Chapter 5 – The ethnography of language and language documentation
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investigating which noun stems would accept locative suffixes directly, and
which required relational noun constructions. I figured a fly could sit on
just about anything, and put a fly in all sorts of absurd places – on the bas-
ket, on the acorns, on the string, on the berries, on the cow, etc., in sen-
tences for Roscinda to translate. She always translated English “a fly,” as et
ku’al ‘that fly’ – the distal-proximal (virtual) fly to which we were both
paying attention. The combination of the presence of et in elicitation and in
reported speech in narrative suggested that its function was “distal, but
within the zone of attention of discourse participants.” On the other hand,
axwesh meant “distal, but not available to discourse participants.” Hence,
et
ku’al, the mutually-imagined fly of the context of elicitation, but
axwesh
isily ‘that coyote,’ a character of the mythic time who appears in narrative.
With my new-found understanding of the demonstratives, I am now able
to more fully understand Roscinda Nolasquez’s goals, and why she was
willing to spend so much time with me. At the time I had completely natu-
ralized the idea that an American Indian community should include only a
few elderly speakers of a heritage language. As far as I could tell there was
almost no interest in the language; Roscinda never mentioned any regrets
about being one of the last speakers, and handled most of her life in Eng-
lish. Indeed, she positively avoided talking to a couple of other women of
her age who were speakers, because she didn’t like them. She called what she
did with me “teaching.” But, looking at my notes forty years later, I could
see that she was trying to accomplish much more: She was documenting,
recording an archive, although she never said as much. And the distribution
of the demonstratives became one of the key pieces of evidence for this.
Roscinda really liked best of all to record stories and histories. After a
couple of months of work, she said that she wanted to tell about how the
Cupeño had moved from their original homeland at Kupa, Pal Atingve, to
their reservation at Pala. This is a dreadful story, of legal machinations by
greedy Whites and a desperate battle by the Cupeño to keep their lands,
which included valuable hot and cold springs in an arid region of San Di-
ego County in southern California. Roscinda was nine years old in 1903
when she and all her relatives were packed into wagons and moved out of
their beautiful village with its sturdy adobe houses and inviting pools of hot
and cold water and moved to Pala, to live in tents in the flea-ridden willow
thickets along the San Luis Rey river designated as their place of exile. She
told the story of the removal on three separate days. On the first day, she
narrated almost entirely from her own point of view, using almost no repor-
tative evidentials. When she resumed again on the second day, she began
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Jane H. Hill
by labelling her talk as a’alxi ‘reciting history.’ In this section and in the
third section, the reportative evidential appears frequently, even where she
is describing scenes in which she played a role (such as the rescue of her
pet cats). On the first day, narrating as a sort of conversational account of a
personal experience, she uses the base eve-, the inflectional base of et, al-
most exclusively for the locatives. That is, even though the places being
referred to are not “in the immediate discourse context,” she refers to them
in the voice of an interlocutor in dialogue with the listener (in this case, me,
Jane Hill), who has been initiated into the world of the narrative and is
taken to share her point of view. But in the second and third telling, the base
eve- is entirely absent, and all references to place are with the base axwa-,
a-, the locative bases of the obviative demonstrative axwesh. That is, in her
second and third telling, Roscinda Nolasquez speaks in the voice of an
“historian”; she animates a tradition, rather than engaging directly with me
as her interlocutor. And it is clear that her descendants recognized what she
was doing. One of the ways that Cupeño have always used their oral tradi-
tion is to borrow lines from it to make songs. And singers today have taken
lines from my recordings of Roscinda Nolasquez’s account of the removal.
When I returned to the community a year and a half ago, I was treated to a
performance of men singing to rattles, and was very moved to encounter a
beautiful new song, composed for the 2003 centennial of the removal, that
used a line that appears in her telling: Peta’amay che’mixani chemtewa$h
Kupangax ‘We lost everything from Kupa.’
In summary, the moral here is that what Roscinda Nolasquez took to be
the mutual goal of the community of practice that we formed in the sum-
mers of 1962 and 1963, to document her language and its traditions, shaped
even very fine details of her speech. In elicitation, where the sentences
would have no historic significance, her demonstrative was et. In reciting
texts where the sentences would have historic significance, she used obvia-
tive axwesh. So the notion of the community of practice teaches us that the
ethnography of language in documentary linguistics must take as its site for
study not only the organization of diversity in the speech community, but
also organization and patterning that is emergent, including emergent in the
context of elicitation and language learning itself.