In Hopi elections, language preservation is a core issue

In the upcoming Hopi chairman elections, the role of language in tribal politics is front and center. The debate about whether the ability to speak and understand Hopi should be a prerequisite to running prompts bigger questions about culture, identity, and inclusion.

Felicia Fonseca/AP
David Talayumptewa, a candidate for Hopi chairman, stands outside of the tribe's high school in Polacca, Arizona, Nov. 6, 2021. Mr. Talayumptewa outlined his plans to revitalize the Hopi language during a two-hour debate ahead of the Nov. 11 elections.

Candidates for Hopi chairman move easily between the tribe’s language and English as they make their case for votes from a high school auditorium.

The audience is a mix of fluent speakers, Hopis whose language and culture were attacked at assimilation-focused boarding schools, Hopis who fear they might be mocked if they stumble over Hopi words, and others who want to learn.

To be in the place of Chairman Tim Nuvangyaoma or his challenger, David Talayumptewa, Hopis must be able to speak and understand Hopi. The rule in the tribal constitution was loosened in 2017 from being fluent, and Mr. Nuvangyaoma is pushing to eliminate any language requirement for the top leadership job on the 2,500 square-mile reservation.

He contends nixing it would draw in younger Hopis who were told to leave their homeland, get an education, and return to help their people with skills in technology, engineering, law, and hydrology but cannot speak Hopi. The reservation is composed of 12 villages in the Arizona high desert and is home to about half of the 14,000 enrolled Hopis. It is completely surrounded by the much larger Navajo Nation.

“We’re never going to ignore our culture and traditions, but we are in 2021 now,” Mr. Nuvangyaoma said in an interview. “There’s competition at the state and federal level to seek funding. We need to be a little more aggressive and aware.”

Mr. Talayumptewa counters the problem lies not with the constitution but in Mr. Nuvangyaoma’s leadership style, and the solution is in fostering a resurgence of the language that defines Hopis.

“That’s his gamble,” Mr. Talayumptewa said of Mr. Nuvangyaoma’s push. “It will be an issue in the election. I’m not backing off, and I guess that’s my gamble.”

The discussion about the language’s role in tribal politics inevitably turns into one about identity, cultural maintenance, sustainability, and preservation. Hopi, like other tribes, have fought to maintain their language while the U.S. government tried to eradicate their culture and assimilate them into white society.

Ada Curtis, who is known by Somi’mana in Hopi, recalled being taught by non-Natives on the reservation and the sickening feeling when she stepped on the bus not knowing English but being scolded and getting her mouth washed out with soap for speaking Hopi.

Several years ago, the neighboring Navajo Nation grappled with a similar issue over language when a presidential candidate was disqualified after he refused to be the first to undergo a fluency test. Voters on the largest Native American reservation relaxed the requirements, essentially eliminating the need for key leaders to speak Navajo.

The White Mountain Apache Tribe in eastern Arizona requires its leader to speak the tribe’s language. Other Arizona tribes, including Hualapai, Pascua Yaqui, and the Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma do not.

The Hopi reservation has been trending toward English being the dominant language for decades, as fewer parents speak Hopi at home, said Dr. Sheilah Nicholas, or Qötsahonmana, a University of Arizona professor from the Hopi village of Songoopavi. A U.S. Census Bureau study released in 2011 found fewer than a half-million people age 5 and over spoke a Native American language at home.

A small segment of Hopis who live in a community at the base of First Mesa speak Tewa, a language more commonly heard among Pueblo tribes along the Rio Grande in New Mexico. The Hopi reservation also includes the Village of Oraibi, the oldest, continuously inhabited settlement in the U.S., dating back around 1,000 years.

The Hopi sense of identity is vulnerable when Hopis live off the remote reservation, are distanced from religious and cultural practices like dry farming and ceremonies in the kiva, and can’t speak the language that is part of a spiritual covenant with the creator, Maasaw, Qötsahonmana said.

But focusing only on the speaking ability erases other forms of language, she said.

“There’s songs, there’s teachings, there’s prayer,” said Qötsahonmana. “All of those, if you are engaged and involved in those, you are becoming Hopi.”

Bernita Duwahoyeoma, whose Hopi name is Siwivensi, pointed to sacrifices made over the years to protect the tribe’s language and culture.

Nineteen Hopi men were incarcerated at Alcatraz, off the coast of San Francisco, in 1865 after refusing to send Hopi children to boarding school. In 1701, Hopis who resisted efforts by the Spanish to convert them to Christianity destroyed one of their own villages to ensure continuation of Hopi practices. Hopi men, women, and children died, Siwivensi said.

“It’s our whole culture at stake,” she said. “Just something as simple as language, and there we go as a people. And I’m wondering, which one of these candidates is going to be sincere and listen to what the people are saying from their hearts?”

The winner in Thursday’s nonpartisan election cannot single-handedly make changes to the 1934 Hopi constitution, but can shape a proposal through the Tribal Council and put it out for a vote.

Leilani Nish, who volunteered as a moderator for the debate and doesn’t speak Hopi yet, said she’d welcome a change to involve the youth.

“It’s not a free pass,” said the college student. “Whoever is there, regardless, should be able to learn the language. That way, when you’re talking [to] and greeting the people, you can greet them in Hopi. It’s just more respectful.”

Mr. Nuvangyaoma was a fresh face in Hopi politics before he was elected for the four-year term. He has been a firefighter, worked in finance, volunteered for the Hopi radio station, and served four prison terms for aggravated drunken driving, experiences he said have helped him connect to Hopis who struggle with substance abuse.

During Saturday’s debate, he repeatedly alluded to constitutional reform to give citizens a larger voice in tribal government, to create separation of powers, and to modernize the document.

Talayumptewa, a retired U.S. Bureau of Education official, has championed creating a single school district on the reservation. He said the tribal government needs to partner with small businesses and private industries, and reengage with language and culture.

Mr. Nuvangyaoma beat Mr. Talayumptewa in the 2017 election. Vice chairman candidates Clark Tenakhongva and Craig Andrews run on separate tickets. Turnout generally is low.

Mr. Nuvangyaoma and Mr. Talayumptewa took questions on public safety, tribal sovereignty, tourism, flooding, and illegal trash dumping during the debate at the school in Polacca that has allowed Hopis to get a high school education on their own reservation. A Hopi word at the entrance – nahongvita – encourages students to dig deep and stay strong.

The stage was adorned with gourds, baskets, and a colorful painting with corn stalks and Hopis in traditional dress.

The candidates introduced themselves in Hopi but spoke primarily in English. Toward the end of the two-hour debate, Mr. Talayumptewa outlined his plan to revitalize the language, which includes immersion programs. Mr. Nuvangyaoma dismissed the talk as an empty promise, saying Mr. Talayumptewa has had plenty of time to enact change as a three-term council member on the education committee.

Deidra Honyumptewa said she left the debate feeling hopeful. She and her family recently moved from the Phoenix area back home to the Village of Tewa but do not speak Hopi or Tewa.

“There’s a lot of highly educated people my age that are willing to step up to the plate and do what we need to do for our tribe, but that is a barrier for us,” she said.

This story was reported by The Associated Press. 

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.

Dear Reader,

About a year ago, I happened upon this statement about the Monitor in the Harvard Business Review – under the charming heading of “do things that don’t interest you”:

“Many things that end up” being meaningful, writes social scientist Joseph Grenny, “have come from conference workshops, articles, or online videos that began as a chore and ended with an insight. My work in Kenya, for example, was heavily influenced by a Christian Science Monitor article I had forced myself to read 10 years earlier. Sometimes, we call things ‘boring’ simply because they lie outside the box we are currently in.”

If you were to come up with a punchline to a joke about the Monitor, that would probably be it. We’re seen as being global, fair, insightful, and perhaps a bit too earnest. We’re the bran muffin of journalism.

But you know what? We change lives. And I’m going to argue that we change lives precisely because we force open that too-small box that most human beings think they live in.

The Monitor is a peculiar little publication that’s hard for the world to figure out. We’re run by a church, but we’re not only for church members and we’re not about converting people. We’re known as being fair even as the world becomes as polarized as at any time since the newspaper’s founding in 1908.

We have a mission beyond circulation, we want to bridge divides. We’re about kicking down the door of thought everywhere and saying, “You are bigger and more capable than you realize. And we can prove it.”

If you’re looking for bran muffin journalism, you can subscribe to the Monitor for $15. You’ll get the Monitor Weekly magazine, the Monitor Daily email, and unlimited access to CSMonitor.com.