Free Lone Wolves by John Smelcer Page A

each family gave Denny’s grandmother an accounting of the number of items they brought. It was Denny’s job to catalog everything and add up all the numbers. Unbeknownst to her mother, Denny had brought her journal in which to write the figures as a keepsake.
    When the last gift was set atop the mountainous pile, Denny’s grandmother stepped forward to say the hwtiitł kołdogh, the potlatch speech. As was custom, she began by reading the list of all the gifts.
    â€œOne thousand six hundred and twelve blankets, seventy-two boxes of food, fourteen pairs of beaded moccasins, four pairs of sealskin gloves, two snowmobile helmets, two handmade parkas with wolf fur . . .” she read.
    The audience listened, waiting to hear the number of rifles, always a measure of respect.
    â€œ. . . two sets of pots and pans, one box of dishes . . .”
    A little girl ran out across the floor, followed by her embarrassed mother, trying to catch her.
    â€œ. . . two thousand one hundred and fifteen dollars cash . . .”
    Everyone strained to hear the final number.
    â€œ. . . and eighty-seven rifles.”
    Many of the elders leaned back and nodded. Eighty-seven was a good number. They had seen higher, but usually at a potlatch for a chief. Several elders recalled the potlatch for the chief of a neighboring village where over two hundred rifles were offered in respectful memory. It was said that the chief was 117 years old when he died.
    Having read the list of gifts, Sampson’s widow stood and, in her native language, thanked everyone for coming. She spoke briefly about how long they had been married and what a good man her husband had been. She talked about how much he loved his family and how much he loved the wilderness.
    Denny and her mother wept as she spoke, though Delia, like most of the guests in the hall, didn’t understand a single word she said. When the hostess was finished, she gave a similar speech in English, talking about how, when she was a little girl, potlatches used to go on for days and only in the summertime, when it was warm and they could be held outside in a big field. She talked about how there would be tents everywhere.
    Once the speech was over, the handing out of the gifts began. Only members of the family could hand out the gifts to the guests, and gifts could only be given to people who were not related, particularly to those belonging to a different clan, which was determined by the mother’s side. Because of this, Denny was Tsisyu clan, while her father was Talcheena . Knowing who was related to whom was very important. Indians introduce themselves based on kinship, the way some people introduce themselves with business cards.
    â€œI’m so-and-so’s cousin on his mother’s side,” someone might say.
    â€œMy father is such-and-such, who used to be your uncle when he was married to your mother’s oldest sister,” another might say.
    It was the job of the host elder to tell what to give to whom. Denny and her mother awaited instructions.
    â€œGive three blankets, one of them rifles, and fifty dollars to that man there,” she said, pulling money from the thick envelope and pointing to the man sitting patiently, waiting to be recognized properly as a guest.
    Denny gave the gifts to the man, who nodded and quietly said tsin’aen , thank you.
    And so matters proceeded.
    And although kinship is based on the mother’s side of the family, men and women are awarded gifts equally, women receiving rifles as well—though, in truth, not as often as men. Denny’s grandmother also made sure to reward the young men who dug the grave, giving them each a rifle and some money. She also gave a rifle to each of the four pallbearers.
    For almost two hours, the gifts were distributed in such a manner, until the floor was empty and almost everyone in the audience had a neat pile of gifts in front of him. Some of the elder men, especially the ones