LISTEN
Roger Fernandes, a Native American storyteller and member of the Lower Elwha Band of the SāKlallam Indians (Port Angeles area) spins the traditional story “Lifting Up the Sky.”
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Lifting Up the Sky
gŹ·Él bÉɬshigŹ·Éd cĢÉɬ kŹ·i bÉkĢŹ· Źi gŹ·at.
As told by xŹ·qidÉb, William Shelton, extended by the Lushootseed Department, and posted on the Hibulb Cultural Center website.
A long time ago, when all the animals were still human beings, the sky was very low. It was so low that the people could not stand up straight. Every time they tried to do so, they would bump their heads. They called a meeting together and discussed how they could raise the sky, but they were at a loss how to do so. No one was strong enough to lift the sky.
Finally, the idea occurred to them that possibly the sky might be lifted by the combined efforts of the people if all of them pushed against it at the same time. But then the question arose of how it would be possible to make all the people exert their efforts at exactly the same moment. For the different peoples would be far away from one another. Some would be in this
“Lifting Up the Sky,” Artwork by Hik Stubs (Jasob Gobin), a member of the Tulalip Tribes
part of the world, and some in another in another part. What signal could be given that all people would lift at precisely the same time?
Finally, the word yÉhawĢ was invented for this purpose. It was decided that all the people should shout yÉhawĢ together and then exert their whole strength in lifting the sky. In accordance with this, the people equipped themselves with poles. Everyone was included in the effort, even the smallest birds and insects. These little people would climb on the backs of the bigger people and raise their poles from there. When the time came, the people all braced their poles against the sky and then all shouted yÉhawĢ in unison. Under their combined efforts, the sky rose a little. Some animals got longer poles. The little people climbed up on top of each other to get higher. Again, all the people shouted yÉhawĢ and lifted the heavy weight. They repeated this until the sky was sufficiently high. Just before the final push, the little songbirds, sensing that success was near, began to sing, throwing their songs high up into the air.
This story explains the origin of the custom of shouting yÉhawĢ when a number of people want to exert their combined strength in performing some strenuous work. The force is supplied in unison upon uttering the last syllable, which is drawn out very long and the pitch of which is much higher than that of the first syllable. The word is used today when some heavy object, like a canoe, is being lifted. Today, this word is considered a Lushootseed word because the people have made good use of it.
After the sky had been lifted, everyone felt relieved. It was good to know that even the sky could be lifted by everyone working together, from the smallest to the biggest. But then, after a while, people noticed that there was no birdsong in the air. It seems that when the sky was pushed up that last time, the birdsongs in the air were pushed up with it and got stuck there.
All of the birds had a meeting. All of the most powerful birds with the biggest wings volunteered to fly up and try to get the songs back out of the sky. The Great Horned Owl flew up, but he could not even get close. All the different Hawks, Falcons, and Eagles flew up with all their might, but none of them could make it. Little Winter Wren, the smallest bird, then said, “I think I could do it.” The big-winged birds all just looked at her. “How could a little thing like you do what all of us canāt do?”
Only the Bald Eagle said, “Let us listen to her plan. She sees things from a different point of view.” The Winter Wren said that she would get on the back of the bird who could fly the highest and then take off from there and see if she could get even higher. Bald Eagle said, “It is worth a try. Climb on my back.” He took off and flew way up into the highest reaches of the air just below where the sky world starts. Then Winter Wren flew off, up as far as she could go. It was just a few feet, but it was enough for her to close her claws around the songs where they were stuck in the sky and pull them loose. She and the songs were carried back to earth on Eagleās back.
When they landed on Earth, all the birds with big wings were embarrassed. Little Winter Wren started to hand out the songs. All the little birds, her relatives, got beautiful songs. (After all, she was only human.) The medium-sized birds got good enough songs. When it came time for the birds with big wings to get their songs, only croaking and honking and shrieking ones were left. That is why none of the big birds has a pretty song today. Only the Eagle got a pretty song. He understood that everyone, no matter who they are, can make a difference, and he gave Winter Wren a chance to prove herself. That is why if you hear him today, he makes a sound like a small bird, almost like a chirping, and it is very nice to hear. When you hear him, you might remember this story and its teaching. And you might remember that yÉhawĢ belongs to our language. That is the end.
GROWING UP WITH THE STORY
Źu, gwÉlapu, haŹÉ¬ slÉxil. Mary Jane Topash tsi dsdaŹ tulĢŹal ÄÉd dxwlilap, sduhubÅ” ÄÉd
By Mary Jane Topash
Mary Jane Topash, Tulalip Tribes, Assistant Director of Cultural Education Initiatives at the Burke Museum. Photo courtesy Burke Museum
My name is Mary Jane Topash. I am Tulalip with Snohomish ancestry. I was grown and raised on the Tulalip reservation, 30 miles north of Seattle, and continue to live there today. I am the youngest of four children and am the only one that was raised fully enveloped in my culture. My siblings are older and had learned our culture as they were older or an adult.
As for me, it is all I know.
My father lived off the reservation, in Montana, most of his life and came back to Tulalip when the Tribe was beginning to grow and there were more employment opportunities. This created a unique situation where I was teaching him about our culture as young as 5 years old when typically, itās the other way around. Traditionally itās your grandparents, your aunties and uncles, your parents who teach the necessary traditions, stories, lessons, cultural etiquettes, etc. Since my familyās path wasnāt a traditional one, I found myself sharing stories, the Lushootseed I had learned, protocols, etc. with my parents and siblings.
My favorite story I had learned when I was little is called Lifting Up the Sky. It is a Tulalip story about how a long time ago the sky used to be low. So low that people and animals would walk bent over. You couldnāt stand upright. Constantly bumping into the sky. After some time, all the animals and people decided they wanted to stand tall and knew they needed to lift the sky. They all gathered together and began to take poles and lifted together.
It took four tries and on the fourth attempt the sky was lifted to where it is now. Everyone rejoiced and was
happy that with everyoneās work, determination, and collective action they were able to accomplish something to better all of their lives.
This is a very condensed version of this story and there are multiple layers to this storyāas many tribal stories doābut this one always stuck with me. I always think of my community and tribe and how it takes everyone to work together. I think of all the people, cousins, family, parents and siblings who have helped lift a pole in my own life to get me where I am now.
Read more from our storytelling project:
Learning txŹ·ÉlsĢucid and telling the stories
Living, breathing, working for my culture
The Chicken and TwoĀ Scorpions
A family of Moths: Recreating The Moth StorySLAM at home
āOut of my heart a story will come: Storytelling in schoolsā
Why do we tell stories around the fire?
