Arctic Survival
HUNTER DANCED AFTER BIG WHALE KILL; THOUGHT OF PARENTS
| By Howard Rock
Times Editor
1 grieved with him as he danced, j
1 had suddenly noticed that there j
was a great sadness in it. Yet,
Kakeirnok was performing one of
the most vigorous dances I have i
ever witnessed—a powerfu dance to
the heavy roll of the whale liver
skin drums. A gray fog had begun
to envelop the celebration grounds.
Like His Father
As his father had done through t
the many years in the past, Kakair
nok had established his own whal
ing crew, using the very same umiak
his lather had used. It was comfort
ing to him to have the umiak. It
seemed to carry the spirit of his
father.
Kakairnok had started late on
his whaling career. He had worked
and lived in Fairbanks for many
years with his wife and son. They
also lived in Barrow for a time
when he worked there. He and his
family returned to Point Hope in
1960.
It was the latter part of May.
which meant that the whaling sea
son was about to come to an end.
Only one whale, about a thirty ton
ner. had been taken by Daniel Lis
bourne and his crew. Although all
the families in the village had some
whale meat and muktuk, the whal
ers felt they needed more for the
coming winter. There was anxiety
among the whale hunters—anxiety
in the whole village.
Strikes Whale
Then on May 24, 1961. about 2 a m.
in a beautiful spring morning, Ka
kairnok struck a huge bowhead
whale. It had floated up in an ice
cove. Thinking it was about to
sound. Kakairnok hurled his dart
ing gun with the bow of the umiak
25 or 30 feet away.
The fuse bomb lodged somewhere
back of the kidneys inches from
the massive spine. When the bomb
exploded it fractured the backbone.
Kekairnok's crew consisted of his
brother-in-law, Bernard Nash: Rob
ert Omnik: his son Elijah; Carl Tuz
royluke, the helmsman, and his
wife. Frances, who had talked her
self into going along instead of stay
ing in the cook tent.
The False Sign
At the explosion of the bomb, the
great whale started to turn turtle
and Kakairnok felt thankful. The
momentum of the umiak had taken
them just about over the tail end of I
the mammoth animal.
Suddenly is Happened! The great
flukes rose out of the water and
flailed wickedly in the air. When
the tail came up it caught Kakair
nok’s umiak at the bow and partially
tipped it to the left. This caused it
to ship water, almost tipping it
over. There was about 8 inches of
water in the umiak when they
righted.
The crew began to back paddle
Urgently but before they were far
enough away, the llukes swished
out of the water and whipped inches
away from Kakairnok’s head and
the bow of the umiak. The water
hurled by them stung into his face,
blinding him for several moments.
The rest of the people were soaked
with water.
Patrick Attungana’s umiak that
had come to help, unexpectedly got
caught by the tip of one fluke and
was lifted clear out of the water,
fracturing the keel and breaking
the supporting ribs.
Subdued At Last
Other crews came to help. They
*hot several more bombs into the
great mammal, some of which failed
to explode. When one of them ex
ploded in a vital spot the whale
finally died. Kakairnok had caught
his whale!
During the heart-stopping action,
JCakgirnok’s son, Elijah, suddenly
found himself beside his mother
who was at the stern seat in front of
.Jhe helmsman. When the action
started he had been sitting opposite
Robert Omnik. “I don't know how I
I got there," he said later.
Since the sea ice was now getting
rotten from thawing action, every
available man was put to work cut
ting up the whale. It took two and
a half days and nights to complete
the job.
Season Ends
The completion of the cutting of
the whale ended the season. Siq
loaks (underground meat caches)
were filled to the brim with the
meat and muktuk of the huge
whale. The huge jawbones were
dragged ashore by dogteam. Each
of the m measured 19 feet. The
longest of the baleen measured 10%
feet. The whale itself was estimated
to weigh around 60 tons.
Kakairnok and Daniel Lisbourne
and their crews set the Kaqruq
(whaling celebration) for June 8-10.
Tradition
The successful whaler's umiaks
had been set on platforms of ice
just off the beach north of the vil
lage, by tradition of the Kaqmaq
tuuq, or the north faction of the
whalers. Ungasaqsiqaaq, the south
ern faction and traditional rival of
the Kaqmaqtuuq, staged their um
iaks on the south beach.
On the first day of the Kaqruq,
I the umiaks on the ice were pulled
j ashore over the banks and raised
1 on platforms that elevated them
about two and a half feet off the
ground. Paddles were set angling
outward with the flare of the boat
and stuck under a brace beneath the
gunwhale with the blade parallel
to the length of the umiak.
It was completed with an inno
vation adopted many years ago. A
flag pole was put up at the bow and
the Old Glory was furled to the top.
This done, the wives of the cap
tains and wives of the crews
brought the traditional food, the
"mekiaq.'* whale meat that had
been cured to a tart taste. Other
refreshments such as hot coffee,
were brought.
The second day of festival was
spent in preparation of the Kaqruq
grounds. Leantos were erected,
stoves set up for women cooks.
Early in the morning of the third
day. the two crews took the umiaks
to the Kaqruq grounds, braced
them on their sides for wind breaks
for the audience.
Festival Begins
Around 9 a.m. in the morning,
people of the village began to con
verge on the celebration grounds.
The day was cool and the sun broke
through occasionally through the
clouds. By 10 a.m. just about every
one in the village had gathered.
Most of them were dressed in their
new fineries for the occasion.
The festivities began with a
prayer of thanks during which
everyone stood and bowed his head.
When the people sat down, Peter
Koonooyak, an old, old man and
one of the greatest whalers of Point
Hope, remained standing.
He stood there, his white hair
gleaming in the sun that had broken
through the clouds. Age had slightly
rounded his shoulders but other
wise he stood straight, proud—dig
nified.
Whaler Retires
A rather loud voice echoed,
“Koonooyak would like to talk to
all of you.”
I looked around and was sur
prised to see a microphone set up in
the center of the Kaqruq grounds—
a strange instrument to be seen
in the center of the ancient festival
area.
Koonooyak strode slowly to the
microphone. He looked all around
and stood facing southwest to the
main audience. He said in a deep
voice:
“My children, mothers, young
men, young women, and fellow
whalers. I am before you this day
with a feeling of great reluctance
to what I have to say. I’m an old
man now and age has weakened
my limbs. I can no longer do many
things I loved to do. One of those
is whaling.
When the next season of whaling
comes upon us I will not be out on
the ice.”
Urges Perpetuation
Peter Koonooyak was retiring
with great reluctance. The great
whaler told his people that they
must carry on "the precious heri
tage our intrepid forefathers had
so painfully established—whaling
in Tigara. It made this, our beloved
Kaqruq, possible. Our brave fore
fathers with great wisdom had es
tablished it for us to enjoy here
today and for those who will enjoy
it in the future.”
As he talked, the crowd was si
lent, serious. Even children seemed
to have caught the gravtiy of it.
Koonooyak’s voice echoed across
the traditional Kaqruq grounds as
he thanked his people for listening.
There was no applause. Instead,
there was a long silence when he
finished his speech.
Traditional Gift
Finally, Daniel Lisbourne rose
from the audience followed by his
crew. The men began to silce his
whale’s flukes into half inch thick
nesses. When sufficient slices had
been cut. Lisbourne and his wife
put on their new white canvas
gloves, picked up some slices and
began to call out people’s names
with remarks of amusing nature.
Each person whose name was called
came forward and received the gift.
Later, Kakairnok and his wife
came forward with his crew. The
flukes of his huge whale were sliced
and they passed around the gifts.
Finally, the traditional giving of
the flukes was over.
People ate. They had started in
the morning with hotcakes, butter
and syrup. Around noon, they ate
whale hearts and tongues boiled
by the women cooks. There was
caribou meat, Eskimo icecream,
mekiaq, muktuk, peaches. I was
amazed to see maple bars in a large
paper box being passed around by
two young ladies.
Maple Bars
The pastry looked and tasted ex
actly like the ones I had eaten in
New York, Chicago, Seattle, and
Fairbanks.
“Did somebody send for these from
Fairbanks?” I asked the young
ladies.
“No, your cousin Luke Koonook,
made them last night and this
morning,” one of the girls answered.
Luke had baked them over a
Coleman stove using a cast iron
skillet for an oven. He had taken
a course in a baker’s school in Chi
cago.
The Nalukatuk
Next on the program was naluka
tuk (blanket toss). After the
youngsters had a session on it for
about a half hour, the adults took
over. There was much whooping
and much hilarity as men and
women were tossed 20 or 25 feet
into the air.
During the nalukatuk, four el
derly men chanted ancient whaling
songs to the beat of their drums.
There was something aesthetic
about the sounds of light-hearted
ness and the sound of the drums
and the chants in the background.
Nalukatuk ended after about an
hour. That meant that the festivities
were just about to come to an end—
except for the dance of the whaling
captains.
Strange Delay
There was an unexplained delay
as I waited expectantly. I thought
that it was not going to be ob
served. People in family groups be
gan to go home. In a short while
there was a handful of people left
on the celebration grounds.
The wind had shifted from south
west to north. Chilled air began to
blow in. With it came the fog en
veloping the Kaqruq area.
The jawbones of Kakairnok's
whale that had been put up into
a huge arch seemed to loom larger
in the gathering fog, appearing
darker than others, being fresh
from the recent hunt. Those of the
seasons past were bleached white
by weather. They looked even
‘Never Cry Wolf,’ Story of Scientist
And Adventures on Remote Canadian
Barrenlands With Wild Wolf Family
By Terry Brady
Times Staff Writer
Did you ever crawl into a wolf
den, and find yourself face to face
with the inhabitants?
Farley Mowat did, and this is
only one of the adventures he re
lates in his newest northern book,
“Never Cry Wolf.” It relates his
experiences with a group of wolves
in the Canadian Barrenlands, while
he worked as a boliogist for the
Canadian government.
While Mowat writes in a way that
at times “tickles the reader’s rib
bone,” he is actually making a
very important point . . . that
wolves are not the wicked animals
they are made out to be, and are
actually very important to the eco
logy of many areas ... for man
as well as other animals.
Mowat was sent into the Barren
lands by his government to investi
gate charges that wolves were
slaughtering the caribou herds. He
says he soon realized that all the
wolves were doing were killing the
“sick, lame and lazy" animals . . .
while trappers and hunters were
actually responsible for any slagh
tering going on.
Shortly after Mowat was put
down on the Barrenlands, just be
fore spring breakup, he found a
wolf family, that consisted, in his
words, of the father, "George" the
mother “Angeline” an unattached
male, he named “Uncle Albert,"
and four pups.
He stayed near them for six
months. And some of the things he
re-discovered about wolves will
surprise the layman, and may cre
ate some controversies among wild
life people.
I say re-discovered, because all
through the book Mowat concedes
that the things he found were al
ready known by the Inland Eski
mos living in Keewatin.
Much light is shed on the wolf,
caribou, man relationship that is
important to Canada and Alaska,
in this book, “Never Cry Wolf,”
published by Atlantic - Little,
Brown. The book retails for $4.95.
One warning. Some persons who
are squemish about biology may
take offense at some of the pas
sages, even though they are treat
ed in a light manner.
Mowat has also authored several
other controversial books, includ
ing “The People of the Deer” and
the “Desperate People,” which are
his version of the wrongs done to
Interior Canadian Eskimos and
Northern Indians by an advancing
civilization concerned with mone
tary things.
Even some persons also interest
ed in these problems have taken
issue with some of Mowat’s treat
ments. But despite this, the indi
vidualistic writer, who makes his
home in Newfoundland, has cre
ated much “food for thought.”
“Never Cry Wolf’ continues in
this vein.
whiter in the enveloping fog. An
eerie gloom seemed to settle on the
grounds.
The four elderly chanters had re
mained. They sat quietly on the low
umiak sled that was draped with
caribou skins. I wondered why they
had not left.
Dance Begins
Kakairnok, who had been sitting
quietly with his wife on the side,
suddenly rose to his feet and strode
without hesitation toward the nalu
katuk skin that had been placed
in front of the chanters. Before
Kakairnok reached it. one of the
drummers broke into the personal
song of the whaling captain's father.
Kakairnok is known as one of
the better hunters in his village.
He personifies the true hunter his
ancestors had produced. He pursues.
He is tireless. He is solidly built
and he is strong. He can be a for
midable opponent if an occasion
arose. He is stern at times but he
has a great sense of humor.
Kakairnok stood for a moment in
front of the chanters and looked
skyward. He than began to put on
his clean white gloves, his feet
keeping time with the light beat
ing of the drums, one and then the
other. When the gloves were on,
he began the gestures of his dance
casually. There was no smile on his
face. He was serious.
Fine Clothes
He gestured thus for the length
of his father's whaling song. His
gloves looked very white against
the black velveteen parka jacket
trimmed with a beautiful wolf ruff
around the hood.
The hood was off his head at the
moment. The bottom of his parka
was trimmed with wolverine. The
hem and wrists were decorated with
fine designs. He wore black trousers
and on his feet were a new pair of
ankle-length mukluks decorated
with fine designs.
The first round of the chant
ended. The second round began
with a booming roll of the drum.
The chant rose in volume. Kakair
nok's right foot thumped hard
on the ground precisely at the same
moment of the first heavy drum
beat. A pause, and then a steady
beat—beat—beat.
The whaling captain issued forth a
triumphant cry as he gestured vig
orously and dramatically. Then I
realized suddenly that there was
something more to the dance
much more! Tears blurred my eyes
as I watched.
The Dance of Memory
Kakairnok was dancing to the
memory, of his departed parents.
There was a great sadness in the
dance in spite of its vigor. I could
see it fleetingly on his face and
eyes.
The whale he had caught was his
first one as captain of his own crew.
His parents had departed before
they could witness the great occas
ion. He seemed to say through his
dance:
“Behold, behold! My beloved
mother—my beloved father. I, Ka
kairnok, your son—I have caught
a whale—a great one! I am thank
ful-thankful . . .
“Tigara, your village—our vil
lage will eat!”
Kakairnok would have performed
the same way without anyone to
witness his adnce.
Grief
When it ended abruptly, he
slumped noticably. He walked slow
ly, directly toward me. He paused
a moment. I thought he was about
to say something, but he didn't.
Instead, he smiled faintly and sat
down to my right close to me. For
a moment he looked out over the
fog laden celebration grounds.
He learned over, his elbows on
his knees. His head bowed and his
hand came up to meet it.
He wept silently. I wept with
him—my brother, Kakairnok.