My Shoshoni Language Learning Journey
According to family history, my first word was in Shoshoni. It was buih, or eye in English. As I grew older, I picked up more phrases from family members: Gagu’u, Namasoih, Aingabitte, Huutsi, Pishu’buih, Tsaa.
But then I went to school. And I learned how to read in English. Other kids would make fun of me for being weird so I felt like I shouldn’t make myself stand out more by speaking the Shoshoni words I knew. One time in 7th grade, my cousin and I made a Shoshoni language club and tried to teach ourselves using an old Shoshoni dictionary my dad gave me. Every day at lunch instead of going to recess, we’d stay in the library and sound out Shoshoni words. I loved the way they curled around my tongue as I stumbled along the syllables. We studied half the year, but my cousin and I quickly grew frustrated and tired. We stopped learning because we didn’t have anyone to talk to. We learned enough to know that we still didn’t know anything.
Fast forward to my first year in college. I was 1,000 miles away from home and I decided to email a fluent speaker to help me find some old recordings that I could listen to. Perhaps if I played them, then my ancestors could find me in the cornfields so far removed from the mountains of our homelands. The speaker, who happens to be my relative, was excited to find someone who wanted to hear the language. I acquired a few books and recordings and began to study Shoshoni in between my packed schedule of avoiding studying for classes that talked about things I didn't even know existed and eating meals with friends who came from all corners of the earth. It gave me comfort to listen to Shoshoni songs on my way to classes and to see those books on my bookshelf among others that dissected culture and analyzed the structure of whiteness.
After college, I was burned out. I wanted a break from studying or having to write papers I didn’t necessarily care about. I was ready for a break—that I didn’t get. The principal from the school where I work called me up for an interview. They were desperate to find a new Shoshoni teacher and it looked like they reached the bottom of the barrel when they found me. I told them that aside from my intensive coursework and observation in Iowa classrooms, that I had no teaching experience—especially teaching Shoshoni. I started the job the next day.
Three years later, and I am still learning. I believe that learning a language is a lot of making mistakes most of the time until you slowly learn how to correct yourself and then you get to make more mistakes at the next level. Shoshoni language isn’t like any other language where you can take a class and speak it. It’s more than a job. More than just communicating. It’s a way of life. It’s a way of observing your environment. Our Newe Daigwape is the lifeline to our ancestors and culture. In my time as an educator and Indigenous language learner, I’ve found that culture is inextricably intertwined with Shoshoni language. Sure, part of it is understanding grammar mechanics. But that’s not where the magic can be found. I think of Shoshoni like an oral map or guide to understanding the universe. Through my experience, I’ve found that language revitalization is not going to happen overnight. Just like the way it was stripped from my people, our language will take time to awaken again. Shoshoni language revitalization will be a lifelong endeavor for me, no matter where my life leads me. There’s a long road ahead, but with my ancestors’ guidance, I look forward to my continued journey.
