Day 6 -- July 14, 2017

Umatilla Reservation and Umatilla National Forest

Pendleton, OR

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose / By any other name would smell as sweet.”

--Romeo and Juliet II.ii.46-47

Today after touring the reservation and national forests, our group returned to Wenix Red Elk’s home for a traditional foods feast. Her family spent the day preparing food for the feast, including the traditional foods of salmon, elk, and roots (plus a whole bunch of other really amazing food). While we were sitting around the fire, Jayenell, Christina, and Judy told us about their name giving ceremonies.

When I think about someone getting a name, I think of parents spending the months of a pregnancy thinking of possible baby names to give a child at birth, of sorting through the names and eliminating the ones that have bad associations, of naming babies after loved ones.

It works differently for Native Americans, and I am enthralled with the processes now. I am a firm believer that names have a huge amount of power in a person’s life (if you want a good read on the topic, check out Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner, it’s super interesting).

The way they explained it, Native Americans are given three names:

1.     A Christian name (for lack of a better term) given at birth.

2.     A traditional children’s name given when the child is young, typically in their Native language and easy for a child to remember and say.

3.     An Indian name, given by a family member (seems to usually be a grandparent) typically at some point during their teenage years.

Names are significant because they all have specific meaning or importance behind them, for example Christina’s Indian name is Mol-mol, which means Bubbling Spring Water. Jay’s (Tátwasa) name is more like a job description, telling others that she is a woman who is going to work in the Long House and fulfill those important duties. And most Indian names don’t repeat, unless the individual has passed on.

I have always loved my name, so much so that I don’t allow most people to give me a nick-name. But I’ve never felt like my name had much significance to it, other than my middle name being shared by my mother and uncle. I find myself a bit jealous of the idea of being given a name that fits you after you’ve grown.

I disagree with Juliet in the quote above: the rose may smell as sweet, but the “rose” is a part of that flower’s identity, just like “Montague” was a part of Romeo’s. The young lovers were unable to shake the influence that their names held.

There is power in a name, and if you are able to spend your life being called something that fits you in such an intimate way, I imagine your identity is that much more firmly rooted into your soul.