April 5, 2007
UW staffer chosen to become a chief within his tribe
This summer Tom Guthrie will be getting a new name, but he’ll still keep his old one. Guthrie, who is a truck driver for the Applied Physics Lab, will become a chief in the Tsimshian nation, and in that role will “hold the name” for his tribe.
The occasion is solemn enough for Guthrie, but is even more so for his nation, as he will be the first to hold the name on the American side for 150 years.
The Tsimshian, Guthrie explains, come from British Columbia, but about 1,000 of them migrated to Alaska in the 19th century. There, they became first isolated from the growing white population around them, and then assimilated into Euro-American culture as their own customs were repressed. Children in his grandparents’ generation were not allowed to speak the native language, so it has almost died out, and Guthrie’s great-great grandfather was the last to hold the name among the American Tsimshian.
Guthrie grew up in Alaska and learned some of the traditional stories from his grandfather. But his grandfather, who remembered well how the stories had been suppressed when he was younger, was mistrustful, and stopped teaching Guthrie before he entered his teens.
“I didn’t feel whole,” Guthrie says of his youth. “I was not connected with my heritage.”
The Tsimshian are divided into clans, Guthrie explains, with lineage going through the mother. He is a member of the Eagle clan, and because he didn’t know much about his own culture, he married another Eagle, which goes against tradition. That marriage didn’t work out, and 25 years ago he married a member of the Raven clan.
It was dancing that brought Guthrie back to his heritage. First his oldest son got involved in a dance group; then he and his wife followed suit. But it was really after they moved to Seattle in search of work that their interest flowered. For the last 11 years they’ve been members of a dance group called Haayuuk, meaning spirit.
“It was the feeling of the drums, the learning of our language in the songs that attracted me to the dancing,” Guthrie says. “It made me feel whole because this is part of who I am.”
The dance group, he says, has traveled all over — performing at places like Disney World and the Eiteljorg Museum of Native Americans and Western Art in Indianapolis. A year ago they held a feast to celebrate their 10th anniversary, drawing 20 dance groups and 2,500 people.
Now that he’s becoming a chief, Guthrie will have to give up the dancing, because in his nation, chiefs don’t dance. He admits that he will “really miss it,” but has already made arrangements for his oldest son, who is an Eagle, to do the Eagle Spirit Dance that he used to perform.
Guthrie was sought out for the chief’s role by his uncle. The last chief, Guthrie’s great-great grandfather, was a Raven, so Guthrie has been adopted into the Raven clan.
“I’ve always wanted to hold a name for our people,” Guthrie says. “It’s a great honor.”
To ready himself for that honor, he has been studying with the chiefs in British Columbia, learning the language, tribal history and most of all, protocol.
“It’s about how I carry myself — being humble, respectful, honorable, and showing love for all in the nation and others,” Guthrie says. “You can’t exclude anyone. You have to sit and listen to what they have to say because everyone has a voice. You have to walk a fine line as a chief because people are always watching what you do and how you carry yourself amongst your people.”
He adds that he has had to “clean his house,” to go to anyone with whom he’s had differences and resolve them. “That way when the name comes, it’s in a good spirit place, where our ancestors, our elders and the tribe will witness it.”
The ceremony will take place at a feast this August in Alaska. Guthrie says the chiefs will first come in and be introduced and seated. Then he is brought in and is seated. Then gifts are passed out — first to the chiefs and then to the community. Guthrie’s regalia is put on and his name is announced and repeated three times. The people gathered then repeat the name three times, thus becoming witnesses. Then Guthrie’s sisters will walk him around the hall three times. Because his nation is matrilineal, Guthrie says, his sisters and his wife will have an active role in helping him to hold the name.
After the ceremony there will be feasting, and on the night following, more feasting and dancing.
The name Guthrie is assuming is his great-great grandfather’s — Wii Hai Waas, which means Great Southeastern Storm. He said he is still researching the origin of the name.
“To us it’s a great honor to hold the name, but we don’t keep it,” Guthrie says. “We pass it on. It goes to the son of your oldest sister if he walks in the right way.”
Guthrie has such a nephew, now 29, who has already been told that he’s next in line.
Meanwhile, Guthrie continues his work in the non-Native world of the APL, where he has been employed for seven years. “They want to throw me a luncheon before I go in August,” he says. “It makes me feel good that they want to do that. I didn’t expect it.”
