Masaryk University Faculty of Arts

Department of English and American Studies

English-language Translation

Eva Dobrovolná

Translating Native Canadian Culture in Eden Robinson’s Novel Monkey Beach Master’s Diploma Thesis

Supervisor: Mgr. Renata Kamenická, Ph. D.

2012

I declare that I have worked on this thesis independently, using only the primary and secondary sources listed in the bibliography.

…………………………………………….. Author’s signature

I would like to thank my supervisor, Dr. Renata Kamenická, for her guidance and support in writing this thesis and beyond. I would also like to thank all the teachers at the English department who made possible the existence of the translation included in this thesis, as well as of other translations.

Table of Contents

1 Introduction ...... 1 2 Translating culture ...... 1 2.1 What Is Culture? ...... 2 2.2 The Translator as the Cultural Mediator ...... 3 2.3 What is meaning? ...... 5 2.4 How Should Translators Deal With this? ...... 7 3 Holistic Approach to Translation ...... 11 3.1 Making Choices ...... 14 3.2 Shifts ...... 16 3.2.1 Generalization and Distortion ...... 16 3.2.2 Addition and Deletion ...... 17 3.3 Non-intervention as a Strategy ...... 18 3.4 Adding Information ...... 19 3.5 Paratexts ...... 21 3.5.1 Paratexts in Tomson Highway’s Kiss of the Fur Queen ...... 22 3.6 Aboriginal Languages in the English Originals ...... 25 3.7 Translating Aboriginal Authors into Czech ...... 26 3.8 Example: Translation of Eden Robinson’s “Terminal Avenue” ...... 28 3.9 Conclusion ...... 32 4 Culture in Monkey Beach ...... 33 4.1 Hybridity as a Feature of Identity ...... 35 4.2 Myths and Traditions ...... 37 4.3 Tricky Ways of Narrating: Dismantling the Boundaries ...... 40 4.3 The Spoken and the Unspoken ...... 44 4.4 Language in Monkey Beach ...... 49 4.5 Genre and Structure ...... 52 5 Strategy for Translating Monkey Beach ...... 53 5.1 Overall Strategy ...... 54 5.2 Haisla and English in the Czech Translation ...... 57 5.3 Other Culture-related Phenomena ...... 63 5.4 Conclusion ...... 70 6 Translation Sample of Monkey Beach ...... 71 7 Conclusion ...... 108 8 Works Cited ...... 109 8.1 Primary Materials ...... 109 8.2 Secondary Materials ...... 109 9 Summary ...... 112 10 Resumé ...... 113

1 Introduction

Although culture can play a very significant role in a piece of literature and hence prompt the translator of the writing to mediate its role to the target audience as accurately as possible, it is difficult to find any hard and fast rules about how culture can be successfully transferred across languages. This might constitute a particularly complex problem in case of transfer between two cultures which are very distant and different from each other, as the danger of cultural misunderstandings is greater in these cases. With focus on specifics of translating Native Canadian culture into Czech, the thesis engages in detail with some problematic areas of translating culture and addresses obstacles that a translator is to encounter in the process; it also explores the possibility of applying a specific approach in order to tackle this difficult task.

The core of interest is translating Native Canadian culture in Eden Robinson‘s novel Monkey Beach into Czech. The thesis presents a detailed analysis of various aspects of Native Canadian culture which are reflected in the novel and which are important for the translator to consider when translating the book; it also explores possibilities of tackling these aspects in translation. Based on the outcomes of the general discussion, analysis of culture and delineation of the translation strategy, the actual translation of a passage from the novel will round off the debate in an attempt to demonstrate the practical application of the chosen strategy and thus test its validity.

2 Translating culture

One of the goals of this thesis is to look closer into how meanings of culture-related phenomena are rendered in specific translations. But if one wants to address any issues that concern translating culture in a piece of literature, the first challenge to be

1 encountered is simply determining what culture is. And immediately after that, another major obstacle emerges: discussing how culture-related meanings in the original writing are rendered in the translation requires delineating what ―meaning‖ is, or rather, what is our understanding of it. The approach to both these initial problems significantly influences the choice of strategy for translating a specific piece of literature; hence they will be addressed in the first place.

2.1 What Is Culture?

Not surprisingly, culture as a concept has been granted much attention already. David

Katan dedicates a large section of his book Translating Cultures to summarizing the debate about what exactly should be understood as culture. He admits that ―even though we all know to which culture we belong, defining the word has been notoriously difficult‖ (Katan 25) and that the outcome of such attempts heavily depends on the chosen approach (27). He chooses to focus on the constituents of culture which lead to

―a shared mental model or map of the world‖ (26) among those who belong to the culture, on ―what goes without being said‖ (26) within this culture and what is perceived as ―normal‖ (26). Still, the result is more an outline than a real definition.

In her book Enlarging Translation, Empowering Translator, Tymoczko begins from a similar standpoint; she observes that culture ―is formed of practices that are to a very great extent not consciously understood‖ (Tymoczko 227). Hence culture as a shared map of the world or a system of behaviors could be more easily defined when contrasted with another such system, as without such contrasting, it is difficult to decide what constitutes the system: we can only recognize what we consider normal if we are confronted with something abnormal. However, as observers are often not aware that their own attitudes and behaviors result from their cultural background, they ―can also remain locked in the belief that their own cultural practices are ‗natural‘ and hence

2 retain an alienated stance toward the cultural other‖ (227), which shows that cultural awareness requires more than just cultural confrontation. Nevertheless, even a successful enumeration of qualities of a certain culture does not bring us any closer to a universally valid delineation of what culture actually is.

Since I am aware of the pitfalls of trying to assign a clear-cut meaning to the term culture, I will not attempt to choose the most suitable definition from those already formulated or even try to create my own. Rather, I would like to acknowledge that the term itself is problematic, as it can be understood very differently by different people. I would also like to look closer into what can be considered constituents of a specific culture in a specific piece of literature and is therefore relevant for the translator of such a piece of literature who wishes to pass on the cultural information present in the original. Further, I would like to explore what role in this process plays the translator as the cultural mediator.

2.2 The Translator as the Cultural Mediator

Obviously, the role of the translator in rendering the source text culture to the target language audience is crucial. More often than not, the translator is simultaneously an insider to one of the cultures s/he deals with and an outsider to the other; hence the translator‘s perception of each culture is also affected by his or her cultural background and his or her perception of both cultures in question. As all translations are done by a translator, the factor of the translator‘s background and cultural perception seems to be a necessary constituent of each translated work – as Hatim and Mason observe:

―[i]nevitably, we feed our own beliefs, knowledge, attitudes and so on into our processing of texts, so that any translation will, to some extent, reflect the translator‘s own mental and cultural outlook, despite the best of impartial intentions‖ (Hatim and

Mason, 11). Tymoczko develops this thought further when she explains:

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[I]n the case of translation of culture, culture is coded in the body of the translator as well as

the body of the subject, so to speak. A translator must not only unpack the embodied and

situated knowledge related to cultural configurations and practices in the source text, the source

culture, the author or speaker, and so forth, but be able to interpret the embodied and situated

cultural practices and dispositions of the translator‘s own culture and the culture of the

receiving audience. […] All of these difficulties in perceiving and writing culture are further

complicated by particular individual perspectives. (Tymoczko 227)

As the extensive debates (also summarized by Katan as well as by Tymoczko) about what culture is and how it can be defined prove, culture is inevitably a fuzzy term, and although people tend to think they have some understanding of what culture means to them, so far it has not proven right to assume that a larger group of people could possibly agree on the same, universal understanding of the term. Consequently, each translator will have a slightly different, unique understanding of what constitutes culture as such as well as of what constitutes a specific culture in question and finally also of what constituents (or markers) of culture in any given piece of literature are. Rather than perceiving this as an obstacle, it seems reasonable to take the personal perspective of the translator concerning culture into account and acknowledge that beside the general understanding, these inevitable subjective aspects of understanding culture do indeed create a constituent of how culture will be mediated to the target audience.

Having admitted that our understanding of culture depends on the chosen approach, we might also claim that our understanding of translating culture depends on the chosen approach as well. Although Tymoczko often refers to Katan in her book and acknowledges his contributions to the discussion of this topic, the approaches of these two theoreticians differ markedly. Katan strives to analyze specific strategies and examples as well as to provide terminology for discussing them, while Tymoczko concentrates on larger implications of translation and mainly on the role of the translator in creating the target text and shaping the meanings of the translation. I will attempt to

4 utilize outcomes of both the approaches in the following discussion: the focus of the discussion is mainly on the overall approach to translation that Tymoczko suggests, but at the same time, terminology from Katan is borrowed in order to discuss specific demonstrations of the chosen strategies and specific examples from the texts, especially of those situations when the texts address elements of material culture. However, as outlined above, before the transfer of meanings across cultures can be discussed, the problematic nature of meaning as such should be tackled.

2.3 What is meaning?

A problem similar to that of defining culture is likely to be encountered once we venture into the area of transferring meanings across cultures: if we want to transfer something from one culture into another, it seems useful to define what exactly this something is.

In its lack of satisfactory conclusions, the debate about what meaning means does not indeed differ much from the debate about what culture is. Tymoczko observes that translators often strive for a similarity or sameness of meaning of their translation to its original, assuming this to be ―a straightforward and obvious thing, a simple and unproblematic concept‖ although this attitude ―diverges sharply from the views of meaning in linguistics, philosophy, and literary studies, as well as many other academic disciplines, where there is both puzzlement and contention about what is meant by meaning‖ (Tymoczko 265).

In the conclusion to her excursion into the nature of meaning, Tymoczko makes three important observations: firstly, despite all the attempts ―the trajectory of thinking about meaning since the beginning of the twentieth century has revealed more and more diverse types of meaning to be accounted for‖ (Tymoczko 293). Secondly,

(and perhaps most importantly for the discussion in this thesis) she points out the widespread agreement that ―meaning is something that is less objectively ‗out there in

5 the world‘ than it is something constructed by agents, most notably by individual human beings and groups of people (namely, cultures)‖ (293). Thirdly, because ―language itself

[…] plays a fundamental role in constructing and establishing meaning, […] [and] because language is always in flux, if meaning is tied to signs (language), meanings cannot be stable‖ (293). All these observations help to sum up the complexity of meaning, making it clear that use of the term is far from unproblematic.

Katan provides interesting insights into the process in which different theorists came to think that meaning in communication is also culture-bound (Katan 101). In his discussion about how to understand the connection between language and culture, he claims that ―how languages convey meaning is related to the culture‖ (Katan 118, emphasis in the original). This claim can hardly be argued against; on the other hand, it only establishes that there is a certain kind of connection between two rather fuzzy concepts. It is easier to perceive this than to determine what constitutes this connection and what dynamics this connection relies on. In her attempt to explain the complexity of meaning, Tymoczko uses a slightly different approach: she dedicates a whole section of her book, entitled ―Where does meaning reside in a text‖ (Tymoczko 276-82), to listing different aspects that together constitute meaning. The comprehensiveness of the list suggests that any attempt to preserve all of these component meanings in the process of translating is doomed to failure. As it seems, meaning can be more easily described in terms of its different constituents than defined, but even so, it remains ‖highly subjective, changeable and indeed vague‖ (Katan 100). Moreover, the fact that―[m]eaning is also an open-ended affair, with new types of meanings constantly being generated as cultures change‖ (Tymoczko 277) only makes the situation even more unclear. Holmes wittily points out that ―different translators, however faithful to the source text will invariably produce their own and different renderings of almost any

6 text. Any back-translation will further add to the differences, and, therefore: ‗To call this equivalence is perverse‘‖ (qtd. in Katan 191).

Naturally, there is some basic overlap of meanings between languages, especially in the area of connotative meanings of words, but not even that is always completely true, and especially the denotative meanings of words might be substantially different in different cultural contexts. Katan notes that although ―languages can convey concepts from other cultures, people (including translators and interpreters) tend not to realize that their perception (through language) is, in fact, bound by their own culture‖

(Katan 118). Even if a new word is imported into a language to fill in a language gap that exists between the two languages, this new word might have a perfectly identical form, yet still a different meaning for the target text readers: as Kramsch suggests, ―it is a fallacy to believe that because Russians now drink Pepsi-Cola, Pepsi means the same for them as for Americans (qtd. in Katan 33, emphasis in the original). And again, as much as we can observe that Pepsi does not mean the same thing for an American reader as it does for a Russian one, we can hardly claim we know what exactly it means for either of them, or even that it means the same thing to all American or all Russian readers. Having acknowledged the complexity of this issue, quite naturally a question arises of how translators should deal with this – the possible answers will be discussed in the following section.

2.4 How Should Translators Deal With this?

Writing gives you the illusion of control, and then you realize it‘s just an illusion, that people

are going to bring their own stuff into it. (Sedaris)

For the above stated reasons, the translator has to take into consideration that even

―same‖ expressions might mean different things in different cultural contexts, and be aware of the many different constituents of meaning present in each text. Obviously,

7 this makes choosing suitable equivalents even more difficult for the translator. As a solution to situations when no formal equivalence exists between languages, Nida suggests using dynamic equivalents: in a translation that ―attempts to produce a dynamic rather than a formal equivalence […] one is not so concerned with matching the receptor-language message with the source-language message, but with the dynamic relationship‖ (Nida 159). He explains that in this case ―the relationship between receptor and message should be substantially the same as that which existed between the original receptors and the message‖ (159) and that in ―such a translation the focus of attention is directed, not so much toward the source message, as toward the receptor response‖ (Nida 166). However, that this is not an unproblematic notion either is apparent from the following arguments. First of all, Tymoczko aptly points out that even if ―we seem to have an intuitive sense of what Nida means by the concept dynamic equivalence, strictly speaking we must recognize that the meanings of so-called dynamic-equivalence texts are significantly different from those of their sources‖

(Tymoczko 286). Besides, she argues that not only is it ―difficult to understand how a translator can fully determine what the meaning of a text was for its ‗original‘ audience‖

(286), but it is ―even more difficult to see how that meaning could be reproduced for any other audience in a different context‖ (286). Admitting this, it seems reasonable to accept the viewpoint that meaning is not being preserved or translated, as it is not something ―objectively ‗out there in the world‘‖ (293), but rather ―constructed‖ by individual human beings (293) as the text is being created and also as it is read – and this applies to both the original and the translation.

Tymoczko concludes that ―[i]t goes without saying that authors and translators cannot ever fully anticipate or control readers‘ responses, and thus it follows that authors and translators cannot circumscribe the meaning of their own textual

8 production. Nor does a text mean the same thing to author and translator or to any two readers‖ (Tymoczko 285). Obviously, Tymoczko concentrates on the meaning in its broadest sense: in her understanding, each reading of any text leads to a slightly different unique understanding of it, thus the reader in the act of reading participates in the construction of the meaning of the given piece of literature – and a translator in the act of translating necessarily does so as well.

If we accept that no piece of literature has a fixed meaning on its own, just as individual words and expressions acquire different meanings in different contexts and for different language users, and if we agree that ―translation cannot be conceptualized as a process in which ‗the meaning‘ of a text is simply transferred and preserved across languages, nor can the task of the translator be defined as the preservation of meaning‖

(Tymoczko 304), we can hardly claim that the objective of our translation is simply to transfer meaning from one culture into another. Consequently, a question arises of how translators who wish to formulate a clear goal for their translation should deal with this situation, that is: if ―preserving the meaning‖ ceases to be the objective of the translation, what else should it be?

Since Tymoczko believes any attempt to define or delimit the nature of meaning as such to be inconclusive and futile – as she claims was proved in other disciplines (265), she instead states her intention ―to problematize simplistic concepts of meaning prevalent in translation studies, demonstrating the constructivist nature of meaning in translation‖ (265). She claims that ―translators are the ones who construct meaning in translated texts‖, and hence she suggests that they should ―liberat[e] their translation practices from the false dictate to preserve meaning‖ (265, my emphasis).

This seems to be a rather bold suggestion. Yet if we hold on to the claim that the meaning of the original should be preserved in a successful translation from one

9 language and culture into another, but we nevertheless fail to articulate what this meaning is (or which of the many constituents of meanings is the most relevant one) and considering that different groups of people or different cultures assign meanings to concepts differently, such an intention would seem somewhat hollow and definitely no less fuzzy than what Tymoczko suggests.

Moreover, ―[t]extual meaning is open-ended, not fully determinate, and subject to change; meaning is at once underdetermined and overdetermined. There is no predetermined circumscribed meaning in any translation task for a translator to transfer‖

(Tymoczko 304). Hence what the translator understands as meaning of the text is just one of the many possible interpretations. The translator, of course, strives for this meaning that s/he sees in the original to be among those meanings that can be seen in the translation, but inevitably, ―[t]ranslators must make choices‖ (304). This is a crucial point: rather than searching for the right way of expressing a thought in the target language, Tymoczko‘s approach presents the process of translating as a process of choosing one of the many possibilities at hand, while this choice must necessarily be a compromise between different options based on what the original means to the translator. Tymoczko points out a highly important fact that ―[n]o translator can preserve all the meaning and all types of meaning that a text encodes and that are indicated by its context and elicited by its reading. There is simply too much information for a translator to attend to and to attempt to reproduce‖ (Tymoczko 288).

She explains the process of choosing in the following manner: ―Instead of actually attempting to transfer meaning, a translator copes with the surplus of meaning in a text by making choices about meaning, prioritizing those meanings, and creating a heuristic for constructing the translated text so as to perform the meanings desired‖ (Tymoczko

288, my emphasis).

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The situation the translator is confronted with could hence be summarized in the following manner: the translator‘s own cultural perception creates the basis for an understanding of what exactly constitutes culture in a given piece of literature while his or her own reading of the piece of writing creates the basis for an understanding of what its meaning is (regarding the culture as well as other aspects). Based on this, the translator makes choices about which of the writing‘s many meanings should be transferred into the target text and in what manner. This viewpoint assigns a major role in creating the meaning of the translation to the translator, as opposed to the view in which the translator should be a preferably invisible mediator of a message formulated in the source culture who interferes with the meaning of the message as little as possible. Consequently, this attitude also grants a great deal of responsibility to the translator who is now confronted not with the search for the most suitable solution, but rather with the problem of how to decide which choices to make.

Once the original intention of creating a translation which in its target culture would retain the same meaning as its original has in the source culture has been challenged, it should be replaced by some other standard towards which the translator could strive, some other factor that would provide guidelines on how to arrive at a translation of a decent quality. After the tricky nature of the concepts involved has been exposed, it seems understandable that this cannot be a simple standard either.

Addressing this situation, Tymoczko comes up with a rather inspiring approach, that is, the holistic approach to translation.

3 Holistic Approach to Translation

Tymoczko suggests the holistic approach to translation as a way of tackling the difficult task of translating, and specifically of translating culture. This section of the thesis will

11 examine different aspects of this approach – in general, as well as in the context of translating specifically the Native Canadian culture. First of all, the approach should be introduced in more detail. It is based on similar principles as for example the holistic approach in the field of education or medicine which grants ―attention to all facets of a child or patient respectively, rather than just attention to the cognitive or the physical well/being of the subject‖ (Tymoczko 233). She points out that the holistic approach considers ―a broader field of cultural phenomena, as well as additional specific facets of culture, than has been the practice in translation studies thus far‖ (233). Another crucial aspect of this approach is its goal which ―is not so much to translate a source culture

‗fully‘ or ‗accurately‘ […], as to empower the translator in deciding how to translate culture‖ (248, emphasis in the original). This is a crucial point and might also be the most innovative and unique feature of the approach. Tymoczko also argues that

―holistic cultural translation permits greater self-awareness in translation choices and greater control in constructing the cultural representations and performances in the target text that support the translator‘s specific aims and goals‖ (248), as well as it

―enables greater cultural interchange and more effective culture assertion in translation, allowing more newness to enter the world‖ (233).

The merits of the approach having been stated, it obviously needs to be clarified how such an approach can actually be applied to a specific piece of literature.

Before we start translating, the first and highly important step is to determine how culture (obviously, in the translator‘s own understanding of the concept) is mirrored in the original writing and which specific constituents of culture are present in the original.

Although such ―analysis is not, of course, easy, in part because of effacement of these large aspects of culture, their unspoken character, and the tendency for members of a culture to view them as ‗natural‘ or ‗real‘ in an essentialist sense‖ (235), Tymoczko tries

12 to offer some guidance by introducing ―a partial repertory of cultural elements that a translator might consider in a holistic approach to translating culture, incorporating them either explicitly or implicitly in the translation process and taking them into account in making choices that determine the cultural representations of the target text‖

(235, my emphasis). Then, the translator has to decide how these constituents, together with their broader context and implications should be rendered to the target text readers.

However, despite Tymoczko‘s useful insights and elaborate analysis of the approach she argues for, the actual process of translating culture as she describes it retains a certain degree of fuzziness. Moreover, it is hardly possible to define an exact strategy which could be consistently applied to a fairly long text, for example to a whole novel, let alone recognized and tracked down as such in an already finished translation.

But even if the approach might be not suitable for analyzing already translated texts, it seems to have a considerable potential to be of use for a translator at work. Trying to see the larger implications of the text provides a solid starting point for choosing how to deal with this particular piece of writing – as Tymoczko points out, ―thinking holistically about cultural differences and using a holistic approach to cultural translation are both only antecedent to selecting a decision-making procedure for cultural translation and devising an actual translation strategy to serve the translator‘s larger goals‖ (Tymoczko 250, my emphasis).

One of the great merits and at the same time pitfalls of this approach is that it attempts to look at the culture as a whole, not just at the material representations or specific culture-related items. In this approach, ―material culture is not forgotten, but it is contextualized within larger frameworks and supplemented by attention to many aspects of culture that are less tangible on a physical level‖ (Tymoczko 238). However, for reasons mentioned above, this might result in a need to think of too many things at

13 the same time. Consequently, even if we attempt to consider as many elements of the specific cultures as we can, we still end up in a situation when we have to choose and prioritize: making choices and compromising is an inevitable aspect of the process of translating.

3.1 Making Choices

Since no two languages are identical, either in the meanings given to corresponding symbols

or in the ways in which such symbols are arranged in phrases and sentences, it stands to reason

that there can be no absolute correspondence between languages. Hence there can be no fully

exact translations. (Nida 156)

The necessity to make choices and compromise in the process of translating is caused by aforementioned differences between languages as well as by the very nature of inter- cultural transfer. Because ―most texts are produced within a culture for audiences from the same culture […] there are many common cultural assumptions shared by the speaker or writer and the audience addressed‖ (Tymoczko 228); therefore ―the speaker or writer can assume that the audience knows the cultural underpinnings of the subject matter and its background‖ (228). However, this situation changes once a piece of writing is translated and thus presented to an audience which does not necessarily share these cultural assumptions with the writer of the original. Tymoczko claims that:

In cases where there is disparity of cultural context between the subject matter and the

audience, it is rarely sufficient for an author to transpose cultural material, implicitly

presupposing, alluding to, or sketching the cultural background, because the audience is likely

to be ignorant of the cultural assumptions in the resulting text and will be unable to make

necessary and relevant inferences about meaning. (Tymoczko 228)

Consequently, the translator faces the challenge of bridging this disparity and making the original text accessible for the target audience. As Tymoczko emphasizes the importance of analyzing the culture present in the original piece of writing prior to

14 translating, she also stresses the usefulness of thinking about ―how the specific cultural context of the source text can be presented to the target audience in such a way as to allow the audience to understand or receive the dispositions and practices of another people in a cohesive or integrated fashion consonant with and framed by the text itself and the purposes of the translation‖ (Tymoczko 234, my emphasis). The translator needs to choose a way of doing so, and if this is to be done by providing additional information to the target text readers, then also the most suitable way of providing it.

In practice, an approximate strategy will help the translator while s/he makes individual choices, even if this strategy might happen to be not applicable to each and every dilemma the translator will be faced with. However, admitting to making choices based on specific criteria and preferences implies making compromises, and hence negotiating between gains and losses.

There is inevitable loss and gain of meaning in moving between languages because of

obligatory features of languages and anisomorphisms across linguistic boundaries. Similarly,

there is loss and gain of meaning in moving between universes of discourse, cultures, systems

of poetics, and ideologies. But loss and gain of meaning are not necessarily terrible things.

(Tymoczko 308)

In this sense, such losses are not references to ―mistakes‖ or ―imperfections‖ of a translation, but rather to inevitable shifts of meaning that naturally occur in the process of transferring linguistic and/or cultural material from one language and culture into another. ―Contemporary theories of meaning legitimate translation by acknowledging that shifts of meaning, multiple interpretations, and constructivist interventions by translators are not only inevitable but ultimately desirable‖ (Tymoczko 308). Due to this constructivist nature of translation, the translator is not choosing if these shifts will occur or not, but rather what kind of shifts they will be. The following section examines how meanings are affected by the transfer from one language and context into another.

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3.2 Shifts

The shifts characteristic of the trans-cultural transfer of a text have significant impacts on the translations; therefore, it seems useful to look closer at what exactly they are and how they occur. In this respect, Katan points out that ―[h]uman representations, like cartographic representations, will always be a scaled-down model of reality, and so the model of the world like any other model involves three necessary and basic changes:

GENERALIZATION, DISTORTION, DELETION‖ (Katan 120). Since translation is basically a process of creating a new representation of the same reality in a different language, these changes apply to translation as well. Katan dedicates a whole section in his book to the processes of generalization, deletion (and the opposing process: addition) and distortion, since these are seen as the basic changes that occur in translation; they also largely overlap with Nida‘s concepts of additions, subtractions and alterations as basic techniques of adjustment (Nida 226-240).

3.2.1 Generalization and Distortion

As for generalization, Katan observes that the ―unconscious generalized categories of everyday life are, of course, culture bound. Many of the categories overlap perfectly, others less so‖ (Katan 173), therefore differences in generalization are necessary.

However, ―further generalization can be performed by the mediator to reduce distortion‖ (Katan 173). Translating the English word seiner used in a Canadian novel into Czech – a language of a landlocked people with little general knowledge of different means of open sea fishing – as ―rybářská loď”/“fishing boat” is a simple, but clear example of such a generalization, although this method can be (and often is) applied to more abstract concepts as well.

Distortion appears to be somewhat more difficult to describe than generalization. In itself, it is ―neither good nor bad. It is a way of directing the addressee

16 to what the speaker or writer considers important. Distortion does not give us an objective picture of reality, but functions like a zoom lens allowing the reader to focus on certain aspects, while leaving other aspects in the background‖ (Katan 188). This often seems to result in a very subtle shift and as languages have different grammatical structures (e.g. functional sentence perspective in English vs. Czech), it might at times be hard to pin it down. ―Distortion can occur through faithful, literal translation and by making explicit what was originally implicit. This can happen by focusing more attention on the word itself in the TC‖ (Katan 188). For instance, if there is a language gap between the two languages, it suggests itself to fill the gap by importing the word from the source culture. However, leaving a source language word untranslated in the target text will necessarily draw attention to such a word, changing the point of focus of the reader.

3.2.2 Addition and Deletion

Katan argues that ―a translator as cultural interpreter or mediator also needs to account for information that is implicit in the context of culture‖ (Katan 177). Moreover, it is also important to note that ―the context of culture can be perceived at a number of different levels, from environment (e.g. institutions) to beliefs and values (cultural orientations) and identity‖ (Katan 177). As pointed out earlier, the lower levels are those receiving the most attention in translation studies and are also more tangible. Thus it is not surprising that at ―the lowest level (environment) […] it is already fairly standard practice to add or delete according to the accessibility of the frame‖ (Katan 177).

Deletions and additions seem to be the most natural strategies in the following two situations: either it is unnecessary to provide to the target text readers all the information provided in the source text to the source text readers, as the implicit information is accessible enough without the extra specification; or the target text

17 audience needs some extra information to be able to access the frames or implications that are clear to the source text readers. They seem to be especially useful strategies mainly in those cases when the disparity of cultural context between the subject matter and the audience is considerably large.

These different shifts offer options that the translator might choose from in accordance with his or her overall strategy and, as Tymoczko calls it, larger goals. To be able to do that, the translator must not only be aware of these options, but also of the consequences of choosing one over the other. As mentioned above, the first stage is to determine which elements of the novel reflect elements of the source culture that are likely to be inaccessible to the target text readers and why. Then the question arises what to do with them and how choosing different options at hand would shape the meaning of the final translation. Discussion about consequences of choosing different strategies follows.

3.3 Non-intervention as a Strategy

Different options might be chosen based on different motivations of translators: obviously, even if the translator is aware of the cultural disparity between the source and target audiences, he or she might still make a conscious decision to leave the cultural elements which are present in the work of literature intact.

An author may choose to present cultural material with absolutely no explanation, taking the

position that the audience should be able to understand the material on the basis of general

knowledge, absent which it will fall to the readers to do the homework necessary to fill in the

cultural background for themselves. (Tymoczko 229)

On one hand, there is a danger that cultural elements will be misinterpreted due to the lack of background knowledge of the target audience (or inaccurate understanding of the source culture). On the other hand, such a translation would present to the target

18 readers a representation of a foreign culture ―undisturbed‖ by any interventions of a facilitator – it might be harder to access, yet many would probably think of it as more

―authentic‖. Nevertheless, Tymoczko claims that even leaving the unclear cultural material present in the original as it is does not imply a lack of intervention by the translator, but simply a different kind of statement by the translator:

When the presentation of culture is not shifted to take into account the knowledge of the

audience (…), the actual speech act of the text itself becomes marked: perhaps as

aggressive, as especially assertive of dominant standards, as arrogant, as overly erudite or

hermetic, and so forth, depending on the interpretation of the reader who must cope with

the opaque cultural material. (Tymoczko 230)

Tymoczko‘s stance might seem a bit extreme, but even if the reader does not perceive such a translation as downright ―aggressive‖, leaving cultural material completely or largely unadjusted so that the references might be accessible to only few well-informed

(or ready to search) individuals seems to be falling short of what is expected of the translator as the cultural mediator. Thus, in order to make such mediation successful, the translator might prefer the option of including additional information after all.

3.4 Adding Information

When the translator comes to the conclusion that additional information should be included so that the target audience would be able to access the same frames as the original audience was, there are still several different options of doing so. The choice of additional information is largely affected by the nature of information that is to be added. In the cases when only a short explanation or clarification is needed, it is possible to insert this addition into the text in an unobtrusive way so that the reader might not even notice that anything was added in the process of translating. This, however, is hardly possible if a longer and/or more complex explanation is needed, and

19 in such cases, the translator has to look for other available means of including additional information.

In his dissertation Contemporary Ethnographic Translation of Traditional

Aboriginal Narrative, Philippe Cardinal focuses on the situation when non-Aboriginal readers are confronted with a piece of writing that relies on the readers‘ understanding of certain cultural phenomena of Aboriginal cultures, especially in case of translating texts (which moreover were originally oral narratives) from Aboriginal languages for the English-speaking audience. He observes that although an ―explanation in the form of a translator‘s note inserted in parentheses or in a footnote‖ might seem to be a useful option, ―virtually no one would want to publish a translated novel with parenthetical or foot-noted explanations inserted more than once or twice in the entire book. Chances are that few people would want to read such a novel‖ (Cardinal 270). Katan comes to a very similar conclusion: ―Mediation through addition, or explicitation, may be made […] through unobtrusive manipulation of the text; with a comment outside the main body of the text, for example a footnote or as an explicit note in the text‖ (Katan 177), while he also mentions (notably, in a footnote) that ―[i]n practice, many clients are unhappy with any form of footnote‖ (177).

Footnotes are unpopular and rather out of fashion not only because of their inconvenience (as the reader has to look down the page and back up again), they also significantly affect the nature of the text in question. Tymoczko points out how texts are affected by such distortions as for example a shift of focus too much towards the cultural material in the piece of writing in which cultural material was originally only present in the background:

In the simplest sense, shifting a cultural concern from the background to the foreground in the

translation – for example, by explaining a cultural element and therefore bringing more

attention to it than it has in the source text – alters the subject matter of the text as well as the

20

text type. In such a case the translated text becomes more didactic than the source in virtue of

the explanations introduced. (Tymoczko 230)

Footnotes might indeed be the most striking way of doing so: ―Adding paratextual materials such as footnotes also shifts the text type in much the same way‖ (Tymoczko

230), since a text with explanatory footnotes and a text of primarily literary qualities do indeed differ. Interestingly, the footnotes can cause what Katan calls distortion by directing the reader‘s focus towards something that was not in the centre of attention in the original. However, a similar kind of distortion can be caused by the opposite strategy, that is, by leaving a specific expression untranslated or concept unexplained.

Basically, it appears that once a major disparity is present, the translator faces a situation when some sort of shift or distortion (in the broadest sense) of the text is necessary: either the translator chooses the first kind of distortion, which is providing opaque cultural material, making the TT marked in a way that ST was not, or the translator chooses the second option: altering the subject matter of the text by adding the focus on cultural elements which is not present in the ST. If the latter is chosen, it should preferably be done in the least obtrusive manner possible. If there is too much information that needs to be included in order to facilitate understanding but we want to do it without significantly affecting the text by including too much information directly inside it and if footnotes are to be avoided, there is the option of including the additional information within the book but outside of the actual piece of literature: in a preface or an afterword.

3.5 Paratexts

Paratexts such as a preface or an afterword can provide additional information which did not ―fit‖ into the text and thus be of great help in mediation of understanding. They provide the background knowledge that enables comprehending cultural implications of

21 the text without intervening in the actual piece of writing: they either precede it or follow it. In a sense, they still affect the focus of the text, but it can easily be argued that in a much less obtrusive manner than footnotes which change the look of each page they appear on and hence also of the whole book and which also claim the reader‘s immediate attention, interrupting the process of reading.

Moreover, although making a foreign source culture accessible to the target text audience is a significant part of the act of translation, the translator should also consider that many readers of translated books probably take into account that the story takes place in a foreign setting, and are thus tolerant towards a certain degree of exoticism and/or foreignness in the book. This assumption justifies a bit of foreignness in the translation (that is: not everything needs to be explained), but it can also justify the inclusion of external explanatory material. Thus especially in those cases when the source culture is quite different from the target culture, or unknown and exotic, it seems reasonable to assume that those target text readers who choose to read such a book despite its exotic setting (or some of them perhaps even because of it), might also have some interest in learning more about the source culture, and at least some of them would appreciate the inclusion of an non-fictional text that provides information facilitating such understanding without disturbing the flow of the text. In the next sub- section, I will look in more detail at an example of how paratexts can be effectively used to mediate Native Canadian culture to a non-Native audience.

3.5.1 Paratexts in Tomson Highway’s Kiss of the Fur Queen

An interesting example of paratextual work with Native Canadian cultural information is Tomson Highway‘s novel Kiss of the Fur Queen. Already in the English original, several different kinds of paratexts which complement the overall message of the novel are used in a very artful manner. In many aspects, Kiss of the Fur Queen is similar to

22

Eden Robinson‘s Monkey Beach which will be analyzed later in this thesis. Like

Robinson‘s book, it is a contemporary novel written by an Aboriginal writer originally in English (Highway‘s mother tongue is Cree, but he uses English and French as the languages of his literary expression) in which the Native heritage of the author (as well as of the characters) plays a significant role. Kiss of the Fur Queen is a semi- autobiographical story depicting Cree characters from the Arctic Canadian tundra who are taken from their homes at young age and sent to a Catholic residential school and their struggles in the English-speaking Canada. Although the novel is not a translation in the truest sense, the piece of writing has some qualities typical of translations, as in the first place, it offers the English-speaking audience a glimpse into a different and

(even if not foreign) quite exotic culture. The author emphasizes this still more by including expressions and sometimes whole sentences in Cree (meanings of which can be found in a glossary) and also by including, in a form of a preface, a short text entitled

―A Note on the Trickster‖ in which he reminds (or informs) the readers of the prominent role which the Trickster plays in the Aboriginal way of understanding the world.

Despite being rather short, the preface ―A Note on the Trickster‖ also has the function of bringing to the foreground the significance of the Trickster in the actual novel at hand, as the author purposefully directs the reader‘s attention towards this character and his/her many demonstrations in the novel which without such clear notice beforehand might go unnoticed. The presence of such a preface also makes it clear that

Aboriginal culture as such will be in the foreground of the novel. Highway also foreshadows the theme of the novel in the epigraph. It consists of two parts; firstly,

Highway quotes Duncan Campbell Scott saying: ―Use your utmost endeavours to dissuade the Indians from excessive indulgence in the practice of dancing‖, and then, he quotes Chief Seattle of the Squamish implying the everlasting presence of those who

23

―still love this beautiful land‖ and claiming that the ―whiteman will never be alone. Let him be just and deal kindly with my people. For the dead are not powerless.‖ Thus even before the reader starts reading, s/he is notified that the story to come is one of struggle and colonial resistance, and that Aboriginal values and viewpoints will be of importance in it.

Still before the actual book begins, the reader comes across the Editor‘s Note which notifies (or warns) the reader that: ―Cree terms are used throughout this novel.

For their meaning please see the Glossary, pages 307-310.‖ The glossary at the end is rather laconic; it basically only provides translations to expressions or whole sentences that are used in the novel, sometimes accompanied by short explanations like

―Machipoowamoowin – bad dream power (a very powerful term)‖ (Highway 308), or

―Atimootagay – dog‘s cunt (common swear word)‖ (Highway 307). Interestingly, the glossary also includes ―General Notes on the Cree Language, of which one concerns pronunciation, while the other refers to a different understanding of gender that influences the Cree people‘s perception of the world (and of themselves): ―There is no gender, so that, in a sense, we are all he/shes, as is God, one would think…‖ (Highway

310). These little pieces of extra information that accompany the text provide an aid to the reader to comprehend cultural underpinnings present in the book, and at the first place, the remoteness of the culture as such. The significance of the Cree terms in the novel, and hence also of the usefulness of the glossary is stressed even more by the fact that the very first word of the novel is spoken in Cree: ―‗Mush!‘ the hunter cried into the wind‖ (Highway 3, emphasis in the original). This indicates another area of interest that is highly relevant in the translation of Aboriginal novels: the presence of a third language in the translation, which shall be addressed in the following section.

24

3.6 Aboriginal Languages in the English Originals

The use of Aboriginal languages within contemporary Aboriginal writing originally in

English is a widespread phenomenon. Klára Kolinská points out that the works of

Native American writers are often a meeting point of English, as the generally understood language of the majority culture, and Native languages which mirror often very different philosophical, psychological and esthetical standpoints1 (Kolinská 530).

The use of Native languages in the texts serves a number of purposes. Indisputably, they introduce an element of foreignness into the text otherwise set in an environment with which the (in this case Canadian) reader is largely familiar. Moreover, in her commentary on the contemporary Aboriginal drama, Kolinská argues that the authors include into their plays passages in the Native languages in order to draw the viewers‘ attention to different poetics of their view of the world and so that the viewers might at least for a short while experience the lack of understanding and the consequent powerlessness which the Native cultures had been involuntarily experiencing for so long2 (Kolinská 530). She emphasizes that viewers confronted with an unknown linguistic element are invited to realize the existence of cultural diversity and the non-

Native audience can thus experience a small unsolicited sample of estrangement and uprootedness that the Native cultures were experiencing when they were forbidden to speak their mother languages and forced to speak English3 (Horne, qtd. in Kolinská

531). Highway also points out that to be able to fully understand the viewpoints and

1 V textech indiánských autorů se setkává angličtina, všeobecně srozumitelný jazyk většinové kultury, s domorodými jazyky původních kultur, které vyjadřují často velmi odlišná filozofická, názorová, psychologická a estetická východiska. 2 Autoři často zařazují do svých her pasáţe v původních indiánských jazycích, aby diváky upozornili na odlišnou poetiku svého vidění světa a dali jim alespoň na okamţik pocítit zkušenost nejen jazykového neporozumění a z něj pramenící bezmoci, jiţ indiánské kultury tak dlouho nedobrovolně proţívaly. 3 Tím, ţe se v naší kulturní krajině zničehonic objeví nesrozumitelný jazykový ukazatel, jsme vyzýváni k tomu, abychom uznali existenci kulturní rozmanitosti. […] Ne-indiánské obecenstvo tak dostává malou nevyţádanou ukázku odcizení a vykořeněnosti, jemuţ byly vystaveny původní národy, kdyţ nesměly mluvit svým jazykem a byli [sic] násilím nuceny k angličtině. 25 issues dealt with by the Cree characters, one would have to speak Cree and understand the essence of the language (private conversation), and thus the bits and pieces of Cree language in his novels have also the function of reminding the reader of this fact. As this phenomenon constitutes an important aspect of such novels, it appears adequate to take it into consideration when translating source texts in which the languages themselves play a significant role into yet another language.

3.7 Translating Aboriginal Authors into Czech

The presence of Aboriginal languages in the writings as well as the significant role which they play in the texts are among the many peculiarities that the translator has to tackle while translating Aboriginal authors from English into Czech. The ―other‖ Native language in the novel serves to remind the reader and the translator that even the original is, to some extent, already a translation. In the „Note on the Translation― included in the collection of Czech translations of Native American stories Vinnetou tady nebydlí, Jiří Rambousek explains that in the process of exploring Indian cultures, translation is omnipresent, may it be the conversion of an originally oral story-telling tradition to a written form, or the translation from the Native languages into English

(Rambousek 500). He also points out that even works of authors who choose to write in

English are based on ―the oral tradition originating from Native languages, and their thinking and understanding of the world is closely bound with their Native languages and cultures‖4 (Rambousek 500). Hence translating such works from English into yet another language, in this case Czech, is already a second – or third if we count the

4 Jejich tvorba se totiţ o ústní tradici vzniklou v původních jazycích opírá a jejich myšlení a vidění světa je s původními kulturami a jazyky spjato. 26 transfer from oral to written form as a separate step – transfer of the work5 (Rambousek

500).

Another significant factor to consider when translating Aboriginal authors into

Czech is, of course, the notable remoteness of the two cultures. Rambousek points out that:

For comprehensibility and easy reception of a translated book, it is naturally advantageous if

the distance between both cultures, their way of thinking and habits is the smallest possible.

This is not the case of texts by Indian authors: authors of the short stories [in this collection] let

us have a glimpse of a world that is hard to comprehend even for many English-speaking

readers, and moreover for which Czech often lacks suitable expressions6 (Rambousek 500-1).

Besides, when dealing with a piece of writing from such a geographically as well as culturally remote area, it seems reasonable to consider the context in which the novel appears and how much of the culture is likely to be known to at least some of the readers. In the case of the Native Canadian culture, not much background knowledge about the culture in question can be expected from Czech readers. In the preface to the aforementioned collection Vinnetou tady nebydlí, Jeffrey Vanderziel provides a brief historical preview of Indian literature in English ―as many readers will probably be unfamiliar with it‖ (Vanderziel 6) and observes that:

Although Czechs (like other Central-Europeans) have been fascinated by Indian culture for

decades, paradoxically only a little of it has been made available to them. And what is worse,

most of what Czechs and Europeans in general know about Indians and their culture was

viewed through the prism of European and American stereotypes and narrated by white

people.7 (Vanderziel 6)

5 V tomto smyslu je tedy překlad indiánských autorů z angličtiny do češtiny jiţ druhým převodem (nebo třetím, počítáme-li za samotných krok také přechod mezi ústní a psanou formou). 6 Pro srozumitelnost a snadné přijetí přeloţené knihy je samozřejmě výhodné, je-li vzdálenost mezi oběma kulturami, jejich myšlením a zvyky co nejmenší. U indiánských textů tomu tak není: autoři povídek nám dávají nahlédnout do světa, který je i pro mnohého anglického čtenáře těţko pochopitelný, a pro který čeština navíc mnohdy ani nemá k dispozici vhodné pojmy. 7 Ačkoli totiţ Češi (a Středoevropané vůbec) jsou jiţ po dlouhá desetiletí fascinováni indiánskou kulturou, z její současné produkce bylo českému publiku paradoxně zpřístupněno velmi málo. 27

In such a situation, the translator must take into account that not only does the majority of Czech readers not have the cultural knowledge expected of American or Canadian

(let alone Aboriginal) readers, but might also be biased by the previously encountered and perhaps misleading information. Hence it appears especially important for the translator to carefully choose a suitable method of mediating cultural information.

Moreover, as Nida points out:

The extent to which adjustments should be made depends very largely upon the audience for

which the translation is designed. For example, if it is to be used by those who have little or no

background in the subject matter and relatively little experience in ―decoding‖ such texts, a

greater degree of redundancy must be built into the translation. (Nida 226-7)

Thus, considering the differences between the respective cultures, it is probable that more additional information will be needed for a successful mediation of the source culture than how much of it could be seamlessly incorporated into the text (more detailed discussion follows in section 5).

Earlier in this chapter, various general aspects of the holistic approach to translation were discussed with focus on translating Aboriginal Canadian authors into

Czech in general. The next section will consider this approach in connection with a specific example of a translation from this cultural area.

3.8 Example: Translation of Eden Robinson’s “Terminal Avenue”

Before proceeding to the analysis of Monkey Beach, I will look in more detail at the translation of another Robinson‘s writing, the short story ―Terminal Avenue‖, and attempt to trace down the translation strategy applied to mediate the culture in this writing. The short story was chosen as an example of a text from the same cultural realm translated from English into Czech by someone else, among other reasons also

A co hůře, většina z toho, co Češi a Evropané vůbec o indiánech a jejich kulturách vědí, bylo nazíráno prizmatem evropských a amerických stereotypů a vyprávěno bělochy. 28 because it is the only other piece of writing by Robinson translated into Czech so far. It was translated by Dita Dvořáková and Lucie Martínková and published in the collection of short stories Vinnetou tady nebydlí under the title ―Slepá ulice‖.

Rather than depicting the current situation in a Native Canadian community (as

Monkey Beach or another Robinson‘s short story ―Queen of the North‖ do), this short story portrays a future Canadian society which has already ―solved‖ the Indian issue.

The short story touches upon many culture-specific issues, such as post-colonial racial clashes and oppression, but also Aboriginal traditions and rites as well as the importance of family. However, the story is rather short and hence does not provide much space for cultural reflection (and consequently, there are only few opportunities for translators‘ interventions). Thus despite Tymoczko‘s warning not to overestimate the significance of material culture accompanied by a suggestion to focus on larger frameworks and pay attention to ―aspects of culture that are less tangible on a physical level‖ (Tymoczko 238), dealing with material culture in the story seems to be a reasonable starting point in this case: several examples of specific translators‘ solutions follow.

Obviously, the ocean plays an important role in the Haisla people‘s lives, even if this has more to do with the geography of the tribe‘s home than with the culture itself.

A reference to the ocean, or rather the lifestyle connected with the ocean provides an example of the translators‘ intervention:

They hired free large seiners for the family and rode to Monkey Beach. (Avenue 473)

…tak si pro rodinu pronajali tři rybářské lodě a vypravili se na Monkey Beach. (Ulice 306)

The same example was employed to demonstrate the use of generalization in translation

(see section 3.2.1). This choice can easily be justified by the fact that most Czech readers would probably have very little knowledge of different kinds of fishing boats anyways, and it is likely that many of them would not know what ―seiner‖ actually is or

29 what fishing into a seine looks like. Moreover, the specific kind of boat is of little relevance for the story. ―Rybářská loď‖/‖a fishing boat‖ seems to an understandable enough option here.

Another example is a reference to a very specific kind of ritual that appears more than once in the short story:

At the funeral potlatch, his mother split his father‘s ceremonial regalia between Win and

Kevin. (Avenue 472)

Na pohřebním potlači rozdělila jeho matka otcovy obřadní regálie mezi Wila a Kevina.

(Ulice 303)

His father held a potlatch before they left Kitamaat… (Avenue 473)

Neţ opustili Kitamaat […] pořádal jejich otec potlač. (Ulice 306)

―Potlač‖ is a rather unfamiliar word with probably only little connotative meaning for most Czech readers. Kolinská explains that ―among the most ingenious and elaborate dramatic traditional rituals staged within Canada are potlatches, feasts connected with mutual giving of presents with complex structure that are held by tribes living on the

West coast of Canada‖8 (Kolinská 493). In this case, the translators chose to ―present cultural material with absolutely no explanation‖ (Tymoczko 229).

The following example will be similar:

Kevin… joined the Mohawk Warriors. He was at Oka on August 16 when the bombs rained

down and the last Canadian reserve was Adjusted. (Avenue 472).

Kevin… se přidal k Mohawským válečníkům. Šestnáctého srpna byl u města Oka, kdyţ

z nebe pršely bomby a bylo provedeno Přizpůsobení poslední kanadské rezervace. (Ulice

304)

Here, Robinson makes a clear reference to the recent Native history: by referring to the real Mohawk Warrior Society and to the Oka crisis of 1990 – one of the most well-

8 Mezi nejdůmyslnější a nejpropracovanější tradiční dramatické rituály inscenované na území Kanady patří potlače, hostiny spojené se sloţitě strukturovaným vzájemným obdarováváním, pořádané kmeny ţijícími na západním pobřeţí. 30 known of Aboriginal land disputes which gave an important precedent to similar following cases. „While Natives had been making claims for centuries, the ones put forth at Oka took a turn that left its mark on Canadian history― (Historica). Again, although minor clarification is made in the Czech translation – that the word Oka refers to ―město‖/―a town‖ – the cultural reference to a historically significant location or movement is not made accessible to the Czech reader.

Another clarification can be found in the following example:

To allay suspicion, he smuggles cigarettes and sweetgrass from the downtown core to

Surreycentral. (Avenue 472)

Aby zmírnil podezření, pašuje z centra města do Surreycentral cigarety a posvátnou trávu

dvojosinec. (Ulice 305)

In this case, an explicitation was used in order to clarify opaque reference, especially as for an average reader, ―dvojosinec‖ (unlike ―sweetgrass‖) is neither likely to imply any item related to Native culture, nor any kind of grass, thus the translators chose to insert an explanation that it is a kind of ―grass‖ which is ―sacred‖ for the Indians.

Obviously, the translators attempted to produce a very faithful translation. But although the examples show different solutions that the translators chose, the short text does not provide very many of them, and thus it would be hard to derive any substantial conclusions from them, or to understand the translators‘ motivations and intentions based on these examples. Besides, it should be noted that due to a high number of shorter texts from different Native American and Native Canadian cultures in the collection in which the short story was published, it would be rather problematic to include much additional information in other ways than by inserting shorter in-text explanations. Moreover, the collection did not aspire to mediate much information about the different cultures from which the texts originate, but rather to provide a glimpse of literature from a very unusual setting. Rambousek underlines the necessity to

31 choose between inserting explanations of unknown concepts and converting them into their Czech equivalents (Rambousek 501) and explains that terms like for example trickster ―would require explanations that would mean an unacceptable burden for the book‖9 (Rambousek 501). Therefore the overall intention of the collection should also be acknowledged as one of the shaping factors for translators‘ decisions.

3.9 Conclusion

Tymoczko‘s suggestion to think ―holistically‖ of culture present in the piece of literature to be translated proved to be very useful. The approach she suggests prompts the translator to consider various elements of the culture in question, try to delineate his or her own understanding of culture as such and its different demonstrations in the original writing as well as to adopt a specific strategy that would provide guidance in creating a target text complying with his or her intentions. Considering various means of mediating culture and their consequences before choosing a specific strategy is yet another useful step to make.

As it was suspected in the introductory section to the holistic approach, detecting in an existing translation what strategy the translator chose for translating the specific piece of writing proved not to be feasible, which however complies with another Tymoczko‘s notion that each translator‘s understanding of culture and approach to translating it would be slightly different and thus perhaps hard to pin down by someone else (see section 2.2). Nevertheless, the discussion of various aspects of the holistic approach to translation provided a basis for thinking holistically about different constituents of culture apparent in Robinson‘s novel Monkey Beach. The next chapter will therefore examine the role of culture in Monkey Beach with focus on elements that

9 Ve skutečnosti by tento i řada dalších pojmů a představ vyţadovaly výklad, který by knihu neúnosně zatíţil. 32 appear especially useful to consider in connection with the translation of the novel into

Czech.

4 Culture in Monkey Beach

As stated above, each text allows a whole range of interpretations and contains many potential meanings, thus for the translator as the one shaping the meanings of the given piece of literature in another language, it is useful to be aware of these possible implications of the original since it enables him or her to make informed decisions about the meanings which are being constructed. This analysis will not attempt to include every important or notable feature of Robinson‘s novel Monkey Beach, but rather, similarly as Tymoczko‘s repertory of significant constituents of culture in the source text, to point out themes which relate to the role of culture in the novel and which seem to be relevant for the translator to consider before or during the process of translating the book. In analyzing the role of culture, and specifically Aboriginal culture in Monkey Beach, Molly Blyth s dissertation “Tricky Stories Are the Cure:”

Contemporary Indigenous Writing in Canada proved to be especially useful as it engages in detail with many themes that concern the contemporary Aboriginal culture in

Monkey Beach as well as other Aboriginal Canadian writings. Moreover, many of the themes that she explores also proved to be relevant for the translation analysis and the translation itself. Before the individual themes are discussed, a short plot-summary follows as a way of introducing the novel.

The story of Monkey Beach is narrated by Lisamarie Michelle Hill, or Lisa, a nineteen-year old Haisla girl who has grown up in the Indian reserve of Kitamaat. The narrative starts when the fishing boat with Lisa‘s younger brother Jimmy goes missing at sea. As the story of the search for him evolves, Lisa goes back and forth between the

33 present and past, revealing the story of her life as well as of the events that finally lead to Jimmy‘s disappearance. In the present, Lisa‘s parents fly to the area of search, while

Lisa stays behind until she decides to travel by motorboat and join her parents as well as to undertake her own search for Jimmy on Monkey Beach (in which her ability to communicate with the Haisla spirit world is supposed to help her). Her ventures into the past depict the story of her and Jimmy‘s growing up in the reserve, as well as her encounters (and struggles) with supernatural beings, mainly from the Haisla tradition.

While she is growing up, Lisa is very much influenced by her Uncle Mick as well as by her grandmother, Ma-ma-oo, and therefore, she is deeply affected as she sees them both die tragically while she is still quite young.

There are many almost idyllic scenes in her childhood which she vividly describes with much affection, however, Lisa also suffers lack of understanding among her peers, bullying at school and later rape, and eventually, after Ma-ma-oo‘s death for which she partially blames herself, she quits school and runs away from home to

Vancouver, where the list of her misdeeds is extended by loitering and substance abuse.

After some time, she has a vision similar to her previous encounters with the spirit world that eventually leads to her return to the reserve and resuming the school.

However, soon after her return, her brother disappears and the two levels of the narrative merge. The story ends with Lisa on Monkey Beach (which was also the location of her first encounter with one of the supernatural beings, the sasquatch) stepping into the Land of the Dead in order to find a closure of her relationship with the deceased members of her family as well as to find out the truth about Jimmy‘s disappearance. In a rather ambiguous ending, it is implied that Lisa does indeed come back from the Land of the Dead into the world of living creatures. Within the story of coming of age in a Haisla community, various themes relating to the culture(s) in

34 question play an important role: those of them most significant for the translator to consider will be addressed in this chapter.

4.1 Hybridity as a Feature of Identity

Lisamarie‘s subjectivity is emphatically foregrounded as mixedblood and contradictory. She is

never defined as either ―this or that‖ but rather as ―both and more,‖ as Gerald McMaster so

succinctly puts it. (Blyth 96)

One of the most prominent characteristics of the novel‘s main protagonist Lisa is her background (which Lisa to a certain extent shares with the author of the novel): she is a member of the Haisla First Nation and she is growing up on the Haisla First Nation

Reserve of Kitamaat on the west coast of British Colombia. In her dissertation Tricky

Stories are the Cure, Molly Blyth argues that ―like that of her creator, Lisamarie‘s identity is impossible to pin down. Named after both Elvis Presley‘s daughter and her

Uncle Mick, she inhabits a liminal space, in-between ancient Haisla traditions and postmodern popular culture‖ (Blyth 80). Blyth characterizes Lisa as ―a troubled, rebellious but always strong and compelling character who is never portrayed as a victim despite experiencing the harrowing effects of colonization on her family and community. Instead, [Robinson] acknowledges and, indeed, celebrates her mixedblood subjectivity‖ (Blyth 81).

Kristina Fagan explains how this view of mainly Native (but also other post- colonial) literatures originates from the necessity to characterize communities which find themselves in situations when it is impossible to draw a line between what used to be two (or more) distinct cultures.

Robinson does indeed depict Haisla culture as interacting with other cultures, and of course,

her writing has a wider variety of influences. Viewing such writing as ―hybrid‖ is an approach

to Aboriginal literature […] [which offers] an alternative to binaries that would define

35

Aboriginal people as either ―pure‖ and ―traditional‖ or ―assimilated‖ and ―disappearing‖, the

hybridity approach instead celebrates the ability of cultures to blend. (Fagan 220)

Robinson makes it clear that Lisa (as well as other characters in the novel) resists any possibility of being labeled as belonging to either one or the other of the two prominent cultures that shape her identity – she belongs to both cultures and to neither wholly, the latter being a direct result of the fact that in the area in question, the two cultures are inevitably blending and inseparable from each other.

In doing so, Robinson also challenges the notion of ―traditional Indians‖ who are ―unspoilt‖ by the Western civilization as such: she undercuts the validity of and necessity for ―pure‖ traditions staying alive among the members of the community. Ma- ma-oo is probably the closest to a ―traditional‖ Indian, yet she is far from embodying the ideal of a ―pure‖ Indian. Being a grandmother to Lisa, she teaches her about history of their territory, the environment they live in, traditional ways of using herbs and fruits and of processing meat and fish, and even about spiritual practices, and significantly, she represents those still able to speak Haisla. At the same time, she embraces the

Western influence, most strikingly in her passion for watching soap-operas on TV; it is also implied by the fact that she had some of her children sent to a Christian boarding school, by remarks on how her life was influenced by certain governmental policies on various Native issues, and also by the fact that, despite her teachings about the healing potential of for example the powerful herb oxasuli, she is treated by a Western doctor and in a Western hospital when her health deteriorates and she acknowledges that the traditional Haisla medicine is indeed disappearing and even warns Lisa against its

―trickiness‖ (Monkey Beach 154).

Willmott provides an explanation to this state of affairs while observing that

―[t]he modern heritage for a Native people is not coherent... but radically heterogeneous and conflicted. It is ‗jagged‘[…], a ‗random puzzle‘ of ‗fragmentary worldviews‘. It

36 grows out of not only pre-contact traditions but post-contact processes and products of modernization‖ (qtd. in Blyth 103). All these examples and interpretations only highlight the fact that the hybridity of the characters whose identity is shaped on the

Canadian as well as Native territory are a significant feature of the novel as well as of the life which the novel depicts.

4.2 Myths and Traditions

Robinson fills her novel with popular references, with genre-blurring mythologies, and with

elliptical moments that foreclose her role as a Native informant. Instead, she focuses on the

discomfitures of Lisa‘s growing up in a non-cohesive Indigenous community that has lost

much of its self-understanding and whose violence closely mirrors that of white communities

nearby. (Dobson 61)

Despite their clashes and confrontations with the Western culture, Haisla myths and traditions take up a significant place in the novel. It is the incorporation of the mythology into the everyday life of the characters that positions the book within the scope of magic realism. Lisa encounters creatures like b‘gwus, or sasquatch, the little man with red hair, or the tree spirit; she has visions of the future and undertakes an excursion to the Land of the Dead. But again, none of the representations of the myths or tradition exists outside of the scope of the aforementioned pervasive hybridity. It was already pointed out that Ma-ma-oo plays an important role in Lisa‘s life and especially represents her connection to her Haisla background:

Ma-ma-oo is Lisamarie‘s spiritual mentor who teaches her Haisla traditions; however, those

traditions are always to be understood as mixedblood and hybrid as is Ma-ma-oo herself. As

such, Lisamarie‘s close association with the Haisla spirit world and her gift of prophecy which

Ma-ma-oo helps her understand is never represented as authentic or, indeed, as uncontaminated

by western culture. (Blyth 97-98)

37

The role of the myths and traditional stories in people‘s everyday lives and the ever changing nature of these myths are already hinted at in the first story that Lisa narrates to the readers: the story of the b‘gwus. Ma-ma-oo scolds Lisa‘s father Albert for not respecting the traditional way of telling a story of the b‘gwus and treating the story itself as a tale for children rather than a piece of cultural property or even tribal tradition:

―You‘re telling it wrong,‖ Ma-ma-oo had said once when she was over for Christmas dinner.

Every time Dad launched into his version, she punctuated his gory descriptions with, ―That‘s

not how it happened.‖

―Oh, Mother,‖ he‘d protested finally. ―It‘s just a story.‖

Her lips had pressed together until they were bloodless. She‘d left a few minutes later. (Monkey

Beach 8)

Obviously, Ma-ma-oo‘s understanding of the meaning of the story is sharply different from Albert‘s. Consequently, Lisa and her brother Jimmy are confronted with both versions: Albert‘s version which has obviously been influenced by other than traditional ways of story-telling and quite likely has indeed been successfully reduced to a children‘s tale; as well as Ma-ma-oo‘s version which seems (at least to a certain degree) to reflect the actual traditional way of telling the story. Both children acknowledge their preference for the non-Native way in this respect, as they prefer their father‘s non- conventional version over their grandmother‘s traditional one: ―Ma-ma-oo‘s version was less gruesome, with no one getting shot and the first trapper just seeing the b‘gwus crossing a glacier, getting scared and running back to the camp. Me and Jimmy liked

Dad‘s version better, especially when he did the sound effects‖ (Monkey Beach 9).

Blyth also enumerates some of the many occasions in the novel in which

―Lisamarie‘s character is represented as the re-invention of the invention Indian. In each, Robinson firmly resists any valorization or fetishization of either authentic

Indigenous identity or Haisla culture‖ (Blyth 96). These are mainly the occasions when

38 the motivation for a certain kind of behavior clearly comes from a Haisla tradition; however, the story then takes a different turn, acknowledging Western influence. For example, as Lisa‘s uncle Mick dies, Lisa wants to perform a traditional Haisla act of mourning a deceased beloved, yet, as Blyth observes, ―voyeuristic readers expecting a glimpse into an authentic Indigenous traditional experience are once again confronted with a disorienting and parodic destabilization of the simulation of the Indian‖ (Blyth

96), as Lisa does not have the necessary knowledge about the traditional procedure, and hence she ends up simply cutting and ―barbecuing‖ her hair on the family‘s hibachi

(Monkey Beach 175-6).

Another example of the hybridity of not just the characters, but also of the

Native mythology can be seen in the reoccurring appearance of the little man with red hair, or as Ma-ma-oo later explains to Lisa, the tree spirit. He clearly belongs to the

Haisla system of beliefs and his appearances highlight Lisa‘s connection to the Haisla spirit world, yet his visual aspect evolves in adjustment to Lisa‘s own perception abilities: the little man develops accordingly, as Lisa is coming of age and her understanding of his role in her life is gradually changing. Blyth observes that the little man himself is a blend of several (one could say hybrid) influences of various origins:

With references to trolls, leprechauns, a jingle shirt, amulets and cedar bark, the description of

Lisamarie‘s ‗little man‘ positions him as an incoherent and hybrid mix of Norwegian folktale,

Celtic fairytale, contemporary Indigenous powwow culture and Haisla myth. His refusal to

help Lisamarie, however, places him outside of the Judeo Christian tradition within which she

has been brought up. (Blyth 98-99)

Thus while this character firmly has its roots in the Haisla tradition and mythology, it can also serve as one of the best examples of hybridity and cultural blending present in the novel.

39

Some descriptions of traditional procedures that are included in the novel and that might seem at the first sight to be excursions into undefiled traditional Haisla ways provide in the end yet another opportunity for the author to undercut the notion of cultural ―purity‖. For example the description of processing salmonberries into a stew

(Monkey Beach 76-8) could be counted among the ―lengthy passages that describe the community‘s practices‖ (Dobson 60), yet despite the focus on the traditional aspect of the procedure, the scene is topped by the berries soaking while Ma-ma-oo accompanied by Lisa and Mick watches intently a typical Western soap-opera. This ―embrace of popular culture‖ is one of the means of ―shy[ing] away from embracing an uncritically or stereotypically ‗Native‘ perspective. [The novel] can be packaged as a Native book, but it cannot easily be read […] as a conventionally Native text‖ (Dobson 60). It is crucial to recognize the significance that myths and traditions play in the novel, but also to be aware of their hybridity as well as the complex cultural setting in which they appear.

4.3 Tricky Ways of Narrating: Dismantling the Boundaries

The dream world of North American Indian mythology is inhabited by the most fantastic

creatures, beings and events. Foremost among these beings is the ‗Trickster‘, as pivotal and

important a figure in our world as Christ in the realm of Christian mythology. (―A Note on the

Trickster‖)

Needless to say, the concept of the trickster occupies a crucial position in many Native

American cultures. Highway boldly claims that ―[w]ithout the continued presence of this extraordinary figure, the core of Indian culture would be gone forever‖ (―A Note on the Trickster‖). In his book Native Writers and Canadian Writing, W.H. New points out the implications of Trickster‘s qualities for his perception by the audience:

Embodying qualities of Native language and values, [Trickster] is funny, visceral, and may be

of either gender. Because [Trickster] is also mischievous and fallible, unlike Christ in the

40

European tradition, the Native listener must exercise his own judgment to learn from [his]

adventures, whereas Christ‘s followers need only obey precept and example. (New 255)

This is clearly demonstrated by Lisa‘s interactions with the little man with red hair (but also with other mythical characters in the book): she expects clear guidance, but just as

Ma-ma-oo warns her, the spirits are not reliable guides, thus Lisa is forced to exercise her own judgment if she wants his appearances in her life to be of any use for her. It is also due to this quality of the Trickster that such Trickster stories invite the receiver to actively participate in them. Reflecting this understanding, Blyth takes an interesting stand towards the concept as she argues that rather than looking for characters in the novel that would possess trickster qualities, it seems reasonable to search for trickster strategies that Robinson applies in her writing. Similarly as the trickster characters

―play tricks‖ on the audience, she compares to these tricks Robinson‘s ―dismantling of borders not only between humans, animals and mythic beings but also between the living and the dead‖ (Blyth 86). Vanderziel points out that ―another ‗boundary‘ often dismantled by Indian authors is the Western linear conception of time and succession of events. The works often reflect the Indian idea of the cyclic nature of the world, including its history and even time itself‖10 (Vanderziel 9). The blurriness of borders between different worlds, as well as between different ways of understanding the time is obviously a very prominent aspect of the novel.

The very beginning of the novel provides an example of such dismantling of borders between the worlds, in this case between humans and animals: the first words spoken out in the novel are not uttered by a human, but by crows, and moreover, they are spoken in Haisla: ―Six crows sit in our greengage tree. Half-awake, I hear them speak to me in Haisla. La‟es, they say,

La‟es, la‟es― (Monkey Beach 1). In this opening, the narrator claims her Haisla background and

10 Další ―hranicí‖, kterou indiánští autoři často boří, je západní lineární pojetí času a sledu událostí. Často se zde naopak pracuje s indiánskou představou cyklické povahy světa, včetně jeho dějin a dokonce i času samotného.

41 provides a glimpse to the reader into her reality in which crows are indeed able to speak to her in Haisla. Besides, the narrator talks about the supernatural beings in such a way as if they were commonplace occurrences, for examples as she says: ―I wish the dead would just come out and say what they mean instead of being so passive-aggressive about the whole thing‖ (Monkey

Beach 17). This attitude seems to be instilled into Lisa by Ma-ma-oo, or at least strongly inspired by her own attitudes which are apparent in the following conversation between Ma-ma- oo and Lisa:

The graveyard was filled with creaking trees and skittering things. The woods were shadowed

and eerie.

―You scared?‖

I shook my head.

―Good. Don‘t be scared. Only ghosts here are relations.‖ (Monkey Beach 173)

It is also Ma-ma-oo who teaches Lisa to celebrate birthdays of the deceased beloved ones in the traditional way, by burning treats that the person liked when they were alive.

This tradition again reflects the stance that the dead are still part of this world and that it is still possible to interact with them: significantly, Lisa accepts this and observes this tradition after her Uncle Mick dies. Thanks to this attitude, when years after Mick‘s death, Lisa encounters him on Monkey Beach during her venture into the Land of the

Death, she behaves in the same way as she did when he was alive. She is used to the dead being still part of her world and she is not even surprised to see him; the first sentence she says to him is even reproachful: ―‗Why didn‘t you visit me?‘ I said. ‗Why did you stay away?‘ He kissed the top of my head. ‗I‘m here now. And we have a tree to pick. I think this one is just dandy‘‖ (Monkey Beach 367-8).

However, Lisa‘s stance towards supernatural creatures seems somewhat ambivalent, as if she could not decide if she appreciates their presence in her life or not:

[T]he house was filled with the sounds of ghosts murmuring. Ma-ma-oo rested on the couch by

the window.

42

―There‘s Mimayus,‖ Ma-ma-oo said to me, pointing her teaspoon at the corner of the room.

―And Solomon, and Bertha, and Hector, and Vern – oh, I had eyes for him when he was

young.‖

―You see them?‖ I said. I could catch movement from the corner of my eyes and caught the

whiff of cigarettes, but I couldn‘t see them clearly and didn‘t want to.

―They came this morning,‖ she said. (Monkey Beach 289)

This ambivalence is especially apparent in the case of the little man with red hair, the tree spirit who is also the messenger of bad things to come: ―As I grew older, he became a variation of the monster under the bed or the thing in the closet, a nightmare that faded with morning‖ (Monkey Beach 27). Lisa comes to the conclusion that if she cannot stop tragic things from happening, there is no use for her to have the hunch beforehand, and she decides that she does not want the little man to visit her any more: ―Early in the morning, the little man woke me by touching my shoulder. […] I threw my pillow at him and screamed, ‗Get out! Get out of here, you goddamned little bastard!‘‖ (234). She chases the tree spirit out of her life; however, once he is gone, she realizes that she misses the warnings: ―‘Ma-ma-oo had a stroke,‘ Mom said. […] Until that moment, I had never appreciated the little man. This is, I thought, how it‘s for everybody else.

Hello, it‘s bad news. Bam‖ (283).

Obviously, these supernatural characters as such play a significant role in the novel. As all of these creatures represent some kind of connection to Lisa‘s Haisla heritage (may it be her Haisla ancestors various materialized characters from the Haisla mythology like the b‘gwus or the tree spirit), and her ambivalent attitude towards them can be understood as representative of Lisa‘s ambivalent attitude towards her Haisla background. One way or the other, the reality in which these beings coexist with humans cannot be clearly distinguished from the reality of Lisa‘s life: it is important to

43 realize that these beings are not intruders to Lisa‘s world, but rather that she inhabits the same world as them and in this world, all these creatures have their place.

4.3 The Spoken and the Unspoken

Another peculiar aspect of the novel is its way of withholding and revealing the truth.

Quite often, the narrator is very open, the book even includes some graphic images (for example of Mick‘s and Ma-ma-oo‘s mutilated bodies), yet on other occasions, the author uses only very subtle hints at certain unspoken realities, thus creating a whole new level of the narrative: the level of what is suspected, but left unspoken, or perhaps even a level of what cannot be spoken out. Dobson observes that although the general topic of ―colonization […] is surprisingly muted in the text‖ (Dobson 61), major significance can be assigned to ―an ever-present but unspoken trauma. Such unspeakability is everywhere in Monkey Beach‖ (Dobson 61).

Although from the beginning on, the disappearance of Jimmy and Uncle Josh is one of the central themes in the novel, only marginal space is dedicated to the event and for most part of the book, the reader does not know why it happened and how.

Close to the end, Lisa has a vision in which Jimmy kills Josh after he finds out that Josh had been sexually abusing his niece, Jimmy‘s much adored girlfriend Karaoke, since her early childhood. The character of Josh does not receive much attention throughout the book and does not have the depth which the main characters do, yet it is suggested that he is tangled up in a cycle of abuse, since as an adult he becomes a perpetrator of the same crime of which he was a victim as a child when he was sexually abused by a priest in a residential school (Monkey Beach 365). This grim secret is only revealed at the end of the book, although Lisa who keeps moving back and forth in time while narrating the story knows about it already at the beginning of the novel. She even hints at the secret when she first talks about how the Coast Guard told her family about the disappearance

44 of Josh and Jimmy at sea: ―Did I know of anything else that could be helpful? No, I said. It wasn‘t really a lie. What I knew wouldn‘t be particularly useful now‖ (Monkey

Beach 6).

The trauma of the boarding school abuse is also implied, but not elaborated on in the story of Mick who is deeply disturbed and who repeatedly attempts to express his resistance against the society he lives in. Mick openly accuses the residential school trauma of his distress, for example he shouts during an argument with his relatives:

―You look at your precious church. You look at what they did. You never went to residential school. You can‘t tell me what I fucking went through and what I didn‘t‖

(Monkey Beach 109). Similarly, Aunt Trudy‘s alcoholism and inability to lead a normal life is as well linked to her childhood trauma – Trudy‘s daughter Tab tells Lisa: ―You‘re really lucky that your dad was too young to go to rez school. […] Just Mick and my mom went and it fucked them up― (Monkey Beach 254). The narrator either does not know or does not reveal what exactly happened to either of them in the residential school; however, Trudy hints at the experiences as she teaches Lisa how she should not argue with white men. Lisa claims that the aggressive men with whom she got into an argument would not have done anything to her, but Trudy opposes her:

―Honey,‖ she said, ―if you were some little white girl, that would be true. But you‘re a mouthy

Indian, and everyone thinks we‘re born sluts. Those guys would have said you were asking for

it and got off scot-free.‖

―No, they wouldn‘t.‖

―Facts of life, girly. There were tons of priests in the residential schools, tons of fucking

matrons and helpers that „helped‟ themselves to little kids just like you. You look at me and tell

me how many of them got away scot-free.‖

[…]

―Lisa,‖ she said, ―no one would have cared. You would have been hurt or dead, and no one

would have given a flying fuck.‖ (Monkey Beach 255, my emphasis)

45

Dobson points out that ―[i]n part, the novel‘s silences are the result of Lisa‘s youth, in which she remains largely ignorant of Haisla culture but it is also a calculated tactic. Comments made to Lisa, or conversations between adults, are fractured mid- sentence, suspended so as to protect her from harmful knowledge‖ (Dobson 61). This is apparent from conversations like the following one between Lisa and her mother:

―Is there a village here?‖

Mom shook her head. ―Used to be.‖

―What happened?‖

She looked down at me. ―Most of the people died.‖

―How?‖

―They just died,‖ she said, her lips thinning. (Monkey Beach 100)

In this conversation, Lisa‘s mother decides not to tell Lisa the whole story. Similarly,

Mick‘s friend Barry talks to Lisa at Mick‘s funeral, but during the conversation, he decided that even if Lisa is to know certain facts, she should learn them later: ―Did

Mick tell you about Washington and the Trail of Broken Treaties?‖ ―When A.I.M occupied the Bureau of Indian Affairs building?‖ ―Yeah.‖ He started to tell me about it, then said he‘d explain it to me when I was older‖ (Monkey Beach 146). On other occasions, the adult revealing to Lisa something grave does not decide to protect her from the knowledge, but is interrupted by something or someone else anyways, as in

Lisa‘s conversation with Josh, when she asks him about Mick‘s wife (about whom, not surprisingly, Mick never talks):

―Someone tied her up and put her in her car. Then they set it on fire. It was way the hell in the

middle of nowhere. The police said it was a suicide and the FBI–―

―What‘s all the glum faces about?‖ Aunt Trudy asked as she sat down beside me.

―She asked about Cookie,‖ he said

46

―Oh, God,‖ Aunt Trudy said, grimacing. ―This is my last night of freedom and you two wanna

bring me down.‖ She shook her head. ―That‘s enough of this. Who wants to dance!‖ (Monkey

beach 309)

There are many other topics in Monkey Beach which follow a similar pattern.

Karaoke is neither able to reveal her secret of being sexually abused by her Uncle Josh for many years, nor that the reason for her travel to Vancouver is the abortion which she has to undergo after her uncle makes her pregnant. When Jimmy finds out about it, he does not tell anyone either, nor does he reveal to anybody his intentions to kill Josh.

Similarly, Lisa keeps it secret that she knows about the situation between Karaoke,

Jimmy and Josh, just as she kept silence after she was raped. She is even reluctant to talk about her encounters with the spirit world (the little man as well as the b‘gwus) and only later finds out from Ma-ma-oo that her own mother used to have a gift of talking to the spirit world, yet never admitted this to Lisa. The list could go on.

Although Lisa opposes this pattern at first and keeps asking questions to her elders, gradually, she comes to accept the unspeakability of certain truths and eventually even encourages other members of the community to not reveal their secrets, as it might be better to keep them concealed. This can be seen for example in the following conversation between Lisa and her childhood friend Frank which takes places after their other friend Pooch commits suicide:

―Pooch. I saw Pooch.‖

―The day he shot himself?‖

He nodded again.

―That‘s a death sending,‖ I said. ―It‘s nothing to worry about. He probably just wanted to say

goodbye.‖

―Mm-hmm,‖ Frank said, obviously only half-listening, distressed. ―I saw that. He said… he…‖

―Hey, hey, hey,‖ I said when he started to hyperventilate. ―You don‘t even have to tell me,

okay?‖ (Monkey Beach 313)

47

Later, Lisa insists on the truth to not be disclosed to her, and she succeeds:

Frank leaned forward. In a hushed voice, he said, ―Listen…‖ He stopped again. He seemed to

want to say something important, but I wasn‘t up to any big revelations.

―I‘m going to get you a donut.‖

When I came back, he was smoking… (Monkey Beach 314)

Dobson argues that ―these ellipses also have the effect of removing the cultural specificity of the text and pushing it towards a more universal register‖ (Dobson 62).

The characters suffered trauma or lack the ability to speak out about their issues and that is all the readers need to know. The text does not bring into foreground that the characters‘ traumas might be direct results of their cultural situation, or their ethnic background in the context of Canada‘s Aboriginal policies. On the other hand, these significant silences can also be understood in a very different, or actually the exactly opposite way. In her essay ―Weesageechak Meets the Weetigo: Storytelling, Humour, and Trauma in the Fiction of Richard Van Camp, Tomson Highway, and Eden

Robinson‖, Kristina Fagan argues that Aboriginal people generally prefer indirect ways of communication, like story-telling or humor or complete avoidance of confrontation as a result of different ethical principles prevalent within Aboriginal communities, because ―the direct communication encouraged by Western trauma theory often clashes with Aboriginal means of expression― (Fagan, 207). Fagan points out that the tendency to not testify against one‘s wrong-doers or to not speak up about one‘s traumas seems to result from three basic ethical principles prevailing in many Native Canadian communities: firstly, the ethic of non-interference; secondly, the ethic that ―it is wrong to express anger and grief, especially towards family members‖, and thirdly, ―the belief that people are fundamentally good and that the emphasis should be on encouraging the restoration of that goodness, rather than the prohibition and punishment of wrongs‖

(Fagan 208-9). She also observes that these ―ethical principles emerged at a time when

48

Aboriginal people lived primarily in small, family-based groups. They arise out of the interrelatedness and interdependence of group members and encourage personal submission to the community‘s need for harmony‖ (209). Thus these silences and behavior patterns that encourage the continuation of them might be understood as resulting from the fact that the community in question is a Haisla community with a history of struggle within the Canadian society and in which such principles prevail.

These principles are also detectable in the novel on various occasions when direct confrontation is avoided, as for example in the aforementioned scene of Ma-ma- oo‘s disagreement with Lisa‘s father (quoted already in 4.2):

―You‘re telling it wrong,‖ Ma-ma-oo had said once when she was over for Christmas dinner.

Every time Dad launched into his version, she punctuated his gory descriptions with, ―That‘s

not how it happened.‖

―Oh, Mother,‖ he‘d protested finally. ―It‘s just a story.‖

Her lips had pressed together until they were bloodless. She‘d left a few minutes later. She‟d

left a few minutes later. Mom had kissed Dad‟s nose and said family was family. (Monkey

Beach 8, my emphasis)

These observations about ethical principles that lead to keeping silence about traumatic realities clearly resonate with many examples of suspended silences mentioned earlier in this section as well.

4.4 Language in Monkey Beach

Colonial audiences are looking for the familiar figure of the Native informant. ―But to really

understand the old stories,‖ cautions protagonist Lisamarie Hill‘s grandmother, Ma-ma-oo, in

Monkey Beach, ―you had to speak Haisla‖ (211). (Dobson 54)

Just like Highway uses Cree in Kiss of the Fur Queen, Robinson incorporates bits and pieces of the Haisla language into the novel and references to Haisla to remind the reader that the novel is set in a culture which formulates its values and its understanding

49 of the world in a language different from English. Thus the readers should also be reminded that they only have a limited access to understanding the community‘s culture and values. Dobson argues that: ―The final unspeakability of Haisla life in English acts as a barrier to cross-cultural appropriation, an important limit on the novel‘s potential function as a sociological or ethnographic document‖ (Dobson 54). As Ma-ma-oo reminds Lisa, to understand the old stories and to understand certain truths as well, one has to have access to their Haisla formulations.

But even for some members of the community, the Haisla language and thus a part of the cultural heritage is already beyond their reach, as the younger generation does not speak Haisla anymore. This shows how the community has been disrupted and how the relationship of these young people, most prominently of Lisa, to their Native heritage has been disrupted as well. For instance, Lisa‘s interactions with the spirit world which is closely connected to the Haisla culture is distorted by the fact that Lisa, not knowing the Haisla language, does not understand meaning of messages that she is receiving from the spirit world: ―La‟es – Go down to the bottom of the ocean. The word means something else, but I can‘t remember what‖ (Monkey Beach 1, emphasis in the original). Similarly, when Ma-ma-oo takes Lisa with her to celebrate the birthday of her late husband, she says some words in Haisla that Lisa does not understand (Monkey

Beach 78) but later, when Ma-ma-oo encourages her to speak to her grandfather, Lisa announces to him proudly: ―‗Hello, Ba-ba-oo. I can count to ten in Haisla.‘ I said. I‘d been telling everyone that all day, but no one would listen. ‗Want to hear?‘ ‗Go ahead, he‘s listening‘‖ (Monkey Beach 79). This shows two opposing tendencies within the community: firstly, Lisa is making an attempt to learn the language of her ancestors, and secondly, she nevertheless finds little support for her endeavor among her elders.

50

However, despite these changes, the Haisla language does not disappear from the community. Elements of it are incorporated into English which leads to linguistic hybridity, and consequently, the two languages coexist and/or influence each other. The coexistence is apparent in the following conversation between Lisa and her grandmother:

―I cut my hair when he died. I talk to him every day.‖

―What do you say?‖

She sang a low, sad song, first in Haisla, then in English. (Monkey Beach 174)

Haisla is also used to fill the linguistic gaps when English lacks the specific expression:

―Look,‖ [Ma-ma-oo] said, coming up to a bush. ―See these ones? Pipxs‟m.‖

―That‘s what you call blueberries in Haisla?‖

―No, no, just these blueberries. See, they have white stuff on them. Pipxs‟m means ‗berries

with mould on them.‘‖ […] We found the other kind, sya‟k°nalh, ―the real blueberry,‖ […] we

found the third type […]. Their Haisla name is mimayus, which, loosely translated, means

―pain in the ass,‖ because although they taste wonderful, they‘re hard to find and pick.

(Monkey Beach 159-60)

Besides, the narrator builds into the story didactic explanations of the specific use of languages or generally of the linguistic situation in the area, as in the following paragraph:

In the past, most of the groups spoke different languages, so a trade language called Chinook

was created, which combined the easiest-to-pronounce word in the languages into a pidgin, a

patois. Oolichan is the Chinook word for the fish, but in Haisla, they‘re called jak‟un. (Monkey

Beach 93)

Such comments very explicitly remind the reader of pre-colonial practices and of the continuous presence of languages other than English in the communities. Besides, compared to Highway, Robinson uses much less of her Native language in the novel.

Unlike Highway who sometimes uses whole sentences in Cree and whose characters have conversations in Cree, Robinson uses mostly just isolated Haisla expressions in the

51 otherwise English text. Moreover, most of these expressions are translated or explained inside the text, although some expressions are simply presented to the readers without any explanation (for example ―Yowtz‖: a Haisla greeting).

4.5 Genre and Structure

The novel has a very distinct structure, with many different genres, ways or narrating and themes interwoven into each other. Blyth observes that the main story line ―frames a confusing hybrid mixture of didactic texts […], fragments from dreams and fantasies, dazzling pieces of poetry, segments from histories and legends, self-help books and medical texts as well as recipes for traditional Haisla/Heiltsuk food‖ (Blyth 91). One of the most characteristic features of the novel is ―the disruption of chronological time with flash forwards and flashbacks and the dizzying display of alternate genres, discourses and storytelling forms‖ (Blyth 84). Besides, the way time is dealt with reflects more the Native understanding of the cyclic nature of time rather than the

Western linear one, and themes, too, tend to appear in the novel in cycles, as for example sudden interludes dedicated to the medical description of human heart or to lessons in contacting the dead. Vanderziel points out that such ―transcending (or dismantling) of borders – apparent in the flux from one genre into another – is perhaps the most distinct feature of the contemporary literature by North American Indians.11

(Vanderziel 9, my emphasis).

According to Blyth, the novel might be viewed as belonging to all the following genres: a mystery book, a realist classic novel, a story of a spiritual quest, a coming-of-age novel/Bildungsroman or a thriller – all European genres easily accessible to European/Western (as opposed to Native Canadian) readers (Blyth 82). She also

11 Právě překračování (či rušení) hranic – patrné v přecházení od ţánru k ţánru – je rysem, který snad nejlépe definuje současnou literaturu severoamerických indiánů. 52 suggest that by ‖appropriating these traditional literary forms in Monkey Beach,

Robinson seemingly offers, at least on one level, an easily accessible and comfortable reading experience with the promise of closure compelling consumers to keep turning the page‖ (Blyth 82). However, the promise is not to be fulfilled and ―the novel in trickster fashion brilliantly subverts the expectations of readers‖ (Blyth 84) by an open ending which is moreover quite ambiguous. . Significantly, the ending of the novel finds Lisa on Monkey Beach. Blyth also argues that ―[r]eaders should know to expect ambiguity rather than closure at the conclusion because, much earlier in the novel,

Monkey Beach is also characterized as a liminal space― (Blyth 86) and the space itself does indeed have some trickster qualities. ―Once more inhabiting the zone of the trickster, she again crosses the boundary between the ‗real‘ and the Haisla spirit worlds but now, for the first time, between the living and the dead‖ (Blyth 87, emphasis in the original). The ambiguous ending might leave the reader in doubts about what exactly happened there and how Lisa‘s story will develop now; it definitely allows multiple interpretations. Once again, as in any other encounter with a trickster quality, the receiver is invited to participate in creating the story.

5 Strategy for Translating Monkey Beach

All the different constituents of Native Canadian culture depicted in the novel which were discussed in the previous chapter represent important features of Monkey Beach and the translator should therefore always keep in mind when choosing the overall translation strategy and when making specific decisions during the process of translating. Although, as mentioned above, it is hardly feasible to formulate an exact strategy that could be consistently applied to the whole novel of almost four hundred pages, this chapter will outline the overall strategy for translating culture in Monkey

53

Beach and address its different constituents; examples of specific demonstrations of the strategy in the final translation will be listed.

5.1 Overall Strategy

As explained in the discussion in section 2.4, it is not possible to transfer ―all the meaning and all types of meaning that a text encodes and that are indicated by its context and elicited by its reading― (Tymoczko 288). And although the novel offers the readers a glimpse of a culture (in the sense of a people with its own traditions, habits, practices and values) which is probably quite exotic and unknown to the Czech readers, it does not in any way aspire to serve as a study guide for the depicted culture. Rather, the novel tells a story in which the cultural background of the characters does not only outline the settings, but also contributes many other unique elements, such as various mythical and supernatural beings, distinct behavior patterns or coping strategies. Hence the translation attempts to not be more explanatory than necessary, but rather tries to bring the text closer to the reader by reflecting these elements as faithfully as possible, while at the same time, it attempts to mediate cultural knowledge that is likely to be unknown to the Czech readers and lack of which might obscure understanding of the text.

While choosing a way of doing so, it appeared especially important to consider the author‘s way of dealing with secrets and using silences in the novel, discussed above

(section 4.3). Such a narrative strategy not only reflects a significant trait of an

Aboriginal society (as outlined by Fagan), but also constitutes an important feature of

Robinson‘s own writing style. Hence it seems crucial to reflect these gaps and silences in the translation – an intention which, inevitably, contradicts the aim to mediate the unknown cultural setting by adding information. This becomes especially relevant in case of references to those elements of material culture which are very likely to be

54 known to a Canadian audience (for example references to the American Indian

Movement, compulsory residential schools for Aboriginal children, etc.) and Robinson hence could assume that due to the shared cultural knowledge, even hints at certain realities would evoke understanding among her readers. Therefore, it seems practical to spare the text much intratextual explanation since such explanations would disturb

Robinson‘s style and affect the nature of the text by changing its focus (as outlined by

Tymoczko, see section 3.4).

For these reasons, it appears that the cultural information that seems crucial in mediating the understanding can be most aptly presented to the target audience in the form of a paratext which would accompany the translation since this form makes it possible to include additional information without disturbing the author‘s laconic and evasive style of narrating. The most appropriate option in this case seems to be a preface

(or alternatively, an afterword) which would inform the reader about some culture- specific themes in the novel and bring his or her attention to them as in many cases it might not be clear to the reader that some of the references actually rely on cultural knowledge; and which would touch upon some of the themes addressed in chapter 4.

For the reasons mentioned above (see section 4.4), it does not appear necessary to include a glossary of Haisla terms into the translation since, firstly, the original (unlike, for example, Kiss of the Fur Queen) does not include one either and, secondly, the way

Haisla terms are used in the novel makes it possible to rely on the reader‘s spontaneous understanding of their meaning and/or role in the text. The glossary could only be useful in order to clarify some culture-specific elements of the (not only Native) Canadian culture. However, a glossary can only provide dictionary-like short explanations of specific expressions or references, while a preface/afterword can clarify larger cultural frames of the (most probably much more exotic) Aboriginal culture. It seems more

55 justifiable to present to the reader a text which is strongly rooted in a foreign culture in which terms and expressions are present that might not be clear to the reader than to present a text in which concepts and principles would constitute material too opaque for the reader to comprehend. If including too much paratextual material in the book is to be avoided and therefore a choice should be made between either a preface/afterword or a glossary of terms, then a preface/afterword is strongly preferred, as it appears to be a more useful tool of bridging the gap between the source and the target culture in this specific novel.

The addition of a preface/afterword as a way of educating the reader about certain relevant facts is moreover consistent with the fact that the novel already includes this element of teaching the reader about the culture in question and hence such additions is in concordance with this distinct aspect of the novel (mentioned in section

4.5). Robinson incorporates into the text short didactic ―lectures‖ on geography and history of the region as well as on the Haisla language and other languages of the area.

These resonate with her rather bizarre instructions for scrutinizing one‘s own heart or the lessons in contacting the death. However, her interludes about geography, history and language are based on reality and together with traditional Haisla recipes and ways of processing food and references to specific traditions serve to provide background information about the Haisla culture to (mainly non-Native Canadian, but possibly also other English-speaking) readers who are unfamiliar with it. In this respect, the original writing behaves similarly to how a translation would behave when trying to bridge the gap between the source and target culture, since the novel already includes two (even if interwoven) cultures as well as languages. As Tymoczko points out, the concept of culture will include slightly different things for each translator, as each translator‘s understanding of it and its constituent is unique. I perceived different behavior patterns

56 of Robinson‘s characters and their ways of interacting with each other as another constituent of the culture traceable in the novel; therefore, while translating, it also appeared crucial to reflect these as closely as possible as a way of bringing this element of the Native Canadian culture closer to the Czech reader. From this perspective, addressing a significant theme in a paratext that accompanies the novel, including a didactic section teaching about history, geography or language and closely mirroring characters‘ interactions in the novel all constitute different ways of bridging gaps between all the cultures in question.

One of the goals of the translation was to closely reflect the themes that were addressed in detail in chapter 4, so that all aspects that were discussed as constituents of culture in the original remain traceable as such in the translation as well. Besides mirroring Robinson‘s way of dealing with silences and secrets by retaining her laconic way of expression, the translation strives to make apparent the theme of cultural hybridity by exposing the characters‘ belonging into both Canadian and Native societies and the mutual influences of the two cultures; and it attempts to reflect the themes of

Native mythology and traditions, blending of different worlds, layers of time and narrative by making it a priority to construct the translation in such a way that these elements of the original can be perceived by the Czech readers. Not surprisingly, the role of language in the novel has drawn the most attention to itself in the process of translation, thus the discussion of various shifts (as described by Katan) will start by discussing examples from this area.

5.2 Haisla and English in the Czech Translation

As explained above (sections 3.6 and 4.4), the presence of another language is a significant feature of Monkey Beach. Logically, in the transfer of this novel from

English into Czech, a new linguistic level is added, and consequently, a story is told in

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Czech, about a community speaking in English, with references to Haisla as another language highly relevant in the community. This section will examine how the two original languages are dealt with in the translation, providing specific examples that should reflect the overall strategy which was adopted for translating culture.

For the reasons stated in section 4.4, and above all, because Robinson uses only isolated Haisla words in the English text and usually either translates them or explains their meaning is some other way as well, it was possible for the translation to mirror very closely the way Haisla is used in the original, as it is apparent in the following four examples:

La‟es, they say, La‟es, la‟es. (Monkey Beach 1)

La‟es, volají, La‟es, la‟es.

Mick opened the door and stepped inside, then said, ―Yowtz!‖ (Monkey Beach 74)

Mick otevřel dveře, vešel dovnitř a zavolal: „Yowtz!―

She did the cleaning and deboning, and Ma-ma-oo did the datla, carefully slicing the salmon

for smoking. (Monkey Beach 149)

Sama ryby čistila a vykosťovala, Ma-ma-oo měla na starosti porcování plátků masa k uzení,

datla.

The people had made nets out of du‟qua, stinging nettle, and it was growing wild

everywhere. (Monkey Beach 150).

Lidé si tu sítě splétávali z du‟qua, kopřivy dvoudomé, která rostla divoce všude kolem.

Somewhat more complex is the situation concerning expressions ―b‘gwus‖/‖sasquatch‖ that appear several times in the book. The Haisla expression ―b‘gwus‖ is used interchangeably with the English ―sasquatch‖ which is commonly used in Canada and originates from another First Nation language, Halkomelem (Merriam-Webster). When

58 the Haisla expression appears in the text for the first time, it is already clear what it refers to (hence retaining the Haisla word in the Czech translation was not problematic):

When we were kids, Dad would tell us about B‘gwus, the wild man of the woods. (Monkey

Beach 7)

Kdyţ jsme byli malí, táta nám vyprávěl historky o b‗gwusech, divokých lesních muţích.

Similarly, it is clear that the term is interchangeable with the English sasquatch, as the story is told of the b‘gwus and then ―the other sasquatches‖ (8) are referred to. In the

Czech environment, a creature matching the description of a sasquatch would most probably be called ―yetti‖, although this expression usually refers to such creatures living in the Himalayas, or ―sněţný muţ‖/‖man of the snow‖ which however would seem quite inept in this context, as the sasquatches in Monkey Beach live in forests. In the Czech translation, the Haisla word ―b‘gwus‖ is used, following the pattern of other

Haisla words that were incorporated into the text, along with the word ―saskvoč‖ which is a newly coined expression closely mirroring the usual Canadian denomination sasquatch, but likely to be easier for Czech readers to read and pronounce. It was chosen as the other two aforementioned options seemed inadequate as well as to reflect the creature‘s origin which is supposed to be the western Canada (Merriam-Webster).

It has already been discussed in connection with Robinson‘s short story

―Terminal Avenue‖ how the close connection between the community and the ocean leads to the knowledge of different means of fishing among the members of the community. Interestingly, the same situation occurs in Monkey Beach as was faced by the translators of ―Terminal Avenue‖, as in the novel, the author uses names of specific kinds of fishing boats as well, namely ―seiner‖ and ―gillnetter‖. When used for the first time in the novel, it would probably not be clear from the contexts to what the word

―seiner‖ refers, hence the same strategy was applied as in the case of the short story: generalization of the term to ―rybářská loď‖/‖fishing boat‖.

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Weather reports are all favourable for the area where his seiner went missing. (Monkey Beach

2)

O počasí v oblasti, kde jejich rybářská loď zmizela, přicházejí samé příznivé zprávy.

However, as later it is clear that ―seiner‖ with Lisa‘s brother Jimmy on board which went missing is ―a fishing boat‖, the word ―seiner‖ is used to refer to the vessel:

If they had found the seiner, someone would phone us (Monkey Beach 3)

Kdyby jejich seiner našli, někdo by nám to zavolal.

Using the specific name of the kind of fishing boat reflects how, due to the proximity of the ocean, the characters are comfortable with different terms that relate to open-sea fishing, and differentiates ―seiners‖ from other kinds of fishing boats that are mentioned in the novel:

―We have an overdue vessel.‖ She goes on to describe a gillnetter that should have been in

Rupert four days ago. (Monkey Beach 3-4)

„Máme tu zpoţděné plavidlo.― Pak popisuje gillnetter, který měl v Rupertu být uţ před

čtyřmi dny.

However, it should be admitted that the translation into Czech by words ―seiner‖ and

―gillnetter‖ is, to a certain degree, a distortion (as Katan defines it). Although these words are used to refer to these kinds of boats in Czech as well, only very few people can be expected to be familiar with them, as only very few potential Czech readers have much experience with or interest in open-sea fishing. Hence, these words do indeed draw some attention to themselves due to their foreignness. This, however, seems to be inevitable due to the actual differences between the two nations‘ geographies.

Besides, English tends to generally draw more attention to itself in the translation as it stands for the newly added linguistic level in the novel, the middle-level which was not present in the original since the original only negotiated between two languages the roles of which were more or less clear, while in the translation, three languages are presents. The presence of English might even be somewhat striking for

60 the readers, especially when it is openly acknowledged. The most blatant example of such acknowledgement (within the translated passage) is the following situation:

…I saw this plain headstone with nothing on it but the number IOO and a backwards F. Since

it was simple to copy, I put my paper against it and rubbed my pencil across the surface. As I

was standing in front of the class, I held up the paper and the light shone through it. IOOF

was really ―Fool‖ backwards. (Monkey Beach 140)

…já jsem ale uviděla prostý náhrobek, na kterém nebylo nic neţ číslo 100 a obrácené

písmeno F. Protoţe se to dalo lehko otisknout, přiloţila jsem k nápisu papír a přejíţděla po

něm tuhou. Kdyţ jsem stála u tabule před celou třídou a svůj papír zvedla, prosvítalo jím

světlo. 100 a obrácené F bylo ve skutečnosti pozpátku napsané „Fool―, coţ v angličtině

znamená blázen.

In a situation like this where the spelling of the word plays a role as well (and where using only a Czech word would probably look rather strange) leaving the word as it is and adding a Czech translation next to it seems the most convenient option, although it draws some extra attention to the language (compared with the original): it reminds the reader that the language that is used by the characters is different from the language in which the story is narrated. However, it is useful for this purpose that Robinson often does something very similar in connection with Haisla (mentioning a Haisla word together with its translation into English), hence such an open reference to the language is likely to blend in with many other similar references when the language in question is

Haisla and with other references to language such as in the already quoted passage:

―She sang a low, sad song, first in Haisla, then in English‖ (Monkey Beach 174).

Similarly, a certain degree of distortion occurs in the following examples, when names of English songs are left in English in the Czech translation. In the following sentence, it is mainly significant that Lisa, as she is trying to establish contact with her deceased Uncle Mick, plays a song for him by Mick‘s favorite singer, Elvis

Presley:

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I turned on the tape recorder and Elvis sang ―Such a Night‖. (Monkey Beach 148)

Pustila jsem kazeťák a Elvis začal zpívat „Such a Night―.

Moreover, it would seem strange to translate names of songs, since in Czech, it is common to refer to names of foreign songs in their original language, especially as they are more likely to be known under their English names (if at all) than under Czech translations of the names. Therefore, once again, the presence of English in the Czech text seems to be impossible to avoid without importing some other kind of clumsiness.

Making this decision was a bit more difficult in the case of the following songs as the meanings of the titles are more relevant:

As we drove, Mick played Elvis and homemade tapes that his friends had sent him, with

songs like ―FBI Lies,‖ ―Fuck the Oppressors‖ and, my favourite, ―I Shot Custer.‖ (Monkey

Beach 68)

Cestou pouštěl kazety Elvise a nahrávky, co mu poslali jeho kamarádi, písničky jako „FBI

Lies―, „Fuck the Oppressors― a moji oblíbenou „I Shot Custer.―

These titles refer to songs that, unlike Elvis Presley‘s songs, are unfamiliar for the reader, and moreover, since the meanings of the names are important, it could be considered an option to translate the titles. On the other hand, in the context of the book, it seems likely that the readers would understand the gist of what kind of songs they are anyway: the context suggests that they are politically loaded and that Mick uses them to make Lisa aware of various Indian issues, or for ―brainwashing‖ her (69). Moreover, each name includes at least one expression that is likely to be understandable even for a reader not familiar with English (―FBI‖, ―Fuck‖, ―Custer‖). Another reason, why Lisa‘s father Albert might be upset with his brother Mick for playing these songs to Lisa is the presence of foul language in the music; this, however, is also clarified soon after the songs are mentioned:

Since I was going to get into trouble anyway, I started singing ―Fuck the Oppressors.‖ The

class cheered, more because of the swearing than anything else… (Monkey Beach 69).

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Protoţe bylo jasné, ţe jsem tak jako tak v průšvihu, začala jsem zpívat „Fuck the

Oppressors.― Třída jásala, především kvůli sprostým slovům neţ kvůli čemukoli jinému…

For these reasons, and mainly also in order to maintain consistency, English names of songs were left in English throughout the whole novel.

The presence of two languages in the original naturally makes the situation in the translation into another language somewhat peculiar. Generally, it can be concluded that in the first place, the translation attempted to secure the same place in the novel for

Haisla as it had in the original, as well as to negotiate those situations where open references to language are made in such a manner that these references would blend in with the author‘s way of narrating. Significantly, the adjustments concerning these are only done within the scope of very few words (as opposed to other culture-related topics that are meant to be addressed in a paratext accompanying the novel which would focus more on larger frames than on specific words). The next section will focus on similar examples of applying the general translation strategy, but concerning areas other than languages used within the community.

5.3 Other Culture-related Phenomena

The shifts that Katan describes as inherent in the process of translation can be detected in other culture-related areas as well. For example, in the following paragraph, Lisa tells the story of her grandfather, referring to specific Canadian institutions:

When he came home, he couldn‘t get a job or get the money he thought he should get from

Veterans Affairs because they said Indian Affairs was taking care of him. Indian Affairs said

if he wanted the same benefits as a white vet, he should move off reserve and give up his

status. (Monkey Beach 81)

Kdyţ se vrátil, nemohl sehnat práci ani nedostal peníze, které myslel, ţe dostane od

Ministerstva pro záleţitosti veteránů, protoţe tam mu řekli, ţe se o něj má postarat Úřad pro

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indiánské záleţitosti. Z indiánských záleţitostí mu oznámili, ţe pokud chce stejné výhody

jako bílí veteráni, musí se odstěhovat z rezervace a vzdát se statutu indiána.

Obviously, all the references she makes are clear enough for a Canadian reader, while in the translation, a certain degree of explicitation is apparent, compared to the original. In this case, additions were made in order to avoid misunderstanding of what is referred to: it is likely that a Czech reader who is not familiar with the Indian affairs policies would not immediately understand that ―his status‖ here refers to his ―status of an Indian‖, or that ―Indian Affairs‖ refers to the ―Bureau of Indian Affair‖ (however, the explicitation is only made in case of the first mention of the expression, and not in the second one, since then it should already be clear). Hence the target audience appears to need additional information in order to access the same frame.

Similar intratextual addition was made in the following example:

Mick took me q°alh‟m picking in the spring. […] We scanned the ground for the serrated,

broad leaves of thimbleberry and salmonberry shoots, q°alh‟m. (Monkey Beach 73)

Na jaře mě Mick vzal sbírat q°alh‟m. […] Rozhlíţeli jsme se po zemi, jestli někde uvidíme

q°alh‟m, široké pilovité listy výhonků ostruţiníku ojíněného, na kterém rostou černé maliny,

nebo ostruţiníku skvělého, jehoţ plodům se říká lososky, protoţe se obyčejně jí s lososím

masem.

Since in Czech, thimbleberry and salmonberry shoots are both just different kinds of

―ostruţiny‖/‖blackberries‖ (thimbleberry bush is ―ostruţiník ojíněný‖ and salmonberry bush is ―ostruţiník skvělý‖) and since the narrator goes on to describe different procedures of processing thimbleberries and salmonberries, it would be quite clumsy to always refer to the fruits as fruits of different subspecies of blackberry. Besides making the discussion about these berries rather awkward, literal translation would also lead to a high degree of distortion as well, as using such long botanical names must necessarily attract much of the reader‘s attention. Moreover, it would be hard to imagine that people can refer to commonly used fruits by such clumsy botanical terms. Therefore, the terms

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―černé maliny‖/‖black raspberries‖ and ―lososky‖/(literally)‖salmonberries‖ seemed much more suitable options: black raspberries is another name that can really be used for these berries and can be easily transferred into ―černé maliny‖, while the term

―lososky‖ is a new coinage which reflects (and in the translation also explains) the

English original. Consequently, a significant degree of freedom in translation was applied here in order to implement this compromise into the text.

Another example of a (in this case minor) intratextual explanation can be found in the translation of the following conversation:

―Here, you break off this much and you burn it on your stove–‖

―Like incense?‖

―What‘s incense?‖

―Like cedar and sweegrass bundles.‖

―Oh. Yes, yes like that. (Monkey Beach 151)

„Na, odlomíš asi tolik a spálíš to na plotně–―

„Jak vonnou tyčinku?―

„Vonná tyčinka je co?―

„Jak cedrový jehličí nebo svazky zubří trávy.―

„Á. Jo, přesně tak.

Interestingly, (as pointed out in section 3.8) the same expression appears in ―Terminal

Avenue‖ as well:

To allay suspicion, he smuggles cigarettes and sweetgrass. (Avenue 472)

Aby zmírnil podezření, pašuje z centra města do Surreycentral cigarety a posvátnou trávu

dvojosinec. (Ulice 305)

In ―Terminal Avenue―, ―sweetgrass‖ was translated as ―dvojosinec‖ and an explanation

―posvátná tráva‖/‖sacred grass‖ was added. Obviously, such a wordy phrase cannot be used in the example from Monkey Beach, as it is not likely to occur in direct speech, especially as both participants of the conversation clearly understand the reference

65 without any need for explanation. The term ―zubří tráva‖/‖bison grass‖ was used here as sounds more natural in speech and as it clarifies what kind of material is discussed (just like the addition of ―tráva‖/‖grass‖ in ―Slepá ulice‖), while ―zubr‖/‖bison‖ is also likely to raise the connotation of North America at least, if not of Native American culture or sacredness – as the original expression does for Canadian readers who are probably aware of the sacred value which sweetgrass has for Native Americans. Hence, the choice of ―zubří tráva‖ constitutes a compromise between compactness and clearness of reference.

The next example shows how generalization and addition of information which was implicit in the original are applied in connection with a food item, which is a commonly known product in the source culture, but again probably quite unknown to a

Czech reader:

She handed me a Twinkie and told me to throw it in the fire. ―Hello,‖ I said. I looked at

the Twinkie thoughtfully. ―Will he share?‖ (Monkey Beach 79)

Podala mi jednu Twinkie a řekla, ţe ji mám hodit do ohně. „Ahoj,― začala jsem.

Hloubavě jsem se zadívala na plněný piškot. „Rozdělí se se mnou?―

Here the explanation/addition of information is used in the place of the specific reference to the brand name to avoid unnecessary lengthening which would be caused by simply adding the explanation without deleting the brand name. The motivation here is the same as in the previous examples: to facilitate access to the frame which is referred to in the original to the reader of the translation. The brand name is only replaced once (it is used on several other occasions without adjustment) in order to avoid generalizing more than necessary, as references to specific brands, names of shops or companies are another feature of Robinson‘s writing.

Another problematic area which should be addressed here concerns references to events from the Native Canadian history which Canadian readers are probably

66 familiar with but which are likely to be more or less unknown to Czech readers, similarly as in the case of Canadian institutions discussed earlier in this chapter. This becomes especially problematic, when specifically Native perspective on the addressed issues is presented to the reader, as insufficient knowledge of the subject hinders understanding of this perspective as well. The following paragraph, describing (through the eyes of at the time quite young Lisa) Mick‘s appearance as he arrives to a funeral feast of one of his cousins, provides plentiful examples of such references; therefore, it is used here to demonstrate these issues, even though it is not part of the translated sample listed in chapter 6.

For work, Uncle Mick wore his plaid shirt and rubber boots. On hot days, he wore his

message T-shirts: Free Leonard Peltier! or Columbus: 500 Years of Genocide and Counting.

Usually, he wore a Levi jacket with Trail of Broken Treaties embroidered in bright red thread

on the back. For this feast, he‘d changed into his buckskin jacket with fringe, his A.I.M.

Higher—Join the American Indian Movement! T-shirt and his least ratty pair of jeans. […]

When I sat in his lap, he let me play with the claw that dangled from his bone choker. He

wore it all the time, along with an earring of a silver feather.

Na práci si strýc Mick obyčejně oblékal kostkovanou košili a gumáky. Kdyţ bylo vedro,

nosíval trička s všelijakými politicky uvědomělými nápisy jako Osvoboďte Leonarda

Peltiera! nebo Kolumbus: 500 let genocidy a kaţdý rok o jeden víc. Obvykle nosil dţínovou

bundu, která měla na zádech červeně vyšitý nápis Stezka porušených smluv. Na tuhle hostinu

si místo ní ale oblekl sako z jelenice s třásněmi, svoje nejméně ošuntělé dţíny a tričko

s nápisem Přidej se k A.I.M.—Hnutí amerických indiánů. […] Kdyţ jsem mu seděla na klíně,

nechal mě hrát si s drápem, co se mu houpal na náhrdelníku z kostěných korálek. Ten nosíval

v jednom kuse, zrovna jako náušnici se stříbrným ptačím perem.

Obviously, due to a different level of familiarity with the addressed issues among

Robinson‘s original Canadian audience and the Czech audience, some distortion seems inevitable. Canadian readers would probably know the context of the reference to

Leonard Peltier, a member of the A.I.M. who was, in a very controversial law-suit,

67 convinced of murdering two FBI agents in 1977 (which is, notably, not long before the story of the novel takes place), and hence the implied attitude of Mick towards the cause would be clear to the readers as well. However, such reference cannot be expected to be fully understood by Czech readers. Similarly, Trail of Broken Treaties is likely to be known to Canadian readers, while neither the original name, nor the literal translation of it is likely to evoke much connotation among Czech readers. Thus the reference to

Columbus is probably the only one which is clear for the Czech reader as it is for the

Canadian one. However, a clarification is used here, when the expression ―message T- shirts‖ is translated as ―trička s všelijakými politicky uvědomělými nápisy‖/‖T-shirts will all sorts of politically conscious inscriptions‖ which in the first place clarifies that the reference to Leonard Peltier is a reference to a political issue, and more or less matches Lisa‘s way of talking.

The word play concerning A.I.M – the American Indian Movement and the word ―aim‖ in the phrase ―aim higher‖ is also lost due to the transfer into another language in which the acronym does not have any other meaning. Moreover, the discrepancy between the acronym A.I.M. and the Czech translation ―Hnutí amerických indiánů‖ is apparent here and could be perceived as somewhat disturbing. However, the acronym A.I.M. might be known to some informed Czech readers (with interest in

Indian issues or recent history or American policies, etc.) and carry the connotations that Robinson had probably expected to trigger, while uninformed Czech readers (due to the cultural distance, probably the majority) are at least provided a hint of explanation in the form of translation of the movement‘s name. The option of creating an acronym from this Czech translation (which would have been H.A.I.) was discarded as clumsy and quite counter-productive in relation to the previously mentioned assumption that some Czech readers might be after all familiar with the term A.I.M. The chosen

68 compromise (that is, using the acronym A.I.M. and translating the name of the movement as Hnutí amerických indiánů) makes it possible that the movement can be referred to by the acronym, especially when it appears in the direct speech, while the translation of the full name clarifies for the reader what kind of movement is being discussed, even if without conveying the connotation which the name has for those familiar with it.

For illustration, other examples of situation when A.I.M. is mentioned are listed. First of them is taken from the conversation between Barry and Mick, the second from the scene when Lisa sees Barry again at Mick‘s funeral and then during Lisa‘s conversation with Barry:

―Ah, tell the truth. You just joined A.I.M. to get in my sister‘s pants.‖ (Monkey Beach 72)

„No tak, přiznej barvu. Přidal ses k A.I.M. akorát proto, aby ses dostal mý ségře pod sukni.―

When I glanced over, I saw one of Mick‘s friends from his A. I. M.‘ster days—a group of

about seven men and women had traveled up to Kitamaat. (Monkey Beach 141)

Kdyţ jsem se rozhlédla, všimla jsem si jednoho z Mickových přátel z dob, kdy byl v A.I.M. –

do Kitamaatu jich na pohřeb přijelo asi sedm, muţů i ţen.

„Did Mick tell you about Washington and the Trail of Broke Treaties?―

„When A.I.M. occupied the Bureau of Indian Affairs building?―

„Yeah.― He started to tell me about it, then said he‘d explain it to me when I was older.

(Monkey Beach 146)

„Vyprávěl ti Mick o Washingtonu a Stezce porušených smluv?―

„Jak tehdy A.I.M. zabrali budovu Úřadu pro indiánský záleţitosti?―

„Jo.― Začal vyprávět, ale pak jen řekl, ţe mi o tom poví, aţ budu starší.

As mentioned above, since the name appears almost always in a direct speech in which the full name of the movement would sound unnatural, the acronym A.I.M. was preferred in the translation in these cases, which also allows the reader to get used to the

69 acronym and to what it refers to. Moreover, the last example also shows how despite the general habit of educating about the Haisla culture which was addressed earlier in this chapter, these controversial topics are avoided, thus the reader, just like the young Lisa, are deprived of knowledge of these issues (see section 4.3). Hence we are not discussing a situation in which the Canadian reader is presented with clear references, while the

Czech reader only with fragments, but rather a situation in which just the degree of how clear these references are is different for the two respective audiences.

Besides, despite this barrier (caused by presumable lack of cultural knowledge), it should still be quite easy for a Czech reader to notice that most of these references are also used as a way of characterizing Mick – just like his playing of politically charged songs for his young niece characterizes him. He is depicted as someone with strong feelings for the Native struggle, militant in his youth and unwilling to conform even at older age, traumatized in his childhood and angry with the majority society, promoting resistance and willing to display his attitudes and believes at any time. Besides these messages on his clothes, other parts of his outfit also show this, hence it is important that the translation would reflect this and make sure that the way his clothing is described in Czech does not allow misinterpretation of this aspect of his personality.

5.4 Conclusion

Considering general issues that concern translation of culture (discussed in chapters 2 and 3) and the detailed analysis of culture in Monkey Beach (discussed in chapter 4) provided the basis for choosing the translation strategy for this novel, which was roughly outlined in this chapter. This chapter also discussed specific translation

70 solutions that relate to the topic of culture, with focus on the translator‘s interventions and shifts that are traceable in the translation compared to the original.

Obviously, a general outline of a strategy accompanied by a list of examples of specific applications cannot provide an all-inclusive picture of how culture as such was translated in a specific piece of writing, as there are simply too many components of culture and too many components of the decision-making process to be listed here.

Moreover, according to Tymoczko‘s approach, the translator is the one constructing the meaning(s) of the translation as a part of the process of constructing the text; therefore, while basic goals and motivations can be stated, the complexity of this process cannot be successfully expressed within several pages. It is likely that more precise picture of the application of the chosen strategy, that is, of how the Aboriginal culture is mirrored in the Czech translation, can be made based on reading of a passage from the actual translation. As a sample, passages from the novel were chosen in which the role of culture is rather prominent and also references to culture-related phenomena are plentiful. The sample translation is provided in the following chapter of the thesis.

6 Translation Sample of Monkey Beach

Je moţné pomstít se nepříteli,

ale nemoţné mstít se bouřím.

(haiselské přísloví)

Část první

Láska jak oceán

Na naší slivoni sedí šest vran. V polospánku slyším, jak ke mně mluví v haiselštině.

La‟es, volají, La‟es, la‟es.

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Zvednu se z postele a jdu k otevřenému oknu, ale ony se s krákáním vznesou vzhůru. Zpoza hor za rezervací prosvítají šikmé paprsky ranního slunce. Závěsy se v mírném větru vanoucím od zálivu bezvládně pohupují. Z mělké vody se náhle vynoří tulení hlava a hladinu zčeří kruhy.

La‟es – Jdi na dno oceánu. Ta slova znamenají ještě něco jiného, nemůţu si ale vzpomenout co. Včera večer jsem vypila aţ moc kávy, kdyţ zavolali z Pobřeţní stráţe, aby nám řekli o Jimmym. Kaţdý mi cpal do dlaní jeden hrnek za druhým. Usnout jsem musela někdy kolem čtvrté. Na hodinách na nočním stolku je špatně nakreslený Elvis zachycený uprostřed otočky. Jimmy je našel na blešáku a dal mi je loni k narozeninám – spolu s přáním, na kterém stálo: „Všecko nej, ségra! Jaký to je být stará skoro dvě dekády? Drţ se, babčo!― Podle hodin s Elvisem je půl osmé, ukazují ale obyčejně buď o hodinu víc, nebo o hodinu míň. Vţdycky si děláme srandu, ţe jdou podle indiánského

času.

Jdu k prádelníku a vytáhnu z něj svoji první dnešní cigaretu, pak se vrátím k oknu a kouřím. Na travnatém břehu ustane uprostřed pohybu rezavá kočka, zpozorní. Mávne ocasem tam a zpátky, pak odskáče přes pláţ do houští u domu našich sousedů. Vrány jsou nepatrné černé tečky na vybledlé dţínovině oblohy. Odněkud z dálky slyším motorový člun. Uţ týden se mi zdává o oceánu – jak tlumeně šplouchá, kdyţ naráţí na trup člunu, jak syčí, kdyţ hrne štěrkovitý písek nahoru po pláţi, jak při přílivu doráţí na pobřeţí a zvedá se z kamení v éterické vodní tříšti, neţ se vlny s rachotem dají zase na

ústup.

Takový nádherný den. Pozdní léto. Teplo. Jen se podívej na ty krásné nadýchané mraky. O počasí v oblasti, kde jejich rybářská loď zmizela, přicházejí samé příznivé zprávy. Jimmy je výborný plavec. Kaţdý to pořád opakuje jako mantru, která ho ochrání před nebezpečím. Takový optimismus zdaleka nepanuje v případě kapitána lodi

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Joshe, robustního chlapíka, který se rád pobaví a díky svojí štědrosti je velice oblíbený v barech a na oslavách. Kromě toho je taky aţ po uši v dluzích a má za sebou špatnou rybářskou sezónu. Během léta od něj odešli dva členové posádky a zatrpkle si stěţovali příbuzným, ţe jim nezaplatil, kolik měl. Včera večer se tu stavili, aby nám vyjádřili podporu. Jeden můj bratránek mi prozradil, ţe prý všem vykládají, jak Josh beztak nechal svoji Královnu Severu jít ke dnu schválně, aby dostal peníze od pojišťovny, a ţe

Jimmyho námořnická nezkušenost z něj akorát dělá dokonalého obětního beránka.

Šeptali něco dalším lidem, co k nám včera přišli, ale teta Edith na ně zírala tak dlouho, neţ jim došlo, ţe mají zmizet.

Típnu cigaretu a cestou do kuchyně beru schody po dvou. Táta sedí u stolu a kouří. Popelník je přeplněný. Letmo na mě pohlédne, oči zarudlé a podlité krví.

„Slyšeli jste ty vrány?― zeptám se. Kdyţ neodpoví, začnu bez rozmyslu vykládat.

„Mluvily ke mně. Říkali la‟es. Třeba je to-―

„Rozhodně znamení, Liso,― máma se objeví za mnou a vezme mě za ramena, „ţe potřebuješ Prozac.― Nasměruje mě k ţidli a posadí mě na ni. Tátovo staré rádio na velmi krátké vlny je naladěné na kanál nouzového vysílání. Obyčejně ho míváme naladěné na

CFTK. Táto ho rád pouští nahlas a domem obyčejně burácí ranní soft rock. Tiše sedíme a já pozoruju jeho cigaretu, jak v popelníku dohořívá. Máma si uhladí vlasy. Pořád si na ně sahá. Oba mají skelný vyčerpaný výraz lidí, kteří celou noc nespali. Mám nutkání pustit nějakou hudbu. Kdyby jejich seiner našli, někdo by nám to zavolal.

„Peng, peng, peng,― zapraská z rádia ţenský hlas. „Všem stanicím, mluví

Pobřeţní stráţ Prince Ruperta.― Všechno opakuje třikrát, proč, to netuším. „Máme tu zpoţděné plavidlo.― Pak popisuje gillnetter, který měl v Rupertu být uţ před čtyřmi dny.

Máma a táta ustrnou v napjatém očekávání, ačkoli s Jimmym tohle nemá nic společného.

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V kaţdý daný okamţik zuří na moři dva tisíce bouří.

* * *

Vezmi si mapu Britské Kolumbie. Zapíchni prst doprostřed pobřeţí. Pod Aljaškou si najdi ostrovy Královny Charlotty. Prstem přejeď přes Hecatinu úţinu ke břehu a to uţ musíš vidět obrovský ostrov tisknoucí se k pobřeţí. To je Ostrov královské princezny.

Proslavili ho medvědi bílí, coţ je vlastně poddruh medvěda černého, který ale obyčejně mívá bílou barvu. Ostrov královské princezny je západní hranicí tradičního teritoria kmene Haisla. Ka-tee-doux Gitk„a‟ata, Tsimshianové z Hartleyovy zátoky, ţijí při ústí

Douglasova zálivu a v přilehlých oblastech na sever od ostrova. Kdyţ probíhaly debaty o tom, komu patří které území, část této oblasti si nárokovaly oba národy, Haisla i

Tsimshian – oblasti se říká překryv a pořád je ţhavým tématem diskusí. Jakmile ale mineš ústí Douglasova zálivu, jsi uţ bezpečně na haiselském území.

Začátkem devatenáctého století vyuţívali obchodníci společnosti Hudsonova zálivu průvodce z kmene Tsimshian, a to byl začátek zmatku v místních jménech.

„Kitamaat― je tsimshianské slovo, které znamená „lidé padajícího sněhu― a které pouţívali k pojmenování hlavní vesnice kmene Haisla. Takţe kdyţ se obchodníci společnosti Hudsonova zálivu zeptali svých průvodců: „Hej, jak se jmenuje tamta vesnice?―, tsimshianští průvodci odpověděli, „No to je Kitamaat.― Jméno se zauţívalo v úředních záznamech a vesnici se od těch dob říká Kitamaat, ačkoli by se jí vlastně mělo říkat Haisla. V historických spisech existují asi čtyři nebo pět různých způsobů, jak slovo Kitamaat psát, kmen Haisla se ale rozhodl pro Kitamaat. Aby těch zmatků nebylo málo, kdyţ se v padesátých letech dvacátého století objevila v oblasti hliníkárna

Alcan Aluminum, vybudovala pro své zaměstnance „město budoucnosti― a pojmenovala ho stejně, akorát se jinak píše – Kitimat.

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Jestli máš prst na Terrace nebo Princi Rupertu, jsi moc daleko na severu. Pokud ukazuješ na Bella Coola nebo Ocean Falls, jsi moc daleko na jihu. Pokud ukazuješ na to správné místo, tvůj prst je zapíchnutý do západního pobřeţí Ostrova královské princezny. Kitamaat najdeš tak, ţe prstem jedeš severovýchodně podél Douglasova zálivu, sto čtyřicet kilometrů dlouhého fjordu, aţ na samý konec. Cestou mineš Gilův ostrov, Ostrov královské princezny, Gribbellův ostrov, Hawkesburyho ostrov,

Maitlandův ostrov a konečně ostrov Costi. U konce Douglasova zálivu narazíš na vesničku Kitamaat, v níţ se sedm set haiselských obyvatel tísní mezi horami a oceánem.

Na samém konci vesnice stojí náš dům. Z kuchyně je vidět mořskou hladinu. Někde na moři mezi Kitamaatem a Namu – šest hodin plavby člunem na jih – se ztratil můj bratr.

Telefon zvedla máma, kdyţ volali z Pobřeţní stráţe. Vzala jsem jí sluchátko z ruky, kdyţ začala plakat. Nějaký člověk mi oznámil, ţe s lodí nemají ţádné rádiové spojení od soboty, uţ dva dny. Prý by mi rád poloţil pár otázek. Poskytla jsem mu všechny informace, které jsem poskytnout mohla – ţe Jimmy volal v pátek z Bella

Bella. Řekl nám, ţe bylo vydáno oznámení s šestatřicetihodinovým předstihem o otevření Oblasti 8 pro lov lososa nerky. Josh měl v plánu přemístit seiner blíţ ke svému oblíbenému místu v Oblasti 8. Ne, nevím, kde to místo je. Jimmy taky řekl, ţe protoţe je to nudná práce se spoustou vysedávání a čekání, posádka se rozhodla rozdělit. Tři zkušenější rybáři z Joshovy posádky zůstali v Bella Bella a zpátky ke Královně pak měli přijet motorovým člunem v neděli ráno. Jimmy byl sluţebně nejmladší, takţe musel jet s Joshem.

Hlas v telefonu mi řekl, ţe Josh zavolal svojí posádce do Bella Bella, ţe prý zlobí motor, a tak ţe zastavuje v Namu. Kdyţ posádka dorazila do rybářské Oblasti 8, nemohli Královnu severu najít. Hledali celé odpoledne. Nikdo z celé rybářské flotily neohlásil, ţe by Královnu viděl. Nikdo neví, jestli šla ke dnu, nebo jestli jen vypověděla

75 sluţbu a teď někde trčí. Oblast 8 je obrovská, pokračoval. Ţádné nouzové volání nezaznamenali. Jestli je to dobrá, nebo špatná zpráva, to uţ neřekl. Vím ještě o něčem, co by mohlo být uţitečné? Ne, odpověděla jsem. Vlastně jsem ani nelhala. Co jsem věděla, by teď stejně nijak zvlášť k uţitku nebylo.

* * *

Z letiště Terrace-Kitimat ţádné přímé lety do Namu nelétají, takţe máma s tátou poletí ráno do Vancouveru. Odtud budou pokračovat letadlem do Bella Bella a pak člunem do

Namu, aby byli k pátrání blíţ. Neměla jsem jim o těch vranách říkat. Aspoň ţe jsem jim neřekla o tom snu: tu noc, kdy Královna severu zmizela, jsem viděla Jimmyho na Opičí pláţi. Stál na jejím konci, kde končí písek a začínají stromy. Mlha a mraky rozmazaly hranice mezi zemí, mořem a nebem. Jak se mlha převalovala, ztrácel se mi chvílemi z očí. Měl na sobě stejné oblečení jako ten den, co odjíţděl, červenou kostkovanou košili, černé dţíny a kšiltovku s logem John Deere, kterou mu dal táta. Musela jsem být na člunu, protoţe pro mě byl jen drobná postavička v dálce. Do tváře jsem mu neviděla.

Kdyţ jsme byli malí, táta nám vyprávěl historky o b‗gwusech, divokých lesních muţích. Byly to příběhy, co mu vyprávěl Ba-ba-oo. Jimmyho oblíbený byl ten o dvou lovcích koţešin, kteří se vypravili do hor blízko Opičí pláţe. V jednu chvíli se museli rozdělit, protoţe se stezka rozvětvovala. Na rozcestí poloţili klacík ve tvaru písmene Y.

Lovec, který svoje pasti zkontroluje jako první, namíří klacík směrem k jejich táboru.

Ten, co byl s pastmi hotový dřív, uslyšel, jak se v křoví před ním hýbe něco velikého. Mezi listím zahlédl světle hnědou srst a pomyslel si, ţe to bude grizzly. Se zbraní namířenou do pohybujícího se křoví postupoval pozpátku, co nejtišeji a co nejrychleji mohl, aby z té stezky byl co nejdřív pryč, a říkal si, ţe kdyţ zůstane po větru, medvěd si ho nevšimne.

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Tak se stalo, ţe nedával pozor na to, co je za ním, kdyţ dorazil na mýtinu. Uslyšel zabručení. Okamţitě se otočil. Před sebou měl přes dvacet strašně chlupatých chlapů.

Vypadali právě tak překvapeně jako on. Byli vysocí a hrudníky, paţe a nohy měli porostlé hustou hnědou srstí. Měli obrovské hlavy takového podivného tvaru a čela se jim hned od obočí prudce svaţovala dozadu. Jeden z nich zavrčel a rozběhl se směrem k lovci. Ten zpanikařil a vystartoval zpátky do lesa, oni se ale rozběhli za ním.

Byli rychlí. Zahnali ho do úzkých, kdyţ ho obklíčili u paty vysoké skály. Začal po ní šplhat. Shromáţdili se v půlkruhu pod ním a řvali. Kdyţ začali šplhat nahoru za ním, vzal pušku, a protoţe věděl, ţe bude pravděpodobně mít jen jednu ránu, vybral si vůdce.

Střelil ho do hlavy a stvoření s těţkým ţuchnutím přistálo pod skálou. Zatímco ostatní saskvočové se dali do naříkavého kvílení, lovec uháněl pryč.

Kdyţ doběhl k pláţi a ujistil se, ţe ho nikdo nepronásleduje, vydal se zpátky do tábora. Druhý lovec tam nebyl. Slunce uţ zapadalo a lovec věděl, ţe bude muset počkat do rána, neţ se bude moct vypravit ho hledat. Postavil tábor, všechny věci dal do člunu, který měli zakotvený v zátoce, a celou noc probděl. Za úsvitu zamířil zpátky do kopců.

Kdyţ dorazil k rozcestí, uviděl svého kamaráda zbitého, zkrvaveného a s největší pravděpodobností mrtvého. Neţ se k němu stihl dostat, začalo se ze všech stran ozývat vytí, a tak se otočil a utíkal pryč.

„Vykládáš to špatně,― prohlásila jednou Ma-ma-oo, kdyţ u nás byla na

štědrovečerní večeři. Vţdycky, kdyţ se táta pustil do své verze, přerušovala jeho krvavé líčení se svými „Takhle to vůbec nebylo.―

„Ale máti,― zaprotestoval nakonec táta. „Je to jenom historka.―

Ma-ma-oo stiskla rty tak pevně, aţ v nich nebylo kapky krve. Pár minut na to pak odešla. Máma tátu políbila na nos a řekla, ţe rodina je rodina.

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Verze, kterou vyprávěla Ma-ma-oo byla míň strašlivá, nikdo v ní neskončil zastřelený a první lovec prostě jen zahlédl b‘gwuse, jak přechází přes ledovec, vyděsil se a utekl zpátky do tábora. Jimmy a já jsme měli radši tátovu verzi, především kvůli těm zvukovým efektům.

Ať uţ to bylo jakkoli, kdyţ se lovec vrátil do vesnice, nechal si u jednoho umělce vyřezat masku saskvoče. Na konci příběhu si táta vţdycky nasadil kopii masky, kterou vyřezal jeho otec, a honil nás s ní po obýváku. Jimmy v hrané hrůze vřískal a předstíral,

ţe ho střílí. Kdyţ nás táta chytil, povalil nás na zem a zlechtal. Ma-ma-oo se nad tím mračívala. Říkala, ţe z toho budeme akorát tak mít noční můry. A jak jinak, pozdě večer, kdyţ si Jimmy myslel, ţe uţ spím, vplíţil se ke mně do postele a stulil se vedle mě. Neţ jsem se ráno probudila, vykradl se po špičkách zase pryč.

Jimmy ten příběh bral váţně, jako by byl z Bible. Jednoho dne si koupil malý levný foťák a já jsem se ho zeptala, proč utrácí za takové pitomosti.

„Udělám z nás boháče,― odpověděl.

Odfrkla jsem. „Jak jako? Chceš někoho vydírat?― Dívávala jsem se s Ma-ma-oo na seriály a věděla všecko o nevěrných manţelích a manţelkách, co byli vyfoceni v kompromitujících situacích.

Jimmy zavrtěl hlavou a nic mi nechtěl prozradit. „Chci, aby to bylo překvapení.―

Celý týden prosil tátu, ať ho vezme na Opičí pláţ.

„Co tě to napadlo?― divil se táta, kdyţ uţ mu to začínalo lézt na nervy.

„Jsou tam b‘gwusové,― vysvětlil Jimmy.

Táta zvedl jedno obočí.

Jimmy se začal celý kroutit. „Prosím, tati. Prosííím. Je to důleţitý.―

„Jimmy,― začal táta. „Saskvočové jsou výmysly, zrovna jak skřítci. Ve skutečnosti neexistují.―

78

„Ale Ma-ma-oo tvrdí, ţe jsou skuteční,― trval na svém Jimmy.

„Babička si myslí i o lidech v televizi, ţe jsou skuteční,― nedal se táta. Podíval se na mě a obrátil oči v sloup. Po chvilce se naklonil k Jimmymu a zašeptal, „Nechceš přece, aby tě seţrali, ţe ne? Malé kluky mají rádi.―

Jimmy celý zbledl. „Já vím.― Podíval se na mě. Teď jsem obrátila oči v sloup já.

Kdyţ uţ to vypadalo, ţe se táta opravdu nenechá ukecat, Jimmy vytáhl poslední

číslo World Weekly Globe. Ukázal nám stranu dvě, kde stálo, ţe Globe vyplatí aţ třicet tisíc dolarů tomu, kdo vyfotí saskvoče.

„Budeme bohatí!― křičel Jimmy a samým rozrušením začal poskakovat. „Budem moct jet do Disneylandu! Budem si moct koupit nový auto! Vsadím se, ţe bysme si mohli koupit i nový dům!―

Táta na něj zíral. Poplácal ho po rameni. „Kdyţ si splníš všecky svoje povinnosti na tenhle týden, v pátek vyrazíme.―

Jimmy zajásal a utíkal to povědět mámě. Uchechtla jsem se. Byl jenom o rok a půl mladší neţ já a přitom byl pořád takové mimino.

„No,― pronesl táta s jízlivým úsměvem, „beztak začíná sezóna srdcovek.―

[…]

Tu noc jsme nocovali na pláţi. Opékali jsme nad ohněm Marshmallows a párky.

Teta Edith si svoje párky uvařila, ţe prý uţ její ţaludek není, co býval, a strýc Geordie usnul bez večeře, jeho chrápání bylo tak hlasité, ţe znělo jak gillnetter.

Ráno byl Jimmy pryč. Táta s mámou se vydali po pláţi na jednu stranu a teta

Edith se strýcem Geordiem na druhou. Volali z plných plic Jimmyho jméno. Já jsem měla zůstat v táboře, ale zaslechla jsem, jak v lese něco zapraskalo.

„Jimmy?― zavolala jsem.

Uslyšela jsem, jak se někdo dává do běhu.

79

„Našla jsem ho!― volala jsem. „Našla jsem ho!―

Nečekala jsem na odpověď a rozběhlla se za ním. Občas jsem na chvilku zahlédla hnědé tričko, slyšela jsem Jimmyho před sebou, ale nemohla jsem ho dohnat. Uháněla jsem za ním, co mi síly stačily, aţ mě bolelo v boku, jako by mě někdo praštil, a aţ jsem uţ sotva popadala dech. Slyšela jsem, ţe je pořád přede mnou. Zastavila jsem, předklonila jsem se a utěšovala se představou výprasku, jaký Jimmy dostane, aţ se vrátíme.

Z ničeho nic se mi najeţil kaţdičký chloupek na těle. Les byl hustý a pod stromy bylo úplné ticho. Někde nahoře zakrákal krkavec. Neslyšela jsem, ţe by někdo

Jimmyho volal. Slyšela jsem jen vlastní dech. Cítila jsem, ţe se na mě někdo dívá.

„Jimmy?―

Pot na mém těle štípal ve škrábancích a oděrkách, o kterých jsem ani nevěděla, ţe je mám, osychal a studil mě na kůţi. Velice pomalu jsem se otočila. Za mnou nikdo nebyl. Otočila jsem se zpátky a uviděla ho. Jen na chvilinku jsem zahlédla vysokého muţe zarostlého hnědou srstí. Na tváři měl široký přátelský úsměv, ale měl aţ moc zubů a ty byly všechny špičaté. Ustoupil do přítmí pod stromy, pak zašel za cedr a zmizel.

Nemohla jsem se hnout. Pak jsem uslyšela sama sebe křičet, stála jsem a nehýbala se. Přihnal se Jimmy s foťákem v ruce. Vyřítil se z křoví a začal divoce fotit jako o závod, nejdřív mě, jak křičím, a pak les kolem nás. Jimmy na sobě měl šedou mikinu.

Zírala jsem na něj a on zíral do lesa.

„Kde jsou?― ptal se Jimmy rozrušeně.

Dostavily se pochybnosti: všechno se to seběhlo tak rychle a na tak kratičkou chvíli, ţe jsem si říkala, jestli to celé nebyl jen výplod mé fantazie.

„Vidělas je?― ptal se. „Kam šli?―

„Kdo?―

80

„Saskvočové!― vysvětlil.

Zamyslela jsem se, pak jsem ukázala směrem k našemu tábořišti a Jimmy se rozběhl zpátky cestou, kterou jsem přišla. Chvilku jsem tam zůstala, pak jsem se otočila a šla.

Cestou zpátky vypadal Jimmy unavený a vyděšený. Drţel se u mě. Nechtěla jsem ho strašit, tak jsem mu o muţi, co jsem viděla zmizet za stromem, radši neřekla.

„To jsi mě sledovala uţ od začátku?― zeptal se.

Kývla jsem.

Povzdechl si. „Myslel jsem, ţe spíš.―

Jimmy schytal výprask, já dostala kázání a tu noc jsme museli místo na pláţi spát v lodi. Jimmy potichoučku brečel a brečel a brečel. Věděla jsem, ţe si myslí, ţe spím, tak jsem předstírala, ţe se ve spánku obracím, a přehodila přes něj paţi. Nepohnul se.

Jeho dech se zklidnil, párkrát popotáhl, pak se ke mně přitulil a usnul. Gillnetter se pohupoval a já jsem se dívala na hvězdy. Zděsila jsem se při představě, ţe někomu vykládám, jak jsem viděla b‘gwuse. Vysmáli by se mi, stejně jako se smáli, kdyţ Ma- ma-oo trvala na tom, ţe jsou skuteční. Ale jestli Globe opravdu vyplácel hromadu peněz za jeho fotku, pravděpodobně jsem promarnila naši šanci zbohatnout.

Povzdechnu si. Moţná jsou sny o Jimmym na Opičí pláţi prostě jen lítostí nad promeškanými příleţitostmi. Moţná to znamená, ţe se cítím provinile, protoţe něco tajím. Taky by to mohlo být volání umírajícího, ty ale obyčejně člověk zachytí, kdyţ je vzhůru.

Bůh ví, co se ty vrány snaţí říct. La„es – jít aţ na dno oceánu, zaseknout se u dna, jako kdyţ se do mořského dna zasekne háček na platýze, jako potápějící se člun, který klesá ke dnu, aby tam spočinul. Seiner se potopil? Mámě a tátovi hrozí nebezpečí, kdyţ pojedou člunem? Měla bych se vydat za ním? Kdysi jsem si myslela, ţe kdybych mohla

81 komunikovat se světem duchů, dostalo by se mi nějakých odpovědí. Ha ha ha, velmi vtipné. Přála bych si, aby mrtví narovinu říkali, co chtějí říct, místo aby byli takhle pasivně agresivní.

Máma vstane a nalije si do hrnku kafe. Dřív mě vţdycky posílala ven, kdyţ jsem si zapálila, ale teď je jí to jedno. Ze zvyku jdu stejně ven na zadní verandu, i kdyţ táta kouří v kuchyni. Zvedl se vítr, je silný a studený a čeří hladinu zátoky, aţ se na ní tvoří bílá pěna. Znovu a znovu mi sfoukává plamínek zapalovače, i kdyţ ho opatrně schovávám v dlani. Máma mi loni koupila k devatenáctinám zvonkohru, takovou tu drahou, co zní jak malé gongy. Teď vyzvání jak splašená. K Vánocům mi koupila balení kuřáckých ţvýkaček, smradlavých a po všech stránkách odporných. Zkusila jsem je hodit do odpadků, ale propašovala je zpátky na můj stůl.

Vdechnu první šluk a opřu se zády o opěradlo venkovní ţidle. Kromě všeho toho vypitého kafe jsem včera večer taky celé hodiny kouřila. Teď mě bolí v krku a mám ho celý zahleněný. Slunce je nízko a světlo je slabé, vodní hladina se ale stejně třpytí.

Oceán je černý v místech, kam nedopadá ţádné světlo, a temně zelený tam, kam dopadají paprsky. Jakmile si z cigarety poprvé potáhnu, zaplaví mě vlna příjemné závratě. Na okamţik jsem dezorientovaná. Můţu se oprostit od vzpomínek a prostě jen tak být, pozorovat oblaka, oceán a světlo. Vnímám, ţe je mi na zvracení, začíná mě bolet hlava, cítím úzkost v hrudníku.

* * *

Stála jsem vedle příkopu a dívala se na malého tmavě hnědého psíka s bílými skvrnami.

Myslela jsem, ţe spí, tak jsem slezla dolů, abych si ho pohladila. Kdyţ jsem k němu byla tak blízko, ţe jsem se ho mohla dotknout, všimla jsem si, ţe mu kůţi křiţují řezné rány tenké jako od břitvy, na kterých má krvavé strupy. Měl k sobě přivázané takové divné kusy látky. Psík kňučel a v tlapkách mu cukalo.

82

Uslyšela jsem, jak někdo dvakrát pohoršeně mlasknul. Zvedla jsem hlavu, vedle mě dřepěl malý tmavý muţík se zářivě červenými vlasy.

„To je tvůj pejsek?―

Zavrtěl hlavou a pak ukázal prstem směrem k našemu domu.

„Liso!― volala máma z verandy. „Oběd!―

„Pojď se podívat na pejska!― zakřičela jsem na ni.

„Liso! Oběd! Ale uţ!―

Nakonec jsem mámu k příkopu přitáhla, aby se na něj podívala. Mezitím ho našly mouchy. Vzduch vyplnilo jejich spokojené líné bzučení a pronikavý zápach tlejícího masa.

* * *

Táta otevře dveře zadní verandy a já se s trhnutím probudím, aţ náš chatrný venkovní nábytek zaskřípe.

„Začíná foukat. Nepůjdeš dovnitř?― zeptá se.

„Zůstanu ještě chvilku tady,― odpovím.

„Je chladno.―

„Není mi zima.―

Táta vyjde ven a sedne si vedle mě. Vytáhne svoji krabičku cigaret a zapálí si.

Nabídne mi a já si vezmu. Kázání o kouření mi přestal dávat uţ dávno. V tomhle je stejný jako strýc Mick, na hádání ho neuţije.

První cigaretu jsem vykouřila před šesti nebo sedmi lety. Zašívaly jsme se s Tab za tělocvičnou. Opatrně vytáhla pomačkanou Marlborku z krabičky s obědem.

S hihňáním mi prozradila, ţe ji ukradla svojí mámě. Ukázala mi, jak kouřit elegantně, potahovat jako dáma s cigaretou mezi konečky ukazováčku a prostředníčku a kouř vyfukovat vzhůru. Kdyţ moje máma mnohem později zjistila, ţe kouřím, vinila z toho

83 hnusného návyku strýce Micka, dokud jsem nepodotkla, ţe táta kouří taky. Zírala na mě. „Co jako?― odsekla jsem.

Strýc Mick kouříval cigarety značky Sago. Zkusila jsem je a uţ po prvním potáhnutí jsem byla zkouřená. Rád si je balil sám, coţ mámě připadalo ještě nechutnější neţ samotné kouření. Kdyţ cigarety podraţily, táta si koupil sáček tabáku, ţe si je taky bude balit sám, ale máma mu dala padesátidolarovku a oznámila mu, ţe ty zatracený cigarety radši bude kupovat sama, neţ aby se dívala, jak kouří hipísácký ţvára.

Táta vstane a jde zpátky dovnitř. Za chvilku se vrátí se dvěma dekami a jednu mi podá.

Někdy se mi chce mu o svých zvláštních snech říct. Ale kdyţ je jen zmíním, zírá na mě, jako bych si vysvlékla tričko a tancovala před ním nahoře bez. Ty vzpomínky jsou tak staré, aţ jsem si kolikrát říkala, ţe muţík a pes v příkopě se mi taky jenom zdály. Jsem si jistá, ţe to bylo poprvé, kdy jsem toho muţíka viděla. Byl to ten den před přílivovou vlnou. Potom jsem ho viděla, kdyţ mi bylo šest. Vzbudila jsem se s divným pocitem, ţe na mě někdo zírá. Pevně jsem tiskla svého ošuntělého medvídka, pana

Búbú. Kdyţ jsem konečně sebrala odvahu vykouknout zpod přikrývky, viděla jsem v záři měsíce, ţe ţádné příšery, které by mě mohly chňapnout a odvléct do temných míst, aby mi tam prováděly strašlivé věci, v pokoji nejsou. Víčka se mi klíţila a svůj smrtelný stisk pana Búbú jsem uţ taky povolovala, kdyţ vtom najednou z prádelníku spadla moje šperkovnice. S trhnutím jsem se probudila, srdce mi bušilo tak divoce, ţe jsem sotva mohla dýchat. Z otevřené šperkovnice bylo slyšet cinkání plechového hracího strojku, ale já ho slyšela jen jakoby odněkud zdaleka, protoţe jsem s otevřenou pusou zírala na muţíka s červenými vlasy, který seděl se zkříţenýma nohama na prádelníku.

84

Po vrásčitém obličeji se mu rozlil šklebivý úsměv, udělal kotrmelec dozadu a postavil se. Naklonil hlavu, která vzhledem k jeho tělu vypadala příliš veliká, dal si krátký široký prst před pusu a zašeptal „pšššt―. Leţela jsem jako přikovaná a nemohla ze sebe vydat hlásku. Na jeho zelené kostkované košili zacinkaly drobounké zvonečky, kdyţ se mi uklonil. Pak se narovnal, a aţ stál zase vzpřímeně, pozpátku vkročil zpátky do zdi.

Nehnula jsem se zpod přikrývky, dokud máma nezaklepala na dveře a neoznámila mi, ţe na čase vylézt z postele a hýbnout tou svou línou kůţí. Pověděla jsem jí o muţíkovi a ona mě objala a řekla mi, ţe kaţdý mívá zlé sny a ţe se jich nemám bát – jsou to jen sny a nemůţou mi ublíţit.

„Ale on tady opravdu byl,― oponovala jsem.

Pohladila mě po vlasech. „Některý sny nám připadají strašně skutečný. A teď uţ se pojď nasnídat.―

* * *

[…]

Kdyţ o tom teď tak přemýšlím, princip návštěv toho muţíka se zdá aţ nepříjemně do očí bijící, tehdy ale jeho příchody a odchody neměly ţádný význam. Jak jsem vyrůstala, stala se z něj variace na příšeru pod postelí nebo kostlivce ve skříni, noční můra, která se s ránem vytrácela. Kdyţ přišel na návštěvu, rád sedával na prádelníku a zářivě rudé vlasy mu odstávaly v neuspořádaných zcuchaných chomáčích, které občas schovával pod černý cylindr. Kdyţ měl škodolibou náladu, zatančil drkotavý taneček a předstíral, ţe se mi chystá vypíchnout oči. Tu noc předtím, neţ přiletěli jestřábi, svěsil hlavu a posílal mi smutné vzdušné polibky, které se ve tmě třpytily stříbřitě a zlatě a k zemi se sypaly zlehka jako konfety.

[…]

85

Tu zimu mě Mick vzal s sebou do lesa pro vánoční stromek. Jeli jsme po silnici mezi Terrace a Kitimatem, dokud Mick neusoudil, ţe jsme na dobrém místě. Cestou pouštěl kazety Elvise a nahrávky, co mu poslali jeho kamarádi, písničky jako „FBI

Lies―, „Fuck the Oppressors― a moji oblíbenou „I Shot Custer.― I přes moje prohlašování, ţe jsou ale opravdu děsně společensky uvědomělí, byla Abba v Mickově kazeťáku naprosto zakázaná.

„Musí o těchhle věcech vědět,― vysvětloval Mick tátovi, kterého zneklidnila poznámka od jedné mojí učitelky. Nutila nás číst z kníţky, ve které tvrdili, ţe indiáni na severozápadním pobřeţí Britské Kolumbie v rámci náboţenských obětování zabíjeli a jedli lidi. Učitelka dala kaţdému přečíst nahlas jeden odstavec. Kdyţ byla řada na mě, seděla jsem a třásla se, vzteky celá bez sebe.

„Liso?― vybídla mě „Slyšelas mě? Přečti prosím další odstavec.―

„Ale to jsou samý lţi,― odpověděla jsem.

Učitelka na mě zírala, jako bych právě mutovala v odpornou stvůru z vesmíru.

Ostatní ve třídě vycítili napětí a začali se chichotat a špitat si. Učitelka pomalu zrudla, pak prohlásila, ţe nevím, o čem mluvím.

„Ma-ma-oo říkala, ţe to bylo jen jako, to jezení lidí, jak kdyţ se při příjímání pije

Kristova krev.―

Odměřeným, napjatým hlasem mi nakázala si zase sednout.

Protoţe bylo jasné, ţe jsem tak jako tak v průšvihu, začala jsem zpívat „Fuck the

Oppressors.― Třída jásala, především kvůli sprostým slovům neţ kvůli čemukoli jinému, a já jsem byla za stálého zpívání pohotově vlečena do ředitelny.

Mick se sebral a šel si nechat tu poznámku od učitelky zalaminovat a zarámovat.

Zatloukl do zdi hřebík a pověsil si ji přesně uprostřed obýváku. Poloţil mi paţi kolem ramen, několikrát naprázdno polknul a vypadal celý na měkko. „Moje malá bojovnice.―

86

Táta Mickovým vlivem na mě nijak ohromený nebyl. Vrazil svému staršímu bratrovi ze strany pořádnou facku. Mick ho vzal loktem pod krkem a pak ho povalil na podlahu. Jakmile ho jednou měl na zemi, drţel ho, dokud táta neuznal, ţe Mick je ten nejkrásnější, nejstatečnější a nejchytřejší bojovník na světě. Strejdovi Mickovi to

„vymývání mozku― procházelo jedině proto, ţe byl jedním z mála lidí ochotných mě občas pohlídat.

Náš výlet do lesa pro vánoční stromek tátovi nijak nevadil. Jejich otec je kaţdý rok brával na stejnou výpravu. „Vţdycky jsem musel jít, i kdyţ jsem mu říkal, jak to nenávidím,― vyprávěl mi jednou táta, kdyţ jsme sklízeli nádobí. „Stejně je to pitomý nápad. Kdo s tím přišel, ţe díky mrtvýmu stromu v domě bude zima o tolik svátečnější?― A máma souhlasila, remcala o uschlých jehličkách v koberci a tvrdila, ţe je beztak jediná, kdo tu pitomou věc zalívá. Mick pozval Jimmyho, ten zvedl oči od

úkolů s rozpačitým výrazem.

„Ven? V týhle zimě?―

„Bude to sranda,― tvrdil Mick.

„Proč prostě nekoupíme stromek v Overwaitea?― ptal se Jimmy.

„No tak,― zvedal ho Mick ze ţidle, „nebuď takový stařeček.―

„Nech ho,― zastal se Jimmyho táta. „Kdyţ nechce jít, ať nechodí.―

Měla jsem ráda to dlouhé trmácení se lesem na sněţnicích, kdy člověk kráčí nemotorně jak astronaut ve stavu beztíţe. Měla jsem ráda štípání větru ve tvářích. Měla jsem ráda vytrvalé sípání našeho dechu, křoupání sněţnic a cinkot sněhu padajícího ve větru ze stromů. Mick měl rád, jak si u toho dá do těla. Máma měla ráda, jak jsem vţdycky byla po návratu tak utahaná, ţe jsem rovnou padla do postele a spala. Táta měl rád stromek zadarmo.

87

Mick a já jsme stromky důkladně prohlíţeli, debatovali o tom, jak jsou větve vyváţené, jak plné nebo vyschlé nám připadá jehličí, jak silný je kmínek. Já jsem měla nejradši smrčky s jejich harmonickým kuţelovitým tvarem. Strýc Mick tíhnul k borovicím kvůli vůni, co prýštila z jehličí, kdyţ jste ho rozmáčkli mezi prsty, vůni, která vyplnila pokoj jako těţké aroma pomerančů. Pro sebe Mick nevyhnutelně vybíral výhradně vychrtlé, polomrtvé stromky. Máma o nich říkala, ţe jsou to stromky á la

Charlie Brown a ţe jedině Bůh ví, co se mu na nich líbí. Já jsem došla k závěru, ţe

Mick měl vţdycky slabost pro outsidery. Coţ u Micka nevadilo, protoţe jeho stromek nikdo kromě něj neviděl. Kdybych domů přinesla takhle obludný stromek já, máma by mě zarazila.

Den mojí první výpravy pro vánoční stromek skončil pro mě horkou čokoládou a pocukrovanými sušenkami a pro Micka pivem a závinem s mletým masem. Jimmy, máma a táta se dohadovali, kam přijdou jaké ozdoby, zatímco Mick seděl u stolu v kuchyni a nevšímal si jich. Svůj úkol jsme splnili. Kdyţ jsem sušenky dojedla, usnula jsem rovnou u stolu. Později, kdyţ jsem byla o něco starší, sedávali jsme po výpravě pro vánoční stromeček v příjemném, spokojeném mlčení, dokud se Mick nerozhodl, ţe je na čase jít. Pak se vţdycky naklonil, políbil mě na temeno hlavy a bez rozloučení odešel.

Týden před Vánocemi, kdyţ naši ještě na poslední chvíli chtěli jít nakupovat, nás táta zavezl k Mickovi do jeho nového bytu. Uţ ve vchodu do budovy jsme slyšeli halas hlasitého smíchu. Mickova návštěva byl muţ se dvěma dlouhými spletenými copy, vysokými lícními kostmi zjizvenými od neštovic a křivým nosem. Připadal mi povědomý, ačkoli jsem ho nikdy předtím neviděla, a pak mi došlo, ţe voní stejně jako

Mick. Obklopovala ho silná vůně té samé značky cigaret, co Mick vţdycky kouřil.

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„Alberte!― zavolal Mick. „Pojď, seznámím tě s Barrym. Barry, tohle je můj brácha Al. Tohle je Jimmy, budoucí olympijská hvězda, a tohle,― popadl mě kolem ramen a s vervou mě podrbal na hlavě, „je naše malá bojovnice, Příšera.―

„Nazdar,― pozdravil Barry hlubokým chraplavým hlasem. Potřásl tátovi rukou.

„Nevěděl jsem, ţe tu máš návštěvu,― poznamenal táta.

„Návštěvu?― divil se Barry. „Tys jim o mně neřekl? Ani mně, ţe tu máš rodinu, ty parchante nevděčnej!―

Mick se zakřenil. „Byli jsme spolu tehdy ve Washingtonu, v budově Úřadu pro indiánský záleţitosti–―

„To se pořád ještě snaţíš lidem nakecávat hovadiny o tom, jakej seš bojovník?― zeptal se Barry a dloubl Micka loktem do ţeber. „No tak, přiznej barvu. Přidal ses k A.I.M. akorát proto, aby ses dostal mý ségře pod sukni.―

Táta svraštil čelo. „Můţu se zeptat Edith, jestli by děcka pohlídala, kdyţ tu máš–―

„Ale ne, ne, zůstaňte,― odporoval Mick.

„Já–―

„Alberte, tohle je tvůj švagr,― pronesl Mick, opřel se do ţidle a čekal na tátovu reakci.

„Jo?― zeptal se táta pochybovačně. „A pozvánka byla v poště?―

„Ale kde, byla to indiánská svatba,― vysvětlil Barry. „S šamanem a vším. Jak dlouho vám to tehdy vydrţelo, co? Dva, tři dny?―

„Vyliţ mi prdel,― reagoval Mick a Barryho dloubl. Ten ho na oplátku dloubl taky.

„Nejseš můj typ,― odpověděl.

„Jsou tu děti,― připomněl táta.

„Budu uţ muset jít,― zvedl se Barry. Vedle táty čněl, ale trochu se shrbil, takţe vypadal vysoký asi jak Mick. „Popřemýšlej o tom, Micku.―

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Mick zavrtěl hlavou. „Jsem ve výsluţbě. Ale rád jsem tě zas viděl. Dej si bacha, ať se zas do něčeho namočíš, parchante bláznivá.―

Barry ho poplácal po rameni. „To samý platí pro tebe.―

Znova se zasmáli, pak na nás Barry kývnul a odešel.

„Co to mělo znamenat?―

„Jako Barry? Shání lidi pro nějaký další beznadějný případ. Něco o sobech karibu kdesi na severu.―

Táta se zeptal, jestli můţeme zůstat asi tak do desíti, a Mick odpověděl, ţe klidně.

Jimmy se usadil před televizí a já jsem počkala, aţ táta odejde, a pak se Micka zeptala, jestli fakt byl ţenatý.

„V jiným ţivotě,― odpověděl. „Strašně, strašně dávno. Kdo si dá zmrzlinu?―

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Na jaře mě Mick vzal sbírat q°alh‟m. Potulovali jsme se lesem a cestou zastavovali, abychom si prohlédli zajímavé stromy nebo poslouchali ptáky nebo házeli kameny do

řeky. Rozhlíţeli jsme se po zemi, jestli někde uvidíme q°alh‟m, široké pilovité listy výhonků ostruţiníku ojíněného, na kterém rostou černé maliny, nebo ostruţiníku skvělého, jehoţ plodům se říká lososky, protoţe se obyčejně jí s lososím masem.

Člověk si musí dávat pozor, aby nebral výhonky, které uţ jsou vyšší neţ po kolena, protoţe jakmile dorostou do takové výšky, jejich stvoly zdřevnatí, a ať koušete, jak koušete, stejně je nemůţete rozţvýkat.

Zima v Kitamaatu znamená celou dlouhou sezónu nanicovaté, drahé zeleniny z města. Q°alh‟m je první příchuť jara. Výhonky mají slupku podobnou slupce kiwi, pichlavou, ale měkkou. Kdyţ je oloupete, jsou průsvitně zelené, lehce křoupou a chutnají trochu jako zelený hrášek. Q°alh‟m se dá sbírat přinejlepším několik málo týdnů.

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Mick měl q°alh‟mu dva pořádné svazky a nesl je pod paţemi. Já měla menší svazeček, a neţ jsme se vydali zpátky k Mickovu autu, zdecimovala jsem ho na pouhé dva výhonky.

„S tímhletím se stavíme u máti,― oznámil mi Mick a zvedl jeden svazek.

Dům Ma-ma-oo byl jeden z nejstarších ve vesnici, krabice s nízkým stropem v přízemí a střechou příkrou jak na kostelní věţi. Byl natřený nevýraznou hnědou barvou, která se místy odlupovala, a pod ní se ukazovalo šedivé dřevo. Sklo v okenních tabulkách bylo tak zvlněné, ţe svět venku vypadal jako odraz v zrcadle zábavního parku. Na zahradničení si Ma-ma-oo nikdy nepotrpěla, takţe trávník před domem byla divočina s bezovými keři vysokými jako stromy a změtí nesekané trávy.

Mick otevřel dveře, vešel dovnitř a zavolal: „Yowtz!―

„Micku!― ozvala se Ma-ma-oo. Vyšla z kuchyně a utírala si ruce do zástěry.

„Na,― podával jí Mick svazek q°alh‟mu.

„Á, na ty jsem zrovna měla zálusk.― odpověděla. „Pojďte dál, sedněte si, dejte si

čaj.―

Šli jsme s ní do kuchyně, kde na lince chladly čerstvě upečené sušenky. Jakmile jsem byla zaměstnaná jídlem a zticha, obrátila se k Mickovi. Povídali si, zatímco já jsem si prohlíţela všecko kolem. Uvnitř bylo uklizeno, Ma-ma-oo se ale neobtěţovala s ozdobami jako ostatní babičky, co jsem znala. Na stěnách nic neviselo, na ţidlích neměla ţádné polštářky, na konferenčním stolku ţádné cetky. Její prosezený oranţový gauč se nikdy nehnul z místa pod oknem do ulice. Závěsy byly tak vetché, ţe jsem se jich bála dotknout. Stačilo prudce vydechnout a s šepotem se otíraly o praskající linoleum, na kterém pořád ještě zářilo pár míst, kde jeho zaţloutlý povrch nebyl úplně prochozený. Měla těţký černý telefon s otočným číselníkem, který zvonil jak poţární poplach. Na telefonním stolku stála fotka jejího manţela, Shermana, který umřel

91 předtím, neţ jsem se narodila, fotka Micka s obrovským platýzem a domeček vyrobený z dřívek od nanuků, který jsem pro ni vyrobila ve školce a který jsem celý pomalovala srdíčky. Ani kdyţ se lepidlo rozpadlo na padrť a dřívka od nanuků jedno po druhém upadala, Ma-ma-oo domeček nevyhodila.

Nosila oblečení ze sekáče Armády spásy. Z košilí a šatů, které uţ byly moc obnošené, dělala zástěry. Kdyţ uţ i zástěry byly úplně prodřené, nadělala z nich utěrky, a kdyţ i ty se rozpadly, pouţila to, co zbylo, na vycpávání polštářků. Tenhle návyk nosit oblečení, dokud se jí doslova nerozpadne na těle, mámu neuvěřitelně vytáčel.

Pravidelně pro Ma-ma-oo kupovala stylově ušité šaty, kalhoty a košile. Ma-ma-oo je pečlivě ukládala do komory s tím, ţe si je obleče, aţ se bude snaţit na někoho udělat dojem.

Rybářské sítě ale přitom měla vţdycky v bezvadném stavu, takţe vypadaly jako zbrusu nové. Jednou mnohem později jsem pak poznamenala, ţe kdyţ je tak šikovná na spravování sítí, určitě by jí šlo i háčkování. Zaklonila hlavu a rozřehtala se tak, ţe si musela sednout.

Ma-ma-oo nikdy nezamykala s tím, ţe beztak neměla nic, co by někdo mohl chtít ukrást. Myslím, ţe to bylo proto, ţe nikdo, koho znala, nezamykal, takţe jí to připadalo nepatřičné. My jsme zamykali, protoţe se k nám kdysi někdo vloupal a ukradl televizi, video a všechny kazety.

Máma s tátou kroutili hlavou nad tím, jak se ve vesnici věci mají.

„Musel to být jeden z těch feťáků,― prohlásila máma.

„No,― řekl na to táta, „aspoň si teď pořídíme VHS.―

Předtím jsme měli Betu, protoţe táta tvrdil, ţe je mnohem vyšší kvality, jenţe pak to začalo vypadat, ţe kaţdý kupuje VHS. Protoţe přiznat, ţe jsme si nevybrali ten správný systém, se zdálo tak nějak trapné, nechali jsme to aţ do té doby tak, jak to bylo.

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Ma-ma-oo nikdy neměla ani Betu. Její televize byla pozůstatek z černobílé éry a kolem antény tvaru králičích uší měla omotaný alobal. Občas chytala vysílačky kamioňáků nebo rádio z Vancouveru. Koukali jsme třeba na nějaký seriál a postavy najednou vyruší nějaký hlas, co oznamuje, ţe šestnáctka dneska nějak klouţe, kámo.

Příkrá střecha, rozvrzané tmavé dřevo, pokřivené schodiště a pach staroby a plesniviny by zvládly odradit všechny kromě těch největších zoufalců, ale pravdou bylo, ţe se do toho domu nikdo nikdy nevloupal, protoţe všichni měli za to, ţe tam straší.

Mick jí rád nosil kdeco. Kdyţ začaly dozrávat lososky, nasbírali jsme dva kýble.

Já jsem nejraději sbírala červené, protoţe sladkost závisí na barvě bobule, červené jsou nejsladší, oranţové jsou sladké o něco míň a ţluté nejméně. Zralé bobule můţou být velké jako poslední článek palce a je nejlepší je sbírat, dokud ještě nejsou úplně měkké.

Ti, kteří na lososkách nevyrostli, tvrdí, ţe jsou vodové a plné semínek. Pro mě je jejich chuť měkce sladká s jemnou vůní.

Ze ztvrdlé části rostliny vyrostou výhonky do výšky zhruba tak rukou. Jakmile se promění ve stonky a pak keříky, rozvíjí se na nich pilovité listy podobné listům maliníku. Tvrdé uzlíkovité pupeny rozkvétají do květu zhruba velikosti čvrťáku s pěti okvětními plátky slézově růţové barvy. Okvětní lístky vytváří hluboký kalíšek s chlupatým ţlutým středem, z nějţ prýští hustý pikantní nektar. Kdyţ okvětní lístky opadají, vykouknou ven lososky. Nejdřív jsou zelené a tvrdé a vypadají jako nezralé ostruţiny. Pak se při dešti nalijí a změknou a na slunci dozrají a vybarví se do oslnivě rudé, oranţové nebo ţluté a září na zeleném pozadí keřů.

Černé maliny, co rostou na ostruţiníku ojíněném, jsou úplně jiné neţ lososky a dozrávají o chlup později. Z mělkých bílých květů nejde vylízávat nektar tak jako z květů lososek, ale silněji voní. Plody jsou intenzivně sladké jako čerstvé maliny s výraznou chutí, ale o něco sušší. Rozmazávala jsem si rozmáčknuté zralé plody po

93 rtech, protoţe po nich rty pak měly barvu matné rudé rtěnky, jakou nosila Ma-ma-oo na fotkách z mládí.

Nasbírali jsme bobule pro Ma-ma-oo a ona z nich pak vařila lososky ve vlastní

šťávě. Kdyţ jsme měli vrchovatý kýbl lososek a černých malin, přinesli jsme ovoce k ní, a ona ho namočila do velikánského hrnce studené vody s trochou soli, aby vyhnala havěť. Pootevírala skleničky borůvek a brusinek a nechala je na stole. Zatímco čerstvé ovoce se máčelo, seděli jsme v obýváku a dívali se na „Mladí a neklidní―, „Všechny moje děti― a večer pak na „Dynastii―.

„Lauren,― křičela Ma-ma-oo na televizi, „vykašli se na něj, nestojí ti za to! Na„.

Ţenská bláznivá.―

„Máti,― odpovídal Mick, „je to jen televize. V televizi jsou všichni blbí.―

„Ale já vím, já vím. Wah, ona se k němu fakt vrací.― Smutně kroutila hlavou.

Kdyţ jsme povybírali havěť, listí a větvičky, Ma-ma-oo dala všechny bobule do

čisté mísy a rozmačkala je. Za stálého míchání přidala pár lţic tuku z korušek a pak drobet cukru. Mísu dala na další hodinu do lednice, aby se chutě smísily, a my jsme dál koukali na televizi, dokud lososky ve vlastní šťávě nebyly hotové, pak jsme šli do kuchyně a Ma-ma-oo mi podala malou dezertní misku. Jídali jsme v uctivém tichu a

Ma-ma-oo při jídle extaticky zavírala oči. Díky tuku je chuť bobulí hříšně sytá a hmota je hutná jako tvaroh. Zbytek jsme si rozdělili a já si svůj díl brala s sebou domů, tak nacpaná, aţ se mi chtělo spát.

Později na jaře, kdyţ měl Ba-ba-oo narozeniny, mě Ma-ma-oo vzala k Octopus

Beds. Přinesla láhev Johnnieho Walkera a balení cigaret Player‗s. Já jsem měla nést otevřené balení vanilkových Twinkies, které mi předala s přísným varováním, ţe ví přesně, kolik jich tam ještě je.

„Dones dřevo,― nakázala mi se strhaným obličejem.

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Běţela jsem přes pláţ a do lesa a nasbírala tolik suchého naplaveného dříví, kolik jen jsem mohla unést, utíkala zpátky a sloţila jí ho k nohám. Vítr cloumal stromy. Dál nad Douglasovým zálivem jsem viděla bílou oponu blíţícího se deště. V hustém dusném vzduchu se jí oheň rozdělával těţko.

„Shermane,― zavolala do větru. „Všecko nejlepší, ty starej mizero. Něco jsem ti donesla.―

Ma-ma-oo si odhodila vlasy z obličeje a otevřela Johnnieho Walkera. Říkala něco v haiselštině, nerozuměla jsem co. Mávala lahví nad ohněm, který prskal a syčel.

„Tohle je pro Shermana,― oznámila a poloţila ji opatrně doprostřed plamenů.

„Doufám, ţe seš aspoň vděčnej. Pozdrav svýho ba-ba-oo, Liso.―

„Ale vţdyť tu není,― namítla jsem.

„Ale je,― trvala na svém. „Jenom ho nevidíš, protoţe je mrtvej.―

Zamračila jsem se. „A ty ho vidíš?―

„Taková je po tobě,― zavolala Ma-ma-oo do vzduchu. „Ne, nevidím ho. Je mrtvej.

Můţe za tebou přijít jenom ve snech. Buď zdvořilá a pozdrav ho, kdyţ mu dáváš jídlo.―

Podala mi jednu Twinkie a řekla, ţe ji mám hodit do ohně.

„Ahoj,― začala jsem. Hloubavě jsem se zadívala na plněný piškot. „Rozdělí se se mnou?―

„Oslov ho jménem. Kdyţ neřekneš jeho jméno, schlamstne mu to nějakej jinej duch.―

„Ahoj Ba-ba-oo. Umím v haiselštině napočítat do deseti,― zkusila jsem znova. Od rána jsem to všem oznamovala, ale nikdo neměl zájem mě poslouchat. „Chceš to slyšet?―

„Tak spusť, poslouchá tě.―

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Napočítala jsem v haiselštině do deseti a pak mu vyprávěla, co jsme dělali ve

škole, a přitom jsem do ohně naházela čtyři Twinkies. Ma-ma-oo přihodila další čtyři a já jsem zírala na poslední dvě.

„To ještě nemá dost?― zeptala jsem se.

„Sherman je pořádnej nenaţranec,― odpověděla.

„Nemůţeme mu dát něco jinýho?―

Zavrtěla hlavou. „Sherman nic jinýho nemá rád. Nikdys neměl rád nic jinýho,

ţe?― Chvíli mu něco povídala a já jsem se začala nudit a připadat si přehlíţená.

Spustil se déšť, veliké kapky při dopadu zvedaly ze země prach a syčely na zčeřené mořské hladině. Ma-ma-oo se rozloučila, zadusila oheň, vzala mě za ruku a ještě jednou se zastavila a zadívala se na oceán směrem k místu, kam strýc Mick vţdycky dával svou rybářskou síť.

Ma-ma-oo mi vyprávěla, jak Ba-ba-oo vţdycky ráno s odlivem pádloval na moře a večer se s přílivem vracel. Kdyţ ještě chodil na střední, měl tak ohromné paţe, ţe byl vţdycky hvězdou při závodech kánoí o sportovním dnu. Kaţdý ho chtěl ve svém týmu.

Jednoho dne uklouzl ve vaně, praštil se do hlavy, ztratil vědomí a utopil se. Voda přetekla a vytékala zpod dveří. Strýc Mick musel vykopnout dveře, kdyţ si Ma-ma-oo začala dělat starosti. Mick Ma-ma-oo pustil do koupelny, aţ kdyţ Ba-ba-oo-a zkontroloval, zjistil, ţe neţije, zastavil vodu a přikryl ho ručníkem.

Kdyţ jsem si pak večer chystala věci do školy, máma se mě zeptala, co jsem celý den dělala, a já jsem jí povídala o všem kromě Ma-ma-oo a Octopus Beds. Připadalo mi nepatřičné jí o tom vykládat. Měla jsem pocit, ţe je to něco důvěrného.

* * *

Kdyţ bylo hezky, jezdily jsme s Tab na kole na vršek Kopce sebevrahů. K nám domů jsme moc nechodily. Máma pořád nahlíţela do pokoje, aby zkontrolovala, co tam

96 děláme. Dívala se na Tab, jako by čekala, ţe něco sbalí do kapsy, coţ taky jednou udělala. Kdyţ byla Tab na odchodu, na podlahu spadla jedna mámina náušnice. Máma nastavila dlaň. Tab ji zvedla a s provinilým pohledem je obě mámě vrátila.

Tab navrhla, abychom si místo jeţdění na kole na Kopec sebevrahů zašly radši na hřbitov zakouřit. Zastavily jsme se u hrobu Ba-ba-oo-a. Na jeho bílém kamenném náhrobku stálo „Sherman Hill - 30. březen 1923 – 7. únor 1970. Milovaný manţel.―

Ma-ma-oo mu k náhrobku poloţila popelník. Ba-ba-oo přišel ve Druhé světové válce o paţi, u Verrières Ridge. Kdyţ se vrátil, nemohl sehnat práci ani nedostal peníze, které myslel, ţe dostane od Ministerstva pro záleţitosti veteránů, protoţe tam mu řekli, ţe se o něj má postarat Úřad pro indiánské záleţitosti. Z indiánských záleţitostí mu oznámili,

ţe pokud chce stejné výhody jako bílí veteráni, musí se odstěhovat z rezervace a vzdát se statutu indiána. Kdyby to udělal, přišli by o dům, a tou dobou uţ měli tři děti a můj táta, Albert, byl na cestě.

„Geordie a Edith pomáhali, jak jen mohli,― vyprávěl mi Mick a mačkal mi přitom ruku. „Ale pak uţ měli vlastní rodiny. Můj otec celý ţivot tvrdě pracoval, jenţe potom začal říkat samé: ‚Jsem úplně k ničemu, Agnes,‗ a matka nevěděla, co má dělat.―

Neviděla jsem Ma-ma-oo uţ pár týdnů. Od té oslavy byla celá rozmrzelá. Tab načala novou krabičku a jednu cigaretu mi podala. Dařilo se jí u kouření vypadat cool, kdeţto já jsem pořád ještě kuckala a musela se přidrţovat náhrobku, kdyţ to na mě začalo působit. Škrábalo mě v krku a na jazyku mi zůstávala trpká pachuť ztuchlých cigaret. Tabin zapalovač cvaknul, zasyčel plamínek a bylo cítit další cigaretu.

„Přemýšlíš někdy o tom, ţe bys odsud prostě vypadla?―

„Ty jo?―

97

„Jo.― Třela si paţe. „Hned jak mi bude šestnáct, půjdu pracovat do konzervárny v Rupertu a všecky peníze si budu šetřit. Pak si koupím dům. Bude malý a bude na něm spousta práce, ale bude můj.―

Pronesla to s takovou váţností, ţe jsem byla přesvědčená, ţe přesně tak se to bude muset stát.

* * *

V Kemanu je hřbitov. Vyjdi ven z našeho domu s velikými černookými okny zírajícími na záliv. Dej se po stezce na pláţ. Po pláţi jdi asi tři minuty. Pak vejdi mezi stromy, překračuj klády leţící na zemi a dávej si pozor na pichlavé oplopanaxy, které člověku sahají aţ po pás.

Všechny hřbitovy by měly mít mechem porostlé stromy vrzající ve větru a skřípavý zvuk vln naráţejících na oblé kamínky na pláţi. Stromy jsou tu tak vysoké a ohromné, ţe pod jejich klenbou je i ten nejslunečnější den bledý. Procházej se tu pomalu, dávej pozor, kam šlapeš. Ţádné úhledné řady kříţů, ţádný úzkostlivě udrţovaný trávník, ţádné pečlivě opečovávané květiny ti tu nebudou dělat průvodce.

Příliš sterilní, příliš antiseptické. Náhrobky s vytesanými orly, kosatkami, havrany, bobry se vynořují podle všeho nahodile. Za časů velkého umírání se do jednoho hrobu pohřbívaly celé rodiny. Jestli máš hlad, nasbírej si divoké borůvky, nechej si na jazyku rozplývat jejich trpkou chuť, po které následuje taková ta ostrá sladkost, kterou borůvky z obchodu nemívají. Všimni si, ţe nejnalitější borůvky rostou na hrobech.

* * *

[…]

Část druhá

Píseň tvého dechu

98

Navazování kontaktu s mrtvými, lekce první. Spánek je pozměněný stav vědomí.

Usnout znamená upadnout do hlubokého léčivého transu. Na spektru realit je bdělý stav na jedné straně a stav spánku daleko, daleko na straně druhé. Kdyţ je někdo naprosto ponořený do filmu, hry nebo práce, je ve stavu mírného transu. Snění s otevřenýma očima, modlitba nebo posedlost jsou pak stavy silnějšího transu. Většina lidí do transu upadá bezděčně. Chceš-li navázat kontakt se světem duchů, musíš mít kontrolu nad tím, jak se do tohoto stavu kdesi mezi bděním a spánkem dostáváš.

* * *

Příliv mi dává zabrat. Kdyţ jedu proti němu, člun podkluzuje do strany jako zblázněný.

Obloha, arch mokré šedi, visí nízko nad obzorem. Nad hlavou mi zavříská racek, který má namířeno ke Kitamaatu. Takhle brzy ráno ještě v dálce bliká světlo majáku, zoufalé varování před útesy. Uţ od malička jsem záblesky světla z majáku pozorovala vţdycky celé hodiny. Světlo vychází z vršku nízké kovové věţe natřené červeně a bíle, která je asi patnáct kiláků od vesnice. Kdyţ vidím osamělý záblesk bílého světla proti nekonečnému lánu temnoty, připadám si nádherně sama.

Zrovna míjím hřbitov. Pěšky se tam z vesnice jde asi tak dvacet minut, člunem to ale trvá sotva pět. Poprvé mě tam vzal Mick, kdyţ jsem ještě byla malá. Pamatuju si,

ţe jsem zírala na hroby a říkala si, jak vypadají neupraveně, potrhané hadry a květináče a harampádí všude kolem. Podruhé jsem sem přišla, kdyţ jsem byla o něco starší, s druţinou, do které jsem chodila o letních prázdninách. Měli jsme tuhou obtisknout povrch náhrobků na papír, ten pak přinést do třídy a ostatním popsat, co jsme viděli.

Většina dětí si vybrala vyřezávané totemy, zdobná písmena, já jsem ale uviděla prostý náhrobek, na kterém nebylo nic neţ číslo 100 a obrácené písmeno F. Protoţe se to dalo lehko otisknout, přiloţila jsem k nápisu papír a přejíţděla po něm tuhou. Kdyţ jsem stála u tabule před celou třídou a svůj papír zvedla, prosvítalo jím světlo. 100 a obrácené

99

F bylo ve skutečnosti pozpátku napsané „Fool―, coţ v angličtině znamená blázen. Nikdo ve třídě nevěděl, co to má znamenat, tak jsem po škole přinesla otisk k Ma-ma-oo, a ta mi řekla, ţe ve světě mrtvých je všechno obráceně. Kdyţ jsi na onom světě, náš den je tvoje noc, naše levá je tvoje pravá, co je v našem světě spálené a shnilé, je ve tvém celistvé.

Při Mickově pohřbu byla rakev zavřená. Fotka na rakvi byl rozmazaný

černobílý snímek z jeho basketbalových časů, kdy mu bylo šestnáct nebo sedmnáct, s trofejí v ruce se usmívá do foťáku, sebevědomý, mladý a upravený. O časech své slávy, kdy býval nejlepším hráčem, nikdy nemluvil. Na té fotce nebyl Mick, kterého jsem znala. Seděla jsem v první řadě skládacích ţidlí, zírala na tu fotku a říkala si: tohle byl ten člověk, se kterým máma kdysi chodila.

Kdyţ jsem se rozhlédla, všimla jsem si jednoho z Mickových přátel z dob, kdy byl v A.I.M. – do Kitamaatu jich na pohřeb přijelo asi sedm, muţů i ţen. Tenhle mi připadal povědomý, pak jsem si uvědomila, ţe je cítit po Sago, stejných cigaretách jako kouřil Mick. Barry, vybavila jsem si jeho jméno. Kdyţ jsme šli v pohřebním průvodu,

Barry zpíval píseň Mickovi na počest. Měl vysoký hlas a nerozuměla jsem ničemu z toho, co se zpívalo, ale aspoň nebylo tolik slyšet skřípání, kdyţ se rakev spouští do hrobu, naříkání tety Trudy a potom zvuk hlíny dopadající na víko rakve. Máma mě vzala za ruku a stiskla. Teta Kate dala tetě Trudy ruku na rameno a něco jí šeptala. Táta poloţil na hrob náš věnec. Kdyţ se vrátil k nám, máma mu ovinula ruku kolem pasu.

Jimmy stál vedle táty a zíral na zem.

Dav lidí se vytratil, aby rodina mohla být s Mickem o samotě. Stáli jsme v kruhu kolem ţivých i umělých kytek. Soustředila jsem se na stromy. Ve větru se pohupovaly a skřípaly. Slunce pálilo a mně bylo v černých šatech horko. Mámina ruka

100 byla celá zpocená. Dovedla mě k hrobu a já jsem věděla, ţe se mám rozloučit, ale stejně jsem tam jen tak stála, dokud mě nezatahala za ruku a neodvedla pryč.

[…]

* * *

Jimmy šel na Mickovy narozeniny k Octopus Beds se mnou. Nechtěla jsem ho s sebou, ale on stejně šel, i kdyţ jsem ho posílala, ať jde a skočí si z mola. Vzala jsem s sebou plechovku tabáku Sago, přenosné stereo a kazetu Elvise. Posbírala jsem tolik suchého dříví, kolik jsem mohla pobrat, a rozdělala oheň. Pustila jsem kazeťák a Elvis začal zpívat „Such a Night―.

Vlny doráţely na kamenitý břeh. V dálce nad Douglasovým zálivem jsem viděla veliká plná mračna, jak se pomalounku valí k jihu.

„Tohle je pro Micka,― zavolala jsem, kdyţ jsem házela lístky tabáku do ohně.

„Co to děláš?― ptal se Jimmy.

„Buď zticha,― okřikla jsem ho a zírala jsem na oceán, tam, co Mick vţdycky dával svou rybářskou síť. Táta vytáhl Mickovu mrtvolu ze sítě a zabalil do plachty.

Tuleni a krabi mu seţrali obličej, pravou paţi a část levé nohy.

„Jak vypadal?― vyptával se mě Jimmy zvědavý na podrobnosti.

„Jak škaredá ryba,― odpověděla jsem. „Špatný úlovek.―

* * *

Dva týdny po Mickově smrti přinesl strýc Geordie osmdesát dva lososů nerka. Dvacet jich dal Ma-ma-oo, dvacet rodičům své ţeny a dvacet nám. Máma mě vzala s sebou k Ma-ma-oo, která trvala na tom, ţe ţádnou pomoc nepotřebuje a ţe se o uzení postará sama. Máma tvrdila, ţe si pomůţou navzájem.

Táta za domem připravil stůl - dvě kozy na řezání dříví a přes ně prkna. Máma mě nechala odsekávat rybám hlavy. Losos nerka je těţká ryba. Odsekávání hlav pro mě

101 bylo nejjednodušší, kdyţ jsem rybám strčila prsty do očních důlků, abych si je při sekání mohla podrţet na místě. Kdyţ jsem se trochu zlepšila, máma mě nechala odsekávat i ocasy a ploutve. Sama ryby čistila a vykosťovala, Ma-ma-oo měla na starosti porcování plátků masa k uzení, datla. V korunách stromů kolem nás mávaly křídly vrány. Zíraly na kbelík plný rybích vnitřností. Máma jim nechtěla dávat nic k jídlu, protoţe, říkávala, jak je Jimmy pořád krmí, jsou pak věčně někde kolem domu, chátra líná, a jenom čekají, co jim kdo dá, a serou na všecko okolo.

Nebe bylo zataţené a vypadalo, ţe kaţdou chvíli spustí. Ma-ma-oo byla zticha a pracovala tak rychle, ţe se musela čas od času zastavit a počkat, aţ ji máma a já doţeneme. Ruce jsem měla unavené, ale byla jsem ráda, ţe mám něco na práci. „Učíš se rychle,― poznamenala máma, kdyţ jsem jí podávala dalšího lososa. Polovinu ryb uţ jsme měly hotovou a já jsem jí pomáhala dávat dlouhé plátky červeného masa na tyče.

Ještě jsem nedosáhla na krokve udírny, takţe tyče s rybami zavěšovaly máma a Ma-ma- oo. Máma šla dovnitř, aby začala s konzervováním druhé půlky ryb, a nechala mě venku v udírně, ať Ma-ma-oo dělám společnost. Kouř byl ostrý a pálil mě v očích. V přístřešku bylo horko a šero. Sundala jsem si bundu a zanesla ji ven, aby nebyla cítit kouřem.

Ma-ma-oo seděla na dřevěném špalku a zírala do nikam. Teď, kdyţ neměla nic na práci, celá zplihla. Sedla jsem si na zem vedle ní a zívla. Zakryla si oči rukou.

Ramena se jí začala třást. Kdyţ plakala, nevydala ze sebe jedinou hlásku.

Opřela jsem si hlavu o její koleno. Poloţila mi volnou ruku na krk. Kůţe na jejích prstech byla hrubá, její ruka hřála a byla cítit po rybách.

* * *

Jely jsme s Ma-ma-oo autem po úzké dřevařské cestě, která vedla divočinou přes rovinu zaplavovanou přílivovou řekou Kitimat. Ma-ma-oo zastavila, aţ kdyţ byla cesta tak zarostlá, ţe nebylo vidět štěrk. Podala mi lopatu, přehodila si přes rameno ručnici a

102 vyrazila do houštin. Zevnitř náklaďáku vypadaly stromy nádherně. Kdyţ jsem pochodovala za Ma-ma-oo, chránila si obličej před větvemi a brouzdala suchým listím, pod nímţ se skrývaly blátivé kaluţe, byla jsem krásou jasně zelených barev pozdního léta ohromená mnohem míň. Déšť mi promáčel dţíny, bundu. Po kotníky jsem byla pokrytá bahnem a jen pánbů věděl, co mi máma asi tak poví na moje nové kecky. Kdysi dávno tu bývala stará rybářská osada, a ještě předtím zimní osada. Některé kůly pořád ještě stály, ohromné, šedé kulatiny, které se ztěţka opíraly o divokou spleť podrostu, teď uţ ale starou osadu odplavovala řeka. Lidé si tu sítě splétávali z du´qua, kopřivy dvoudomé, která rostla divoce všude kolem. Vysoké útlé rostliny s ochmýřenými listy pálily hůř neţ medúzy.

Narazily jsme na hromádku medvědího trusu. Byl ještě vlhký. Ma-ma-oo ho rozkopala, sklonila se nad ním a zírala, jako by z těţkého hnědého hovna uměla vyčíst vlastní budoucnost. Na chvíli znehybněla, neţ se zorientovala, pak si z tváře otřela kapky deště.

„Podívej,― začala. „Vidíš ty rybí kosti? Pořádně se před zimou vykrmuje.―

„To je nechutný,― poznamenala jsem.

„Podle trusu poznáš, kde medvěd zrovna bude. Semínka bobulí, je v houštinách. Rybí kosti, je dole u řeky.―

„Stejně je to nechutný.―

„Vy mladí dneska…―

Po další půlhodině trmácení se zastavila před rostlinou vysokou jak ona, s širokými, hladkými listy, které vybíhaly ze stonku jako listy tulipánu. Na vrcholku měla drobné bílé kvítky.

„Jenom se dívej,― nakázala mi a podala mi ručnici.

103

Vzala lopatu a začala kolem rostliny kopat velikou díru. Kdyţ narazila na kořen, začala hrabat rukama. Kořen měl malou tmavou cibulku, dál ale pokračoval vláknitě jako krémově ţlutá kštice. Kdyţ kořene vyhrabala dostatečný kus, začala za něj tahat, dokud se neuvolnil. Otřepala z něj hlínu a kývla na mě, ţe mám přijít blíţ.

„Oxasuli,― vysvětlila. „Mocná medicína. Velice nebezpečná. Můţe tě zabít, víš? Musíš ji respektovat.― Kořen mi podala a já jsem ho uloţila do kbelíku. Kolem rostly ještě další keře oxasuli, ale řekla, ţe ty necháme na pokoji. Ještě jsme se chvíli plahočily, našly dvě další vhodné rostliny a pak Ma-ma-oo prohlásila, ţe máme dost.

„Tohle si poloţ na parapet a duchové se budou drţet zpátky.―

„Jak to?―

„Duchové nesnáší, jak to voní. Ochrání tě to před duchy, dušemi, zlými kouzly.

Na, odlomíš asi tolik a spálíš to na plotně–―

„Jak vonnou tyčinku?―

„Vonná tyčinka je co?―

„Jak cedrový jehličí nebo svazky zubří trávy.―

„Á. Jo, přesně tak. Prokuř tím celej dům. Prokuř rohy domu. Kdyţ někdo umře,

člověk musí být opatrnej.―

„Proč?―

Znovu se zastavila, zamračila se. „To se těţko vysvětluje. Ale nejez to, slyšelas? Sníš to a usneš a uţ se neprobudíš. Je to dobrý na revma. Vůbec na klouby.

Ale těţko se to pouţívá. Musí se to udělat správně, jinak se ti zastaví srdce. Zlá, bolestivá cesta z tohohle světa.―

„Hustý.―

Zakroutila hlavou. „Vy mladí.― Vytáhla krabičku cigaret a rozbalila fólii.

„Wow. Odkdy ty kouříš?―

104

„To není pro mě. Beru si pár cedrovejch větví. Tady necháme tabák, vidíš?―

Rozlomila cigaretu a tabák rozsypala u paty cedrového kmene. Řekla něco v haiselštině a pak ulomila jednu z větví. „Vezmem čtyři pro tebe a čtyři pro mě.―

„Ty ten tabák dáváš stromu?―

„To je pro duchy stromů. Něco si vezmeš, něco dáš. Ţádám o ochranu. Tohle přijde do rohů mýho domu. Tyhle postav ve svým pokoji. Pověs je takhle.―

„Jak ti duchové vypadají?―

Zastavila se, zadívala se do koruny cedru. „Nevím. Nikdy jsem ţádnýho neviděla. Nejmocnější stromy – ty největší, nejsilnější a nejstarší – mívaly vţdycky ducha, malýho muţíka s červenýma vlasama. Za starých časů vodili šamany k těm nejlepším stromům, aby si z nich mohli udělat kánoe.―

„Ach,― vydechla jsem celá roztřesená. Z plic mi na chvilku zmizel všechen vzduch a připadalo mi, ţe uţ se nenadechnu. „Ach.―

Ma-ma-oo se na mě letmo podívala se zvědavým výrazem a dala se znovu do pochodu. Vybrala další strom a nabídla mu tabák.

Dala jsem si záleţet, aby můj hlas zněl naprosto uvolněně. „Co by to znamenalo, kdyţ bys takovýho muţíka viděla?―

„Asi ţe budeš vyrábět kánoe.―

Zasmála jsem se. „To si nemyslím.―

„Nikdo uţ je nevyrábí,― pokračovala. „Je lehčí sebrat se a jít si koupit člun. Na tradicích uţ nezáleţí. Jenom člověka zdrţují.―

„Co jinýho by to ještě mohlo znamenat, kdybys ho viděla?―

Dotkla se mých vlasů. „Tys ho viděla, ţe?―

Kývla jsem.

„Hmm, tak to máš dar. Jako tvoje matka. Neřekla ti o tom?―

105

„Jaký dar?―

„Tvoje rodina z matčiny strany to tak mívá hodně. Vidíváš někdy do budoucnosti? Míváš tušení?―

„Předtuchy? Od toho muţíka. Ukáţe se a stane se něco špatnýho.―

Sedla si na pařez, pak rukou poklepala na místo vedle sebe. „Pojď, sedni si.―

Zamračila se. „Máma ti nikdy nic neřekla?―

„Akorát říkala, ţe to byl jen sen.―

„Chmm,― odfrkla si. „Ten muţík je průvodce, ale vůbec ne spolehlivý. Světu duchů nesmíš nikdy moc věřit. Uvaţují jinak neţ ţiví.―

„A co to teda má s mámou?―

„Kdyţ byla Gladys ještě malá, hodně lidí umíralo. Tubera. Chřipka. Chlast.

Nemoci. Věděla vţdycky dopředu, kdo bude další na řadě. Ale s takovým darem, z toho jsou lidi kolem pak akorát nervózní, víš?― usmála se.

„Máma nic nevídá,― protestovala jsem.

Ma-ma-oo si odfrkla podruhé. „Neříká ti to, kdyţ něco vidí. Nebo zapomněla jak. Nebo to ignoruje. Budeš se muset zeptat jí. To její babička, to byla opravdová

šamanka. Á, jak té se lidi báli. Kdyţ chtěli mluvit se svýma mrtvýma, chodili za ní.

Uměla opravdu tancovat a dokázala skládat nádherný písničky – který teď uţ nikdo nezpívá. A já byla tehdy ještě moc mladá na to, abych si je ukládala semhle.― Poklepala si na spánek.

Poslouchala jsem ji jen na půl ucha. Jakmile zmínila, ţe člověk můţe komunikovat se svými zemřelými, začala jsem přemýšlet, jestli bych mohla mluvit s Mickem. „Jak se takový kouzla dělají?―

106

„Kaţdej ví, ţe tradicím uţ odzvonilo. Dneska uţ se takový věci dělají jedině tajně. Jenţe jsou dobrý kouzla a zlý kouzla. Nejlepší je se do toho vůbec nepouštět, kdyţ nevíš, co děláš. Je to jak oxasuli. Zrádná věc.―

„Chmm,― vydechla jsem zklamaně.

Nejdřív jsme v domě pověsily cedrové větve a pak poloţily na parapety oxasuli. Kdyţ jsme zavěšovaly cedry v mém pokoji, vešel táta, a kdyţ viděl, co děláme, zvedl jedno obočí, ale neřekl nic.

107

7 Conclusion

This thesis discussed translating culture and transfer of meaning across cultures. It touched upon problems caused by different ways of understandings what culture is and what the nature of meaning is and explored in detail the holistic approach to translation suggested by Tymoczko as well as the way it attempts to overcome these obstacles.

Consequently, specific aspects of translating as a constructivist process were acknowledged and discussed, including shifts that are an inseparable part of transfer between languages and cultures.

The centre of interest was the translation of Eden Robinson‘s novel Monkey

Beach, hence the thesis focused on particularities of translating Native Canadian culture into Czech and addressed specific problems that a translator encounters while dealing with particularities of such texts. In order to apply the holistic approach in this specific translation, the role of Native Canadian culture and its various aspects in the novel were analyzed. The discussion of general issues as well as the detailed analysis of culture in the novel provided the basis for formulating a specific translation strategy which was then outlined and complemented with examples of specific translation solutions. The thesis also provided to the reader a sample translation of Monkey Beach which resulted from applying the chosen approach and hence served to unify the theoretical discussion with a practical outcome.

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8 Works Cited

8.1 Primary Materials

Highway, Tomson. Kiss of the Fur Queen. Toronto: Doubleday Canada, 1999.

Robinson, Eden. Monkey Beach. Toronto: Random House of Canada, 2000.

Robinson, Eden. ―Monkey Beach.‖ Trans. Eva Dobrovolná. Unpublished.

Robinson, Eden. ―Terminal Avenue.‖ An Anthology of Canadian Native Literature in

English. Ed. Daniel David Moses, and Terry Goldie. Toronto: Oxford U P,

1998, 469-74.

Robinson, Eden. ―Slepá ulice.‖ Transl. Dita Dvořáková and Lucie Martínková. Vinnetou

tady nebydlí: Antologie současných povídek severoamerických indiánů. Brno:

Větrné mlýny, 2003, 298-308.

8.2 Secondary Materials

Bassnett, Susan, and Harish Trivedi, eds. Post-Colonial Translation: Theory and

Practice. London: Routledge, 1999.

Blyth, Molly. “Tricky Stories Are the Cure:” Contemporary Indigenous Writing in

Canada. ProQuest Dissertations and Theses: The Humanities and Social

Sciences Collection, 2009. ProQuest. Web. Feb 20, 2012.

Cardinal, Philippe. Contemporary Ethnographic Translation of Traditional Aboriginal

Narrative: Textualizations of the Northern Tutchone Story of Crow. ProQuest

Dissertations and Theses: The Humanities and Social Sciences Collection,

2009. ProQuest. Web. Feb 20, 2012.

Dobson, Kit. ―Indigeneity and Diversity in Eden Robinson‘s Work.‖ Canadian

Literature 20.1 (2009): 54-67. Literature Online. Web. Dec 8, 2011.

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Fagan, Kristina. ―Weesageechak Meets the Weetigo: Storytelling, Humour, and Trauma

in the Fiction of Richard Van Camp, Tomson Highway, and Eden Robinson.‖

Studies in Canadian Literature 34.1 (2009): 204-226.

Hatim, Basil. Communication Across Cultures: Translation Theory and Contrastive

Text Linguistics. Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 1997.

Hatim, Basil, Ian Mason. Discourse and the Translator. London: Longman, 1990.

Highway, Tomson. „Pro nás příroda nikdy nezahynula.― Interview. By Klára Kolinská.

Plav – Měsíčník pro světovou literaturu. 7 – 8 (2010), 10 – 14.

Hoy, Helen. How Should I Read These?: Native Women Writers in Canada. Toronto: U

of Toronto P, 2001.

Katan, David. Tranlating Cultures, An Introduction for Translators, Interpreters and

Mediators. Manchester: St. Jerome Publishing, 2004.

Kolinská, Klára. Čekání na kojota: současné drama kanadských indiánů. Trans. Klára

Kolinská. Brno: Větrné mlýny, 2007.

New, W.H. ed. Native Writers and Canadian Writing: Canadian Literature Special

Issue. Vancouver: U of British Columbia P, 1990.

Nida, Eugene A. Toward a Science of Translating. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1964.

Rambousek, Jiří, ml. ―Poznámka k překladu.― Vinnetou tady nebydlí: Antologie

současných povídek severoamerických indiánů. Brno: Větrné mlýny, 2003.

―Sasquatch.‖ Merriam-Webster.com. Merriam-Webster, 2012. Web. March 8, 2012.

Sedaris, David. Interview. Louisville Courier-Journal: June 5, 2005.

Trivedi, Harish. ―Translating Culture vs. Cultural Translation.‖ The 91st Meridian, May

2005, U of Iowa. Web. 4 Nov 2011.

―The Oka Crisis‖. The Historica Foundation of Canada. 2012. Web. 20 March, 2012.

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Tymoczko, Maria. Enlarging Translation, Empowering Translators. Manchester: St.

Jerome Publishing, 2007.

Vanderziel, Jeffrey Alan. ―Úvod.― Vinnetou tady nebydlí: Antologie současných povídek

severoamerických indiánů. Brno: Větrné mlýny, 2003.

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9 Summary

The thesis addresses the topic of translating Native Canadian culture into Czech. Firstly, it discusses some general issues of transfer of meaning across cultures, especially concerning the vagueness of the terms ―culture‖ and ―meaning‖. With focus on issues of

Native Canadian culture, the thesis explores the holistic approach to translating culture, as suggested by Maria Tymoczko, which emphasizes that for defining a translation strategy and choosing specific translation solutions, a detailed analysis of the role of culture in the given piece of literature is a necessary step. The thesis also compares possible ways of mediating culture, specifically contemporary Native Canadian culture, to a target audience that is probably largely unfamiliar with it.

The discussion of these general issues is followed by an analysis of culture in the novel Monkey Beach by Eden Robinson, a contemporary Haisla writer. The analysis focuses on elements of the Native Canadian culture and other culture related themes which were relevant in the process of translation, and provides the basis for the delineation of the overall strategy concerning translating Haisla culture, as well as for choosing specific translation solutions. The analysis is followed by a sample of the translation which shows these solutions in context and represents a practical outcome of the theoretical discussion of translating culture. The analysis, the discussion of the specific strategy and the translation sample together demonstrate how the holistic approach to translating culture can be applied to a specific piece of writing.

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10 Resumé

Tato diplomová práce se zabývá překladem kanadské indiánské kultury do češtiny.

Věnuje se všeobecně problematice převodu významů napříč kulturami, a to především problémům spojeným s nejasností pojmů „kultura― a „význam―. Zaměřuje se na prvky kanadské indiánské kultury a věnuje se moţnosti uplatnění holistického přístupu k překladu, který navrhuje Maria Tymoczko a který zdůrazňuje, ţe před formulováním strategie pro překlad kultury a zvolením konkrétních překladových řešení je třeba provést důkladnou analýzu role kultury v daném literárním díle. Práce dále srovnává různé moţnosti zprostředkování skutečností souvisejících s výchozí kulturou, v tomto případě kulturou současných kanadských indiánů, cílovému publiku, pro které je toto kulturní prostředí víceméně neznámé.

Součástí diplomové práce je analýza kultury v románu Monkey Beach současné haiselské autorky Eden Robinsonové, zaměřující se na prvky indiánské kultury a další související témata, která bylo při překladu románu třeba zohlednit. Na této analýze je pak zaloţeno vymezení celkové překladové strategie, která byla dále doplněna příklady konkrétních překladových řešení. Následuje kratší ukázka překladu, v níţ lze tato řešení vidět v patřičném kontextu a která je praktickým výstupem teoretické debaty na téma překladu kultury. Analýza, vymezení konkrétní překladové strategie a ukázka překladu ukazují, jak lze holistický přístup k překladu kultury uplatnil v konkrétním literárním díle.

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