[Second in a series] – 1 2 3 4

It is sensible for people who associate facts with knowledge to use memory technologies such as computers and databases. The relationship between Westernized concepts of the mind and of the computer are fairly clear: we view the computer as an extension of our individual minds. We store phone numbers, documents, videos, photos on our memory technologies so that we may have instant access to them should our human memory need reminding. We generate lists, files, folders, search functions, and so on as ways to organize and access this information. Yet, there is a difference between fact and knowledge, between information and understanding. And there is a difference between how Westernized cultures and most Indigenous cultures view these concepts. Let us use storytelling and oral tradition as a framework for exploration.

Oral historian, William Schneider, tells us that, “Storytelling is a key to relationships, values, and memory” (Schneider, 63). The telling of a story not only suggests the physical presence of a storyteller and an audience, but the relationship that exists between the two, the relationships between members of the audience, the relationship between humans and the land on which they live and in which the action of the story transpires, etc. It is these relationships that are important in the construct of knowledge. Whereas the writer writes for a hypothetical future audience disassociated from physical place, “the world evidenced by the audible text, considered in its entirety, includes not only the world projected by the story proper but the world of the performer and audience” (Tedlock 1983, 10). The Western information bias that sees story as text would dictate that an audio and video recording device would be sufficient to capture the telling of a story. That recording, once digitized, could easily be indexed and catalogued for use in an aural database. But in doing so, the essential components of relationship are stripped from the process.

This manner of recording runs against a fundamental aspect of Indigenous tradition – that of repetition. As a performance, the telling of a story interacts with prior tellings remembered by the audience and is infused with embellishments and improvisations that are in tune with the relationships established during the performance. Tellings of a story are not rendered identically. Unlike texts, which are identified by versions and variations of an original copy, stories are dynamic. There is no “original” story – only the tellings which have come before and those which will be told after. As a product of memory, shared orally, the first telling of a story is simply a shadow – an indicator of form and content, not a guide set in stone:

“Thus, memories are created by repeated reenactments or re-visitations of events, tales, histories, or occurrences. Repetitive storytelling of the past re-creates, solidifies, and even creates the veracity of events and individuals. Continual retelling allows individuals to emphasize certain elements of a history and to magnify and sometimes distort certain passages of one’s life, causing the narratives to become integral components of the teller’s and audience’s life and determining factors in the negotiation of identity” (Green, 30).

Without the tapestry of memory woven through retellings, any recording of an oral performance will be lacking its most salient aspects. The recording will be an empty shell which may do more harm than good as a memory piece: “taking a story so far from its initial or native context that the meaning the original teller and primary audience intended is lost or its portrayal in a new setting embarrasses or exposes them in an uncomfortable way” (Schneider, 137). To fully understand the meaning of a story, “we must hear it many times and place it within the context of other stories and other types of information” (Schneider, 25).

Storytelling and oral tradition are not simply about the transfer of knowledge. They involve the negotiation of knowledge. This process entails not only the art of constructing meaning, but also the subtle art of forgetting. Schneider points out that, “Over time, oral tradition provides a key to what and how people remember, forget, and form new understandings” (54). As storytellers choose the words which will create a backdrop for meaning, they are also choosing which words not to use:

“As a politically charged medium, retelling memories is not a simple chronological recounting of all that transpired, but is the result of a very specific, agenda-based series of choices made by the teller, who manipulates the raw material to create a narrative to serve his or her own purpose. To this end, what is left unsaid is as important as that said. Forgetting or leaving out is just as important” (Green, 51).

Capturing the performance of a story then is not as simple as pressing record on a video camera. How does one use technology to translate the socially negotiated meanings brought to life through relationships and repetition, shaped by both recalling and forgetting? This question calls attention to the shortcomings of present day ICTs in serving as memory technologies for Indigenous peoples. Instead of throwing ICTs out completely, however, we might approach the problem from a different angle. Instead of attempting to bend ICTs to accommodate Indigenous knowledge, we will explore how Indigenous knowledge might dictate new modes of technology. This next section considers how the implementation and design of ICTs might be inspired by past and existing Indigenous memory technologies.