WIA LANGUAGES PROJECT

[Day 16/221]

Mi’kmawi’simk

Mi’kmaq Language | The Language of My Friends

“It’s not dying, it’s slowly coming back”

A quiet revolution, 221 languages’ digital archive • We’re not saving languages.
Started by one, completed by all
Be a witness to this history

Introduction – A Name Whispered by the Atlantic

Every 14 days, a language falls silent forever. But today, we meet a language that refused to be silenced. From the Atlantic coast of Canada comes a voice that has echoed for over a millennium: Mi’kmaq [MIG-mah].

The word Mi’kmaq means “my friends”—a plural form of mi’km. The singular refers to one friend, but the people always speak in plural, for community defines their identity. This name itself encapsulates how they view the world: every being is a friend, every life is connected. This is the cosmology the Mi’kmaq people have preserved for thousands of years.

Mi’kmawi’simk—the language’s native name—translates to “the language of the Mi’kmaq people.” Some dialects call it Lnuismk or Mi’kmwei. But regardless of the name, this language carries within it a unique window to understanding the universe, one that humanity cannot afford to lose.

History – Ten Thousand Years of Echo, Centuries of Silence

The Mi’kmaq people have inhabited the Atlantic coast for over 10,000 years—archaeological evidence confirms their continuous presence since the last Ice Age. Their traditional territory, called Mi’kma’ki, encompasses what are now Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, the Gaspé Peninsula of Quebec, and parts of Maine. Their language was as much a part of this landscape as the ocean waves and forest winds.

Mi’kmaq belongs to the Eastern Algonquian branch of the Algic language family—one of the most widespread language families in North America. This family once stretched from a small portion of California across Central Canada, through the Midwestern United States, to the northeastern Atlantic coast. Mi’kmaq is closely related to Malecite-Passamaquoddy, Massachusett, and Munsee, and shares ancestry with now-silent languages like Abenaki and Unami.

Understanding this linguistic geography matters. When we lose Mi’kmaq, we lose not just one language but a crucial piece of the entire Algonquian linguistic puzzle—a perspective on how humans developed language across an entire continent.

The 1600s brought European settlers to Mi’kmaq shores. Unlike many Indigenous groups who faced immediate violence, the Mi’kmaq initially maintained relatively peaceful relations with newcomers. Beginning in 1610, over seventy years, many Mi’kmaq converted to Roman Catholicism and signed treaties with the British Crown. They sought coexistence, adaptation, cultural diplomacy.

But the price of “civilization” was devastating. The deepest wound came from the Canadian Indian Residential School System—a government-sponsored program of cultural genocide that operated from the 1870s through the 1990s. Indigenous children were forcibly separated from their families and sent to boarding schools where speaking their native language meant punishment. The stated goal was explicit: “Kill the Indian, save the man.”

Mona Francis, now a Mi’kmaq language teacher, remembers her fourth-grade teacher telling her class: “You Indians are nothing but a bunch of dogs.” That sentence haunted her for decades. Thousands of children suffered physical and mental abuse, emerged unable to speak their mother tongue, disconnected from their cultural identity. The trauma reverberates through generations still.

By 1970, only 6,000 native Mi’kmaq speakers remained. The language appeared to be dying. Elders held the fluency, but children grew up speaking English or French. An entire generation faced the possibility of being the last to hear their ancestral language spoken fluently.

But the Mi’kmaq people refused to surrender.

Present – The Song of Revival

“It’s not dying, it’s slowly coming back.” These words, spoken by a young Mi’kmaq from Elsipogtog First Nation in 2024, capture the remarkable transformation underway. And the statistics prove it.

By 2021, Mi’kmaq speakers numbered 8,195—a 5.9% increase from 2016. Currently, approximately 11,000 people speak Mi’kmaq across Canada and the United States, making it the most widely spoken Indigenous language among First Nations people in Atlantic Canada. The total ethnic Mi’kmaq population stands at roughly 20,000, meaning more than half maintain some connection to their ancestral language.

What enabled this miracle? People who refused to give up. Mona Francis, who suffered through residential school’s forced English education, never forgot her language. Now she teaches Mi’kmaq online to students across multiple high schools. Teagan Copage, an Elsipogtog band councillor, was among the last full speakers of his generation. “Struggling with English, living in a white man’s world,” he recalls. Yet he now stands at the forefront of language revival efforts.

The year 2025 marked a turning point in Mi’kmaq language history. In March, the Nova Scotia government announced the Mi’kmaw Language ReVITALization Strategy—a collaborative plan with Mi’kmaw Kina’matnewey providing $1.3 million annually for language revitalization initiatives. In February, the Canadian federal government pledged $7.1 million over five years to support Mi’kmaw language programs.

These aren’t just numbers. This is a government formally acknowledging its role in nearly destroying an Indigenous language and committing resources to repair that damage. It’s reconciliation translated into action.

Language Jewels – A Different Window to the World

Wenju’su’n [wen-JOO-soon] – Apple

Deconstruct this word and a fascinating story unfolds. “Wenuj” means “French person,” while “su’n” means “cranberry.” Therefore, an apple is literally a “French person’s cranberry.” Within this single word lies colonial history, cultural contact, and Mi’kmaq wisdom—accepting the new while naming it in their own terms, acknowledging origin while claiming understanding.

This linguistic creativity appears throughout Mi’kmaq. Their word for “caribou” (kaleboo) gave Canadian French its caribou, which then entered English. Their word thapaken became the Canadian French tabagane, which gave English the word toboggan. Languages in contact create each other; none exists in isolation.

Nmituk msit koqoey [nuh-MEE-took um-SEET koh-koh-AY] – All my relations

English translates this as “all my relations,” but the meaning extends far deeper. People, animals, plants, rocks, rivers, winds—all are relations. This expression contains ecological wisdom and cosmic interconnectedness. Every being is sacred; all life interconnects. This isn’t poetry—it’s epistemology, a fundamental way of knowing the world that Western philosophy has only recently begun to rediscover through systems thinking and ecology.

Wela’lin [way-LAH-lin] – Thank you

This isn’t mere gratitude. The word carries deep acknowledgment: “Your existence and actions are meaningful to me and our community.” Mi’kmaq grandmothers teach children to say this even at ice cream shops—practicing recognition that every interaction, every service, every kindness matters. Gratitude becomes a practice of community building.

WIA’s Promise – Digital Eternity

WIA doesn’t simply translate. We create digital permanence for Mi’kmaq.

The Mi’kmaq community has already accomplished remarkable work. The Mi’kmaq Online Talking Dictionary contains 6,972 headwords, with each word recorded by a minimum of three speakers. This isn’t merely a dictionary—it’s a living audio archive of the language, capturing pronunciation variations and authentic speech patterns. Multiple speakers reveal how the same word sounds different in different mouths, teaching learners the living variability of actual language use.

Cape Breton University’s Unamaꞌki College specializes in Mi’kmaq history, culture, and education. As of 2013, it serves some 250 Aboriginal students—a number that continues growing. Wagmatcook operates immersion schools where children spend entire days learning, playing, and dreaming in Mi’kmaq, becoming fluent while still acquiring English.

“Parents come to me and say they hear their children in the backseat of the car speaking Mi’kmaq and they’re excited,” reports a Mi’kmaq language instructor at Lnu Siꞌpuk Kinaꞌmuokuom Mi’kmaq school in Indian Brook. This is success—not just classroom learning but living language use, children choosing to speak Mi’kmaq among themselves.

WIA extends these efforts into digital eternity. Every voice recording, every lesson material, every children’s book, every song preserved in permanently accessible form. Future linguists, descendants, and anyone worldwide wanting to learn Mi’kmaq can access this treasure. The technology exists; the will exists; the community exists. Now we create the infrastructure for permanence.

Cultural Heartbeat – #SpeakMikmaq

In 2021, Emma Stevens from Eskasoni First Nation recorded a Mi’kmaq cover of the Beatles’ “Blackbird.” The song became an anthem for language revival. Like the blackbird singing in darkness, Mi’kmaq endured silence and now sings again.

Savvy Simon launched the #SpeakMikmaq language revolution. Granddaughter of residential school survivor Sarah Simon—her greatest language inspiration—she spoke at TEDxHalifax, was named one of Canada’s Top 40 Female Changemakers, and created language videos and materials now used in universities, high schools, and textbooks. She was recently featured in the book “Amazing L’nu’k” for keeping Mi’kmaw alive.

Her philosophy is direct: “Language is more than words—it is the soul of a people, a bridge to our ancestors, and the key to cultural survival.” In her classroom, every student becomes a language carrier. People from various ethnicities unite to fulfill an ancestral vision: making Mi’kmaw a main language and removing its endangered status.

She describes teaching Mi’kmaq as her cultural responsibility: “I teach so that future generations will never know a world where our language is not spoken. I teach so that our stories will continue, our songs will be sung, and our people will remain strong in who they are.”

The Korean Connection – A Mirror Across the Pacific

The story of Mi’kmaq revival mirrors another language’s resurrection—one from across the Pacific Ocean. Korean faced similar existential threats under Japanese colonial rule (1910-1945), when the colonizers banned Korean language education and forced name changes. Yet Korean not only survived but thrives globally today, carried worldwide by K-pop and K-drama.

How did Korean succeed? The same elements now supporting Mi’kmaq: dedicated scholars who digitally documented the language before it was too late, government support for language education, immersion programs for children, and eventually, cultural products that made the language attractive to young people.

The lesson is clear: endangered languages can not only survive but flourish with proper support, digital preservation, and cultural relevance. What Korea accomplished over decades, modern technology allows us to achieve faster. Mi’kmaq has all the necessary ingredients: committed speakers, government funding, educational programs, and now—digital permanence.

Future – With All Our Relations

In 2022, the Mi’kmaw Language Act became law in Nova Scotia—a historic moment recognizing Mi’kmaq as the province’s first language. “Language is the lifeblood of the Mi’kmaw people,” stated Minister Leah Martin. The Act wasn’t symbolic; it mandated concrete actions and funding.

Mi’kmaw Kina’matnewey coordinates language programs for all 13 First Nations communities in Nova Scotia. Their initiatives include infant immersion programs, after-school language classes, language camps, and adult immersion courses. Most importantly: digitizing and permanently preserving all materials.

The National Research Council of Canada’s Indigenous languages technology project includes Mi’kmaw among over 25 Indigenous languages receiving technological support. They’re developing dictionary tools, linguistic atlases, and learning resources—all open-source, all accessible.

In 221 days, when Mi’kmaq and all other languages rest safely in digital archives, we will finally possess a complete record of human linguistic diversity. This quiet journey begun by a few will touch millions of hearts and create permanent change.

The Mi’kmaq people say: “Nmituk msit koqoey”—all my relations. Their relations now extend globally. All of us, connected digitally, become relations protecting their language. We become part of their circle, they become part of ours. This is how languages survive—not in isolation but in connection, not through force but through love, not by one people alone but by humanity together.

Closing – A Blessing Among Relations

221 languages. 221 days.
Today, Mi’kmaq’s voice resonates in your heart.

With WIA, every voice becomes eternal

📅 Tomorrow’s Miracle

Day 17/221: Hawaiian (ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi)
The soul of the Pacific dances digitally with hula

📰 Language Revolution with The Korean Today

The Korean Today, maintaining neutrality for 12 years,
shares this journey with the world in 48 languages.

Today’s articles become tomorrow’s history.
Media and technology unite to save languages.

Visit The Korean Today Global →

WIA Languages Project

Connecting the world through 221 languages
A quiet revolution, humanity’s digital archive

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Day 16/221: Mi’kmaq
“Quietly, unwaveringly, one step at a time”

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