campfire stories
by Ronald Fedoruk
Sueños Grandes En Corto 3
Guadalajara, Mexico
October 24, 2002
Revised - April 5, 2006
first a story
how stories are entertainment
how stories make sense of the world
how stories take a personal journey
how stories create a sense of belonging
how stories define nationhood
how stories inform future generations
how stories fuel the campfire
bibliography
Copyright © 2002-2006 by Ronald Fedoruk
first a story
They say that for as long as anyone can remember, the native peoples along the North Pacific Coast of Washington, British Columbia and Alaska, have loved the salmon. The salmon is an intelligent fish, they say; a noble fish; a reliable fish. And that is a good thing, because the Northwest Coast people have depended on salmon, they say, for many, many centuries. The salmon's life begins with eggs laid in the gravel beds of clear, cold, coastal rivers. The young fish will spend their first year in the river, often miles away from the ocean. When they have grown strong enough, they make a careful journey downstream to the ocean and they swim off to the west.
Beyond the horizon and under the sea is the beautiful, wonderful land of the Salmon People, they say. The young salmon take human form and, as humans, they live comfortably and peacefully in their magical land for the next four years.
But after four years in the land of the Salmon People, they are big enough, mature enough that they must return to shore in order to lay their eggs. In a miracle of navigation, strength and endurance, they return to their native rivers. This is one of the most powerful and emotional events in nature. During October and November, the salmon battle their way upstream, battered by swollen currents, raked over the rocks of mountain rivers, and attacked by hungry predators. And each fish finds the exact gravel bed where it was born. There the salmon lay their eggs. And then, exhausted by their journey, depleted by their procreation, they die.
It is at this point that human fishers harvest the dying salmon and so have a food supply for the coming winter. The Peoples of the Northwest Coast would possibly not have survived without salmon, so it is natural that they hold the Salmon People in great respect. And what better way to show respect than to create a story. A story that explains and exhalts the life cycle of the salmon.
The transformation of the salmon people from fish to human is recorded by Bill Reid. His design is in the calligraphy of the Haida people. Music, drama, dance and sculpture have a long tradition in storytelling, and were principal information media long before the printed word. For nearly a thousand years we have been enthralled by the power of stories in print, and the past century has discovered photography, film and digital media as storytelling tools. As teachers, we are dedicated to the encouragement and the training of new kinds of storytellers, new artists expressing new work in new and imaginative forms. As researchers, we are committed to improving the technologies and methods for recording our stories. But in a world of rapid and constant development, there is an vital need for the the story to remain at the centre of that world.
The story of the Salmon People and their land beyond the sea, is just such a legend. It is a story that must be as old as the Salmon People themselves. Several thousand years certainly. It has been has been passed on orally, from one generation of storytellers to the next, without any more technology than a campfire.
Today we have a different campfire, a much more comlex and demanding campfire, with much more seductive technology. But the process for the artist is unchanged. Someone must have the responsibility to ensure that stories are preserved, retold, and reinvented. Someone must pursue the creative endeavours that define a rich and healthy culture. It is storytellers who must fuel the campfire. Here is a look at some new Canadian storytellers who are doing just that.