Mystery Dances

On more than one occasion, I volunteered to make breakfast for our "party of 18." Husband usually is in charge of breakfast at our house, so I don't usually get to try my hand at pancakes and waffles. I've gotta tell you, it was really fun making that many pancakes in one skillet over a camp stove. What I always noticed was the polite appreciation always given to the cooks. It did make us feel good.

As our guide, Stevie is charged with schooling us on the history, traditions, and ways of the people who inhabited Point Hope. Many mornings during breakfast while we all chowed down, Stevie would share his knowledge. He told us of two traditional dances, unique to Point Hope that have a curious history. He explained the dances in detail, but I can't share them with you, for it is bad luck to do so. The dances can only be performed and/or described in the village of Point Hope. I don't try to explain how the spirit in the dances knows, but the consequences of breaking with this tradition have been disastrous.

As the story goes, during Kiviiq a few years ago, Point Hopers performed one of the dances during the festival, in Barrow. This was against the advice and counsel of the elders. That year, no whales were caught in the village. In fact, the ice stayed onshore longer than usual and in one blustery day blew off the coast and didn't return. (The ice is integral to the hunt as it provides a surface upon which the hunters set up base camp for hunting.) No seals or walrus were caught either...no ice=no animals. Nowhere for them to alight, or hang out during their migratory swims. Compounding the lack of hunting, was the lack of gathering. That year there were no berries to pick, either.

Just in 2008, another incident occurred that served as a reminder to keep the traditional songs and dances within the village. A well-known photographer was contacted by one of the elders and asked to document the traditional songs and dances (the two in particular that I've been writing about). The elder was afraid too few Point Hopers would remember and/or carry on the dances once he and his cohorts were no longer alive. The photographer showed up and did as he was asked. Everywhere he went, people scolded him and told him documenting the dances was not allowed.
However, he did as he was consigned to do...not making any new friends along the way, I might add. Part of the deal, according to Stevie, was for the documentation to reside in Point Hope as archives...at the library and at the qualgi (gathering house). Apparently the photographer misunderstood that directive.

Two weeks before whale season was to begin, an article describing the dances in detail accompanied by pictures appeared in the regional paper. Point Hopers were devastated and felt betrayed, but that wasn't the worst of the offense.

As whale season began, the villagers were again reminded of the power of the spirit of those two traditional dances. Days and weeks passed without a single bowhead whale catch. At one point, a lone hunter did manage to catch 3 belugas. Since he was by himself, he secured the whales by the ice and went to get help. When he returned, the whales were gone. That spring, no other whales were caught, no seal, no walrus, and no berries to pick...AGAIN! So, you can see why the Point Hopers take this stand against performing or describing their traditional dances outside of the village very seriously. I also take it seriously, so I'm sorry I can't provide the details to you, but I can say they are intricate and special dances and I hope someday to go to Point Hope during the Christmas festivities to see them performed.

Chow Time!

 Often, in the morning, I was the second or third one up and about. Hanko was always first up and always (bless him) had a pot of coffee made. Uvlaalluataq (good morning) he would greet me as I walked into the kitchen tent (which is where he and our other guide slept). On our second morning he pointed out the ring around the sun, what I know as a sun dog. "It's going to get windy today", he said. "That's what that means. Also if you see a mirage of mountains above the mountains, it also means it will get windy". This may not be how you normally get your weather predictions, but I learned Hanko's methods were more reliable than the weather service!

The first two days we camped, the weather was nice, prompting the morning greeting of "aarigaa sila" [it's very good weather]. We had Stevie's young daughter (aged 9) with us at camp for several days and she seemed fascinated with the bugs and spiders she was trying to oust from the kitchen tent. On our third night there, she killed a spider. Stevie told her she shouldn't kill the spiders because that would bring rain. Hmm, I'd never heard that one before (must live a sheltered life as many of my fellow campers had heard of it). That night the pitter patter of raindrops could be heard on our tents. The next day it poured! I donned full rain gear and vowed never to kill another spider (at least while out camping).

I had to laugh as we had spam and eggs for breakfast on our first day camping. I laugh only because Spam is the butt of many jokes here in Alaska. I must say, it tasted particularly good that day. Everything tastes better when you are camping...it's a good thing, as we tasted many different things while on our trip.

That brings me to the polar bear. First I should remind you that we are camping in the middle of two bodies of water. We could hear a fair amount of gunshots as natchiq (hair seal) and ugruk (bearded seal) were spotted. The hunters were intent on catching as many as they could since Qagruk (the celebration of the whales caught in the Spring) was just days away and the community needed to be fed. Naturally, all this catching of seals also attracted polar bears. One morning we heard one had been caught as it was swimming to shore. I was thankful to that hunter as I've never been particularly anxious to have my first encounter with a polar bear.

That night, I had my first taste of polar bear meat. (Our instructor had been to town visiting friends and relatives and was gifted with some meat from the bear that was caught). Yes, I was a little hesitant, but how do you know what it's like if you don't try, and try I did. It does not taste like chicken! It tastes like red meat with a hint of sea food flavor...just a hint. I actually thought it was quite tasty. It's very tender. I later found out the meat has to be cooked for at least two hours to avoid trichinosis. In fact, one can die from eating even the very smallest bit of the polar bear liver.

Lest we think it is an easy feat to catch a polar bear, consider the following:

An Eskimo hunter once saw a polar bear far off across flat ice, where he couldnít stalk it without being seen.  But he knew an old technique of mimicking a seal.  He lay down in plain sight, conspicuous in his dark parka and pants, then lifted and dropped his head like a seal, scratched the ice and imitated flippers with his hands. The bear mistook his pursuer for prey. Each time the hunter lifted his head the animal kept still; whenever the hunter was still, the bear crept closer. When it came near enough, a gunshot pierced the snowy silence. That night, polar bear meat was shared among the villagers. 
 
A traditional hunter plumbs the depth of his intellect - his capacity to manipulate complex knowledge.  But he also delves into his animal nature, drawing from intuitions of sense and body and heart; feeling the winds touch, listening for the tick of moving ice, peering from crannies, hiding himself as if he were the hunted. He moves in a world of eyes, where everything watches - the bear, the seal, the wind, the moon and stars, the drifting ice, the silent waters below. He is beholden to powers greater than his own.
(excerpted from www.alaskanativescience.org)

Henry, Stevie, Spot, et al

We are a group of about 15 campers. We have four guides who are local Point Hope residents and two of the students are also from this village. We meet them and a couple of the other campers when we get off of our small plane. 

Oh, and I can't forget to mention Spot. Named after the dog in the famous "Dick and Jane" series (if you remember reading those stories, congratulations, you are eligible for AARP membership!), Spot belongs to one of our guides and takes up residence at the camp to be our watchdog. He's supposed to warn us if any bears are in the area. Well, we didn't see any bears while we camped, so I'd say he did a great job. He also served as our garbage disposal for food that wasn't devoured by the campers. Spot and I became good friends, I figured it would be a good thing to be friends with him in case I fell in a well or something...shades of Timmy and Lassie.
We are quite lucky. We get to camp at the old village site. I was told no group had previously been allowed to camp out there. Our tents are pitched quite close to the sod house that was the most recently occupied (in the 70s). When I was here in October we walked through it, but it's now May and there is still snow in the front.  There are lots of sod house remains in our village, as well as many wood houses. The village site had to be abandoned in the 70s due to erosion.  
[This is basically a spit, surrounded by the Chuckchi Sea on one side and the Arctic Ocean on the other. The wind and the wave action over thousands of years have reduce the size of the land significantly.]

Stevie

Oh the stories we hear about living here! Our guides all grew up here, so stealing a moment alone with any one of them, you get a glimpse into what life was like for them as children. For instance, electricity was introduced not long before they had to move the inhabitants. They didn't have 24 hour access, however. It was on from 9 in the morning until 9 at night. Outside of those hours, they used seal oil lamps (just like their ancestors) and kerosene lamps. Wow, I didn't ever imagine there would be a limit on use of electricity. I never had that limitation in my life! Must have required some planning to get all the "light-required" chores done prior to the lights out siren that sounded every evening at 9.


Everyone had dog teams in those days. Hunters used dog teams and sleds for transportation. Henry and Stevie (two of our guides) had to care for the family dogs. Stevie talks about caring for more than 30 dogs at once. Think about feeding, watering, not to mention picking up after all of those dogs! I bet it was quite cacophonous in the village in those days. I can just imagine the conversations those dogs had with one another.

"Hanko"

Henry talks about getting the sled ready for his Aapa (grandfather) before Aapa went out hunting and how he took care of it when he returned. This meant hooking up the dogs to the sled, supplying the sled with essential items, and making sure all was in working order. He had to care for the dogs upon return, unload the sled, and put everything away. There is still longing in his voice as he tells me how much he wanted to go out hunting, too. He wasn't allowed to go, yet. He had to wait until he was ready. He says this is what really taught him patience. This also helps the youngsters earn their spots as hunters. As we learned later on, the whaling crews are comprised of men who have earned their way through many seasons of watching/protecting the base site, bringing beverages and food to the hunting crew, and other assorted apprentice jobs...until they are ready to move up in the ranks. The hunter is schooled and his skills are learned by observing seasoned hunters. They don't just hop on the umiaq or four wheeler and get to go hunting without a lot of preparation.

Henry learned how to hunt from his uncle. This is common practice. His Aapa told him he had to learn from his uncle because Aapa would be too lenient with him. Now, that I think about that, what a wise practice. Of course it would be hard for Aapa to have the discipline to teach his grandson the right way to do things. He would want to be gentle and kind because of the nature of the grandparent relationship.  
The uncle, on the other hand, is in the teacher role. Knowing it's his job, he is careful to cultivate and school a good hunter. Henry relates that his uncle would only tell him something one time, so he had to listen carefully all of the time. This taught him good listening skills as well as the skills to be a good hunter. He learned the skills by watching. Observation, keen observation, is key in acquiring the knowledge and the skills to go from apprentice to hunter. 
As I came to find out, Henry is a very traditional hunter and practices many traditions not commonly in use these days. I could go on and on about Henry (Hanko as he is often called) and I probably will. He showed me most of the practical things I learned during the trip. I was fascinated with his stories and the things that just popped out of his mouth without preamble.

Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda

Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda,  I am here at Camp Tigara...

I've been at summer camp this month. This isn't just any summer camp, mind you. I signed up to experience camp the Iñupiaq way. For me, it's all part of my education...to live and work among the Iñupiaq and learn what makes up their unique way of life.  

  I will digress a little here. We were in Juneau for most of the month of May. We visited friends, worked on the boat, enjoyed the Jazz and Classics Festival. We were treated to some good weather and to some that wasn't so good...in fact, during the first week, I told some people that I hadn't been warm since I'd left Barrow! We were no longer accustomed to the damp and the rain that makes Juneau the beautiful rain forest that it is.  

  Many folks wanted to know what our year in Barrow had been like and if we liked it. I often said it's like living in a foreign country...we are in the minority, there is a definite change in culture, and we don't speak the indigenous language. That's not a bad thing, it's cause for exploration and that is what I've been doing all this year and what I continue to do. When I lived in France in the 70s, I learned everything I could about the way of life of the people and became fluent in the language. This camp experience is a great boost to learning about the ways of the Inupiat, history of the people and the land, and offered a boost in my vocabulary! 

June 7, 2011 

  The journey begins with breakfast at Ilisagvik College with many of our fellow campers. We are going to Point Hope in a few hours and are meeting ahead of time to get an overview and make sure we understand some basics, like bear safety. 

  You are surely aware of the protective nature of mama bears. A mama bear, protecting her young is even fearsome to a male bear! So, if you ladies come across a polar bear unexpectedly, pull up your shirt and flash the bear! Yes, seriously! 

The bear will think you're a fierce mama bear, and as the story goes, the bear will go away. Of course you men are out of luck, it only works if you have some proof of gender...so to speak. 

  This is one of my favorite tools in the arsenal I am gathering. They made sure we knew about bear safety, because we're going to Point Hope during hunting season...polar bears, especially, are not an uncommon sight. Were they pulling our collective legs? Hmm...maybe. What I do know is that every Inupiaq woman with whom I spoke about this knew this strategy. I never came across anyone who had used it, and I am pleased to say I did not have to test out the veracity of this story!

Blogged Down Outside of Barrow

New posts have been noticeably absent, I know. It began on May 1, when Husband and I took  much-needed personal leave and vacation. 

It has been a whirlwind of travel. Since May 1, I've been (chronologically) to Anchorage, Juneau, Anchorage, Green Valley, Anchorage, Barrow, Point Hope, Barrow, Portland, and finally back to Barrow; the last trip was business, and I will be flying to NY next week. 

Amidst all of those trips, we also moved from our much-loved location and view of the ocean to a new abode (because the owner wanted to resume living there himself...go figure).

Though I've not had a chance to post my adventures, I have been writing about them. The next series I'll be posting will be all about the Culture Camp I attended in Point Hope, AK. This was a truly amazing experience (I took 529 photos in 10 days). Can't wait to tell you all about it!

Just before I do that, though, I've just got to say how rejuvenating it was to be out and about in Alaska and other parts, but how nice it was to come home, as well. 

Okay, so our home wasn't to be ours for long, because we moved within a span of two weeks, but it was nice to finally settle back into our own beds, and other comforts...in order to pack them all up and live out of boxes for the next few weeks. Never a dull moment here. I had a little déjà vu as I moved one more time for the 5th time in 4 years. I only get to repeat this picture because I used the same boxes I did for the move up here. If it's one thing I've learned in the past 4 years, save all of those moving boxes and always have tape and bubble wrap on hand!

Spring, When Iñupiat Fancy Turns to…

Long time since I wrote of our adventures. It’s been a busy few weeks. It’s spring here in Barrow, which doesn’t mean spring flowers, or even temperatures above freezing. Nor is the snow off of the ground or the ice completely melted from the Ocean.

It does, however, mean whaling season is in full swing. The preparations are intense as crews go out on the ice to break trails to the leads—the open water. Crew members across the street from our house come and go to fill up snowmachines with gas from the 55 gallon drums in front of the whaling captain’s house.

 

Spring festival was held over the weekend on a couple of sunny, yet blustery days. The festival includes, among other things, a series of competitions. Being a newcomer, I didn’t at first understand why there was a “field” plowed out of the snow with a road around it. Now I get it, having gone out to watch the various games.

It was a relatively warm 10 ℉, but the wind was pretty brisk all weekend.  That meant parka, plus hat, plus hood, plus snow boots, plus snow pants attire. Because we were taking pictures, we got out of the car to get closer to the action. But, as you’ll see in the pictures, the protocol is to sit in the car (with the engine/heater running) to watch the games. Also, what you won’t get from the pictures is the cacophony of horns honking when a crew wins a competition.

All of the competitions seem to have connections to the skills needed as members of the whaling crews. Some were pretty obvious, like the harpoon throw. These guys were really fun to watch. The techniques were all different. Some were better than others. I really loved the target, but I loved the follow through of the throwers the most. That is a very heavy harpoon, and you wouldn’t want to throw it more than once…plus it’s too cold to go through several “heats” to get to finals. In these competitions, it’s one shot and you either win, or you don’t.

I’m pretty sure this one isn’t a traditional race, nor must it have anything to do with whaling skills. However, as I’ve noted before, the Iñupiaq do have a sense of humor and a playful spirit, so holding a buoy race on the ice doesn’t seem at all out of character! It really looked like fun, but I know it was darned cold out there.

The umiaq race is clearly practice for what lies ahead as crews pull the arctic sleds across the field, lift the umiaq onto the sled, then pull the sled and umiaq to the finish line. These boats are not light, nor are the sleds (which are usually pulled with snow machines, these days). This was really hard work for these guys; also required lots of teamwork and determination.

 

Check out the competition to boil water from snow. First the team scoops snow into the pot. Then, they run back and light the stove (no easy feat, even with a lighter in the brisk winds that day). Then, they sit and wait for the water to boil...and we all know what they say about a watched pot and boiling water! Some teams came prepared to wait with their fox furs to kneel on. Finally, the payoff is for these three ladies who get to drink the tea brewed by the winning team!

Ugruk, and Aiviq, and Bears, OH MY!

The Arctic version of the famous Wizard of OZ chant...here we have seals, and walrus, and bears...OH MY! We haven't seen any bears up close and personal, and for that I am eternally grateful.

We have heard a couple of good stories, though. One gal recounts going out to help her whaling crew work by the gravel pit (whaling crews are currently breaking ice and setting up snow blinds to prepare for the hunt).  She and her friend arrived just after the crew had encountered Nanuq (polar bear). The story is that when the bear walked into the camp, all of the guns were on a snow machine, basically out of reach.

Smart Nanuq!! The co-captain of the crew screwed up enough courage to reach a gun and shoot into the air to scare the bear...which worked. Close call, no one was hurt. I imagine none of those fellas will ever make that mistake again!

The sun has been up very late at night this month. It was light out until 10:00 p.m. last night! There are more smiling faces on folks in town and increasing anticipation of warmer weather...not to mention the whine of snowmachines well into the night! We were so fortunate to be able to capture this video of our dear Fannie Okpik teaching a class this weekend. This dance is all about the sun coming back. Other dances we saw her teach told equally enchanting stories.  

 

I really loved the story of the old woman going to a dance. She arrives at the venue with a bent neck, arthritic knees, and bent back. The minute she hears the music, her neck becomes strong, the pain in her knees goes away, AND her bent back becomes straight.The music transforms her and she dances the night away!

Moral of the story? More dancing for everyone!