Nations (Vancouver campuses) and the Sylix peoples (Okanagan campus). He is Founding Co-director of Language Sciences and Director of the Integrated Speech Research Laboratory at UBC. His books include a translation of the Oneida creation story (as told by Demus Elm and Harvey Antone) and a textbook on A ­ rticulatory Phonetics. His research focuses on how people interact with each other and their environment, and how this interaction can inform models of linguistic communication. In the course of this work, he and his collaborators have developed techniques for applying ultrasound imaging technology to speech research, protocols for studying haptic (tactile) perception of speech, and computational tools for bio­mechanical simulations.

Matthew K. Gordon University of California, Santa Barbara [email protected] Matthew K. Gordon is a Professor of Linguistics at the University of California, Santa Barbara. He earned his PhD in Linguistics from the University of California, Los Angeles in 1999. The focus of his research is on phonetics, the study of speech sounds, and phonology, the study of the organization of sound in linguistic systems. He examines the acoustic properties of speech and how these properties are perceived by the auditory system. He is interested in exploring the idea that articulatory and auditory factors play an important role in shaping phonological systems. Much of his work involves the study of prosodic features of language, such as stress and intonation, centered around languages which are relatively underdocumented, including Balto-Finnic languages like Estonian, Northwest Caucasian languages like Kabardian, and American Indian languages like Chickasaw and Koasati.

Emily A. Hanink Indiana University Bloomington [email protected] Emily A. Hanink is an Assistant Professor at Indiana University. She received her PhD in Linguistics from the University of Chicago in 2018. Her work focuses on the syntax of nominal expressions, clausal embedding, relative clauses, and agreement, and especially on the ways in which the structure of these expressions interacts with both morphology and semantics. Emily has studied Wá:šiw since 2015, with profound gratitude to the elders who have shared their language as her teachers. Some of her recent publications on the language cover switch reference, internally headed relative clauses, negative concord, word formation, and strategies of clausal embedding.

Hannah J. Haynie University of Colorado Boulder [email protected] Hannah J. Haynie is an Assistant Professor of Linguistics at the University of Colorado Boulder. She earned her PhD at the University of California, Berkeley, and completed postdoctoral fellowships in Linguistics at



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Yale University and in Cultural Evolution and Biocultural Diversity at Colorado State University. Professor Haynie’s research focuses generally on linguistic diversity, language prehistory, and language change. She takes a special interest in languages of North America and the linguistic diversity of the California area. Her work is driven by an interest in how linguistic diversity arises from processes of language change that operate at multiple spatiotemporal scales, and curiosity about the competing pressures that shape language change and language diversity. With an interdisciplinary background, Dr. Haynie integrates linguistic analysis with methodological approaches inspired by work in geography, ecology, and evolutionary biology to investigate these questions.

Robert Henderson University of Arizona [email protected] Robert Henderson is an Associate Professor of Linguistics at the University of Arizona and received his PhD in Linguistics from the University of California, Santa Cruz. His research is in formal semantics with a special focus on the indigenous languages of Mesoamerica (especially Mayan languages). His research has a strong empirical component and includes primary fieldwork on a number of Mayan languages spoken in Guatemala. He works to describe, document, and analyze these languages in their own right, while also discovering what they can tell us about how human languages work in general. His current major research projects include dog whistles in political speech, compositional morphosyntax of plurality, and Mayan syntax and phonology.

Ryan E. Henke University of Wisconsin–Madison [email protected] Ryan E. Henke is an Assistant Professor at the University of Wisconsin–Madison, where he focuses on the vitality of the Indigenous languages of North America. His research primarily involves first language acquisition, language documentation and description, and language revitalization. As a member of the Chisasibi Child Language Acquisition Study (www.mun.ca/cclas/), much of his work has centered on Iiyiyiuyimuwin (Northern East Cree), an Algonquian language spoken in several communities of Eeyou Istchee in Northern Québec, Canada. His work is dedicated to understanding how young children and learners acquire languages such as Iiyiyiuyimuwin, how speakers use these languages, and how best to use this knowledge to inform language science and community-grounded efforts such as language nests and immersion programs.

Timothy P. Henry-Rodriguez California State University, Fullerton [email protected] Timothy Henry-Rodriguez is a lecturer of linguistics at California State University, Fullerton, an adjunct research associate in the College of Arts, Society and Education at James Cook University, and is a founding board member of the Western Institute for Endangered Language Documentation. The research interests of Dr. Henry-Rodriguez include language change, morphophonology, information flow, Chumashan languages, and languages of Papua New Guinea (specifically, languages of the Gum River area in Madang Province). Dr. Henry-Rodriguez supports language revitalization efforts, and he works with Ventureño language learners to help develop pedagogical materials.

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Daniel W. Hieber Chitimacha Tribe of Louisiana [email protected] Daniel W. Hieber is a linguist with the Chitimacha Tribe of Louisiana, where he works to produce a modern dictionary, grammar, and language revitalization materials for the Chitimacha language. His research focuses on the documentation, description, and revitalization of languages in North America, with specializations in linguistic typology, functional theory, and digital linguistics. He received his doctorate in linguistics from the University of California, Santa Barbara, and completed a postdoctoral fellowship at the University of Alberta's Language Technology Lab (ALTLab), where he worked to create smart online dictionaries for Algonquian languages.

Gary Holton University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa [email protected] Gary Holton is a Professor of Linguistics at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa, where he teaches courses in documentary linguistics and biocultural diversity. His research focuses on the diversity of linguistic and cultural knowledge systems, employing interdisciplinary, community-based approaches to language maintenance and language documentation.

Peter Jacobs Simon Fraser University [email protected] Tiná7 tkwa Wiwiḵ’em ta Peter (Peter comes from a Squamish Nation village, Wiwḵ’em, near Brackendale, B.C.). Galułi lax̱ Tsax̱is (he is also from the Kwaguł village of Tsax̱is, Fort Rupert, B.C.). Peter worked for over 25 years at the Squamish Nation in language revitalization of the Sḵwx̱wu7mesh snichim, the language of his father’s side of his family. He also conducts research on Kwak’wala, the language of his mother’s side of his family. He taught at the University of Victoria for five years before moving to Simon Fraser University, where he is Associate Professor of Linguistics. At the Squamish Nation, he was the editor-in-chief for the Sḵwx̱wu7mesh Snichim-Xweliten Snichim Sḵexwts (Squamish-English Dictionary). At the University of Victoria, he investigated adult language learners in the Mentor-Apprentice Program (MAP) and other MAP-like programs in B.C. with co-investigator Dr. Onowa McIvor. He is currently a co-principal investigator with Dr. McIvor, partnering with 9 First Nations communities across Canada to investigate the role of adult learners in reviving their Indigenous languages.

Joana Jansen Northwest Indian Language Institute and the University of Oregon [email protected] Joana Jansen is Associate Director of Project Development and Coordination of the Northwest Indian Language Institute (NILI) at the University of Oregon, where she earned her PhD in Linguistics. Her work focuses on the overlap of Native American language documentation with language revitalization, and integrates research, teaching, and outreach. She is a linguist, teacher trainer, curriculum developer and project manager, and is the coordinator of NILI’s yearly Summer Institute. She works with speakers and learners



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of Native languages at the University of Oregon and beyond to support language documentation, description, archiving and teaching goals. Research interests include language teacher education, collaborative research models for mutually beneficial work involving academic institutions and Tribal communities, and linguistic description, analysis and revitalization of the Ichishkíin/Sahaptin language.

Barbara Jenni University of Victoria [email protected] Barbara Jenni is a doctoral student in the Faculty of Education at the University of Victoria, Victoria, BC, Canada.

Wesley Y. Leonard University of California, Riverside [email protected] Wesley Y. Leonard is an Associate Professor of Ethnic Studies at the University of California, Riverside. Drawing from his training in linguistics and experience in community language programs, he researches Native American language reclamation and strives to build capacity for Native American language communities in ways that support tribal sovereignty, promote wellness, and advance decolonization. A citizen of the Miami Tribe of Oklahoma, a special focus of his scholarship has been his nation’s formerly sleeping language, which was brought back into the community use from legacy documentation. He co-chairs the collaborative Natives4Linguistics Project, which promotes Indigenous needs and intellectual tools as ways of doing linguistic science.

Olga Lovick University of Saskatchewan [email protected] Olga Lovick is a Professor of Linguistics at the University of Saskatchewan specializing in Dene languages spoken in Alaska and Canada. She has (co-)edited two story collections in Upper Tanana Dene and written a comprehensive two-volume grammar of this language. In addition to language description and documentation, her interests include anthropological linguistics and language maintenance. She was part of the Dene Teacher Education Program (First Nations University of Canada/University of Regina) in 2016–2020 and currently works with the communities of Clearwater River Dene Nation and La Loche to document the Dëne Sųłiné language spoken there.

Megan Lukaniec University of Victoria [email protected] Megan Lukaniec is a member of the Huron-Wendat Nation of Wendake, Québec and an Assistant Professor of Indigenous Language Revitalization in the Indigenous Studies Program at the University of Victoria. Since 2006, she has been working with and for her community to reawaken and reclaim the Wendat language, which was dormant for over 150 years. She continues to work for the Wendat Language Sector, where she reconstructs the language from legacy documentation, creates reference materials, and

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contributes to the development of curricula and pedagogical materials. She received her Ph.D. in Linguistics from the University of California, Santa Barbara. Her most recent research, supported by a SSHRC grant and in collaboration with Martin Holmes of the University of Victoria’s Humanities Computing and Media Centre, focuses on the development of parallel, bilingual dictionaries of Wendat through building and analyzing a digital corpus of archival documentation encoded in TEI XML.

Erik Hans Maier Independent scholar [email protected] Erik Hans Maier received his Ph.D. in Linguistics from the University of California, Berkeley and works ­primarily with the Karuk language of northwestern California.

Jack B. Martin College of William & Mary [email protected] Jack Martin is the Chancellor Professor of English and Linguistics at the College of William & Mary, where he directs the Linguistics Program, and earned his PhD in Linguistics from the University of California, Los Angeles. His research focuses on the Native languages of the southern U.S., especially the Muskogean family (Muskogee, Miccosukee, Koasati, Choctaw). Much of his work with these languages is carried out in collaboration with tribal nation staff, schools, and museums in eastern Oklahoma, south Florida, and western Louisiana. He is interested in syntax, phonology (especially tone), typology, and historical linguistics, in addition to language documentation, maintenance, and linguistics training.

Lisa Matthewson University of British Columbia [email protected] Lisa Matthewson is a Professor and Distinguished University Scholar in the Department of Linguistics at the University of British Columbia. She is a semanticist and a fieldworker. Her primary focus is on languages of North America, with a secondary specialization in Austronesian. She is privileged and grateful to have been able to work on St’át’imcets (a Salish language, spoken in British Columbia) since the early 1990s, and on Gitksan (a Tsimshianic language, spoken in British Columbia) since 2010. Her research interests center on semantic cross-linguistic variation and universals, and the specific topics she investigates include modality, tense, aspect, evidentials, quantification, determiners, discourse particles, and presupposition.

Judith M. Maxwell Tulane University [email protected] Judith M. Maxwell, Louise Rebecca Schawe and Williedell Schawe Professor of Linguistics and Anthropology, Newcomb College Institute, Tulane University. As a linguistic anthropologist, I have worked primarily with indigenous languages of Middle and North America, including Pipil, Yucatec Maya, Kaqchikel, K’iche’, Tz’utujiil, Q’eqchi’, Ixil, Mam, Chuj, Q’anojb’al, Popti’, Poqomchi’, Akateka, Uspantec, Sipakapense,



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Uspanteka, Tojolab’al, Ojibwe, Han (Athapaskan) and Tunica. Since 1987 I have directed the Kaqchikel Language and Culture program, Oxlajuj Aj, through the Tulane Mayan Language Institute. Since 2010, I and students from Tulane have collaborated with the Tunica-Biloxi Tribe of Louisiana to re-awaken the once-sleeping Tunica language, which now has over 80 young learners, two master teachers and five apprentice instructors. I direct the Native American studies minor at Tulane and teach courses ranging from Discourse Analysis to Lexicography.

Onowa McIvor University of Victoria [email protected] Onowa McIvor is maskékow-ininiw (a Swampy Cree person) and Scottish-Canadian, born and raised in Treaty 6 territory. She has been a grateful visitor in SENĆOŦEN and Lekwungen speaking territories for over 20 years and is an urban nêhiyâwiwin language learner and Indigenous language warrior. Onowa is a Professor of Indigenous Education at the University of Victoria, where she holds a President’s Chair for Research in Indigenous language revitalization. Her research spans the fields of Indigenous language revitalization, immersion and bilingual education, sociocultural language learning, additional language acquisition, Indigenous education, and Indigenous health and well-being. Her current work focuses on understanding and enhancing Indigenous adults’ contributions to reviving Indigenous languages, how language is linked to health and well-being, and maximizing collaborative efforts towards Indigenous language revitalization. This work includes the development of a collaboration portal nilla.ca connecting language revitalization efforts in Canada and the US.

Andrew McKenzie University of Kansas [email protected] Andrew McKenzie is an Associate Professor of Linguistics and Affiliate Professor of Indigenous Studies at the University of Kansas. His primary research interests lie in formal semantics and theory-driven language documentation. His semantic research uncovers the ways that context and configuration combine to build the semantics of phenomena like switch-reference and incorporation. Additionally, he applies semantic and pragmatic concepts to the operating room, mapping the effects and risk of unspoken meaning in communication between surgeons during operations. A member of the Kiowa Tribe of Oklahoma, he consistently applies theoretical concepts to improve and complete the documentation of the Kiowa language. His longstanding collaborations with those who teach Kiowa to new generations has produced helpful pedagogical tools. He has also brought archival materials by linguists and community members into public reach, including the first published collection of Kiowa language stories.

Line Mikkelsen University of California Berkeley [email protected] Line Mikkelsen is Professor of Linguistics at University of California Berkeley. She received her Ph.D. in linguistics from the University of California, Santa Cruz. Her research spans morphology, syntax, semantics, and pragmatics, and the interactions among these. Her work with California Indian communities centers on documentation, description and revitalization of Karuk and Chochenyo.

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Amy Miller [email protected] Amy Miller is an independent scholar with a PhD from the University of California, San Diego. She has worked with Yuman groups north and south of the border, including the Barona Band of Mission Indians and the Quechan Tribe, to produce dictionaries, texts collections, and multi-media language documentation. She also writes technical and reference grammars and does research in comparative Yuman.

Armik Mirzayan University of Virginia [email protected] Armik Mirzayan is an Assistant Professor of Anthropology at the University of Virginia and earned his PhD in Linguistics from the University of Colorado at Boulder. He previously held the positions of Assistant Professor at the University of South Dakota, where he coordinated the Lakota Language and Linguistics programs and served as the language and linguistics instructor for the Lakota Language Education Action Program, a federally funded program held jointly at USD and Sitting Bull College. Armik has been studying Lakota and doing linguistic research on Siouan and Caddoan languages since 1999. His specific research within linguistics is focused on phonetics and sound patterns of languages, language change, and language revitalization. He has recorded, digitized, and managed video/audio databases for Wichita, an endangered Indigenous American language of the Caddoan family. He regularly partners with the Standing Rock Language and Culture Institute to teach courses for their annual Dakota/Lakota Summer Institute.

Marianne Mithun University of California, Santa Barbara [email protected] Marianne Mithun is Professor of Linguistics at the University of California, Santa Barbara. Her interests range over morphology, syntax, discourse, prosody, and their interrelations, particularly the way these are used in spontaneous speech; language contact and language change, especially the evolution of grammar; language typology and its potential explanations; and language documentation and revitalization. Much of her work has focused on collaboration with speakers of Mohawk, Cayuga, and Tuscarora (Iroquoian), Central Pomo (Pomoan), Barbareño Chumash (Chumashan), Central Alaskan Yup’ik (Yupik-Inuktitut-Unangan), and Navajo (Dene) in North America, and with speakers of Kapampangan and Hiligaynon (Austronesian) of the Philippines. 

Tess Nolan University of Victoria [email protected] Tess Nolan is a PhD candidate in Linguistics at the University of Victoria, where they work on language documentation and revitalization, with a main focus on acoustic phonetics and adult second language learning of Salish languages, currently Hul’q’umi’num’. Their current research focuses on the phonetics of consonants, vowels, and consonant clusters, as well as the pronunciation of adult language learners and elder speakers. Tess is also part of a broader team studying Hul’q’umi’num’ language learning and the role of phonetic analysis in pedagogy.



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Will Oxford University of Manitoba [email protected] Will Oxford is an Associate Professor in the Department of Linguistics at the University of Manitoba, where he teaches courses in both general linguistics and the structure of Algonquian languages. His research focuses on the grammar of Algonquian languages from descriptive, historical, and theoretical perspectives, with a particular interest in making the findings of the rich tradition of linguistic research on Algonquian languages more accessible to non-specialists. He took part in the development of the Innu-French-English dictionary and has had the privilege of learning from speakers of Innu, Cree, Ojibwe, and Oji-Cree.

Kayla Palakurthy University of California, Davis [email protected] Kayla Palakurthy received her doctorate in linguistics from the University of California, Santa Barbara and is currently a National Science Foundation postdoctoral research fellow in linguistics at the University of California, Davis. Her research focuses on language documentation and revitalization, language variation and change, and language contact. She has had the privilege of working with speakers and teachers of Diné Bizaad (Navajo) through her research and involvement with Diné Bizaad Naalkaah (Navajo Language Academy). In her current work, she investigates sociolinguistic variation and intergenerational change among contemporary bilingual Diné Bizaad-English speakers.

Tyler Peterson Arizona State University [email protected] Tyler Peterson is an Assistant Professor of Linguistics and Applied Linguistics in the Department of English at Arizona State University. His work focuses on the documentation, revitalization, and maintenance of endangered indigenous languages in Arizona, Canada, and Polynesia. His research as a linguist involves the study of how meaning is expressed through language, with a special interest in exploring how everyday technology and contemporary media can be used as a tool for language documentation and engaging community language learners. He works actively with communities in Arizona and the Southwest, collaborating with tribal language programs in helping build their capacities for language revitalization.

Keren Rice University of Toronto [email protected] Keren Rice is a Professor of Linguistics at the University of Toronto. She was the first director of what is now Indigenous Studies, where she helped to establish what has become an excellent program. She has worked extensively with speakers of Dene languages in Canada’s Northwest Territories, who helped her to understand the intimate link between language and culture. She has a deep interest in language revitalization/reclamation and ethics of linguistic fieldwork, includ­ing community-based research. She wrote an award-winning grammar of Slave (now called Dene) and was part

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of a team that produced a dictionary of Dene as spoken in Fort Good Hope. She has most recently been part of a team carrying out a survey on language use and language attitudes in Déli̜ ne̜, NWT.

Sally Rice University of Alberta [email protected] Sally Rice is Professor Emerita of Linguistics at the University of Alberta in Canada. Between 2007 and 2011 she was the Landrex Distinguished Professor in the Faculty of Arts at the University of Alberta. Her research spans multiple methodologies, from corpus linguistics, field elicitation and observation, to psycholinguistic experimentation; it focuses on two main issues: a) the inseparability of meaning and form and b) the priority of empirical methodologies over linguistic theorizing. Rice specializes in the Indigenous languages of Canada, in particular Dene languages, and she was one of the founding directors of the Canadian Indigenous Languages and Literacy Development Institute (CILLDI), proving training in Canadian First Nations languages development.

Crystal Richardson University of California, Davis [email protected]; [email protected] Crystal Richardson is a member of the Karuk tribe and a PhD student at the University of California in Davis. T̕łat̕łaḵułwa̱ł Patricia Rosborough (Kwagu’ł) † University of Victoria Dr. Rosborough, from the Kwakiutl First Nation, was an Associate Professor in UVic’s Department of Indigenous Education and the former Director of Aboriginal Education for the BC Ministry of Education. Trish was passionate about working in community and bringing Indigenous language revitalization methods and models to the communities where the language lives. An adult learner of her late mother’s first language, Kwak’wala, Trish often used a narrative approach to her research, sharing stories of her personal journey as a language learner, teacher and researcher.

Nicole Rosen University of Manitoba [email protected] Nicole Rosen is a Professor and Tier II Canada Research Chair in Language Interactions in the Department of Linguistics at the University of Manitoba, Canada. A settler linguist whose roots are in Winnipeg, her research interests focus primarily on effects of language contact and interaction. She is particularly interested in the sociolinguistic situation on the Canadian Prairies. Her doctoral thesis (2007) was a phonological study of Michif, and she more recently co-published a volume on Michif DP structure (2015). She has been working on projects with heritage Michif and Michif French speakers since 2000.



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Daisy Rosenblum University of British Columbia [email protected] Daisy Rosenblum is an Assistant Professor of Language Documentation, Conservation, and Revitalization in the Institute for Critical Indigenous Studies, and Anthropology, at the University of British Columbia, on unceded Musqueam territory. She focuses on the multi-modal documentation and description of spoken language, with an emphasis on methods, partnerships, and products that contribute to community-based reclamation and sovereignty. She co-leads UBC CEDaRspace for Community-Engaged Documentation and Research and the Relational Technologies research cluster at UBC, and has worked closely with community partners in Kwakwa̱ka̱’wakw territory since 2008 to document, interpret, and share knowledges of place in multiple dialects of Bak̕wa̱mk̕ala (Kwak’wala). 

Olivia N. Sammons First Nations University of Canada [email protected] Olivia Sammons is a DLI-DEL fellow (2021–2022) and Assistant Professor in Indigenous Languages at the First Nations University of Canada. She received her doctorate in linguistics from the University of Alberta in 2019, where her dissertation focused on nominal classification in Michif, an Indigenous contact language spoken in Canada and the United States. Her work focuses on language documentation, language description, and language revitalization. She also has interests in language contact, lexicography, and second language acquisition. In collaboration with the Prairies to Woodlands Indigenous Language Revitalization Circle, she has recently been involved in the development of an online Michif language course for beginners, as well as a digital spoken dictionary of Michif. She is grateful to have had the opportunity to work with speakers of Sauk (Algonquian; Oklahoma) since 2007, and with speakers of Michif since 2009.

Clare S. Sandy Sonoma State University [email protected] Clare S. Sandy is a lecturer in linguistic anthropology at Sonoma State University. She received her PhD. in linguistics from University of California, Berkeley. She has worked with elder Karuk master speakers to conduct research and documentation, as well as to create pedagogical materials, and to translate, digitize, and otherwise make historical documentation accessible and useable. Her primary research interests are phonology and morphology, and her dissertation focused on the prosody of the Karuk language. She has also worked on the documentation and description of the Tupí-Guaraní language Omagua.

Leslie Saxon University of Victoria (retired) [email protected] Leslie Saxon is Professor Emeritus of Linguistics at the University of Victoria. She has lived in communities across Canada from British Columbia to Newfoundland and the Northwest Territories and earned degrees at the University of Toronto and the University of California, San Diego. She has research training particularly in syntax and comparative grammar. She is grateful to mentors and fellow researchers in the Tłı̨ chǫ

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Nation for collaborations leading to lexicographic and editing projects. Fruitful collaborations with colleagues and students at the University of Victoria and in the Canadian Linguistic Association focussed her teaching, mentoring, and administrative work on syntax and Indigenous language revitalization.

David Leedom Shaul University of Colorado Boulder [email protected] Dave Shaul is an Adjunct Associate Professor at the University of Colorado in Boulder. He got his Ph.D. at Berkeley in Linguistics and Anthropology. He is a recognized expert in Uto-Aztecan languages (he speaks two of them). His recent work has focused on the deep prehistory of the American Southwest, northern Mexico, as well as central and southern California. He has written recent definitive books on Uto-Aztecan (2014), Esselen (2019), Salinan (2020a), and Tanoan (2020b), as well as a huge anthology of Uto-Aztecan literatures (2020c). His work at CSO explores the deep prehistory of the California coast (Bay Area to the tip of Baja), in particular the Hokan hypothesis and the Pacific Rim Linguistic Area hypothesis.

Justin Spence University of California, Davis [email protected] Justin Spence is Associate Professor of Native American Studies at the University of California, Davis. His research on Native American languages draws on data from archival sources and original fieldwork with contemporary speakers. He has published studies exploring historical relationships among the Dene (Athabaskan) languages of California and Oregon, with respect to one another and to the rest of the Dene language family, as well as more recent diachronic developments such as dialect variation and changes attributable to language contact. He is also involved with language reclamation efforts, seeking creative ways to bridge the gap between academic research and the needs of contemporary communities, especially through the development of web-based tools such as dictionaries and text corpora.

Ashleigh Surma University of Hawai’i at Mānoa [email protected] Ashleigh Surma received her PhD in Linguistics from the University of Hawai’i at Mānoa in 2022 and her Bachelor of Science in American Indian Studies from Black Hills State University in 2014. Her doctoral dissertation focused on relational reciprocity and building equitable, respectful, and mutually beneficial relationships between outsider linguists and Indigenous communities in language work in Canada. She is a non-Indigenous documentary linguist dedicated to the revitalization and reclamation of Indigenous languages and is grateful to have had the opportunity to work with speakers of Dene, Siouan, and Algonquian languages in the United States and Canada. She continues her work with Indigenous languages from across North America as a senior linguist at The Language Conservancy in Bloomington, Indiana.



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Logan Sutton Indiana University [email protected]; [email protected] Logan Sutton received his PhD in 2014 from the University of New Mexico. His dissertation was a synchronic and diachronic study of Kiowa-Tanoan. He is currently a Language Material Developer for the Mandan Hidatsa and Arikara Nation Culture and Language Department and a Research Associate for the American Indian Studies Research Institute (AISRI) at Indiana University, Bloomington.

Valerie (Lamxayat) Switzler Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs, Oregon [email protected] Valerie (Lamxayat) Switzler has served as the Culture and Heritage Manager at the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs, Oregon since 2010 and has also served as the acting General Manager of Education. She earned a master’s degree in Indigenous Nations Studies in 2012 from the University of Kansas, where she studied language documentation, and was a student in the American Indian Language Development Institute (AILDI).

Sarah Thomason University of Michigan [email protected] Sarah Thomason is the Bernard Bloch Distinguished University Professor emerita at the University of Michigan. She is a historical linguist who specializes in language contact, and she also has a strong interest in the documentation of Native North American languages. She has worked with elders through the SelišQ’lispe Culture Committee every summer since 1981 to document the Seliš-Q’lispe (Montana Salish) language. Among her publications are Language Contact, Creolization, and Genetic Linguistics (with Terrence Kaufman; Univ. of California Press, 1988, 1991), Language Contact: An Introduction (Edinburgh Univ. Press, 2001), Endangered Languages: An Introduction (Cambridge Univ. Press, 2015), ‘Chinook Jargon in areal and historical context’ (Language, 1983), and ‘The Pacific Northwest linguistic area: historical perspectives’ (Routledge Handbook of Historical Linguistics, 2015).

Tim Thornes Boise State University [email protected] Tim Thornes is Professor of Linguistics at Boise State University, where he teaches a range of courses focusing on language documentation, typology, morpho-syntax, and Native North American languages. He has published widely on features of Northern Paiute, a language indigenous to the northern Great Basin of the western U.S. and has worked extensively with several Northern Paiute communities to build in-house capacity for language reclamation efforts. He is particularly interested in contributing to the development of a unified text corpus of extant and archived materials to apply both to support language revitalization and to develop a better understanding of the evolution of grammar.

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Christina L. Truong University of Hawai’i at Mānoa [email protected] Christina L. Truong is a doctoral student in Linguistics at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa. She specializes in documentary linguistics, and is especially interested in language typology, verbal constructions, and digital language resources. She has been fortunate to work on the Alaska Native Place Names project and organizing committees for the 6th and 7th meetings of the International Conference on Language Documentation & Conservation. She has also worked with speakers from several communities in Indonesia and Malaysia to produce audio and video documentation of their languages and has taught courses on the languages of the Pacific at the University of Hawaiʻi. Her doctoral research is focused on applicatives in western Indonesian languages.

Siri G. Tuttle Navajo Technical University [email protected] Siri G. Tuttle is a Dene (Athabascan) languages specialist with particular interests in prosody--tone, stress and intonation. She retired as Director from the Alaska Native Language Center at the University of Alaska Fairbanks in 2021, after eighteen years of study and service to the Tanana and Ahtna communities from that institution. While field work with living speakers is her preferred method of learning about languages, she has also worked with archival data in a number of projects and served as Director of the Alaska Native Language Archive. Her 1998 University of Washington dissertation concerns the prosody of the Lower and Middle Tanana Dene languages of Alaska. She has also worked with the Pacific Coast Dene languages Tolowa and Galice, and both Western and Eastern Apache.

Hiroto Uchihara Tokyo University of Foreign Studies & Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México [email protected] Hiroto Uchihara works on tonal languages of North America, particularly Cherokee/ᏣᎳᎩ (Iroquoian), Zapotec/Dixsa:, Tlapanec/Mè’phàà, and Mixtec/Tù’un Sàví (Otomanguean). His main interests are phonology, morphology, and morphosyntax of these languages, both from synchronic and diachronic, and from descriptive/typological and theoretical perspectives.

Su Urbanczyk University of Victoria [email protected] Su Urbanczyk is an Associate Professor of Linguistics at the University of Victoria, where she received both a BSc and an MA in Linguistics. After completing her PhD at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, she held a post-doctoral research position at the University of British Columbia. During these years she studied sound patterns and some word-formation processes in the Salish languages Ayajuthem (Mainland Comox), St’at’imcets (Lillooet), Halkomelem and the Wakashan language Nuu-chah-nulth. She is interested in and dedicated to studying Salish and Wakashan languages and has worked in a few communities on various language revitalization projects in addition to documenting and understanding the organization of sound



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systems and word structures. Su’s theoretical research aims to understand the principles that underlie the production and patterning of sounds and words in languages, which can inform documentation and the development of materials for learning and teaching languages.

Elly van Gelderen Arizona State University [email protected] Elly van Gelderen is a syntactician interested in language change. Her work shows how regular syntactic change (grammaticalization and the linguistic cycle) provides insight in the Faculty of Language. Her 2011 book, The Linguistic Cycle: Language Change and the Language Faculty (Oxford University Press) shows how cyclical change can be accounted for through an economy principle. Her Clause Structure (Cambridge University Press, 2013) examines a number of current debates in theoretical syntax. The history of argument structure, e.g. how unaccusatives and unergatives change in very different directions, is explored in The Diachrony of Meaning (Routledge 2018). Related interests are the evolution of language, biolinguistics, prescriptivism, authorship debates, and code switching. Her most recent book is Third Factors in Language Variation and Change (CUP, 2022) and her The Linguistic Cycle: Economy and Renewal in Historical Linguistics is forthcoming (Routledge).

Honoré Watanabe ILCAA, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies [email protected] Honoré Watanabe is a linguist at the Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa (ILCAA), Tokyo University of Foreign Studies. He has been conducting research on the Tla’amin (Sliammon)/ Homalco/Klahoose, which is one of the Coast Salish languages, since 1990 and received his doctoral degree from Kyoto University in 2000. His interests include morphology, typology, language description/documentation, Native American languages, particularly the Salishan languages.

Anthony K. Webster University of Texas at Austin [email protected] Anthony K. Webster is a Professor of Linguistic Anthropology at the University of Texas at Austin. His work has focused primarily on Navajo/Diné poetics, language, culture, and the individual. He has been fortunate to work over the years with a number of Navajo/Diné poets since his initial ethnographic and linguistic fieldwork in 2000. He is the author of three books, Explorations in Navajo Poetry and Poetics (UNM Press, 2009), Intimate Grammars: An Ethnography of Navajo Poetry (University of Arizona Press, 2015), The Sounds of Navajo Poetry: A Humanities of Speaking (Peter Lang, 2018), and has edited, with Paul V. Kroskrity, The Legacy of Dell Hymes: Ethnopoetics, Narrative Inequality, and Voice (Indiana UP, 2015), and, most recently, with Esther G. Belin, Jeff Berglund, and Connie Jacobs, The Diné Reader: An Anthology of Navajo Literature (University of Arizona Press, 2021).

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Andrea Wilhelm University of Victoria [email protected] Andrea Wilhelm has spent most of her adult life as a settler in Western Canada. She began learning about Dene languages from E.-D. Cook and the late Mary-Jane Kasyon during her Master’s program, and wrote about aspect in Dënesųłiné and German for her Ph.D., both at the University of Calgary. She is an Adjunct Professor in Linguistics at the University of Victoria and the University of Alberta and focuses on language documentation, description and revitalization. A special interest of hers is how meaning is organized in Dene languages. She has published on aspect, countability and nominal modification and wrote the Oxford Annotated Bibliography on language revitalization. Her abiding commitment to decolonization and research ethics resulted in the creation of a research protocol in collaboration with a Dënesųłiné community. She is currently pursuing a Master’s degree in Theology.

Lorna Wanosts’7 Williams University of Victoria [email protected] Dr. Lorna Wanosts’a7 Williams, Lil’wat of the St’at’yem’c First Nation, is the chair of First Peoples Culture Council. She earned her Doctorate in Education from the University of Tennessee and is a Professor Emerita of the University of Victoria, where she served as the Canada Research Chair in Indigenous Knowledge and Learning, was the inaugural director of Indigenous Education, and led the development of the degree programs Indigenous Language Revitalization and Counseling in Indigenous Communities. Her work led to the requirement that all teacher education programs in British Columbia include an Indigenous Education Course. She worked as an Indigenous educator and language specialist for more than 50 years in diverse settings, including Indigenous communities, public schools, and adult education settings. She has co-directed a series of videos called First Nations: The Circle Unbroken and has written children’s books, teachers’ guides and developed Lil’wat language curriculum to teach people to read and write the Lil’wat language. Dr. Williams is the recipient of a 2018 Indspire Award, was appointed to the Order of Canada in 2020, and is a 2021 Pierre Elliot Trudeau Fellow.

Alan Chi Lun Yu University of Chicago [email protected] Alan C. L. Yu is the William Colvin Professor of Linguistics at the University of Chicago and the director of the UChicago Phonology Laboratory. He has worked with the Wa:šiw (Washo) community since 2004 to document their language and to assist in their revitalization efforts. He is primarily interested in questions related to language variation and change, especially from the point of view of individual differences. He is the author of A Natural History of Infixation (2007, OUP), the editor of Origins of Sound Change: Approaches to Phonologization (2013, OUP) and co-editor of The Handbook of Phonological Theory, 2nd Edition (2011, Wiley Blackwell).



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Raoul Zamponi Independent Scholar [email protected] Raoul Zamponi works primarily on little-known, extinct indigenous languages of the Americas and is currently working on a project for the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Leipzig. He has previously held positions at the University of Siena and as Principal Investigator on a range of linguistic projects in Italy, Germany, and the USA.

Henry B. Zenk Tribal linguistic consultant [email protected] Henry Zenk received his Ph.D. in Anthropology from the University of Oregon in 1984. His dissertation was based on original field research with some of Oregon's last fluent speakers of Chinuk Wawa (Chinook Jargon), all elders of the Grand Ronde Indian Community. Since 1998 he has been working as a linguistic consultant with the Chinuk Wawa language program of the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde. Besides contributing to a variety of scholarly series and symposia over the years, he compiled and edited Chinuk Wawa kakwa nsayka ulman-tilixam ɬaska munk-kəmtəks nsayka/Chinuk Wawa as our elders teach us to speak it, a new Chinuk Wawa dictionary published (2012) by the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde, Oregon.

Fernando Zúñiga University of Bern [email protected] Fernando Zúñiga is professor of General Linguistics in the University of Bern, Switzerland. His primary research focus is on the qualitative typology of voice and alignment, as well as on wordhood. His descriptive and analytical work has focused on Mapudungun, an indigenous language of South America, as well as on Blackfoot, an Algonquian language of North America. His latest book, Grammatical Voice (Cambridge University Press, 2019), co-authored with Seppo Kittilä, is a functional-typological introduction to the topic, its synchronic diversity, and its diachrony. He has recently co-edited an article collection on non-canonical applicatives with Sara Pacchiarotti for Mouton and is currently co-editing a cross-linguistic survey of applicatives with Denis Creissels, also to appear at Mouton deGruyter.

Index of languages Note: Alternate names can be found in language list published in Volume 1 Achumawi 254n11, 639, 1247, 1250, 1251, 1255, 1256, 1257, 1260, 1261, 1262, 1263, 1268 Acoma 277, 747, 748, 765 Adai 1407, 1632, 1635 Ahousaht dialect 53 Ahtna 95, 163, 166, 278, 428n4, 549, 549, 550, 553, 558, 564, 566, 657, 883, 889, 893, 900–901, 902 Akokisa 1627, 1628, 1628, 1633 Alabama 113, 114, 216, 276, 285, 286, 586, 1577, 1577, 1578, 1579, 1582, 1595, 1596, 1638 Aleut 18, 27, 30, 140–141, 276, 278, 290, 295, 428n4, 649, 654, 660, 661, 843, 844, 846 Algic languages 118, 158, 210, 212, 217, 222, 225–226, 229, 517, 556, 663, 680, 931, 931, 932, 1169, 1172, 1247, 1250, 1252, 1263, 1270, 1629 Algonkian languages. See Algonquian languages Algonquian languages 31, 41, 49n3, 51, 64, 81, 86, 97, 125, 189, 194, 195, 198, 199, 212, 221, 225–226, 234, 237, 248n3, 262n15, 270, 273, 276, 290–291, 294, 296, 317, 352, 356, 359, 360, 361, 372, 377, 423, 424n3, 439, 529, 532, 533, 577, 588, 609, 639, 640, 655, 663, 672, 673, 677, 680, 697, 704, 705, 709, 752, 753, 765, 794, 795, 931–946, 932, 953, 963, 964, 966, 970, 971, 982, 983, 1058, 1252, 1263–1264, 1447, 1560, 1629–1632 Algonquin languages 309, 502, 503, 748, 753, 755, 756, 756, 765, 931 Algonquin-Wakashan 1058 Almosan-Keresiouan stock 1408 Almosan languages 673 Alsea 639, 640, 1056 Alutiiq 846, 847n4 Alutiiq Alaskan Yupik 843, 844 Amerind 673, 674 Amotomanco 1627, 1628, 1628, 1640, 1641, 1643 Andaste. See Susquehannock Anishininimowin 745, 748, 750, 752, 753, 754, 755, 756, 756, 765 Apache. See Apachean language Apachean language 27, 656 Apalachee 1577, 1577, 1580n5, 1596, 1636, 1637 Apalachee-Spanish language 651, 660 Aranama 1627, 1628, 1628, 1640, 1641–1642, 1642 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-063

Arapaho 64, 186, 207, 378, 428n4, 436–438, 607, 608, 609, 640, 776, 933, 934 Arikara 1407, 1408, 1409, 1410, 1411, 1411, 1412, 1413, 1415, 1416, 1418, 1420, 1421, 1422, 1422, 1423, 1424, 1425, 1426, 1427, 1429, 1433, 1435, 1436, 1438, 1439, 1440, 1441, 1453, 1454n6 Arikara-Pawnee 1407, 1413, 1429, 1434, 1437, 1438, 1439 Arizona Tewa 274, 275, 386, 389, 400, 406, 650, 655, 1361, 1362, 1364, 1365, 1366, 1367, 1368, 1370, 1385 Asiatic Eskimo 297 Assiniboine. See Nakota Atakapa 663, 673, 1632, 1635 Athabaskan languages 49, 51, 64, 72, 73, 75, 76, 77, 79, 80, 186, 189, 194, 196, 197, 199, 328, 332, 337, 387, 396, 404, 440, 503, 520, 534, 537, 538, 548, 602, 603, 604, 650, 656, 657, 663, 690, 691, 875–919 Atikamekw 799 Ati Piman 1334, 1339 Atsina. See Gros Ventre Atsugewi 639, 663, 1247, 1250, 1251, 1254, 1256, 1260, 1261, 1262, 1263 ʔayʔaǰuθəm 588, 591, 592, 1054 Aztec-Tanoan 672 Baffin Inuktitut 197, 581, 853, 854, 862, 863 Bannock 959, 1333 Bantu languages 65 Barbareño Chumash 582n7, 582n8, 1284 Bay Miwok 1251 Bayogoula 1627, 1628, 1628, 1632, 1633 Bearlake 337 Bella Coola 271, 1013, 1054, 1055, 1056, 1060, 1062, 1063, 1064, 1065, 1066, 1069, 1075, 1076, 1077, 1078, 1080, 1082, 1083, 1086, 1088, 1089, 1090, 1092, 1093, 1101, 1101–1102, 1104 Bidai 1627, 1628, 1628, 1632, 1634–1635, 1635 Biloxi 372, 654, 663, 1449, 1460–1461, 1465, 1479, 1484, 1488n30, 1510, 1546, 1552, 1554 Bitterroot Salish 648, 651 Blackfeet. See Blackfoot Blackfoot 31, 31, 41, 46, 47, 47, 49, 51, 58, 188, 189, 190, 194, 195, 329, 330, 356, 428n4, 465, 482,

1674 

 Index of languages

533, 556, 556, 558, 579, 586, 588, 589, 592, 709, 800, 932, 933, 934, 937 Caddo 90–91, 92, 352, 603, 1407, 1408, 1409, 1410, 1411, 1411, 1412, 1413, 1414, 1415, 1416, 1418, 1419, 1421, 1422, 1422, 1423, 1425, 1426, 1427, 1428, 1430, 1431, 1432, 1434, 1441, 1635 Caddoan languages 92, 197, 603, 639, 640, 672, 673, 1407–1442, 1447, 1450, 1453, 1632 Cahita 1334 Cahto. See Kato Cahuilla 143, 144, 234, 272, 274, 288, 768, 1334, 1336, 1337, 1340, 1341, 1342, 1343, 1350–1351, 1353–1354 Calusa 1627, 1628, 1628, 1635–1637 Cantonese 51 Carrier 75, 77, 464, 880, 1014 Cascades 1116 Catawba 1449, 1462, 1479, 1483n26, 1632, 1637, 1639, 1640 Cayuga 148–149, 185, 227, 228, 234, 308, 313, 315, 1601, 1602, 1603, 1603–1604, 1606–1620, 1622, 1623 Cayuse 670, 1143, 1249 Cayuse-Molala family 670 Central Alaskan Yup’ik 90, 92, 119, 120, 143, 144, 145, 147, 148, 228–229, 230–231, 237, 357, 533, 607, 633, 654, 843, 844, 846, 847, 849, 850, 851, 853, 855, 867, 867, 869 Central Pomo 214, 216, 277, 278, 368, 375, 422, 423, 423, 498, 499, 503, 508, 587, 641–642, 1226, 1227, 1228n3, 1237, 1239, 1240 Central Salish language 21, 29, 44, 438 Central Siberian Yupik 148, 843, 844, 847 Chalon 1251 Chemakum 656 Chemehuevi 97, 370–371, 1306, 1333 Cherokee 31, 63, 64, 66, 68, 68–73, 71, 75–81, 215, 224–225, 229, 248–249, 326, 327, 333, 345–347, 348, 349, 351, 352, 354, 357, 463, 501, 508, 560, 637, 644, 708, 715, 1601, 1603, 1606, 1608, 1611, 1611, 1612, 1613, 1616, 1621, 1622 Cheyenne 64, 502, 508, 591, 592, 932, 933, 934, 935, 937 Chickasaw 17, 18, 27, 90–91, 98, 145, 150, 167–168, 365, 374, 660, 768, 778, 1552, 1577, 1577, 1578, 1579, 1579, 1581, 1582, 1586, 1594, 1595, 1596, 1638 Chico Maidu 1251

Chikashshanompa’ 768 Chilcotin 640 Chimakuan languages 80, 92 Chimariko 142, 328, 340, 639, 663, 693, 1171, 1248, 1250, 1251, 1252, 1254, 1256, 1258, 1259, 1260, 1261, 1262, 1263, 1264, 1265, 1266 Chinook 218, 272, 316, 459, 658, 1116, 1116, 1117, 1118n5, 1120n7, 1127, 1130, 1131n25, 1135 Chinookan languages 218, 232, 395, 399, 459, 470, 639, 640, 647, 650, 662, 1056, 1115–1136 Chinook Jargon 628, 647, 650, 654–655, 658, 986, 1084, 1117n3 Chinook Proper 1117n3 Chinuk Wawa 406, 1117, 1118n5, 1120n7, 1134–1135, 1136 Chipewyan 76, 80, 90, 103, 270, 272, 697, 876n1 Chippewa. See Nishnaabemwin Chiricahua Apache 396, 400 Chitimacha 208, 209, 210, 212, 214, 215, 219, 221, 224, 227, 229, 230, 276, 663, 673, 1519–1539, 1554, 1557, 1632 Chiwere 1459–1460, 1463n17, 1468, 1470, 1474, 1492 Choctaw 216, 247n1, 248, 249, 255–256, 261, 263, 351, 369, 373, 374, 406, 462, 513, 522, 558, 650, 660, 1552, 1554, 1557, 1567, 1570, 1577, 1577, 1577–1591, 1578, 1579, 1581, 1582, 1583, 1584, 1585, 1586, 1589, 1590, 1594, 1595, 1596, 1634, 1637, 1638 Chumashan languages 100, 577, 1250, 1263, 1267, 1275–1301, 1346, 1347 Clackamas 648, 1116 Clallam 656 Classical Nahuatl 235, 1336, 1337–1338, 1341, 1343, 1641 Clatsop 1116, 1116 Coahuilteco 1635, 1640, 1642, 1643, 1643 Coast Miwok 1231, 1251 Coast Salish 48, 49, 50, 54 Coast Tsimshian language 80, 92, 93, 985, 986, 990, 991, 993, 995, 1001 Cocopa languages 746, 748, 752, 753, 766, 1303, 1304, 1305, 1308, 1309, 1311, 1321, 1327 Coeur d’Alene 93, 1055, 1057, 1058, 1060, 1062, 1063, 1065, 1073, 1076, 1080, 1083, 1084, 1086, 1088, 1093, 1103 Columbian languages 1054, 1055, 1060, 1062, 1064, 1066, 1067, 1072, 1077, 1078, 1084 Colville-Okanagan 654, 1055, 1057, 1060



Comanche 186, 272, 274, 372, 640, 746, 747, 748, 750, 752, 752, 753, 755, 756, 756, 766, 1333, 1363, 1640 Comecrudo 1642, 1643, 1643 Comox 250, 255, 275, 1054 Comox-Sliammon 54, 523, 588, 1054 Conestoga. See Susquehannock Congaree 1627, 1628, 1632, 1637 Coos. See Coosan Coosan 226, 309 Copper Island Aleut. See Mednyj Aleut Cora(n), 1334, 1338 Cotoname 1640, 1642 Cowlit 1055, 1060, 1065, 1069, 1073, 1076, 1078, 1079n18, 1090, 1091n26, 1100, 1104 Cree 27, 97, 116, 149, 193, 276, 317, 359–360, 387, 424, 424, 425, 462, 488, 488, 504, 514, 532, 586, 587, 651, 660, 697, 721, 742, 745, 746, 747, 748, 749, 750, 751, 752, 752, 753–754, 755, 756, 757, 765, 776, 867, 933, 934, 935, 937, 938, 939, 940–941, 943, 951, 952, 953, 956, 960, 964, 965, 966, 970, 982, 983 Creek 28, 169, 193, 208, 220, 223, 326, 327, 330, 375, 376, 463, 581, 694–695, 696, 775, 1251, 1577, 1577, 1632n8, 1634, 1638 Crow 64, 78, 79, 295–296, 331–332, 335, 338, 359, 365, 367, 369, 372, 462, 640, 1363, 1452–1453, 1465, 1465, 1471, 1484, 1495, 1498–1499, 1500, 1504–1505 Cruzeño 1275, 1276, 1278, 1287, 1287, 1288, 1288–1289, 1290, 1291, 1291, 1293, 1296 Cupan languages 656, 1333, 1334, 1336, 1340, 1341, 1351, 1352 Cupeño 123, 211, 251, 252, 272, 274, 339, 340, 1334, 1336, 1342 Cup’ik 186, 187, 187, 388 Cusabo 1627, 1628, 1628, 1632, 1637–1638, 1639 Dakelh 75, 77, 883, 1014 Dakota 110, 122, 142, 639, 752, 753, 753, 754, 755, 756, 756, 766, 793, 1449, 1454–1458, 1468, 1475, 1476, 1478, 1482, 1497, 1498, 1501, 1502, 1503, 1507, 1510 Dakotan languages 1454, 1462, 1467, 1468, 1469, 1474, 1477, 1478, 1498 Dän k’è 80 Deg Xinag 101, 562 Delaware 647, 651, 658, 660, 697, 932, 933, 934, 936, 941–942

Index of languages 

 1675

Delta-California languages 1304, 1307, 1308 Dena’ina 163, 166, 167, 167, 883, 889, 890, 900 Dene-Dinjii languages 880 Dëne languages 17, 18, 25, 35, 44, 53, 56, 64, 72, 73, 75, 76, 77, 79, 80, 157, 159, 163, 166, 169, 175–176, 212, 284, 285, 286, 288, 290, 293, 294, 295, 297, 301, 404, 440, 460, 461, 464, 465, 467, 472, 473, 534, 537, 538, 548–550, 554, 558, 561–562, 564, 565, 566, 602, 603, 604, 622, 623, 640, 690, 691, 694, 703, 706, 709, 875–919, 952, 986, 1169 Dëne Suliné 53, 53, 56, 56, 57, 57, 90, 90, 91, 91, 92, 103, 219, 270, 286, 288, 461, 466, 468, 469, 472, 473, 583, 585, 697, 706, 715, 748, 751, 752, 752, 765, 877, 880, 883, 893, 903, 904 Dene-Yeniseian hypothesis 681, 682 Dhegiha 64 Dhegihan languages 1477, 1485n27, 1487 Diegueño 96, 271, 272, 273, 274, 277, 339, 656, 1304, 1349 diitiid?aa?tx 1013, 1015, 1019, 1030, 1031, 1042, 1043, 1045 Diné bizaad 72–75, 73, 74–75, 80, 92, 163, 601, 703, 706, 708, 715, 775, 876, 878, 880, 882, 882–883, 884, 885, 887, 890, 891, 896, 898, 900, 903, 903, 904, 908, 909, 911, 915, 916, 917–918 Ditidaht 662, 723, 1013 Dogrib 76, 80, 214, 709, 905, 912, 913 East Cree 317, 514, 742, 745, 746, 747, 748, 749, 750–751, 752, 752, 753, 753–754, 755, 756, 757, 765, 933, 937 Eastern Abenaki 932 Eastern Pomo 298–299, 300, 389, 390, 641, 656, 1224, 1226, 1229, 1233, 1235, 1237, 1239, 1240, 1241, 1243 Erie 1601 Eskimo-Aleut languages 18, 30, 90, 119, 140, 143, 267, 273, 276, 370, 378, 512, 577, 580, 581, 607, 613, 633–636, 650, 672, 673, 765, 843 Esselen 1247, 1248, 1250, 1251, 1252, 1254, 1255, 1256, 1263, 1266, 1267, 1346, 1347 Euchee. See Yuchi languages Eudeve 1334, 1338, 1339, 1344 Eurasiatic languages 622, 650, 652, 656, 673, 794, 880n4 Eurasiatic stock 673 Eyak language 650, 652, 656, 794, 880n4

1676 

 Index of languages

Flathead. See Bitterroot Salish; Kalispel Fort Ware Sekani 142–143 Fox 97, 118, 125 Gitksan language 18, 233, 497, 498–499, 503, 506–508, 579, 588, 589, 591, 592, 604, 985, 986, 989, 990, 991, 992, 993, 994–995, 996, 997n6, 999–1000, 1001, 1005, 1006 Greenlandic language 216, 224, 378, 379, 757–758, 765, 843, 844, 845, 851, 852, 853, 855, 860, 868, 870 Gros Ventre 707, 932, 937 Guale 1627, 1628, 1628, 1632, 1637, 1638–1639 Guarijio 1334 Gwich’in 159, 571, 572, 650, 878, 883, 891, 897, 918 Haida 64, 75, 81, 82, 311, 312, 313, 349, 356, 370, 391, 514, 535–536, 537, 538, 571, 650, 656, 673, 765 Halkomelem 64, 80, 128–129, 131, 260, 263, 271, 356, 468, 533, 582, 588, 591, 1054, 1057, 1061, 1064, 1067, 1072, 1077, 1086, 1093, 1094, 1099, 1104 Halq’eméylem 48, 51, 64, 80 Hän 51, 159, 169 Hare 72, 78, 270, 272, 297, 604, 899 Havasupai 391, 402, 402, 1303, 1304, 1305, 1308, 1312, 1318, 1327 Heiltsuk 64, 75, 78, 80, 81, 271, 1013, 1047 Hidatsa 324, 555, 555, 748, 766, 1408, 1449, 1454, 1464, 1464, 1467, 1468, 1470, 1471, 1484, 1487, 1495, 1498, 1499, 1500, 1509 Hílzaqv 797 Hílzaqvla 1013–1014, 1015, 1023, 1033, 1042, 1043, 1044, 1047 Hinono’eitiit 776 Hitchiti 639, 1577, 1577, 1596 Hocak 262–263, 1449, 1470, 1471, 1478, 1485, 1486, 1487, 1509 Ho-Chunk. See Hocak Hokan 550, 663, 672, 673, 674, 680, 681, 1171, 1201, 1224, 1238, 1247, 1248, 1249, 1250, 1251, 1252, 1256, 1257, 1261, 1270 Hokan-Siouan languages 672, 1408, 1449 Hoopa. See Hupa Hopi 64, 80, 81, 97, 141, 227, 272, 274, 279, 280, 377, 387, 388, 389, 390, 393, 400, 404, 459, 491, 552, 619–621, 622, 624, 650, 655, 752, 753, 756, 766, 1306, 1333, 1334, 1335, 1336,

1337, 1338, 1339, 1340, 1341, 1343, 1344, 1348, 1349 Hualapai-Havasupai 1303, 1304 Huichol 1334 Hul’q’umi’num’ 3, 6, 23, 26, 26–27, 31, 44, 45, 49, 51, 58, 1013 Hupa 18, 53, 56, 98, 465, 466, 472, 663, 694, 695–696, 697, 715, 720, 880, 882, 883, 884, 886, 889, 903, 1169, 1170, 1172, 1192, 1194 Huron. See Wendat language Ichishkiin. See Sahaptin ’Iipay 703, 704, 1303, 1304, 1305, 1306, 1307, 1308, 1310, 1311, 1315, 1320, 1323, 1325, 1327 Innu 290, 290, 291, 293, 297, 299, 300, 558, 559, 661, 704, 745, 755, 765, 932, 933, 934, 936, 937 Inuinnaqtun 253n8, 843, 845, 845, 846, 846, 848, 854, 855, 856, 865, 869 Inuit 43, 316, 522, 552, 561, 562, 564, 647, 650, 651, 658, 742, 756, 758, 765, 843–870, 844 Inuit-Yupik-Unangan 633–636, 843–870 Inuktitut 196, 197, 301, 580, 581, 613, 742, 745–751, 753, 755, 756, 757–758, 765, 843, 845, 845, 846, 846, 847, 849, 852, 853, 854, 855, 856, 857, 858, 859, 860, 862, 863, 864, 864, 868 Inupiaq 547, 561, 563, 571, 843, 845, 846, 852, 867, 869 Inuvialuktun 845, 846 Iroquoian languages 41, 64, 78, 80, 81, 90, 91, 92, 140, 148–149, 185, 186, 189, 196, 197, 199, 212, 215, 217, 218, 222, 223, 225, 227, 228, 234, 267, 269, 287, 290, 294, 308, 309, 326, 327, 372, 463, 465, 488, 501, 551, 560, 577, 580, 588, 613, 637, 639, 644, 653, 663, 672, 673, 765, 797, 811, 813, 815, 1408, 1447, 1450, 1560, 1601–1623, 1629, 1630, 1631, 1631, 1632 Iroquoian (Northern) languages 64, 78, 80, 81, 148–149, 218, 637, 815, 1601, 1602, 1603, 1604–1605, 1606, 1608, 1609, 1612, 1616, 1629, 1630, 1631, 1631 Iroquoian (Southern) languages 637, 1601, 1602, 1603 Isolate 81, 143, 291, 292, 365, 513, 514, 765, 1247–1271, 1251 Jamul Tiipay 250, 251, 270–271, 271, 328, 329, 375, 1303, 1304, 1305, 1315, 1323, 1327 Jova 1333, 1334



Kalaallisut 305, 309, 312, 315, 316, 580, 592, 843, 845, 860 Kalapuyan languages 662 Kalispel 271, 275, 405, 1055, 1057, 1058, 1070, 1104 Kanien’kéha’ 78, 1601 Kansa 372, 640, 653, 1458, 1459n13, 1477, 1484, 1485 Kanyen’kéha 613 Karankawa 1634n10, 1635, 1635, 1640, 1642 Karkin 1251 Karok. See Karuk Karuk 101, 102, 396–397, 550, 550, 553, 554, 663, 720, 1169–1196, 1248, 1250, 1252, 1263, 1265 Kashaya 99 Kashaya Pomo 98, 142, 641 K’ashógot’i̜ ne Xədə́, 72, 78, 898, 899, 907, 908, 911 Kaska 709, 877, 880, 883, 900, 903, 911, 918 Kathlamet 1116, 1116, 1118n5, 1120n7, 1127, 1131n25, 1132n27, 1133n28 Kato 663 Kaw. See Kansa Kawaiisu 18, 428, 431–433, 639, 1333 Keres 80, 513 Keresan languages 674, 765, 1363n4 Keresiouan language 674, 1408 Kickapoo 64, 81, 439, 932, 933 Kiksht 1115–1136, 1160 Kiliwa 1303, 1304, 1305, 1307, 1308, 1311, 1314, 1317, 1324, 1327 Kiowa 72, 75, 79, 95, 162, 175, 216, 272, 314–315, 355, 363, 365–367, 370, 370, 372, 391, 461, 514, 515, 639, 640, 1362, 1363, 1365, 1366, 1367, 1368, 1369, 1370–1372, 1373, 1373, 1374–1375, 1376, 1377, 1380, 1381, 1383, 1385, 1386, 1388, 1389, 1390, 1391, 1595 Kiowa-Tanoan languages 64, 72, 197, 216, 267, 270, 275, 363, 372, 389, 639, 640, 672, 1361–1391 Kitanemuk 1334 Kitsai 1407, 1408, 1409, 1410, 1411, 1411, 1414, 1415, 1419, 1420, 1422, 1424, 1434 Klallam 489, 625–630, 644, 1013, 1054, 1056, 1061, 1063, 1068, 1070, 1073, 1077, 1078, 1091, 1106 Klamath 99 Klamath-Modoc 663, 1249, 1250, 1251, 1252, 1254, 1255, 1256, 1257 Koasati 18, 46, 110, 119, 165, 166, 166, 250, 257–258, 263, 276, 292, 297, 299, 300, 395, 406, 464, 536–538, 557–558, 707, 793, 1552, 1554, 1559, 1577, 1577, 1578, 1579, 1580, 1581, 1582, 1582,

Index of languages 

 1677

1583, 1584, 1584, 1585, 1586, 1586, 1587, 1588, 1589, 1589, 1590, 1590, 1591, 1592, 1593, 1594, 1596, 1638 Konkow 1251 Konomihu 1169, 1171, 1251 Koyukon 301, 309, 315, 571, 587, 880, 883, 884, 886, 887, 887, 889, 891, 894–895, 897, 900, 901, 904, 908, 910, 911 Ktunaxa 143, 327, 330, 588, 591, 723 Kumeyaay 271, 271, 272, 389, 537, 703, 707, 1303, 1304, 1305, 1305, 1306, 1324, 1327, 1349 Kutenai 95, 143, 144, 232, 268, 317, 327, 347, 662, 752, 765, 1058 Kwak’wala 97, 115, 123, 195, 581–582, 584, 585, 611, 612, 630–633, 640, 644, 657, 720, 723, 776, 1020, 1023, 1032 Kw’alhy 1303, 1304, 1305 Kyuquot 271, 1023, 1032, 1032, 1033, 1034, 1035–1036, 1037, 1039, 1042 Laguna Keres 513 La Huerta 1303, 1304, 1305, 1312, 1321 Lake Miwok 642, 663, 1251, 1255, 1255, 1256 Lakhota. See Lakota Lakota 137, 137, 139, 142, 161, 162, 173, 175, 193, 194, 195, 216, 220, 272, 277, 285, 298, 298, 311, 356, 367, 368, 457, 465, 466, 467, 472, 474, 487, 490, 572, 558, 621–622, 624, 639, 1454–1458, 1463, 1464, 1465, 1467–1475, 1471, 1476, 1477, 1478, 1479, 1480, 1481, 1481, 1482, 1483, 1484, 1485–1498, 1486, 1500–1510 Laurentian language 959, 1601, 1604 Leggbo 56n7 Lekwungen language 20, 1054 Lenape 144, 647, 658, 660, 932 Lheidli 163 Lillooet 193, 232, 578, 610, 611, 627, 1054, 1055, 1060, 1061, 1062, 1063, 1065, 1067, 1068, 1071, 1072, 1076, 1077, 1078, 1080, 1081, 1086, 1092, 1093, 1097–1099 Lingít 64, 77, 80, 775 Lipan Apache 1640, 1643, 1643 Los Conejos 1, 303, 1304, 1305, 1311, 1315, 1316, 1322, 1324, 1327 Loup 932 Lower Chehalis 1055, 1073n16, 1076, 1078, 1090n25, 1095, 1100, 1134 Lower Chinook 1116, 1117, 1118n5, 1120n7, 1127, 1130, 1131n25

1678 

 Index of languages

Luiseño 214–215, 252, 254, 259, 259–260, 263, 274, 1336–1338, 1339, 1340, 1341, 1342, 1343, 1349, 1351–1355 Lushootseed 92 Macro-Algonquian languages 673 Macro-Siouan languages 673, 1449 Mahican 932 Maidu 215, 316, 396, 400, 781, 1251, 1254, 1263, 1268 Maiduan languages 316, 663, 1247, 1248, 1249, 1250, 1251, 1254, 1255, 1256, 1256, 1259, 1260, 1262, 1266, 1267, 1269, 1270, 1271 Mainland Comox 192n7, 250, 255 Makah 92, 213, 271, 405, 503, 656, 662, 1013, 1037 Malecite. See Maliseet Maliseet 465, 467, 931, 932, 933 Mandan 209, 277, 368, 659, 1454, 1463, 1464, 1464, 1468, 1470, 1494, 1500, 1504, 1509 Maricopa 268, 271, 273, 274, 277, 373, 501, 557, 558, 1303, 1304, 1305, 1307, 1309, 1312, 1313, 1314, 1321, 1322, 1323, 1327 Massachusett language 653, 932, 933, 934, 935 Mattole 663 Mayo 1334 Mednyj Aleut 647, 660, 661 Menominee 97, 210, 225, 226, 229, 360–361, 610, 705, 800, 932, 933, 934, 937–938 Mesa Grande ’Iipa 96, 96 Mesa Grande ’Iipay 1304 Meskwaki 310, 352–353, 355, 356, 357, 800, 932, 936, 939, 940 Miami-Illinois language 653, 657, 932, 933, 934, 935, 936 Michif 149, 424–425, 428, 433–435, 445, 462, 532–533, 647, 660, 661, 951–983 Micmac. See Mi’kmaq Mikasuki 639, 1554, 1577, 1577, 1578, 1579, 1582, 1594, 1596, 1638 Mi’kmaq 750, 765, 932, 933, 939–940 Minto Lower Tanana 881, 881, 889, 893, 897 Miwok 110, 124, 253n8, 316, 472, 639, 642, 663, 681, 1231, 1248, 1251, 1255, 1255, 1256, 1259–1260, 1267, 1268, 1347 mixed language 149, 532, 647, 648, 658–661, 951, 952, 953 Mobilian Jargon 647, 650, 658, 660, 696–697, 1577, 1578, 1596, 1634, 1635

Mohave 268, 273, 274, 279, 280, 339, 1303, 1304, 1305, 1306, 1307, 1308, 1310, 1311, 1312, 1319, 1321, 1324, 1327 Mohawk 2, 78, 140, 148–149, 160, 185, 222, 234, 269, 465, 469, 580, 588, 589, 592, 613, 637, 752, 753, 754, 756, 757, 758, 765, 776, 779, 1601, 1603, 1603, 1604, 1606, 1608, 1609, 1612, 1613, 1622, 1623 Mohegan-Pequot-Montauk languages 932 Mojave. See Mohave Molala. See Molalla Molalla 648, 654, 662 Mono 18, 272, 1333 Mono, Western 391 Mono Lake Northern Paiute 18 Montagnais 64, 73, 80, 81, 276, 661, 932 Montana Salish 18, 50, 57, 98, 648, 652, 654, 655, 656, 662, 1055 Moose Cree 276 Moses-Columbia language 163, 291, 1069, 1073 Mountain Maidu 1251, 1254 Munsee 697, 932, 941–942 Muskogean languages 17, 18, 28, 64, 90, 110, 113, 119, 145, 165, 169, 193, 208, 209, 216–217, 220, 223, 257, 268, 273, 276, 278, 285, 286, 288, 292, 297, 299, 300, 326, 330, 365, 369, 372, 375, 376, 462, 463, 464, 513, 522, 536, 557, 558, 577, 581, 586, 639, 650, 651, 654, 660, 663, 672, 673, 707, 1447, 1521, 1522, 1552, 1554, 1557, 1577–1596, 1632, 1633, 1634, 1637, 1638 Muskogee 28, 145, 707, 1577, 1577, 1578, 1578, 1579, 1579, 1580, 1581, 1582, 1582, 1583, 1584, 1584, 1585, 1586, 1586, 1587, 1588, 1589, 1590, 1590, 1591, 1592, 1593, 1594, 1595, 1596 Muskogee Creek 28, 1577 Musqueam 195, 198, 271, 288, 299, 1054, 1061, 1064, 1069, 1077, 1083, 1084, 1094, 1106 Mutsun 693, 694, 809, 1251, 1254, 1255, 1256, 1268, 1269, 1270, 1271 Mutsun-Awaswas 1251 Mvskoke 386 Myaamia 765, 809, 817, 818, 932, 933 Na-Dene languages 23, 90, 92, 94, 95, 100, 101, 138, 142, 214, 215, 219, 228, 309, 311, 312, 313, 316, 317, 327, 428, 521, 577, 579, 580, 581, 583, 585, 587, 588, 650, 673, 681, 682, 765 Nakota 285, 286, 287, 292, 1456, 1458, 1478, 1498, 1500



Nansemond 1627, 1628, 1628, 1629–1630, 1630, 1631 Nanticoke 932 Narragansett 932 Naskapi 276, 932, 933 Natchez 400, 405, 663, 673, 1526, 1545, 1546, 1570, 1632, 1633 Natick. See Massachusett language Naukanski Siberian Yupik 843, 844 Naukan(ski) Yupik 847 Navajo 25, 49, 72, 73, 74, 75, 80, 163, 166, 167, 215, 228, 268, 279–280, 317, 328, 337, 389, 391, 392, 394, 400–402, 403, 404, 407, 441–442, 459, 465, 472–473, 488, 520, 521, 572, 580–581, 583, 588, 602, 603, 622–624, 703, 742, 745, 751, 752, 753, 753, 754, 755, 756, 757, 765, 775–776, 877, 878 Nee’aanèegn’ 781 Nêhiyawêwin 776 Nejí 1303, 1304, 1305 Neutral language 1045, 1046, 1094, 1094, 1095, 1101, 1601, 1605 Nevome 1334, 1338, 1344, 1344, 1345, 1345 New River Shasta 1171, 1251 Nez Perce 99, 186–187, 223, 258, 263, 351, 470, 489, 530–532, 533, 542–543, 588, 589, 605, 606, 648, 649, 654, 655, 1139, 1141, 1142, 1143–1145, 1145, 1146, 1147, 1148, 1150–1152, 1153, 1153, 1154, 1156–1158, 1157, 1159, 1160, 1161, 1162 Niger-Congo languages 56n7 Nimipuutímt 99 Nipmuck. See Loup Nisenan 1251 Nisga’a 559, 560, 657, 793, 986, 989, 991, 993, 994, 996, 997, 1001, 1003, 1004, 1006 Nishnaabemwin 288, 296, 529–530, 531, 533, 937 Nitinaht 405 Nitinat 92 Nlaka’pamux 53, 743, 752, 766, 1055 Nomlaki 649, 1229, 1251 Nooksack 1054, 1056 Nootka 212, 359, 405, 472, 659, 1013 North Baffin Inuktitut 197, 854 Northeastern Kumeyaay 1303, 1304, 1305, 1327 Northeastern Pomo 649, 1223 Northern Haida 391 Northern Iroquoian languages 64, 78, 80, 81, 148–149, 218, 637, 815, 1601, 1602, 1603,

Index of languages 

 1679

1604–1605, 1606, 1608, 1609, 1612, 1616, 1629, 1630, 1631, 1631 Northern Pai 1304, 1307 Northern Paiute 18, 272, 274, 277, 289, 293, 294, 295, 326, 329, 330, 338–339, 502, 580, 584–585, 586, 639, 640, 705, 715, 1333 Northern Pomo 346n1, 348, 349, 356, 369, 641, 800, 1223, 1228, 1231, 1232, 1233, 1239, 1240, 1242, 1243 Northern Straits 656, 1054, 1054, 1056, 1057, 1061, 1063, 1064, 1068, 1073, 1080, 1091 Northern Tepehuan 1334 Northern Tutchone 80 Northern Yuman 390 North Slavey 72, 78 Nottoway 1601, 1603, 1603 Nsyilxcen 588, 589, 723, 773, 779 Nuuchahnulth/Nuu-chah-nulth 17, 25, 53, 93, 95, 98, 196, 197, 212, 213, 217, 219, 220, 233, 237, 271, 272, 550, 551, 1134 Nuu-wee-ya’ language 877, 880, 889 Nuxalk 723, 1013, 1043, 1054 Nxa’amxcin 139 Obispeño 1275, 1276, 1278, 1284, 1285, 1290, 1290, 1291, 1293, 1296, 1298 Occaneechi 1449 Odawa. See Nishnaabemwin Ofo 663, 1449, 1460–1461, 1495, 1496, 1546, 1554, 1632 Ohlone 681, 1247, 1248, 1249, 1250, 1251, 1254, 1256, 1256, 1257, 1260, 1261 Ojibwa 97 Ojibwe 225, 226, 395, 460, 462, 503, 529, 532, 555, 555, 609, 748, 780, 792, 800, 932, 933, 934–935, 935, 936, 937, 938–939, 941, 943, 944, 952, 953, 958, 1133 Oji-Cree 748, 765, 938, 939, 941, 943 Okanagan language 163, 588, 589, 612, 773, 1057, 1058, 1060, 1061, 1069 Oklahoma Cherokee. See Cherokee Okwanuchu 1251 Omaha 503, 503–504, 1458–1459, 1464, 1464, 1465, 1465, 1475, 1477, 1478, 1492, 1493, 1495, 1498, 1500, 1502 Oneida 41, 46–47, 49, 92, 277, 489, 796, 813, 1601, 1602, 1603, 1603, 1604 Onondaga 197, 287, 290, 294, 813, 815, 1601, 1602, 1603, 1603, 1604, 1606

1680 

 Index of languages

Oob No'ok 1334, 1338, 1344, 1344 O’odham 279, 385, 392–393, 1334, 1339, 1341 Osage 143, 144, 272, 288, 297, 328, 372, 640, 1459n13, 1467, 1471, 1496, 1554 Ottawa. See Nishnaabemwin Owens Valley Paiute. See Mono Pai languages 1304, 1307 Paipai 1304 Pai-River 1304, 1307, 1308, 1312 Palaihnihan languages 639, 1171, 1250n3, 1251 Pamlico 932 Pamunkey 1627, 1628, 1628, 1629, 1630–1632, 1631 Papago 96. See O'odham; O’odham Passamaquoddy 465, 467, 932, 933, 936 Patwin 472, 643, 649, 693, 694, 1223, 1228, 1229, 1251, 1254, 1260, 1265, 1266, 1268, 1269 Pawnee 92, 640, 659, 1407, 1408, 1409, 1410, 1410, 1411, 1411, 1412, 1413, 1414, 1415, 1416, 1417, 1418, 1420, 1422, 1426, 1427–1430, 1433, 1434, 1437, 1438, 1439, 1440 Peña Blanca 1303, 1304 Pentlatch 1054, 1056, 1061, 1088 Penutian languages 650, 662, 663, 671, 674, 680, 681, 765, 987n2, 1141, 1247, 1248, 1249, 1250, 1251, 1252, 1255–1256, 1257–1258, 1259, 1270 Peoria 657 Petun 1601, 1605 Picuris Northern Tiwa 1361, 1362, 1368, 1369, 1382, 1384, 1390 pidgin (Muskogean), 1634 Pidgin Delaware 647, 651, 658, 660 Pidgin Inuit 651 pidgin languages 647, 648, 649, 650, 651, 654, 658, 659, 660, 661, 952, 1347 Piipaash 268, 501, 508, 521, 1303, 1304, 1305, 1308, 1309, 1327 Pima 54, 1334, 1344 Plains Apache 461, 1363 Plains Cree 27, 116, 149–150, 193, 276, 317, 359–360, 424, 488, 503, 586, 587, 776, 934, 935, 937, 938, 939, 941, 951, 956, 960, 964, 966, 970, 982, 983 Plains Indian Sign Language 385, 647, 650, 658, 659 Plains Miwok 472, 1251 Pochutec 1334

Pomoan family 641, 656, 1223, 1224, 1224, 1239 Pomoan languages 99, 140, 142, 214, 221, 222, 223, 278, 298–299, 368, 369, 422, 470, 472, 498, 503, 577, 587, 607, 641, 642, 643, 649, 656, 663, 765, 1223–1243, 1248, 1250, 1258, 1259, 1263, 1265, 1266 Pomo languages 98, 140, 214, 216, 221, 222, 223, 277, 278, 298–299, 300, 346n1, 348, 349, 356, 368, 369, 375, 389, 390, 422, 423, 423, 472, 498, 499, 503, 508, 587, 607, 641–642, 643, 656, 693, 715, 752, 752, 755, 765, 800, 1223, 1224, 1224, 1225, 1226, 1227, 1228, 1228n3, 1229, 1231, 1232, 1233, 1234, 1235, 1237, 1238, 1239, 1240, 1241, 1242–1243 Potawatomi 358, 423–424, 932, 933 Powhatan 932, 1629, 1630, 1631 Purisimeño 1275, 1276, 1276, 1278, 1281, 1283, 1284, 1285, 1288, 1290, 1291, 1293 Quapaw 1458, 1459n13, 1468, 1485n27 Quechan language 1304 Quileute 80, 92, 216, 221, 227, 271, 358, 405, 655, 662, 752, 753, 756, 765 Quinault 1055, 1094, 1095, 1100, 1100, 1101 qwi·qwi·diccaq 1013, 1015, 1017, 1018, 1020, 1022, 1023, 1024, 1027, 1030, 1036, 1037, 1040, 1042 Rio Grande Tewa 1361, 1362, 1364, 1365, 1366, 1367, 1368, 1369, 1370, 1371, 1372, 1373, 1373, 1376, 1377, 1381, 1382, 1383, 1386, 1387, 1388, 1389 Ritwan languages 672, 932, 1058 River languages 1304, 1307, 1334 Rumsen 1251 Saanich 111, 115, 330, 336, 337, 1013, 1054, 1054, 1056, 1057, 1061, 1063, 1064, 1067, 1069, 1073 Sahaptian language 102, 186, 223, 331, 334, 470, 530, 577, 588, 589, 605, 639, 654, 1115, 1139–1162, 1249 Sahaptin language 18, 99, 102, 103, 271, 348n2, 399, 564, 639, 640, 747, 748, 765, 1139, 1140, 1141, 1142, 1143, 1144, 1145, 1145, 1146, 1147, 1148–1150, 1151, 1152, 1153, 1153, 1154, 1155, 1156, 1157, 1157, 1158 Sahtú Dene 72, 78 Sahtúot’ine yati 891, 894, 896, 904, 906, 906, 908, 909



Salinan language 1247, 1250, 1251, 1252, 1254, 1255, 1256, 1256, 1257, 1258, 1262, 1263, 1265, 1266, 1268, 1347 Salishan languages 17, 18, 21, 29, 50, 92, 99 Salish languages 18, 21, 23, 25, 26, 29, 44, 45, 48, 49, 50, 51, 53, 54, 57, 93, 98, 99, 110, 111, 115, 120, 121, 125, 126, 128, 139, 141, 163, 165, 250, 251n5, 255, 260, 268, 270, 271, 273, 275–276, 288, 291, 299, 336, 337, 354, 356, 395, 405, 438, 533, 548, 549, 572, 612, 625, 629, 648, 651, 652, 654, 655, 656, 662, 672, 673, 706, 775, 1053–1106, 1055 Samala 1275, 1276, 1276, 1277, 1278, 1284, 1288, 1290, 1291, 1298 San Antonio Necua 1303, 1304, 1305 San Carlos Apache 166, 169, 350 San Francisco Bay Costanoan languages 1251 San José de la Zorra 1303, 1304, 1305, 1308, 1318, 1327 San José de Tecate 1303, 1304, 1327 Santee 638, 639, 1456, 1468 Sanya-Henya Lingít 80 Saponi 1461–1462 Sarcee 64, 70, 72, 73, 78 Sauk Language 462, 778, 800, 932 Sechelt 1054, 1062, 1063, 1069, 1070, 1078, 1083n20, 1085, 1086, 1088, 1093 Secwepemc 51 Secwepemctsín 723, 773, 780, 802, 1054, 1055 Sekani 78, 138, 142 Seliš 648, 649, 652, 1055 Seminole 639, 1554, 1578n2, 1594 SENCOTEN, 5, 6, 13, 17, 21, 22, 24, 24, 25, 27, 50, 51, 51, 58, 115, 572, 581, 584, 586, 588, 591, 706, 708, 721, 722, 723, 726, 728, 730, 731, 734, 1013, 1054, 1054 Seneca 90, 148–149, 217–218, 222, 234, 388, 388–389, 391, 551, 1601, 1602, 1603, 1606, 1611, 1622 Seri 562–563 Serrano 768, 1334, 1338, 1342 Sewee 1627, 1628, 1628, 1632, 1637, 1638, 1639 Shasta 663, 1169, 1171, 1172, 1260, 1262, 1263, 1265, 1266, 1267 Shastan languages 1171, 1172, 1247, 1248, 1250, 1251, 1254, 1255, 1256, 1256, 1257, 1260, 1261, 1263 Shawnee 932, 933 She shashishalhem 723

Index of languages 

 1681

Shoccoree-Eno 1627, 1628, 1628, 1632, 1640 Shoshone 220, 274, 279, 364, 372, 537, 639, 651, 659, 715, 1333, 1336, 1340, 1341 Shuswap 639, 640, 1054, 1055, 1057, 1061, 1062, 1067, 1069, 1070, 1071, 1072, 1077, 1080, 1092, 1093, 1094, 1096, 1097 Siberian Yupik 148, 547, 563, 563, 843, 844, 846, 847, 848, 860 Sierra Miwok 110, 124, 253n8, 663, 1251, 1255, 1259–1260, 1267, 1268 Siletz 885, 1055 Siouan-Catawban language 1449, 1468, 1469, 1629, 1632, 1639 Siouan languages 64, 78, 79, 86, 110, 122, 137, 142, 143, 169, 173, 193, 197, 209, 216, 220, 221, 234, 262, 268, 285, 287–288, 292, 295–296, 297, 311, 324, 328, 331, 332, 341, 359, 365, 367, 368, 372, 461, 462, 488, 503, 504, 555, 558, 572, 621, 638, 639, 640, 653, 654, 659, 663, 672, 673, 766, 1408, 1447–1511, 1552, 1554, 1557, 1629, 1630, 1631, 1632, 1639 Sirenik 843, 844, 844 Sirenikski 843 Siuslaw 399, 639, 640 Skiri Pawnee 1411, 1420, 1438 Skwxwu7mesh 18, 18, 29, 29, 29, 29, 583–584, 585, 586, 720, 781, 1054 Slave 279, 286, 288, 290, 293, 297, 332, 355, 585, 649, 709, 876n1, 880 Slavey 80 Sliammon 250, 255, 1013, 1053n1, 1059, 1061–1063, 1066, 1067–1094, 1097, 1097–1099, 1104–1106 Snchitsu’umshtsn 93, 99, 1055 Solano 1627, 1628, 1628, 1640, 1642, 1643, 1643 Sonoran O'otam 1334, 1338 Souriquois Jargon 660 South Band Pawnee 1411, 1418 Southeastern Pomo 140, 641, 715, 1223, 1225, 1233, 1234, 1238, 1242–1243 Southeastern Yavapai 1304 Southern Dene 77 Southern Interior Salishan languages 654 Southern Iroquoian languages 637, 1601, 1602, 1603 Southern Kumeyaay 1304, 1306 Southern Paiute 97, 98, 214, 346n1, 357, 358, 395, 400, 401, 639, 1333 Southern Pomo 221, 222, 223, 607, 641, 693, 1226, 1233, 1241, 1242

1682 

 Index of languages

Southern Sierra Miwok 110, 124, 253n8, 663 Southern Tiwa 1361, 1362, 1364, 1366, 1367, 1368, 1369, 1370, 1373, 1375, 1376, 1383, 1384, 1385, 1387, 1388 Southern Tsimshian 985, 986, 1001, 1006 Southern Tutchone 80, 406, 878 Southern Ute 18, 20, 97, 98 Southwestern/Southeastern Tepehuan 1334 Spokane 17, 120, 1055, 1057, 1058, 1060, 1061, 1063, 1065, 1066, 1067, 1069, 1070, 1071, 1073, 1078, 1094, 1103 Spokane-Kalispel-Flathead 1055, 1065 Squamish 271, 583, 1054, 1057, 1062, 1067, 1069, 1076, 1077, 1080, 1082, 1087, 1091, 1096, 1097, 1099 St. Lawrence Island Yupik. See Central Siberian Yupik St’át’imcets 18, 25, 26, 50, 174, 251, 288, 505, 507, 522, 533, 578, 579, 581, 582, 584, 588, 591, 610, 611, 723, 1054, 1055 Stoney Dakota 142 Susquehannock 653, 1601, 1603, 1605 Swampy Cree 276, 721, 940–941 Tagish 406 Tahltan 100, 163, 877, 878 Takelma 64, 80, 399, 1056 Tanacross 77, 78, 163, 169, 171, 171, 550, 880, 883, 896, 900, 902, 903, 905, 907, 908, 909, 911 Tanaina. See Dena’ina Tanana 159, 160, 160, 163, 164, 165, 166, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 176, 284, 285, 286, 293, 294, 295, 299, 301, 440–442, 554, 781, 880, 881, 881, 883, 886, 889, 891, 893, 894, 897, 898, 899, 900, 903, 903, 911, 913 Tanpachoa 1627, 1628, 1628, 1640, 1643–1644 Taos Northern Tiwa 1361, 1362, 1368, 1369, 1370, 1375, 1376, 1378, 1378–1380, 1380, 1384 Tarramiut Inuktitut 580 Tawasa 1632 Teguima 1334, 1339, 1344 Tepecano 1334 Tetsót’iné 880, 883 Tetsót’ýné yatýé 890, 911 Tewa 274, 275, 386, 389, 400, 406, 650, 655, 656, 1361, 1362, 1364, 1365, 1366, 1367, 1368, 1369, 1370, 1371, 1372, 1373, 1373, 1374, 1375, 1376, 1377, 1378, 1380, 1381, 1382, 1383, 1385, 1386, 1387, 1388, 1389

Tewa of Arizona 386, 389 Thompson 125–126, 405, 1055, 1057, 1058, 1060, 1061, 1062, 1063, 1065, 1069, 1070, 1071–1072, 1077, 1080, 1084, 1085, 1086, 1092, 1093, 1094, 1095–1097 Thompson River 336–337, 612 Thompson Salish 405 Tiipay 250, 251, 270–271, 271, 328, 329, 375, 703, 703, 704, 1303, 1304, 1305, 1315, 1323, 1327 Tillamook 169, 1055, 1055, 1056, 1057, 1058, 1060, 1062, 1064, 1070, 1072, 1075, 1076, 1077, 1078, 1080, 1092, 1093, 1102–1103, 1104 Timucua 258, 259, 263, 1554, 1632, 1636, 1637 Timucuan languages 1632, 1637 Tionontati. See Petun Tlicho Yatýiì 214, 802 Tlingit 23–24, 56, 57n8, 64, 77, 80, 94–95, 96, 272, 309, 327, 406, 428–430, 430, 433, 434, 442n12, 521, 524, 568, 579, 581, 588, 589, 590, 613, 622, 650, 652, 653, 656, 775, 986 Tohono O’odham 18, 54–55, 96, 97, 131, 146, 369, 391, 392, 394, 402, 1345 Tolkapaya Yavapai 274, 373 Tongva 768, 1333, 1334, 1337n1, 1340, 1341 Tonkawa 146, 227, 349, 351, 365, 376, 399, 673, 1522n5, 1635, 1640, 1642, 1643, 1643 Towa 1361, 1362, 1366, 1370–1371, 1372, 1373, 1374, 1380, 1382, 1384, 1385, 1388 Trader Navajo 651, 660 Tse’khen 78 Tsilhqot’in 464, 723, 730, 877, 878, 880, 884, 890, 893, 895, 896, 903, 904, 907, 908, 915, 916 Tsimshianic languages 197, 232, 233, 497, 498, 499, 506, 559, 577, 579, 657, 797, 985–1006, 1014 Tsimshian languages 80, 92, 93, 316, 604, 985, 985–1006, 986, 990, 991, 993, 995, 1001, 1006 Tsúùt’ina 64, 72, 73, 78, 428n4, 457n7, 467, 473, 880, 903, 910 Tubar language 1333, 1334 Tübatulabal anguage 143, 144, 639, 1333, 1334, 1337, 1337, 1339, 1341, 1343, 1344, 1348 Tümpisa Shoshone 279, 364, 372 Tunica 250n4, 482, 663, 673, 809, 1461, 1521, 1545–1574, 1632 Tunumiisut 315, 844 Tuscarora 148–149, 196, 223, 234, 309, 637, 1601, 1602–1603, 1603, 1606, 1608, 1609, 1640 Tutelo 1449, 1461–1462, 1464, 1470, 1484, 1485, 1496, 1510



Tututni 464 Twana 92, 662, 746, 747, 748, 749, 750, 766, 1054, 1056, 1062, 1064, 1078, 1091, 1094 Twulshootseed 781n7 Ucwalmícwts 824, 829 ’Uikala 1014 Unami 660, 932, 934, 936 Unangam Tunuu 307, 309, 313, 314, 315, 316, 781, 843, 844, 847, 848, 850, 850–851, 852, 853, 859, 861, 865, 866, 869 unclassified languages 1627–1644 Upper Chehalis 199, 395, 1055, 1057, 1058, 1064, 1065, 1068, 1070, 1071, 1073, 1076, 1078, 1079n18, 1090, 1091, 1094, 1100, 1100 Upper Chinook 459, 1116, 1136 Upper Tanana 27, 167, 284–285, 293, 294, 295, 299, 301, 440–442, 554, 781, 880, 883, 886, 891, 894, 897, 898, 899, 900, 903, 911, 913 Upper Tanana Athabascan 27 Upriver Halkomelem 64, 80, 533, 1072 Ute language 18, 20, 97, 98, 286, 287, 291, 296, 299, 300, 309, 639, 1334, 1340, 1341 Utian language 124, 316, 639, 642, 663, 1251, 1254, 1347 Uto-Aztecan languages 18, 20, 54, 64, 78, 81, 96, 97, 109, 116, 123, 131, 141, 143, 146, 197, 211, 214, 215, 220, 227, 234, 254, 268, 270, 272, 273, 274, 279, 286, 287, 288, 289, 291, 295, 296, 300, 309, 326, 329, 338, 339, 341, 357, 377, 389, 431, 466, 502, 504, 577, 580, 619, 639, 640, 650, 656, 672, 674, 677, 705, 766, 1115, 1250, 1333–1356, 1447, 1641, 1643, 1643, 1644 Uummarmiut 292, 845, 852, 853 Ventureño 1275–1277, 1276, 1278, 1279, 1279, 1280, 1281–1282, 1283, 1284, 1286–1292, 1287, 1289, 1290, 1291, 1294, 1295, 1296, 1297, 1298, 1299, 1299, 1300, 1301 Verde Valley Yavapai 1320 Virginia Algonquian. See Powhatan Waiilatpuan language 670 Wailaki 693, 880 Wakashan languages 25, 53, 64, 81, 92, 93, 97, 115, 125, 127, 130, 132, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 212, 213, 219, 220, 232, 233, 235, 268, 272, 359, 463, 472, 503, 508, 550, 577, 581, 611, 630, 634, 638, 639, 640, 655, 656, 657, 659, 662, 672, 673,

Index of languages 

 1683

706, 766, 797, 986, 1005n15, 1013–1047, 1056, 1058, 1062, 1080, 1082 Walapai 1304 Wampanoag 653, 932 Wappo 642, 649, 656, 663, 1247, 1250, 1252 Wasco-Wishram 395, 470, 1116 Washo 27, 123, 186, 347–348, 355, 365, 369, 374–374, 639, 705, 715, 1201, 1218, 1250, 1252, 1263, 1265, 1266 Wendat language 91, 92, 807, 809, 811–814, 815, 816, 817, 818, 1601, 1603, 1603, 1605 Wenro 1601, 1605 Western Abenaki 932 Western Apache language 18, 170, 273, 311–312, 390, 393, 394, 404, 443, 464, 465, 503, 564, 565, 566, 604, 880, 883, 885, 885, 893, 894, 897, 902, 903, 906, 907, 908, 909, 911 Western Atakapa 1633, 1635, 1642 Western Cherokee 708, 715 Western Mono 391 Western Yavapai 1304 West Greenlandic languages 216, 224, 378, 379, 757–758, 844, 851, 852, 855, 860 Wichita 92, 211, 214, 272, 277, 318, 356, 438–440, 640, 1407, 1408, 1409, 1410, 1411, 1411–1413, 1414, 1415, 1416, 1416, 1417–1418, 1418, 1419, 1420, 1420, 1422, 1422, 1424, 1425, 1426, 1427, 1428, 1429, 1431, 1432, 1433, 1436, 1439, 1441, 1640 Wikchamni Yokuts 638, 1257 Winnebago 169, 216 Wintuan language 162, 472, 639, 642, 643, 649, 663, 1229, 1239, 1247, 1248, 1249, 1250, 1251, 1254, 1255, 1256, 1256, 1257, 1258, 1260, 1263, 1265, 1266, 1270, 1271, 1339, 1347 Wintu language 162, 642–643, 720, 1251, 1265, 1268 Witsuwit’en 25, 138, 723, 730, 880, 881–882, 882, 883, 884, 886, 887, 888, 894, 895, 898, 900, 903, 905, 906, 906, 911, 915, 1013 Wiyot languages 663, 672, 673, 680, 931, 932, 932, 1058, 1247, 1250, 1252, 1254, 1255, 1256, 1256, 1263, 1267, 1270 Woccon 1449, 1632 Woods Cree 424 Wôpanâôt8âôk 809, 817 Wyandot 268, 268n1, 269, 1601, 1603, 1603, 1605

1684 

 Index of languages

Xaad Kil 142, 723 Xa’islakala (Kitimaat)-Xenaksialakala (Kitlope), 1014 xʷməθkʷəy̓əm 824 Yakima Ichishkíin 331, 334 Yakima Sahaptin 103 Yana 663, 707, 1171, 1247, 1248, 1250, 1251, 1252, 1254, 1255, 1256, 1260, 1261, 1262, 1263, 1266, 1267, 1268 Yaqui 64, 78, 274, 279, 309, 313, 315, 316, 1334 Yavapai 387, 1303, 1304, 1305, 1306, 1308, 1311, 1312, 1317, 1327 Yoeme 1334, 1341 Yokutsan languages 186, 639, 1247, 1249, 1250, 1255, 1256, 1257, 1266, 1339, 1347 Yokuts languages 124, 638, 681, 1248, 1249, 1251, 1254, 1257, 1260, 1263, 1265, 1268, 1347 Yowlumne 124, 720 Yuchi languages 139, 150, 461, 639, 663, 1449, 1462, 1468–1469, 1552, 1554, 1560, 1632 Yuki 472, 639, 642, 649, 656, 663, 693, 694, 1223, 1232n4, 1247, 1250, 1252, 1254, 1259, 1266, 1268

Yukian languages 330, 472, 642, 663, 1247, 1250, 1252, 1254, 1256, 1256, 1257, 1259, 1263, 1266, 1268, 1270, 1347 Yuman languages 96, 216, 234, 268, 270–271, 271, 272, 273–275, 279, 288, 300, 301, 316, 328, 329, 339, 341, 361n8, 369, 372, 373, 375, 390, 501, 521, 537, 557, 656, 693, 697, 703, 766, 1224, 1248, 1250, 1257, 1263, 1265, 1266, 1267, 1303–1327, 1339, 1347, 1349 Yup’ik 90, 92, 119, 120, 124, 143, 144, 145, 147, 148, 196, 197, 198, 228–229, 230–231, 237, 357, 370, 378, 378, 511, 512–513, 533, 544, 552, 553, 556, 557, 557, 558, 562, 564, 565, 607, 633, 633–636, 644, 654, 706, 799, 843, 844, 846, 847, 849, 850, 851, 853, 855, 867, 867, 869, 869 Yurok 118, 158, 212, 217, 516–518, 663, 672, 673, 680, 720, 931, 932, 932, 1058, 1133, 1169, 1172, 1192, 1194, 1247, 1250, 1252, 1254, 1255, 1256, 1256, 1263–1266, 1269, 1270 Zuni 124, 268, 277–278, 385, 388, 389, 390, 397, 398, 399, 472, 533, 742, 752, 752, 753, 754, 756, 765

Index of names Note: References following “n” refer notes. Ahenekew, Freda 116 Ahlers, Jocelyn C. 689 Aikhenvald, Alexandra Y. 289, 295, 299, 500, 501, 508, 603 Alderete, John 163 Alfred, Gerald Taiaiake 571 Allard, Ida Rose 958 Allen, M.E.Shanley 742, 746, 748, 750, 751 Alvarez Gonzalez, Albert 341 Amery, Rob 808, 817 Ammann, Andreas 591 AnderBois, Scott 508 Anderson, Margaret 986 Anderson, Pamela 482 Anderson, Patricia 250n4, 333, 1565 Anderson, Victoria 53n6, 54 Andrade, Manuel J. 227, 358 Anisman, Adar 721–722, 915 Aoki, Haruo 351, 470, 1146, 1151, 1154, 1158–1159 Aonuki, Yurika 582n7 Archibald, Jo-ann 773 Ariel, Mira 600 Asher, James J. 284 Attla, Catherine 879 Austin, Peter 812 Austin-Garrison, Martha 877 Avelino, Heriberto 54 Axelrod, Melissa 585n11, 891, 915 Babel, Molly 705 Bach, Emmon 1022 Bahr, Donald 392–393 Baird, Jessie “Little Doe” 653, 817 Baker, Mark 592 Bakker, Peter 424, 660, 953, 956, 965 Baldwin, Daryl 653, 811, 817 Balodis, Uldis 694 Bang, Megan 770, 830 Baraby, Anne-Marie 297 Bar-el, Leora Anne 584 Barner, David 541n10, 542 Barnes, Sherry 554 Barrett, Samuel A. 1223–1224 Barthmaier, Paul 163 Basso, Keith 393, 404, 435, 443, 464, 565, 914 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-064

Bates, Dawn 1066 Beavert, Virginia 102, 1139, 1158, 1161 Beck, David 163, 235 Beckman, E. Mary 157 Beers, Keiko 131 Begishe, Kenneth 877 Belin, Esther G. 914 Bender, Jorigine 300 Berez, Andrea L. 163, 166, 657, 823n2, 900 Berez-Kroeker, Andrea L. 657, 823, 900 Bereznak, Catherine 1364 Berge, Anna 175, 314, 599, 649 Bergsland, Knut 847n5, 850n9, 852n11, 866, 866n20 Berman, Judith 399, 463 Bernard, Russell 69 Bessell, Nicola 56 Bickel, Balthasar 1475, 1477 Bird, Sonya 4, 15, 18, 21, 25, 30, 31, 42, 49, 50, 51, 54 Birner, Betty J. 600 Bittner, Maria 855 Bliss, Heather 4, 20n9, 47, 50, 51 Bloomfield, Leonard 680, 934 Boas, Franz 630–632, 829, 986, 1022, 1045n20, 1118n5, 1120n7, 1133n28, 1469, 1537 Bobaljik, Jonathan David 852 Bochnak, M. Ryan 590, 1214 Boersma, Paul 15 Bogal-Allbritten, Elizabeth 917 Bohnemeyer, Jürgen 175 Bolton, Herbert E. 1633 Borhani, Maya T. 1269–1270 Bowern, Claire 823n2 Boyle, J. P. 1467, 1471 Briggs, Jean L. 844n3 Bright, William 1173, 1174, 1176–1177, 1180, 1189, 1191–1193 Brinton, Daniel Garrison 678 Broadbent, Sylvia M. 693 Broselow, Ellen 126 Brown, Colin 996, 1006 Brown, Penelope 606–607, 609 Browner, Tara 393 Bruce, Gösta 173 Buechel, Eugene 1456

1686 

 Index of names

Buffalo, John Rush 399 Bunte, Pamela 400, 401 Bunzel, Ruth 280 Burke, Kenneth 407 Burnaby, Barbara 933 Burnouf, Laura 953 Buschmann, J. E. C. 1364 Buszard-Welcher, Laura 423 Butler, Lynnika 694, 709n9, 817 Bybee, Joan L. 586, 619 Cable, Seth 856n13 Cahill, Michael 812 Caldecott, Marion 12n5, 165, 174 Callaghan, Catherine A. 681 Camille, Clara 732, 735 Campbell, Lyle 661, 663, 1178, 1252, 1347, 1348, 1364, 1552, 1627 Cao, Minh 803 Cardinal, Emerence 885 Cardinal, Shirley 545 Carlson, Barry F. 1066 Carr, Gerald 914 Carter, R. T. 1463, 1466, 1472 Carter-Thomas, Shirley 315 Casaus, Bernice 877 Cash, Cash 1146 Cenerini, Chantale 977 Chafe, Wallace L. 218, 308, 388, 1409 Chamberlain, Alexander Francis 743, 1455 Champollion, Lucas 520 Charles, Thomas 627 Charlie, Moses 155, 155 Chee, Melvatha R. 742, 745, 752, 754, 756, 757, 877, 885, 919 Chelliah, Shobhana 693, 823n2 Cheney, Dave 1217 Chew, Kari A. B 768, 877, 1596 Chierchia, Gennaro 606n2 Cho, Taehong 1463 Claxton, Rae Anne 26, 42 Collignon, Beatrice 564 Columbus, Christopher 651 Compton, Richard 853, 857–858 Comrie, Bernard 205n1 Conathan, Lisa 690, 696–697 Cook, Clare 360 Cook, Eung-Do 103, 286, 461, 751, 752, 880 Cook, William 1602

Costa, David 657 Cowell, Andrew 436, 437, 438, 564n6, 608, 609 Crago, Martha B. 613, 746–748, 751 Cramblit, André 1193 Crawford, James M. 748, 1309, 1319n23, 1326, 1538 Crawford, John 958 Crowley, Terry 812 Cruikshank, Julie 405, 914 Crum, Beverly 406–407 Cruz, Robert 65, 131 Cumberland, Linda A. 286, 292 Curtis, Natalie 404 Cusic, David 515 Czaykowska-Higgins, Ewa 1056–1058, 1061, 1063, 1064, 1066, 1066n14, 1067–1068 Dahl, Östen 267, 273 Dahlstrom, Amy 118, 353, 355n5, 940, 941 Dailey, Brady 1231 Dalrymple, E. A. 1631 Damit-Barnes, Sherry 879 Dangberg, Grace 1217 Darnell, Regna 387 Dart, Sarah N. 18, 54 Dauenhauer, Nora Marks 653 Dauenhauer, Richard 653 David, Cora 879 Davis, Anita 1140, 1348, 1364 Davis, Henry 25, 232, 275, 578n1, 581, 591, 1056–1058, 1092, 1093n28, 1097, 1104, 1105, 1106, 1182, 1186 Davis, Jenny L. 707 Davis, Lorene 1594 Deal, Amy Rose 531–532, 542–543, 589, 605, 606n2, 917, 1151, 1159, 1242 De Decker, Paul 8 Deloria, Ella C. 1457, 1469 de Luxan, Diego Perez 1641 Demirdache, Hamida 1082 Demontigny, Verna 958 Dench, Catherine 746 Deneyou, Jonnie 803 Dennis, Odelia 877 de Onate, Juan 1643 de Reuse, Willem J. 166, 503, 693, 823n2, 860, 880, 909 de Rivera, Pedro 1642 Derrick, Donald 46 deSilva, Kihei 570



Dixon, George 571 Dixon, Roland B. 681 Doak, Ivy 93 Dorais, Louis-Jacques 844, 844n3 Dorsey, James Owen 1459, 1459n12, 1461, 1492, 1502 Douglas, Mount 572 Doxtator, Mercy 1604 Drachman, Gaberell 1064 Drapeau, Lynn 660, 745, 755 Drechsel, Emanuel 660, 696 Dresher, B. Elan 853 Dry, Helen Aristar 11 Dryer, Matthew 267, 285 Dunn, John Asher 986n1, 989 du Pratz, Antoine–Simon Le Page 1546 Dupris, Joseph 1269 Dyck, Carrie 187, 1604 Dyk, Walter 1122n11, 1123n13, 1127, 1127n17, 1128n20 Eastman, Carol M. 311 Edwards, Elizabeth 311 Egesdal, Steven 405, 743, 1065n13, 1102n33 Eira, Christina 835 Elders, Kaska 877 Elliott, Dave, Sr. 5, 50n4 Elliott, Eric 259n14 Engdahl, Elisabet 307 Engman, Mel 441 Ennow, Ernest 545 Enrico, John 370, 391, 538 Erasmus, Harriet 917 Eschenberg, Ardis 504, 1492–1493, 1502 Esling, H. John 52–53 Ewbank, Thomas 1408 Factor, Susannah 1594 Faltz, Leonard 885 Farnell, Gillian 877 Fee, E. Jane 750 Feeling, Durbin 1602, 1612 Fernald, Theodore B., 602, 603, 915 Feschuk, Steven 728 Field, Margaret 435n8 Field, Margaret C. 704 Fillmore, Bill 1217 Fish, Naatosi 31 Fitzgerald, Colleen M. 20n8, 44, 146, 391, 811, 835

Index of names 

 1687

Flamand, Rita 958 Flemming, Edward 57 Fleury, Norman 953, 958 Florey, Margaret 722n3, 738 Fontaneda, Escalante 1636 Fontaneda, Hernando de Escalante 1635 Fortescue, Michael 843, 849, 849n6, 860 Francisco, Captain 1643 Frank, Johnny 879 Frank, Sarah 879 Fraser, Katie 53 Frawley, William 583n9 Froman, Frances 1604 Galla, Candace Kaleimamoowahinekapu 791 Gallatin, Albert 1364, 1408, 1448n1, 1449, 1537 Gallegos, Hernan 1641, 1643 Garrett, Andrew 516 Gatschet, Albert Samuel 657, 1364, 1461, 1537, 1634, 1634n10, 1642, 1642n14 Geary, Quirina 694, 817 Gelo, Daniel 391 Genaille, Victoria 958 Gendron, Agnes 545 George, Leonard 568 George III, King 571 Gerdts, Donna 30–31 Gessner, Suzanne 284 Ghezzi, Ridie 395 Gick, Bryan 4, 20n9, 46, 47, 49 Gifford, Edward Winslow 1268 Gillies, Anthony 505 Gillon, Carrie 232, 532, 953, 966 Gitsenimx, Axeiiwilhox 727 Givón, Talmy 296, 300 Goddard, Ives 690, 693–697, 931–932, 934, 1632, 1632n8, 1638 Goddard, Pliny Earle 53, 56–57, 694–697, 879 Golla, Victor 467, 472, 1173, 1247, 1249–1252, 1256, 1259, 1268, 1348, 1365 Golovko, Evgenij V. 295 Goodfellow, Anne 709n10 Goodwin, Robert 1193 Gorbet, Larry Paul 1326 Gordon, Christine 1201 Gordon, Lynn 165, 501, 705n7167 Gordon, Matthew 16, 98, 165, 166, 176 Gordon, Sam 1201 Gouskova, Maria 146

1688 

 Index of names

Govenor, Viola 1140 Graczyk, Randolph 331 Granberry, Julian 1635–1636n11, 1636, 1637 Green, Jeremy 613, 1622, 1623 Greenberg, Joseph H. 673–675, 679, 682 Greene, Hannah 584–585 Greer, Jill D. 1469, 1474, 1492 Gregor, Theresa L. 1306 Grenoble, Lenore A. 808, 812 Grice, Herbert Paul 601–603, 601n1, 605–606 Grundy, Peter 600 Gundel, Jeanette K. 307 Haag, Marcia 224 Haas, Mary R. 28, 276, 463, 1019, 1538, 1547–1548, 1552, 1562–1563 Haile, Berard 401 Hale, Kenneth L. 825, 831, 885, 915, 1106, 1182, 1449 Hall, Jaeci 877 Halpern, Abraham M. 1224–1225, 1226n1 Hammarstrom, Harald 1627 Handschuh, Corinna 316 Hanink, Emily A. 1214 Harbour, Daniel 175, 315, 1364 Hardy, Heather 276, 586, 1326 Hargus, Sharon 25, 102, 883, 885, 905, 915 Harjo, Edmond A. 1594 Harrington, John Peabody 1190, 1194, 1277, 1278n3, 1278n4, 1284n13, 1284n14, 1364 Harris, G. Jimmy 53 Hat, Albert White 1457 Hayashi, Midori 855–857 Hayes, Bruce 937 Haynes, Erin 18 Haynie, Hannah J. 1248–1249, 1253 Heaton, Raina 1552, 1565 Helmbrecht, Johannes 216, 234, 1484 Henderson, Robert 522, 587n12 Henke, Ryan E. 755, 877 Henry, Alexander 659 Henry, Jim Pepper 653 Henry, Reginald 1604, 1606 Henry-Rodriguez, Timothy P. 1276 Hermes, Mary 441, 770, 830 Herrick, Dylan 31 Heyes, Scott 561 Hieber, Daniel W. 250n4, 1530, 1534, 1552 Hill, Jane 339, 404, 479, 482, 483, 694, 1347

Hindle, Lonnie 989 Hinton, Leanne 284, 391, 613, 693, 697–698, 722, 722n3, 726n5, 738, 811, 811n2, 817, 1309n9, 1317n21, 1604 Hirrel, Laura 131 Hoard, James E. 1066 Hockett, Charles 423n2 Hoijer, Harry 1642n14, 1643n16 Holden, Josh 880, 914 Holton, Gary 163, 169, 171, 708n10, 709n10, 900 Hopkins, Nicholas A. 1552 Horn, Laurence R. 601n1 Horseherder, Nicole 914 Hudu, Fusheini 50 Huijsmans, Marianne 588, 591n13 Hulst, vander 168 Hunn, Eugene 564 Hyde, Viliana 259n14 Hymes, Dell 395, 396, 399, 459, 679, 1118n5, 1146 Ibáñez, Elena 1307–1308 Ignace, Marianne 986 Ingham, Bruce 1457 Inkelas, Sharon 187 Iskarous, Khalil 49 Islam, Nahiyan 803 Jacobs, Melville 394 Jacobs, Peter 29, 720–721, 720n2, 721, 933, 1087 Jacobsen, William H. 359, 365, 472, 639–640, 1201, 1204n3, 1207, 1209, 1213–1214, 1216–1218 Jacobson, Steven A. 552, 556n3, 634, 636, 867n21 Jacups-Johnny, Jeanerette 1193 Jaker, Alessandro 885 James, Dominique 728 James, Roy 1217 Janvier, John 545 Jany, Carmen 328, 340, 1248–1249 Jefferson, Thomas 652, 669, 676 Jenni, Barbara 720n2, 721, 730 Jespersen, Otto 267 Jim, Lee Rex 394 Johansson, Sara 750, 757 John, Peter 564 John, Wally 1217 Johns, Alana 860, 861n14, 862n16, 863, 865, 870 Johnson, Alvis “Bud” 1193 Johnson, Ely William 1547



Johnson, Keith 28, 169 Johnson, Meredith 361, 610 Johnson, Sʔímlaʔxw Michele K. 727n4, 773 Jones, Linda M. 749, 812, 1466, 1472 Jones, Marie Smith 652 Joseph, Vincent 392 Julian, Charles 1605 Jun, Sun-Ah 173 Jung, Dagmar 914 Kari, James 566, 690, 885, 914, 915 Kaufman, Terrence 1249, 1346, 1510 Keane, A. H. 1364, 1408 Kendall, Martha B. 387, 1326 Kennard, Edward 1463 Kerfoot, Iphigenia 131 Kess, Copeland Anita 747 Kess, Joseph Francis 747 Kessler, Herman 554 Keye, Alfred 1604 Keye, Lottie 1604 Kharlamov, Viktor 18, 20, 21 Kim, Eun-Sook 1022, 1022n6 Kim, Sahyang 54 Kimball, Geoffrey D. 292n297, 395, 406, 537n8, 1590, 1595 King, Duane 1275, 1602 Kinkade, M. Dale 163, 661, 1056–1058, 1061, 1063, 1064, 1066, 1066n14, 1067–1068, 1069, 1069n15, 1082 Kiparsky, Paul 1122 Kiyota, Masaru 584, 584n10, 586 Klaiman, M. H. 1386 Klar, Kathryn 1276, 1278, 1298, 1346 Krauss, Michael E. 159 Krifka, Manfred 307, 309 Kroeber, Alfred L. 676, 678, 681, 751, 753, 754, 1056, 1058, 1061, 1069, 1070, 1076, 1092, 1094n29, 1099, 1102, 1102n33, 1105, 1189, 1217, 1248, 1250, 1641 Kroeber, Paul D. 274, 336, 389, 435n8, 459, 481, 650, 1056, 1058, 1061, 1069, 1070, 1076, 1080, 1092, 1099, 1102, 1102n33, 1105–1106, 1364 Kroupa, Bradley 1409 Kučerova, Ivona 865 Kuipers, Aert H. 1061–1064, 1085, 1099

Index of names 

 1689

Ladefoged, Peter 15, 18, 46, 52, 57, 98 Lakoff, Robin 606 Lamb, Sydney 1344 Lambrecht, Knud 307, 309 Lane, William Carr 1364 Lang, Julian 1195 Langacker, Ronald 274, 274n4 Langdon, Margaret 1308, 1311, 1313–1314, 1326 Langley, Linda 165–166 Larsen-Freeman, Diane 770 Larson, Joan Nymand 846n4 Latham, Robert Gordon 1408 Lavallee, Guy 953 Laverdure, Rose 958 Lawson, John 1639–1640 Lawyer, Lewis 642–643, 694 Lederer, Johann 1640 Leech, Geoffrey 606 Leer, Jeff 77, 148, 276, 278, 422n1, 549n1, 886 Legah, Lorene 914 Leo, Hilo Pūnana 779 Leonard, Janet 21, 50 Leonard, Wesley Y. 768, 808–809, 811–812, 830n5, 877 LeSourd, Philip S. 941 Lesser, Alexander 1409, 1410 Levinson, Stephen C. 426, 548, 600, 601n1, 606–607, 609 Leyva, Gonzalez 1305 Lindsey, Geoffrey 229 Linn, Mary 434n7, 811 Littell, Patrick 611–612 Loether, Christopher 391 Logan Sutton 248n3, 461, 483 Lokosh (Joshua D. Hinson) 709n10, 720, 744 Louie, Ben 729 Louie, Darlene 732 Louie, Delores 31 Louie, Robert 728 Louis, Ben 729 Lovick, Olga 883, 914, 916 Lowe, Ronald 292, 846, 856, 864 Lowie, Robert H. 1217 Luís, Ana 192 Lukaniec, Megan 91 Luna, Quirina 694, 709n9, 817 Lupardus, Karen Jaque 285

1690 

 Index of names

Macaulay, Monica 237, 361, 1178–1179, 1189 MacKenzie, Marguerite 276, 933 Maddieson, Ian 18, 25, 41–42, 47, 55–56, 56n7, 57n8, 91–93, 101, 103 Maier, Erik Hans 1180, 1196 Majid, Asifa 518 Maling, Joan 1240 Manatowa-Bailey, Jacob 284 Mandeville, Francois 879 Mansfield, John 702n2 Manson, Adam 729 Mantla, Elder Rosa 802 Mantla, Rosa 802, 877 Maracle, Owennatekha Brian 613 Margaret, Florey 284 Margetts, Andrew 47n2 Margetts, Anna 47n2 Marin, Ananda 770, 830 Martin, Gisele Maria 728, 737 Martin, Jack B. 28, 165–166169 Martin, Joseph 28 Martin, Levi 727 Martin, Maria Gisele 728, 737 Matchatis, Nora 545 Mathieu, Eric 530, 530n3 Matthew, Gordon 16, 18, 27 Matthews, George H. 1469 Matthewson, Lisa 232, 505, 577, 578n1, 579n4, 581, 588, 591, 610, 611, 1075, 1082 Mattina 1069, 1083n21 Mattina, Anthony 163 Mattiola, Simone 212 Maxwell, Judith 250n4, 1567 Mayan, Tzeltal 437 McAllester, David 391 McBride, Justin 1487 McCallum, Miles 803 McCarthy, John 112, 190 McCarty, Teresa 722 McCauley, Johnnie Ray 653 McConnel, Ursula 1191n11 McDonough, Joyce 16, 49, 57, 885 McDowell, Ramona 50 McIvor, Onowa 720–722, 720n2, 721–722, 726n4, 933 McKenzie, Andrew 366, 368–370, 372 McKinley, Jim 879 McLaughlin, Daniel 877 McLemore, Doris Jean Lamar 1409

McLendon, Sally 299–300, 1223–1224, 1226, 1226n1, 1227, 1234 Meadows, William C. 564n6 Meek, Barbra 914 Mellesmoen, Gloria 523 Melnar, Lynette R. 603, 1431 Merchant, Jason 866 Merrill, William L. 1344, 1346 Meyer, Paula 1307 Meza, Jon 1307 Michaëlius, Jonas 651 Michelson, Karin 1604 Midgette, Sally 915 Miestamo, Matti 267 Mike, Blind 1217 Miller, Amy 1304 Miller, Taylor Lampton 1366n5 Miller, Wick R. 748, 1335, 1641, 1643n16 Milligan, Marianne 937 Miner, Kenneth L. 169 Minoose, Lynda 545 Mirzayan, Armik 161, 162, 173, 175, 248n3, 438, 439, 1463 Mishler, Craig 660 Mitchell, Blackhorse 403 Mithun, Marianne 230–231, 234, 268, 268n1, 270, 273, 278, 278n5, 312, 314, 367, 368, 423, 441, 469, 508, 561, 582n7, 582n8, 592, 656, 707n8, 741, 880, 1120n23, 1159, 1187n9, 1223, 1231 1233, 1240–1242, 1247– 1249, 1252, 1256, 1261, 1262, 1264, 1266, 1283n10, 1299n23, 1347, 1364, 1409, 1448, 1519n3, 1552, 1602, 1604, 1605 Mixco, Mauricio 1463 Miyaoka, Osahito 847, 850n8, 851n10, 853, 855, 869 Miyashita, Mizuki 31, 51 Montgomery-Anderson, Brad 1602, 1611 Montler, Timothy 17, 93, 276, 336, 586, 625–627, 629 Mooney, Damien 812 Mooney, James 640 Moore, Blanche 1193 Moore, Patrick 914 Morgan, William 908 Morison, Samuel Eliot 651, 1152 Morris, Ivan, Sr. 31 Morris, Kāshā Julie 877 Morris, Lori 933 Moshinsky, Julius 1225, 1227–1229, 1242



Moss, Alonzo 564n6 Munro, Pamela 27, 168, 271–274, 274n4, 288, 479, 482–483, 1312, 1326 Murray, Sarah 502, 588, 591–592, 591n13 Nahanni, Phoebe 877 Nakayama, Toshihide 217 Namdaran, Nahal 50 Napoleon, Marilyn 731 Nater, Hank F. 1056, 1056n12 Nelson, Melissa 780 Neundorf, Alyse 914 Newman, Paul 513 Newman, Stanley 1066, 1092, 1094, 1094n29, 1095 Nichols, Johanna 253, 1475, 1477 Nichols, M. 1346 Nicodemus, Lawrence 93 Nicolson, Marianne 632 Nolan, Tess 21, 42 Northway, Darlene 879 Nutting, Ashlyn 326n6 Nycz, Jennifer 8 Nyman, Elizabeth 422 Oberly, Stacey 18, 20, 21 O’Connor, Mary Catherine 435n8, 1231, 1233, 1240, 1241 Offield, Mamie 396 Oliverio, Giulia R. M. 1461, 1510 Olmsted, David L. 1364 O’Rourke, Bernadette 770 Ortiz, Simon J. 778 Ortman, Scott 1348 Oswalt, Robert L. 1223–1225, 1227–1228, 1231, 1242 Pagliuca, William 586, 619 Palmer Jr., Gus 391 Pāṇini 40 Papen, Robert 956 Park, Indrek 1467, 1471 Parker, Aliana 722 Parkin, Christopher 775 Parks, Douglas R. 1409–1410, 1419n8, 1431n15 Parsons-Yazzie, Evangeline 917 Patañjali 40 Patt, Átwai Orthelia 1140 Paul, Lloyd 392 Payne, Thomas 267, 273 Pelletier, Harvey 958

Index of names 

 1691

Perce, Nez 258 Percival, Maida 51 Pérez-Báez, Gabriela 811 Perkins, Ellavina 914, 915 Perkins, Revere 586 Peter, Alexandria 728 Peter, Ruby 31 Peterson, Tyler 505, 588, 591, 591n13, 604 Petitot, Emile 878 Phinney, Archie 1146, 1158, 1160 Piché, Marlene 545 Pickard, Bertha 439 Pierite, Joseph Sr. 1567–1568 Pike, Kenneth 65, 67 Pile, Stephanie C. 755 Pitkin, Harvey 162, 642 Pittman, Christine 196 Platero, Paul 337, 914, 917 Podesva, Robert J. 46 Potier, Pierre 812 Potter, Brian 917 Powell, John Wesley 670–671, 676, 1053, 1364, 1408 Powers, William K. 696 Prince, Alan 112 Pritchard, Hilary 956 Provost, Bertha 439 Pulte, William 1602, 1612 Pustet, Regina 367, 368, 621, 622 Qamiina, Łuuta 53 Quintero, Carolyn 297, 1467 Radin, Paul 642 Rankin, Robert L. 653, 1448, 1466, 1470, 1472, 1477, 1491–1492 Redan, Linda 727 Reichard, Gladys 403, 696 Renville, Joseph 1456 Rhoan, Átwai Arlita 1140 Rhodes, Richard 460, 474, 530, 530n3, 544, 609 Rice, Keren 40, 42, 276, 286, 297, 332, 691, 709, 812, 834, 875, 880, 883, 885, 890–891, 905, 908–909, 913, 915, 917, 937, 1409 Richardson, Crystal 1194 Richardson, Marvin M. 1462 Riggs, Stephen 1456 Rigsby, Bruce 986n1, 988, 989, 998 Ritter, Elizabeth 579n4 Roach, Kevin 441

1692 

 Index of names

Roberts, Corey 1462 Roberts, David 69 Robertson, David D. 1135 Robinett, Florence M. 748 Rodriguez, Stanley 1305–1307 Rood, David 356, 1457, 1463n17, 1468, 1479, 1492, 1497 Rosborough, Patricia Christine 720, 776 Rose, Amy 128n1 Rosen, Bryan 1509 Rosen, Nicole 149, 532, 953, 956, 956n2, 957n3, 960, 966 Rosenblum, Daisy 630–632, 657, 768, 823, 823n2, 877, 1026n10 Rothstein, Susan 531, 541n10 Rowe, Gregory 811n3 Rude, Noel 1147, 1151, 1154, 1158–1159 Rudes, Blair 1602–1603 Rudin, Catherine 1500 Ruhlen, Merritt 681 Rullmann, Hotze 545, 591 Running Wolf, Caroline 799 Running Wolf, Michael 799 Sadock, Jerrold M. 230, 286, 855n12, 860 Salish, Montana 50, 57, 98, 648, 652, 654, 655 Sam, Avis 879 Sam, Ray 31 Samarin, William 823, 823n2 Sammons, Olivia N. 811, 914, 956, 956n2, 965n2, 980 Sanchez, Francisco “Chumascado” 1641 Sandoval, Richard 436n10, 438n11 Sandy, Clare S. 1173, 1196 Sapir, Edward 403, 467, 472, 670–675, 678–679, 938, 1022, 1025n8, 1026n12, 1083, 1449, 1474, 1477 Sasama, Fumiko 987n3, 988, 990, 996, 996n5, 1003n13 Sasse, Hans-Jürgen 234 Saxon, Leslie 691, 709, 904, 908, 915, 917 Scancarelli, Janine 215, 229, 249, 1612 Schauber, Ellen 917 Schellenberg, Murray 51 Schlichter, Alice 642–643 Schneider, Edgar W. 692 Schreyer, Christine 568 Scollon, Ronald 387, 697, 914 Scollon, Suzanne 914 Scott, Tacheeni 402

Searle, John R. 606 Sekaquaptewa, Emory 404 Sekaquaptewa, Helen 387 Selkirk, Elisabeth 175, 187 Seymour, Peter J. 1083n21 Shaer, Benjamin 855 Shaul, David Leedom 259n14, 388, 1335, 1348 Shaw, Karen 750 Shaw, Patricia A. 1030n14 Shepardson, Rebecca 1231 Sherzer, Joel 385, 647, 661 Shwayder, Kobey 956 Sibley, John 1633 Siebert, Jr., Frank T. 1479, 1483n26 Silentman, Irene 914 Silva, Vi 1193 Silva, Wilson 508 Silverstein, Michael 650–651, 656, 659–660, 1128 Sivertsen, Eva 162 Sjoberg, Andree F. 1634 Slockish, Átwai Suzie 1140 Smith, Carlota S. 884, 915 Smith, Carolyn 1171 Smith, L.Caroline 56, 57n8 Smith, Linda R. 877 Smith, Thom 67 Smith, Vina 1193 Snedeker, Jesse 541n10, 542 Snider, Keith 65, 69, 69n2 Speas, Margaret 885, 915, 917 Speas, Peggy 917 Speck, Frank 1461 Spence, Justin 697, 812, 814, 1196 Spencer, Andrew 192 Spencer, Jasmine 914 Sperber, Dan 601n1 Spicer, Edward 649 Spreng, Bettina 862 Sprott, Robert 1364 Stanford, James 702n2 Starks, Donna 424n3 Steele, Nancy 1193 Steele, Susan 1339 Stefansson, Vilhjalmur 650 Stegnij, Viktor A. 292 Stewart, Jesse 956, 956n2 Stonham, John 127, 128n1 Stuart, Bross Wendy 391 Stubbs, Brian 1335, 1336, 1348



Supahan, Sarah 1193 Supahan, Terry 1193 Super, Arch 1195 Super, Florrine 1195 Suppah, Margaret 1140, 1146 Sutton, Logan 1364, 1386 Swadesh, Morris 230, 233, 456n6, 677, 1022, 1025n8, 1026n12, 1056, 1519, 1531, 1537, 1538 Swallow, Tye 31 Swanton, John R. 1460, 1537, 1547, 1634, 1638, 1642, 1642n14, 1643, 1643n16 Taff, Alice 30 Tarpent, Marie-Lucie 657 Tatti, Fibbie 877, 914 Taylor, Allan R. 1409, 1457, 1463n17, 1468, 1479, 1492, 1497 Tedlock, Dennis 397–398 Teit, James Alexander 743 Terry, Kevin 750 Tersis, Nicole 315 Tewee, Willard 1140 Thieberger, Nicholas 812 Thom, Franklin 1195 Thomason, Sarah 57, 643, 704n5 Thompson, Chad 913, 914 Thompson, Edōsdi Judith 877 Thompson, Laurence C. 1056–1058, 1061, 1063, 1087, 1092, 1102n33 Thompson, Nile Robert 746, 749 Thorburn, Jennifer 745, 752 Thornes, Tim 294–295, 341, 354n4 Tillohash, Tony 401 Tlen, Daniel 914 Toelken, Barre 402 Tom, Crystal 732 Trager, George 1348 Travis, Lisa 592 Trechter, Sara 285n3, 298 Troike, Rudolph C. 1641, 1642n14, 1643n16, 1644 Tsawaluulh 728 Tucker, Benjamin 57 Turner, Claire K. 584, 584n10 Turner, William W. 1408 Tutcho, Laura 877 Tuttle, Siri 163, 164, 166–167, 169, 176, 295, 301, 404, 440, 883, 885, 914, 916 Tyone, Jim 566, 566

Index of names 

 1693

Uchihara, Hiroto 1602, 1611–1612 Ullrich, Jan F. 1457n10, 1468, 1492, 1504, 1508 Upper, Mary 745, 750, 879 Urbanczyk, Suzanne 127 Vajda, Edward 682 Valentine, J. Randolph 530, 530n3 Vallduví, Enric 306–307 Vancouver, George 572 van der Auwera, Johan 591 Van Eijk, Jan P. 1056, 1068, 1070, 1072n15, 1081, 1106 van Gelderen, Evn 267, 276, 360n7 Vihman, Eero 1231 Voegelin, Carl F. 748, 1448 von Fintel, Kai 505 Vrzić, Zvjezdana 1135 Waddell, Gene 1639 Waldie, Ryan 508 Walker, Alex 1242 Walker, N. Alexander 1226, 1229, 1242 Wallace, William J. 696 Warner, Natasha 694, 709n9, 817, 1270 Wash, Suzanne Maria 1280, 1294, 1294n19, 1296 Washburn, Dorothy 404 Watahomigie, Lucille J. 300, 1326 Watahomigie, Philbert 300 Watanabe, Honoré 251n5, 1087 Watkins, Laurel J. 355, 366, 470, 640 Webster, Anthony 914 Webster, Harry 1604 Weenink, David 15 Welch, Nicholas 905, 909, 919 Weltfish, Gene 1410 Werle, Adam 1045n20 Werner, Oswald 877 Whalen, H.Douglas 16, 49 Whaley, Lindsay J. 808, 812 Whipple, A. W. 1408 Whistler, Kenneth 642–643 Whiteley, Peter 390, 564n6 Whorf, Benjamin L. 1348 Wierzbicka, Anna 455n4, 607 Wiget, Andrew 387 Wiley, LaRae 775 Wilhelm, Andrea 536, 903–904, 915 Wilkins, David 460, 464 Wilkins, Levina 1140 Willett, Marie L. 1066

1694 

 Index of names

Willett, Thomas 500 Williamson, Thomas 1456 Willie, Mary 917 Willie, MaryAnn 914 Wilman, David 756 Wilson, Deirdre 601n1 Wilson, Ian 46, 49 Wilson, Louise 497n1 Wiltschko, Martina 579n4 Winnie, Ray 392 Wojdak, Rachel 1022, 1022n6 Wolfart, Christoph 116 Wood, Esther Jane 515–517 Woodbury, Anthony C. 65, 187, 370, 385, 398, 399, 435n8, 823n2, 1604

Woodbury, Hanni 1604 Wright, Richard 25 Yazzie, Evangeline Parsons 914 Young, Robert W. 457n7, 472, 585n11, 885, 891, 908 Yuan, Michelle 865, 866 Zahir, Zalmai 732n7 Zahir, Zeke 1298 Zimmermann, Eva 125, 127 Zoldy, Grace 958 Zsiga, Elizabeth 46, 52 Zuniga, Fernando 1386 Zwicky, Arnold M. 286

Index of subjects Note: References following “n” refer notes. ablative 461, 854, 1153 ablaut 110–111, 121, 129, 886, 1068, 1072, 1257–1258, 1312, 1313, 1316–1315, 1336, 1339, 1347, 1361, 1372, 1373, 1467–1469, 1475, 1467–1469 1486, 1508 absolutive 212, 215, 260–261, 316, 538, 557, 750, 854, 861–862, 862–863, 864, 1032, 1123, 1124, 1236, 1336, 1337, 1338, 1344, 1425, 1524, 1526, 1641 accent 28, 64–65, 68, 70, 78, 80, 81–82, 89, 101, 110, 121, 157, 161, 162, 168, 169, 173, 174, 176, 217, 259n14, 708, 867n21, 882, 937, 1067, 1169, 1173–1174, 1175, 1176, 1205, 1231, 1257, 1350, 1370, 1375n15, 1411, 1415, 1471–1473, 1606, 1612 accomplishment 517, 583–585, 729, 731, 777 acculturation 453, 457, 462, 464–465, 467, 487, 488 accusative 257–258, 259–260, 262, 263, 316, 750, 1030n15, 1258, 1261, 1524–1526, 1531, 1539 acoustic features 3, 15, 17, 25, 31 acoustic phonetics 3–6, 6–16, 14–15, 18–30, 30–31, 39–40, 42, 1463 action formation 436 active-stative alignment 1545, 1552–1553, 1615 adjective 210–211, 214–218, 221, 229, 230, 531, 541, 857–859, 905–906, 991, 1034, 1177n7, 1555, 1292, 1257 adjunct 352, 373, 1210, 1217 – complement vs. 346–347 – subordinate 348n2 – types of 348–350 adposition 205, 208, 220, 461, 558 adverb 214, 218–219, 346, 363, 395, 398, 514, 523, 581, 634, 857–859, 888, 895–896, 900–901, 1080, 1296 affricate 57, 94–95, 655, 706, 751–752, 1041, 1045–1046, 1062, 1063, 1227–1228, 1278–1279, 1367, 1464n19 age-graded variation 706 agent 216, 261, 356, 639, 1085–1087, 1090, 1124, 1155–1157, 1240, 1261, 1479–1483, 1615 – alignment with patient 1532–1534, 1539 – noun 1384–1385 – of passive clause 208, 1076 – of transitive 208, 1077, 1424, 1525 agentivizer 1299 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110712742-065

agent-patient alignment 1261, 1481, 1519, 1532, 1534, 1539 agglutinating/agglutinative 453, 1169, 1173, 1223, 1371, 1474, 1477, 1484 aggregate nouns 530, 540–543, 541n10 agreement 251, 251n6, 252, 253–255, 259–260, 260–261, 261, 262, 262n15, 261, 262, 263, 352–353, 861n15, 863–866, 999–1000, 1178, 1343 airstream mechanism 55, 94, 103 alienable 255–256, 1232–1233, 1259, 1491, 1553, 1585 alignment 750, 1124, 1125, 1176, 1523, 1532, 1552–1553, 861–862, 864, 1030n15, 1124, 1524, 1524–1525, 1526, 1527, 1539 allative 461, 863, 1154 ambiguity 69, 223–224, 300, 334, 391, 394, 407, 454 amplitude 16, 157 analytic 183, 307–308, 455n5, 460, 992, 1193, 1618 anaphor/anaphoric 189–190, 221, 367, 370, 375, 378, 865–866, 1207 animacy/animate 212, 286, 317, 331, 443, 504, 530, 555–556, 931, 941–942, 945, 951, 961–962, 964, 966–967, 971, 972–976, 1147, 1189, 1232, 1289, 1338, 1375, 1385–1386, 1424–1425, 1501–1502, 1551, 1560–1561 antipassive 750, 862–864, 1085, 1123 applicative 1068, 1079, 1088–1089, 1090, 1091, 1179, 1289, 1417–1418, 1418n7, 1428–1429, 1483n26, 1484–1485 appositive 467, 473, 1127, 1127n17m, 1129–1130 archive 7, 161, 163, 177, 436n10, 690, 750, 790, 809–816, 1159, 1191, 1269, 1284n14, 1520n3, 1537–1538, 1547 – of Dene language and culture 878 – of Siouan language 1463 – of Tutelo songs 1461 article 16–17, 220–221, 503–504, 562, 622, 814n8, 961, 962–963, 1076, 1186, 1284–1285, 1485n28, 1488–1495, 1492–1493, 1494, 1497 articulatory phonetics 3, 6, 39–58 aspect 50, 73, 176, 213, 217, 277–278, 422, 428, 583–587 assimilation 172, 851–852, 851n10, 1115, 1171, 1451, 1453, 1461

1696 

 Index of subjects

atomicity 528, 528n2, 531, 533–534, 537, 538, 540–543 attributive – adjectives 905–906 – construction 336, 1497 – emotional/physiological states 473 – modifiers 1076, 1080, 1496–1497 augmentative 467, 470, 1120, 1267 augmented reality 799 autonym 471–472, 471n10, 1117n3, 1634 auxiliary 208–209, 221, 267, 270, 276–277, 361n8, 939, 1096, 1098–1099, 1205, 1303, 1324–1326, 1339, 1559, 1565–1567 basic number 1374, 1375 Bayesian phylogenetic methods 677 benefactive 1152, 1153–1155, 1233, 1260, 1480 bilingual mixed language 647–648, 658, 660–661 body-part terms 456–458, 461, 464–465, 467, 469, 1023, 1082, 1207 borrowing 461–462, 647–650, 654–656, 1228, 1339, 1346–1347, 1350–1351 calquing 325, 341, 461–462, 1172, 657, 1354 cardioid microphones 9, 10 case 862n17, 1337–1339 – accusative 257–258 – ergative 258 – nominative 257–258, 358 – possessive/genitive 340 case marker/case marking 193, 220, 287, 316–318, 357–358, 558, 863, 1030, 1152–1158, 1152–1155, 1157–1158, 1160, 1232, 1239–1240, 1259–1260, 1319–1321, 1526, 1527–1529, 1580 categorization 44, 49n3, 65, 207–208, 217, 225, 230, 388, 394, 459, 544, 591–593, 1152, 1239 causative 636, 757, 1081, 1086–1087, 1094–1095, 1315, 1428, 1430 character-based phylogenetic comparative methods 677 child-directed speech 741–742, 743–746, 747–750, 750–751 circumfix 1083n13, 1186 classificatory incorporation 1427 classificatory verb 212, 463, 480, 537–541, 541n10, 914, 1020 classifier 503, 535–536, 537–541, 1020 clause 175, 196–197, 349, 373, 1296

– complement 335, 347–348, 353, 355, 358, 373, 643, 908, 1186, 1186n8, 1323, 1500–1502, 1504–1505, 1620 – conditional 350, 855, 1039, 1494n35, 1504 – relative 216, 219, 232, 323–341, 348n2, 374, 1105–1106, 1296–1297, 1495–1499 clause chain 375–376, 580, 1217, 1593 clitic 74, 187, 184–185, 190, 192–193, 192n7, 195, 208, 220, 222, 298, 352, 559–560, 992, 994–995, 1027–1028, 1037, 1096, 1100–1101, 1343 coalescence 127–128, 936, 1101 co-articulation 21, 50, 158, 169 collective number 1313, 1313n14, 1551, 1561, 1562 collocation 459, 468, 480–481, 544, 622 common ground 609–611 compensatory lengthening 1175 complement 39, 146, 176, 332, 335, 369–371 – adjunct vs. 346–347 – clause 335, 347–348, 353, 355, 358, 373, 643, 908, 1186, 1186n8, 1323, 1500–1502, 1504–1505, 1620 – syntax of subordination and 345–361 – types of 347–348 complement clause 335, 347–348, 353, 355, 358, 373, 643, 908, 1186, 1186n8, 1323, 1500–1502, 1504–1505, 1620 complementizer 332–333, 350–351, 907, 908, 1500, 1504n42 completive aspect 519, 1100, 1550–1551 compositionality 453–454, 474, 938 compound 79, 189, 189n3, 198, 358, 464–465, 627, 1073–1074 – incorporation and 889–892, 993 – of nouns 1555–1556, 1583 – from nouns to affixes 623–624 compressed recording 8–9, 10–11, 11n4 concessive 299, 350, 351 concordancer 481, 482n3 conditional 350, 855, 915, 1039, 1494n35, 1503, 1504, 1551 conjunction 346, 352, 370, 374–375, 461, 907–910, 1214, 1505, 1508 conjunct order 290, 423, 976–980 connective 363, 370, 1001–1002, 1073, 1216 connotation 283n1, 308, 641, 1076, 1121, 1562 constituent 329, 337n11, 941, 995, 1238–1239, 1354, 1500, 1618–1619



constraint 73–78, 146, 161, 173, 185, 189, 399, 487, 1124, 1186 constructionalization 466, 473, 492 content question 283–284, 286–288, 302, 1036, 1133, 1185, 1619 contrastive 68, 78, 310, 312, 894, 937, 1043, 1173–1175, 1188, 1256 conversational implicature 599–600, 601–606, 614 conversational repair 436, 438, 440 conversation analysis 436–442 coordination 48, 189, 192, 346, 359, 369, 374–375 coreferent/coreferential 855, 863, 1088, 1234, 1240, 1550 corpus 208, 230, 425, 481, 482n3, 544, 745, 800, 814, 1187, 1194, 1231, 1351, 1472, 1521, 1627, 1636 cosubordination 359 counterfactual 592, 1287, 1504, 1535 count noun 527–529, 532–537, 542, 544 creaky voice 23, 25, 27, 42, 44, 89, 97, 98, 138, 104, 1607 creole 462, 658, 952, 1115, 1537 cumulative denotation 532 dative 1124, 1154, 1378, 1378n17, 1380–1383, 1421, 1428, 1476, 1585–1586 decolonization 767, 769–772, 773 decomposition 471, 491 default-to-opposite stress 1044 definite 212, 220–221, 313, 315, 332–333, 622, 656, 941, 962, 1076, 1186, 1439, 1475, 1492–1495, 1497, 1501 demonstrative 221, 222, 340, 532, 534, 552–553, 554–558, 892–895, 963–964, 1155, 1581 denominal 457, 468 deontic 294, 587, 590, 1213 derivational morphology 224, 230–231, 235, 237, 286, 453, 456, 468, 480, 483, 514–515, 519, 520, 523, 530, 630, 636–637, 798, 815, 869, 938–939, 1178, 1262, 1286–1287, 1312–1313, 1315, 1336–1337, 1477 desiderative 1025, 1283, 1535 determiner 199, 216, 332, 340, 527, 961–963, 1032–1033, 1075–1076, 1497, 1499, 1501–1502 devoicing 97, 116, 866, 1174, 1176, 1407, 1412, 1606 diachrony 63, 80–82, 135, 220, 627, 642, 707, 812, 1224–1225, 1521 diacritic 4–5, 69–70, 77, 867, 1205

Index of subjects 

 1697

dialect 49, 53, 80, 90, 148, 167, 358, 485, 693–696, 770, 794, 800, 812, 844–845, 862, 1067 dialect leveling 696 dictionary 17, 454, 474, 479–493, 795–798, 800, 812, 816–817, 869, 884–887, 934, 1194, 1242–1243, 1456–1457, 1466, 1510, 1537–1538, 1547, 1567–1568, 1595–1596, 1604 different-subject 1267, 1322, 1390, 1530–1531 digraph 866, 1177, 1243, 1606 diminutive 27, 110, 121, 125–126, 129, 470, 749, 1070–1072, 1081, 1146, 1279–1280, 1337, 1376 directional 235, 548–554, 657, 1238 – adverbs and 900–901 – prefixes 1069, 1123, 1126 – suffix 1169, 1178–1179, 1263, 1326 direct object 257n13, 258, 316, 864–865, 1088–1089, 1123–1124, 1130, 1384, 1588 discontinuous morpheme 1417, 1419 distributive number 1425 ditransitive 656, 757, 1085, 1123, 1148–1149, 1378, 1383 dormant language 689, 691, 807–808, 817, 818, 1252, 1269, 1348, 1350, 1461 dual number 1232, 1338, 1344, 1374 durative 216, 233, 371, 514, 586–587, 856, 1174, 1181, 1551, 1559 ejective 23–25, 27, 42, 55–57, 57n8, 94–95, 99, 989, 1228, 1278 ELAN 16, 429, 430, 431, 433 electropalatography 55 elicitation 161, 166 – direct 161, 325, 341 – materials and techniques 11–13 – sessions 12–13, 611, 657, 1194 enclitic see clitic – emphatic 390 – negative 75, 276, 916 endearment 470, 635, 1076 endonym 1519n1, 1546 endoscopy 51–53 epistemic 213, 389, 438, 498–499, 505, 587, 588–592 ergative-absolutive alignment 258, 260–261, 316, 748, 750, 861–863, 864, 1000, 1124–1125, 1155, 1524, 1526 ethnonym 1546 etymological799, 852, 1106 etymology 485, 654, 956, 1637

1698 

 Index of subjects

evidentiality 213, 297, 359, 389, 422–423, 497–509, 591, 641–643, 1027, 1237–1238 exclusive 217, 233, 310, 638–640, 970, 1149 existential 267, 1037, 1105, 1558–1559 exonym 472, 1448n1, 1456n8 felicity judgment task 498–499, 501, 507–508, 523 first language acquisition 877, 933 first person 100, 122, 289, 291–292, 358, 1530, 1532–1534, 1584 – exclusive 638–640, 1260, 1615 – inclusive 638–640 focus 11, 13–14, 76, 174, 175, 222, 288, 305–309, 310, 311–312, 314–315, 1437 formant 8, 14–15, 19 formulaic 389, 454, 474, 482, 817, 1146 frequency 621–622, 638, 643 – high, 330n7, 460n9, 1248n1, 1477 fronting 311–313, 522, 1005–1006, 1060–1061 function word 191, 207–209, 219, 649, 907–910 fundamental frequency 97, 137–138, 147, 157, 159 fusional morphology 1261, 1371 geminate 56n7, 113–114, 144, 586, 851, 1177, 1229, 1465 gender 285, 298, 316, 656, 942, 1076 – animacy and 961–962 – association of verbs 1562–1563 – based variation 706–707 – grammatical 961, 1076, 1121, 1128, 1131, 1545, 1560–1562 – nouns 1337–1339 genericity 516 genitive 253, 256, 1152–1153, 1155, 1233, 1321 geo-mapping 789, 791, 798–799 gerund 1539 given information 175, 308–310, 319, 1428, 1436–1437 glottalization 15, 18, 23, 25–27, 55, 56, 66, 93–95, 98, 115, 655, 663, 751, 989–990, 1071, 1059, 1522 glottochronology 677 grammaticalization 209, 220, 237, 270–271, 276, 461, 492, 643, 1184 grammatical relations 208, 211, 213, 248n2, 341, 678, 848, 907, 1523 grammatical word 184, 189–191, 196–197

habitual 109, 111, 465, 586, 813, 1237, 1487 harmony 100, 186, 883, 1065 – sibilant 1275, 1279, 1283 – vowel 99, 158, 186, 937, 1142, 1145, 1159, 1225 headless relative clause 329, 330n7, 331–334, 337, 341 head-marking 253, 536, 1075, 1488, 1488n30 head noun 199, 323–325, 326–328, 890–891, 1498 hortative 289, 291–292 iamb 117, 120, 144–145, 148, 1227, 1230 ideologies – community 707 – conceptual 455 – language 436–438, 472, 702, 704, 710, 771, 1247, 1361, 1461, 1621 – variationist 704, 708 idiom/idiomatic 454, 469, 473–474, 480, 696, 1134 illocutionary force 1430 immersion 42, 613, 720–722, 744–745, 773, 775–776, 778–781, 818 – language 720, 773, 776, 779, 869, 1218, 1306, 1354, 1356, 1409, 1452, 1568 – school 721–722, 775, 1218, 1354, 1356, 1452, 1622–1623 imperative 72, 81, 267–268, 277, 283n1, 289–291, 297 295, 299–300, 302, 608, 980–982, 1210 imperfective 128–129, 131, 290, 295, 515, 586, 1070, 1536–1537 inalienable possession 255–256, 963, 1233, 1259, 1491, 1554 inanimate 470, 503, 941–942, 961, 1374–1375 – gender 1562, 1565 – nouns 1337, 1564 – transitive verbs 942, 967, 971–972 inceptive 587, 1071–1072, 1078 inchoative 216, 584, 584n10, 587, 1069–1070, 1564 inclusive 291, 970, 1121, 1421, 1421n9 – first persons 638–640 incorporation 188, 319, 468–469, 794, 860–861, 889–892, 1427, 1437 – noun 623, 627, 630, 750, 757–758, 1083, 1264, 1483, 1601, 1616–1618 indefinite 523, 656 – articles 220–221, 962, 1492–1495 – distributive 521–522 – negative 279–280 – pronouns 279–280, 916



Indigenization 745, 833 Indigenous – communities 39, 48, 51, 58, 89, 434, 444, 682, 767, 769, 770, 775, 777, 780, 792, 795–796, 826–830, 1053, 1172 – knowledge 443, 563, 568–569, 767–768, 828 – languages 3–4, 16–18, 40, 49, 53, 63, 313–319, 421, 500–505, 702, 767, 829, 1451, 1621 indirect object 326, 1123–1124, 1130, 1321, 1378, 1384, 1585 infinitive 335, 356–357, 813, 1439 infix 120, 122, 1069–1071, 1078, 1265 inflection 73, 211, 224, 227–230, 271, 272, 275, 276, 283, 285, 293, 295, 311, 314, 316, 351, 360, 480, 529–536, 749, 885, 939, 1325 inflectional morphology 214, 221, 859, 937, 1206, 1287–1292 instrumental affix 1071, 1154, 1204, 1171, 1223, 1235, 1263, 1478–1479 1483n26 insubordination 229, 441, 1039, 1187n9 intensity 15, 24, 137–138, 145, 441, 1469 interjection 470, 487, 892, 910–911 interlinearization 886, 893, 895–899, 901–902, 904, 905, 907–910, 913, 916–917 International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA) 3–6, 11, 15n6, 17, 43, 90–91, 138, 956, 1218, 1256, 1522, 1578, 1605 interrogative 223, 279, 285–288, 355n5, 1084, 1133, 1134, 1185–1186, 1325, 1473–1474 intonation 3, 12, 18, 28–30, 147, 156–160, 174, 1176, 1231, 1473 – boundaries 165–168 – characteristics 1472–1474 – information structure and 175–176 – sentence intonation 12 inverse 944–945, 972–975, 1372, 1374–1376, 1380 irrealis 291, 296, 1297, 1469, 1475, 1486, 1503, 1532, 1533, 1535 isolate 440, 513, 514, 673 – language 95, 123, 533, 535, 577, 742, 744, 1169, 1247–1271, 1519 – neighboring 276–277 iterative 73, 76, 517, 587, 996, 1266

Index of subjects 

 1699

jussive 289, 292–293, 294, 302

L1 4, 13, 21, 741–746, 1408 L2 13, 21, 771, 985, 1442 language documentation 4, 427, 430, 455, 474, 481, 690, 823n2, 1189n10 language maintenance 31, 320, 830, 868–870, 877–878 language nest 721–722, 745, 779, 1006, 1218, 1298, 1349, 1351, 1622–1623 language reclamation 427, 481, 486, 690, 691, 769–777, 1013, 1015–1016 – archival materials for 807–818 language revitalization 3, 13, 30, 41–42, 104, 131, 426–427, 495, 744–745, 808, 824, 1159–1162, 1409 – digital tools for 789–803 – research and efforts 1298 language shift 160, 481, 676, 697, 743, 745, 778, 808, 845–847 language vitality 492, 706, 790, 986, 1159, 1621 laryngeal 15, 23, 25, 52–53, 162, 1226, 1229, 1370, 1606–1608 laryngoscopy 51–52 length 15, 27, 90–91, 149, 167, 1043 – consonant 113, 114 – vowel 27, 70, 73, 113, 114, 882, 1226–1227 lexical affixes 197–198, 480, 628, 1024, 1082–1085 lexical aspect 581, 583–585 lexical category 207–208, 211–219, 853–859, 1257–1266 lexical tone 168–172 lexicalization 453–474, 473–474, 458–459, 455–462, 462–473, 488–492 lexicalized 228, 230, 234, 457, 465–466, 472–473, 632, 1021, 1418 lexical semantics 455n4, 471, 492, 519, 914 lexicography 479–493 lexicostatistics 677 lingua franca 423, 650, 651, 654, 659 linguistic area 460, 642, 661–663, 1248, 1347, 1552 literacy 479, 775, 877 loanword 461, 465–466, 470, 654, 655 locative 98, 191n5, 219, 548–549, 630–631, 860, 1153, 1263 long-distance reflexive 378

kinship terms 456, 472, 492, 748, 889, 1001, 1234, 1235–1236, 1259, 1268, 1310 kymograph 56–57

mass noun 536, 538 metaphor 404, 459, 626, 637 metathesis 111, 1073, 1311, 1572n3

1700 

 Index of subjects

metonymy 459, 464–467, 1311 mirativity 508, 604 mixed language 149, 532, 658, 660, 951, 952 modality 213, 587–593, 1211–1214 monosemy 453, 474 mood 165, 213, 277–279, 285, 290, 339, 592–593, 1093, 1211–1214, 1534–1537 morphological complexity 460n9, 466, 633, 966, 1151 morphological template 1480 multilingual 638, 642, 647–649, 696–697, 770, 1172, 1247–1248 multimodal speech perception 11 mutation 995 nasal 5, 44, 56, 91–95, 98, 882–883, 958, 1465–1466, 1481, 1579, 1589 negation 267–269, 271–273, 277, 279–280, 293, 357–358, 902, 1036, 1104–1105, 1131–1132, 1186, 1215, 1291–1292, 1619 negative evidence 234, 507, 544 neologism 815, 1299–1301, 1489, 1572 new information 175, 249, 308–310, 318–319, 1436 nominalization 197, 236, 275, 335–340, 354, 354n4, 467–468, 1069, 1081, 1093, 1099, 1103, 1296–1297, 1297–1299, 1299–1301 nominative 257–260, 316, 1525 nominative-accusative 259–260, 316, 1525–1526 non-compositional meaning 293 non-configurational 1182 non-finite 276, 335, 1500 North American Phonetic Alphabet 4 noun 207, 211–212, 230–236, 527–545, 541–543, 623–624, 853–854, 892–895, 1001–1003, 1079, 1080–1082, 1127–1131, 1152–1155, 1232–1234, 1316, 1317, 1319, 1374–1376, 1337–1339, 1474–1485, 1488–1495, 1489–1490, 1523–1528, 1555–1556, 1583, 15182 noun class 211–212, 1129, 1374–1376 noun incorporation 468–469, 757–758, 860, 1264, 1617–1618 noun phrase 961–966, 1034–1036, 1075, 1488–1495 number 159, 211–213, 392, 529–536, 969–971, 1237–1239, 1264, 1365–1366, 1374–1376 numeral 513, 522, 531–532, 534–536, 903–905, 1214–1215 object 864, 1123, 1525 – agreement 352–353

– direct 257n13, 258, 316, 864–865, 1088–1089, 1123–1124, 1130, 1384, 1588 – indirect 326, 1123–1124, 1130, 1321, 1378, 1384, 1585 oblique 1031, 1076, 1090, 1105, 1153, 1233 obviative/obviation 49n3, 317, 377–378, 943–944, 964–966 onomatopoeia 470, 754 opacity 456, 463, 466 open source 790, 790n1, 794 optative 293, 295, 297 orthography 5, 16, 63, 66, 68–69, 958–959, 1046 palatography 53–55 paradigm 285, 290, 352, 505, 578–581, 970–975, 980, 1033, 1103, 1492 participial 633, 1337, 1421, 1439 particle 221, 268–271, 293, 350–351, 1039, 1132, 1498 part of speech 193, 206–207, 338, 460 passive 208, 642, 650, 757, 1040, 1040n17, 1261, 1384n22 patient 216, 287, 639, 1085–1086, 1090–1091, 1232, 1233, 1239–1240, 1533–1534, 1584–1585, 1615–1616 pedagogy 11–13, 21, 46, 50–51, 471, 484, 491, 772–777, 1021, 1172, 1276–1277 perfect 586, 1551, 1616 perfective 73, 223, 278, 585, 886–887, 939, 1077–1078, 1176, 1214, 1236–1237, 1339, 1536 person hierarchy 945, 974 person marker 994, 1123–1124, 1530, 1550, 1585 pharyngeal 50, 53, 93, 1041–1042, 1059–1060, 1062, 1064–1065, 1278 phonaesthemes 470 phonation types 15, 52, 97, 103 phrase final 166, 1231, 1467, 1485–1486, 1548 phylogeny 673, 677, 683, 1252 phylum 673 pidgin 647, 650–651, 654, 658–661, 952 pitch accent 64, 161, 1175, 1231, 1257, 1370, 1471, 1473, 1612 pitch contour 15, 16, 24–25, 29, 31, 63, 1613 pitch pulses 15, 24, 25 pluractionality 211, 511–525 plural 110, 119, 123, 128–129, 211, 513–516, 530–532, 854, 973–975, 995–996, 1022, 1236, 1258, 1313–1314, 1316, 1338, 1423–1425, 1582, 1587–1588



polarity 9, 293–294, 1185 polar question 283, 284–286, 301, 1132 polysynthesis 196, 309, 318–319, 742, 859–861, 1016, 1416 portmanteau 370, 889, 1032, 1262 positional/directional 537, 549–551, 555, 679, 1020, 1069, 1557–1559 positional verb 537, 555, 917–918, 1557–1559 possession 212, 228, 249–250, 253–256, 263, 340, 865, 889, 963, 1233, 1286, 1319, 1553–1554 postposition 208, 287, 558, 620, 897–898 Praat 15–16, 65, 68, 156 practical orthography 1054, 1118n4, 1202, 1257, 1312–1313, 1522 preposition 1076 presentational 394, 1558–1559 preverb 210, 210n2, 212, 358, 1417–1418 proclitic see clitic progressive 209, 514, 583, 793, 1065 prohibitive 277, 293, 301–302 prosody 28–30 – beyond the word 155–177 – language contact and 149–150 – prosodic contour 440 – word-level 3, 17, 18, 27, 135–150, 159, 174, 1175 prospective aspect 586, 1180 proto-language 658, 1225–1226 pro-verb 376 proximate 49, 49n3, 317, 943–945 pseudo-passives 757 punctual 72, 514, 813, 855, 856–857 purism 708, 791 qualifier 467, 905, 1034 qualitative 15, 162–163, 171, 1473, 1628 quantifier 221, 512, 522–523, 527, 532, 535, 1493 quantitative 14–15, 162–163, 677, 681, 715 question 29, 170–171, 193, 198, 283–302, 681–682, 1004–1006 – content 286–288 – embedded 347–348, 355–356 – polar 284–286 – words 1132–1134 realis 274, 579n2, 592, 1241, 1317n20, 1422, 1476, 1504, 1535–1536 reduplication 109–132, 146, 395, 400–401, 456, 470, 516–518, 521, 524, 579n2, 748–749, 995–996, 1021–1022, 1022n6, 1034, 1045, 1059n5,

Index of subjects 

 1701

1066, 1068, 1070–1072, 1072n15, 1077, 1078, 1081–1082, 1181, 1205, 1207, 1218, 1235–1236, 1248, 1257–1258, 1261, 1264–1265, 1275, 1279–1282, 1282n9, 1310, 1313, 1338–1339, 1559–1560 – reduplicant 116–118, 121, 125, 127, 586, 1070–1071, 1207 reference time 371, 578–581 reflexive 378, 854, 1090, 1378, 1491, 1507 relative clause 216, 219, 232, 233, 323–341, 348n2, 374, 467, 1105–1106, 1296–1297, 1495–1499 – internally headed relative clause 328, 334, 374, 1497–1498 – non-restrictive relative clause 324 – relative pronoun 325, 330–331 – restrictive relative clause 323, 325, 326 – right-headed relative clause 327 relative tense 580, 1180 repetitive aspect 118, 1551 request 283, 284, 289, 294–296, 298, 302, 307n1, 601 same-subject 359, 361n8, 1267, 1324, 1390, 1530, 1592 scholar-practitioner 772, 773–774, 781, 1021 Second Language Acquisition 658, 697, 767, 769, 770–773, 776, 1064 second person 289–290, 291, 295, 302, 336, 360, 607, 756, 972–973, 978–980, 1000 semantics/semantic 188–190, 453–454, 464–466, 500–501, 507, 898, 917–918 – semantic category 811, 816, 914, 1485 semelfactive 515, 519, 1181 shift-induced influence 656 sociolinguistic variation 689–698, 701–710, 1268 software 6, 8, 10, 47, 56, 68, 429, 433, 481, 790, 790n1, 792, 794, 794n7, 797, 1042, 1520, 1539 specificity 211, 461, 915, 1249, 1258, 1289, 1440 spectrogram 15, 16, 68, 137–138 speech community 485, 638–643 stative verb 467, 472, 1382, 1469, 1496–1497, 1499n39, 1508–1509, 1545, 1552 stop 27, 43, 48, 81, 92, 94, 97, 102, 425, 849–850, 1413 storyboard 12 stress 142, 173–174, 960, 1066–1067, 1230–1231 – complex words and 992–993 – fixed stress 140 – foot 112, 117–118, 1121, 1203, 1207

1702 

 Index of subjects

– lexical 1205 – metrical structure 145–146 – patterns 1044 – penultimate 140, 142, 146, 148, 1145–1146 – penultimate stress 140, 148, 1146, 1257 – phonetic correlates of 136–138 – primary stress 136, 149–150, 1066–1067, 1230 – rhythmic stress 136, 143, 145 – secondary stress 136, 960, 1145, 1483 – structure 144–146 – trochaic 117, 118, 136, 144–146, 1072 – trochee 117–118 – typology of 138–143 – weight-sensitive stress 140–141, 142, 145, 1257 subjunctive 278, 643, 1093 subordination 229–230, 275, 331, 336, 345–361, 346–347, 359–360, 372–373, 1186–1187 subtractive morphology 110, 113, 119–120 suppletion 514, 1536n8 switch reference 271, 273, 351, 359, 363–379, 1215–1216, 1241, 1321–1323, 1592–1593 syllable 17, 26–28, 63, 64, 66, 73, 76, 77, 81–82, 101–103, 116–117, 1044–1045, 1065–1066, 1229–1230 – coda consonant 101–102, 115, 123, 140–142, 867, 936, 1411 – mora 77, 111–112, 113–116 – nucleus 101–103, 113, 135 – onset 101–102, 141, 936, 1463, 1607 – open syllable 66, 140, 145, 162, 1550 – rhyme 82, 110, 113, 119, 166, 167 syncope/syncopation 146, 866, 1230 syncretism 814, 854 synthesis/synthetic 135, 200, 223, 313, 318, 474, 483, 1121 TAM 267, 1339, 1345, 1430, 1431 Teaching Proficiency through Reading and Storytelling (TPRS) 773–775, 781 tense 213, 221, 277–279, 339–340, 577, 578–582, 1078, 1126–1127, 1151–1152, 1180–1181, 1211–1214, 1290, 1534–1537, 1591–1592 third person 229, 261–263, 943, 1033, 1232, 1385 tone 63–82, 176, 1611–1613 – contour 354 – lexical 168–172

– tonal downdrift 1371 – tone bearing unit 74–76, 158 tonogenesis 80–82 topic 8, 29, 305–310, 311–312, 315, 436–438, 1388 toponym 472, 1638 Total Physical Response (TPR) 42, 773–774 translation 171, 234, 307, 310, 325, 330, 355, 361, 391–393, 397, 398, 423, 428, 430, 460n9, 461, 473, 487, 491, 505, 521, 524, 528, 544, 610, 749, 791, 793, 799, 944, 1021, 1025, 1117, 1120n9, 1154, 1217, 1223, 1349, 1361, 1437, 1509, 1523n6, 1606, 1607, 1608, 1632n8, 1635n11, 1636, 1641 – translation equivalent 325, 460n9, 466, 473, 487, 491 transliteration 571, 1612 truncation 119, 1339 turn-taking 427, 440, 441, 443 ultrasound 48–51 uncompressed recording 10–11, 11n4 variation – linguistic variation 1268 – archival-based 689–698 – community-based 701–710 variationist 482, 485, 704, 708, 701n1, 715 verbalizer 468, 1283 verbal number 211, 536–537, 1313, 1313n14 viewpoint aspect 583–584, 585–587 vocative 1148n2, 1154, 1234, 1268, 1320, 1470n20 vowel harmony 99, 158, 186, 937, 1142, 1145, 1152, 1157, 1204, 1225 waveform 15, 16, 161 Where Are Your Keys (WAYK) 42, 774, 775, 781 wh-expression 1185 wh-question 284 word class 195, 205–238, 205n1, 338, 1028n13 – content words vs. function words 207–209 – described 205–206 – issues in 223–236 – locus of categoriality 224–230 – noun-verb distinction 230–236, 1080–1082 – open classes vs. closed classes 210–211 – theories of 206–207 – types of 207–211