Ever since I was small, I've known of the Sami people in Sweden; I have a dim memory of visiting 'Lappstaden', the Sami village in Arvidsjaur. Their colourful clothing and the stunning artistry of their traditional handicrafts make them distinctive and attractive as tourist bait. And even into adulthood, that was really the sum of my knowledge. Then a few years ago in a conversation with my mum, I discovered that the Swedish relationship to Sápmi (the land) and the Sami people had been very similar to other colonising (white) populations' attitudes to indigenous peoples and cultures. Still though, I didn't know much about it until far more recently.
As an adult, now more aware of the difficult history and the discrimination and difficulties Sami people have faced over several centuries, my visit to Lappstaden would be less of a nostalgic trip down memory lane, and more of an awakening. In preparation for my holiday this year, I read as much as I could find online about the oppression and discrimination which Sami have suffered - and indeed still continue to suffer; www.samer.se and www.sametinget.se are good starting points. It's hard to find many books in English which address this - there aren't huge numbers in Swedish, and the proportion which have been translated makes for very low numbers indeed. However, Stolen, a novel by a Sami writer, Ann-Helén Laestadius, is now on my list to buy, as it describes the impact of reindeer killings on the Sami community, and the lack of official response or investigation. Her second novel, Punished, is set in a residential school for sami children; 7-year-olds are taken from their families and forced to attend a school in which their own language and culture is forbidden.
Historically, it has been easy to see Sami as something of a curiosity - their eye-catching and distinctive clothing, and nomadic lifestyle can present a rather romanticised image. And of course, the traditional handicrafts are very attractive to tourists as a souvenir of their holiday. And yet, this is a double-edged sword. Of course it's important for the culture to be visible and appreciated, in order for it to have a chance of survival - but there is a real risk in it being too sanitised or 'Disney-fied' and thus devalued to nothing more than a novelty. Fortunately many Sami communities seem to be successfully finding ways of expoloiting the tourist trade to their advantage: sharing their skills and culture alongside an openness about the discrimination and oppression of the past centuries with a wider audience, leads to greater appreciation and understanding of the richness of their history and traditions.
The Lutheran Church in Sweden formally apologised in 2021 for its role in “legitimized repression” and centuries of “mistreatment and complacency”. The impact of the 'Christianisation' of the Sami was a huge loss of many of the indigenous traditions and much of its religions - although of course some were subsumed into the new faith or maintained alongside it. Historically a nature religion, of course Old Norse and later Christian practices and beliefs modified and influenced religious pracices, and the myths and memories which have been handed down through the oral (and later written) tradition tell of gods and goddesses and their roles. Through the eighteenth century, the Sami were forced to abandon their own rituals and religious objects, as the traditional 'yoik' singing was seen as witchcraft, ceremonial drums were confiscated and burned, and spiritual leaders were threatened or even sentenced to death in order to force compliance with the new religion.
Nowadays, yoik is once again a form of musical and emotional expression which can be performed openly. A yoik is more than a song - it is a representation or memory of a person, place, or thing; it can be used to calm reindeer or keep predators at bay; it can be an identity marker. Since the revitatlisation of yoik in the 1960s it has grown in popularity, and yoikers have experimented with blending it with other genres. Traditionally a yoik doesn't have words, but is vocalised freely; modern versions may well include lyrics as well as vocalisations.
This is just one of the signs that things may finally be starting to improve. It is shockingly recently that there have been signs of change for the better; it's only within my lifetime that the Swedish government have confirmed the status of Sami as an indigenous people in Sweden (1977), and the Sami Parliament has been established (1992). Court cases have been argued over the past 40 years and more to try and ensure Sami rights to land and water, winter grazing, and even the use of language. Only in 2000 was a law passed which gave the right for elderly Sami to receive care and medical treatment in their own language, and children the right to be educated in theirs. Sami Language week will be celebrated in October this year for the fifth year in a row. The aim of the week is to raise awareness of the Sami languages and culture (did you know there is more than one Sami language? I didn't!).
So this time when I visit Lappstaden, I will have a far greater understanding of the context in which it was built (close to the church, so that the Sami people could fulfil the minimum level of attendance as required by law) and the work which is ongoing to bring greater independence and self-determination back to Sami communities.
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