Thursday, September 30, 2004
The Legend of the Giant
“In the land of the Inukjuangmiut there once lived a giant who captured an Inuit hunter and carried him off inland
on his back. It was a long journey and the hunter contrived by various means to tire his captor so that the time
came when the giant was forced to lie down and rest. Once he was asleep, the hunter saw his chance, hacked
off the giant's head and made his escape.
But the giant's wife gave chase and caught up with the hunter. When she struck out at him he dodged behind
a rock and her blow smote the rock, splitting it in two. From the crack poured a mighty torrent of water that soon
formed a river. The woman, exhausted from the chase, stopped to drink from it and drank so much that she burst.
Thus did the Inuit hunter overcome his enemies and return to his family.
The river, which flows to this day, is called Inukjuak – the Giant. The settlement at it's mouth takes the same name
and those who live there are known as Inukjuangmiut – the People of the Inukjuak”.
Sunday, September 26, 2004
The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part L
Native American Recipe
Boiled Salmon-Guts
Mestag.ilaku
After the woman has cut open the silver-salmon caught by her husband by trolling, she squeezes out the food that is in the stomach, and the slime that is on the gills. She turns the stomach inside out; and when she has cleaned many, she takes a kettle and pours water into it.
When the kettle is half full of water, she puts the stomach of the silver-salmon into it. After they are all in she puts the kettle on the fire; and when it is on the fire, she takes her tongs and stirs them. When (the contents) begin to boil, she stops stirring. The reason for stirring is to make the stomachs hard before the water gets too hot; for if they do not stir them, they remain soft and tough, and are not hard. Then the woman always takes up one of (the stomachs) with the tongs; and when she can hold it in the tongs, it is done; but when it is slippery, it is not done.
(When it is done,) she takes off the fire what she is cooking. It is said that if, in cooking it, it stays on the fire too long, it gets slippery. Then she will pour it away outside of the house, for it is not good if it is that way.
If it should be eaten when it is boiled too long, (those who eat it) could keep it only a short time. They would vomit. Therefore they watch it carefully. When it is done, the woman takes her dishes and her spoons, and she puts them down at the place where she is seated; but her husband invites whomever he wants to invite.
When the guests come in, his wife takes a large ladle and dips the liquid out of the kettle into the dishes. When they are half full of the liquid of what she has been cooking, she takes the tongs and takes out the boiled stomachs and puts them into the dishes. When all the dishes are full, she takes food-mats and spreads them in front of the guests. Finally she takes the dishes and places them in front of the guests. There is one dish for every four guests. Then she gives a spoon to each guest.
Water is never given with this, and they never pour oil on it, for oil does not agree with the boiled stomach; and therefore also they do not drink water before they eat it, for it makes those who eat it thirsty. Then they eat with spoons; and after they have eaten, the host takes the dishes and puts them down at the place where his wife sits.
Then he takes water and gives it to them. Then they rinse their mouths on account of the salty taste, for the boiled stomach is really salt. After rinsing the mouth, they drink some water; and after drinking, they go out of the house.
This finishes what I have to say about the cooking of various kinds of salmon. They never sing when eating steamed salmon-heads or boiled salmon-heads, or when they eat boiled stomachs, for these are eaten quickly when they first go trolling silver-salmon.
The stomach of the dog-salmon is not eaten when it is first caught at the mouth of the river, nor when it is caught on the upper part of the rivers; but they boil the heads when it is caught in the upper part of the river, also those of the humpback-salmon. At last it is finished.
Boiled Salmon-Guts
Mestag.ilaku
After the woman has cut open the silver-salmon caught by her husband by trolling, she squeezes out the food that is in the stomach, and the slime that is on the gills. She turns the stomach inside out; and when she has cleaned many, she takes a kettle and pours water into it.
When the kettle is half full of water, she puts the stomach of the silver-salmon into it. After they are all in she puts the kettle on the fire; and when it is on the fire, she takes her tongs and stirs them. When (the contents) begin to boil, she stops stirring. The reason for stirring is to make the stomachs hard before the water gets too hot; for if they do not stir them, they remain soft and tough, and are not hard. Then the woman always takes up one of (the stomachs) with the tongs; and when she can hold it in the tongs, it is done; but when it is slippery, it is not done.
(When it is done,) she takes off the fire what she is cooking. It is said that if, in cooking it, it stays on the fire too long, it gets slippery. Then she will pour it away outside of the house, for it is not good if it is that way.
If it should be eaten when it is boiled too long, (those who eat it) could keep it only a short time. They would vomit. Therefore they watch it carefully. When it is done, the woman takes her dishes and her spoons, and she puts them down at the place where she is seated; but her husband invites whomever he wants to invite.
When the guests come in, his wife takes a large ladle and dips the liquid out of the kettle into the dishes. When they are half full of the liquid of what she has been cooking, she takes the tongs and takes out the boiled stomachs and puts them into the dishes. When all the dishes are full, she takes food-mats and spreads them in front of the guests. Finally she takes the dishes and places them in front of the guests. There is one dish for every four guests. Then she gives a spoon to each guest.
Water is never given with this, and they never pour oil on it, for oil does not agree with the boiled stomach; and therefore also they do not drink water before they eat it, for it makes those who eat it thirsty. Then they eat with spoons; and after they have eaten, the host takes the dishes and puts them down at the place where his wife sits.
Then he takes water and gives it to them. Then they rinse their mouths on account of the salty taste, for the boiled stomach is really salt. After rinsing the mouth, they drink some water; and after drinking, they go out of the house.
This finishes what I have to say about the cooking of various kinds of salmon. They never sing when eating steamed salmon-heads or boiled salmon-heads, or when they eat boiled stomachs, for these are eaten quickly when they first go trolling silver-salmon.
The stomach of the dog-salmon is not eaten when it is first caught at the mouth of the river, nor when it is caught on the upper part of the rivers; but they boil the heads when it is caught in the upper part of the river, also those of the humpback-salmon. At last it is finished.
The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part K
Still, if cooperation remained an important value for most families in the 1950s and early 60s, the increased geographical mobility of village residents reduced the opportunity for its active expression. In families where traditional subsistence pursuits were regularly followed, expectations regarding labor exchange, borrowing, and sharing continued to be reinforced. Men hunted together and shared their catch. Women assisted each other with baby tending, carrying water, and similar household-related responsibilities. Members of related families helped each other too, constructing, repairing, and painting houses, borrowing another's boat, sled or dogs, and sharing the use of electric generators. However, as more individuals left their communities for seasonal or year-round employment elsewhere, this cooperative pattern became steadily harder to follow.
By the mid-1960s, seasonal migration was evident in all Arctic villages. Men left home for summer jobs as soon as spring seal hunting was over in early June. Many sought jobs in central and southern Alaska, or at one of the numerous military sites scattered throughout the newly-formed State. Often they were hired as common laborers or cannery workers, although a few became skilled carpenters, heavy equipment operators, fire fighters, and mechanics. Those joining a union found summer jobs through the employment office in Fairbanks, thereby enabling them to leave directly for their work site. Working "outside" also brought expections that at least part of the wages would be sent home, an arrangement that was upheld by older married men far more often than by younger single adults.
In other villages like Barrow and Kaktovik, jobs were available locally. But even here, the nature of the work left men inadequate amounts of time to engage in subsistence hunting and fishing. Working a six-day week, few individuals could give more than minimal assistance to others and therefore, could expect little in return. With sufficient cash income to purchase most of their food and other required goods, it might have been possible to share these items with the fulltime hunter in exchange for fresh meat, fish, and other traditional food products. But this modern version of reciprocal exchange was unusual, and the transaction most often occurred through the medium of the village Native store.
Many Inupiat expressed great concern over this turn of events; on the one hand wanting the material advantages of a good cash income, and on the other, disliking the penalty that it seemed to require. As the importance of the extended family continued to decline, further reductions in the traditional patterns of cooperation occurred. Could the expression of this value find another institutional base outside the extended family? Non-kin based institutions carrying the greatest meaning for the majority of adult Inupiat were the Christian churches. Here, members contributed freely of their time and energy in support of numerous religious activities ranging from weekday services and mother's club meetings to summer bible schools. Similar efforts were put into the maintainance of church buildings, missionary residences, and the like. But few thought such collective endeavors could replace the deteriorating cooperative ties linking families and generations together.
The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part J
While these comments reflect an especially strong alienation derived in large part from his acceptance of Euro-American stereotypes learned during his life in the "States," many youths in the 1960s showed lessened regard for old Inupiat ways; and after leaving home, simply ignored the traditional pressures to conform. When their actions disrupted village life, as was the case of individuals who became aggressive after drinking, they might be brought before the village council. But the effectiveness of the council as a deterrent depended largely on the prestige of the councilors, their previous experience, the type of problem brought before them, and the degree of support given by local Whites.
A few village councils such as the one at Point Hope were organized as early as the 1920s when they were encouraged by resident missionaries. But at best they were only nominally effective. The only significant legal authority they had was the ability to file a complaint with the U.S. Marshall. The major impetus for the development of local self-government - Euro-American style - on the North Slope came in the mid-1930s after governmental responsibility for the Inupiat had been placed under the jurisdiction of the Bureau of Indian Affairs; although one or more councils were organized as early as the teens farther south in the Kotzebue area. With the passing of the Indian Reorganization Act [IRA], the Inupiat and other Native Americans were urged to draft village constitutions and bylaws, ratify them by majority vote, and submit them for approval to the U. S. Secretary of the Interior.
By 1960, all Inupiat villages with a population of 100 or more had some form of self-government. Most were organized formally with an elected president, vice-president, secretary, treasurer, and several councilors. They met at regular intervals and took action on such common problems as supervising the operation of Native cooperative stores, spring village cleanup, promoting civic improvements, and making and enforcing local regulations. In every instance, elected officials were Inupiat men.
One difficult problem facing the councilors was that of coordinating community activity, such as village cleanup. Not only did these village leaders have to contend with lack of precedent, but they had to be careful not to identify themselves too closely with White power figures for fear that other village members would conclude they no longer represented Inupiat needs and interests. Leaders who ceased sharing the norms, objectives, and aspirations of the larger group ceased being leaders. Nor could they assume an authoritarian or aggressive stance in their actions for such behavior went directly against traditional Inupiat values.
An illustration of how these factors resulted in the replacement of a village leader at Point Hope is reflected in the efforts to build a community-wide electric power plant. Most local residents were in favor of obtaining a power plant, but they had little knowledge of how to implement such a plan. Nevertheless, with the urging of the council president, arrangements were made and the plant constructed. Problems arose immediately, most of them linked to monthly charges each family had to pay for electricity. Locally designated "bill collectors" refused to press for these payments, at which point the council president, faced with the possibility of backruptcy, aggresssively reminded the villagers of what happens to White Americans who refused to pay their bills. Although the installation of meters eventually resolved the immediate financial problem, this leader lost much of his influence and was not re-elected to the council. Similar problems emerged elsewhere at this time as the primary qualification for election to village councils began shifting from older prestigous community leaders who had the respect of the community to younger, more educated, individuals who had the ability to speak and write good English, but little other knowledge or experience.
But it was in the area of law enforcement that the councils faced their greatest dilemma. Having established regulations against the importation of intoxicating beverages, the members had no way of enforcing their rulings. The same problem occurred with gambling, curfews, and the confinement of dogs. With the exception of Barrow, by 1960, no community had obtained sufficient funds to hire an outside law enforcement officer - and few local local Whites, even if requested, had any interest in becoming involved in such a responsibility.
When an individual disregarded a local regulation, he or she was usually approached by a council member, reminded of the ruling, and told to conform. If the individual persisted, the person was brought before the council and asked to account for the behavior. This practice was most effective with village youths, but was pursued with adults as well. For more serious offenses like minor theft, a combination of council and family pressures would be applied to the offender who was usually a teenager. Before the 1960s, theft was uncommon among the Inupiat, and adults spoke of this misdemeanor with strong feelings of indignation. However, by this time the problem had become of sufficient concern that in most Arctic villages, householders locked their doors on leaving home for any length of time.
The issues which the councilors were the least able to resolve concerned drinking and the curfew. Although liquor was forbidden by local ordinances, the moderate drinkers were seldom criticized as long as they indulged in the quiet of their own homes. Beer and alcohol were obtained by air freight from Fairbanks, through a resident White, or from a friend recently returned from the "outside." Drinking was considered a problem when it resulted in such open hostility as destruction of property, picking a fight, or wife-beating. There were also instances of young Inupiat who under the influence of liquor, killed the lead dog of another hunter, destroyed furniture and other household items, and broke into government buildings for purposes of theft. Generally, under such circumstances, public opinion did not support taking firm sanctions against the offender. This was largely due the Inupiat perception that those who drank were not responsible for their actions - and thus, couldn't be held accountable. That is, "being drunk" was not only an explanation for damaging behavior, it was also a justifiable excuse.
Given this increase in social problems, the Inupiat remained committed to a common set of cooperative standards covering a wide range of behavior, and, with relatively few exceptions, actively conformed to these standards. In the villages, there was no overall sense of lawlessness, no rampant vandalism, delinquency, crime, sexual misconduct, or alcoholism.
The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part I
Traditional Inupiat society has always characterized as having few social institutions beyond the family. Thus, in many respects, settlements and villages represented a community of interest rather than a corporate unit. Since there was no political organization, various social sanctions, customary law, common goals and norms had to provide the essential fabric of settled life. Individuals had great freedom of choice in their actions, but their security lay in cooperating and sharing with one another.
Nonconforming individuals, such as an aggressive bully or persistent womanizer, presented a continual problem in these localities. If nonconformists could not be curbed by the actions of kin or the force of public opinion, the one remaining alternative was to exclude them from participation in the community's economic and social life - a rather effective sanction given the unpredictable conditions of Arctic life. If severe interpersonal conflicts arose between one or more members of different kin groups, the villagers were faced with a serious dilemma, for there was no available technique for resolving feuds once they had begun. It was not until long after the government had assigned U.S. marshals to police this northern area that interfamily feuds resulting in bloodshed disappeared entirely.
As long as Inupiat economic and social security depended on the assistance and support of others, gossip, ridicule, and ostracism was quite effective in ensuring conformity to group norms. Inupiat socialization, emphasizing as it did rapid fulfillment of the child's needs and wants, freedom of action in many spheres, early participation in adult-like responsibilities with appropriate recognition for achievement, and the rejection of violence in any form, also encouraged the formation of a conforming rather than a rebellious personality type. However, this method of social control was considerably weakened when family groups became less cohesive, when greater opportunities for wage labor brought increased economic independence, and when substantial value conflicts began occurring between generations. All these trends had become fully developed by the early 1960s.
Given these changes, it was hardly surprising that traditional mechanisms of social control soon lost much of their effectiveness. One teenager from Barrow summed up this perspective in his comments on the strict curfew in effect at Wainwright in 1961:
When I visited the village, I didn't know about the midnight curfew for young people. I went out until about three in the morning with a local girl. I went out late the next night and on the following day a village council member spoke to me at the post office about the curfew. I told him I was a visitor from Barrow and I shouldn't have to obey the curfew. He said I did, but I kept going out late anyway. Finally, the whole council called me in and told me I could not go out after twelve o'clock anymore, and I said, "This is America, not Russia and I can go out as much as I like." The council didn't like that, but there was nothing they could do. I left soon afterwards, though. That Wainwright is a strict place.
After a similar visit to Kaktovik, this same youth gave further insight into the reasons behind his negative attitude toward the more isolated Inupiat villages:
After living in the States, I can't stand this place for very long. The people here, they don't know what it is like outside. Some of the boys brag about how good they are, but I just keep quiet, laughing inside. They haven't seen anything like I have. And another thing, they don't have any respect for privacy. Why, they just come into your house without being invited and drink your coffee, or anything. The people at Barrow don't do things like that. They have much better manners and aren't so backward.
The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part H
Finally, they came back up and the man saw an igloo along the edge of the ice pack. Then went inside and the man saw another bear with a spear in his haunch. The first bear said, "If you can take that spear out of the bear and make him well, you will become a good hunter." The man broke off the shaft, eased the spear point out of the bear's haunch, and the wound began to heal. Then the first bear took off his bearskin "parka" and became a man. After the wound was healed completely, the bear-man put back on his bearskin "parka," told the poor hunter to climb on his back and close his eyes, and together they went back into the sea. When the bear finally stopped, he asked the man to open his eyes. Looking around, the man realized he had been returned to the spot from which he began his journey. He thought he had only been gone a day, but on arriving home, he found that he had been away a month. From then on, the man was always a good hunter.
In this, as in many other myths, spirits of animals represented the controlling powers. Essentially, the Inupiat perception of the universe was one in which the various supernatural forces were largely hostile toward human beings. By means of ritual and magic, however, the Inupiat could influence the supernatural forces toward a desired end - be it influencing the weather and food supply, ensuring protection against illness, or curing illness when it struck. The power to influence these events came from the use of charms, amnulets, and magical formulas, observance of taboos, and the practice of sorcery.
Although all individuals had access to supernatural power, some were considered to be especially endowed. With proper training, these individuals could become a practicing shaman, or angatqaq. The Inupiat angatqaq was a dominant personality and powerful leader. Due to their great intimacy with the world of the supernatural they were considered particularly well qualified to cure the sick, control the forces of nature, and predict future events. At the same time, they were also believed to have the power to bring illness, either to avenge some actual or imagined wrong, or to profit materially from its subsequent cure.
The Inupiat of this region traditionally saw illness as resulting from one or two major causes: the loss of one's soul or the intrusion of a foreign object. A person's soul could wander away during one's sleep, be taken away by a malevolent shaman, or leave because the individual failed to follow certain restrictions placed on her or him by a shaman or the culture in general. Illness caused by intrusion was usually the work of a hostile shaman, but in either case, an effective cure for a serious illness could only be achieved through the services of a competent Native curer.
Although shamans had extensive powers, lay Inupiat were not without their own sources of supernatural influence. By means of various songs, charms, magical incantations, and even names, individuals could ensure the desired end. The acquisition of these instruments of supernatural power came through inheritance, purchase, or trade, with charms and songs changing hands most easily and often. The major difference between the shaman and the lay Inupiat was the greater degree of supernatural power assumed to be held by the former. The shaman did have one particular advantage, however - access to a tuungaq - or "helping spirit." Similar to the concept of guardian spirit found throughout many Native American groups, the tuungaq was commonly an animal spirit, often a land mammal that could be called upon at any time to assist the shaman. When it was to the shaman's advantage, it was believed that he might turn himself into the animal represented by the spirit.
The influence of the shaman began to decline following the arrival of White whalers who, without regard for the numerous taboos rigidly enforced by the Inupiat shamans, consistently killed large numbers of whales. Native converts to Christianity, holding the bible aloft, also flaunted traditional taboos without suffering, By the early 1960s, shamanism was rarely if ever practiced in northern Alaska. This does not mean, however, that individuals once known to be shamans, or capable of becoming shamans, were ignored. On the contrary, the Inupiat felt quite uneasy about such people.
At this time, the Presbyterian, Catholic, and Episcopal churches on the North Slope had been joined by several new denominations including the Assembly of God in Barrow and Kaktovik and, to a lesser extent, the Evangelical Friends in the area of Point Hope. All of these church groups stressed the efficacy of prayer - that is, the immediate intervention of God in daily affairs. This intervention was usually asked in two major areas: hunting and health. The churches preached that God could heal directly, although the evangelical churches put forward this doctrine more forcefully. Presbyterians, for example, used prayer as a supplement to medicine whereas the Assembly of God members frequently reversed the emphasis. In the Presbyterian church, the minister or congregation as a whole might be asked to pray for an ill member. In the Assembly of God church, any small group of members regardless of status were commonly called upon to help "lay on [healing] hands" when someone was sick.
Prior to the arrival of the evangelical missionaries, each village had one established church. There is little question that the homogeneity of religious belief arising from this arrangement encouraged a sense of identity within the village as well as with the Judeo-Christian world. Regular services brought together most village residents in a common ritual. The establishment of local church offices provided a structure for the emergence of new leaders. And a common doctrine set a standard by which Inupiat could measure their own religious and moral behavior. So too, resentment against others within our outside the community found expression in the act of refusing to attend church - an action that was quite effective since attendance at that time was one of the few activities expected of all village residents. Only salaried employees could be considered exempt, and even then, the more religious felt considerable qualms about working on the Sabbath.
The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part G
Following a period of general relaxation, informal conversation, and further serving of meat and tea, the nalukatak skin ["skin for tossing"] was brought out. Of all the Inupiat ceremonial customs, the nalukatak or "blanket toss" is probably the most well known to Euro-Americans; and it was an exciting event to watch.
After bringing out a skin [made by sewing numerous walrus hides together], thirty or more Inupiat took their places in a circle, grasping firmly with both hands the rope handgrips or rolled edge. The object of the game was to toss a person into the air as high as possible - sometimes reaching more than twenty feet. Such people were expected to keep their balance and return upright to the blanket. Especially skilled individuals might do turns and flips. Usually the first to be tossed were the successful umialit. In earlier days, while high in the air, they were expected to throw out gifts of baleen, tobacco and other items to the crowd. More recently, candy has been used as a substitute. Once an individual lost her or his footing, another took a turn until all had a chance to participate.
In the late afternoon or evening, a dance was scheduled. When a permanent dance floor or temporary board platform had been made ready, five or ten male drummers, supported by a chorus of men and women, announced the beginning of the dance. The first dance, called the umialikit, was obligatory for the umialik, his wife and crew. All other crew members then danced in turn, followed by other men and women in the village. The affair usually lasted well into the night.
Christian and national holidays, including Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Day, Easter, and Independence Day, were actively celebrated by the Inupiat as well.
At this time, contradictions between traditional Inupiat beliefs and those of Christianity were given little direct attention. Most adult villagers considered themselves to be staunch supporters of Christianity. But they also held other beliefs that they knew EuroAmericans didn't share - and thus were cautious about discussing them with outsiders.
One way to learn about earlier Inupiat religious beliefs was to ask the elders to relate legends that had passed down from generation to generation. A well-known story shared by an elderly Barrow resident illustrates the animistic nature of Inupiat religion:
Once there was a poor hunter. He always went out but never got anything. Finally, one day he saw a polar bear. As he crawled toward it over the ice, the bear said to him, "Don't shoot me. If you follow me and do what I say, I will make it so you will always be able to get whatever animals you think about." The bear told the man to climb on his back and close his eyes. "Do not open them until I tell you to." Then, the man and the bear went down into the sea a long way. "Do not open your eyes," the bear reminded him.
The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part F
All Inupiat children from six to sixteen were required to attend local Bureau of Indian Affairs [BIA] schools. Parents generally agreed that school was a necessary part of the modern child's education, and children themselves enjoyed the contrast of school and home. Still, the themes addressed in the classroom differed markedly from those of everyday Inupiat life, and many a youth would have preferred lessons in hunting and skin sewing to those in arithmetic, geography, social studies, and English. Nor did they see much benefit in following newly arrived BIA teachers admonitions that they learn to "Be prompt," Work hard to achieve success," Learn the values of banking and budgeting," and particularly "Keep clean," for such middle class American values had little meaning for life at home.
Although the core of aboriginal Inupiat life centered around the nuclear and extended family, the relationship was continually reinforced by patterns of mutual aid and reciprocal obligation. Beyond the immediate circle of kin, there existed additional social groups, some of which were kin-based and others which were not. Joking partners, for example were usually cross-cousins. Hunting partners were often related, though not always. The qargi club houses, primarily used by extended families for educational and ceremonial purposes, also served as socializing centers for unrelated others. In the large whaling community of Barrow, there were once three qargit, each linked with a whaling captain [umialik] and his crew, although additional family members and their wives were not excluded. It was through participation in institutions such as the qargi that the Inupiat developed a larger sense of identity with a particular locality or settlement.
At one time, the qargi was the meeting place of one of the most important aboriginal festivals held on the North Slope - the Messenger Feast. Usually organized in December, it was a ceremony with both social and economic significance. In early winter, an umialik of a given settlement sent messegers to a nearby locality to invite its residents to participate in an economic exchange. Because of the effort that had to be expended, no one group could afford to give such a feast each year. The choice of the invited settlement was based on the number of trading partners involved and the length of time lapsed since the previous invitation. Elaborate gift exchange between residents added to the development of inter-community solidarity, as did the opportunity for distant kin to re-establish social and economic ties while participating in the activities of the feast.
By the early 1960s, neither the qargi ceremonial centers nor the Messenger Feast were significant community institutions on the North Slope. No qargi remained at Barrow or Wainwright, and at Point Hope the two qargit were only meaningful in so far as they affected the patterning of the Christmas and spring whaling feasts. Similarly, only a vestige of the Messenger Feast was held between Christmas and New Year's Day.
The one important traditional ceremony still actively participated in through the 1960s [and continuing to the present] was the nalukatak, or spring whaling festival. Arrangements for this celebration, which took place at the end of the whaling season, were made by the successful umialiks and their families. If no whales were caught, there was no ceremony. Formerly, the festival took place in the qargi of the successful umialik. One of its purposes was to propitiate the spirits of the deceased whales and ensure through magical means the success of future hunting seasons. A modern adaptation of this religious belief is seen on those occasions when Christian prayers of thanksgiving are recited during the ceremony.
On the day chosen for the event, every boat crew that had killed one or more whales during the season hauled their umiaq out of the sea and dragged them to the ceremonial site. The boats were then turned on their side to serve as windbreaks and temporary shelter for the participants, and braced with paddles or forked sticks. Masts were erected at the bow and from the top were flown the small bright-colored flags of each umialik. Before Christian teaching changed the practice, the captain placed his hunting charms and amulets on these masts. When the site had been arranged completely and a prayer given, the families of the umialik cut off the flukes and other choice sections of a whale, and distributed them along with tea, buscuits, and other food to all invited guests.
The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part E
Young girls, and to a lesser extent young boys, learned techniques of butchering while on hunting trips with older siblings and adults. In most instances, however, neither girls nor boys became at all proficient in this skill until their late-teens or early twenties. Prior to complusory school attendance and the hospitalization of large numbers of youths for tuberculosis, such knowledge was attained at an earlier age. A girl, especially, learned butchering as a young teenager since this skill was essential in attracting a good husband. But by the 1960s, it was more likely to be picked up after marriage - and not always then.
Siblings played together more happily than is often the case in American society, but sibling rivalry was not completely absent. Hostility was generally expressed by tattling or engaging in some form of minor physical abuse. However, anyone indulging in hard pushing, elbowing, pinching, or hitting was told immediately to stop. Rather than fight back, the injured party was more likely to request help from an older sibling or near adult. Verbal abuse was also rare.
By contrast, competiveness, derived from pride of achievement or skill attainment, characterized many children's activities. In games involving athletic prowess, a child would say, "Look how far I can throw the stone," rather than "I can throw the stone farther than you." When rivalry was more direct, it was expected that the game be undertaken in good spirit and the skills of one participant not be flouted at the expense of the other. Aggressive competitiveness was explicitly condemned, as when a father childed his son, "Why you always wanting to win?"
Only very young children limited their play to those of like age. After reaching five or six, the age range of playmates widened considerably. Team games such as "Eskimo football," were particularly popular and had as participants children of both sexes ranging in age from five to twelve. The game combined elements of soccer and `keepaway,'and when played by older boys, elements of rugby as well. It was not until adolescence that a young person actively set herself or himself apart from other children. Youths of this age group briefly watched youngsters play volleyball or some other game, but seldom participated. Adults encouraged this separation, and when they saw a teen-age boy or girl playing with younger children, they would say, "That person is a little slow in his [or her] development."
Many other popular games were played as well. Some, involving feats of skill and strength such as hand wrestling, have had a long history among the Inupiat. Others such as kick-the-can, volleyball, and board games like monopoly and scrabble, were introduced by Whites. Still other games combined elements of both. Haku, an Inupiat team game in which the object was to make the members of the opposite team laugh, included the offering of amusing portraits of Hawaiian and Spanish dances, done, if possible, with a straight face. A few traditional Inupiat games like putigarok, a form of tag where the person who was "it" tried to touch another on the same spot on the body in which he or she was tagged, closely resembled the western game of tag. Some children occasionally played a fantasy game called "polar bear" in which one child took the role of an old woman who fell asleep. The polar bear then came and took away her child. She then woke up and attempted to discover where the bear had hidden it. At Barrow, Inupiat children played a slightly different version of the same game called "old woman." A youth played the role of an old woman who pretended to be blind. When several of her posessions were stolen, she "accused" other children of taking them. This game required a fair amount of verbal exchange. The more able the talker, the more likely the winner. Story telling was one of the most popular forms of Inupiat entertainment, especially during the winter months when outside activity was sharply diminished. Typical stories involved autobiographical or biographical accounts of unusual incidents, accidents, hunting trips, or other events deemed interesting to the listener. Following the evening meal, a father might call all the children around him and recount his last whale hunt, or how he shot his first polar bear. A good storyteller acted out part of the tale, demonstrating how he threw the harpoon at the whale's back, or how the bear scooped up the lead dog and sent him flying across the ice. Other stories told by other people described life long ago before the tanniks arrived. Myths and folk tales portrayed exploits of northern animals and birds endowed with supernatural qualities.
Children, too, liked to tell stories to each other. These short tales usually described some recent activity, real or imagined. Young Inupiat were passionately fond of horror stories, and a vivid description of raw heads and bloody bones quickly elicited delighted screams of fear from the throats of the listeners. If the teller acted out part of the story, so much the better.
The Inupiat child's creative imagination was reflected in all the activities of story telling, imitating others, playing store, and inventing new games. Young girls turned a bolt of cloth into a regal gown which they wore to an imaginary ball. Boys of four or five climbed under a worn blanket with make-believe airplanes to practice night flying. Charging over the tundra with sharply pointed sticks, a pair of six year olds cornered their supposed furry opponent. This kind of spontaneity, supported by flexible routines and a minimum of rules, continued until the early teens when events of the real world began to offer greater challenges. Only in the confines of the classroom did these children find their psychic freedom curtailed.
The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part D
A youngster who wined, sulked, cried, or expressed some other unacceptable emotion, was told flatly, "Be nice!" If it appeared to be getting into mischief, it was warned, "Don't pakak!" There were other frequently offered admonitions as well: "Don't ipagak! meaning do not play in the water or on the beach; "shut the door," to keep out the cold; "Put your parka on," guaranteeing adequate dress for outside; "Don't go in someone else's house when no one is at home," reflecting concern for others' property. Most common was "Don't fight!" which was directed not only against personal assaults and rock throwing, but also verbal quarrels.
A child's reaction to any of these treatments ranged from compliance, temporary fears, or unhappy looks - all of which were usually ignored - to sulking, rebellious shrieks, or silent resistance. This latter took the form of ignoring orders or repeating the behavior to see if the adult would take notice. It was rare indeed to hear a child talk back, verbally refuse to perform the action, or say petulantly, "I don't want to." Sometimes a child did threaten vengence - when it was angry at another child or an outsider such as a tanik - but it was most unusual to hear threats directed at parents or adult relatives. By adolescence, discipline seemed to consist entirely of lectures, though still delivered in the harsh tone characterizing Inupiat cautions.
After the age of five, a child was less restricted in its activities in and around the village although walking on the beach or ice still required an adult. During the dark winter season, the child remained indoors or stayed close to the house to prevent it from getting lost and to protect it from polar bears which occasionally entered a village looking for food. In summer, children played at all hours of the day and "night," or at least until their parents went to bed.
By the eighth year, some of the responsibility for a child's socialization had been passed from adults to peers. Children frequently lectured each other using the same admonitions as told to them earlier: "Don't fight," "Don't pakak," "You supposed to knock," and "Shut the door." Rule-breaking might also be reported to a nearby adult: "Mom. Sammy ipagak." Tattling was not depreciated to the extent that it had once been. Still, while older children regularly "played parent" in which they imposed adult rulings on younger ones, all children instructed each other irrespective of their age. Such instruction was generally taken in good spirit. Thus, when an younger child reminded an older one, "You supposed to knock," the latter was likely to smile sheepishly, go out of the room, knock, and enter again.
Although not burdened with responsibility, boys and girls were both expected to take an active role in family activities. In the early years, these were shared, depending on who was available. Regardless of gender, it was important for a child to know how to perform a wide variety of tasks and give assistance when needed. Both sexes collected and chopped wood, got water, helped carry meat and other supplies, oversaw younger siblings, ran errands for adults, fed the dogs, and burned trash. As children grew older, more specific responsibilities were allocated according to gender. Boys as young as seven might be given an opportunity to shoot a .22 rifle, and at least a few boys in every village had taken their first caribou by the time they were ten or eleven.
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The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part C
Concepts of hygiene varied widely and appeared to be in direct proportion to the degree of association and identification with the outside world. But few if any mothers expressed serious concern about a baby putting a dirty object from the floor in its mouth, or passing a bottle from a sick child to a well one. In short, infant care consisted primarily of keeping the baby happy. For the baby this meant being cuddled, fed, rested, warmed, and kept dry.
Without question, the warmth and affection given infants by parents, siblings, and other relatives provided them with a deep sense of well-being and security. Young children also felt important because they learned early that they were expected to be useful, working members of the family. While this included a number of tedious chores, involvement in the daily round of activities nevertheless enhanced their feeling of family participation and cohesion. Parents rarely denied children their company or excluded them from the adult world.
This pattern reflected the parents' views of child rearing. Adults felt that they had more experience in living and it was their responsibility to share this experience with their children, "to tell them how to live." Children had to be told repeatedly because they tended to forget. Misbehavior was due to a child's forgetfulness, or to improper teaching in the first place. There was rarely any thought that the child was basically nasty, willful, or sinful. Where many Americans applauded children for their good behavior, the Inupiat praised them for remembering. This attitude was reflected in many situations. In the early 1960s, for example, a father was observed lecturing in Inupiat to his children before they set out on a short camping trip. Asked to expand on his remarks, he said:
We stir them up a little to live right. Tell them to obey the parents; do what people tell them to do. And like now, when they go on a camping trip, not to take a new pillow. It get's dirty on the trip. Take the old one. They young. They don't know what to do. We tell them how to do things. Like our parents used to tell us. Same they used to talk to us. We used to talk a lot like that but we haven't lately. We begin again. Stir them up. They forget.
Another man discussed his nephew's helpless panic during a hunting trip when a severe storm threatened to wipe out the camp. Waking at night to find the tent blowing away and their boat temporarily lost, the boy had become frozen with fear. Never suggesting that he was cowardly or weak, the man was critical of the nephew's behavior, but explained it in terms of his not having had sufficient experience to know what to do.
Fathers actively participated in the daily life of the family; and in disciplinary matters, appeared to fulfil a function similar to that existing in many other American homes. Thus, a mother might say to a recalcitrant child, "Wait till I tell your father!" or "Wait till your father comes home. You gonna get a licking!" Among families with limited outside contact, the father retained a more dominant, rather than equal-participant, role. Here, the child was expected to be restrained, quiet, and respectful in his or her father's presence.
By the time children reached the age of three or four, the parents' earlier demonstrativeness had become tempered with an increased interest in their activities and skill level. They watched them play with obvious pleasure, responded warmly to their conversation, and made jokes with them. Though children were given considerable autonomy and its whims and wishes were treated with respect, they were nevertheless taught to obey all older people. To an outsider unfamiliar with parent-child relations, the tone of Inupiat commands and admonitions sometimes sounded harsh and angry. Yet in few instances did a child respond as if he or she had been addressed with hostility. This was due to the fact admonitions that were given tended to be indirect and general rather than geared to the specific individual.
The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part B
When outside, the mother customarily carried her baby until it was two years old or until another child was born. Strapped in place by a belt that went around the mother's waist and under the child's buttocks, it had little freedom of movement. Still, by the age of two, it had been given sufficient opportunity to move around that it was able to walk quite well. Sometimes a child older than two asked to be carried, and although the mother might fulfill the child's wish, siblings and friends were likely to discourage such requests through good-natured teasing.
The Inupiat infant rarely had a set feeding or sleeping time - which was hardly surprising considering the similar lack of schedule of most adults. When the baby cried it was fed, whether by breast or bottle. Following World War II, bottle feeding was encouraged for those adults with sufficient cash income to obtain canned milk. By the age of one, all children were eating solid foods including homemade broths and premasticated meat. Weaning was a gradual process that might not be completed until the third or even fourth year. An older child rarely was rejected in favor of a younger one, and the transition occurred with little difficulty.
Toilet training, by contrast, was begun early, usually by the first birthday. The mother held the child on a pot or on her lap, blowing gently on its head. When the desired result had been achieved, she indicated her pleasure with a few kind words and playful movements. By the 1960s, the soft caribou skin and moss undergarments used by earlier Inupiat mothers to clothe their children had been replaced by cloth diapers; and as a baby grew older, it was given "training pants" - cast off clothing open at the crotch. Accidents and near misses were treated very lightly although they might bring a gentle rebuke. Even chronic bed-wetters were not punished, except among more acculturated families where the offender was made to stay in bed longer than usual. In general, there was no aura of shame or secrecy about excretory functions, and no reticence in discussing them. During the course of her field work, young girls might say to Jean Briggs "don't look," but girls under four and all boys urinated unconcernedly anywhere out of doors.
Given the combination of large families and small houses, Inupiat sleeping arrangements varied markedly from middle class American patterns. Formerly, infants slept with their parents; but by the early 1960s, the youngest slept in cribs, the next oldest child or children with their parents, and still older ones with each other. As many as four siblings of different sexes might sleep in the same bed, all covered by the same large blanket. Youths were given separate beds on reaching adolescence, and if the size of the room permitted, they might even have a cubbyhole or corner of a room to themselves. However, if the house was small and crowded, quite grown-up children slept in the same room with their parents. Only among the most affluent families would a child have a bed of its own.
Discipline was seldom imposed on the child before it was one year old. This was of little significance, however, since a child carried on the mother's back most of the time presented few problems. Only when it had sufficient freedom of movement to pakak - get into things it shouldn't - was it carefully observed.
The Inupiat of Northern Alaska Part A
Growing Up in an Inupiat Village
In the decades immediately following World War II, children continued to be a dominant feature of North Alaskan village life. An Inupiat child was considered a vital part of the family and enjoyed much love and affection from both parents. Families, most ranging in size from seven to twelve, were also much larger than in previous generations, due in large part to the more sedentary life style and the lowered infant mortality rate brought on by improved health care services. Few parents had knowledge of ways to effectively limit the number of offspring. No strong preference was expressed for one sex as opposed to the other. Some families hoped the first-born would be a girl who could assist in caring for those that followed. Others wanted a boy because he could eventually be of assistance in hunting. No matter what the parent's preference, a baby of either sex was welcomed on arrival with great affection.
Occasionally a family had more children than it could adequately support. When this occurred, the infant was "offered" to another family with fewer than it desired; or perhaps to grandparents. This form of adoption has a long history and is still prevalent today. A child was also adopted because the adoptive parents were childless, the parents had died, they were close friends, or because the child was illegitimate and could be given a better upbringing in a home with a father. Illegitimacy itself, however, carried none of the stigma characteristic of middle class American society. Adoption was usually, though not necessarily, arranged between kin. An adopted child always used the terms "father" and "mother" for her or his foster parents even when closely related to them. The child's origin was never concealed and in many instances it was considered as belonging to both families. The child might even call the two sets of parents by the same terms and maintain strong bonds with the real parents and siblings as with the foster ones. Whatever the reasons for adoption, parents treated the new child with as much warmth and affection as they did their own.
In earlier times numerous taboos relating to pregnancy had to be followed - for if broken, harm could easily befall the mother, child, or both. For instance, a pregnant woman who walked backward out of a house could have a breech delivery; putting a pot over her head could cause her extreme difficulty in delivering the placenta; and sleeping at odd hours might give her a lazy child. Births also took place in a special parturition lodge, known as the aanigutyak. In winter, it was a snow house built for the purpose by the father, and the woman entered it as soon as she began labor. She gave birth in a kneeling position with the help of an assistant, usually a female relative with some experience in delivering babies.
In the 1950s, women without access to the public health hospital at Barrow had their children at home helped by specially trained midwives of which there were six at Point Hope. At Wainwright and Kaktovik, mothers were more likely to go to the Barrow hospital for their delivery. Still, numerous stories were told of the hardiness of Inupiat women giving birth under difficult circumstances. In 1962, for example, the anthropologist James VanStone wrote of a woman traveling by small boat to Point Hope who at a particular moment asked to be put ashore. As the craft slowly moved on without her, she gave birth to her child. After cutting the cord and scraping sand over the afterbirth, she put the newborn in her parka and ran along the beach, eventually catching up with the boat.
By the time an Inupiat child was a month old, it was customarily baptized by a missionary and given a name. Every child received an English and at least one Inupiat name. Chosen by parents, they were almost always those of recently deceased relatives or highly respected individuals. When English names were introduced early in the 20th century, Inupiat ones often became family names. According to custom, the name given the child carried with it the qualities of the individual from whom it was taken. When an elderly living person's name was used, the person would give the child gifts. This action was prompted by the belief that after the older person's death, the doner's spirit would survive in the namesake.
When the baby was two or three months old, the mother passed on some of the responsibility for its care to grandmothers, older siblings and unmarried sisters and cousins. In these circumstances, a child soon became accustomed to having a variety of tenders, a pattern which continued until it could care for itself.
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