Tools of Self Definition: Nora Marks Dauenhauer's "How To Make Good Baked Salmon"

My title, "Tools of Self Definition," is taken from the Kenyan scholar Ngugi wa Thiong'o's Decolonising the Mind, and is a phrase I find applicable for the literary endeavors of the Tlingit poet Nora Marks Dauenhauer, since her poems and essays are often very personal and familial. Her poems are also powerful expressions of Tlingit culture and sense of place, and thus can been read as tools of Tlingit tribal self definition. As I will show, Dauenhauer's poem "How To Make Good Baked Salmon from the River," from her book The Droning Shaman, can be understood as a tool of tribal self definition, an understanding which situates it within the larger debate as to whether or not traditional Indian worldviews can be translated into non-traditional forms such as English and poetry. It is my premise in this essay that such translation of worldviews is not only possible but has been actualized by Dauenhauer. Throughout my analysis, to aid in discerning the Tlingit worldviews as expressed by her poetry, I will utilize a list of key Tlingit values as presented by the respected Tlingit elder Dr. Walter Soboleff.¹ An examination of the debate surrounding the use of non-traditional forms and languages in American Indian literature will follow to give some context to the poem's analysis in order to show that Dauenhauer has indeed created a useful tool of self definition, and tribal definition, in "How To Make Good Baked Salmon from the River."

Though I could have picked any number of Dauenhauer's poems to address these concerns as most of her poems exhibit key Tlingit concepts, and many of her haiku-like poems are reminiscent of traditional Tlingit songs, I picked this particular poem because it describes a "tradition" I participate in as frequently as I can: the preparing, cooking, and eating of salmon. In reading the poem I feel as though I am being instructed in person, perhaps over the phone, on how to prepare salmon in a contemporary setting while at the same time being told of how Tlingits used to prepare salmon in traditional fish camps. In fact, I am often reminded, when reading this poem, of my own Tlingit grandmother telling stories of her childhood in the village of Klawock, Alaska, while she was engaged in a contemporary extension of that tradition in the city of Bellingham, Washington, where we lived. For example, whenever she smoked her salmon in a Little Chief aluminum smoker, she often told of Klawock's old, wooden smokehouse and how her elders used it to smoke salmon. "Though they don't use it anymore, that old smokehouse is still standing," she told me numerous times. I doubt she cared whether her smoker was made of aluminum or wood, what was important was that the salmon was still being smoked, and that the younger generation was observing the ritual of smoking salmon while learning, via the stories, respect for the older generation(s) and being made aware of how the culture has transformed and adapted. I believe we find the same sentiments in Dauenhauer's poem.

Dedicated to American Indian writer Simon Ortiz, Dauenhauer begins her poem by creating a tension between traditional and contemporary modes of preparing salmon.²

It's best made in dryfish camp on a beach by a fish stream on sticks over an open fire, or during fishing or during canning season In this case, we'll make it in the city, baked in an electric oven on a black fry pan.

(1-7)

The repetition of "in this case" throughout the entire poem echoes similar patterns in the oral tradition. It serves to illuminate the tension between the traditional and the contemporary, yet instead of overtly passing judgment against what is "contemporary," it acknowledges difference of context, the necessity of adaptation and transformation, and of making do with what is readily available in contemporary situations. In a sense, the poem is intended for Tlingits living in areas and contexts different from that of an Alaskan Tlingit...