SUBALTERN NO MORE A DECOLONIAL FANZINE
This project has been funded by the Swedish Saami Parliament Saemiedigkie lea beetnehvierhtiejgujmie dåårjeme Sámedigge la ruhtadam dáv prosjevtav Sámediggi lea ruhtadan dán prošeavtta
SÁPMI 2.0 w GÏELE-PLAERIE SAEMIDE | GIELLA ÁVIISA SÁMIIDE | GIELLATIDNIK SÁMIJDA | GIELLATEÄKSTTA SÄMIJDE | GIELLATJÁLAGA SÄMIJDA
SISDOALLU NR1:S 2015 MEATTÁHUS .............................................................................................................................................. 4 ENDANGERED LANGUAGES ................................................................................................................. 5 SCANNING THE MEDIA – PART 1 ......................................................................................................... 6 THE LIFE OF LANGUAGES ...................................................................................................................... 7 DECOLONISING MYSELF ........................................................................................................................ 9 THE LINGUISTIC BATTLEFIELD ............................................................................................................ 11 A CULTURE CHALLENGE: PART 1 ....................................................................................................... 12 SÁPMI WRITES BACK: PART 1 .............................................................................................................. 13 TEORIJE .................................................................................................................................................... 19 SCANNING THE MEDIA: PART 2 ......................................................................................................... 21 A CULTURE CHALLENGE: PART 2 ....................................................................................................... 23 SÁPMI WRITES BACK: PART 2 .............................................................................................................. 24 NOTES FROM A MESSY DESK ............................................................................................................. 29 DÁLKKAS GIELLABÁKČASA VUOSTÁ ................................................................................................. 30 METHODS ................................................................................................................................................ 31 SAEMIEDEHTEDH ................................................................................................................................... 32 ÁNNE GOLMMAOKTALAŠVUOHTA ................................................................................................... 34 JÅHHAN GOLMESÏEMESVOETE .......................................................................................................... 34 A CULTURE CHALLENGE: PART 3 ....................................................................................................... 35 GIELLASUTTUID BIIGGÁ DOVDDASTUS ........................................................................................... 37 A CULTURE CHALLENGE: PART 4 ....................................................................................................... 39 MINNGEMES BIELIE ............................................................................................................................... 40 A FANZINE FOR SAAMI BY SAAMI CONTRIBUTORS: May-Britt Öhman, Katarina Hällgren, Heaika Wollberg, Anton Axelsson Westerberg, Peter Steggo, Ingolf Kvandahl, Sarakka Gaup, Sophia Rehnfjell, Juho Keva, Neeta Jääskö, Sergey Gavrilov, Anne Wuolab, Johan Sandberg McGuinne We have chosen to not proofread this magazine on purpose. Our languages are alive, and sometimes they’re not perfect. Today, most people don’t write in Saami for fear of making mistakes or using nonstandard words. This is detrimental to the survival of our languages and as a result, we have decided to not censor, correct or change anything written by our contributors.
SÁPMI 2.0 w GÏELE-PLAERIE SAEMIDE | GIELLA ÁVIISA SÁMIIDE | GIELLATIDNIK SÁMIJDA | GIELLATEÄKSTTA SÄMIJDE | GIELLATJÁLAGA SÄMIJDA
MEATTÁHUS love to talk about mistakes. The ones others made. The ones we made. When it comes to language revitalisation, the entire discourse is centred on negative things, rather than on what could, and indeed should be done in order to bring back a language, and as long as we continue to play the same broken record on repeat, we will not get to a point where our languages are natural parts of our everyday lives, and used both in public as well as in the more private sphere.
Sometimes when I watch the Saami news, Ođđasat, I get upset that I don’t understand what they’re saying. But then I ask myself, ‘whose fault is it really? And who can change this situation’ and then I tell myself, I have to learn my language. Let’s do it!
Learning a language takes time. It is something that demands practice, as well as dedication. Whenever a language is endangered, the sacrifices that have to be made are even bigger, not because the relative level of complexity of any one specific language, but because reclaiming something that which has been denied you and your ancestors is something that can be incredibly painful.
The only wrong thing you can do is to do nothing.
Bargat juoidá dálkkádat rievdadeami vuostá ja olmmošvuoigatvuođaid ovdii, lea buoret go ii dahkat maidege. Muđui leat jo vuitohallan. —
Because of the fact that so many Saami feel ashamed when they have to talk about their languages, and instead of rejoicing in the fact that they have something at all to say about it, this fanzine wants to be a part of a movement that focuses on a playful, positive use of our languages in our everyday lives, and as such we have opted to reject the colonial languages of the states occupying our homelands in favour of our own languages alongside English as a way to connect with a global decolonial movement.
Giella ovdáneapmi, leago: 1. Paragráfat (eiseválddit) 2. Ruhta (suohkanat) 3. Dulkkat ja jorgaleaddjit (ámmátolbmot)? —
Inga Laila Hætta
SÁPMI 2.0 w GÏELE-PLAERIE SAEMIDE | GIELLA ÁVIISA SÁMIIDE | GIELLATIDNIK SÁMIJDA | GIELLATEÄKSTTA SÄMIJDE | GIELLATJÁLAGA SÄMIJDA
ENDANGERED LANGUAGES Languages, give or take, are spoken in the world today. Of these a mere handful have become global power languages with hundreds of millions of speakers, whereas the world’s average language, let’s call it Medianese, has between 5500 and 6000 speakers.
According to most linguists, Medianese has a slim chance of survival in today’s neocolonial world; come 2100, between 5095% of all languages on our planet will have died unless something drastic happens.
A language becomes endangered when it loses power to another language because of colonialism, a strong belief in homogeneity and the perpetuation of lies about the advantage of globalism.
A language with a relatively large number of speakers can be endangered, as is the case with the Celtic languages in the UK, whereas a small language can flourish if it has political, social and cultural power, as is the case with e.g. Icelandic in Iceland. Only 3% of all languages originate from Europe, whereas 33% of all languages can be found in Asia. This is primarily a result the formation of nation states in Europe.
By creating states, European monarchies relied on the eradication of differences between people in the areas they controlled and by emphasising an arbitrary allegiance to an invented nation state, promoted by a ‘common language’, most European states managed to make every language but the ones used by Europe’s governments endangered.
Linguists often emphasise the importance and normality of language change and to speakers of majority languages, the advantage of speaking English, Spanish or e.g. Hindi often seems more valuable than speaking what to the majority seems like an obsolete language. A language functions both as a communicative tool and as a cultural, historical and sociological vehicle, and as such the loss of a language equals the destruction of a unique way of conceptualising the world. The monoglot majority often fails to see language as anything but a communicative system when the reality is that all forms of language is situated and thus related to the history and very core of a people.
FAQ: THE SAAMI LANGUAGES There are 25-35, 000 speakers of 9 Saami languages who live in Sweden, Norway, Finland and on the Russian Kola Peninsula. Less than 30% of all Saami can speak a Saami language, and only 15% of all Saami are literate in their own language. All Saami languages stem from the same Proto-Samic language and belong to the Finno-Ugric family. All Saami languages are considered to be endangered or highly endangered. The languages belong to a dialect continuum but are not always mutually intelligible. BIELIE 5 SÁPMI 2.0 w GÏELE-PLAERIE SAEMIDE | GIELLA ÁVIISA SÁMIIDE | GIELLATIDNIK SÁMIJDA | GIELLATEÄKSTTA SÄMIJDE | GIELLATJÁLAGA SÄMIJDA
SCANNING THE MEDIA – PART 1 Listen to the people who have grown up immersed in their Saami culture. More often then not, they’re elders. You have to listen to languages. It’s better to listen to how the elders in your area express things, than trying to translate things word by word. I’m always finding myself in situations where I think, oh, that’s another way to express it. Even though I’ve been immersed in the language for so long, I’m still learning. A language can be compared to a life, both have strict borders and endless possibilities.
Mov lea voelpe daesnie Johkemehkesne. Gosse manne diekie juhtim dle satne jïjnjem saemiesti munnjan. Jïh manne die domtim ‘wow! gåerede amma saemiestidh jeatja almetjigujmie enn dah gïeh mov slïektesne.’ Guarkajim maam satne jeehti bene aalkovistie idtjim sïjhth dan jïjnjem jiehtedh saemien gïelesne. Bene satne jis jeehtie ‘Jis sïjhth mannine soptsestalledh dle tjoerh saemiestidh!’ Manne ajve, okay, åh! Jïh dle eelkim saemiestidh.
— Pekka Sammalahti, Nuorat (03.2011) The Swedish government’s treatment of its own indigenous people is a joke, and I stopped laughing 25 years ago. But it would be easy to blame others and think that it would solve everything. Change has to happen, and I will start by changing myself.
— Naina Helén Jåma Wigdahl, Nuorat
Ben Yehuda initiated a remarkable revitalisation process and after 50 years of hard work, Hebrew had once again become a living language, after having been dormant for nearly 2000 years. What does this teach us? Well, it teaches us that as long as you have the will to save a language, it can be done, even if it is on the brink of extinction. Furthermore, our Saami languages are in a much better position than Hebrew was [when Yehuda started revitalising it] some 200 years ago. This tells us that if we really want to, we can make Saami the first language of thousands if not millions of people.”
— Pávva Pittja, Nuorat (01.2015)
Eat mii leat vuolláneame. Mii leat luvveme iehčamet ja gávdname min iežamet sámi sielu. — Tobias Poggats, Nuorat (01. 2015) Dahta mierij, dat la degu ilmmenuoske-dimij, e vuojnnu, valla hapsijdi ja vájkudi mijáv ihkeve ålov, degu dálla ja guhkkásit.
— Staffan Palopää, Samefolket, 11/2001
— Pia Sjögren, Nuorat (04.2014)
THE LIFE OF LANGUAGES GIELLABIOGRAFIIJA Ánddá Juhán Nils Pedera Ánne // Čiske Iŋggá Ánne Gástanam m a: Anne Kristin Gohčoduvvo: Ánne ja Anne Riegádan: Vuosttaš ruoktu:
Narviika (Áhkánjárga). Melkedalen. Giláš Bálát suohkanis, Nordlánda.
Vuosttaš giella ruovttus: Nubbe giella:
Sámegiella (davvi). Dárogiella, ohppen ránnjáin golbma jahkásažžan.
Ovllajohka, Bálát suohkanis. Sámegiel- ja dárogiel ránnját.
Bállágis 1.-6 . luohkká. Ohppen lohkat ja čállit čieža jahkásažžan. Oahpahus- ja vuosttašgiella: dárogiella. Eŋgelasgiella goalmmát luohkás. Fitnen ”vahkkosaš sámeskuvlaoahpus” oktii jagis 1-3. luohkás.
Tromssa sámeskuvla, Málatvuomis, 7.-9. luohkká. Internáhttaskuvla. Oahpahus ja vuosttašgiella: sámegiella. Dárogiella nubbigiellan. Eŋgelas- ja suomagieldiimmut. Loahppaeksámenat: Sáme- ja dárogielas. Internáhtas lei sámegiella váldogiellan. Málatvuomis lei dárogiella váldogiellan.
Kongsbakken videregående skole: Tromssas. Oahpahusgiella dárogiella. Sámegiella nubbingiellan. Eŋgelasgiella ja ránskagiella. Ruovttugiella sámegiella. Eksámenat: Dárogiella ja sámegiella. Norgga journalistaallaskuvla:
Oslos. Oahpahusgiella dárogiella. Dárogieloahppu.
Rom ssa universitehta:
Fonetihkka ja gielladieđalaš álgokursa.
Ubm i universitehta:
Dávvisámegiella A ja B.
NRK Sámi Radio:
Kárášjogas. Eahketkursa espánnjagiella.
Ubm i universitehta:
Jagit 1996-2000, 2004 ja dássážii:Ealán ruoŧagiel birrasis.
“dolastallat” Eòghan Èiric Martuinn S. Mac Guinne ‘Ic Phàdraig ‘Ic Sheòras ‘Ic Sheumais ‘Ic Iàin Laavkom e-nom m e: Johan Erik Martin Sandberg McGuinne Leab gohtjesovvem e: Johan, Josse, Eòghan, jah Jåhha Reakeds-sijjie: Ubmeje Voestes gåetie:
Röbäck, Ubmejisnie / Faamoemaarhke, Vännäs tjïeltesne
Voestes gïele gåetesne:
Daaroen jah englaanten gïelh. Aajja gon’ aahkijste naan saemien baakoeh. Aehtjie aaj gaelo-gïeleb soptsesti.
Gaske-nasjovnen maanagïerte Röbäck’sne 1-4 jaepiej gaskem. Lohkehtäjjah daaroen, englaanten, spaanien jah persien gïelh ööhpehtin. Lïerib lohkedh gosse lib 4 jaepien båeries.
Gaske-nasjovnen aarhskuvlesne Ubmejisnie, 5-6 jaepien gaskem. Ööhpehtimmie-gïelh: daaroen jah englaanten gïelh.
Waldorf-skuvlesne, Linköping’sne, 7-9 jaepien gaskem. Ööhpehtimmie-gïele: daaroen gïele. Änggårds-skuvle, Lambohov’sne, 10-13 jaepien gaskem. Ööhpehtimmie-gïele: daaroen gïele. Låhkoeh englaanten jah tysklaanten gïeline. Berzelius-skuvle, Linköping’sne 14-16 jaepien gaskem. Ööhpehtimmie-gïele: daaroen gïele. Låhkoeh englaanten jah tysklaanten gïeline.
Gaske-nasjovnen Jåarhkeskuvle 16-19 jaepien gaskem, Linköping’sne, Brighton’sne, jah Murrhardt’sne. Ööhpehtimmie-gïelh: Englaanten, daaroen jah tysklaanten gïelh, låhkoeh spaanijen jah fraankrïjhken gïeline.
Ööhpehtimmie-gïelh: englaanten jah tysklaanten gïelh. Låhkoeh bakeries tysklaanten gïelesne.
Portugal’en gïeleb lohkib.
Ubm eje Universiteehte
Åarjelsaemien gïeleb lohkib.
Albert Ludwigs Universität
Freiburg im Breisgau, Tysklaante. Ööhpehtimmie-gïele: tysklaanten gïele. Låhkoeh irlaanten gïelesne.
Stirling, Skotlaantesne. Ööhpehtimmie-gïelh: englaanten gïele, scots-gïele jah gaelo-gïele.
Liksjosne årroeminie. Englaanten, saemien jah daaroen gïeli tjïrrh veasoeminie. Pryövoeb aaj gaeloe-gïeleb tjaeledh jah soptsestidh.
Decolonisation is my slow struggle to claw back the language and culture of my ancestors and by reclaiming my languages, I reclaim a bit of myself from the Swedish state that used eugenics and racist laws in order to try to permanently erase it from existence.
mother was a storyteller and a keeper of languages; she in turn had got her stories from her parents, and whenever my mother couldn’t take care of me, my grandparents would.
Together they raised me to be an independent individual, and I often think back on the better days of my childhood and realise that I had a lot more freedom than most other children. It made me stronger, it protected me when I grew up and much of my sense of self stems from the cultural beliefs passed on to me by my mother and grandparents.
I have read a lot, and education has been my main focus for the greater part of my life. Despite this, I do not see decolonisation as an academic discipline, but as my life. Decolonisation is a process in which colonised people challenge their oppressors by and for themselves. There is no need or time to centre settlers in a decolonial movement. I guess whatever settler academics may have to say about colonialism is all valid and fine on some level, but their understanding of our lives is theoretical as opposed to lived, and thus largely useless. This does not mean that one shouldn’t read settler academics, on the contrary.
Decolonisation to me is not so much about a struggle for political power or some symbolic transfer of rights from settlers to us as it is about the legal, moral and undeniable recognition of indigenous rights and the process coming to terms with one’s own identity. It is the very act of unlearning centuries of silently accepting colonial oppression and to speak out against the theft of our lands. Decolonisation to me is the embodiment of my people’s voice through music, poetry and art, it is the revitalisation of our language, it is a simple but powerful statement; we are still here, we are not invisible, we are the Subaltern who refuse to remain voiceless.
In order to challenge norms, you need to speak the language of the oppressor, as well as your own language. You will be at your most successful when you are standing firmly rooted in your culture, whilst at the same time being well versed in the majority’s rhetoric.
“áldu” My mother always said that in order to challenge someone you needed to speak their language, while standing firmly rooted in your own tongue.
As speakers of an endangered language, we are rarely asked what we’re doing to enrich, challenge and reinvent our language, we are instead asked what we are doing to protect and save our language. Seeing as, to the majority, our language is already dead, it cannot be vibrant, it can only be clawing its way back to a more or less boring existence.
I took this as an encouragement to become a teacher, focusing on authenticity and indigeneity through the medium of art and literature. Both art and literature centres communication, and in doing so, they form the pillars of what I envision decolonisation to be.
Decolonisation is of course political as well, but I picture decolonisation to first and foremost be the resurgence of our cultures, where settler politics don’t have a role to play, at all, and decolonisation can only be successful when we start to listen to our own elders and women, who in many ways embody that which is our maadtoe in the first place.
When you’re indigenous or a member of a minority, everything you do becomes a political statement, but decolonisation refutes the idea that we as indigenous and/or POC have to constantly act in a way which benefits or even acknowledges the settler. We are rebuilding ourselves, and in doing so, we are denying settlers the right to define what it is that makes us who we are.
We don’t need academics or politicians to tell us who we are.
Decolonisation is an ongoing process. To this day, I’m still learning and I am eternally grateful to my teachers.
— Johan Sandberg McGuinne
THE LINGUISTIC BATTLEFIELD BEAIVEGIRJI: MU MÁNÁID SÁMEGIELA
sii barget ovdánahttit eatnigiel oahpahusa ja erenoamážit sámegiela, mii lea álgoálbmot- ja našunála minoritehtagiella.
OAHPAHUS RUOŦA SKUVLASYSTEMAS. 2016
Reflekšuvdna: Suohkan ipmirdišgoahtá sámi hálddašansuohkana sisdoalu ja gáibádusaid.
Ođđajagemánu 18. b.: Rymdgymnasa rektor čállá e-poasttas, ahte sii áigot gulahallat nubbi joatkkaskuvllain Gironis sámegiel oahpahusa birra. Čilge, ahte ovtta oahppái sii eai sáhte addit sámegiela oahpahusa.
2012 Borgemánu 28. b.: Boarrásut bárdni lohká sámegiela B-giellan iige eatnigiellan.
Reflekšuvdna: Mu bárdni dasto ferte vuordit vaikko Giron lea sámi hálddahussuohkan.
Jurdda: oahpahusas lea oahppoplána, gáibádus ja geahččaleamit. Árvosátnái šaddá deaddu.
Ođđajagemánu 8. b.: Mun logan skuvllaid sámegiel kursaplána ja fuobmán, ahte dál sáhttá lohkat sámegiela vuosttaš giellan gitta 9. luohkkái!
Njukčamánu 6. b.: Bártnit bohtet skuvllas ja muitalit ahte váldooahpaheaddji šikkui sudno hupmat sámegiela gaskaneaskka friijakoartilis šiljus.
Fuomáš: Dássážii lea dušše sámegiella leamaš vuosttašgiellan Sámeskuvllain 6. luohkkái.
Reakšuvdna: Dál sii rihkkot buot lágaid mat ledjet; ON olmmošvuoigatvuođaid rájes gitta báikkálaš ja skuvlla siskkáldas bargonjuolggadusaide.
Geassebottas guđát ja čihččet luohká gaska sámi mánná lahppá iežas giela stáhtusa vuosttašgielas eatnigiellan.
Borgemánu 30. b.: Sámegiel oahpahus lea eatnigiella oahpahus ja ásaiduvvo fásta diimmuiguin. Čoavddus lea oastit gáiddusoahpu Árbordde skuvlla bokte danne go davvisámegiel oahppaheaddji váilu.
Suoidnemánu 1. b.: Mu bárdni ja suohkan eai šat lobihuša go oažžu sámegiel gáiddusoahppun. Skolverket dohkkeha gáiddusoahppu virggálaččat. Ovdal dan lei sáhtte skuvllat sáhkkohallat. Mearkkašahtti: Ovcci jagi lea mu bártnit dihtor bokte oahpahallan sámegiela. Árvosánit leamaš buori.
Mearkkašahtti: Suohkan váldá oahpahusa duođas.
Čakčamánu 6. b.: Eatnigiel oahpahus váilevaš ja soaittáhagas. Mu čoavddis galledit Guovdageainnu mánáidskuvlla guktii jagis. Geavahan buot sudno friddjabeivviid dasa.
Golggotmánu 24. b.: Nállevealahanáittardeaddji, DO, galleda Likšu suohkana moddii jagis oahpaheamen nállevealaheame birra ja dárkkisteamen mo
A CULTURE CHALLENGE: PART 1 Dát
lea vuorbespeallu mii bidjá oasseváldiid fuomášit ja vásihit giela ja kultuvrra ođđasit ja eará ládje. Ná lea speallu: juohkehaš bargosajis galgá vuorbbi geassit juohke dahje juohke nuppi vahkku. Vahkku maŋŋil de muitala vásáhusas. Heivvolaš áigi muitalit sáhttá leat bearjadagaid gáfestallanbottus. 1. Loga juoidá maid Inga Rávdna Eira lea čállán. 2. Loga juoidá maid Nils Aslak Valkeapää – Áillohaš lea čállán. 3. Loga juoidá maid Elle Márjá Vars lea čállán.
4. 5. 6.
Čáles divttaža. Čáles beaivvegirjjáža. Čáles novealla.
7. Daga filmmaža iežat birra mobiilatelefovnnain. 8. Gulaskutta mii lea mielbargiid favorihttafilbma. 9. Čáles filbmaárvvoštallama. 10. Guldal podcast filmma birra. 11. Geahča filmma mii lea ráhkaduvvon du guovllus. 12. Iskka mii du fylkka/leana birra gávdno YouTube.com 13. Searvva valáštallamii. 14. Gulaskutta sámi valáštallansáŋgára birra. 15. Sihkkelaste báikkis, gilážis/gávpogis. 16. Daga njoarostangilvvu ustibiiguin/ ruovttobáikkis.
17. 18. 19. 20.
Oahpa ođđa valáštallama birra. Čáles movttidahttima. Bora nisugohttá mas lea reahkasaláhta. Máistte juoga ođđasa.
21. Máles sámi biepmu. 22. Máles gohponeare máli. 23. Hutkka ja čáles málestangirjjáža ránnjáiguin. 24. Vuošša mielkemáli. 25. Geahča ja gallet nuorajtv websiiddu.
SÁPMI WRITES BACK: PART 1 JURDDA
ANTO N SUBSTAM E
Oktii, go olbmot vánddárdedje máilmmis, de oidne guokte lotti mat girddašedje. De jurddašedje olbmot, ahte sii háliidedje maid girdilit. Dat jerre Bieggaolbmás jus sii sáhtte oažžut soajaid, nu ahte sáhtte girdilit. Muhto Bieggaolmmái ii háliidan. Son dajai, ahte olbmos lei áiddo juoidá buoret. -Na, mii dat lei?, jerre olbmot.
Leä Dálvvie, abs lahka Likssjuo, ståbuone, guektte ålmah man namma leägan Per jáh Lars, dållub fäddet. Ulgguone leä balvas, gåra dálkkie sjáddá. Jávriene Per jáh Lars viermijde ádnieveägan, dan biejvieb tjuovruoveägan viermijde duoradit. “Ib sijth vuölggiet dággáre dalkiene”, Lars jahttá
Bieggaolmmái ii vástidan. Son báicce manái albmái ja muitalii:
“Ij genna månnna”, Per jahttá. Nå se lijkan Per jáh Lars jávrráje vuölggieveägan.
Jus dii háliidehpet soajaid, boađe ja gávnna mu.
Gåssie miehtsane tjaŋŋaveägan dálkkie tjåsskaminne, beägga bussá. Ij nágen gulieh leä dábbrame.
Olbmot álge dalán hukset stuorá toartna, muhto dat ii goassiige olahan albmái. De huksejedje sii girdinmašiinnaid. Muhto go ollejedje balvvaide de gulle sii Bieggaolbmá lávlumin, -Allábut, gal dieppe mun gal ii leat!
Gåssie gåhtáje vuölggieveägan gualdduo sjaddá, ájmmuo. Per jáh Lars leägan tjajjáname! Die såj leägan álggieminne muohtkluguob gåjvvuot, kluggan sissnie årrájeägan.
De fertejedje olbmot hukset stuorá rakeahttaid boahtit VEL allábut. Ja doppe, mánu ja násttiid luhtte vurddii Bieggaolmmái. – Sáhtátgo DÁL addit soajaid?! Jerre olbmot sus. Bieggaolmmái dušše mojohalai, ja dajai: - Ehpetgo dii ipmir? Din jurdda ja fantasiija lea buktan din guhkit go maid mu soajat goassege sáhtte dahkat!
Árraden leä tjábbábe dálkkie, Per tjálmieh ráhppá jáh mab vuöjná? Jijtjane ståbuob vuöjná.
”Lars, muonnh gussnie måj leän!” ”Månna ednub danne deävva leä dåbdduolis”, Lars jahttá.
— Heaika Wollberg, 14 j.
Per tjájmádimmen. — Anton Axelsson Westergren, 11 j.
“gaaltije” MY IDENTITY AS A SPEAKER OF SAAMI My understanding of myself as a speaker of North Saami does not accurately reflect the reality. You see, if you ask me, I consider myself to be a speaker of North Saami. The language forms a natural part of me that I couldn’t possibly consider giving up. This is rather peculiar in a way, as I neither speak nor write North Saami. Or, I can read texts written in Saami, and I am a fairly confident speaker – if I have to speak. But I rarely do.
As a teenager I started to question myself. Could I really claim that I’m a speaker of Saami, even though I understand everything and I don’t even notice when people switch between North Saami and Swedish around me? During my 15 years at Samefolket, the question became even more important. You see, I understand everything a speaker of North Saami says, but my answer is always in Swedish. I wasn’t the only one questioning myself; is a language really yours if you don’t speak it? Why would you answer in Swedish, really? How odd isn’t that, when you think about it?
Ever since I learnt how to speak, North Saami has played an ever-present and natural role in my life. My mother has primarily spoken North Saami with me. I grew up in the tiny village of Myrheden, in Västerbotten, where I spent my two first years in school before completing the rest of my studies in Jörn. I wasn’t offered lessons in Saami, of course, and neither my mother nor I seemed to question this. If anything this was the norm in the 1980’s. It was only much later that I realised that some children got to attend the Saami school where they were given a chance to study their languages, an opportunity denied other Saami children. This was life back then, and sure, you might question it, but the harsh reality is that you can’t get anything that isn’t on offer in your own hometown. At the same time I’ve never made an effort to study Saami on my own as I got older.
I have no straight-forward answers. It’s just been like this for a long time and I don’t envision it changing anytime soon. Maybe other people find it much more strange than I do. Of course they do. To me, it’s always been the most natural thing. Lately, however, I’ve become more aware of the strangeness of it all. In Sápmi it’s not enough that others speak Saami and I reply in Swedish. As soon as they hear me speak Swedish they code-switch as well and then we’re both being actively colonised by the Swedish language. I realise that change has to start with me. No matter the current situation with regards to my language, my Saaminess forms a vital part of my identity and it fills me with an immense sense of pride. I’ve often thought about answering in Saami and not just think about myself as a speaker of Saami to myself. Not today. But maybe tomorrow.
Through the years, I have often been asked if I can speak Saami. ”Of course” has been the obvious answer every time, even though I’ve been answering my mother in Swedish since before I started school.
— Katarina Hällgren
” лоаннҍт” njálmmálaččat ja čálalaččat. Goit árgabeaivvis birgegoahtán ollu buoret go ovdal. Muhto in dieđe sihkkarit goas dát áigi lei álgán. Vaikko leat ge ollu maid galggan vel oahppat, de aŋkke duoid sániid dahje fágasániid haga dassážii birgen bures. Fágasánit leat dat mat gullet várra eanemustá boazodollui. Dát lea vissa diet stuorámus fádda maid lea oalle čiegus ain munnje.
“SON II GULIID FIDNE GUHTE II JULGGIIDIS NJUOSKAT” Mun lean Sergey. Várra 2008 jagi rájes go orun Guovdageainnus, váccán Sámi allaskuvla, gos logan dál bachelor sámegielas ja girjjálašvuođas. Maiddái bargan sámegiel aviissas Ávvir journalistan. Muhto davvisámegiella lea mu nubbi giella. Ovdal go boahtit Guovdageidnui máhtten muhtin dajaldagaid davvisámegillii. Sámi allaskuvla, Guovdageaidnu, Kárášjohka, Beskenjárga, sosiála mediat, festiválat ledje arenat gos ohppen ja lean ain oahppame davvisámegiela. Mus ii leat áidna ja čielga vástádusa dasa man dihte álgen oahppat giela. Dalle go vázzen skuvlla Lujávrris ja dasto go vázzen universitehta Murmánskkas de álo duollet dállet deaivvadin sápmelaččaid NorggaSuoma ja Ruoŧa bealde Sámi. Muhto álo imaštallen dasa manne bat mii galggaimet gulahallat dulkka bokte dahje eŋgelasgillii? Gulahallan lei várra dat stuorámus ágga dása ahte álgen ohcat álgogursii sámegielas man lágidit Sámi allaskuvllas. Nu dát álggii mus guhkes ja oalle mohkkái oahppomátki.
Giella lea dehálaš. Gulahallan lea dehálaš. Muhto gulahallat bures lea vel deháleabbo ja mávssoleabbo go beare gulahallat. Danin vissa in leat bissánan giela oahppamis ain. Muhto baicce joatkán viidásit oahppat giela.
Dál dieđán bures ahte ollu sánit ja grammatihka maiddái davvisámegielas ja gielddasámegielas lea ollu seammá vaikko ollu lea ge guovttelágan. Mus lea leamaš nuoraidskuvllas Lujávrris muhtun ráje oahpahus gielddasámegillii. Muhto geavai beare nu ahte otná beaivvi mielde máhtán ollu buorebut sihke čállit ja hupmat davvisámegillii go gielddasámegillii.
Maŋŋá álgogurssa mus lei čielga govva ahte: “mun máhtán sámegiela!”. Muhto áiggi mielde lei viehká čielggas: “Dát lei beare illušuvdna.”
Dagan go mun boastut go in oahppa gielddasámegiela ovdal davvisámegiela? Soaittán dagan, muhto dát lea beare nu. Muhto in eahpit dan ahte muhtun beaivvi boađášin dása ahte oahpan muhtun ráje gielddasámegiela, giela man
Mađi guhkit áiggi, beivviid, mánuid, jagiid orron dán beal rájá, dáđi čielgasit lei govva oaivvis ahte: “vissa in goassige oahpan davvisámegiela albma ládje.” Muhtumin in diehtán sáni mearkkašupmi, muhtumin lei muđuige váttis ipmirdit olles bihtá sisdoallu ságastallamis dahje girjjis. In áiggo dadjat ahte dát lei álo nu. Áiggi mielde dieđus šadden gusto ollu čeahpit sámástit sihke
Sámegiella lea váttis, muhto seammás dát buktá mihá eannet go dušše vejolašvuođa gulahallat.
máhtte mu áddjá, áhčči, áhkku ja eará fuolkkit. BIELIE 15
I NEED YOU AND YOU NEED ME You give me wings to fly You’re my eyes, my ears and my map in the sky
Nu mo namuhin jo de lean barggus journalistan sámegiel áviissas Ávviris. Dat ahte lean barggus Ávviris oainnán ja árvvoštallan buori vejolašvuohtan buktit, čállit muitalusaid, ođđasiid earret eará ruovttoguovllus, Lujávrris ja muđui ge Guoládatnjárggas sápmelaččaide geat ásset dan bealde rájá. Dieđus dan áiggi leat iešguđet ge gáldut ja čállosat vaikko man gillii. Ja vaikko sápmelaččat dan beal rájá leat gielalaš olbmot ja máhttet ollu gielat, de jáhkán dása ahte lohkat, guldalit, geahččat muitalusaid sámegillii main leat earret eará eamiálbmot perspektiiva lea ollu suohttasit ja buoret go lohkat seammá muitalusaid eará gillii.
When I got to know you my history made more sense, I saw my life with another lens You brought me joy and the hard work, it’s worth every pence My legacy now feels secure but I´m still dreaming and hoping for more - the more the merrier, that´s for sure
Danin oaivvildan ahte in heaitte čállit ja hupmat sámegillii go oaivvis leat vel ollu jurdagat ja muitalusat maid áiggošin ovdanbuktit áiggi mielde.
I need you and you need me
My father’s voice is dancing with words once again found I am happily tossing them around
Čálli giehta ollá guhkás
You´re useful around heels and ties I always feel I'm in the right size
— Sergey Gavrilov
But sometimes I silently cry when I think you may die
SÄMIKIELÂ Ovdil ko kurssâ aalgij, lijjim jo oppâm sämikielâ:
Shadows from the past haunt and trap us Concealed minefields petrify us
äijih jurbâ l mon suomâkielâ oomâš
ááhu potkânâm celkkuuh
siähánâm siämmáásullâsiih säneh
Sometimes it feels like I am in the TV and someone pressed ”mute” I lose control and need a parachute I put my fears behind and make my voice shout, I can't see myself without
Ko jieš sáárnum, ko stavâleh kokkâseh čuddui ige jienâ čuojâ tegu tunnust addiim veikkâ jiem addii
Because I need you and you need me The language is not out of sight, it´s our birthright.
Tegu maađijroobdâst nuurâm läpittum saanijd adelâm tunnui maassâd
We need you and you need us — Sophia Rehnfjäll
— Neeta Jääskö
THE NEW ALPHABET
Min giella lea kollapsen, gahččan čoahkkái.
alfabetaid dása lassin erenoamáš sámi bustávat. Min giella lea bieđganan. Čállin ja lohkan ii leat álbmoga ja ovttaskas olbmo hálddus šat.
Ii eará ládje sáhte ipmirdit dan. Guorahallamat ja statistihkat muitalit dan. Dutkit ja giellačeahpit veahkehit min ipmirdit daid ságaid maid leat gávdnamis virggálaš raporttain. Sámi vuosttašgiela hállit leat vátnon, ja dát goit ii leat rievdán maŋemus 50 jagi.
Munno árvalus lea háhkat čállinvuogi mas leat buot jienat. Moai njulgestaga árvaletne ođđa sámegiel alfabeta. Oktiibuot 39 jiena. De ii dárbbaš go ovtta čállinvuogi, go grammatihkka han gal jo gávdno, sihke syntáksa, semantihkka ja morfologiija.
Čállingielat leat máŋga ja rievdadallet dássedit. Muhtun giellaprofessor fuobmá mo sámegielaid sáhttá sirret ja čájehit erohusaid. Son čoavdá gielalaš čuolmmaid ja iežas nama biddjo čállinvuohkái. Go oahpahallagohten čállit ja lohkat sámegiela 1980 jagiin lei várra Friisa čállingiella dalle. Muittán deaddomearkkaid mat galge sániide. Go dat nohkke, de ii galgan dássemolsašumi leat šat. Ja á biddjui eret muhtun áigái, muhto iđii goit fas. Dál dat orrot bisánan dieiguin rievdadusaiguin. Ja rievdadusain ledje namat gielladutkiid mielde, lei go Magga, Helander, Grundström vai Bergsland? Ja in dieđe gean gáimmi čállingielat mis dál leat.
Mis leat sátnegirjjit, oahpahanvuogit ja digitála veahkkereaiddut. Mis leat giellaprofessorat geat leat jierbmái ja geain lea luohttevašvuohta gálget ođđa čállingiela duhkiid.
Mis leat guhtta dohkkehuvvon čállingiela ja moadde mat eai leat. Eará sániiguin dadjat: hupmat ožžot, muhto ii fal čállit.
аӓбвгдеёжз'һийҋјклӆмӎнӊӈопрҏс туфхцчшщъыь ҍэӭюя
a âá äåb cʒǯdđ efgǧǥh iïjkǩlmn ŋoõöp rsštŧ uvz ž A ÂÁ ÄÅBC ČƷǮDĐ EFGĞǤHI ÏJKǨLMN ŊOÕÖPR SŠTŦ UVZ Ž
Eai leat lohkkit min giela čállosiidda. Váidalus lea skádjan guhká. Lohku galle lohkki leat, omd girjerádjosiid dieđuid mielde, cuvke giellabargiid čállinmiela. Lohkanmáhttu ja čállindáidu láveba giehtalágaid vázzit, vaikko nubbi skierbmu dahje guossala. Jus galgá lea lohkki ja čálli olmmoš Sámis, de ferte hálddašit moadde čállinvuogi ja nu maid máhttit sihke latiinnalaš ja kyrillalaš
JEĐĐEHUS SÁMI VÁIMMUIDE Giella le fábmo. Giella le fábmo ja mijá fábmo le dat. Gå gielav buktá, de dat aj vaddá moadda máhttelisvuodajt. Juohkka bargo aktijvuodan, radion, tv:an, jårggå-liddjen ja sadjásasj åhpaliddjen li muv giellamáhtudagá lähkám ájnnasa, daj baktu lev dieki jåvsådam.
In other words, when you’re asked to explain why your language is important to everyone else but your own community, focus is shifted from the act of speaking and reclaiming it to a point where we’re too busy defending the use of it to nonspeakers from outwith our own communities to actually have the time to, indeed, use it.
— Maret Steinfjell, Nuorat
If, however, the question we ask each other is why a language is important to ourselves on an individual level, we’re forced to think critically about our own personal relationship and commitment to our languages, rather than to spend time on coming up with tired platitudes that don’t seem to have any real impact on language policy makers and politicians anyway.
Languages are decisive in how we place ourselves in this world, they are our most important resource and they determine how we go about with our daily lives, meaning that when we lose our languages, we lose ourselves.
Being asked why your language is important, period, is taxing, and a microaggression.
Despite this, we are often asked to explain why our languages are important to the world as a whole, not just as a personal capital that we are keen to keep and pass on to our future generations, and our answers become repetitive and pointless after a while; this is because the question in itself misses the point entirely. In order to revitalise a language, we should not be asked to justify its worth to others, but to think critically about what it means to ourselves.
Asking yourself why your language is important to you, however, is an act of empowerment. It gives you a clear idea of what role your language plays in your own life, and without knowing this, any attempt at reclaiming your language will be futile.
TEORIJE Decolonising oneself and others signifies the very act of breaking free from a way of thinking, of conceptualising the world signified by oppressive power structures that have benefited Western hegemony on behalf of the discrimination of indigenous peoples around the world.
Decolonisation is frequently represented as something academic, and often confused with a Western representation of postcolonialism, when the truth is that decolonisation is what happens in our communities on a daily basis, far away from an academic Ivory Tower. To settler communities, decolonisation is an interesting debate to be had over a glass of white w(h)ine, to the rest of the world, decolonisation is life.
Decolonisation cannot thus, and should not be compared to any other human rights struggle, by doing so the point of decolonisation is distorted by the very discourse it seeks to challenge.
As such decolonisation – in a Saami setting the verb sámáidahttit can be used to represent the same thing – represents the reclamation of lands, of languages and of the establishment of numerous self governing bodies working with and for an indigenous group from within. Decolonisation then manifests itself in a multitude of different shapes, ranging from something as simple as the reclamation of a parent’s name, to the establishment of immersion schools, to media channels operating on terms laid down by indigenous groups and ultimately to declare independence, both physically, mentally and symbolically from a colonial power.
Today decolonisation has become one of the most important tools in an indigenous person’s survival kit. Western society has worked hard to disconnect us from our own communities by denying us a sense of history, language and belonging – this all forms parts of the colonial process which seeks to replace our identities with those of the settler – and we will remain colonised for as long as we internalise the rhetoric used by settlers to dehumanise and disarm us.
At the same time decolonisation as a term has been hijacked by scholars and politicians alike and is frequently used to institutionalise the actual process of decolonisation in terms laid down by an academic sphere ruled by the very hierarchies indigenous peoples seek to be decolonised from.
In not questioning the rhetoric which claims our children will be better off learning the settler language first or indeed instead of our indigenous languages, we internalise the colonisation process. By reclaiming that which was stolen from us, we empower our communities and lead them on a road to recovery.
A MESSAGE FROM OUR ELDERS är äldre, och har en gåva att ge. Vi önskar att ni vill ta er tid att ta emot den. Vi kan tillsammans vägleda våra yngre i samiskt förhållningsssätt. Ta Er tid att vara, att lyssna och lära!
Galgá atnit árvvus olbmo gii oahpahallá sámegiela. Dat lea stuora ášši, go muhtun rahča hupmat du giela.
Som äldre, träffar du någon som vil lära sig språket, Saemesth/ prata samiska med dem! Uppmuntra dem, säg att du är stolt över dem som håller på att lära sig språket. Vi är stolta. De som lär sig, ger oss äldre mod och kraft.
We are elders, with a gift to pass on. It is our wish that you take the time to accept it. Together we can guide our younger ones on a path of Saaminess. Give yourself the time to be, to listen and to learn!
I 150 år har man sagt att sydsamiskan kommer att dö ut, men än talas vårt språk. För att någon ska tala det efter vår tid, vill vi – de äldste – vara konsekventa med att tala vårt språk. Inte bara bland våra egna, utan med alla. Vi vill ge alla möjligheten att lyssna på melodin i vårt språk. Reta er inte på att vi talar något ni inte förstår. Innan man kan tala, måste man lyssna.
As elders, if you meet someone who wants to learn their language, Saemesth / speak Saami with them! Encourage them, tell them that you are proud of them and the fact that they are learning the language. We are proud. Those who learn how to speak our language fill us elders with a sense of pride and power.
M anifest från äldre förstaspråkstalare. Staare, Ruffien 16b, 2012
People have stated that South Saami is on the brink of extinction for the past 150 years, and yet our language is still spoken
Manne åtnab dïhte gïele jïjnjebh jeahta, jah manne åtnab hijven lea gåessie maahtab, jah die manne håalab mov gïeleb maana-bealaste, so novh lea gujhth hijven jah buerie jïs leah dah noerh aaj lïereme saemiestidh. — Stäjna Fjällström
today. In order for it to be spoken once we are gone, we – the elders – want to use our language consistently. Not just amongst ourselves, but with everyone. We want to give everyone the opportunity to listen to the sound of our tongue. Don’t get upset that we sometimes say things that you don’t understand. Before one can talk, one must listen. M anifest from South Saami Elders Staare, the 16th of June , 2012
SCANNING THE MEDIA: PART 2
Our languages are not threatened. I think this is an important message to all of us who are working on revitalising our languages. We are many who are devoting a lot of time to our languages, and the way we look at our language is important, not just for me, who am studying my language on a full-time basis. Categorising Saami languages as threatened or on the brink of extinction leads to a point where I won’t be using the language as much as I could have been doing in different situations. Instead I want to have confidence in the future, and be full of hope that I’ll be able to speak more Saami than Swedish where I live. The most natural thing ought to be to use Saami as your go-to language in all situations, and then switch to another language only if it turns out that someone doesn’t understand you, instead of always assuming that nobody will understand you, because you speak a dying language.
Supporting our Saami languages should really be something selfevident. Languages and cultures are integral parts of each other. — Mikael Niemi, Samefolket 1/2005
Start researching your own history. If it means leaving no stone unturned to get anywhere, then do it, but never stop.
— Louise Bäckman, Samefolket 11/2003
We all have an inherent right to our languages. Why does it matter if what someone is saying sometimes seems different, or if it doesn’t sound grammatically perfect all the time? We could either speak our languages or put them on display in [a museum]. — Elin-Anna Labba, Samefolket, 1/2006.
— Mattias Harr, Nuorat (01.2012) Ij gååvnesh malle mij jeahta daate dïhte ellies saemien identiteete. Ij amma nimhtie saemien identiteetine jïh ij jeatjah identiteetine hellh. Identiteete seamma komplekse goh kultuvre jïh dah almetjh mah kultuvre sisnie jielieminie. Seamma jïjnjh saemien identieeth gååvnesh goh saemieh. Ij naaken identiteete seamma go mubpie.
It is really complicated to write academic articles in Saami, but suddenly realising that I was able to write these articles was immensely rewarding to me. If you want to learn how to speak and read a language, you have to be willing to put in seven years of work into it.
— Annika Jansson, Samefolket 5/2002
— Sara Mariana Åström, Samefolket 2/2015
Mov tjidtjie hov tjoereme gämhpodh juktie mijjieh edtjimh åadtjodh åarjelsaemien gïelem lohkedh bene idtji gåeredh väjkeles lohkehtäjjah gaavnedh mah meehtin åarjelsaemien gïelem leeredh. Bene daen jaepien manne åarjelsaemien gïelem lohkeme daesnie, saemien ööhpehtimmiejarngesne. Båetijen biejjiej sïjhtem åarjelsaemien gïelem jïlleskuvlesne lohkedh jis nuepieh gååvnesh gosse manne dan gukies båateme. Im sïjhth mov maanah edtjieh tjoeredh tjabredh daejnie seammalaakan goh manne leam dorjeme.
Dállie leä ájggie målsuotuvvame
jah surguone gåssie leäh illák vánies almatjh ájmuojne gieh mähth ubmejensámien hållat,
lijkan leä máhttielis gielub urrastahttiet jus dallák álggabe gåbdguejmijde gudniedit. Måddie sámieh gájkka láhkiene leäh jijtjase iedniengielub láhpietame, mij leä dejdde almatjijde bákttjedahttáme jah särjjedahttáme. Vuostas tjáŋaldahka mij máhttá almatjijde dálkkuot jah viehkietit mádduob gávnnat, leä dallák mierriedit gåbdguejmijde gudniedit, ledtjes guhte
— Naina Helen Jåma Wigdahl, Nuorat (01.2015)
ledtjes. Jus dahta árvvuovuoduo ij govnnh sämij gasskane, die ij guktták lijssh sámiengielub åvdadit jah ruoptijde válddiet.
The so-called Saami problem could
— Henrik Barruk, Samefolket 3/2006
be easily described if one wishes to use the aforementioned term. The
problem in question is that we as
Saami are eternally cursed to be studied by others. What we have to put forward seems useless on its own when judged by
We have a collective responsibility to pass on our aerpie-maahtoeh, traditional
knowledge, to our future generations.”
outsiders. Our own indigenous knowledge
— Sara Larsson, Samefolket, 2006.
is, generally, disregarded [by the majority]. — Ingwar Åhrén, Samefolket 10/2002
Muv buolvva la sjaddadam tjavgugijt. Muv buolvva e åro sjávo. Mij lip alvvá. Mij lip moarrá. Mij
The overwhelming amount of bureaucracy and paperwork that we have to deal with is a settler technique commonly used to
silence indigenous resistance. If you drown
suoddjip nubbe nuppev hárddo
people in a river of paperwork, they will
bieles. Mijá ájttegijs ällim bágo dårruj
never have the time to focus on their own
sábmáj. Muv buolvan la.
— Maxida Märak, Sommar i P1 2015
— Beaska Niillas
A CULTURE CHALLENGE: PART 2 26. Hága ođđa kulturustiba Facebook bokte.
Chatte kultuvrra birra Snapchattas. Hutkka kulturbirrasa Instagrammas.
29. Čáles kommentára muhtun bloggii. 30. Čáles jurdagiiddát muhtun forumii neahtas. 31. Oahpa dánsa válsa. 32. Oahpa gaska ameriikalaš dánsa. 33. Oahpa dánsa Street dance 34. Geahča dánsačájáhusa. 35. Gávnna ja geahča Ola Stinnerbom Youtube.com 36. Dánses geainna nu lunššas. 37. Gárvot maŋemus mota mielde ovtta beaivve. 38. Álggát ođđa mota. 39. Bija sániid/čilge iežat stiilla ja gárvodanmálle. 40. Rámit su gii lea fiidnámusat gárvodan/ lea eanemus hámálaš bargosajis. 41. Gallet Sara Svonni design interneahtas. 42. Árvvoštala makkár trendat du báikkis/gilis lea.
Oahpa eanet vistti birra gos barggat. Loga ecoviesu birra.
45. Čáles reive arkitektii gean bargui liikot. 46. Árval juoidá suohkana arkitektii. 47. Sárggo kulturviesu iežat oaivila mielde. 48. Makkár viesu sirddašivččet Sápmái? 49. Jielat ođđa báikkálaš dáiddára. 50. Mále iežat portreahta.
SÁPMI WRITES BACK: PART 2 SÁM EGIELLA JA M ÅN
I remember hating Meänkieli. My father had built-in loudspeakers in our kitchen walls, so every morning I was exposed to a loud barrage of news in Finnish when I was having my breakfast before school. I couldn’t understand a single word of it, as my grandmother hadn’t passed on the language to my mother, who in turn, consequently hadn’t taught me the language either. You were not supposed to speak Meänkieli. My mum told me that she used to get upset at my grandmother when she spoke Meänkieli with her sister who was heir neighbour in Jåhkåmåhkke.
I use to say that I can talk and write seven languages. Swedish is my first language, the only one I fully master. I can speak English, Spanish, French and Portuguese more or less fluently thanks to years spent in school, at universities and abroad. I’ve learnt German “by proxy”. I studied Arabic at university and tried my hands at both Swahili and Bambara. Norwegian and Danish, I tend to count them as well. They’re more or less identical to Swedish anyway and you were forced to study them to a certain extent in school when I grew up.
I think it was back in 1995 when my mother vehemently denied with a force that almost stunned me, and all in one single word – NO! – that we were Saami. It wasn’t until I turned 42 that my uncle told me that we were indeed Saami.
How many languages did it turn out to be in the end? It doesn’t matter, the point is that I’ve been exposed to and have studied languages throughout my entire life. The point is that the Swedish colonial power has spent a lot of money on teaching me Swedish and a number of other languages.
When I added my name to the Saami electorate, I showed them my grandfather’s family tree. I sometimes wonder if he spoke Lule Saami. Did he yoik? I wish I had known enough to ask him when he was still alive.
Despite all of this, there are two languages I don’t speak. What if I had been raised trilingual? It’s a mind-blowing thought! Once when I visited my mother in Jåhkåmåhkke and I still lived in Stockholm, my mother told me that I spoke “properly”. She used to remind me of this fact. A comment that lingers, I don’t even know why I remember it. My mother is from Jåhkåmåhkke and my dad is från Luleju, where I was born, but I spent my first six years in Uppsala and Märsta, Stockholm. I guess this is why she thought that I spoke “proper Swedish”. She had been conditioned to look down upon our local dialects and languages in Sábme.
But that’s colonialism to you, it conditions us to forget. The only way to decolonise ourselves is to reclaim what has been lost.
I realise that I won’t be able to learn Lule Saami and Meänkieli in the same way as I have learnt the other languages I speak. All my language education happened before I turned 30 and was funded by the settler state. And now I’m 49 years old. I have to pay for my own studies, and it has to take place during my own free time. I wish I
could download the languages, much like in the Matrix, so that I instead could use all my time to work on Saami decolonisation from inside the Ivory Tower of Academia
Society, I looked into organising a course in Saami – Davvin I ran in 1996, during the autumn.
Twelve people wanted to learn Saami when we started. We decided to study North Saami as Ballangen had used to belong to Evenes, a North Saami community. When Christmas came around, only a few of us remained. After the new year’s celebrations, only two of us continued studying Saami.
But I won’t stop trying to learn my languages. My personal decolonisation manifests itself through the use of Saami words and yoiks in different situations, in academic journals, in research applications, in academic conferences that I run and in all presentations that I do. I use on-line dictionaries and ask speakers of Saami who are more than willing to help me learn. It’s so exciting! I watch Ođđasat, I read articles in Saami without understanding them, and I rejoice when I recognise a word here and there. I sort of hope that my brain will act as a sponge and fill itself with some of the language that I have lost. I dream. I play with the words. Niegadit. Soajttet.
Come spring, and I was on my own. We tried getting a group together again, but very few people showed an interest in learning how to write and read Saami. A person from Narvik joined us, and we studied at the Davvin II course in Narvik. After this course, we were asked to start a beginner’s course in Ballangen. We taught according to the Davvin concept, I co-ran the course with a person from Håviksdal. We functioned both as the administrators and the teachers of the Saami course. Come the beginning of 1997, and I was able to hold a simple conversation in Saami. But the fact that I lack a place to speak and practice Saami, means that I have become less and less proficient.
– May-Britt Öhman M Y SAAM I LANGUAGE I was raised by a father who spoke Saami. My mother came from the south. When I grew up, Saami was mainly spoken when relatives came visiting. Sure, we understood what they were saying, but we never participated in the discussions. My father wasn’t really interested in teaching us Saami. We learnt tidbits of it, but most of it was quickly forgotten. I moved away to attend a boarding school at the age of 16. I entered a completely non-Saami world. But after having returned back home, I was almost 40 years old then, we entered an era of spiritual awakening of sorts. When the Saami Parliament was opened, I helped starting the Saami Political Party of Midtre Nordland. This was the start of a re-awakened interest in the Saami culture as well as the language.
One of the good things about it all is that I have been able to look at Saami place names. I find myself yoiking at different events at times. At the moment, I teach duodji, and I teach my students the Saami words for the things we make and the tools we use. Dat lea mun sámegiella.
I started a Saami Society. It was opened in May, 1994. As the leader of the Saami
— Ingolf Kvandahl
she left for the highlands and gave birth to him on a stone cliff, where he was then abandoned. His aunt noticed some tracks in the snow, followed them and consequently found him. She carried him home with the utmost care.
AKKTALÅKGUÄKKTE BIDUMSÁME BÁGO 1. buojdak – weasel 2. ginijáhkká – fairy woman 3. mårret – nice 4. råhtem - lynx 5. sjnjállo - puppy 6. sjvámbaldit – to talk nonsense 7. skenit – to understand 8. skierastit – to ski downhill 9. svärrut – to answer 10. tjasske – stoat 11. tsitsuk – a tiny bird 12. uvmásse – this and that, different things
Back in the village, my grandmother, Biret Susánne, embraced her son when she saw him again. She couldn’t offer him any breast milk, so he was raised on reindeer milk. The reindeer milk made my father ill, so he was transported to Guovdageaidnu with the help of a tame reindeer. World War II had barely ended, and the Burning of the Finnmark was an all too recent memory. As a consequence the Saami Mission had come to Guovdageaidnu. The Saami Mission was a Christian congregation who wanted to “save Saami children from a life without a future”. A mother who worked for the Mission, called Sister Karen, took my father from his family. She raised him at the Home for the Elderly in Guovdageaidnu until the day he turned seven.
Mån läv välljim bágojt ma vuosedi bidumsámegiela ikktijvuodav ja bunndudagav. Gu lierraguhtiv bidumsámegielav de verrtijiv åhtsåt bágojt gåbbátjaga julev- ja ubmejesáme báhkogirjijn. Såmes bágo ja hållåmvuoge vuojn tjidni bidumsámegielav nuortap sámegielaj ja ietjá bágo vit årjep sámegielaj.
His mother tried to get him back twice. But, born out of wedlock, as a child in a reindeer herding family at the beginning of the fierce Norwegianisation Era, it was impossible for her to fight the Norwegian State.
Buoremus báhko lä ginijáhkká, mav läv gullam juo mánnávuoda rájest gu áhttjám dan birra subtsastij.
SON DAGAI, MUN DAGAN
When my father started school, he was sent to the south to a family that used him as a farm hand. They subjected him to physical abuse and forced him to change his name from Ailo Gaup to Aslak Nilsen, in an attempt to physically and mentally beat the Saami-ness out of his blood.
Shortly before my father passed away, he tried to pronounce a Saami word that was written on my t-shirt. He didn’t quite get his tongue around the letter ”đ”. It was one of the very last things he said to me. And this in a language that had been physically stolen from him as a child.
My father suppressed any memory of his mother tongue and found refuge in an imaginary world, as a way to survive the pain. This, in turn, became the start of his interest in Shamanistic practices, and his first experience of travelling between
My father was born on the 18th of June, 1944, at the foot of Rávdooaivi, a mountain on the Finnmark plateau. His mother had concealed her pregnancy through the winter, and when the labour pains started,
different dimensions. There was a river nearby. Later he told me that the river saved him. It reminded him of the slowflowing river that cuts Guovdageaidnu in two.
But he never learnt how to speak his own language. It was – hardly surprisingly seeing the things he had experienced – a very traumatic experience for him to talk his language. He tried to speak it on numerous occasions. He attended language courses, partook in language immersion programmes, read books, dictionaries and practiced his grammar online. After a while, he decided to give up his attempt to reclaim it, acknowledging the fact that he wasn’t to blame for the fact that he had lost his mother tongue.
When he turned 18, my father ran off to Oslo, where he studied in order to become a journalist. He was employed as a reporter at the all-Norwegian newspaper VG, and without knowing what would happen to him, he set off for Guovdageaidnu in order to write a story about a reindeer herding family.
He met a woman at the hotel in Guovdageaidnu. When my father introduced himself as Aslak Nilsen, she said, “I know who you are, Ailo. You are my cousin. My mother found you when you were left as a new-born in the snow on the Finnmark Plateau.”
I was born in Oslo on the 8th of July, 1991. I attended a Saami nursery school and was fairly proficient in Saami. When I started primary school, I quickly forgot it all. And the school wasn’t all too keen on offering any lessons in Saami for that matter. When I turned 10, I could only speak Norwegian, and it pained me somewhat each time I came to Guovdageaidnu and my family addressed me in a language that I couldn’t understand. I answered to the best of my knowledge, and was incredibly ashamed of myself. When I grew up and came to a point where I wanted to find out who I really was, I quickly realised what I was missing.
The original plan for the story was quickly exchanged for a new one about the surprising meeting between my father, his parents and fifteen (!) younger siblings. He was given Saami reindeer boots and jackets to try on, and even though he was a vegetarian, he tried the reindeer meat that he was being served by his family. Soon after this, my father moved back to the north, he wrote books, poems, opened Beaivváš, the National Saami Theatre, rediscovered Shamanism and was an active supporter of Saami rights. He also changed his name back, calling himself Ailo Gaup again, thereby reclaiming his own identity.
Comparing myself to my father, the process of reclaiming my language was a huge success. I did not share his traumatic experiences that had conditioned him to think about his language in a certain way, I am not a victim of the Norwegianisation, and I have never been physically abused. Reclaiming my language seemed romantic to me. I was proud of the goal I had in mind. I moved to Guovdageaidnu when I turned 19.
NOTES FROM FINLAND
I was hoping that the language would come running back to me again. I was wrong. The Saami language is very complicated. The grammar is mental, and the structure of the language cannot be compared to that of Norwegian.
I was born in the South of Finland. My grandfather's parents had to move in order to get a job, from Sápmi to a city. Behind the moving were also family issues.
I'm worried about the future of minority languages. There are over 5000 languages left in the world, and half of them are in great danger of disappearing. I have lived my life in the Finnish society and learned Finnish as my mother language.
Cases, conjugations, verb groups and all the new sounds left me breathless. Wow, I really had to struggle in the beginning.
In my family being Saami has been kept hidden.
My grandfather was a Saami priest and so my father lived a part of his childhood in Anar. And when they moved back to Helsinki he was bullied because of speaking differently, so he learned quite fast to hide his roots.
I knew that my pronunciation was way off and that my conjugations were wrong. And yet I persisted. I wasn’t afraid. And my father’s encouragement and pride kept me going. So I didn’t mind when I said something that wasn’t correct. I have been fortunate in that I have never experienced anything but encouragement from Sápmi.
I think the reason why my parents didn't want to teach me and my sisters Saami, is that they tried to protect us. In the early 90's it wasn't easy to be a part of any minority in Finland. It seems that the atmosphere has got tougher nowadays, and I have heard that some Saami families have met racist comments when they have spoken Saami in public places.
And now, four years after I started reclaiming my language, I can speak it! On a daily basis. At work. On the phone. I write, think and dream in the language that used to be my father’s.
I’m interested, can my family still relearn the language and that way help protect Saami and make it survive. I think that the more Saami speakers there are, the better chances there is to get Saami lessons in the public schooling system. And with more Saami speakers, there will be more and better possibilities to use Saami, even if you live outside the traditional Saami area.
My father passed away last year. If he had still been alive, I would have taken him along on this journey. It is the most positive and meaningful thing I have ever done in my life. I could have taught him to speak his language on his own terms. Word by word. We could have laughed at mistakes, refusing to take things too seriously. Gone hiking, pausing to eat some blueberries, and then continuing. If he had still been alive, I could have given him something back. He has given me so many things. Life itself was a gift from him.
Our daughter will start attending a Saami language nest next month and we have been studying Saami, through a course organised by the City-Samit organisation. We try to learn the language, so we could use it at home and support our daughter’s learning of her second language. — Juho Keva
— Sarakka Gaup
NOTES FROM A MESSY DESK In this publication, we have chosen to stay away from traditional proof reading in favour of a love of and respect for the people who have chosen to write down their thoughts, as a way to empower our communities. In opting to stay away from red pens and instead celebrate those who make sure that the number of writers of our languages grows, we have added our support to a belief in languages as a vehicle of communication, rather than as a rigid set of orthographic rules.
We need more Harlequin novels in Saami, more rap songs, and hundred new books for children every year. Governmental documents will ultimately be translated anyway. Dare to be a writer of Saami, even if it seems challenging at first. The Scottish Gaels have a proverb about writing and languages:
This does not mean that we advocate a form of linguistic anarchy; instead we want to make people comfortable with the idea that it should be okay to misspell your language and play with it, as long as you indeed use it.
“A language is better broken, than long forgotten and buried”. Never forget this – misspelling a word is better than never writing anything at all.
We are not questioning spelling reforms, or the inherent structure of our languages, but rather the chains of prescriptivism, and in doing so, we want to make the written arena a more welcoming place for speakers and learners of our languages.
positiivlaž ääʹšš kollai juõʹǩǩ sââʹjest sääʹmǩiõl pirr.
Of course we need to make sure that our written Saami is as well written and mistakefree as humanly possible, but striving for perfection should in and of itself not become an obstacle for people, if it makes it harder to speak and write Saami on a daily basis.
— Pirjo Lotvonen
DÁLKKAS GIELLABÁKČASA VUOSTÁ Our language offers us a sense of security; and our mother tongue brings luck with it wherever you end up in the world. And it becomes even more valuable with time as it starts getting lost.
order to be able to show them off as twee symbols of a colonised people, whilst remaining silent about the on-going destruction of our people’s ancestral lands. Each word we learn is a sign rooted in our land and embodied through our choice to speak it. Our language is our land and when we speak it, we challenge colonialism, by the very act of not remaining silent.
– Paulus Utsi When they stole our language we sew our mouths shut in defiance, the new words scarring our silenced lips.
As Saami, our languages form an integral, central part of all discussions concerning our identities. Taking this into consideration, the act of speaking a Saami language becomes not only an important tool to facilitate one’s participation in what could be referred to as a Saami reality, it is also a natural vehicle for the transmission of cultural values within our own communities. We are our languages, they shape us, and connect us with our ancestors while simultaneously bringing us into the future.
Many moons later we built a boat of salvaged syllables, the old tongue a raised skeleton facing the wind.
It is important to make it clear to people that we are not reclaiming our languages in
— Johan Sandberg McGuinne
To a person who wants to learn Saami in Sweden, it has never been easier. Ten years ago, students were legally forbidden from attending distance courses whilst in mandatory education, there was no minimum amount of lessons that a school had to offer, and immersion schools were out of the question. Even though the question of immersion schools still remains a hot potato in Sweden, we have come a long way since. Today one can follow four different curricula when choosing to study Saami, and since 2015, schools are allowed to offer distance lessons to their pupils.
METHODS mentors, i.e. native speakers that are assigned one student to whom they pass on the language and culture in a natural setting, be it at cultural events or over a cup of tea in a local coffee shop.
My Saaminess is incredibly important to me. Some people take a look at me and automatically assume that I am not Saami, and when they talk to me they sometimes think the same thing as well, and this is because I have lost a lot of what makes me Saami, in particular my language – losing a language has a huge impact on people – but I am actively working on reclaiming it. And sure, this might seem like a tedious chore to some, but at the same time I do not want to continue to miss this part of myself, so reclaiming my language is paramount to me. Some people think that I don’t look Saami, but I am of the opinion that if you’re Saami, then you’re Saami.
A language can also be passed on if it is used as the language of instruction in schools; whenever a language is turned into an object to be studied, rather than into a tool to be used in order to study something else, it has a slim chance of surviving in the long term. If, however, an endangered language is used in the history or maths class room, in other words in a natural setting, it will most likely be picked up and end up being used by children and teenagers that otherwise wouldn’t have spoken the language. Many people think of revitalisation as a Philosopher’s Stone, but use it wrong. Wanting to revitalise a language is simply not enough, believing in the powers of schools to pass on a language is equally misguided. One of the main reasons as to why language revitalisation projects are unsuccessful is because far too many people believe that the necessary intergenerational transmission can be replaced with a weekly dose of a couple of hours dedicated to the studying of a language, when the truth is that this will never be successful, unless the language is used constantly around a child. Schools are seen as centres of power by endangered language communities, but cannot become that, lest the language is used as a tool of instruction.
Natalie Carrion, Hálgu, 23.10.2015
There are a number of methods that work particularly well when it comes to passing on a language, the most effective one naturally being a natural use of the language at home, where children are encouraged to become active rather than passive users of a language. Other successful forms of revitalisation projects include the establishment of language nests – an idea from New Zealand’s indigenous people – also known as full immersion preschools, as well as the use of language
“beallemas” Another problem is the general public’s all too big trust in linguists ability to revitalise a language; many people don’t think of language revitalisation as a community task, but far more as a task to be carried out by a select few for the sake of the community. This is misguided and often makes the very real contribution everyday speakers do to the survival of the language seem less useful.
Start writing a blog in Saami, or fill your social media accounts with updates in Saami. Each time you force yourself to write a sentence in Saami, you will find yourself learning more and more of your language.
Start writing post-its with words in Saami on them, and put them up around your house. Use everyday words, and words that you like the sound of. Soon everyone who visits you will know the words on your post-its as well.
Moreover, to this day it is far more common to talk about an endangered language than to actually use it, and this is intensely problematic. When even the people the general public considers in charge of the revitalisation project fail to use the language in public, it will not, it cannot survive. The choice to talk about a language rather than to use it is often justified with the belief that to speak an endangered language among non-speakers would exclude them from the conversation, but by believing in this lie is to fall prey to the power structures that made the language endangered in the first place.
Listen to the news in Saami. Commit yourself to 15 minutes of hard-core news a day, and write down at least five new words every time you take your time to watch Ođđasat or listen to e.g. Hálgu.
Find yourself an elder to be your mentor. Our elders connect us with out ancestors, and it is a gift and an act of healing to be able to listen to them when they speak.
When a language is being revitalised, we don’t have the time or space to coddle the people who speak the majority language and feel left out.
Don’t be afraid of using your language in public, even if you’re not a fluent speaker of it. On the contrary, make people aware of the fact that you do indeed speak Saami, regardless of whether you can write epics in your language, or your knowledge of Saami is more or less non-existent.
Another thing that often leads to the failure of language revitalisation project is the general tendency to focus on an idealised past. No language is static and if we allow ourselves to fall prey to the idea of pure languages, the language will not survive. Languages change and it is by far more important to have a slightly different, yet living language, than a language that is perceived to be ‘purer’ but is ultimately a dead language.
Let your language seduce you, let it tickle your tongue. The sweetness of that which you reclaim justifies its use in the public sphere.
1992, at the same time as the first ever Rio Earth Summit was held, hundreds of people from indigenous nations around the world met, and together they produced what is known as the Kari-Oca Declaration. The declaration is a key document for indigenous rights, and has played a vital role in developing and strengthening a global indigenous movement for human rights, as well as the protection of the environment around the world.
the Indigenous Peoples, walk to the future in the footprints of our ancestors.
From the smallest to the largest living being, from the four directions, from the air, the land and the mountains. The creator has placed us. The Indigenous peoples upon our Mother the earth.
The footprints of our ancestors are permanently etched upon the lands of our peoples.
The Declaration has since been reaffirmed a number of times, as part of the Kimberley Declaration from 2002, as well as the KariOca II Declaration from 2012. Both Declarations added sections and reaffirmed the sacred message of the original declaration, which continues to serve as a legal base to stand on when challenging the negative impact of colonialism, present and past, on indigenous nations.
We, the Indigenous peoples, maintain our inherent rights to self-determination. We have always had the right to decide our own forms of government, to use our own laws, to raise and educate our children, to our own cultural identity without interference.
Language is the voice of our ancestors from the beginning of time. The preservation, securing and development of our languages is a matter of extreme urgency. Language is part of the soul of our nations, our being and the pathway to the future.
W e continue to m aintain our rights as peoples despite centuries of deprivation, assim ilation and genocide. We maintain our inalienable rights to our lands and territories, to all our resources -above and below -- and to our waters. We assert our on-going responsibility to pass these onto the future generations. We cannot be removed from our lands. We, the Indigenous peoples are connected by the circle of life to our lands and environments.
– The Kimberley Declaration The choice to include the original Kari-Oca Declaration in this fanzine serves as a strong reaffirmation on our behalf of its content.
We, the Indigenous peoples, walk to the future in the footprints of our ancestors.
LUOĐIT Sámi eatnan duoddarat, Áillohaš.
VUELIEH Ubmejen jeanoe, aerpie-maahtoen vuelie Niilasa-Gáren Ánna, Berit Margrethe Oskal Reäjnnuománnije ávvuo, Jörgen Stenberg
Ohcalan, Lars-Ánte Kuhmunen. Máttaráhku askkis, Ulla Pirttijärvi Länsman. CD Áhpi, Sofia Jannok
CD Vuoste Virdái, Ára Assimilašuvdna Blues, Niillas Holmberg Skealbma mojit, Felgen Orkester
Dobbelis, Máddji Aejlies gaaltije, Frode Fjellheim GIRJJIT Jidnes skálkošeapmi, Inga Ravdna Eira Ávdnasis duodjin, Gunvor Guttorm ja Solveig Labba Ovddemus jápmet niegut, Elle Márjá Vars
GÄRJAH Máhttáhit – Re-educate them and us!, Asta Mitkijá Balto & Gudrun Kuhmunen Tjaalehvuekieh – Lena Kappfjell Kristoffer Sjulssons Minnen, Sjuvlen Krasta
BÁIKKIT Skievva duoddarat (Narviika suohkanis, ruoŧarájá nalde) Norrbäck, duottargiláš Vualtjere ja Likšu gaska Tråante
SIJJIEH Faamoemaarhke, Vännäs tjïeltesne Luvlie Geavhta, Dearna, Luspien tjïeltesne Santa Monica, California BEAPM O E Laadtegh mah lea jïjtje möörjeme Bearkoe-joptse mij aahka lea doelteme Soeves-sïjhke gaahkosne.
BIEBM U Luomelákca Vuššon čielgemális mas lea njuovčča, ađđamat, gáibi, ollolat Sáltečuovža
UNDERCO VER SÁPM I Keros jallh StoorStålkan lijnie Saemien bling-bling Laahkoestidh
UNDERCO VER SÁPM I áhku suorpmas buorástahttit diehpit ja riesaldagat
GASKE-VÏERM ESNE Lexin Bildtema – Åarjelsaemien gïelesne Nedtedigibaakoeh Ovttas / Aktan / Aktesne
INTERNEAHTTASIIDDUT Giellatekno Fárru Sámi Allaskuvla
A CULTURE CHALLENGE: PART 3 51. Čájet iežat fiidnámus fotografiija. 52. Čáles moadde cealkaga iežat jiellativnni birra. 53. Fina govvačájáhusrahpamis. 54. Čilge mii du mielas lea davviguovllu dáidda. 55. Gávnna ođđa báikkálaš musihkkára. 56. Čilge makkár šuoŋat ja jienaid gullojit iežat jiellatinstrumeanttas.
57. 58. 59.
Lávllo gáfestallanbottus. Oahpa soga luođi. Vuolgge konsertii.
60. Guldal dutnje apmasut musihka ja čilge makkárin orui. 61. Čáles teáhterbihtáža bargoskihpáriidda. 62. Lágit improvisašunteáhtera bargosadjái. 63. Oahpásmuva neavttárii. 64. Geahča teáhterčájáhusa interneahtas. 65. Hutkka alccet karakteara bargobeaivái (omd Hamlet, ealli jnv) 66. Maid háliidivččet oaidnit teáhteris? 67. Geahččal interneahttaspealu mii lea online. 68. Váldde breahttaspealu mielde bargosadjái. 69. Lágit gilvvu spealuin/stohkosiin geađgi- skierat- seahkka. 70. Oahpa ođđa spealu. 71. Dárkkis makkár dávvirat dus leat ruovttus maid báikki designárat leat duddjon. 72. Čáles reivve duojárii geasa liikot.
Ođasmahtte hámi dávviris mii hárdá du. Makkár duodji/dávvir livčče vuogas ja fiinnis jus livčče soahkeávdnasis dahkkon? 75. Hábme alccet exlibris (girjemearka).
PROVSJEKTEN BÏJRE Sápmi 2.0 – Subaltern No More wants to be a a decolonial art and language project involving Saami from all over Sápmi. Our wish is to inspire other Saami to start reclaiming their languages and to inspire them to go from being silenced to being confident speakers of their languages, as people with the same right to live their lives to the fullest, enjoying the same human rights to their culture and language as all other humans on this planet.
Every Saami constitutes a valid representation of what it means to be Saami today, we are our own norms, and even though language revitalisation is a timeconsuming collective as well as individual process, we have to let it take up our time, without at the same time allowing it to become an angst inducing, problematic experience.
Sápmi 2.0: Ii šat siskálastit.
Sápmi is open to every Saami, whether we speak fluent Saami, or if we’re still working on reclaiming our languages. This project offers a platform to those who have been denied a voice in the public as an effect of the colonialism, both present and past, that Sápmi has been subjected to. We want to give everyone a chance to express themselves – from first language speakers to learners.
Sápmi 2.0: Subaltern No More lea ovttasbargi dáidda ja aktivismaprošeakta, mii dáhttu nannet ovttaskas sámi gii háliida máhttáhit iežas gielaid ja buhtistišgoahtit rupmaša, mielaid ja láidumiid ja beasadit koloniserenvuoiŋŋas. Dát prošeakta čalmmustahttá árgabeaivválaš gielastallama ja dáhttu movttiidahttit oahppat sámegiela suohtas ja positiiva vugiiguin. Ja danne eat geavat koloniála gielaid mat leat leavván min eatnamiidda. Prošeavttas geavahat sámegiela ja eŋgelasgiela vai olahat riikkaidgaskasaš dekoloniála lihkadusaide.
We’re actively challenging the majority’s self-proclaimed right to define what is indeed meant by the term “Saami”, and we want to offer Saami the tools they might need to help them when they want to start speaking a Saami language and overcome fears of making mistakes, saying things wrong or not becoming fluent speakers.
Subaltern sáni váldosisdoallu lea: siskálastit, ii- oarjemáilmmi álbmogat ja stuibmet koloniála ortnega ja servodatsajádaga. Sápmi 2.0: Ii šat siskálastit.
GIELLASUTTUID BIIGGÁ DOVDDASTUS Mu sámegiel oahpaheaddji joatkkaskuvllas lei dovddus duiska gielladutki. Čeahppi gielas, dego girjjis bláđedit. Son heivii munnje bures, go mun ledjen oahppoáŋgir ja iežan mielas gielalaš. Muhto dan golbma jagi son lei oahpaheaddji, de ihte mu millii nu ollu njuolggadusa mo ii galgan čállit ja mo ii galgan hupmat jus galggai máhttit dan albma čielga sámegiela. Son bijai mu sojahit oamastangehčosiid kasusiid mielde ja daguhii potentiála ja konditionála vearbahámiid.
ledjen 27 jagi boaris ja ásaheamen čállaga Gába. Čállit ii lean váttis, baicce suohtas. Go korrektuvra lei lohkkon, lávejedje mu čállosiida dievvat rukses mearkkat mat muitaledje meattáhusaid birra. Okte gielladárkkisteaddji bálkestii báhpára beavdái. Mun ipmirdin lihkastagas, ahte dárkkisteaddji ii lean movtta. Go gehččen iežan mánusa, de ledje nu ollu rukses mearkkat ja sázut, ahte jus livčče muitalan son lea várdán báhpirii, livččen jáhkkán sutnje.
In diehtán dalle manne ja mo geavahit dan máhtu, muhto sápmelažžan lei dát mu giela vuođđogeađggit. Dan son oaččui mu ipmirdit.
Du čállingielas lea hui ollu norvagisma!
Iešalddis lei diekkár duomu lossat gullat. Dasa lassin lei nuohtta ja vuohki dán moaitagis nu bahča ja bastil, ahte dien bottus nogai jáhkku ahte mun lean buiga sápmelaš gii máhttá gielan. Hás mun ledjen dáruiduvvan? Hás ledjenge! Mun divvon čállosa neavvumiid mielde. Gatnjalat golge. Ja go gergen ja lohken čállosa ođđasit, de leige nu, ahte giella lei šaddan buoret. Ja čáppa. Ja duohta. Ja áddehahtti. Ja njuovžil. Ja beaktil.
Mun lean oba máŋga jagi eallán dilis gos sámegiel čállima iešdovdu leamaš gáržžiduvvon ja nordašuvvon. Mu čállima mánnávuođas ledje, mu millii, bahás divššárat. Mun gii áimmahuššen čállima, mus manahin lunddolaš jáhku iežan
Ja... sáhtášin lasihit vaikke man galle adjektiivva ja buot lei duohta.
“ságir” attáldagaide. Mun luiken beljiid neavvumiidda. Mun guldalin aivve čálalaš meattáhusaid birra. Mun in šat gullan dieid rávvagiid, mat rámidedje sisdoalu, muitalanmálle ja buot mii aŋkke, mo nu, man nu sivas, dette, lei bures čállon, maiddái grammatihkalaččat. Dehálut lei riekta čállit. Gean riekta in gažadan.
Sii leat measta nákcen buvihit mu gielalaš ovdanbuktima. 38 jagi lean lohkan ja čállán sámegiela ja hupman 43 jagi. Máŋga čállinvuogi lean oahppan mat leat maid moiven mu čállingiela.
Iežan siste eallá dáhttu čállit. Diekkár nealgemánná lea, gii bidjá mu lohkat, giellaoahpu háhkat ja oastit girjjážiid maidda deavdán čállosiiguin. Muitut, klišeádivttat, sitáhtat, áigumušat, bargolisttut, muittuhusat, sártnit, árvvoštallamat, giitosat ja buot mii leš čállit čáhket alas siidduide. Mun runcedin dárogiel sániid badjel ja bággen muitit dahje oahpahallat sámi sániid dan sadjái.
Máŋga girjji lean stáven, muhto maid návddašan. Máhtu ja jáhku lean háhkan vai biđán jeagadit daid neavvumiid mat ovddidit giela. Mu dárogiella čállinhistorjá lea seammalágán. Ja eŋgelas maid lea sullii ná. Jurddaš jus livččen ipmirdan nuorran jo, ahte gielain ferte bargat vai ovdána. Juohke gielain ferte, maiddái dárogielain vaikko dat gullo ja oidno juohke sajis.
Dál vikkan muittohallat čállingiela njuolggadusaid ja gokko galget biddjot á dahje a. Mun dieđán mun galggašin gullat daid, geas leamaš eadni eret Kárášjogas. Muhto mun in gula daid. Vel odnege in muitte, ahte sánis njálbmi lea á. muhto dál go Divvun-prográmma lea dihtoris, de dat merke sáni jus medden dan. Ihána buorre reaidu, gusto.
Paulus Utsi sánit giela gielan lea duohta. In livčče diehtán dán jus in livčče hupman, lohkan ja čállán. Sámegillii maid.
Giellapolitiija leamaš oassi mu čállinhistorjjás.
— Čiske Iŋggá Anne
A CULTURE CHALLENGE: PART 4 76. Ođasmahte mielkepáhka hámi. 77. Mo sáhttet fitnodagat searvat kulturbargui? 78. Bovde muhtun kultursearvvi iežat bargosadjái. 79. Oahpa eanet romeriid kultuvrra birra. 80. Oahpásmuva minoritehtagiela girječállái.
81. 82. 83.
Muital murjjiid birra. Čilge mo ja goas don guobbariid čoakkát. Muital maid dieđát iežat máttaráhkuid birra.
84. Jurddašala mo davvi beaivečuovga váikkuha dutnje. 85. Čáles listu mas leat logi fiidnámus báikki/guovllu miilla siste. 86. Gáfestala muhtumiin geas lea eará kulturberoštupmi go dus. 87. Čáles rámi lagamuččaide. 88. Snahpas boradanbottus olles bargovahkku. 89. Vállje ođđa gáfestallanáiggi bargosadjái. 90. Vuoje/vácce ođđa geainnu ruoktot maŋŋil barggu.
91. 92. 93.
Almmut iežat kursii. Fála veahki geasa nu. Hutkka ja muital muitalusa (beallegiellása).
94. Geavat aivve suohkana sámegiel báikenamaid olles vahkku. 95. Mii du mielas lea davviguovllu dovdomearkkat? 96. Mii váilu davvi guovllu kultuvrras? 97. Mo ovdánahttit giela valáštallamis? 98. Mo olahit ođđa joavkkuid kulturbargguide? 99. Árval mo Sámediggi sáhttá doarjut ja ovddidit sámegiela árgabeaivvis. 100. Čále juohke diđoža, SMS ja chat sámegillii olles vahkku.
MINNGEMES BIELIE SÁPM I FOR ENGLISH SPEAKERS
Ubmeje – Up my, ay! Guovdageaidnu – Go to gay no. Staare – Star, eh. Vualtjere – Vulture, eh. Jåhkåmåhkke – Jock, oh, mock, eh. Giron – Key, Ron. Sjädtavaelie – Shat a valley Romssa – Rum czar
Árjjepluovve – Are you plowin’? Liksjoe – Lick shoe Luleju – Loo lay low Skillehte – Skill: act A Vuadtele – What, Elly? Dearna – There, now. Kárášjohka – Car, a shocker! Deatnu – Dead, no
For translations: study your languages
‘Sápmi 2.0 – Subaltern No More’ var ett samiskt språkligt och dekolonialt konst- och demokratiprojekt för och med samiska individer som på e...
Published on Feb 6, 2016
‘Sápmi 2.0 – Subaltern No More’ var ett samiskt språkligt och dekolonialt konst- och demokratiprojekt för och med samiska individer som på e...