Arctic Survival
Aunt Mumongeeno Always Bragged of 'Mother's' Prowess
B.v Howard Rock
Times Editor
“Mother, I better put some muk
tuk and meat in your pack. It won’t
tire you. They're very light." Aunt
Mumangeena said affectionately.
My grandmother, Siqvoan, had
died two weeks before I was born
and I was promptly named after
her. My aunt had loved her a great
deal and when I was named after
her. she adopted me as her “moth
er So ever since I could remember
she called me that.
I was a big boy. ten years old
now. and I had gotten quite used to
being called “mother" by my aunt,
except when there was a crowd,
such as ones after church. I tried
to avoid her at such times.
I didn't mind being called “moth
er that early morning in August.
Site was very kind to me and the
prospect of walking five miles to
a low hill east of Point Hope to
pick berries, promised adventure.
Early Riser
Mumangeena was always an early
riser but that morning she arose
even earlier. She woke me up, of
course, then shook Uncle Nayukuk
who was sound asleep. He turned
on his side away from her and
grunted.
If you had been man enough
you'd have taken us in an umiak
to the hill,” Mumangeena said with
disgust.
“Everyone is using his umiak
now." Nayukuk answered sleepily.
“Did you ask anyone? No. you
didn't!" retorted his wife. “You're
nothing but a useless husband
around this house.”
Nayukuk stayed on his side fac
ing the wall and said nothing,
breathing easily. Aunt Mumangeena
hissed disgustedly looking at her
husband but said nothing.
TJnclp Nayukuk was the kind of a j
man anyone would not have
changed. He just kept right on be
ing himself, seemingly unworried,
somewhat lazy, and thick-skinned
to his wife’s frequent nagging.
Trip Starts
“Kee. ahkahng. owluqlook,” ('‘Al
right. mother, let us leave,") said
Mumangeena quietly.
With that we went out of the
sod igloo. The dawn was just creep- 1
ing up out of the east. The sky was
clear. It was going to be a beautiful
day.
We started walking east. The vil
lage was very quiet except for one
dog that occasionally barked. I was
full of energy and I kept getting
ahead of my aunt. I would look
back and there she was waddling
along rather slowly but steadily. |
She had very bowed legs that made
he waddle.
Full of Energy
After walking about a half mile.
I had gotten quite a distance ahead
of Aunt Mumangeena. I ran back
to her and said, "You are very slow."
“You better not run back to me
like that because you'll be tired
before the day is over,” she warned.
We finally reached the small la
goon a mile east of the village.
Mumangeena sat down on the
gravel beach and said, “Let us rest
a while here.”
Instead of resting. I threw peb
bles at flying seagulls and terns.
Tiring of that, I looked around for
flat rocks and skipped them on the
water of the lagoon.
Trip Continues
After about five minutes of rest,
Mumangeena got up and we re
sumed our foot journey. Beyond the
small lagoon was a big one that
stretched 12 miles east to the mouth
of Kukpuk River. There was a nar
row strip of land between the la
goon and the Arctic Ocean that
widened as it hit the hill where we
were to pick berries. Most of the
land strip was made up of gravel
and sand with only a few patches of
soil with grass. Our foot travel was
mostly on gravel that was tiring to
walk on.
About the fourth mile of our walk.
I was no longer getting ahead of my
aunt. I began to welcome the rest
stops.
“You see mother, one of the things
you have to learn while you're
growing up is to conserve your
strength," Mumangeena said quietly.
“Can you see now why you should
n't waste your energy?"
Follows Tradition
Aunt Mumangeena was a person
of the old school. She observed tra
ditions as thoroughly as her an
cestors must have done. When I
came to live with her and Uncle
Nayukuk two years before, she
started at once to train me for a
future hunter. One of the things she
required of me to do was very dif
ficult. I protested at first but she
wouldn't hear of it. If I didn’t I
would go without breakfast. She
was determined and firm.
She commenced to toughen me
up so I could stand the rigors of the
weather. For what seemed a long
time she required me, without
clothes, to comfort myself first
thing in the morning out in the
weather no matter how cold it was.
At the beginning. I cried with pro
test and frustration because many
of those mornings were bitterly
cold-.
"Mother, a great hunter never
cries. He has to be tough and be
able to meet all kinds of hardships,”
she wuold say while showing gen
uine sympathy.
Success
Finally a day came when I did
this without whimpering. Muman
geena was a picture of happiness.
She was proud and convinced that
I would be a great hunter of the
future.
On the morning of my success,
she looked at me questioningly as I
hurriedly entered the sod igloo.
When she saw that I wasn’t going
to whimper, she waddled over to me
and took me in her arms. I felt very
proud and felt that I had done
something of major importance; so
proud that I almost cried in Aunt
Mumangeena's arms.
“You will be a great hunter, I'm
sure of it. You will live a good life
with many things to eat. Your vil
lage will look up to you. I’m very
proud of you," she said tenderly
looking straight into my eyes. “I
will do something nice for you. I'll
make you a nice new parka and a
new pair of mukluks."
She was true to her promise and
she treated me with greater kind
ness. She was also quite voluble
about my success to her neighbors
and told them that she was sure that
I was a coming great hunter. Once
in a while she would add. “He will
never be like that man, his uncle
Nayukuk.”
Reach Hill
When we finally reached the hill,
I was somewhat tired but not enough
to discourage me from berry pick
ing. After we rested a while we
began to walk up the gentle incline
of the hill to a place Mumangeena
pointed out as a likely place for
berries. When we came to it we
found there were quite a few but
not as many as my aunt had ex
pected.
She had given me a small kettle
to carry the berries in. At first, we
picked around the same spots but
after a while we separated. Soon
we were about 150 yards apart.
As I picked, I noticed that there
were patches of mud crusted spots
in the grassy earth. I walked on
them and they were solid. As I
moved from place to place I saw
several of them and thought noth
ing of it.
My kettle was just about full. I
looked at the berries in it and was
eating some when I started to cross
one of the crusted spots. It was
about 5 feet in diameter.
The Fall
Suddenly the crust broke under
my young weight and I started fall
ing into a soft muddy morass. In
a moment I was up to my waist in
it. I twisted to my right and grabbed
a grassy earth and held on and then
swung my left hand and grabbed
on to the grass. Even then my body
seemed to want to sink into the soft
mud. It seemed to want to pull me
under.
I started to pull myself up. I got
up a few inches but it took all my
young strength to do it. The suction
of the morass was great.
As I struggled I could hear Aunt
Mumageena screaming. “Ahkahng!
Ahkahng! Where are you! Answer
me, Ahkahng"
I could not answer. All I could
think of was to get out of the mud.
Escape
In inched myself out of the mud
little by little. I kept grabbing the
soil and grass farther out from the
edge of the mud hole and soon had
my elbows on solid ground. Using
my elbows for leverage and grab
bing the earth hard, I strained up
ward. I got my shoulders up and
over the edge of the morass.
I pulled up m.v right leg. It was
like trying to pull it out of chilled
molasses. As soon as I got my knee
on the surface of the mud, it felt
like it was freed of a gerat weight.
From Cleopatra
To Pocahontas
i reprinted from the American Indian
Horizon I
By Dr. Spottedwolf (Cherokee
I SEE WHERE the colored people
are all set to have a Freedom
March on the movie and TV studios
... Wish Indians could get together
and form a NAAIP (National Asso
ciation of Indian People). I can just
imagine how it would be if we took
| over the movie and television in
dustry . . .
We could change CLEOPATRA
to POCAHONTAS, with a woodland
setting, of course . . . PT 109 would
be all about a Chippewa Indian un
der the title, CANOE 203 .. .
Just think of what the Indians
could do with the new TV series
for the 1964 season . . . CANDID
MOCCASIN . . . MY THREE
BRAVES . . . Instead of BEVERLY
HILLBILLIES, we could have the
CHEROKEE HILLBILLIES . . .
We could dry-dock McH ALE'S
NAVY and launch SITTING
BULL'S NAVY . . . Instead of the
NEW BREED, we could have the
HALF-BREED . . . We could revoke
Ben Casey's license and film a
series called the MEDICINE MAN
. . . GENERAL HOSPITAL would
become MEDICINE TIPI . . .
In place of PANTOMIME QUIZ,
we would have SIGN LANGUAGE
QUIZ . . . And, on the western
fields of glory, oh, what we could
do ... 1 Those cowboys would
never win. Italian-Americans would
have to go back to playing Italian
Americans, and we would cast IN
DIANS as INDIANS ... We would
change the VIRGINIAN to the
PAMUNKEY . . .
Under our revised format, GUN
SMOKE would evaporate and AR
ROW DUST would fill the air . . .
WE would have to change the lo
cation from DODGE CITY to PON
CA CITY . . . MARSHAL MATT
DILLON would become MATT
CRAZY SNAKE, CHIEF OF THE
Yukon Flats Meeting Draws
Delegates From 6 Villages
Reported By \Y\ B, Fredson
Six Yukon Flats Athabascan In
dian villages sent representatives
to Fort Yukon Oct. 25 for a four
day meeting on economic and so
cial development, and to duscuss
the proposed Rampart Dam on the
Yukon River.
Twenty delegates attended the
meeting. Pete Simple of Fort Yu
kon was elected chairman of the
group, and W. B. Fredson of Chalky
itsik was named recording secre
tary.
Villages represented were Fort
Yukon, Birch Creek Village, Arctic
Village, Venetie, Chalkyitsik, and
Canyon Village. Plans have been
made to call another meeting in
February, and to invite delegates
from Beaver and Stevens Village,
also located in the Yukon Flats.
Education was discussed at the
meeting. It was pointed out that
education has a mixed blessinng for
many young native people. Some
have received high school educa
tion, yet can’t find jobs. It was
pointed out that this is a frustrat
ing situation.
However, the groups noted it is
still in favor of more, and better
education for the people of the
Flats.
Means to step up economic ac
tivities in the Flats were also dis
cussed. Representatives of Fort Yu
kon, the largest Indian Village in
INDIAN POLICE ... We have
any number of pretty Indian girls
to play, MISS KITTY, but the LONG
BRANCH SALOON would have to
be the BUFFALO HORN CAFE . . .
We can’t have a saloon, because
everyone knows that we can’t hold
our liquor . . .
Well, it will never happen, but
it sure would be funny to see them
sell used horses during the com
mercial.
Interior Alaska, with about 600
persons, noted that this is a prob
lem in their fourth class city.
The problem of Fort Yukon came
under fire from Chairman Simple,
who said, “All my efforts have
been to no avail, and I have had
no cooperation from the people."
He noted that the attitude in the
village seems to be, "Every man
for himself.”
Mrs. Charlotte Alexander, an
other Fort Yukon delegate, noted
that some of the problems of Fort
Yukon result from the size of the
village, “which gives rise to many
factions."
Delegates hoped that the bring
ing together of leaders will help
solve this type of problems.
It was well summed up by Am
brose Williams, of Arctic Village,
who told the assembled delegates,
“I can not read nor write. But I am
glad for this chance to listen and
learn of the progress being made in
some of the other villages.”
The proposed Rampart Dam pro
ject came under heavy criticism by
the delegates. The project was
deemed a “white elephant” by one
of the delegates from Chalkyitsik.
Other delegates noted they would
be forced from their homes by the
11.000 square mile reservoir created
by the dam. We do not want to
move, several said.
Delegates to the conference were:
Abraham Peter, Birch Creek James
and Lawrence Martin, Birch Creek
Village; Isacc Tritt and Ambrose
Williams, Arctic Village; David
Salmon and Abraham Christian,
Venetie: W. B. Fredson, Thomas
Williams, Chalkyitsik; Paul Solo
mon, Mardow Solomon, Hannah
Solomon, Peter Simple, Percy Her
bert, Charlotte Alexander, Phillip
Peter, Steven Peter, Arthur James
and Elliot Johnson, of Fort Yukon,
and Stanley Jonas, Canyon Village.
I looked toward Aunt Muman
geena who was still hollering and
screaming. She was on a waddling
run toward me. She fell down as I
watched. When she finally reached
me, I was out of the mud com
pletely. She was a picture of alarm
and worry.
“Why did I ever let you wander
off?” She kept saying that over
and over again.
Fright
A great emotion began to well up
in me and I broke out sobbing.
Mumangeena was crying from sym
pathy and relief as she held me
in her arfs and I was crying from
sudden fright.
When I calmed down a little I
looked at the deep mudhole. There
were salmon berries scattered all
over the thin crust but there was
no sign of the kettle. I apparently
shoved it under because there were
berries in the mud I was in.
“Wait here until I get the bucket,
mother.” Mumangeena said.
She went back to where she had
left it. When she came back I
noticed there were not many berries
in it. When she started her dash
toward me she had stumbled and
spilled her bucket. Without bother
ing to recover them, she hurried
back to me.
Miserable
I was feeling miserable in the
mud on my body. Mumangecna took
me by the hand and we started
down the hill and stopped on dry
grass near the bank of the lagoon.
She took my muddy parka off and
told me to undress. She took my
clothes and took them to the water
and washed them. “You better wash
the mud off your body,” she said.
After wringing my clothes. Mum
angeena took some dry grass and
rubbed most of the moisture off.
When I put them on they were un
comfortable and damp. When I com
plained she told me to run around
for a while.
“Let’s go home now. We won’t do
anymore berry picking today,” my
aunt said.
Talks All The Way
On the way home. Mumangeena
talked the whole distance. When
she was not berating herself for
the near tragedy, she gave advice.
She told about our ancestors nam
ing them from generations back.
The return trip didn't seem as
long because of Mumangeena's con
tinuous and interesting chatter. But
when we finally got home I was a
very tired boy. I had almost for
gotten the day's incident, but not
my Aunt Mumangeena. She didn’t
waste any time telling about it to
my parents and other people:
Tells of Near Tragedy
“I had seen mother picking ber
ries a moment before, but when I
looked again he had disappeared
completely. I got worried and start
ed calling but not a sound came
from him. I was getting more wor
ried by the moment so I started run
ning to where he was. I kept getting
ahead of my poor old legs and
stumbled many times.
“When I reached him, there he
was. poor like mother, getting him
self out of that terrible mudhole.
He was the dirtiest thing I have
ever seen — all covered with dirty
wet mud.” l
Aunt Mumangeena went on an'
on in that fashion telling of tlft
incident and after saying that the
mudhole must have been bottom
less, she continued:
“It took great courage for him to
come out of it all by himself. His
clumsy old aunt was no help at all.
stumbling all the way to come to
him.
“He acted more like a man than
a boy.”
After pausing a moment, she said,
“I am certain that he will be one
of the finest hunters in the future.”
Aunt Mumangeena failed to men
tion that I had cried lustily when
I came out of the mudhole.