As Nebraska celebrates its 150th year of statehood, the original Nebraskans are fighting to keep their culture alive.
The Umó?ho? Nation could lose a huge piece of their identity if their native language is not passed on to further generations.
Every day people across Nebraska speak the Umó?ho? language without realizing it.
The word “Nebraska” comes from the Umó?ho? word for "broad flat water" and "Omaha" comes from a word that means "going against the current."
You might not be able to understand the language, but it was spoken by 10,000 Umó?ho? Indians in what is now Nebraska and parts of Iowa, Minnesota, Missouri and South Dakota.
Rufus White is one of less than 12 fluent speakers left, all are older than 60.
"We pray to god and we're teaching the children the Omaha language,” White said, speaking in Umó?ho?. “Whatever we teach them, we want to teach them right."
White is one of several language teachers at the K through 12 Umó?ho? Nation School on the reservation, 70 miles north of Omaha.
"Our Indian world is getting smaller and smaller, our native world,” said Cultural Language Teacher Oliver Sauncoci. “We're taking on more of the western world."
If the language goes away, they'll lose an essential piece of their culture, Saunsoci said.
"Our language is what makes us who we are,” he said. “Our language belongs to Umo?ho?. We're the ones who speak Umo?ho?."
For Saunsoci, it’s hard to imagine life without fluent speakers.
"It's scary,” he said. “It's disheartening. To even think that our speakers are going to be gone, our language is going to be gone that's what pushes me to want to learn it. If this language is not saved in my generation, then it's my fault. I lost it."
Those who continue to speak the native language have been spending the last 18 years trying to translate it into dictionaries and workbooks.
Those are nearly ready to be published.
"Our language is not going to die,” said Omaha Nation Public School Director Vida Stabler. “I can say that because I know. I've seen the work our community, our speakers, our elder speakers who are no longer with us, I was there, when we put all this work together. I saw it, and this is for our children. This is for the continuation of our culture our language. We will continue."
The language is an option for the school's second language curriculum.
"It's really important because a tree is not a tree without its roots,” said Byson Miller, tribal member. “It's who we are. Everybody has their own individual about themselves. It's truly important to Nebraska because we're the first Nebraskans. It's important to know who you are and where you come from."
While the language exists online and in books, part of the challenge of teaching it is that kids don't often hear it fluently spoken.
"That's the biggest challenge,” Stabler said. “You need to be in an immersive environment in order for language to truly revitalize in a quick way."
Another challenge is getting kids interested in learning the culture.
High school freshman Quentin Dick Jr. has been learning traditional drum, song and dance since as long as he can remember.
He hopes to pass on the culture, like his grandfather Rufus White is doing now.
"One day our elders are going to be gone,” Dick Jr. said. “I don't want to be the one saying, 'man, I wish I learned this when elders were still around.' I try to pick it up."
The school’s website has resources to learn the language.
As Nebraska celebrates its 150th year of statehood, the original Nebraskans are fighting to keep their culture alive.
The Umó?ho? Nation could lose a huge piece of their identity if their native language is not passed on to further generations.
Every day people across Nebraska speak the Umó?ho? language without realizing it.
The word “Nebraska” comes from the Umó?ho? word for "broad flat water" and "Omaha" comes from a word that means "going against the current."
You might not be able to understand the language, but it was spoken by 10,000 Umó?ho? Indians in what is now Nebraska and parts of Iowa, Minnesota, Missouri and South Dakota.
Rufus White is one of less than 12 fluent speakers left, all are older than 60.
"We pray to god and we're teaching the children the Omaha language,” White said, speaking in Umó?ho?. “Whatever we teach them, we want to teach them right."
White is one of several language teachers at the K through 12 Umó?ho? Nation School on the reservation, 70 miles north of Omaha.
"Our Indian world is getting smaller and smaller, our native world,” said Cultural Language Teacher Oliver Sauncoci. “We're taking on more of the western world."
If the language goes away, they'll lose an essential piece of their culture, Saunsoci said.
"Our language is what makes us who we are,” he said. “Our language belongs to Umo?ho?. We're the ones who speak Umo?ho?."
For Saunsoci, it’s hard to imagine life without fluent speakers.
"It's scary,” he said. “It's disheartening. To even think that our speakers are going to be gone, our language is going to be gone that's what pushes me to want to learn it. If this language is not saved in my generation, then it's my fault. I lost it."
Those who continue to speak the native language have been spending the last 18 years trying to translate it into dictionaries and workbooks.
Those are nearly ready to be published.
"Our language is not going to die,” said Omaha Nation Public School Director Vida Stabler. “I can say that because I know. I've seen the work our community, our speakers, our elder speakers who are no longer with us, I was there, when we put all this work together. I saw it, and this is for our children. This is for the continuation of our culture our language. We will continue."
The language is an option for the school's second language curriculum.
"It's really important because a tree is not a tree without its roots,” said Byson Miller, tribal member. “It's who we are. Everybody has their own individual about themselves. It's truly important to Nebraska because we're the first Nebraskans. It's important to know who you are and where you come from."
While the language exists online and in books, part of the challenge of teaching it is that kids don't often hear it fluently spoken.
"That's the biggest challenge,” Stabler said. “You need to be in an immersive environment in order for language to truly revitalize in a quick way."
Another challenge is getting kids interested in learning the culture.
High school freshman Quentin Dick Jr. has been learning traditional drum, song and dance since as long as he can remember.
He hopes to pass on the culture, like his grandfather Rufus White is doing now.
"One day our elders are going to be gone,” Dick Jr. said. “I don't want to be the one saying, 'man, I wish I learned this when elders were still around.' I try to pick it up."
The school’s website has resources to learn the language.
