An Upriver Passamaquoddy

by Allen J. Sockabasin

When Allen was a child in the 1940s and 1950s, his village was isolated and depended largely on subsistence hunting and fishing, working in the woods, and seasonal harvesting work for its survival. Passamaquoddy was its first language, and the tribal traditions of sharing and helping one another ensured the survival of the group. To the outside world, they lived in poverty, but Allen remembers a life that was rich and rewarding in many ways. He recalls the storytellers, tribal leaders, craftsmen, basketmakers, hunters, musicians, and elders who are still his heroes, and he explains why preserving the Passamaquoddy traditions and language is so critical to his people's survival in modern times. Many rare photographs illustrate this fascinating memoir.

160 pages, Paperback

First published June 30, 2007

Reviews

[Michael Cook · Rating 5 out of 5]

A quick read, very inciteful. The text flows so well it is a quick read. Interesting and Insightful recollections. Allen Sockabasin provides real-world examples of life as an Upriver Passamaquoddy in the mid-20th century. A must-read for anyone interested in Native American culture.

[Dana Clinton · Rating 3 out of 5]

This small book is the selection for my local library monthly book club and as a resident of Maine, of course, is it apt and interesting. It took far less than one day to peruse, largely because there are so many great photographs. This is Allen Sockabasin's gift to his Passamaquoddy people, and it is a gift to anyone who wants more insight into the lives of Native peoples at the present time. The native language is fast disappearing, and there is a plea here to preserve it, for, he feels, the culture itself will not survive without the people willing to hold on to their first language... primary among their cultural heritage aspects. I did not realize that the five native tribes of Maine were not included in early government "acts" since Maine has always been rather a place apart. In his clear-sighted way, Allen touches on all the ways the formerly self-sufficient and proud native tribes have been pushed towards dependence and treated with disrespect. Here is a succinct summary of why he felt he needed to put together his observances: "Looking back to my childhood, when we had comfortable homes and lived off the land, it never entered my mind that we were living in poverty. It was the visitors from mainstream society, various church groups, the Indian agents, the media, and television that told us we were living in poverty and in a primitive lifestyle. But I feel that we lived in the wealth of Passamaquoddy tradition. We had our first language. We had strong family and spiritual values. We had tribal unity, a strong work ethic, and the determination and resiliency to survive as native people. We owned everything we had, we had no debt, and we didn't depend on handouts from the government. Those of us who had hard times in our village were nurtured and encouraged by everyone. Our education began at an early age and emphasized practical survival skills. Our history and art were taught by the storytellers and the talented artisans in our village...Today I have to wonder how much longer can we survive as traditional Native people."

[David Nelson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Allen Sockabasin died in 2018, about ten years after this book was published. 'In addition to his work as a musician,' reads the publisher's note on the last page, 'Allen has worked as a logger, builder, landscape contractor, tribal chief, HIV/AIDS program coordinator, and a substance abuse and child welfare director. But his primary interest is the preservation of the Passamaquoddy language and culture.' This book is, partly, a memoir of his childhood, but also a record of his people and of the five tribes that historically make up the Wub-bub-nee-hig (People of the Dawn Confederacy): the Passamaquoddy, the Maliseet, the Micmac, the Penobscot, and the Abenaki.

Most of his memories are of growing up in Mud-doc-mig-goog (Peter Dana Point, near the narrows at the east end of Big Lake, in Washington County, Maine), which is one of the two remaining Passamaquoddy villages, the other being Zee-by-ig, not far from the towns of Eastport and Perry. 'For almost a hundred years after our migration from Zee-by-ig, my people lived [in Mud-doc-mig-goog] in nearly total isolation from mainstream society.' [14] His childhood story is full of the names of hunters, weavers, storytellers, builders, and leaders; it's a story about the Nul-lem-kehw-ohig (People from Upriver); of Fred Tomah who, in the winter, used to drive the wild deer out onto the ice and meet them with hatchets; of building and 'double poling' white ash sleds to haul trees back from the local woods; of evading game wardens; of Alice Sockabasin (Allen's grandmother) who used to weave sweetgrass baskets shaped like strawberries and airplanes; of Joseph Tomah, the deer hunter who'd circle in by floatplane from Connecticut every summer and would be greeted with cheers by everyone in town; of the great artist Zeh-na-beh, whose work survives in some of the St. Ann's Indian Mission plaques in town, and of many others.

One of his first and strongest childhood loves was music, although he wouldn't be able to follow and develop it fully until he was an adult. 'When I was young I would go into the woods that surrounded Mud-doc-mig-goog and climb the tallest pine tree, where I would pretend to sing and play for my audience of pine, spruce, birch, and maple. They would dance as they swayed with the breeze, and I could hear them whisper their applause with the wind.' [81]

Winter enters into many of Sockabasin's memories: whether of trapping small animals for dinner, cutting firewood, ice skating, or of carrying out the trash for the Sisters of Mercy at the village convent, in return for which the sisters would hand out their leftovers to the children. He reflects on this, later in life, 'I've often thought about those bitter cold days, eating the sisters' leftovers on those steps, and wondered why they made us stay out there, since my people accepted complete strangers into our homes without question.' [135]

Visits to nearby white towns, like Princeton, include memories of de facto segregation and unequal treatment. 'I would look across the aisle at the white kids my age in a movie theater, and wonder why I couldn't sit with them. I remember my friends coming home with mixed feelings of anger, shame, and frustration after their failed attempts to attend the local high schools...My people could not get their hair cut in the town of Princeton; in fact we were not allowed in the barber shops until well into the 1960s, and we couldn't use the restaurants in the towns surrounding my village. I remember people driving by hollering profanity at us as we walked along the road. Tourists and visitors encouraged us to demonstrate our traditional dance, then threw their pocket change in the dirt for us to fight over, rather than handing the loose change to us directly.' [17] Later, he remembers how Raymond Tomah told him about a group of black musicians that visited the village in the 1930s, and of their common experiences living in a white supremacist society and country: 'Those who remember their visit felt that the group came to socialize, make friends, and eat with our people, since black people shared the same social status and suffered the same racial prejudices as Native people.' [81]

His account of the Maine Settlement Act of 1980 is colored by disillusionment, regret, and betrayals (both from within his tribe and from his legal counsel), but he ends this last story, and the book, with a renewed call to his own people that the way to survive in an increasingly hostile and unpredictable world is to preserve the values that have sustained them for thousands of years. Values taught by the language, by the land, and the people. His last words reminded me of Robin Wall Kimmerer's recent essay (The Serviceberry) about the 'gift economy,' a way of life that puts people and the land above capitalist aims to accumulate and hoard wealth*. It deserves to be typed out here in full:

"I'm over sixty years old and I'm just now beginning to understand and accept that my Creator created me to be a proud Passamaquoddy man and until he calls me, I need to live and play a positive role for our children. I don't need to drum on a tom-tom or carry an eagle feather or wear turquoise jewelry or dress up as an Indian in a ribbon shirt or smudge myself in a ceremony or pray ceremonially in public to prove my spirituality. I just need to stand tall as a 'Native-Speaking Passamaquoddy Warrior' and show our children that I don't smoke or use alcohol or drugs, that I will always respect and care for them, that I will always stand with and fight for those who are hungry and those who are in need of emotional and spiritual support, that I will never take anything that belongs to them, and that I will always protect our Mother Earth. These are the values that my ancestors and my heroes taught me, and I'm absolutely certain that these are the values they would want me to pass on to the next generation." [156-7]

*Sockabasin even includes a little anti-capitalist ghost story, told by his mother, about a hunter, one harsh winter, who was haunted by the beautiful Squa-woo-teh-moose, a ghost lady who 'wore her hair in braids tied with spruce root', after he had taken more than his allotment from a moose set aside for the community.

[Susan Eastler · Rating 3 out of 5]

Very simplistic but very informative. I am in awe of his dedication to maintain his native language and traditions.

[Pete · Rating 3 out of 5]

Eye opening for me, since I am particularly uninformed about Indian affairs in Eastern US. It is evident that Allen has much more to say about a number of issues -- casinos, land claims settlement, BIA social programs, etc.