Cultural classes aim to make Mi'kmaw language thrive on P.E.I.

Ten-year-old Sophia Bourque already speaks more Mi'kmaw than most adults.

That's because few adults speak Mi'kmaw, and even fewer speak it fluently.

"Kwe' n'in teluisi amalgat mimigej'ij," Bourque said to a visiting reporter, introducing herself by her traditional name, Little Dancing Butterfly.

Bourque began learning the language with her mother a few years ago. Recently, they've been going to the STEAM P.E.I. building in Charlottetown to attend classes presented by Mi'kmaw Elder Junior Peter-Paul.

After about four classes, Bourque was starting to pick up some words.

"When I hear Junior talking with other fluent Mi'kmaw speakers, I can understand a bit of what they're saying," she said.

"I think if I keep coming to these classes, in about five years, I'll be able to speak fluently in Mi'kmaw. That would make me really proud."

That's exactly what Peter-Paul wanted when he started the classes: for the language to grow, and for more people to want to learn it.

"I try to keep it as simple as… possible," he explained. "I'm trying to teach them just the everyday basic words, the conversations that you hear in the communities from the elders."

Speaking it into existence

But the classes aren't just about the language.

Peter-Paul is a traditional drum-maker, and incorporates drumming and other cultural elements into his lessons.

"I include drumming because it all involves Mi'kmaw language with it, because some of our songs are in Mi'kmaw language," he said. "It's easier for them to learn as they're singing and playing the drum."

Other elders are invited to the classes to share their teachings as well. When Peter-Paul speaks with them in Mi'kmaw, it's an opportunity for everyone to hear the language in conversation — something he said doesn't happen often.

"The language comes after you start hearing the words," says Mike Viau, one of the people in the class. "You don't really think about it. You just absorb it."

Viau learned about his Indigenous ancestry only after spending years doing genealogy research. He recently began trying to connect more with Mi'kmaw culture.

"Now I know why I feel the way I feel when I hear the big drum," he said. "It's the heartbeat. You feel it. The first time I heard the big drums years ago, I had a tear coming down my cheek and I didn't know why. Now, I know."

Viau has also learned a few words, like kwe' for "hello," and how to say his traditional name, which translates to White-Headed Eagle. But he's learning more than just that.

"It's a sense of community that's important. I've never felt so comfortable with a group of people in my life as I do with the Mi'kmaq," he said. "The acceptance is already there. It doesn't matter who you are."

Bringing back memories

Peter-Paul flips to the next page on a large easel and begins reading words, first in English, then in Mi'kmaw. The class of about 12 students, sitting in a circle, echoes him.

"Cloud, aluk. Dirt, tupkwan. Earth, wksitgamuk. Fire, puktew."

For people like Jacob Jadis, this brings back memories.

"Back in my younger days, I used to know a lot of my language and it just kind of faded out as I grew older," he said. "So I came here tonight to trying to spark that memory back, get some of my language back."

I'd like to keep this going as long as I can, because I need to keep teaching this language to the people. We can't put a pause on it.— Junior Peter-Paul

Jadis says he grew up with most of his aunts and uncles speaking the language. They still do, but he doesn't.

"I found that I spoke more English in the school systems, and it just kind of faded away," he said.

But there's still words he knows when he hears them, like samqwan, which means "water."

"I used to use that word a lot growing up," he said. "And currently right now, that's what I do for one of my occupations. I'm a water operator, samqwan operator."

Jadis hopes Mi'kmaw youth like his daughter, who was in the class with him, don't lose their language like he did.

"I'm just trying to introduce her to the language and the culture and the drumming and the words so that she [will] be able to pick up on it on a gradual pace," he said.

"Just exposing her to these elements in these environments would create a comfort environment for her, so that she can pick up the language easier."

The classes happen twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 5:30-7:30 p.m. Peter-Paul hopes to continue them indefinitely, and that more people show up as they go on.

He said anyone can attend, including non-Indigenous people.

"I'd like to keep this going as long as I can, because I need to keep teaching this language to the people. We can't put a pause on it. If you're gonna start something, keep going."