Power & Motoryacht – August 2019

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hit amongst the children in our group. After we’ve finished stomping,

an announcement is made that people can come back and fill their

mugs with seconds. Together, we cheer.

It’s easy to give yourself to the experience, to allow yourself to be

transported, at least mentally, to a time before outboard-powered

boats, glimmering cities and reservations. But imagining war canoes

paddling to the island comes with a price, at least for this show-goer;

a feeling of irrepressible white guilt bubbles to the surface. Tillicum

Village is by no means a self-contained museum: History is present

no matter which way you turn. Not 20 miles away lies the site of Old

Man House—one of the largest longhouses in the area—that was

razed by the U.S. Army in 1872 in the vague interest of “assimila-

tion.” In the resulting decades, young children were removed from

their homes and sent to boarding schools, where they were prohib-

ited from speaking their native language. Potlatches—large giving

feasts unique to the Pacific Northwest, when ceremonial masks were

donned and performances given—were outlawed. Masks were con-

fiscated. Ceremonial objects burned. And chiefs and noblewomen

jailed for simply practicing their culture.

While waiting for the show to begin, half-consciously observing

others finishing their mugs of clam broth, I wonder if our group’s

non-Indigenous guests are familiar with this dark side of history.

By the docks, I meet a nice retired couple who have arrived from

Kirkland, Washington, tying up their 41-foot Camano at one of the

slips in front. They plan to spend the day hiking, and lovingly refer

to the Northwest as a “boater’s paradise.” Do they know the history

of the Native people in this region? And if they do, how much does

it impact their boating?

Frank Mather would say tradition and respect are one and the

same. The cultural coordinator and master of ceremonies for Til-

licum Village, Mathers is part Makah (who refer to themselves as

Kwih-dich-chuh-ahtx, or “people of the point” on Neah Bay, Wash-

ington) and part Tsimshian (who hail from Alaska and British Co-

lumbia). Soft spoken and well-studied, Mathers has the no-small

task of teaching a new crop of young dancers the intricate move-

ments of tribal performances. And he’s not alone. On reservations

across the region, there are vestigial groups working to revive the

Guests are treated to a traditional
alder-fire roasted salmon on cedar
stakes and mugs of warm clam
broth—a nice touch on a cold day.