Ingalik Social Culture (Deg Hit'an, Deg Hitan, Deg Xit'an, Degexit'an, Kaiyuhkhotana Indians, Dene) [1 ed.]

Citation preview

NUNC COCNOSCO EX PARTE

THOMASJ BATA LIBRARY TRENT UNIVERSITY

Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2019 with funding from Kahle/Austin Foundation

https://archive.org/details/ingaliksocialculOOOOosgo

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY NUMBER 53

INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE CORNELIUS OSGOOD

NEW HAVEN PUBLISHED FOR THE DEPARTMENT OF ANTHROPOLOGY, YALE UNIVERSITY BY THE

YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS

1958

Trairl University Libra PETERBOROUGH, QMT.

f'JD.S'l

IRVING ROUSE Editor

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

PREFACE

T

IME passes with incredible quickness, and a lifetime soon disappears over

the hill. When my field work among the Ingalik had come to an end in the summer of 1937, I was happily confident that ten years given to the study of the Northern Athapaskans had produced satisfying results. The research had been exciting, if not always easy, and I was looking forward to a pleasanter region in which to reflect on the social characteristics of an alien community. I had begun the study of Chinese and had shifted the focus of my activity to a new area of research, but despite the fact that I undertook a community study in Yunnan the next year, by the end of 1939 I had completed the manuscript, Ingalik Material Culture, which was published in 1940. The reason for that volume appearing first in the series did not reflect a primary interest in technology; I simply found that a presentation of the physical pro¬ ductions of culture was a logical preliminary to writing about human behavior. It became increasingly apparent that I could not adequately set the stage for social interaction without referring to things, and therefore the things had first to be described. Life in a kashim is rather difficult to comprehend if one does not fully understand what kind of a shelter it is. Without feeling a necessity for haste, I intended to continue with the presentation of my data following the more or less regular routine of compiling reports. Trouble clouded the horizon, however, and war hampered work in China even before the devastation spread to disrupt the world everywhere. Priorities pushed aside the little-appreciated Athapaskans until, by the nineteen-fifties, my major interests were distantly removed from northern America. In the year 1953, circumstances impelled me to finish the descriptive reports on the Ingalik. Therefore I set about producing them, and by the spring of 1956, except for the analyses and commentaries, I had essentially completed the manu¬ scripts of the monographs on both social and mental culture. Then, with the inten¬ tion of checking on certain aspects of the wTork, as well as of adding to the data, I returned to Anvik for the third time. Certain inferences from my previous records were fortunately confirmed, but so little data were added to the present volume that discussion of the last visit in 1956 will be relegated to the monograph, Ingalik Mental Culture, which, it is hoped, will soon be forthcoming. It would perhaps be misleading to go further without specifically stating that the similarity of such cultures as those of the Ingalik and Tanaina to those of the adjacent Eskimo has been recognized. It does not seem desirable, however, to confuse the purpose and method of presenting one culture with those of a com¬ parative study, especially one of such importance as will probably bring about a change in the general conception of the cultural alignments of the two, widely spread linguistic stocks represented. Therefore, the temptation to draw suggestive generalizations has, at this time, been almost wholly suppressed. 3

4

PREFACE

Out of consideration for the practical consequences, the innumerable references to the Ingalik Material Culture, which might have been included for the purpose of defining objects that are mentioned, have been almost entirely eliminated. Suf¬ fice it to say that those who are imbued with a curiosity about any technological point will probably find satisfaction by consulting the “Index of Manufactures” in the above-mentioned volume and then examining the figures and accompanying descriptions. In this work on social culture, the illustrations pertain mostly to the ceremonials and consist largely of masks representing a selection of those in the Yale Peabody Museum. An effort has been made to depict both the group of masks that play a primary part in the ceremonies, and those that will illustrate the stylistic variations of the Ingalik woodcarver. It should be especially mentioned that the technical descriptions of these particular masks, inappropriate for the text and too extensive for the legends on the figures themselves, have been given in the list of “Text Figures.” As one who has grown old in this undertaking, I have some parental concern for the result. To contribute basic anthropological knowledge is a laborious task and perhaps not as emotionally exciting either to writer or to reader as the presenta¬ tion of theoretical opinions. Ethnography, considered as being primarily the de¬ scription of the cultures of nonliterate peoples, is peculiarly limited in time. It belongs essentially to a hundred year span that is drawing to a close, a period before which nothing technical was done, and after which probably no aboriginal cultures will remain. In this belief, I take it as fortunate to have gleaned what I could, and my awareness of the weaknesses in this work becomes less painful than it might otherwise be. Surely anyone who has tried to restore the image of bygone days by sucking the honeycomb of memory knows that it is easier to obtain sugar in the market place of a functioning culture. Here, if the sweetness be small, I hope that the flavor released in the process of refinement may be sometimes seductive and soothing in its effects on the reader. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Since this is the second of a series of reports on the Ingalik, the basic acknowledg¬ ments pertinent to the field work have already been made in the preface of the first. It is my privilege, however, to reiterate a tribute to my friend and principal informant, Billy Williams of Anvik. In some ways nothing is more difficult in ethnography than the reconstruction of long, complex, behavior patterns involving scores of people. The task is not easy even for the participant observer of a ceremony—and I have never attended one. Still, I have confidence that the descriptions given in this monograph correspond in most respects to empirical reality, and I would like to say why. I had spent many months, even years, among the Northern Athapaskans before my first visit to the Ingalik in 1934. Indians were not strange; their drums had reverberated through a quarter of my life. What I needed and sought for was an informant with a photo-

PREFACE

5

graphic memory and a lifetime of participation, a man of great curiosity, and above all one who had the power to communicate his experience—an art which involves language, philosophy, and friendship. After more than a hundred trials and failures, I found in Billy Williams such a man. Of the description of Ingalik ceremonies, more than ninety-five per cent came from his mouth, a fact which in no wise con¬ travenes the empirical validity of the data. In conveying a description with ac¬ curacy, I regard this Indian’s ability as highly as that of any man I have ever known. My judgment has been founded on a check of his statements. What he reported as true one day was repeated as true the next day, a month later, three years afterward, and—that which he could remember of the subject— as precisely when nineteen years had gone by. Not only were his statements compatible in time, but they were proven by tests for logical consistency, by their correspondence to material things, and by their agreement with the opinions of others. If I pro¬ voked other informants by purposefully describing some important segment of behavior erroneously, their corrections, conforming with the statements Billy Williams had given, reassured me; if on the other hand, my account was straight¬ forward and the occasional disagreement of other Indians was countered by a suggestion that they check with their friends, they most often returned with a look of surprise in their eyes to admit they were wrong. When, as it did happen, I was left with fundamental differences in the descriptions, the last words on the subject were usually the cold, indifferent conclusion of my compulsively accurate inform¬ ant, “Well maybe them fellows did that way.” Any man who esteems truth so highly deserves the utmost respect and I give it. After the information had been collected, it was benefited by the skills of various people. In the preparation of the text, I am indebted for the long appreciated editorial assistance of Mrs. Doris E. Irons. The drawings and maps demonstrate the skill of Shirley P. Glaser. To the Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research and to Dr. Paul Fejos I am thankful for support which made the writing of this work easier. My colleague, Leopold Pospisil, read the manuscript before my last trip to the field. Although I could not obtain the data that he suggested, his efforts leave me grateful. In conclusion, a silent nod to those nameless friends and teachers who have helped me most of all. Cornelius Osgood

Yale University, 1957

CONTENTS PAGE

Preface. Acknowledgments. Part One: Introduction. - The Ingalik. The Method. The Conceptual System. Acquiring the Data. Presenting the Data. - The Cultural Setting. Part Two: The Data. Village Activities. Life in the Kashim. Introduction. Sleeping. The working day. The “loved-fire”. The sweat bath. The evening meal. After dinner. Group Hunting and Fishing. The caribou surround. Lamprey fishing. The bear hunt. Spring camps. Making fish weirs. Catching beaver in nets. Sports and Games. Spring recreation. Summer recreation. Winter recreation. Wrestling. Shamanistic Practices and other Coercive Interventions. Councils. Blood revenge. The shaman. Trade and Warfare. Trade. Warfare. The Lesser Ceremonies and “Putting Down” for Prestige or Privilege. The feast of the eclipse. Feast of the first salmon. The wolverine feast. The wolf ceremony. 7

3 4

19 19 21 21

22 24 25 33 33 33 33 33 34 35

36 36 37 38 38 40 40 42 44 45 46 46 50 51 53 53 53 53 56 61 61 63 65 65 66 66

67

8

CONTENTS PAGE

The Eskimo bear ceremony. “Putting down” for first game. “Putting down” for a second name. “Putting down” for labrets. “Putting down” for a girl’s puberty. “Putting down” for a girl’s marriage. “Putting down” for the privilege of dancing. “Putting down” for first use, preparations, or manufacture. “Putting down” of “ice cream”. The Great Ceremonies: The Partner’s Potlatch. Introduction. Preliminary activities. Inviting the guests. The arrival of the guests. The potlatch ceremony. The second night. The Great Ceremonies: The Mask Dance. Introduction. Preliminary activities. Inviting the guests. The reception of the guests. The dance. The last night. The Great Ceremonies: The Animal’s Ceremony. Introduction. Organization. Principal performers. Properties. First night: 1st preliminary. Second night: 2nd preliminary. Third night: 1st for 1st corner. Fourth night: 2nd for 1st corner. Fifth night: 1st for 2nd corner. Sixth night: 2nd for 2nd corner. Seventh night: 1st for 3rd corner. Eighth night: 2nd for 3rd corner. Ninth night: 1st for 4th corner. Tenth night: 2nd for 4th corner. Eleventh night: 1st for door. Twelfth night: 2nd for door. Thirteenth night: 3rd for door. Fourteenth night: 4th for door. Fifteenth night: 1st of sequel. Sixteenth night: 2nd of sequel. Seventeenth night: 3rd of sequel.

68 69 69 69 71 71 71 71 72 73 73 73 74 76 77 78 81 81 81 83 87 87 95 96 96 97 99 102 104 108 108 110 110 Ill 113 114 116 118 118

121 122 123 130 132 133

CONTENTS

9

PAGE

The Great Ceremonies: The Bladder Ceremony. Introduction. The ceremony. The Great Ceremonies: The Doll Ceremony. Introduction. The paraphernalia. The ceremony. The legend. The Great Ceremonies: Potlatch for the Dead. Introduction. Preliminary activities. First night. Second night. Third night. Fourth night. The Great Ceremonies: The Hot Dance. Introduction. Preliminary activities. The dance. Death. Introduction. Causes of death. Types of disposal of the dead. Coffin burial: before kashim ceremony. Coffin burial: kashim ceremony. Coffin burial: following the kashim ceremony. Disposal of deceased’s property. Behavior of the mourners. Family Life. Around the House. The buildings. The people in the house. Areas of the house. Sleeping. Making fire. Preparation of food. Eating, visiting, and storytelling. Away from Home. Introduction. Between winter village and summer camp. Family hunting groups. Being Born. Pregnancy. Birth. The mother.

134 134 134 135 135 435 135

I37 138 138 138

I39 140 141 142 143 143 144 144 140 146 147 149

151 151 153 154 155 157 " ' 157 157 159 159 162 163 164 166 167 167 167 169 170 170 171 172

10

CONTENTS PAGE

The father. The baby. Growing Up. Feeding the child. Handling the child. Cleanliness and toilet training. Aggression. Punishment. Play. Education. Puberty. First menstruation. End of seclusion. Dangers of menstruation. Recurrent menstruation. Males in relation to puberty.

173 174 176 176 177 178 179 179 180 182 183 183 185 187 188 188

Marriage. The approach to marriage. The nuptial union. Residence. Child marriage. Remarriage. Polygyny and divorce. Wife exchange.,. .. — Interpersonal Relations. A Man and a Woman. Introduction. Love affairs. Sexual intercourse. Two Men or Two Women.

189 189 190 196 198 198 200 203 206 206 206 207 216 218

Aggression. Cooperation. Dependency relations. Partnerships. Intimacies. A Child and Another Individual. Aggression. Cooperation and privilege. Dependency relations. Intimacies. Categorical Relations. Medication. Joking relationships.

218 219 221 221 222 223 223 223 227 228 229 229 231

“Close relations”. 231 Miscellaneous. 231

CONTENTS

11

PAGE

Individual Behavior. Dressing and Washing. Women.

9^2

Men. Fishing, Hunting, and Gathering. Dip net fishing. At the jackfish traps. At the summer or whitefish traps. Seine net fishing. At the dog salmon traps. Fish spearing. Gill net fishing. At the side stream traps. At the winter or loche traps. At the blackfish traps. Fishing with a line. Caribou hunting. Moose hunting. Bear hunting. Beaver hunting. Muskrat hunting. Lynx snaring. Rabbit snaring. Killing porcupines. The hunting of other small animals. Trapping the wolf and wolverine. The snaring and shooting of birds. Gathering. Travel and transportation. Introduction. Travel alone. Packing. Manufacturing. Explanatory statement. Acquiring wood. Splitting wood. Child Play and Miscellaneous Aberrations. Introduction. Toys. Pets. Aberrations. Part Three: Analysis and Commentary. Introduction. The Kashim and Group Hunting and Fishing. Sports and Games.

234 236 236 236 237 237 238 238 239 240 241 241 242 242 243 244 244 245 245 245 245 246 247 247 248 250 250 250 254 255 255 255 256 257 257 257 259 261 264 264 266 267

232

232

12

CONTENTS PAGE

Shamanistic Practices. 269 Councils, Blood Revenge, Warfare, and Trade.27 0 The Lesser Ceremonies and “Putting Down” for Prestige or Privilege. 271 The Great Ceremonies. 272 Death. 274 Family Life. 276 Interpersonal Relations. 278 Individual Behavior. 279 Appendix: Notes from Rev. J. W. Chapman’s Weather Observations at Anvik. . 282

TEXT FIGURES (with explanations) PAGE

1. 2. 3. 4.

Distribution of the Northern Athapaskan Indians. Distribution of the Ingalik Indians. Nineteenth century villages in the Anvik-Shageluk and Bonasila areas. Partner’s potlatch paraphernalia. Upper left, Invitation stick tied to peg. Both pieces are plain, undecorated spruce, the invitation stick being 234 inches in length, the peg, 4% inches (529221). Bottom, Caribou baton (length 20% inches). The baton is plain spruce except for the feathers and three bands of red indi¬ cated by hatching (200526). 5. Mask and maskettes of mask dance. Top, Noise-maker mask (height 19 inches2). Hatching of nose, forehead, and chin indicates gray paint; black of upper lip and line around eyes is black paint; elsewhere natural spruce color. The thickness of the mask at the forehead is 1% inches, and the relief is % inch deep near the bridge of the nose. The mouth is deeply incised and the eyes drilled through. There are three almost identical masks in the set (29409). Lower left, Maskette used by messengers (height 5% inches). Hatching of nose and forehead indicates gray paint, black of upper lip and around eyes is penciled, elsewhere natural spruce color. The thickness of the maskette at the forehead is 1% inches, and the relief is % inch deep near the bridge of the nose. The mouth is deeply incised and the eyes drilled through. One of a pair (29413). Lower right, Maskette used to call guests at mask dance (height 5% inches). Hatching of nose, forehead, and peripheries indicates gray paint; black of upper lip and around eyes is penciled; elsewhere natural spruce color. The thickness of the maskette at the forehead is 1 inch, and the relief is inch near the bridge of the nose. The mouth and eyes are deeply incised. One of a pair (29416). 6. Mask dance mask and insignia. Top, Front and rear view of caribou mask (length 18% inches). Made from a hollowed out log split into two sections and then wired together after inserting two wedges to hold the mouth open. There are two cross bars, one to support the cardboard tongue of the caribou and one to be grasped by the wearer’s teeth. The ears were made later to replace those lost. The color is a washed-out gray except for the tongue which is maroon. Eyes may have been indi¬ cated by feathers. Hair from the neck of the caribou is fastened under the jaw (50176). Bottom, Salmon trout insignia (length 38 inches). Made from a hollowed log split in two and then nailed together with wood straps on the inside. The colors are black and washed-out white paint as indicated, the fins are cardboard painted black, and the eyes are drilled through. The circular hole for the fish’s “light” has not been used for a lamp and there is no vent above it. Metal screw eyes have been used for attaching the necessary lines. From Shageluk3 (200232). . 1 All catalogue numbers refer to specimens in the Yale Peabody Museum. 2 Measurements exclude feather or hair decorations unless otherwise noted. 3 All specimens unless otherwise noted were made at Anvik. 13

18 20 26

74

80

82

14

TEXT FIGURES PAGE

7. Frog mask of mask dance (height 19% inches). Projections above head represent legs. Very light wash of white over part of face not painted black. The thickness of the mask at the forehead is 1% inches, and the relief is % inch deep near the bridge of the nose. Eyes are bored through and the mouth is deeply incised. One of a set of three, one of which differs in having a wider face (29417). 83 8. Mask dance masks. Upper and lower left, Jumping-man mask (height 14% inches). Right half of face is painted black, the left is a washed-out white. The eyes and mouth are cut through. The maximum thickness of the mask (at the forehead) is 1% inches, not considering the area hollowed out, as is customary with masks to reduce weight. One of a pair (29425). Upper right, Cry-baby mask (length 15% inches). Black paint where indicated except that lines around eyes and mouth are penciled; other areas a washed-out white. The thickness of the mask at the forehead is 1% inches. Eyes are drilled through and the nose, fitted with a separate piece, projects 2% inches from face. Chin ornament symbolizes a labret. Round mouth indicates crying (29436). Lower right, Upriver people mask (height 10% inches). Nose and forehead gray; attached ears and centers of mouth and eyes red; cheeks rouged, over washed-out white; black outlining and connecting eyes penciled. The relief is % inch deep at the nose. Eyes and mouth are drilled through and ear pendants are green glass. The mask is unusually thin (1 inch), but is nonetheless hollowed out in the back (29438). 84 9. Mask dance masks. Upper left, One-eyed man (height 19% inches). Black paint as indicated; washed-out white on face and white dots on forehead. Marten head projects 3% inches out of forehead and is painted gray except for red eyes, nose, mouth; natural spruce-colored teeth are pegged into place. Marten head fas¬ tened by metal bolt through mouth with nut behind. Single eye is drilled through. Nose, made with separate piece, extends 2% inches from face. The thickness of the forehead is 2% inches (29445). Upper right, Half-man mask (length 20% inches). Black paint as indicated; elsewhere on face, the color is a washed-out white. Single eye is drilled through. Nose, made with a separate piece, extends 3 inches from face. The thickness at the forehead and mouth is 1% inches (29447). Bottom, Dog salmon mask (width 15% inches, not including border decoration). Black paint as indicated on forehead, nose, around eyes, and central of three bordering spruce strips. Face, a washed-out white; and the extending back¬ ground (shown by hatching), a washed-out green. Eyes and mouth are drilled through, the cheeks are rounded, and the spruce teeth are pegged in. The inner and outer spruce strip of the border are painted red. This decoration is fastened to the wood with spruce root line. The back of the mask has a wood piece to hold in the mouth. The greatest thickness of the mask is 1% inches at the nose, and the near-by relief is % inch. From Shageluk (200245). 86 10. Mask dance masks. Top, Owl mask (wingspread 16% inches). Painted black as indicated with dots of white paint. Eyes are painted white except for penciled pupils. The thickness of the mask at the forehead is 1% inches, and the eyes are % inch deep. Beak extends 2% inches out from face. Wings and tail are nailed onto back, beak screwed on (201233). Bottom, Crane mask (wingspread 29 inches). Painted red where indicated by hatching; face washed-out white with black rings painted around and connecting eyes. The thickness at both forehead and nose is

TEXT FIGURES

15

PAGE

2 inches. Face slopes off from the nose. Beak extends 7% inches and the legs 10

inches. Beak plugged in place and nailed from bottom. The back of the mask has a wood cross piece to hold in the mouth. From Shageluk (200239). 11. Mask dance masks. Upper left, Porcupine mask (length 20 inches). The mask is painted black as indicated, including the quills (outlined in drawing in order to see them). The central face has washed-out white paint, except for penciled lines around and connecting the eyes, and some red on the eyes themselves, which are drilled through. The cheeks and eyes are in low relief. The porcupine’s head also has red eyes and mouth, both of which are incised. The quills, like the ears, are of spruce and pegged into place. The legs are nailed into the sides. Except for the projecting quills, the maximum thickness of the mask is about 1% inches (29452). Upper right, Fox mask (length 24 inches). Hatching of mask indicates red paint; the end of the tail and central face bears gray paint. The cheeks and eyes are in low relief and the rings around and connecting the eyes are penciled. The eyes of the fox and of the central head, and the mouth of the latter, are incised. The legs are set into the sides and nailed in place. The thickness of the flat body is 2 inches (29451). Bottom, Raven mask (wingspread 18% inches). The mask is painted black as indicated; the face is washed-out white with black penciled lines around and connecting the eyes. The band across the tail is gray. There is red in the eyes and in the nostrils and mouth of the beak which extends 4% inches. The eyes are bored through and the relief is % inch deep at the forehead and bridge of the nose (29426). 12. Masks of mask dance and animal’s ceremony. Upper left, Probably an old woman mask of mask dance (height 13 inches). Face painted cream color except for the black indicated on forehead, around and connecting eyes, and the tattoo line beneath mouth. Hatching bordering the face indicates red. The eyes and mouth are incised through. The thickness of the mask at the forehead is 1% inches, and the depth of relief at the nose is % inch. The mask is trimmed with caribou hair. On the reverse, a horizontal stick is nailed to be held in the wearer’s mouth, and knotted tie strings pass through holes at the edge of the mask near the eye lines (50175). Upper right, Jumping-man (?) mask of mask dance (height 10% inches). Hatching indicates red on a washed-out white face bordered and spotted with black as indicated, including line around and connecting the eyes. This mask is almost a right angle triangle in cross section. The mouth is deeply in¬ cised and the eyes cut through. A horizontal stick to be grasped in the mouth is nailed across the back, and knotted tie strings pass through holes at the edge of the mask near the eye lines. From Shageluk (200233). Lower left, Throw-itinside mask of animal’s ceremony (height 9% inches). This mask, with more than usual modeling, is painted cream except for the red ears which are lashed to the side of the head. Mouth and eyes are cut through and the latter have penciled rings which are unconnected. The twisted nose is pegged on and ex¬ tends 1% inches from the face at the end. The maximum thickness of the mask is 3 inches (52422). Lower right, Probably an old man mask of mask dance (height 10 inches). The face is painted cream color except for the black on the forehead and chin, the penciled mustache, eyebrows, and lines around eyes, and a little red on the edges of the eyes. The eyes and mouth have been cut through the

88

90

16

TEXT FIGURES PAGE

mask. This is a highly modeled, old mask to which rabbit fur trimming had been added. Two holes were drilled at each side, probably for strings. There are two holes in the forehead for feathers (?), but these have been drilled recently (i.e. ca. 1934). The maximum thickness of the mask (at the forehead) is 3 inches (29437). 92 13. Mask dance finger masks (maskoids). Top, Finger mask (diameter 3% inches, thickness % inch). Background of disk washed-out white paint; the center and bot¬ tom circles shown by hatching are painted gray; the other two by hatching, red; and the two black circles, black. The handle bored for insertion of finger is natural spruce color. Bunched ptarmigan feathers and tassels of caribou hair project from the disk (29461). Center, Finger mask (diameter 3% inches, thickness % inch). The face is painted gray encircled by red (darker hatching). The eyes, drilled through the wood, are encircled and connected by a black line. The eyebrows, nose, and mouth are delineated by carving, not painting. The handle is unpainted. Seven feathers to be inserted in the border are not shown (29460). Lower left, Finger mask (diameter 3)4 inches, thickness % inch). The reticulated disk, except for the handle, was first painted cream; the areas shown by darker hatching were then painted green, those by lighter hatching, red. The caribou hair decorations are bound around projecting nails with red wool yarn (25428). Lower right, Finger mask (diameter 3X inches, thickness % inch). The disk has five holes bored through it and, except for the natural spruce handle, was first painted cream, with green added to the areas shown by hatching. Exterior decorations are caribou hair. As in all finger masks shown, each is one of a pair, and the reserve side matches the obverse (29459). 94 14. Animal’s ceremony masks. Upper left, Red female mask (height 11 inches). This mask with extremely low relief is painted red all over except for four black pen¬ ciled tattoo lines on the chin. The eyes and mouth are very lightly incised. The nose bead is red glass. The maximum thickness of the mask is only % inch. It is paired with an almost identical red male mask (29456). Upper right, Big brother black mask (height 11 inches). This mask is painted completely black. The eyes and mouth are bored through. There are incised ridges on the forehead and an incised line around the mouth. The nose, wavy in profile, is constructed of a separate piece extending at the tip 2)4 inches. The labret plugs are pieces of spruce plugged into the mask. It is paired with the little brother black mask. The thickness of the mask at the forehead is 2 inches, and the relief is % inch below the forehead. The maximum thickness of the mask (at nose) is 3)4 inches (29453). Lower left, Comes-in-to-throw mask (height 11 inches). The face is dirtied with black paint and has red on the ears, cheeks, eyes, and end of the nose. The thickness of the mask at the forehead is 2 inches, and the relief is % inch deep below the forehead. The eyes and mouth are cut through. The nose is constructed of two pieces and is 2)4 inches above the Up at the end. The cheeks are heavily modeled. The ears are tied to the sides of the head. Caribou hair has been added to the head. (29457). Lower right, Head-down-in-the-hole mask (height 12)4 inches). Horizontally hatched areas on this mask are heavily smeared with black as are the centers of the eyes; the remainder of the face and the inside

TEXT FIGURES

17

PAGE

15.

16.

17.

18. 19. 20.

of the mouth are smeared with red. The thickness of the mask at the forehead is 2 inches, and the relief is 1 inch deep below the forehead. The nose, which con¬ sists of an added piece, extends almost 4 inches from the lip. The cheeks are slightly modeled. Rabbit fur has been added on the head (29458). Interior of kashim decorated for the animal’s ceremony. The ceremonial hoop, decorated with feathers and with red paint (indicated by hatching), is sus¬ pended from the roof. The “middle” piece (left) and one of the “side” pieces (center rear next to lamp stand) are stuck into the floor. The cover boards have been removed from the fireplace. Paraphernalia of the animal’s ceremony. Left, “Middle” piece of animal’s ceremony. The length of the model shown is 6 inches whereas an actual specimen is about 5 or 6 feet (200529). Right, “Side” piece of animal’s ceremony. The length of the model shown is 6 inches whereas an actual specimen is about 10 feet. The holes for tying at the top and bottom do not appear in the model (200528). Animal’s ceremony paraphernalia of the red maskers. Top left, Toy bow (length 14% inches) and arrow (length 12 inches) (25920). Top center, Toy called slide-up-anddown. The diameter of the model shown is 3% inches whereas an actual specimen should be about 6 inches and have two cross pieces (52915). Top right, Miniature paddle (length 12 inches) (52917). Center, Symbolic lance (length 11 inches, in¬ cluding feathers) (200527). Bottom, symbolic fish trap fence. The model is 2 by 12 inches whereas an actual specimen should be about 6 by 30 inches (52919). All the above specimens are plain spruce wood ornamented with feathers and with bands of red paint indicated by hatching. Interior of small winter house. The view is toward the front of the house as though the rear wall had been cut away to gain the perspective. Chart showing season and method of catching fish. Chart showing the season and method of catching animals significant as food.

98

100

103

112 160 280 281

a

.2 "3

a

HH

0 c3

M QQ 03 Q* a3 ^3 a t-.

a ’-4^ 0 X> .o

O t—i

18

PART ONE: INTRODUCTION THE INGALIK HIS volume continues the reconstruction of Ingalik life according to the JL plan indicated in the first part of the work entitled Ingalik Material Culture.1 The Ingalik are an Athapaskan-speaking people living in the area of the lower Yukon River and in adjacent sections of the Innoko and Kuskokwim rivers, Alaska. This region is shown graphically on the accompanying maps (Figs. 1 and 2). As has been previously recorded, the Ingalik have been subdivided primarily on linguistic evidence into four units as follows: 1. Anvik-Shageluk group—centering around the villages of those names. 2. Bonasila group—centering around the village of that name. 3. Holy Cross-Georgetown group—centering around the villages of those names. 4. McGrath group—occupying the drainage of the upper Kuskokwim River. It is important to emphasize that the data of this monograph come entirely from the first of these subdivisions, the Anvik-Shageluk people. There is little reason to believe, however, that there was ever much cultural variation between the peoples of the first three subdivisions. Since a general description of the Ingalik country, as well as a survey of the historic contacts and special considerations of the early tribal distribution and population, has previously been presented,2 there is need for only a brief summary of this background. We may begin by recalling to the reader that Alaska was Russian territory in the eighteenth century. It was 1830, however, before contact was probably made with the Ingalik at the Kuskokwim River. Then in 1833, the trading redoubt named St. Michael was built on Cape Stephens in Norton Sound near the mouth of the Yukon River. Starting from this outpost during the follow¬ ing winter, the Creole explorer Glazunov with four Russian companions crossed over the portage to the headwaters of the Anvik River. This stream they followed down to its junction with the Yukon, and there spent three or four days in the particular village which is the central point of this study. This was exactly fifty years after these fur traders from Asia had established the first permanent Russian settlement in America, Three Saints Bay on Kodiak Island, which was founded in 1784. While the Russians expanded their trading contacts north and eastward, the British were directing their interests north and westward. Interior Alaska was so large, however, that the opposing forces did not meet there until the year 1863. If there were a possibility then that competition might have developed into com¬ mercial conflict, it disappeared with the purchase of Alaska from Russia by the United States in 1867. 1 This publication appeared as Yale University Publications in Anthropology, no. 22, New Haven, 1940, and will hereafter be referred to merely by title. 2 Ingalik Material Culture, 33-50, 478-481. 19

20

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Fig. 2. Distribution of the Ingalik Indians.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

21

Under United States sovereignty, the alien influences on the Ingalik were un¬ usually restrained, and having reached a point not much beyond minimal impact, appear to have stayed more or less static. A one-man trading post was founded at Anvik sometime between 1867 and 1880. Then in 1887 a small Episcopalian mis¬ sion added another touch of western civilization in the same settlement. The following year two Catholic fathers made a permanent home on the Yukon, about forty miles below Anvik, at an Ingalik village which they renamed Holy Cross. The gold rush which came with the turn of the century churned up some activity on the river, but the yellow water soon flowed quietly again. Even the expenditure of wealth and energy on World War II had relatively little effect on the peaceful river. Perhaps the most significant reason for the conservative position of the AnvikShageluk Indians with respect to culture change lies in their being off the main lines of communications, the world streams of activity. As has been indicated, these aborigines lived near the end points and junction of two separate European migrations, movements which lost vitality at the point of contact, even shrinking back from each other like two eyeless creatures in the night. Not an area noted for trade, the Ingalik country produced more of food than of fur. Even the missions proved to be a little too isolated for preferential treatment, while the gold rush contributed hardly more than a multiplication of the steamboats and scows that wheezed and whispered along the waterfront. Then at last came the airplane creating suburbia of those isolated population centers whose names distance and difficult journeys had made legendary. But airplanes seldom had reason to stop near Anvik and, in replacing the river transports, became only the cause of greater quiet and peace in this Ingalik land of muskrats and salmon. THE METHOD The Conceptual System

An attempt was made in the preceding volume on Ingalik culture to state ex¬ plicitly the conceptual system which determined the manner of presenting the ethnographic data, even to the extent of including a reasonable indication of the ontological prejudices involved.3 This presentation was in part somewhat refined in a paper written immediately afterward but not published until a decade later.4 These brief studies are mentioned as the background for the summary statement of theoretical approach which follows and for the opportunity to reaffirm the belief that a comprehension of a theorist’s ontological position is necessary to under¬ stand the higher levels of theory in any branch of learning. All research is in the broadest sense a search for knowledge and within the range of the knowable, primarily for that part which we call true. It should be apparent to all concerned with this quest that there are different varieties of truth or, as one might say, different ways of determining what is true. For some individuals 3 Ingalik Material Culture, 25-29. 4 Cornelius Osgood, “Culture: Its Empirical and Non-empirical Character,” Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, vol. 7, no. 2, (Albuquerque, N. M., 1951), pp. 202-214.

22

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

(depending upon their ontological positions) it may be better to admit that we determine only approximations of the truth and come to these by different means. In any case, truth is the essence of the matter. In most scientific disciplines the basic data of the subject are derived prepon¬ derantly in one way, that is by the empirical method which results in one kind of truth, or an approximation of it. This method is accepted so unthinkingly that the majority of scientists go about their business without combing any epistemo¬ logical hair. Facts are simply facts. The knowledge sought by the ethnographer, on the other hand, in addition to empirical facts almost always includes people’s abstract ideas, ideas about gods and kinship and a myriad of other things which cannot be known empirically. These ideas become part of the basic data of an¬ thropology and in that sense true anthropological knowledge. Thus there are two fundamentally different kinds of truth which make up the anthropologist’s data, not to mention the even greater varieties involved in his own interpretations and theories. As a quick survey of ethnographic monographs will suffice to show, the anthro¬ pologist has consistently ignored these distinctions as to the truth of his data, mixing the lot in a biblical jumble. Perhaps it may come to mind as an explana¬ tion that the truth of the ideas used as data does not matter since it is the rela¬ tionships of the data with which the anthropologist is concerned. In other words, to determine the fact of whether or not what the informant believes is true is not the purpose of ethnography. This explanation if taken as resolving the problem results only in a dead end of confusion, however, for it must be realized that we are not concerned at this time with whether the ideas presumed to be in the mind of an informant are true (empirically or otherwise), but rather whether the ideas in the ethnographer’s mind truly correspond to those in the informant’s. To rec¬ ognize the truth of what I am thinking is no doubt more difficult than to see print on the page, but if both truths are comprehended they should still be distinguished as data of different epistemological orders. It is out of respect for the relative validity of knowledge that I divide ethno¬ graphic data into two epistemological types, the empirical and the non-empirical. The non-empirical data may be spoken of as mental culture, and further theoretical considerations of it deferred to the volume on that subject. The empirical data, however, have been subdivided into two varieties of data, first, those that are derived from perceptions of objects more or less static, and second, those that are derived from perceptions of objects involving motion—or more specifically, human beings behaving. These aggregates of data we refer to respectively as material and social culture, and it is the last on which our interest centers here. Acquiring the Data

By definition, the data of social culture comprise only perceptible phenomena of culture, and it would be the ideal situation if enthnographers could observe all

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

23

of the behavior which they report. Unfortunately, technical difficulties in field work parallel those in scientists’ laboratories at home. Despite time and devotion, the enthnographer will be able to perceive only a part of the behavior which de¬ mands his attention. Much of the remainder he will derive through a substitute observer-informant, a procedure which leads to the complication illuminated by the question: “Has the informant actually perceived what he claims?” For the experienced ethnographer on guard against his own illusions, there are numerous ways of checking the empirical validity of informants’ statements so that in the end the error is only one of degree. Dealing with static material in the previous volume, the technique of having an Indian make most of the unavailable and unseen items seemed a fairly satisfactory and standard solution, especially when one’s best informant knew how to construct them and would tell if there were known variations, as well as if and when he veered away from the standard technique of manufacture. In recording social culture, however, there are two special aspects to the problems. First, human behavior often involves a number of individuals in movements which render translation into exact verbal descriptions difficult in the best of all possible circumstances, and second, informants tend so often to idealize their behavior that when they are asked about actual occurrences, they cannot distinguish fact from the socially approved dream. Further, in attempting ethnographic reconstruction, as in this case among the Ingalik, the problem is even more complicated and not always satisfactorily re¬ solvable. Reporting on the aboriginal behavior in a community which in large degree is made up of individuals no longer behaving in the aboriginal way, even though most remember it, requires a special refinement of field work skills. When restoring the past, the ethnographer is not only forced more frequently to depend upon the opinions of informants but on the opinions of informants’ attempting to remember what has ceased to exist rather than what recurs. As can be readily appreciated, in a functioning culture an informant’s assurances of the empirical truth of his statements can be tested if the ethnographer checks them by observa¬ tion. In reconstructions, however, validation is of necessity indirect, coming through analogous situations previously experienced by the ethnographer, as well as from logical inferences of the probable reality of what is offered as empirical fact. Ob¬ viously, error can be much more frequent than in the study of a functioning culture, and if one moves on to a concern with variation within the culture, the difficulties multiply geometrically. Be that as it may, there is no need to justify reconstructions, for if the ethnog¬ raphy is wanted, facing these difficulties is not a matter of choice. Finally, with respect to a demonstration of our method of presenting culture, the degree of accuracy of the data in a particular monograph is of secondary importance. As for the method itself, there may very well be more significant and useful ways of writing ethnography, in which case it can only be hoped that this experiment may act as a catalyst in producing them.

24

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53 Presenting the Data

Given the method, and admitting its limitations as applied to ethnographic reconstructions, we can now turn to the presentation of our data on Ingalik social culture. Continuing the same interest in questions of validity which were raised with respect to the whole range of culture, it would seem obvious in thinking of the social part that to describe the behavior of one individual alone is simpler than recording the interaction of two. Going on, we see that the technical problems seem to increase roughly with the number of people involved in a unified social situation. It follows that the data on interpersonal expressions of social culture may be less accurate, if not less comprehensible, than a report on an individual’s behavior. On the other hand, to record the behavior of a crowd becomes, both technically and epistemologically, a procedure of almost a different order in which one either describes the behavior of selected key individuals or collates records of indirect observations—the records of other men or of machines. Machines are not substitutes, however. The motion-picture camera, for example, a mechanism requiring great technical and artistic gifts on the part of its manipulator, offers little more than an expensive recapitulation of what is already known to the op¬ erator. The vital task of interpretive selection must be undertaken first. Reviewing the compounding of problems with reference to the accuracy of records, the idea of allocating the data according to the numerical complexity of social groups suggests a reasonable plan for continuing the basic method of epistemological distinctions. The ethnographer will remember how often in any system of organizing mono¬ graphs, the units of subject matter seem to fall logically into categories of the num¬ ber of people involved, as though culturally, and even sometimes biologically, determined. Their social significance in the quantitative sense is a correlate of these groupings by definition, and the organizational treatment illuminates the role which various behavior patterns play in the specific culture. These values should speak for themselves through the presentation which follows. The data on social culture has been divided under four main headings. The first is “village activities” which, beyond what the words suggest, is a category under which will be found the information on activities primarily involving three or more individuals who are not members of the same household. The second term, “family life”, refers to that behavior which primarily involves three or more in¬ dividuals all belonging to the same household. The third main category has been called “interpersonal relations” and pertains to behavior essentially involving only two individuals, irrespective of their age, sex, or location. We are thus left with the fourth and final heading, “individual behavior,” which designates the behavior of only one person at one time. Such behavior is, of course, not unique and is shared in the sense that it may well be intermittently repetitive as well as it may correspond to the individual behavior of others. Inevitably, as in all cases of presenting ethnography, this scheme is an ideal one and raises a number of problems in practice. Sometimes the social unit with which one is dealing has flimsy limits in space and time yet it may not be reasonable

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

25

to excise certain interpersonal events from a specific social continuum. The ques¬ tion may also be raised as to how much interaction characterizes the behavior of two people as interpersonal. Three men sitting on a bank silently fishing is some people’s notion of a social affair. These details need not do more than excite a slight curiosity, however, and examples on which to speculate will appear fre¬ quently. Another methodological concern we may have is with the secondary ideational content of the descriptions of behavior. Again, on practical grounds, it seems de¬ sirable to present some of the native ideas which are coordinate with the behavior in order to make the situations more intelligible to the reader. This is true particu¬ larly when such ideas have little meaning if disassociated from the behavior. Some repetition may consequently be involved in the volume on mental culture, just as some repetition of the behavior described in the material culture volume will show up in this one. These repetitions should be valuable in affording a desirable new perspective on the data. Whereas the presentation of the behavior of individuals in a functioning culture can be straightforward description, it has been deemed wise to be sometimes devious in reconstruction. Thus when the data seems empirically valid to the ethnographer, the information is offered as fact. In other cases, where there are uncertainties of one kind or another, the data are presented as told by the informant, frequently in the form of historical accounts or stories offered in evidence of events. Such evidence when not believed by the informant has not been so used in this volume, of course, and also it has not been used when the significant parts could be refuted by the ethnographer. Nevertheless, certain elements are open to doubt as empirical facts, and others are certainly non-empirical, if true in any sense at all, but these occasional embellishments cannot be removed without destroying the meaningful nexus of the whole. In any event, at least the reader can judge for himself and thus the ethnographer is saved from mistakes. Besides, some of these story accounts make pleasant reading and give a semblance of life to his often monotonous writing. THE CULTURAL SETTING To anticipate the presentation of Ingalik behavior by a brief sketch of the AnvikShageluk community should provide an enlivening background for the data, just as a stage with its drops and wings gives a sense of reality to the theater. That the attempt to do so is somewhat imaginative must be realized, for the ancient buildings, the costumes, the birch bark canoes, all have long disappeared from the river bank and even the river has changed. The recovery of the natural setting is not difficult, however, and we have the terse but vitally important statement by Glazunov describing Anvik on his visit in 1834.6 Even for the rest, the stuff we shall use is not all dream. The Yukon, greatest of Alaskan waterways, flows over a thousand miles west¬ ward from the Canadian springs which first feed it, until it almost reaches the ‘ Ingalik Material Culture, 44.

26

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Fig. 3. Nineteenth Century Villages in the Anvik-Shageluk and Bonasila Areas.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

27

Bering Sea. Then abruptly it meets a mountain range and turns southward to parallel the coast of Norton Sound while spreading out its silt-laden waters in a search for the ocean. Not far above the point where it loops around a high ridge and escapes, the long river is remforced by two tributaries, the Anvik and the Innoko. The latter, meaning “in the woods,” drains a large area to the eastward and is connected to the Yukon by a slough some seventy-five miles above its main confluence, thus forming a huge island in the river. The Anvik flows into the Yukon through its right or west branch opposite the middle of this island, a pure jade stream purveying the melted snow and rains from the foothills of the range which parallels the great river. The other streams in the area are of minor importance. The limits of the larger waterways alternate between high banks and low areas filled with willows and scrub poplars, neither of which make attractive village sites, the former because of the climbing up and down which would be required, and the latter because of the danger from floods. At intervals, however, there are small open areas at a safe level above the water, and occasionally there are larger flats, such as may be naturally adapted for a group of human habitations. Such sites are most frequently the correlates of the mouths of tributary rivers. All of this country has hot days in summer but the heat is rarely a burden. More troublesome is the rain which seems to concentrate in August but is part of a pattern of precipitation that is relatively heavy throughout the year. Prevailing winds billow down the rivers from the north, and in the fall the air begins to blow cold, giving warm-blooded things concern for their comfort. Most of the birds spread their wings and fly south. Snow covers the land, and the small rivers and lakes freeze hard while the Yukon in its own good time piles up a frosting of jagged ice.6 Midwinter is cold enough to inhibit the movement of animals, but the cold is not the clear, bitter stillness of central Alaska. Mild spells occur, bringing rain and slush to the icy crust of the river. Soft winds sing in from the south and the waters of spring run everywhere. The great river writhes with the weight of the rains and the melting until it finally disgorges its gut water in a crescendo of ex¬ ploding ice, frightening the animals already excited with birth pangs of spring and their own fecundity. Bears come out of their holes, birds fly back from the southlands, and the million salmon start on their upstream journeys. In the old days there were Indian villages, it is said, in all the intervals along the main rivers, small villages where good space was limited and larger ones where a spreading level could be cleared. The principal settlements had names, but in between and only a few miles apart nestled the summer fishing camps, their tran¬ sitory designations as “Someone’s place of dwelling” lost in the anonymity of time. It is probable that the “big town” of the Anvik-Shageluk group of Ingalik was always near the junction of the Anvik and the Yukon rivers, an ideal spot for 6 Snow is expected in the last half of September; the Anvik River usually freezes in Octo¬ ber, and the Yukon, one to five weeks later. Normally, the ice runs in both rivers in May. See Appendix.

28

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

building homes, for fishing, and for meeting travelers along the Yukon as well as those who took the portage trail down the Anvik and over the big island to Shageluk and the interior. Anvik in the little local sense was a crossroads in the primeval wilderness, a metropolis of between one and two hundred people.7 As one viewed the in-group world from this crossroads, one saw fish camps, sum¬ mer villages, and winter settlements stretched along the Anvik, the YYikon, and Shageluk Slough, just as from an old Vermont river town the tributary streams lead one to clusters of houses (Fig. 3). Going up the Anvik, one reached on the left limit,8 about seven miles from the mouth, a summer fishing village known as the “Place-where-something-is-left.”9 Continuing another three miles one found a second group of summer houses on the opposite bank called “Village-at-the-end,” possibly referring to the “end” of the “Place-where-something-is-left.” Somewhat farther on the left limit, but below what is known as the Long Portage, was “Red-stone,” the first village regularly occupied in both winter and summer. Well above “Red-stone” on the right bank was another summer and winter settlement called “Spruce-branches-shaking-in-the-current” for reasons the reader can easily imagine. A lone Indian in a canoe by dint of hard paddling and some difficult poling could reach this place from the Anvik mouth in about ten hours. About two more days of canoeing brought one to “Under-the-rocks” on the left bank between Swift River and Otter Creek, the most distant of the in-group vil¬ lages.10 Otter Creek was part of the regular route to both St. Michael and Unalakleet on Norton Sound. This region of the Ingalik territory was distinguished by the large numbers of caribou around the headwaters of the Anvik River and by the fact that every winter the Eskimo came peacefully over the portage from Norton Sound to trade. Returning to the Anvik mouth, a much faster journey, and going up the Yukon about four miles and then crossing over to the left bank one came to “Up-trail,” a winter village so named because it was the end of the regular route across the island to Shageluk and other settlements along the Slough. Back across the Yukon and almost opposite “Up-trail” stood “Chopped-off,” a summer and winter village named because of a large tree from which all the lower branches had been removed, leaving a tassel of green at the top. Again on the island side, there was another 7 “Anvik” is not an Ingalik name and is presumably of Eskimo origin. The Ingalik term for the Anvik River is gacarjed, or “overflow” (as when water runs over the ice in the early fall). The mouth of the Anvik—and consequently the village-—is called gada?7e0ca-g(a), or “Mouth of the Overflow River.” For population data pertinent to the time of contact (1834), see Ingalik Material Culture, 479. 8 “Left limit” here, as is consistent with customary usage, is determined as one faces down¬ stream. 9 The locations of no longer existing villages on the map (Fig. 3) are somewhat hypothet¬ ical. There were also some houses on the opposite shore. 10 Whether this village and the one below it were on one limit or the other is uncertain.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

29

winter village about twelve miles above the Anvik mouth. This place, on a piece of land projecting into the Yukon, was reasonably called “Current-point.”11 Surveying the scene south of the mouth of the Anvik, a break appeared in the intermittent continuity of villages, there being no permanent ones above the Bonasila River,12 or on that river itself, or, for that matter, on the right bank of the Yukon below until one reached Holy Cross. One of the main settlements of the Bonasila people, called “Burning-man” because of a cremation which took place there, was on the big island directly across from their summer village “River-mouth-island” at the entrance of the Bonasila River. They also had three or more named villages on the left bank below “Burning-man,” such as “Under-the-birches,” “Kaiakcreek” (from whence in high water a slough ran all the way to Shageluk), and “Black-banks,” so called from the dark sand there. These places were all occupied in winter by Indians of the Bonasila group of Ingalik. Some Anvik-Shageluk people stayed near their Bonasila friends at “River-mouth-island,” however, just as Bonasila people mixed with those of the Holy Cross-Georgetown group at a settle¬ ment near the lower end of the big island made by Shageluk Slough. Returning to “Up-trail” and crossing the big island (which is only possible in winter), we reach the Innoko River about twenty miles away. From that point south are a series of villages of the so-called Shageluk people.13 Upriver, however there are no settlements until Hologochakat is reached, where the people linguisti¬ cally belong to the Koyukon Athapaskans but are culturally aligned with the AnvikShageluk group of Ingalik Athapaskans. The first of the Shageluk villages going downstream is now the only remaining settlement of any consequence. It is on the left bank, squeezed between the river and a small lake. The Ingalik name for it is “Rotten-fish.” Zagoskin14 called it Tlegoshitno (a close transcription of the Indian word), the missionaries termed it “Fishtown” or “Schoolhouse,” and it now appears on the maps as Shageluk. The winter trail continues from there to the Iditarod River. Within sight on the opposite shore below Shageluk is a village called “Thewater-goes-around-it.” In 1956 there were only a half-dozen familes residing there. Zagoskin lists it as Iletenleiden (an identifiable transcription of the Indian term) and indicates that in his time (1844), this settlement with a population of a hundred was much the largest place in the district. It is also almost certainly the village formerly referred to locally as the Junction. The third settlement of the district bore the name of “Steep-on-the-other-side” and was located on the right limit 11 “Current-point” was directly across from a village existing in 1937 twelve miles above Anvik. Camps above this point were occupied primarily by Koyukon Athapaskans wintering at Hologochakat. 12 Bonasila is an Ingalik word but no descriptive connotation could be remembered. 13 The appellation, in a sense, is a misnomer because the Shageluk Slough, from which the term derives, properly ends at the Innoko River; but contrariwise, the Innoko River is some¬ times conceived of as emptying into Shageluk Slough, in which case the Shageluk villages are on Shageluk Slough. Shageluk is not an Ingalik name and sounds as though it were Eskimo. 14 For Zagoskin’s list of villages, see Ingalik Material Culture, 479.

30

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

about two miles below the last mentioned. The site was entirely grown over with willows in 1956, but there was a fish camp across from it under the shadow of a sizable hill. After two more miles one comes to the fourth village named “Branchesto-put-in-one-place,” but only an almost inpenetrable maze of willows remains on the left shore where the village once stood. On the opposite bank is an old house recently abandoned. If one continues another five miles, one reaches the former village of “Big-eddy” called by some missionaries “Swift Water.” The site is on a relatively high right bank, now grown over with tall trees. Beyond these there were several more villages including “Among-the-birches” on the right bank and “Island-village,” once a considerable settlement on the upper end of the largest island (at least in that section) of the Innoko River. Besides all these localities designated by names, there were numerous fish camps where a family or two lived during the summer. The summer villages, either ad¬ jacent to the winter villages or separate from them, were always smaller than the winter ones because the people spread out to take advantage of the best fishing sites. Summer villages were easily recognizable by their commonest buildings, the willow smoke houses, almost on the beach and standing aboveground like all other summer shelters. Sometimes summer houses were built on lower land directly in front of the winter ones but always with the smoke houses nearest the beach because of the danger of fire which, spreading, might envelop the high caches behind. Such contiguous summer construction did not block off the view from the winter dwellings, however, since the latter had the advantageous perspective of the necessarily elevated locations which secured them from floods. One special kind of locality must be drawn into the picture of Ingalik habitation sites. These were the spring camps called “canoe villages” set up in spots selected as fisheries on small lakes. To these, the people sledded their canoes before the ice broke up, returning in them on the spring flood, a procedure responsible for giving such villages their collective name. Winter settlements, although having the largest population, were less conspicuous than the summer ones because the buildings were constructed half under the ground. Abandoned house sites stretched the area of activity somewhat, but less than a score of dwellings could shelter two hundred individuals and few settlements, if any, comprised quite that number. If in one sense, the total population of the Anvik-Shageluk group seems small, being nearer five hundred than a thousand, there were still too many Indians too greatly spread out for any one individual to know them all. Before concluding our sketch of the cultural setting, it may be helpful to describe one settlement, letting it represent a specific place in which we will try in some measure to reincarnate the social life of the Ingalik. In the process, we shall slip from the past tense to the present as an adjustment to having moved from the present time to a year long past. If there are those who will look askance at this procedure, let them remember that such a shamanistic performance is quite Athapaskan.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

31

“Anvik-mouth,” which we have taken as the center of the stage in describing Ingalik life, was a charming place from many points of view. One can see how the clear green river had countless centuries before come down from the Anvik moun¬ tains to within a few hundred feet of the Yukon, there to be blocked and deflected southward by a low ridge. Then about three miles more the river rushed in urgent necessity until, stopped by a hill, it burst through the bank into the Yukon. The result of these efforts as seen looking northward from that hill in the nine¬ teenth century showed a stretch of the narrow river, silvery green like the luster on an ancient lead-glazed vase, running side-by-side with the great mud-colored mistress of all Alaskan waters. Then just above the confluence, the smaller stream bent back as though gaining strength for the break-through. It was this curving whiplash that provided the Ingalik with a village site since the little river made a clean concave cut against the far bank, leaving a level place of just the right height for building houses, and at the same time drew away sufficiently from the end of the peninsula to supply a beach for a summer fish camp. On the flat curve of land stretching along the west bank of the Anvik from beneath the small hill, we must conjure up a kashim and a row of winter houses, one after the other, not in an exact line but in a line adjusted to convenience and the specific requirements of digging large holes. There are perhaps ten or twelve of these houses distinguishable by the sloping pole entryways emerging riverward from dome-shaped dirt-covered piles on which clumps of grass are growing. Some distance behind the houses stand clusters of the small log houses called caches, each mounted on four high posts to lift them above the reach of hungry animals. Between and in front of the houses, as well as extending to the edge of the bank, are a miscellaneous aggregate of structures that at first glance look like the supports for caches, but supports made from less heavy posts and crossbeams. Their function is obvious, however, since on top of some rest sleds and others, canoes. Looking across the Anvik we see on the opposite shore similar sets of posts and crossbeams, but larger and crossed with poles which to the sophisticated eye immediately designate fish drying racks. Directly back of them and facing the river is a line of rectangular gable-roofed smoke houses with broad fronts made of spruce poles. One of these with a single side looks half-finished as though the maker tired in the process of building. Behind the smoke houses is an irregular string of dwell¬ ings, one or two imposing in size with their broad fronts displaying the vertical pattern of costly spruce plank walls. Most of the other houses are faced with spruce bark, but in one or two, split cottonwood logs or just horizontal strips of birch bark have been used for walls. There is the deserted look about the summer village which comes each year when winter is expected. We can see old lady “Basket-shaker” who prefers staying in her little mat-covered summer house as long as possible rather than returning across the river with her daughter-in-law. It is not that they get along any worse than others, old “Basket-shaker” simply has a great respect for her own independence—that is all. And there is “King-salmon-hitter” helping his wife bring things from her cache down to her canoe on the beach. The women

32

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

will say there are other things he had better be doing, but his friends in the kashim only smile at each other. She has had him under her thumb since he was a boy and her mother used to chase him out of their entry way in the dark of the evening. In the winter village, smoke is curling out of the center of the dome-shaped mounds and drifting toward the cemetery on the hill. Except for the children there are not many signs of life. Shouts from boys chasing each other on the playing ground behind the village come through the trees, and “Pats-with-his-hands”’ pretty young wife has come out to drive her little son and his friends off the roof before one of them falls through the smoke hole and cripples himself. She still has the parka in her hands on which she was sewing, and the muskrat skins have dark hair and thick. Last year was a good year for muskrats. The women have been busy for weeks making clothes. “King-salmon-hitter” has returned with his wife from the summer village and is walking down the path which passes in front of all the houses. He walks slowly with a certain dignity which may be a little self-conscious. Anyone who is paying attention knows that he is going to the big kashim almost in the middle of the settlement where most of the other men are working or talking according to their temperament or mood at the moment. He goes down the steps into the entryway and stops a moment as though to compose himself, then he pulls back the bear skin cover of the door and crawls through into the dull light of the big room. Some¬ one is saying rather loudly that the bath fire was not very hot the night before which, of course, everyone knows means the opposite, and “Chopper” laughs a little, ashamed because he could not stand the heat and had gone out. No one gives “King-salmon-hitter” a greeting, for decent people know that to do such a thing would subtly question his right to be there. “King-salmon-hitter” goes over to the right corner of the back bench, and “Pats-with-his-hands” to make room shoves away the long sticks with which he is mending a parka stretcher. To sit and work in that particular spot is “Kingsalmon-hitter’s” privilege, for it was he who carved the corner piece when the kashim was rebuilt four winters ago. No one would forget the time for that was the year the Eskimo had walked all the way down from “Under-the-rocks” to tell about the strange men with skins the color of salmon bellies who had come across the sea on a floating house. “King-salmon-hitter” thought of it as he pulled from his bag at the rear of the bench the partly finished bottom of a box he was making. He had traded another just like it to the Eskimo. “King-salmon-hitter” sat for a few minutes just thinking of all of the things that had happened in the course of those few years, so much that it is hard to remember and still harder to tell, but we will try.

PART TWO: THE DATA VILLAGE ACTIVITIES

/

Life in the Kashim

’introduction. Thelngalik kashim is the center of a man’s world in the wintertime

and the place where all members of the community periodically come together. Young men live in the kashim from the beginning of adolescence until their mar¬ riage. Then they return almost every day to carry on their work of manufacturing the various objects essential for the support of their families. In the kashim they take their warming sweat baths and there in the evening they eat their principal meal. As the night hours come on, the kashim becomes the place of gossip and stories, and even some of the married men will not return to their household benches until weary and ready for sleep. Apart from the ordinary routine of the day, the kashim also serves as a place for the council of old men concerned with the welfare of the village. In it the shamans demonstrate their prowess, and traders from distant settlements set forth their wares. Periodically the kashim becomes the theater in which the elaborate cere¬ monials of the winter season bring great excitement to the populace which has con¬ verged from near-by villages for the occasion. Whereas much of the ceremonial activity of the kashim takes place for the religious purpose of increasing life, in these performances one also finds the recognition of the significance and inevitability of death. In its final function, the kashim is an interim resting place for the honored dead. First, let us consider the ordinary cycle of daily life. Sleeping. One of the universal human needs, sometimes slighted, is to sleep. Possibly the Ingalik do more sleeping in the kashim during the long winter nights than other people who live in areas where the sun is more regular in its daily visit. If this should be the case, however, then surely the Ingalik make full compensation by their long working hours during the summer fishing season. In any event, if we could see through the darkness of the kashim on a winter night, we would find the narrow benches and the areas beneath them more or less filled up by men lying head to head and foot to foot in two rows around the wall.1 Some of the men snore and some of them even mutter in unconscious expressions of dreams. It is not likely that we would see a man walking in his sleep, but such a thing is not unknown. If we look closer, we will see that the men lying along the front wall of the kashim have graying hair. These are the intermittent residents of the night, who for one reason or another have not returned to their homes. As we move along the benches to the rear, we realize that to large degree the kashim during the hours of rest belongs to the young. We see young boys, only recently removed from their mothers’ houses, curled up to keep warm with caribou robes beneath and others on top. Some of the 1 For a technical description, diagrams, and pictures of the kashim, see Ingalik Material Culture, 290-302, pi. 7.

33

34

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

sleepers have blankets of beaver or muskrat skins, and in some the fur is new, and in some it is very much worn. The working day. In the still darkness of the morning a man wakens. He raises his head and looks about while his eyes adjust to the gloom. Still in his underclothes, he slides off the bench and steps carefully along the floor to the entrance where he pulls back the bear skin cover of the door and crawls through the connecting pas¬ sage to the entryway. Once there, he climbs the stairs, careful not to upset any of the fish trap sticks or urine bowls which have been stored along the ledge. Stepping out into the open, he shudders once from the sting of the cold as he turns his eyes up¬ ward to look at the sky. With a quick nod of recognition of the pale light on the north¬ ern horizon, he returns inside and goes to the still-open fireplace filled with warm ashes. Stirring them with a pair of sticks he finds a glowing ember. He picks it up and blows on it as he goes over to one of the clay lamps resting on its stand at the side of the fireplace. He places the coal against the moss wick, blowing gently as he does so. In a moment the oily material bursts into a small and smoky flame. Then he walks around the fireplace and lights the second lamp in the same manner. Finally he moves back to his place on the bench and reaches for his outer clothing which he begins to put on. The small lights have already awakened several other sleepers who begin to talk, and in a few minutes all the occupants are aware that a new day has begun in the darkness of a northern winter. The large single room of the kashim does not seem unpleasantly cold to those who have slept in it. The heat from the previous night’s fire is still evident and the warmth of the human bodies has added some of its own. Nevertheless, it is obvious from the way in which the men pull on their fur garments, that they are necessary to provide the minimum margin of comfort for a people unafraid of the cold. One of the younger boys goes outside. He is looking around the village to see from which houses the smoke is rising and particularly to discover whether break¬ fast is being cooked in his own, for he is hungry. Before he can return inside he is joined by other boys equally interested, and soon the information is spread around the kashim. The young men try to emulate the older in showing no haste for food, while the older move with a steady disregard for hunger which has been a lifelong lesson. Much time has not passed, however, before the kashim has been emptied, its occupants having gone off to the houses of their mothers or wives who have pre¬ pared the morning meal. Soon the kashim begins to fill up again, not only with those who have spent the night there but with married men who have slept beside their wives. Some boys have put back the planks which cover the fireplace with a quick glance at the diagonal grooves across their surface which determine the proper position of each. Someone straightens the wick and adds oil to a lamp that is flickering. One man brings in some long strips of clear-grained spruce from the entryway. These he will split into strips for a blackfish trap he is making. Others reach for the bowls which they are carving from the soft spruce root taken near the tree trunk, or whittle away at an

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

35

arrow shaft. Much of an Ingalik man’s life is spent in manufacturing things and much of the making is done here in the kashim. A few of the men will spend the day quietly at their woodwork. Periodically other men leave the kashim to undertake various pursuits elsewhere. Some will go fishing or hunting. Inside the kashim, during the day, working and talking continue. The conversa¬ tions are not loud, however. Occasionally, when the room becomes too noisy, some of the old men will get up and leave. This acts as a warning and the loud ones will quiet down, for everyone knows there is danger in noise. Only once in a very long time during the ordinary working day is there a “hell raising” racket in the kashim. The “loved-fire.” As the day goes on and the sunshine of noon disappears, the outside world grows gray and more of the men return to the kashim. Everyone has grown a little weary. There has been no sustaining luncheon for the men, although a few have taken an opportunity to down a piece of dry fish. Perhaps, most of all, it is the weather which is wearing, for the winter’s cold exhausts one’s energy. The kashim is no longer comfortable and one of the younger men brings in some longdead spruce poles which he proceeds to split and break up on the kashim floor. Others derive some pleasure from watching in anticipation of the action to come. More men bring in wood and at a time which is readily recognizable to all those for whom the making of the much-loved fire has become an eagerly awaited daily rou¬ tine, two men get up and go to the end of the fireplace. This rectangular opening in the floor is in the center or a little to the rear of the center of the room and stretches perpendicularly to the front wall of the kashim. The opening is as wide as a tall man and perhaps half again longer. The men pick up one of the lengthwise cover planks and swing it to the edge of the opening. Then they return for the next one, repeating the process and placing it on top of the first. This action they continue until all cover planks have been piled in similar stacks on each side of the opening. One of the men jumps into the fireplace hole, the bottom of which is about two and a half feet below the level of the floor, and shoves the previous night’s ashes into the tunnel which connects with the entrance. While he is doing this, another man sweeps up the floor with a willow broom. Laying the fire follows a definite procedure. First, two pieces of wood are placed parallel to the front of the house so that a draft from the entrance will not come beneath them. Then a pile of shavings from the day’s woodworking, together with little sticks, is laid against the inner side of the log nearer the door. More wood is then placed on top and perpendicular to the first two pieces. Additional layers follow in alternating directions. The amount of spruce wood fuel that is piled up depends, of course, upon the weather. At last the awaited moment has come. An old man steps forward with his fire drill while a couple of boys rush out and climb up on the roof to remove the bear gut smoke hole cover. They place it beside the hole with a stick on top to prevent its blowing away. Inside the kashim, the old Indian kneels on one end of the flat bottom piece of his drill, putting a frag¬ ment of punk from a birch tree in one of its little holes. Then fitting the point of the heavier end of the vertical drill rod into the small hole, he inserts the other end

36

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

into the mouthpiece firmly held between his teeth. Wrapping a babiche line around the rod, he rotates it faster and faster by alternately pulling the opposite ends of the line. As the others watch, a thin stream of smoke rises from the bit of punk glowing red. The old man quickly puts this newborn fire in the center of a handful of shavings which he swings through the air. As the shavings ignite, he throws the flaming mass into the pile of larger shavings at the bottom of the fireplace. The sweat bath. As the fire catches hold, the men remove their clothing, sometimes piling it behind the cover boards as a protection from the flames which leap higher and higher into the air due to the draft which has been created by opening the smoke hole and by fastening to one side the bear skin covers of the doors. Those who do not wish to sweat bathe prepare to leave the kashim. As the room becomes hotter and hotter, the others draw back on the benches. Beside him, a man keeps his urine box filled with water. The great heat of the fire causes a man to become soaked with perspiration, and from time to time he dips a piece of skin in his box of water and wipes himself with it. As the heat increases, each man puts a breath protector in his mouth. This small bunch of wrapped up shavings by holding back the steam makes breathing easier. If a man sitting on the bench cannot stand the heat, he crawls underneath where it is slightly cooler. At last, the peak of temperature is reached and the kashim be¬ gins to cool off. At this time, some of the men bring in snow and rub it over their bodies; and boys, having thus cooled themselves, may run outside and throw more snow on themselves. When the fun is over, the boys and the men put on part of their clothing and settle down for the evening in the warm kashim. There are vari¬ ous things that can yet be done before the day is over, but certainly almost all look forward to the time for dinner. The evening meal. At dinnertime, wives come to the kashim bringing their hus¬ bands’ and sons’ suppers in eating dishes or food bowls. The older women usually come first, followed by the younger who are generally more hesitant before entering the little masculine world of the kashim. After crawling through the entry way, a wife places her food containers on the floor in front of her husband who may be sitting on the bench. She picks up one of the bowls and hands it to him and then takes another to a son, sitting perhaps on the opposite side of the room. In this way she distributes the bowls to the various members of her family. When done, she sits flat on the floor in front of her husband’s place on the bench with her feet toward the fireplace and waits for the empty dishes. The men pick up the food with their hands and take a bite big enough to chew, unless the meal is a thick soup, in which case there is always a wooden spoon in the bowl. In either case, eating is a leisurely process and done with no excess noise, although some is unavoidable as when one sucks on a fish bone. A man whose wife comes early with his dinner may share it with his friend sitting beside him, a gesture which is, of course, reciprocated when the latter’s wife comes in. When the husband has finished with his food, he tells his wife and she collects the empty dishes and takes them home.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

37

On special, but not too infrequent occasions, a woman may bring into the kashim a big wooden bowl about three feet long filled with hot food. This occurs, for exam¬ ple, when her husband has killed a caribou. When the dish is put down, the husband says, “If you fellows would like to eat, go ahead.” Then perhaps five or six of the older group of men in the kashim leave their places to go and sit down on the bare floor around the bowl. They eat the caribou meat with their fingers, but only a modest amount. When they have finished, they say “Thank you” and return to their seats to make room for another group to eat. After everyone has partaken in turn, the man who killed the caribou eats some of the meat himself. If there is still some food left, it is passed around to the old men first. On other occasions, there may not be quite enough for everyone, in which case the younger men and the host get none of the caribou. The hungry ones almost certainly will go home for some¬ thing to eat as no other wife will be expected to bring bowls to the kashim on an evening when communal food is served. When a wife for the first time serves such a large dish of caribou meat, she is ashamed in thus attracting attention and sits with her head down. This is particu¬ larly so when a young wife is the cook, and perhaps she will try to persuade her husband to carry in the bowl himself. The girl is seldom successful, however, and the nervous movements of the men in the kashim indicate excitement when a young and attractive woman is the bearer of food for them all. If a number of men have been so fortunate as to kill caribou or a moose, or when there is an unusual catch of blackfish, the wives discuss this happy turn of events and decide among themselves who will cook the meat on the first night and who on the next. Thus they share their favorite foods at times when everyone is hungry for them. After dinner. When the evening meal is over, some of the married men return home with their wives. Others wait to put the final touches on a piece of wood¬ working unfinished during the day. Working beside the small lamps is tiring, how¬ ever, especially in the warm kashim with a full stomach. As the evening stretches out and the talk quiets down, someone with the gift of words may tell a story and one telling leads to another. If there is any indication that this may occur, older women, whose children are grown, may wait to listen but do no telling in the kashim themselves. This is particularly true when a well-known storyteller arrives on a visit from another village. In such a case, the visitor on finishing his tale will politely say, “I cut the winter in half,” as though in apology for the time he has taken. As the story progresses, there are intermittent expressions of approval when impor¬ tant points are well turned. Almost all of the stories have been previously heard, but a story is never repeated in the course of a single winter. Some of the accounts are realistic descriptions of hunting, while contrariwise, others are highly suggestive of strange and incalculable things. It is not unknown, in consequence, for young men to keep the lamps burning all during the night rather than face the darkness through which spirits may wander unseen. On most occasions, however, the fire is allowed to burn down into deep red coals while the boys climb up to the roof to

38

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

restore the smoke hole cover to close in the evening’s heat. One by one, the men curl up in their blankets and lose themselves in sleep. Perhaps a man looking forward to caribou hunting on the morrow snuffs out the lamps. Then silence, save for a few snores, descends on the kashim. Group Hunting and Fishing

The caribou surround. Two men return to the kashim late on a fall afternoon and report that while hunting in the valley west of “Red-stone” they have seen a large herd of caribou. Everyone stops what he is doing, for few things can excite more Ingalik at one time than the report of the massing of these fleet-footed deer. An old man states what a number have been thinking. In the same valley there is a surround which has not been used for a number of years. It was not in bad shape then, however, and with enough men it could be easily fixed in a day or two. One who knows Indians well can already see that unless the weather turns bad or some unexpected event interferes, there is going to be a caribou hunt, not the ordinary persevering pursuit by a couple of men, but a community affair with its attendant excitement. Old “Holds-the-bow” has a gleam in his eye and he begins to tell of his first hunt which took place before most of his companions were born. A few men listen respectfully, although they have heard the story many times and realize that old “Holds-the-bow” will never hunt again. Still, it is good to listen, for he is wise in the ways of the caribou. A few men come definitely to an agreement to hunt, and quickly the word spreads. Young men, eager to be the bearers of news, run home for there are always prepara¬ tions which must be made. One man has to see that his caribou snare is still strong enough for the task; another cannot find the snare that was certainly looped around the rafter at the back of the cache. A man who recalled that a caribou ran off with his last one has gone to the richest hunter in the village to see if the latter will give him a length of sea-lion babiche. This will mean a considerable repayment in meat, but there is nothing like a sea-lion snare to hold on to a caribou. Early the next morning most of the men are ready to go. Two impatient boys have been sent off to “Red-stone” the night before to invite the men to join in the hunt. After all, it was one of the “Red-stone” families which had first built the surround. That was so long ago that now no one remembers the time, but still it would not be courteous to have a caribou drive in that valley without the approval which will be inevitably forthcoming. Someone in the party jokingly says that he hopes that the boys will not lose the trail. This is not likely, as few trails are better known than the winter road up the river. Nonetheless, to break out a new trail in the fresh-fallen snow may sometimes confuse even an older man. The boys will not go winding about too much in any event, for although there is still only a light cover of snow, breaking trail under the best of conditions is hard work. In pairs or small groups the men file northward along the path of the village, walking slowly to show restraint. Just beyond the last house they stop to put on their snowshoes and give a last adjustment to their

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

39

packs. Then, one by one, they fall in behind the leader, shuffling along the trail in easy rhythmical strides which are slightly faster than a walk. The men finally reach “Red-stone” where preparations have been going on for hours to receive the visitors. Fortunately, some of the hunters in that village have just killed caribou and there is a sufficiency of fresh meat. Everyone is excited over the prospects of more. A much enlarged party now numbering several score of men sets out the next morning. Agreement has been made to camp at a well-known place and some of the hunters pair off and spread out over the valley to determine the number and movements of the caribou. The others go on to walk down the fencelike wings of the surround, replacing poles which have fallen and trying to make the barrier appear more impassable than it actually is. As they move along, some hunters pre¬ fer to place their snares in such openings as might seem to invite a feeding caribou, rather than to stretch them in the corral itself. In due time, the scouts return with the report that there are even more caribou than had been previously seen. Only a brief council is necessary to determine the line of attack, for the obvious procedure is to circle around down-wind until the animals are grazing between the men and the spreading wings of the surround. When this has been accomplished, the men move toward the quarry, slowly at first, not wishing to exhaust themselves until the actual chase begins. A few caribou lift their heads and look about nervously, then go leaping for the hills. They almost reach the trees ringing the meadow before they stop abruptly. In a minute, other caribou come racing toward them out of the woods and now the whole band starts off on a new course, swerving first in one direction and then in another as though disconcerted by so many manifestations of danger. By this time the cries of converging men can be heard and the caribou are aware of but one way to escape. Straight along the valley they go to the place where it narrows. At first they hardly notice the fence that blocks their path up the hill. Then suddenly a buck sees an opening and leaps through it, but a snare, catching on one horn, jerks him around in midair and throws him crashing into the under¬ brush. The Indians are not far behind the herd, yelling as they come racing over the snow with lance and bow in hand. It is the man who borrowed the sea-lion babiche who has made the first catch, and he approaches the buck now trying to escape, but hopelessly since the pole to which the snare has been fastened is caught in the trees. The hunter closes in on the caribou and with one swift jab of his lance sends the paralyzed animal to a bloody death on the snow. Without waiting longer, the Indian dashes after the others, noticing, as he runs, that many of the animals have escaped but that here and there one of his companions has been successful. When he reaches the opening of the corral, six or seven caribou are racing sunwise around it. Seeing one come out of the entrance, with a continuous swing of the arm he flips an arrow to his bow string. Before he can pull it, however, the deer has gone down, the frail spruce shaft of another’s arrow pointing direct to its heart. It is not many minutes before all the caribou which have not escaped are skinned

40

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

and cut up, some of the choicest pieces being quickly impaled on sticks near a fire. Much of the discussion centers about how this animal was taken and another broke free. But clearly the hunt has been successful and the hard work of carrying all the meat back to the villages will long have been forgotten while the tale of this day’s hunt remains new. Lamprey fishing. In the months before the winter solstice, lampreys come up the Yukon River moving steadily at a rate of about four miles each day. It is easy, therefore, to know when these eel-like creatures may be expected near “Anvikmouth,” and all the people look forward to the exhilarating pleasure of catching them. In the days preceding their arrival, men make new lamprey sticks in the kashim or repair the lashing on the notched L-shaped hooks of old ones. When the lam¬ preys begin to pass, all the men in the village who are not observing the taboos which follow the birth of a child, or some other vitally important occasion, as well as any of the older women who have passed the menopause, go out on the ice of the Yukon where the water is swiftest. Here each person cuts a rectangular hole for him¬ self with an ice chisel. Then one has to wait for the lampreys, the coming of which is signaled by fishermen at holes lower down the river, who, as the run begins, turn upstream and cry “wi” as forewarning. When the lampreys come, a man puts his stick down through the hole and tries to snag a lamprey and haul it onto the ice. When there are many, this is not so difficult because the water fairly overflows the holes under pressure of the number of fish. Some years the lampreys are few and the young women wonder if one of the girls has given offense. Old “Holds-the-bow,” who was very strong in his younger days, sometimes caught lampreys in a large dip net, but to fish this way is hard work and likewise dangerous, for a man may easily slip through the opening to disappear in the swift current. Lamprey fishing is dangerous anyway with the ice full of holes in the dark. Perhaps that is one of the things that makes it exciting. The day after the lampreys pass, the women are busy pounding them up to ex¬ tract the oil, and it is certain that there will be bowls brought to the kashim in the evening with enough remaining lamprey fish for everyone to eat. Old “Holds-thebow,” who has a weakness for these fish, likes his wife to fix some in a special way. She cuts the lamprey into pieces about one inch long and boils them in a clay pot for a few minutes. Then she puts the pieces in a birch bark basket, pours some of the oil over them, and puts them in the entryway to freeze. The old lady gets her fingers oily and licks them in her mouth, afterwards wiping them on her hair. When the little pieces of lamprey are stiff, she brings them to “Holds-the-bow” with his dinner, and he and his best friend dunk them in oil before putting them in their mouths. Some people smile. The hear hunt. Hunting bears is precarious unless the animal is killed in a snare or a deadfall. Then the hunting is an individual or an interpersonal affair. The bear hunt becomes a village activity, however, when a bear is found in its hole and men are willing to attack it with lances. Some Indians seem to have a natural gift for finding a bear’s hiding place in the

OSGOOD: INGALIIv SOCIAL CULTURE

41

wintertime. Going through the woods they see some bear hair clinging to the bushes and then they start searching for the hole. If a man is clever enough to find it, he will return to the kashim with news of his discovery. Some of the men who are always talking about what they are going to do when they next see a bear seem un¬ usually quiet, but there are always a few who will risk their lives on such a venture. Once agreed, an experienced man among them informally takes over the leadership of the party. Lances are carefully examined to see that the moose leg points are tight and someone goes off for a coil of the heaviest rawhide line. Then the men set off to the newly discovered lair. When the hunters arrive at the entrance, there is always some discussion as to the best procedure. When this is settled, one man ties up a bunch of willow sticks about three feet long and a foot in diameter, using the end of the rawhide line. The other men take their lances and line up at the left side of the hole. When everyone is set, the man with the bundle of willows throws it down into the bear’s hole and runs with the other end of the line and quickly ties it around a tree. The bear, awakened by this unexpected intrusion, grabs the bunch of willows which, being tied, he cannot pull out of the way. This infuriates the bear and he tries to crawl out of his hole, but he cannot move very fast because he is sluggish from sleep and the willows get in his way. When the bear reaches the entrance of his house, he is apt to be very mad and he strikes at the first man he sees. If he uses his right paw as expected, this gives the first man lined up on the left side of the hole a chance to get in a mortal thrust with his lance, while the bear swings a backhanded blow. A great deal depends upon this first exchange. The bear may scalp the hunter if the thrust is wrongly placed, or contrariwise, the bear may be helpless in moments when the sharp moose bone cuts into his jugular vein. In any event, the battle is partly won by the hunters when the first lance is well stuck in, for in a frenzy of pain the animal is apt to turn half his attack upon the offending weapon. Then another hunter even more daring than the first may dash in for a lance blow. If successful, the kill is on and in a matter of minutes the bear lies lifeless before them. When the bear is dead, the carcass is skinned, just as one would skin a caribou. A man slits the belly skin fore and aft, continuing the cut down the legs. The skin is then peeled off with deft knife cuts in order to be later tanned. If the skin is a good one, it will be hung up to cover one of the three doors of the kashim or, if not, some old man may take it to sleep on. Once the hide has been removed, the viscera are taken out, care being taken not to injure the bladder, or if a male, the testicles, in the process. Then those doing the butchering cut off in order the rear legs, the front legs, the ribs in one piece on each side, the head, and finally the backbone which is divided into two or three sections. The intestines are saved to make into bags or perhaps a smoke hole cover for the kashim. The meat with the principal internal organs the party carries back to the edge of the village. There a fire is built and the men cook the meat and conspicuously consume it in the light of the flames. Some women may watch from a distance, but they do not eat. After the meal is over, the bones and other remnants of the carcass are carefully disposed of so no woman will

42

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

walk where even the blood of the bear has been dripping. One thing is certain. There will be much talk in the kashim of how the bear fought before he died and who made this thrust of the lance and with what effect. One can see an Indian’s muscles become tense and hear pride in his voice when he talks of the bear hunt. Spring camps. Of the various group activities involving hunting and fishing, none is more important than the establishment of “canoe villages” in the spring. In the weeks before the ice melts on the small lakes and the sun lingers in the valleys, the fever of spring spreads among the men who have worked through the dark days in the kashim. One can depend upon it that shortly after the vernal equinox some hunter will announce that he is going to make camp in the woods. He will ask some of his relatives if they wish to join in a party, knowing that despite the restlessness some persuasion will be called for as much work is involved. Hauling canoes and equipment through the bush is arduous labor, and to build a shelter and to make fish traps will require several days more. Worst of all, one is sure to get wet in the spring rains and spring rains are dangerously cold. The men think of their warm kashim and how beautifully the fire rises in the darkness before the evening sweat bath. Despite the labor and discomfort some of the men will certainly go, for once the decision is in the scales, their wives will tip the balance. Women are always willing to go to the spring camps for they get tired of staying at home and they love fresh fish. Even the old women look forward to the venture because at the spring camps they will find jackfish whose skins are easy to scrape. They will sew over parkas from them. It will be a kind of picnic and certainly women who have agreed among themselves can make uncertain husbands feel the strength of their collective desire. Thus, inevitably, each spring one or more groups of from one to ten families decide on a destination and make their plans to depart. When the matter is settled, the houses become hives of excitement. Women start bringing the dry fish from the caches and all manner of food which has been left underground. There are bags of oil to make “ice cream.” There will be fish eggs and berries to be brought out and gone over, all to be specially packed in baskets for the journey. Besides carrying all the food, it will be necessary to take pots, plates, buckets, fish nets, and a score of little things that only a woman would remember. Clothes are no burden, for most people carry nothing that they do not wear. While the women are collecting food and household goods for the journey, their husbands proceed one night to the chosen camping place, pulling their sleds on which they have placed their birch bark hunting canoes. Although the small lake where the camp is to be made lies only at a distance of six or seven miles, pulling a canoe through the woods is a difficult task as one must be particularly careful or the bark will be torn by branches to say nothing of the damage if the sled tips over. Still, it is an adventure and, if all goes well, the men will quickly return to make a second trip with the women’s traveling canoes. These are even more difficult to transport, but there is an invaluable advantage from the preceding experience. When the canoes have been deposited at the camp, the men return for the women

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

43

with their household goods. All that is needed to signal the time of final departure is a clear cold night to make a hard crust on the snow and the traveling easier. Then there is a great scurrying to load the sleds. The wives who are leaving may take the last of their food from their underground caches and give it to friends to take care of. This is because they will be gone during the spring thaws when running water on the ground may flood their storage holes if they are not at home to watch over them. Also, all the movable things in the winter houses which are not taken to the spring camp in the sleds are put up into the high caches for safekeeping. For those who go off, it is the real break in the annual round, as on their return they will move into their summer residences. Therefore, the women go to the houses of their friends who are staying behind. They talk a little and tell them to take care of them¬ selves and not to go on bad ice and the other little warnings which are the signs of affection. Then they say good-by, but without any embrace or touching of hands. About midnight when the snow has frozen tightly, the party sets out along the well-marked trail. Men and an occasional woman pull the sleds while those with less strength push from behind. Only the smallest children can ride. Even with the trail well tramped down by the first two trips, progress is slow. Every few hundred yards the caravan stops and the people rest for a few minutes. Then they go on again, but most of the night may have passed before the party reaches their favorite camp¬ ing place. When they arrive they shovel off the snow from a chosen spot and pick up wood for a big fire. In this fire, poles will be burned to the proper lengths for making the inverted V-shaped house in which they will live. To make such a house requires two or three days, and in the meantime the people sleep under the trees, drawing large fish skin covers over them if it rains. The men put up two heavy posts with a ridge pole against which rest rows of long poles with the branches burned off to make the sides and ends. While this is being done, women gather great piles of spruce branches. When the framework is done, the spruce boughs are piled against it, very thickly at the bottom so that they will not slide off before the covering reaches the top. In the middle of the roof a large opening is left for smoke to escape from the fire in the center of the house. Except for the cooking area, the whole floor is also covered with spruce boughs, and the families divide the space for their beds. When the first house is finished, as there is usually more than one, all the women who occupy it make “ice cream.” This is done by warming some fish oil and knead¬ ing it into a pile of previously prepared oiled cotton which has been brought along in salmon skin bags.2 When this preparation has taken on a doughlike consistency, snow is stirred in until the mixture can be whipped into a fluffy mass and then some berries are added for flavor. When the “ice cream” is ready, each woman in the first house fills up one end of a bowl with the “ice cream” and the other with pieces of dry fish. That evening she takes it to some woman who is not going to live in her house. This little gesture of friendship is one of the symbols of the communal ac2 In eating “ice cream” the cotton is not swallowed. One may chew it as long as one likes for it tastes fine, but ultimately it is spit out.

44

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

tivity and everyone enjoys the feast. Of course, the “ice cream” is apt to be particu¬ larly rich, since if a woman were stingy and whipped it too thin, she would probably get no better in return when the second house is completed. As soon as the camp is settled, the men start to work making fish traps, their wives gathering spruce roots to lash the sticks and at the same time collecting spruce gum for mending canoes. Constructing the traps may consume four or five days, but once they are done, the hard work is over. If the ice is still strong on the lakes, the blackfish traps will be set vertically in the holes where the fish come up to breathe, or in newly made holes near by. As the ice begins to go, the narrow outlets of the lakes open up and the ice breaks on the sloughs between. Blackfish traps are then laid in the narrow openings of the outlets and jackfish traps are sunk in the sloughs. Every morning the men go to the traps to see what the night has brought and they are almost sure to bring home a heavy load of fish to their wives. While their wives cut and hang the fish for drying, the men may wander along the shore of the lake setting snares where they see some signs of birds. Sometimes the women go looking for mouse berries on the sand bars where the snow has melted. Like everything else, life in the spring camp has its disadvantages. When the heavy thaw comes, water begins to run everywhere and there is the danger of freezing one’s feet. Also if the storms of spring blow fiercely, the spruce bough shelters are cold for needles are no barrier against wind. Perhaps worst of all are the heavy spring rains which soak the inside of the house making one’s days and nights less pleasant. It is apt to be then a feeling sweeps through the camp that the time has come to return to the river. Again there is excitement and canoes are pre¬ pared for the homeward journey. When all the paraphernalia of the houses are in the canoes, as well as the newly dried fish, the parties set out steering carefully along the flooded creeks which lead them back to the river and their summer camps. Making fish weirs. After the main fishing season has ended in the middle of the summer, there are always some men who want more and more fish. The Indians have a way to get them if one has the energy and perseverance, but there is probably no Ingalik task so unpleasant as making a fish weir, for that is the method they must use. Still it is a challenge, and pride is to be considered as well as the profit. Usually four to ten men make a weir, but three have been known to do it. The group forms from a nucleus of those who cooperated the year before, but there are always some individuals who drop out, and others who may want to join in. The location is discussed as the plan proceeds—always along a tributary river, such as the Anvik, at a place where none of the water is over a man’s head. Once everyone is agreed, the men proceed to make sections of fence or transport those available to the chosen site. Likewise, each man has his side-strean trap to set up when the weir is finished. Only the construction of the weirs is a cooperative venture; a man works his own trap by himself. The problem is to block the river so no fish can pass. This is done in the same manner as one sets an ordinary salmon trap fence in the Yukon, but it cannot be accomplished from a canoe since the upright supporting poles have to be driven into the bottom in order to block a whole river (compare At the summer or white fish

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

45

traps under Individual Behavior). For this, there is nothing to do except to take off one’s clothes, wade in with a pole and a maul, and go to work. Since the maul may be as heavy as eight pounds, a man can easily slip in the current and hurt himself when trying to pound a pole. Worst of all, the fast-moving water of the side streams may be bitterly cold even in summer. Each man has the responsibility of constructing one section of the weir in which he can make a pocket against which to place the mouth of his basket trap. Sometunes there are arguments as to position in the line. The two places next to the shores are preferable as the traps put there catch more fish, but, on the other hand, those who have them must build much longer sections of trapless fence reaching to the shore. To a tall man always goes the deepest part of the river, but he will be given help if needed. When the X-shaped vertical posts are driven in and the connecting horizontal poles lashed tightly, then the sections of fence are tied against them on the upstream side. Actually the weir tends to be roughly a spread V-form pointing against the current, as is necessary to give it stability. The pockets can be made and the basket put down either above or below the weir, but the mouth of the trap always faces the fence. In August, a trap in the Anvik River works best in taking salmon below the weir, and grayling or salmon trout above. One can shift the trap and fence pocket as he pleases, for he is sure to catch something. The situation is not quite so simple as it sounds, however. Even though the makers do not understand how fish do it, they manage to get past the weir. To try to stop them, one man wades across the stream each day, feeling all over the fence for holes and blocking any passages underneath with stones. It is cold work. Even worse, if it rains for two or three days on end, as it is apt to do in August, the whole weir has to be pulled out or it will be washed away. Then the water becomes colder and colder as one replaces the fence. Unfortunately, the best weir fishing occurs in September. By that time it is torture to get wet and only the brave are willing to do it. Catching beaver in nets. In the fall sometime between the middle of August and the annual freeze-up, a group of men may decide to make an attack on a beaver colony. In order to do this it is necessary to have enough nets made from babiche line to surround the beaver house completely. A few of the men will have such nets in their caches and others will persuade their wives to make them for the purpose. As they are constructed in the same fashion as are willow bark nets, the procedure is a simple one if the babiche line is available. Carrying their nets and lances, the hunters set off for the stream where the beaver are located. Having arrived in the vicinity of the beaver settlement, the hunters prepare a series of lightweight posts. With these ready, they drive them into the stream bed about five feet apart so as to encircle the beaver house. The nets made of babiche line are then spread between the posts and tied at the lower and upper ends with willow fastenings. When this considerable undertaking has been accom¬ plished, the beaver in the house have no means to escape. The next step in the procedure of hunting is to break down the beaver dam. This

46

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

can be done most effectively by prying a log through the lower part of the face of the dam, thus causing a leak. As soon as there is an aperture created, the running water completes the task. When the beaver discover that the level of water is dropping, they try to escape the danger that confronts them. They are surrounded by nets, however. Some of the beaver, in trying to force a passage, break loose the willows tying a section of net, and entangle themselves in the meshes. In this pre¬ dicament, the victim can be killed with clubs. As soon as the beaver is dead, the carcass is removed and the net replaced in its original position. In their endeavors to escape, some beaver may be killed with lances while others return to their house when they realize that the level of the water is too low to pro¬ tect them. Finally, when the stream is reduced to its natural depth, the hunters break down the beaver house, spearing the last of the inmates. However rewarding the group hunting of beaver may be, it is not frequently undertaken because of the labor involved. Sports and Games

Spring recreation. In the late winter and early spring the Indians enjoy trials of strength in the kashim. A man may pass around a long bone of a beaver as a sug¬ gestion that someone try to break it and a young hunter who feels strong may try to do so, placing the fur of his parka over the bone so as to protect his hands in the process. A beaver tibia or ulna is hard to break even if it comes from an old beaver that has been recently killed. If some man makes the undertaking seem easy by snapping the bone, another will probably put aside the bone of a young but fully grown beaver until age has strengthened it. It is an unusual man who can break such a piece. Once in a while a boy may offer the chance to break the bone to his female cousin who happens to come into the kashim. She is not likely to try, but the men think the offer is funny because they all will remember the old story that a girl once did accept the bone and then broke it, saying to the man who had been paying her at¬ tention, “Now you see what I shall do to you if you do not keep your hands off of me when I go into the bush.” Pent-up energy may be released in a backslapping race. If the men are agreed, a small block of wood is put on the floor near each of the four corners of the kashim with just enough room for one person to pass behind them. One man is chosen to start in one corner and a second man at the opposite corner. A third person claps his hands and the two set out in a rectangular sunwise chase around and around the kashim always passing between the blocks and the benches. Sooner or later, one overtakes the other and slaps him on the back. The race is then started over again with another boy taking the place of the one who was slapped. Running the rec¬ tangular course causes dizziness and the onlookers particularly enjoy the pecu¬ liar postures assumed by the participants. Tired from running someone will inaugurate a jumping contest. One of the ways to test agility is to hang a line from the smoke hole with a mitten tied to the end

OSGOOD; INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

47

so that the latter is a short distance above the covering boards of the fire hole. The smaller boys begin the competition. They face the mitten almost touching the line. Then they jump into the air and attempt to touch the mitten with both feet at the same time. The mitten is raised intermittently as the taller and more practiced jumpers enter the competition. A less exacting form of the high jump is undertaken when a crosspiece is ex¬ tended between two pairs of poles, each pair being tied in the form of a letter X. Again the younger boys begin the jumping from a standing position, and gradually the crosspiece is raised by sliding up the lashings of the paired poles until a height is reached which no jumper can attain. A man who is not satisfied with his prowess in high jumping may suggest a competition for distance. A boy stands on a line or a crack of the floor and jumps as far as he can, the place where his heels land being marked with a little stick. Again it is customary for the poorer jumpers to start first, the best not joining in until the distance is challenging. This exercise is called the “blanket jump” by the Indians since so many of the contestants land in what suggests a sleeping position. Some men like to take a little running start for the broad jump or some prefer the “bear jump.” This is accomplished by jumping with both feet together from a marked line and landing on two hands before the feet hit the floor. If another jump of the same kind is immediately taken, the two together are called “rabbit jump.” If the men are in the mood, they may decide on a jumping game which requires even greater dexterity but is possible only in a kashim where the fire hole is within broadjump distance from the rear bench. This being so, all the rear ends of the fireplace cover boards except the middle one are dropped down into the hole. A jumping stand with a cross pole is then put up between the fire pit and the rear bench, and anyone who wishes to demonstrate his skill may hurdle over the jumping stand and attempt to land on the remaining board in the center of the fireplace. There is considerable peril in this sport when the crossbar is raised. The slanting cover boards which have one end in the fire hole do serve as some protection for the man who misses his footing, however. In this competition the men regularly use their hands for such help as they may afford. A variation of the hazard jump just described is carried out by jumping off one of the benches at the sides of the kashim and landing momentarily on the left foot before going on to a stand on the fireplace cover. This would be relatively hazardless were not the nearest cover boards removed one at a time until the jumpers eventually slip into the fire hole. If someone prefers more skill and less risk, he suggests “kicking feet” jumping. Four pencil-like sticks about two and a half feet long are placed parallel to each other and about eight inches apart on the kashim floor. The contestants take off their footwear, and a boy begins the competition by jumping with his feet together from a position in front of the first stick, landing on top of it and at the same time attempting to roll the stick backwards out from under his feet. Starting from the place where he lands, the boy continues the process by jumping to the top of the

48

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

next stick. When each man has had his turn, the four sticks are moved farther apart and the successful jumpers commence again. Besides games which involve jumping, there are also those in which one pulls. Among these are several varieties of tug of war. One procedure is to remove the middle board of the fire hole cover in the kashim. Two opponents then sit facing each other with their feet down in the hole. Both clasp a stick about one and a half feet in length and two inches in diameter. Then each tries to pull the other toward himself, and the one who is able to lie flat on his back is the winner. This game, like many others, starts with small boys and gradually ends up with the struggles of the strongest men. Sometimes young women will try, but only with other women. A variant contest may take place, the only difference being that a one-foot loop of babiche is substituted for the stick. Each of two contestants grasps the loop in his bare right hand and pulls until one of them is able to lie down. A somewhat different tug of war occurs when five men hold on to one end of a longer babiche line while five men take the other. The five who can withdraw to the nearest corner pulling the other five after them are the winners. One of the more simple pulling games takes place when the contestants pro¬ gressively chin themselves using two babiche lines suspended about two feet apart from a pole across the smoke hole. These lines, with the ends coiled up and knotted for grasping, are fastened to hang independently a few feet above the fire hole cover. Children may start the contest by attempting to chin themselves and, if possible after doing so, to gain an upright position with their hands stretched straight downward at their sides. The lines are gradually shortened by coiling up more and more of the ends until at last a contestant has to jump to obtain a hold on them. Boys and men also test the strength of their fingers. This is done by one person linking the first finger of his right hand with the corresponding finger of his opponent and then trying to pull him off balance. The second finger is next used and then the third and so on, perhaps until the fingers of both hands have been tried. For those who find distinction in finger pulling, there is a more complex proce¬ dure. One of the cover boards is taken from the fire hole and a double line about three feet long fastened to the end of it. Then the cover board is placed in one corner of the kashim and five men sit straddling on it. The man who tests his strength slips only his index finger under the loop of the line. He starts by tugging a little sideways. If he can then manage to pull the board, more men sit on it each holding on to the person in front of him. A much more simple contest takes place when two men lock their right arms and each attempts to drag the other around the kashim. It is also amusing to watch when two men sit down face to face with their feet stretched out against each other. A single loop of line is put around their heads so that their necks are linked in sitting position. Then each man attempts to lie down flat on his back.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

49

Still another contest of pulling occurs when one man holds a two-foot stick of wood with his arms straight down. Another taking hold of the stick with his two hands, attempts to raise it as high in the air as he can. Sometimes a man wishing to show his strength will ask four or five others to hang on his neck. A really powerful man may even support six others before he collapses. Another test is for a man to lie on his side and raise himself by means of a heavy but short stick about ten inches long. This he holds with his arms over his head and when raised off the ground he swings himself with his face up to a reverse position and rests on his other side. One of the most amusing games of strength is played when a short piece of babiche line with a small loop in the end is first fastened to a piece of wood about eight inches in diameter and one and a half feet in length. A person attempts to carry this block of wood around the kashim supporting the weight with one ear. This procedure is funny because, to carry the wood, one must face almost directly upwards with the string across the face. This causes facial distortion, and since it keeps the player from seeing the direction in which he is going as well as resulting in some dizziness, he may circuitously end up anywhere except where he intended. One contest which requires some skill is called the “biting” game. A specially made implement comprising a slender rod with four pegged-in feet to hold it vertical is stood up on the kashim floor. Each player must jump toward this on one foot and then lean over and pick it up between his teeth, still standing on the single foot on which he jumped. After each contestant has tried to do this, about one inch of the stand is broken off the top leaving the top about a foot above the floor. Shortening the stick, of course, makes the task of grasping it between the teeth more difficult, and the players who were at first successful try again. This proce¬ dure continues until all the players are eliminated by their failure or the stand is completely destroyed. More simple balancing games occur, as for instance, when one attempts to walk on his knees holding his feet in his hands behind his back. This exercise is generally done with knees bare and the goal is to cross the kashim from one bench to another. Men may wish to test their skill at tightrope walking. Then a heavy babiche line is stretched from one side bench in the kashim to the other over the top of the fire hole. A man who is adept in this art takes off his parka, turns it inside out so that the hair will make it easier to put on, and after removing his boots attempts to walk the line carrying the parka with him. If he succeeds in reaching the middle of the fire hole, he tries to put on the parka again. If he is successful, he completes the tightrope walking to the opposite bench. Then if he wishes to show himself a true master, he turns around and repeats the journey, this time taking off his parka when he arrives over the fire hole. It may be noted that when tightrope walking is in progress, the cover boards of the fireplace are not removed, and thus injury is not added to embarrassment when one falls. Still another way in which a man can show his balancing ability is by walking on

50

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

his hands. Alternate boards have one end dropped into the fireplace. The performer raises himself on his hands on the first board with his knees outside his elbows and then walks to the next, bridging the gap as he goes. If really proficient, he turns around and returns to the starting point. Quite different from most of the games which are played in the kashim during the spring, is that which is played with a fish-shaped peg and a board with three holes of differing size. Two men play at one time, one holding the piece of wood with the holes an inch or two off the ground while the other attempts to toss the peg so that it will land upright in one of the holes. Each player has two tosses but may continue as long as he is successful. Each time a player succeeds he takes one of ten counting sticks from a pile between his opponent and himself. To make the throw, he takes the peg in his hand, holding the fish tail end between his thumb and first finger. Generally he hits the ground with the end of the peg once before each toss, which is more a matter of habit than anything else. Then he balances the peg for a moment on top of his first finger. This is done almost directly above the board with three holes. Finally he tosses the peg in the air letting go of the tail with a twist so that the point describes a 270° arc toward him, to land, it is hoped, in the largest of the three holes. When one player has won all of the ten counting sticks by successful throws beginning from the top of the first finger and landing in the largest hole, the game is then continued from the starting point of the second finger and so on until all the fingers have been used. After that, the procedure is carried out with the opposite hand. All of this is done first with the largest hole, then with the middle-sized one, and finally with the smallest. Summer recreation. Most of the summer the people are too busy to spend much time in sports or games. Before the run of salmon begins, and particularly after it is over, there are some special types of recreation, however. Young men, for example, enjoy racing in their canoes. When a canoe race is suggested among a group of people, the contestants set off leisurely to some designated place perhaps half a mile away where they will line up under the direction of some old man who goes along with them for that purpose. When he sees a fair start he yells, “All right.” The men then paddle as effectively as they can to see which canoe can first reach the place where they have left the rest of the people. Another summer contest occurs when a group of men decide to test their skill with the bow and arrow. This is sometimes done on a long sand bar where members of the group shoot in turn at a piece of birch bark, perhaps two feet square, hung up on the end of a willow which has been stuck into the sand. A ring about six inches in diameter may be made with a piece of charcoal in the center of the target. There is no scoring or gambling connected with the contest, and the satisfaction is derived from mutual recognition of skill. The same men may also try to shoot for the greatest distance, each man standing on the same line and releasing one arrow. The group then goes forward to see the results, each man being able to recognize his own arrow. Sometimes when a group of young men and women are on a sand bar, some man

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

51

will bring out a spruce pole about ten feet long and the boys will quickly peel it. Then they will persuade the girls to grab one end and a tug of war is on. Such a contest is by no means one-sided, as Indian women are very strong. If one knows the animal’s ceremony, one will recognize that this particular form of the tug of war is merely an imitation of the winter performance. Alter the effort of summer fishing is over and the people have returned to their winter residences, some man will make a swing near the edge of the village by tying the ends of a babiche line near the tops of the trunks of two trees spaced ten feet or more apart. Cottonwood trees are preferable for this purpose. In the bottom of the loop thus formed, an old grass mat or a piece of birch bark is wrapped around the line to make a seat. A man who starts swinging is generally pushed by another and consequently reaches considerable height. Sometimes women swing by them¬ selves, but sail to and fro in a smaller arc. Younger children are not allowed on the swing as it is feared that they would become dizzy and fall. Certainly the most popular recreation in the summer is the toss ball game which is played on the smooth hard field of the playing ground after the mosquitoes have gone. The most striking thing about this sport is that a group of men and women play it together. One man has the ball which is of a size to hold conveniently in the hand and is made of caribou skin stuffed with grass and a little mud to add weight. When one man tries to throw it to another, the women will try to intercept the ball and if one succeeds, she will try to throw it to another woman. Almost inevitably there are times when a man attempts to take the ball directly out of a woman’s hand or a woman attempts to pull it away from a man. In that event there may well be a general scrimmage with women and men piling on top of each other in the effort to obtain the ball. The game is played frequently in the late summer evenings and one can hear the yelling and screaming as darkness closes in. Children are not al¬ lowed at the playing ground because the game is too rough, but old people enjoy watching from the sidelines. Winter recreation. Although various ceremonies provide the principal recreation during the winter, there are also games suitable to the season of ice and snow. One of these is a game of ball played with a racket about three feet long carved out of one piece of spruce wood with one end left in the shape of a spoon. The ball itself is made by wrapping split spruce roots around a core of grass until it is four or five inches in diameter. Once the ball is thrown in the air, the game is to keep it from touching the ground by means of the spoon-shaped clubs. The game is played on any open space by younger boys. Grown men consider it childish. A sport, which takes its name, snow-snake, from the implement used, is played on the river ice in front of the village by both boys and men. To play, two little blocks of snow are set up about eight inches high and a convenient distance apart. On these a snow-snake is rested with its end pointing slightly upward. The snowsnake is simply a spruce pole about five feet long which has been cut down to a straight rod slightly larger than a finger, with one end pointed and the other left big enough so that it will not split when struck with a birch stick. When the snow-

52

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

snake has been mounted on the blocks of snow, the player strikes the butt end with a full swing of a birch stick, thus driving the snow-snake as far as he can along the ice or hard snow. The next player then puts down two more blocks of snow and rests his snow-snake on them. With a hard blow he attempts to outdistance his predecessor. Another sport which takes place on the ice of the river in front of the village is the hoop and pole game. Two men stand about thirty feet apart, each with a spear¬ like pole about three feet long with feathers on the end. Two other men a little farther apart, and on a perpendicular axis to the first two, roll willow hoops toward each other. These hoops which are about two and a half feet in diameter are thrown overhand. Each man with a pole attempts to throw it through the hoop rolled by the man to his left. If the thrower fails, he is replaced by another man, and the first person who penetrates a hoop ten times in succession is the winner of the game. A rougher game played on the clear fall ice or on the hard wind-blown snow of late winter is shinny. A shinny stick is about four feet long with one end of graspable size and the other slightly flattened out. Frozen dog excrement, which is available in round white balls, is used for the puck. The game starts with boys and men in a circle, each individual eight or ten feet from the next. One man strikes the puck trying to dribble it out of the circle on the opposite side. This attempt is blocked by the man nearest to the place where the first player is attempting to drive the puck through. If the second player succeeds in gaining control of the puck, he himself tries to take it outside of the circle. The real excitement starts, however, when some¬ one has succeeded in escaping and makes off with the puck. Then all the players go after him and try to take it away in any direction they can. He will generally not get far, however, as the puck is apt to break soon after it leaves the circle because it cannot be struck many times. The game gets very rough, and people may hit each other which makes them very angry. Women never play and children are told by their mothers to stay away from the games, but some will join in nonetheless and frequently get hurt in the scramble of players who are fighting for the puck. A milder form of recreation is skipping rope. This pastime is indulged in by young and old of both sexes, and in summer as well as in winter. The proper procedure is for the persons holding the ends of the line to twist it in an arc so as to strike the ground once in each direction. Then the jumper runs in between them and the proc¬ ess of striking the ground on both sides of him is repeated again. After this prelimi¬ nary, the line is swung continuously in one direction until the jumper fails to avoid it, after which someone else takes his place. “Bear eye” is a game which is primarily associated with the Animal’s ceremony. This is a sort of quoit game played with a hoop about seven inches in diameter made from a thin piece of fish trap stick. When it is used on ordinary occasions, an old man who has made the hoop throws it into the middle of the kashim floor and says, “You boys can play with that one.” Then a small stick is set up vertically in a crack in the middle of the fire hole cover, and men take turns throwing the single hoop from opposite corners of the kashim. Each individual has ten chances to throw the hoop over the stake, success in which is supposed to bring him the good fortune

OSGOOD: INGALIIv SOCIAL CULTURE

53

of killing a bear. Also, it should be noted, that the person who first accepts the hoop from some old man is expected to bring in food for the men in the kashim. Wrestling. One of the most important sports among the Ingalik is a wrestling match between two men and it may take place any time, either in the kashim or outside. The match starts by each man putting his right arm over his opponent’s left shoulder and his left arm under the opponent’s right arm. Sometimes, for varia¬ tion, the position of the arms may be reversed. Such a reversal is intentional and not simply the result of left-handedness, however. Once the arms are in position, each man attempts to throw the other flat on his back. The men may struggle a considerable time or one may throw the other quickly as the result of either superior skill or overwhelming strength. Crushing an opponent is often a vital factor in winning, but a contestant may not bite, kick, strike, or tickle in his attempts to master his opponent. One does not see a man wrestle with his father or son, or even a brother. Also, a boy will not wrestle with any of his uncles and certainly not with a person of the opposite sex. On the other hand, unmarried girls may wrestle in secluded places among the willows, but they always stop if a man approaches. They, too, will not wrestle with relatives corresponding to those who are taboo for men. Wrestling stands out from all other sports or games, for any Indian watching a match knows that this activity can become one of the commonest ex¬ pressions of interpersonal aggression. In such instances, however, there are not re¬ strictions on the methods employed. Shamanistic Practices and Other Coercive Interventions

Councils. Behavior which is contrary to that approved by the influential people of the community may cause a group reaction. If, for example, a man becomes notorious as a thief, people will inevitably talk about it in private, then, on the occurrence of some shocking transgression, a man may suggest a public discussion in the kashim. After the fire has died down in the evening, the older men review the aberrant behavior and consider what should be done to the offender. Children and women may listen, but generally only the old ones remain who thus become the representatives and messengers of their sex. A decision made, the offender is usually brought in and given a lecture with promises of what punishment will be inflicted if he does not mend his ways. A strong character who assumes the leadership of the council for the occasion tells him that he may be driven away from the community or killed. It is said that in the past when such warnings had no effect, a man was hung from a branch of a tree without his clothes and left to freeze. If the condemned person were young, and his father present, his father would be so much ashamed that he could not even say anything. Besides thieves, young men who annoy married women with their sexual demands are also brought before such a council. Female misbehavior, on the other hand, is dealt with by the women themselves, who bring the miscreant into the house where she sits with her head down in shame while the mothers of the village express their righteous indignation. Blood revenge. In retaliation for what the Ingalik regard as murder, responsive

54

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

behavior is usually initiated without any organized activity on the part of the vil¬ lage council. The latter will only convene in a case where repeated murders by the same man cannot otherwise be controlled. When one person is killed by another, whether by foresighted intention or in a burst of passion, or even by accident, re¬ venge may be carried out by any capable individual in the relationship of father, son, brother, or either uncle of the deceased. Even a grandfather or grandson may act if he has the strength and the courage. Although cousins and other relatives are not considered as having the right to avenge a death, exceptions occur as the fol¬ lowing account will illustrate. Once a man had a partner, a very good friend, who was murdered, but the latter had no close relatives except a sister. About a year after the death occurred, the surviving partner was in the village of the murderer who, being spoken to, was sullen and finally refused to continue what was purely a social conversation. The murdered man’s friend asked, “Why won’t you talk to me?” but the other answered, “I have nothing to say to you.” Suddenly all the anger was recalled which this visitor had felt at his friend’s death, and drawing his knife he drove it into the man’s heart. He walked away from the body and returned to his own village. Someone carried the corpse to the graveyard and put it on top of a coffin. About two days later, the friend who had killed in revenge was visited by his victim’s father, brother, and uncle. They said, “You had no business to kill that boy.” “I know that,” he answered, “but he talked to me without politeness and having already killed my best friend, it made me mad and I killed him. You would do the same in the circumstances.” The relatives were impressed by the statement and after considering the char¬ acter of the one who had just been killed, they concluded that perhaps it was better that he was dead. When they were about to start back to their village, the man who had revenged his friend thought, “If I ever go to their village they may change their mind.” So he went to his cache and brought some presents which he put in front of them. They accepted the gifts and went away leaving the donor content that his future was safe. Such a resolution of a murder is unusual, however, and the consequences are often a blood feud. A woman very rarely commits a murder, but she may do it out of jealousy. A man may kill a woman, however, but this also is very apt to lead to revenge as the killing of females is in general contracultural. This is the story of an old man who knew personally of such a murder. “When I was about nine years old, there lived next to our summer house a woman who called to me whenever I went outside. When I would go to her she would hold me on her lap. She had a hard time with her husband who was always staying with one woman or another despite the admonitions of his parents. One day this woman, who had no children, became very angry at her husband and said, ‘What’s the matter with you? Don’t you know that I treat you like my own child? If you do not want me, leave me and go someplace else!’ Then her husband became angry and started to fight, but his young wife gained the advantage over him. Her mother

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

55

separated them. The husband was not satisfied, however, and he grabbed a stick of firewood and hit his wife over the head smashing her skull. Seeing what he had done, the husband ran for the woods, but the girl’s brother was right behind him and he caught the wife killer around the waist. Other people came up but the brother said, ‘Leave me alone.’ No one touched them and the brother of the dead woman squeezed his brother-in-law to death breaking his ribs in the process.” Sometimes feuds start when the instigation is wholly accidental. A boy, for ex¬ ample, may persuade another to go canoeing with him. If the canoe tips over and one of the boys is drowned, the latter’s father may then kill the other boy, an act which is very likely to start a cycle of blood revenge. The story of “Bent-nose” illustrates a similar occurrence. When “Bent-nose” was about six years old, he lived in a house with two other unrelated families, one of which had a son about his own age. One afternoon after the freeze-up, the two boys were coming home in the autumn darkness. “Bent-nose’s” companion climbed up on top of their winter house. The evening fire had not been made and the smoke hole cover was still in place. The boy began to rub his hand over it for it was frosted and smooth. “Bent-nose” yelled to him to keep away, but the glistening frost ap¬ parently made him think it was strong. He stepped on it and went crashing through to the fireplace beneath. When the surprised people inside the house picked him up, they discovered that he had broken both an arm and a leg. A shaman, who was called, immediately blew on the injured parts, afterward wrapping the broken limbs in heavy birch bark. Everyone in the house wept and even from the outside the child could be heard moaning, so badly was he hurt. The next morning the injured boy died. The father and mother of the dead child thought “Bent-nose” had pushed their son through the smoke hole because “Bent-nose” had the reputa¬ tion of being a lynx. The father tried to scare “Bent-nose” into admitting that he had pushed his housemate, but even though he threatened to kill him, the boy would not admit this untruth. One night during the next summer, the father of the dead boy saw “Bent-nose” walking all alone on the beach and called to him. “Bent-nose” saw the look on his face and ran because he believed the man might drown him. He was so frightened that he hid in the bushes all night. When the boys came to play on the beach in the morning as usual, he felt safe and joined them. There he met his own father who was looking for him, and he described to him what had happened. His father took him home and, seeing the other man, sent “Bent-nose” into the house. “Bent-nose” heard his father talking to the other man and then wrestling with him. After that “Bent-nose’s” family moved out of the house and made a new one in the fall with “Bent-nose’s” mother’s father and his father’s brother, having spent the interim season at their fish camp. The next year the families were good friends again, and the dead boy’s father gave “Bent-nose” a muskrat parka. The most dangerous of all killings is the murder of a shaman. A man who does such a thing must darken his eyes and the whole area of his upper face with charcoal. According to tradition, a man who kills a shaman must sit in the corner under the

56

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

bench for three or four days. No one touches such a man since it is believed that at the end of this period he will commit suicide as a result of the medicine which the shaman will make. So rarely does anyone dare to kill a shaman, however, that it is impossible to tell whether this is true. The shaman. At “Red-stone” lives a very great shaman as one may see from the fact that the skin of his most powerful medicine animal is tied to a post at the back of the kashim. Everyone knows that this little owl with its black-and-white spotted back feathers will give an alarm and break loose from the post if danger threatens the village. That is one reason why the “Red-stone” doctor is greatly respected besides being generally feared. “Red-stone” has been distinguished by its shamans for several generations. The cemetery on the near-by hill contains several shamans’ coffin houses, one of which still shows clearly the painting of an animal on the roof boards. Certainly no one would make such an elaborate place of interment for any¬ one except a powerful shaman, but if anyone doubts, then let him go close enough to discover that the top boards of the coffins are loose. Only a shaman will have them this way as only he will have the power to get out. Once a young boy who ran away from home slept on top of a shaman’s coffin under the roof, to escape from the rain. When he told his mother about this a few days later, she was frightened almost to death for fear the shaman had stolen his spirit. Nothing happened, however, which shows that sometimes things turn out better than expected. When someone is ill or suffers an accident, the shaman is almost sure to be invited in for a cure. The treatment of the sick always varies a little, but in general, what one sees is much the same. The shaman may examine his patient and then he will almost certainly blow on his own hands, rubbing the sick person afterward. If the pain is in one place, he will rub where it hurts. This treatment only lasts for a minute or so, then the shaman will tap gently on his tambourine drum and begin to sing one of his medicine songs. When a shaman is famous like the “Red-stone” doctor, some of the villagers learn such a song just from hearing it so often, and the shaman may ask them to join in the singing. If the cure is successful, the shaman will have discovered the cause of the illness. Perhaps it is some food, the spirit of which has become dangerous to the person. If so, he will tell the patient never to eat it again on the pain of death. Most people obey. As is inevitable, and despite the assistance of doctors, some people die. Then the shaman makes medicine privately to discover the source of evil and explains that he could not find out in time to save the victim because the offending spirit was too strong. When called to aid a sick baby, a sha¬ man by dreaming may find out that the trouble results from the fact that the person who is reincarnated in the child has been irritated in some way. When a man has the misfortune to lose a number of children in succession by death, he may become so concerned that he asks the shaman to do something for his protection. One day when a man asked the “Red-stone” doctor to help him, the shaman directed him to collect some wild roses. After he had found them and brought them to the doctor, the latter took them to the house where the children had died, beating its upper wall all around and also the floor with the flowers. Then

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

57

he told the man to place a dried dog salmon head in each corner. As anyone who understands such things will know, the whipping with this plant by the doctor made the house difficult for evil spirits to find and even if they did succeed, the salmon heads would bark at them and they would be frightened away. Evil spirits are a problem as the following story will show. One night when “Bent-nose’s” grandfather was a boy, he left home to go to the kashim. His mother, as she frequently did, admonished him to be quiet and to behave himself. He went to the kashim, but that night after the lights had been turned out, the boys began to play tricks. One put a hot coal near a sleeper’s heel and another tied a wood maul to a sleeping man’s hair, placing it near the edge of the bench where he eventually knocked it off to his shrieking surprise. As if this were not enough, when things had quieted down again, somebody tied the hair of two men together and then woke one of them. After some hours of this mad behavior, a “devil-spirit” was heard in the entryway. Everyone was paralyzed. Soon another “devil-spirit” was heard talking at the fire hole. Everyone could hardly breathe. Finally one boy who was suffocating, and a rather worthless fellow at that, dashed out of the kashim and returned with a shaman. The latter took a parka belonging to one of the men and began to shake it as a dog shakes a rat, but more slowly. This was in order to talk to the “devils.” Then after about five minutes he told the men to get on the cover of the fireplace and to jump up and down. When they did this, the four large round sticks which hold the smoke hole cover fell inside. One man was hurt by being hit on the shoulder. Two others ran outside in their fright. When they returned, they reported that the smoke hole cover was floating in the middle of the river. As the shaman explained, it was the “devils” shooting bodily out through the smoke hole which had caused the edge pieces to fall in and the cover to sail into the river, all because these “devil-spirits” had so much “wind” with them. The same experience has happened at other times, and the people of the vil¬ lage are grateful when their shaman saves the lives of the men in the kashim. Ordinarily when one is cured of a disease by a shaman, payment will be made by that person or by members of his family. Since the reputation of a doctor is one of the factors in determining the price that he is paid, it is natural that he will do what he can to make his name a symbol of power, and he is encouraged by the people periodically to put on demonstrations of his superhuman qualities. There is one shaman, for example, who derives power from the “fire-spirit” which is a rare thing. Some man may challenge him by saying, “If you know the ‘fire-spirit’ we will put you in the fireplace and see what will happen.” If the shaman decides to give the people a lesson, he agrees. A large fire is laid in the fire hole at the kashim and the shaman stands on top of this pile of wood. Then the fire is lighted and the doctor stands there with arms outstretched, moving up and down by bending his knees. Then the onlookers must leave since, as any shaman will explain, to be too close to a shaman’s manifestation of power would certainly result in blindness for the person who saw it. The people therefore go outside, one last man watching to see that the fire is well started. Finally the shaman tells him also to leave.

58

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

When the people come back into the kashim after the fire has died down, the shaman is sitting in the middle of the bench. Some people may ask him, Did you stay in the fire?” When he says, “Yes,” people believe him. Although some people may doubt the honesty of shamans in public demonstra¬ tions, there are always unexpected events which prove their power. One evening “Salmon-hitter” came to the house of the “Red-stone” doctor to pay his respects. As the shaman lighted the lamp, one bright spark jumped to the top of his head. “Salmon-hitter” asked the doctor what it was that he had seen, and the doctor explained that he had been getting power from a “rabbit spirit” and from a “minkspirit” and that some other shaman had been trying to take these sources of power away from him. He said nothing more for about twenty minutes but seemed to be struggling inside. Then he was all right again and talked to “Salmon-hitter ex¬ plaining that someone had gotten his “mink-spirit” but not his “rabbit-spirit.” He added rather cheerfully that he would probably get it back some time. Two years later the “Red-stone” doctor came to call on “Salmon-hitter.” The latter pointed out in their conversations that he had not seen any signs of mink in the woods that year, whereupon the doctor jumped up, lifting his parka on the left side. A live mink stuck his head out and made the usual little mink squeal. There is no doubt in such a demonstration because he showed the same thing to several other men that year. The local shaman who had lost some respect, so he felt, showed the men in the kashim a sample of his own power. Taking his tambourine drum by the handle, he swept it through the air in front of him four times. When he had finished there was a noise as though someone had thrown a little stick at the drum. He stepped up on the cover boards of the fire hole and held the drum up against the light of the smoke hole asking those who wished, to look. In the center of the drum cover there ap¬ peared a tiny thing about the size of a red currant. Then the shaman put the drum over his hand and the “spirit,” for such it was, disappeared in his palm. Then he threw the “spirit” up in the air, showing everyone that his hand was empty. Then he reached out and caught it again. He held out his hand and the “spirit” was in it. He blew on it once. It could be seen moving—a little man no bigger than a berry. Then he let it go, for it was the spirit of a living person. Soon after the first gun had been traded from the Russians on the Kuskokwim River, there was a shaman at Shageluk who demonstrated his power by remaining uninjured when shot at. Taking his gun he would start in the corner of the kashim at the left of the door and reach for an imaginary gun rod. Then in the second corner he put in imaginary powder, in the third, the wadding, and in the last, he primed the gun. Then he gave the weapon to a man who was present, and the shaman told him to aim it at him and pull the trigger, warning, however, that the man doing the shooting must have faith or the shaman would be hurt. Then at the signal, which was the cry of the shaman’s “spirit-animal,” the man shot the gun which went off with a loud noise. The shaman staggered backward, people grabbing him to prevent his falling over. As he staggered, smoke began to emerge from his mouth

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

59

and he spat up bullets. Some men did not believe that he had been shot, however, so he challenged anyone to bring his own gun and load it. When one man did so, the gun was given to the first shooter who had the necessary faith in the shaman. The same thing happened all over and the people said nothing more. This Shageluk doctor was an extraordinary man. Many people have seen him struck all over with a birch maul by his son. Curiously the maul just bounces off without the slightest damage to his body. There are shamans here and shamans there, but everyone agrees that none has more power than the “Red-stone” doctor. Everyone remembers the year when the fish did not come and the people were worried. When all had gathered in the kashim, he admitted that he knew something about the cause, and he told his son to go out and get his drum frame and the skin cover. Someone stretched it for him and put it on. Then he warmed it before the fire and sat down. As he began to drum a little and to sing, the people knew that he was getting his medicine ready. All night long he just sat, sang a little and drummed a little. The next morning he told the people to sing for him and some people went and got more drums ready, and that evening all the people sang and the drums were beaten. They sang all the songs they knew, first one from this ceremony and then one from that. Then on the third evening the shaman said to the people, “Let me try anyway and if I do not come back it is all right.” He told them to prepare a stick several feet long like a broom handle with a loon’s head carved on the end. When this was done, a few stripes of red paint and some feathers were added to make it look right. Then the “Red-stone” doctor put on a new muskrat parka and, taking the stick, went down to the edge of the river. There men lashed two canoes parallel and about four feet apart with poles between for the shaman to sit on. Just before the shaman climbed onto the platform, he told one man that when morning came he was to go periodically to the river and listen, and he also warned that while he was gone, no one was to lie down, not even the babies. Then he got on the platform and while beating his drum and singing his songs, two men paddled him out into the river. When the canoes had stopped in the center of the stream, the shaman, making the cry of some water animal, stepped down into the water still holding onto the poles connecting the canoes. Curiously the canoes acted as though anchored. The sha¬ man faced down river holding his stick and wherever he stepped the water did not touch him. Shaking himself and singing, the shaman went lower and lower, the water disappearing from beneath his feet but surrounding him as in a whirlpool. Lower and lower he went until the water was even with his head. Then as he dis¬ appeared altogether, some loon cried out. The two men in the canoes paddled back to shore for the canoes began to drift as soon as the shaman was gone. They joined the others in the kashim, all the men and women as well, some holding up their sleeping babies. There the men sang and drummed all during the night. Toward morning, the fellow who was asked by the shaman, went out to the river once in a while to listen. As the light in the sky appeared, he ran back to the kashim

60

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

and said, “I heard loons on the water.” Then the black-and-white spotted owl fastened to the shaman’s post at the back of the kashim began to make a noise as though it were crying. The people kept up their singing and drumming. It was not long before the shaman came in through the door, but he had shrunk to about four feet in height. His clothes were perfectly dry, but his stick was gone. He walked around the kashim four times making medicine, going down on one foot by bending his knees and then on the other, with his hands behind his back but not singing or speaking. As he did this he began to grow to his full height again. Then the shaman went to each corner and made more medicine. He made a cry like a loon, bowing his head low toward the corner. After turning toward the center of the room, he blew from his mouth four times. Then he stopped and someone asked, “How are those people?” referring to the loons. “I couldn’t get them to go,” he answered. “Where is your stick?” “They took it.” “It is all right then,” the questioner announced. “I am not sure they will come, but you look for them tomorrow night.” After this exchange, the doctor went to his place on the bench and started drum¬ ming with his own drum, telling the people, “Don’t pay any attention to me, just get your nets ready.” The people went off to prepare their nets. The shaman drummed and made medicine all day, but in the evening he stopped. The next morning every man went out in a canoe. Whenever anyone caught a fish, that person made a noise like a loon. Some fish had feathers in their mouths. Then someone caught a fish with a piece of the shaman’s stick between its teeth. In any case, the men made a noise like a loon. Finally the shaman told his wife, “I guess I’ll go fishing too.” He took his net and his canoe and went across the river and caught five fish in no time at all. The fish found out that it was the shaman’s dip net, however, and began to play with it to fool him. This made the “Red-stone” doctor so mad that he went ashore and threw the five fish in his net as far as he could. Then he went home and his wife went out fishing for him. She didn’t catch many, but it did not matter for the people gave lots of fish to the shaman. One can see from such an account how powerful a shaman can be. The old “Red¬ stone” doctor died suddenly. He just collapsed one day while hitching his dogs. His body was stiff for three days and got soft on the fourth, but he did not breathe any more. When they washed him, they discovered that his back was all blue. Apart from such performances as have just been recounted, a shaman plays an important role in the winter ceremonies, as we shall see. Sometimes a shaman will remind the people of this function as in the following case. One day, as people were arriving from the invited village for a partner’s potlatch, the shaman of the host village paddled out in front of the gathering populace in a woman’s canoe with three men in hunting canoes alongside to hold his steady. Then they turned toward the people on the bank. The shaman was carrying a mask and he placed it face down in front of him, afterward putting a muskrat parka on top

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

61

of the mask. Then he put his head down on the parka and, raising himself up again, showed that the mask was stuck to the parka in front of his face although no one held it. This he did four times and the men in the canoe all cried, “Aw-aw-aw,” because they were proud of this shaman. Some might doubt his power, but others knew that it was real because they had seen him lift a mask in this fashion while visiting in his house. How does a shaman become possessed with such power? Sometimes a young man, as he grows up, has a noticeable change of character. He refuses to work, preferring to lie down and sleep. No one can make him do anything. All winter he does nothing and his father wonders what is the trouble. Is he going to be a shaman, or perhaps he is sick? The father asks what is the matter, “Are you sick?” “No,” answers the youth. “Then go for some wood,” says the father. The boy brings in one load and lies down on the bench again and goes to sleep. After a while the youth begins to act a little crazily, singing and whirling around and around. Then he goes into the woods and his father knows that he is going to be a doctor. He does not follow after him even though the boy may have too little clothing and nothing on his feet. When the boy returns, he may go into the kashim. He lacks mittens, his body is steaming, and there is ice on his chest. Then he goes up on the roof, dancing and singing around the edge of the smoke hole. That night after the cover has been put on and the people lie down to sleep, he comes into the kashim and dances some more. No one pays any attention to him and the next day he lies under the bench for twenty-four hours or more. This peculiar behavior may continue for a year and then he who has become a shaman will stop and act sanely. His grandfather perhaps makes fun of him, “Are you a good doctor? Then I will try you out,” he exclaims. So the grandfather gets a friend, and they put the young shaman on a mat in the middle of the kashim floor and with babiche line tie his arms under his drawn-up legs. Then they put him back in the corner. Then the boy asks to be covered up with a mat. They do this and everyone goes away remaining quiet. The young shaman makes a noise like his medicine animal, and the people come back to find him lying out straight as though he were dead and the babiche line at his feet with the same knots in it. Then the young doctor makes four sounds like wind blowing and comes to life. His grandfather says, “You gave us a headache for a year, but you are all right now.” Perhaps the grandfather will make the young shaman repeat his performance in each corner of the house and last of all on top of the boards covering the fire hole. If the young shaman under the mat can escape there from the babiche cord where everyone can see, all the people know that he will become a great shaman indeed. Trade and Warfare

Trade. Among all people some individuals like to travel more than do others. It is the same with the Ingalik. One man who is restless or who has had troubles may like to go to some other village and visit his friends. Most of the people, however,

62

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

do not move around much except between their various dwelling places or on a ceremonial occasion when they, as part of a large group, accept the invitation of some other village for a feast. Other regular occasions for mobility result from such activities as trade or war, and these we can consider in turn. Ingalik men within their known world are noted for their skill in manufacturing various implements. There is a demand beyond their own circle of villages for these things and particularly among the Eskimo of Norton Sound. One village about a day’s travel along the coast eastward from St. Michael is the focal point for the exchange of goods. Most of the trading journeys are undertaken immediately after the freeze-up in the fall or just before the breakup of the ice in the spring. A man with a penchant for trade, and with the motivation of adventure and profit, sets out with a sled load of wood bowls, wolverine skins, and other things valued by the Eskimo, which he expects to exchange for seal oil and sea mammal skins. Such an individual may travel alone, but he is more often accompanied by one or two younger men whom he inveigles into making the trip. These companions, of course, are essential in helping to push and to pull his sled if he wishes to transport much of a load. The route is a relatively well-known one following the course of the Anvik River to “Under-the-rocks” village, then up Otter Creek which cuts a twisting course from the western hills and is dangerous because of overflows. Since the snow piles up in the area, it takes a long time to reach the crest of the divide which is called “Run-to-the-end,” a name that is derived from the custom of making each new¬ comer run to the end of the ridge on his first trip. From that point the journey is relatively easy although there may be so little snow that it is hard to pull the sled. Altogether eight days may be consumed in reaching the village especially when traps are set along the way (to be picked up on the return), but the visitors are cordially received. An Ingalik man, ordinarily traveling without his wife, may ac¬ cept the hospitable offer of his host to live with an Eskimo woman for a few weeks before returning home. The enthusiastic Ingalik trader may make several trips in a year. Less often do Eskimo make the journey to Anvik, and in such cases the courtesy of supplying the visitor with a temporary wife is not usually reciprocated; likewise, intermarriage seldom occurs between the two groups. Besides the journeys undertaken specifically for trade, parties of Eskimo and Ingalik meet more or less by chance when caribou hunting in the hills separating their respective domains. These contacts are friendly and the people often take advantage of such meetings to exchange desired articles. It may be noted that some of the Anvik people speak a little Eskimo, and some of the latter know a few words of Ingalik. Trade also extends southward to the Eskimo region of the Kuskokwim River. For example, a man at Shageluk may make two birch bark hunting canoes with the intention of selling them. When he has finished he will take his wife’s canoe and some young man to accompany him and set off down river, towing the smaller

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

63

canoes which are for sale. Passing over the Paimute portage, the entrance to which was kept hidden by the traders, they paddle down the Kuskokwim, visiting Eskimo villages until their canoes are sold for a satisfactory price, perhaps obtaining three to seven bundles of forty-five squirrel skins for each. Then the men return in the larger one. The Eskimo on the Kuskokwim River appreciate birch bark canoes because they are easier to paddle than their kaiaks which become heavy after being soaked in water. The birch bark canoes do not have to be dried and re-oiled. Sometimes the goods are traded for what the Ingalik call “bones,” the dentalia or shell from a large scaphopod indigenous to the north Pacific coast. These “bones” have a monetary value in trade and are also worn in earrings, nose pendants, neck¬ laces, wristlets, and belts around the waist. Unless a man is using them for purposes of trade, he gives them to his wife or daughter, who becomes rich-looking when she wears them as ornaments. Since some of the Ingalik villages along the Yukon and Kuskokwim rivers are adjacent to those of the Eskimo, contact between these people is more frequent than among the Indians of the Anvik-Shageluk group. In consequence, some intermarriage takes place. On the other hand, trade is not so simple a matter, for the Eskimo juxtaposed on the rivers are capable of acquiring or making for themselves what the Indians have to offer. Therefore, the latter must go further afield, which they sometimes do, constructing skin boats and journeying all the way to the coast in search for an advantageous opportunity to trade. Inevitably, on trading expeditions, trouble may ensue. A man showing his goods may have someone provoke him in the bargaining. Perhaps quite independently of such exchange, active aggression may lead to accidental or intentional killing. Because of the fact that such a misfortune is an out-group affair, what otherwise might have become a matter of simple revenge can extend into warfare. Between the Athapaskans themselves, there is less trade. If the people of “Anvikmouth” are short of oil, they may try to acquire some by bartering with their neigh¬ bors, but this is exceptional. Trade with the Koyukon group up the river is most casual since these people do not use the wood bowls which are the principal item offered by the Anvik-Shageluk Indians. Further, since the Koyukon conduct their own trade with the Eskimo, the Ingalik cannot operate profitably as intermediaries although the former do so with their countrymen on the upper Innoko River. In the latter business, the Ingalik are competitors. Warfare. The Ingalik are traditionally a peaceful people much more given to trade than to war. Furthermore, the old men say that they never fought with the Eskimo or with any group of the Ingalik except that centering around McGrath and occupying the drainage of the upper Kuskokwim River. The Ingalik juxtaposed to the Eskimo on the rivers fought with the Eskimo, however. It was the Athapas¬ kans of the upper Yukon and upper Innoko rivers who were the traditional oppo¬ nents in internecine raids. Because of an insignificant difficulty, sometimes tension was built up over a number of years before an actual attack was carried out. Again, a raid might be returned for a raid. If trouble were imminent, there was sure to be unusual atten-

64

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

tion given to bow-and-arrow practice with men making a mock battle on a sand bar. Ten men on a side, perhaps two hundred feet apart, would shoot arrows at each other. The bone or horn tips had, of course, been removed. When a person was hit, he was required to drop out of the contest. Seldom was anyone hurt in such competitions, but it was more dangerous when an outstanding warrior, kneeling with his bow resting on the ground in front of him, allowed himself to be shot at by five men at once from a distance of a hundred feet, even though the arrows were tipless. The kneeling man attempted either to knock down with his bow or to dodge the arrows that were shot at him. When the time comes for an actual attack, besides their bows and arrows with the barbed points and raven feather vanes, the men prepare other weapons. These consist of a lance such as is used in killing bears, a heavy bone club weighted and strengthened with caribou oil, and a black stone knife up to a foot and a half long. The men going on a war party carry new clothes with them to put on just before the attack so that if they are killed, they will leave the Ingalik world properly dressed. Success in war depends very largely upon surprise and, consequently, attacks have to be undertaken in the dark of the night. This, of course, means that such raids seldom, if ever, occur in the middle of summer, at which time people are in any event preoccupied by fishing. Also, the middle of the winter is apt to be prohibitively cold. In the fall then, or early spring, the war party, having duly decided in council to attack, approaches in pitch darkness from the depth of the woods the village to be destroyed. A little fire is made and while the warriors huddle around it, one man is asked to reconnoiter the enemy village. Sometimes several fellows have to be suggested before one will agree. A man who has the “fogsong” is especially good for the task. He goes to the village and looks all around it, listening at the smoke holes to hear if anyone is awake. Then he returns to his party. If everything proves to be propitious, the men take poles and make short sections of fence such as are used with fish traps. Just before dawn they rush into the village and block up the doors of the houses and the kashim. Then with drawn bows they shoot their arrows through the smoke holes at the men in the dwellings. If the men break out of a house or the kashim, there is hand-to-hand warfare, but the attackers have an overwhelming advantage. Fire may also be used to smoke out the cornered occupants of the kashim. In any event, all the men who are trapped will be killed, but death is not brought intentionally to women or children, although some are killed accidentally and the rest nearly frightened to death by the cries of the warriors who yell “yi-yi” as they close in for the struggle. When the killing is over, the caches of the enemy are looted for valuable goods. The looters are like a pack of snarling dogs, each man getting the most that he can and the strongest a great deal, while weak men obtain little. The women are also raped by men who admit that this violation is an important inducement to battle. Then, when all the excitement is over, the dead are gathered, both friends and enemies, and burned together in a tremendous cremation pyre constructed from

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

65

the wood of the village buildings. The treatment of the dead seldom varies from that at an ordinary cremation, although it has been reported that a warrior may eat the eye of a respected opponent whom he has killed. When such a thing is done, it is for the purpose of gaining an enemy’s power. Finally the successful attackers set off for home with the captive women and children as well as such new clothes, valuable skins, and other property that each man has been able to capture. It is said that in one not too successful raid by the Koyukon, an attacker was captured. The Anvik people cut off his lower lip, which act was like giving him a number. They kept the unfortunate man all summer and then sent him home to tell his people that if any of them came raiding again they would be killed. It is notable in the conflicts with the Koyukon Athapaskans that the Hologochakat people were also sufferers from upriver attacks, whereas they never fought with the Ingalik, a fact indicating that the familiarity of close proximity may offset a basic linguistic and cultural affinity. The Lesser Ceremonies and “Putting Down” for Prestige or Privilege

The feast of the eclipse. The Ingalik regard an eclipse of the moon or the sun as a bad sign and a premonition of bloodshed and disaster. An eclipse of the moon is first noted by a shining film which covers this luminary. Only an individual with the “moon song” dare look at this unusual phenomenon. The rest of the people immediately gather up their tools, which otherwise would fly away, and hasten into the kashim with them. When the eclipse is half over, any shaman who may be present stretches out prone on the floor. Lying flat, he cries “oo-o-o” very loud at first and then with the sound softening until its stops. After this performance a shaman gives a vigorous kick and everyone knows that his spirit has gone to the moon through a hole in the sky to aid in bringing back the animals and fish which disappear from the earth when an eclipse occurs. This is, of course, a dangerous journey, for should shamans touch one another in the house of the moon, they will certainly die within two days after their return. The day after the eclipse has occurred all men gather in the kashim, each with a packsack full of food. A man tries to include a fish of each kind and also a piece of meat. When all are present, the man with the “moon song” leads them to the down-river end of the village. From there they set out in a body to go sunwise in a circle well outside of the village. This means that at “Anvik-mouth” the people start out through the woods and return on the river ice, if in the winter. Besides food, the men carry all of their weapons. After encircling the village, the men return to the kashim with their food packs and empty the contents onto the floor. Two fellows will cut the fish and meat into small pieces and pass them around for each person to eat. This performance is carried out at any eclipse of the moon or the sun, as any Ingalik knows, in order

66

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

to lead back the animals and fish which may have been drawn up into the sky on such unfortunate occasions. Feast of the first salmon. Nothing is more important in the economy of the Ingalik than the coming of the salmon in the summer. Food may be in short supply, but even if not, everybody becomes excited over the prospects of the salmon run. King salmon are the first to come up the river. They are a fine fat fish but are not as important as dog salmon which appear in far greater numbers and supply the main sustenance for the year. When the dog salmon are expected, the young men visit the traps regularly to look for them. The boy who catches the first one, or maybe two or three which come into the trap together, brings the fish immediately to the village. He calls to the men to make a fire in the kashim and everyone gathers around to examine the fish. If the tips of the pectoral fins are white, the people say, “Good, lots of salmon are coming.” The fish that have been trapped are taken into the kashim to be broiled beside the “loved-fire” on special sticks made for the purpose. While the fish are cooking, all the men enjoy a sweat bath. Then everyone is given a little piece of the broiled fish to eat. Before they have finished, the old men tell the young fellows each to take a little bit of their salmon and carry it down to the river, there to throw it into the current with the command “Swim with my sleep.” It is easy to see that if the salmon swims off with one’s sleep, it will naturally be possible to work day and night through the fishing season. The feast for the salmon people (the Ingalik do not suffer from anthropocentrism) has the natural advantage of attracting these fish since cooking them in the kashim, in place of doing it in the summer house, is the equivalent of giving a salmon man a sweat bath. The wolverine feast. A wolverine is a very important animal because, like a wolf, he can kill a man and may do so. Therefore, a wolverine deserves respect and special treatment if he happens to be caught. This sometimes happens if a man sees the tracks of a wolverine and makes a number of deadfalls to kill it. To construct the necessary toppling trigger deadfalls requires a great deal of work for a man, but it may be worth while as wolverines are dangerous to have around a village where they may break into the fish caches or destroy valuable property and food. When a man has killed a wolverine, he packs it home and hangs the unskinned body in some willows a little way behind the kashim. Someone discovers what is going on and the news spreads around the village. People come to look at the wolverine, and women return to their houses to prepare food. When it is dark and the fire in the kashim has died down, the man who did the killing goes outside and brings the wolverine into the kashim saying to some rela¬ tives or friends, “Fix that man,” referring, of course, to the wolverine but not using the name. The wolverine is then propped up on the floor on a mat in the corner opposite to the direction in which the sun rises, just as is done with the dead body of a human being. Some beads will be put around its neck.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

67

When the wolverine has thus been properly placed, a boy is sent out to tell all the people that the preparation has been finished. He does this by climbing up on the roofs of the houses and announcing the fact through the smoke holes. All the people come to the door of the kashim with the food which they have prepared. They wait there while the first woman, who is a relative of the man who killed the wolverine, enters. She crawls through the door and places a small dish of “ice cream” and fish in front of the wolverine, after which she sits down on the floor. The other people, both men and women, bring in their food and place it before the distinguished guest as the first woman had done. Then they too sit on the floor around the wolverine. When everyone is settled, someone asks an old man, ‘ Why don’t you sing the song?” Of course, he says that he does not know the song, but more than likely he then sends a boy to bring a pair of clapper sticks. These are the size of a section of broom¬ stick about two feet long. When the man has received them, he stands in front of the wolverine, hitting the clapper sticks together while he sings. At the same time a group of about twenty men stand up behind him, jumping in unison. Two songs are sung and then no more. Then the food which has been brought in and placed in front of the wolverine is passed around among the people present. After they have eaten, the wolverine is skinned in the kashim by the man who killed it. Although the killing of a wolverine brings prestige to the one who accomplished it, there is also a necessity for observing a twenty-day period of taboos in order to be purified after the killing. During this period, the man may do no work and he can eat neither fresh food nor boiled. He must sit in the corner when in the kashim or in his house. He must wear old clothes and, when he goes outside, be certain to have the hood of his parka covering his head. Truly, a wolverine is a powerful animal. The wolf ceremony. If there is any animal that has more power than the wolverine it is probably the wolf. Consequently, when the wolf is killed, a feast is held to honor him, much like that for the wolverine. The following story serves to describe such an event and offers opportunities for comparisons. A man hunting caribou one day finds the hoofprints of that animal and follows them. He has not gone far, however, before he also sees from their tracks that wolves are beating him to the prey. Watching with sharp eyes as he continues, he discovers that there are ten wolves in the pack. He follows them a while and sees that they have spread out. “They got him already,” he thinks. “Well, I’ll go and see.” It is easy to follow the trail to the dead caribou. It is lying by itself, for wolves go away after killing, the Indians say, to howl and to let the meat cool. The hunter quickly builds a little cache platform made of three poles with the cross pieces at head height. He hides his snowshoes under the snow and climbs up above the dead caribou, taking with him a heavy club of green spruce about three feet long. The wolves come back and see someone on the platform and run all around it. As they come close, the man shoots at them with his bow and arrow.

68

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Frenzied by their inability to reach the dead caribou, they jump toward the Indian on his platform. This is a mistake, for it is easy to smash the skull of a wolf with a heavy club when one is in such an advantageous position. When the wolves are disposed of, the man jumps down and skins the caribou and goes home, perhaps carrying one of the wolves. When he arrives with the exciting news, some of the people return with him to the place of the kill in order to bring back what remains of the caribou and the rest of the wolves. One wolf is hung on the willows behind the kashim, as was done with the dead wolverine, to show the people. The others are placed on top of the snow near by. After the fire is out in the kashim, everyone gathers there, but on this occasion they do not bring food as was done at the wolverine feast. Someone asks, “Who wants to skin them?” In response to this question, the friends of the man who has killed the wolves go outside with him and bring the animals into the kashim. There the skins are removed after which all the carcasses are taken outside and put on a sled. The man who killed the wolves, with some friend to help him, pulls the sled up some little creek where there is no one around. There they cut apart each joint of the dead animals and throw the bodies away piece by piece. This must be done or a man will have sores and pain in his legs. When the wolf killer comes home, he, like the man who has captured a wolverine, must observe purification taboos for twenty days. The procedure is the same except that during the first night the wolf killer must sleep sitting up, shifting his weight from one buttock to the other. An old man will tell him, “When you sleep you will dream about that wolf and he will growl, so take your bow and arrow and hold it as though ready to shoot as you sit there. When the wolf growls you will wake up, then twang the bow string once or twice by hitting it with the arrow and then put it back in the position to shoot.” One can see that the hunter may have a difficult night even though he is braced in the corner with a parka over his knees on which to rest his head. The procedure described takes place in the same way when a man kills a single wolf in a commonplace manner. The Eskimo bear ceremony. The Ingalik do not celebrate the killing of a bear with a special ceremony, but they know of this rite being performed among the neighbor¬ ing Paimute Eskimo. The exceptional interest on the part of anthropologists in the diffusion of this custom is the warrant for repeating the Ingalik description of it in this place. Indians visiting the Eskimo village of Paimute for the celebration of a partner’s potlatch report having seen a ceremony unlike anything known among their Athapaskan relatives. When the people entered the kashim and everyone was quiet, an Eskimo went to the center of the room and removed a caribou blanket under which was a bear with a man and some stuffing inside to give it a lifelike appearance. Another Eskimo picked up some strings fastened to the forelegs and head of the bear so that he would appear to be manipulating it as one might do with a puppet. The bear thus stood up on its hind feet with its front paws hanging down. Then a man came into the kashim dressed in a woman’s clothes and wearing a female

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

69

mask. Phis person walked up in front of the bear. The bear growled and blew out of his mouth and turned his head as a real bear will do. Then the man-woman lifted her parka above some false breasts made of stuffed fish skins. The bear then pre¬ tended to lick the breasts for some time, making loud drinking noises in the process. When this act was completed, the performers took off their costumes and put them in the corner while the potlatch proceeded as usual. “Putting down” for first game. At the time when a boy kills his first bird or animal that is important as food, it is customary for his family to make some recognition of this fact. Whatever the boy has killed is cooked by his mother and she brings it into the kashim along with several plates of fish and “ice cream,” or any other kind of food that she may have available. When the food has been brought in, the father of the boy rises and announces that his son has killed the animal or bird that has been cooked, afterward presenting it to some old man who is known for having a valuable “animal-song.” The old man, by eating, brings luck to the boy. As he eats, the rest of the food is passed around to be enjoyed by all the men present. Such a celebration is made only once for each boy and not at all for a girl. “Putting down” for a second name. After a boy reaches the age of twelve and before he is seventeen, in a family of any importance, gifts are put down at a partner’s potlatch in the process of making a public announcement of a choice for his second name. This will usually be done at some favorable opportunity when a potlatch is being given for another reason. If a father is very rich, however, he may give a potlatch for this specific occasion and it is even not impossible that it may be done for a daughter if she is an only child. Most sons, however, receive their second names at home without ceremony. When parents decide to name a son at a potlatch, they talk over the names they would like him to have, generally settling upon that of either his mother’s father or his father’s father. Then at the potlatch, after the boy’s parents have held up something for the dead, the father brings in gifts which he piles up on the floor. After doing so, he calls to his son sitting in the kashim, and the boy comes and stands in front of his father who is sitting near the gifts. The father then asks the boy’s grandfather to give his name to his grandson. Grandfather does not answer imme¬ diately. Then he breaks the silence by calling to one of his old friends. “Cousin, call him my name,” speaking in reference to his grandson. “All right,” says his friend and he speaks out the name, perhaps stepping toward the middle of the floor to do so. When a boy’s grandfathers are dead, the father himself will ask some old man present to speak out the name of the dead grandparent. If a man has more than two sons, he may find difficulty in choosing a name that is not in use. Of course, there are many names that people know but, nevertheless, there may be jealousy aroused over a selection. This can occur, for example, when a man plans to take the name of some deceased individual for his son and then discovers someone else “putting down” for it first. “Putting down” for labrets. The wearing of labrets, or lip plugs, is a mark of

70

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

distinction which comes only after gifts have been “put down” in the kashim at a partner’s potlatch as public recognition of that privilege. A father decides whether he will do so for his son, or for all of them, if he has several. Although the procedure is not considered to be extravagant, the parents may decide that only one son should be so honored. That son may not be the eldest, but rather the one who is liked best by his parents. Furthermore, whether a boy accepts the privilege of having iabrets, or not, depends primarily upon himself. Although labrets are ornaments and obviously a mark of prestige, some boys will not submit to the painful process of having the holes made. Once both parents and son are agreed, however, the ceremonial procedure can begin. On the last night of a partner’s potlatch the father will go to his cache with his sled and load it up with caribou skins and other valuable things. If he is a rich man, these may include wolverine and walrus skins as well. Then a quantity of fish is added to the load, and the entire contents of the sled brought into the kashim and piled either in the middle of the floor or near the owner’s seat. When everything is thus ready, the young man to be honored is called. Then his father asks an old hunter, possibly the boy’s grandfather, to take some charcoal and mark the places on both sides of the boy’s lower jaw where the holes are to be made for the labrets. The boy, generally about nineteen or twenty years of age, sits down with his head back as this is done. The privilege of marking the spots for the labrets is considered an honor. The holes may be cut through the skin im¬ mediately, or this part of the performance may be held over to the following day. In either case, after the marking the gifts are passed around by the father with the help of his relatives. As is usual, old people always receive the most and the best, and the young are likely to get only fish. Also, visitors at the potlatch receive more than people from the village of the donor. The “putting down” for labrets is always done on the last evening of the part¬ ner’s potlatch. If the holes are not cut at the same time as the markings, this opera¬ tion must take place on the following day. Between the times of marking and cutting, no decision is left to the boy and should he resist the operation, he will be held down if necessary. The cutting of the holes takes place in the kashim, and is done either by the old man who did the marking or someone more adept in using the labret awl who has a special “song” for such surgery. Only women of menstrual age are excluded from watching the performance. The boy sits on the kashim floor with his legs out. Three men hold his head while the surgeon removes the awl from the piece of skin in which it is wrapped. Then he draws the boy’s lips away from his teeth and punches the awl through the flesh by rocking it back and forth with its point in the general direction of the top of the patient’s head. Blood runs all over during the process, and a boy may cry out for the drilling to stop. There will be no escape, however, until the two holes have been made. After the holes are cut, labret plugs are put in to keep them from closing up. The boy’s chin is then wrapped with a piece of tanned skin, and he goes to stay in the

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

71

corner underneath the bench in the kashim because when his face swells up he is afraid others will laugh at him. To recover may take as long as three weeks during which period he eats no hot food. Sometimes he suffers so much that he removes the plugs surreptitiously. If his father, who comes to see how the wounds are healing, finds that the holes are consequently closing, he will force his son to have them cut open again. In those cases when the cutting of labret holes takes place after the potlatch is over, the father gives a little “ice cream” or a piece of fish to everyone in the kashim when the ceremony is finished. “Putting down” for a girl’s puberty. A rich man may wish to have a public ac¬ knowledgment of the fact that his daughter has finished her period of social isola¬ tion following her first menstruation. In order to do so, his wife brings food into the kashim for all the people. The man himself may distribute animal skins or other valued objects. Such “putting down” may be done at any time except during one of the great ceremonies. The men customarily take part of the food home to share with their wives. “Putting down” for a girl’s marriage. A very rich man who has an only daughter may “put down” something at a partner’s potlatch following her marriage. The best time for this is about a month after the boy and girl go through the ceremony of eating out of a common dish. The father, presenting his gifts, will state in simple terms only that his daughter is married. “Putting down” for the privilege of dancing. To gain the privilege of dancing at a partner’s potlatch or mask ceremony, some man must “put down” presents for the individual, usually when he or she is about thirteen years of age but some¬ times when much younger. This may take place either during an interlude in a partner’s potlatch or at a mask dance. Fathers, grandfathers, or uncles may do it for the child. A rich man may do it for a poor man’s son or daughter. Although a single bundle of dry fish is considered sufficient for the purpose, ordinarily more is offered to avoid the possibility of being laughed at. A very good showing is made when someone brings into the kashim for this purpose three bundles of dog salmon, five of white fish, three plates of “icecream,” and perhaps even some caribou skins. Generally, however, not so much food is given away. In a similar fashion, the privilege of dancing in front of the hosts’ village on the occasion of a partner’s potlatch is acquired. The parent who does the “putting down” does not necessarily have this privilege himself. When the food and gifts have been “put down,” some man who does have this privilege will get up and do the dance in front of him. For such demonstrations there are additional movements and a song which are left out when the dance is not performed inside the kashim. “Putting down” for first use, preparation, or manufacture. During the intervals between the dancing at the mask dance, men bring in some food and perhaps a few gifts to honor their small children for early attainments. This may be done, for example, at the time a boy learns to shoot his first arrow, or when he makes his first fish trap. In the latter case the actual trap may be carried into the kashim and held up for viewing. A little girl may be similarly honored by having the first

72

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

berries that she picks passed around in a birch bark basket. Similarly, when a girl learns to cook salmon, pieces of her handiwork may be distributed for the delecta¬ tion of the mask dance guests. The only notable limitation is that a man may “put down” food and gifts in honor of only one event at one time. “Putting down” of “ice cream.” During April or May each young married woman chooses an evening for “putting down” a big bowl of “ice cream” and some dry fish for the occupants of the kashim. This contribution, which is called “canoe village ice cream,” brings a measure of recognition and prestige to the donor. Old women do not continue to participate because making “ice cream” requires too much work. Neither are young married women living in the same house apt to “put down” on successive days, as they prefer to give a woman in another house the opportunity. Since the women in one house do not tell the women of another of their intentions, “ice cream” from two or more houses may be “put down” on the same day. The proper procedure requires that a young woman bring her bowl of “ice cream” and her dry fish into the kashim, placing them in front of her husband. Then she sits down beside the food with her head modestly bent over, for she is the center of attraction. Her husband picks up the “ice cream” dish and, starting with the old men in the corner to the left as one faces the door and moving sunwise around the kashim, he proceeds to pass out the “ice cream.” He does this by scooping the “ice cream” up in his right hand from the bowl which he holds on his left arm. He gives each man, except “close relatives” of his wife, one handful unless he sees that he will not have enough for the old men on the second side bench. In that predicament, he passes by the young unmarried men at the rear of the kashim. Even with this saving, he may have too little “ice cream,” so he simply states that he is sorry, and the unserved married men say, “That’s all right.” No married man is served out of turn, however, and the passer does not serve himself. The husband finally gives the bowl to his wife and she takes it home to the old women of her house who, given some fish as well, are content “to lick the platter clean.” The husband then proceeds to give one dry fish (if a whitefish) to each married man in the same order, cutting those remaining in half, if there are any, and dis¬ tributing them to the unmarried boys. Throughout the ceremony no one says thank you. The recipients do not eat the “ice cream” or dry fish when served but put the former on the latter and send the gift to their homes in the hands of small boys. The children are said to deliver the portions entire as they are too small for any nibbling not to be noticed. A wife, on receiving this token, may give the messenger a bite of the fish if she wishes, or even a dab of the “ice cream.” The food is finally eaten by the woman and her husband after the latter comes home from the kashim. It should be observed that such donations of “ice cream” are always enjoyed as a dessert which follows the regular meal.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

73

When the husband of the young woman who has “put down” the food returns to his home, he shares with his wife a generous portion of the “ice cream” which she has reserved. The Great Ceremonies: The Partner’s Potlatch Introduction. One of the elaborate ceremonies given by the Ingalik is the part¬ ner s potlatch. Although givers of the potlatch are aware of the prestige that it brings to them and which is its primary function, they also regard it as a social affair and as an occasion for fun. Even more, as we have seen, the partner’s pot¬ latch is regularly used to “hold up” things for the dead, a procedure which may be regarded as the final cause of the ceremony. A partner’s potlatch may take place at any time throughout the year, and likewise there is no restriction except the inevitable economic one to limit the number of potlatches which may take place. Potlatches being of a reciprocal nature are perhaps most frequently given for the nearest village of equivalent size. The people of “Anvik-mouth,” for example, most often have this potlatch with the Indians of Shageluk. It is not unusual, however, for either of the above-mentioned villages to invite those of Hologochakat, a village of the Kaiyukhotana subdivision of the Koyukon Athapaskans. Sometimes the Ingalik exchange potlatch visits with even more distant Athapas¬ kans, such as those living at Nulato belonging to the Koyukukhotana subdivision of the Koyukon. Likewise, a potlatch may be given for the people of Holy Cross downriver, but this is as rare as doing so with the Koyukon upriver. Some people may even attend potlatches on the Kuskokwim River or one of the great celebra¬ tions of the Eskimo as far away as St. Michael. Preliminary activities. Before a potlatch is given, there is usually talk about the desirability of having such an affair. A group of men who have accumulated sufficient goods for gifts discuss the matter one evening in the kashim and decide on a village with which to potlatch. Thus the men of “Anvik-mouth” will ask the people of Shageluk. It should be made clear that only a specific number of indi¬ viduals in one village are going to ask an equivalent number from the guest village. Nonetheless, almost all the people of both villages will be involved to a greater or lesser extent as will be shown in the following description. After Shageluk is chosen as the guest village, two “Anvik-mouth” men are selected as messengers. The messenger plays an important role in the ceremony, and considerable intelligence and theatrical ability are desirable. When two such men are asked, if they accept, the preparations proceed. The next step involves the division of the participants of the host village into two groups, one of which we shall call the “askers” and the other the “chorus.” Each of these groups occupies one end of the kashim, but it does not matter which. The beluga drumheads are brought into the kashim and united with the frames, while the ceremonial batons are prepared for the leaders of the two divisions. One of the batons is decorated to symbolize the caribou, and the other, the wolf. They

74

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

are about one inch square and two feet long, and the caribou baton has accessory decorations made of ptarmigan feathers and bands of red paint (Fig. 4, bottom). The wolf’s baton may have a tail of that animal tied lengthwise on it. In the evening when the drummers have their drums ready, the “askers,” under the leadership of the man with the caribou baton, begin a song, but without drums yet beating. In the song, the name of a man in the village to be invited is mentioned, as well as the gift that he is asked to bring to the potlatch. Whatever it is, a mes¬ senger must remember. To help him, he may put to one side a small stick like a match about one and a half inches long. Immediately following the “asking” song, some man sings a potlatch song. He may be anyone. There is still no drumming and the people remain quiet while he sings. When he has finished, he repeats the song a second time. When the potlatch song has been sung twice, the leaders of both “askers” and “chorus” make two vertical passes with their ceremonial batons held in their right hands, first to one side of the body and then to the other. At this point the drums are hit three times, not fast, and everyone joins in singing the potlatch song previously presented. The drummers, standing and facing the door, keep time with their drums. When the group singing of the song has been completed, the two leaders make two more passes with their ceremonial batons on each side of the body. These movements of the baton are like chopping with an ax in slow motion. While they do this the leaders yell, which is the signal of the end. Then the group singing of the potlatch song is repeated again so that the whole group sings twice, as did the man who sang solo, thus making a total of four times that the potlatch song is sung. This ends this unit of the potlatch which is repeated in its entirety and until all the individuals who wish to ask for things of people in the village to be invited have had their opportunity. It should be pointed out, however, that these gifts are asked only of the active men and not of the old ones nor the very young. Inviting the guests. With the introductory session finished, the messengers gather up their memory sticks and set off to invite the people of Shageluk to the potlatch. When they arrive there, they go to the kashim and offer a pair of invitation sticks to the leading men. These are two small pieces of wood about two and a half inches in length and less than a quarter of an inch in diameter. To the middle of each stick

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

75

a piece of babiche or sinew line about four inches long is tied. The messengers expect that the people of Shageluk may do considerable talking before accepting the invitation, although it is rarely refused. The messengers sit down while this is going on and talk to each other. There is always the possibility that some rich and important man in the village may be harboring a grudge and therefore may persuade his associates not to ac¬ cept. Should that occur, there are apt to be hard feelings for a few days between those in the invited village who wish to attend the potlatch and those who did not. All would feel ashamed for the village as a whole, however, and of course the people who sent the invitation would not be pleased. The latter village would ask some other instead. If, as is usual, the difficulties are settled and the leaders decide to accept the invitation, someone indicates this fact to the messengers and they offer the sticks for the second time. The pair of sticks with their little attached lines are taken by the Shageluk people and each is fastened to a peg four and a half inches long (Fig. 4, upper left). The latter are then tucked in above the “head rest” in the center of the rear of the kashim. Some presents are brought in and presented to the mes¬ sengers as a token for their trouble. The messengers proceed to inform the people of the objects which have been asked for. It is customary that the opening request is always for an untanned bear skin for the kashim door and a new bear gut cover for the smoke hole. Following this, the messengers proceed to tell various indi¬ viduals what has been asked of them specifically, the messengers putting aside a memory stick as each person is told. When the messengers have finished with their requests, the people of Shageluk then tell the messengers what they want from their hosts, each individual desig¬ nating something that he wants from his “parka partner.” Therefore, this “asking” is unlike the other in that it involves specific individuals of either sex, but only those with whom potlatching relationships have been established. Such partners may be acquired by mutual agreement or by taking the partner of a deceased mother or father after a parent’s death. After a partner tells the messenger what he wants, it is customary to insist that the object must be of good quality or else it will not be accepted. For example, a man may say, “I want a fine pair of snowshoes. They must be light and without any knots in the wood.” When such requests are repeated by the messenger in his own village, they sound very funny. The messengers may have to wait a few days in order to deliver the “asking” requests of the host village to all the men, some of whom may be out hunting. Then one of the messengers conveying the requests of “parka partners” leaves for “Anvik-mouth.” He will probably make some mistakes in repeating them, but nobody seems to care. As soon as the returning messenger arrives, he is asked on what day the visitors are coming. After he answers, the next question is “Did they ask for something?” “Yes, your partner wants some black fish and if they are not fresh he will not

76

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

take them.” Everybody laughs as this process continues, and the various partners of the people who have sent requests proceed to get together the things that are wanted so that they will be ready when the visitors arrive. The arrival of the guests. On the predetermined day, the people of the invited village set off for “Anvik-mouth.” They travel slowly, for their sleds are full in winter, as are their canoes if the journey takes place in summer. The second mes¬ senger goes with them, and on the last night they camp before reaching their desti¬ nation. He continues on alone without sleep so as to bring an accurate announce¬ ment of the time when the visitors will arrive. As the visitors come up the trail to the village, one of the men may step out in front as it is his privilege to perform a little dance at the meeting of the two com¬ munities. He bends his knees, maybe walking forward a little with his hands out¬ stretched sidewise, first one arm going up while the other goes down, then the other goes up, and so on with the palms of his hands toward the village. While dancing in this fashion he continuously shouts “aw-aw-aw.” Sometimes a second man who at some past potlatch has had something “put down” for the privilege offers a similar dance. The rest of the people just stand and listen for the period of about ten minutes which such a performance lasts. While this is going on, the visitors remain in front of the village as the hosts come out to face them on the bank. If the potlatch takes place in the summer and the people arrive in their canoes, they line them up along the shore in front of the bank where the hosts have come to greet them. The latter may throw the visitors a babiche king salmon net3 in order to hold their canoes together, while the hosts do one mask ceremony song with their masks on, dancing and beating the drums. Then the visitors may re¬ ciprocate, still in their canoes, using masks that they have brought with them for the purpose. A favorite song from the mask ceremony is chosen. It should be pointed out, however, that this performance with masks is done only for amuse¬ ment on an exceptional occasion, for it, as with the previously mentioned dances by individuals, has no intrinsic part in the potlatch ceremony itself. When the dances of greeting have been completed, the visitors go into the kashim and are given the preferential places on the benches, while the men and women who are hosts crowd onto the edges of the floor. At this time in the procedure there may be a dance performed by a man with a little drum only about eight inches in diameter. This dance, which is a privilege acquired only by inheritance and generally by a son from his father, takes place as a memorial to the dead. If the dance occurs, the man with the little drum takes off his clothing at one side of the kashim and puts on a special pair of slippers with little bunches of caribou hairs whipstitched on the edges about three inches apart. Except for these slippers, the drummer wears only a string of beads over his right shoulder and under his left arm, and a fillet of wolf skin around his forehead with a long hawk or swan feather tucked in on each side. Thus, almost nude, he walks to the center of the fire hole cover which is the only open space remaining in the 3 Under “beaver net” in Ingalik Material Culture, 216.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

77

room. There he holds his drum and both hands in the air and sings one song. When he has finished singing, he starts to beat the drum bringing it slowly lower and lower as he stretches it out in front of him. All the people join him in singing while he is doing this. He raises and lowers his drum in this fashion three times after which he starts to beat the drum in all manner of positions, over his head and between his legs, as though in a frenzy until the song is over. Actually the man with the little drum sings four songs in all and others may be sung by the audience in the inter¬ vals between them, the whole performance lasting about half an hour. When the man with the little drum has finished, some other man in the host village takes a pair of clapper sticks and sings a song in honor of the dead, beating the sticks together periodically to keep time. This song is sung twice, everyone joining in who wishes to do so. Then the visitors are given the clapper sticks, and they sing their chosen song for the dead. The visitors lead the singing twice and everyone joins in, perhaps beginning to dance as well. Then the leader puts the sticks on the floor and goes back to the bench. Everyone sits down and begins to moan until there is a veritable dirge for those who have died. The unit of prelimin¬ ary singing and dancing which takes place upon the arrival of the visitors at the host village is thus completed. It should be remembered that any or all of these performances may be omitted from a potlatch. The potlatch ceremony. The main part of the potlatch begins as it grows dark in the evening and after the completion of any preliminaries. The hosts bring food into the kashim and give it to their “feeding partners.” This food is generally cooked fish, and after it is eaten the plates are removed. Then some dry fish is brought in and distributed as a gift. Every adult has a least one such “feeding partner” generally inherited from a parent, and some have one in each of two villages, others, one in each of three. Most partnerships occur between individuals in the closest villages which most often potlatch with one another. The sex of partners is not of fundamental impor¬ tance, but generally partners are of the same sex. Sometimes two friends may establish a “feeding partner” relationship of their own volition. The excitement grows when one of the “parka partners” living at “Anvik-mouth,” who are acting as hosts and of whom things have been asked by their visiting “partners,” goes out of the kashim and returns with a caribou skin which he puts in front of his “partner” and asks him to sit on it. After the “parka partner” from Shageluk has made himself comfortable on the skin, a dish of “ice cream” is brought in as well as the gift he has asked for. One at a time this is done by each of the “Anvik-mouth” “parka partners” for his particular partner from Shageluk. When all of the visiting “parka partners” have received their gifts, which almost over¬ whelm the kashim, they are taken out for temporary storage in the respective houses of the partners. The visitors are then taken to the houses of their “feeding partners” and given supper. After supper the men return to the kashim. Two poles are erected about three feet apart and three feet high at a distance of about four feet inside the inner door

78

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

of the kashim. The men making this entrance screen fasten cross poles between the two uprights and hang a rabbit skin robe over this framework or, if nothing better is at hand, an old parka may be used. This screen enables an individual entering the kashim to make a dramatic appearance by suddenly arising from behind it. Boys are sent out to call in the women, and when everyone has arrived the next act of the ceremony begins. After a few songs have been sung, all of the visitors leave the kashim. One of them yells from the entryway that the people want a messenger. The messenger goes out. They return his invitation sticks to him and tell him to inform their hosts that they are not going to pay them back for this potlatch. This is a typical example of Athapaskan antithesis. The messenger goes inside and repeats the mes¬ sage to the hosts holding the invitation sticks in the air. Then he gives them to some prominent person, a good singer and maybe a little rich, after which the messenger goes outside again. One of the visiting “parka partners” gives the messenger a piece of rawhide or perhaps a dry fish with instructions to deliver it to the visitor’s “parka partner.” The messenger takes this object inside, standing behind the three-foot screen in front of the door, and holds it up saying, “This is for ‘Holds-the-bow’ from his partner to pay him back for his fine snowshoes. He need not expect anything more.” Then the messenger hands the simple piece of babiche or dry fish to the nearest person who will pass it on to its intended owner. Everyone enjoys this mock giving, of course, while the messenger acts on behalf of each of the visiting “parka partners” in turn. When all have made their contribution, the messenger says, at last, “That’s all,” and sits down. Then the visitors outside the kashim make the cries of the raven which is the signal that they have finished. After crying as a raven would a few times, they may sing a few songs, perhaps repeating them and again making the cries of the raven when they have finished. Then they come into the kashim and everyone sings and dances rather informally. Toward the end of the evening, the members of the host village repeat the “asking” songs which they sang on the day when the messengers were first sent off to the guest village. This procedure has the advantage of reminding everyone of what was asked for. As part of the amusement, when a man is mentioned as a potential giver, he may jump up and start to dance. At last the women go out and then in a little while the “feeding partners” are taken home and given another meal after which they return to the kashim and go to sleep. Thus ends the first night of the partner’s potlatch. The second night. During the day following, the people sit around and enjoy themselves eating and talking. Should a man not have a “feeding partner,” some¬ one will give him food anyway. Toward evening some man of the host village announces that he is going to put up something for the dead. Then, standing in the middle of the kashim he may “hold up” a necklace stating, “These are my daughter’s beads.” After this he takes them outside and hangs them on a post put up beside the entryway. One by one, other individuals who wish to “hold up”

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

79

something for the dead proceed in the same manner. All sorts of things are thus displayed which belong to a deceased person. When the “holding up” has been completed, the same individuals in the same order come into the kashim followed by boys carrying caribou skins, dry fish, “ice cream,” or any other type of gift which they wish to present in honor of the indi¬ vidual whose article they have just previously “held up.” These original objects shown may also be included among the gifts although many people prefer to retain them for display over and over again. The man who has “held up” for the dead then distributes his gifts among all of the visitors but to none of the people of his own village. It is following this distribution that various people take the oppor¬ tunity of “putting down” for various privileges such as the taking of a second name or the marking of labrets. The ceremony continues with the visiting “parka partners” going out and, with each other’s help, bringing various presents. This is done in the same way as the people brought in the gifts to honor the dead. These gifts are given to “parka part¬ ners” in the host village and represent a measure of compensation for the snowshoes and other presents which they themselves had asked for through the messengers who came with the invitation sticks. After these gifts have been made, their donors carry them out again and convey them directly to the homes of their new owners. As an important interlude in this sequence of individual gift giving, some of the visitors climb up on the roof of the kashim and put a new bear gut smoke hole cover in place, after which they come down and deliver a new bear skin for the door. These things, as has been mentioned, are traditional gifts to the village as a whole. The visitors continue their ceremonial giving by conveying to the kashim the presents asked for by their hosts in the “asking” songs. This material is put on the floor of the kashim in one pile. Someone in the host village hands the visitors one or two drums, and some of the latter start to dance and to sing their potlatch song. When they have finished, they give the drums back. Then two visiting men pass the gifts which have been piled on the kashim floor to everyone in the host village. At last the members of the host village go out carrying their presents with them while the visitors sit down and sing whatever song may come to their minds. Before long, the individuals of the host village return with more presents, putting them over the screen and ultimately making a big pile. When everything has been brought in and shown, then the hosts distribute these gifts among all the visitors. This time the visitors take their presents and go out while the hosts take the places which have been vacated on the benches and start to sing. Soon the visitors return once more with presents which are held up in front of the screen and then dropped to form a great pile as in the preceding case. Their total accumulation is finally distributed by the visitors to all the members of the host village. By this time everyone is exhausted and goes to bed. The following day everyone rests as there is some need for recuperation from the days of ceremony. The people may sing a little, but there is no formal activity.

80

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Fig. 5. Mask and Maskettes of Mask Dance

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

81

Then, after sleeping once again, the visitors return home to their own village bear¬ ing their gifts with them. The Great Ceremonies: The Mask Dance

Introduction. Another of the more important and popular ceremonies is called the mask dance. Its first and serious purpose lies in the belief that the performance will increase the quantity of economically important animals which are singled out and indicated in the dances. Second, a mask dance has the well-recognized function of being a social amusement which the people thoroughly enjoy. Third, the mask dance is a feast also utilized for “putting down” gifts in order to obtain privilege and prestige. Although one or more mask dances may be given in a single village during the course of a year, generally the preferred time is in the spring when the days begin to grow long. As with the partner’s potlatch, it is generally the nearest village of equivalent size to which messengers are sent with the invitation to come to the dance. It should be pointed out that it is the men of a visiting village who are more apt to come, for most of the women stay at home rather than face the difficulties of travel with their children. Preliminary activities. As is usual, a few men talk over the prospects for a dance and, wishing to give one, persuade a majority of people in the village to agree. When the favorable decision has been made, one or two weeks will be consumed in the preparations. New masks must be made and old ones refurbished. For new masks new songs may be composed, and there will be a great deal of practicing of old songs and the associated dances. Also, the drums will have to be prepared. Finally there is the necessity of accumulating and arranging the gifts which are to be made to the visitors as well as of accounting for the supply of food for everyone. To make masks men go into the woods to acquire suitable pieces of clear-grained green spruce which they then bring home and thaw. The next day it would seem that almost everyone is chopping and carving to create the necessary figures. No one should make a mask except of an animal about which he has dreamed during the interval since the previous mask dance. Some man may also make one or more “frames” of salmon so constructed that a clay lamp can be placed inside. These may be hung up from the ceiling in the corners of the kashim. On the other hand, one or more shamans may hang stuffed animals in the corners. If small masks for the messengers are not available, someone will carve them which is not a difficult task since these maskettes are generally no larger than six inches in diameter. When a man carves a mask related to an animal about which he has dreamed, it is usual for him to make up a song to accompany its use. Such songs, however, generally have no words, the melody being carried only by a repeated ya-ya. There are more old songs than new ones, and the people come together in groups of from ten to fifteen to practice the old and to learn the new. The dancing, which has a formal quality, is also rehearsed by individuals or small groups according to the demands of presentation. Then the drums must be taken down and checked to see that the frames are in satisfactory condition. More complicated is the prepa-

82

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

ration of the drumheads. These are made from the stomachs of the beluga (white whale). New ones may be necessary if someone discovers that the old drumheads have been cracked during storage. When satisfactory drumheads are at hand, the drummer wets one with water and lays it over the top of a frame, the inside of the stomach forming the inside of the drum. Then a group of men take hold of the edge of the drumhead all around and pull it down over the frame, stretching it as

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

83

Fig. 7. Frog Mask of Mask Dance.

tight as possible while one person ties it in place. All the drums must be so pre¬ pared and then tested. Inviting the guests. When preparations for the dance have been finished, each of the two men who have agreed to act as messengers takes one of the pair of maskettes and begins the ceremonial act preceding departure from the kashim (Fig. 5, lower left). Each stands at one side of the entrance door facing the other and holding a maskette against the forehead. Then in unison they make the wolf cry “sh-sh-shgri-hi-i-i,” the moan of the wild one which rises and falls in a continuing sound. When finished, they pass over to the opposite position. After this they set off on their journey to the village that is to be invited. On reaching the guest village they enter the kashim and repeat the performance of wolf howls facing each other inside the door. This finished, they sit on the bench where it stretches above the opening they have just entered. Some man will take their maskettes and hang the pair on the back wall of the kashim. Then the people of the kashim usually ask only one question. “What time shall we go?” “In two days,” the messengers answer. “We will leave tomorrow and you come the day afterward.” Then the messengers are brought food. After a night’s rest, the messengers are given a few token presents for their

Fig. 8. Mask Dance Masks

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

85

trouble and their maskettes are returned to them. Then they stand in front of the door and make the usual wolf cries as they leave for home. The messengers must plan their journey so as to arrive at their own village in the evening. They enter the kashim, make the wolf cry, cross over, and sit on the bench above the door. “What did the people say?” they are asked. “They will come,” is the answer. It is possible that one of the messengers has an additional comment and he re¬ ports that a certain old man in the guest village has sent a message to a man in that of the hosts’ as follows: “I was going to take a sweat bath and discovered that I had no bowls, therefore, I would like to have some new ones.” Everyone laughs and someone says, “What’s the matter? Isn’t there any wood over there, or doesn’t he know how to make them?” This is all a special kind of joke and to¬ ward the end of the performance the bowls will be given to the man who has made the request. That evening the people tell each other, “Come to the kashim after breakfast so we can dance.” This is to make certain that the time of final rehearsal will be remembered. The next morning a fire is made in the kashim to warm it. This is the only time during the period of the dance that there is a fire, and it is soon allowed to die out. Then the two messengers are sent out to call in all the people. On this occasion they wear a second pair of maskettes (Fig. 5, lower right) and make a wolf cry outside the door of each house so that everyone will know that the day of the mask dance has arrived and the dress rehearsal is called. No one answers the messengers or makes them gifts, but the people all gather in the kashim. While the people are coming together, a couple of men stretch a babiche line as tightly as possible from one side of the kashim to the other over the fire hole cover which is replaced as soon as the fire has served its purpose. To this line they fasten a large ornamented wood fish (Fig 6, bottom), bird, or animal in such a way that it can be drawn back and forth across the room. This is done by suspending the insignia (as such objects have been named in ethnographical literature) from the line by means of one or two spruce root rings or hooks from which cords lead to usually three points of attachment on the insignia. Then the middle of a line twice the length of the room is fastened to the head of the insignia. One half of this line enables one man to draw the insignia across the kashim in front of the rear bench, and the other half enables another man on the opposite side to turn it around and draw it back (since the line is fastened at the front end of the insignia, simple pulling reverses it and starts it on the return journey). The whole space under the rear bench of the kashim is reserved for the dancers and their masks. Rabbit skin and muskrat skin blankets, or perhaps a fish skin sled cover, have been used to screen the place under the bench. This has been done by first lashing little willow poles along one lengthwise edge of each blanket. One willow is put on each side of the skin and braided bark line is wound around them through small holes made at intervals in the blanket. Then this reinforced edging

86

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Fig. 9.

Mask Dance Masks

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

87

is laid on top of the bench and long willow poles are lashed down on top of the blanket between this edging and the front of the bench. These blankets make an effective cover for the dressing room at the back of which all the masks are lined up in the order of their intended use. The first masks of the ceremony are at the left as one faces the rear of the kashim and the last, which are also the best, are at the extreme right. As the rehearsal begins, the performers enter the dressing room under the bench from the corners. They select their masks and put them on. In the ordinary case this is done by tying the untanned salmon skin lines of the masks behind the head and holding the lower part of the mask away from the face with a stick which is held in the mouth. The lower part of the mask rests against this stick and is thus kept in the proper position. Then when the proper moment occurs, and this the performers can tell by the singing, they push the curtains aside and make their appearance. When a dance is over, the masks used in it are hung at the sides of the rear of the kashim on pegs put in above the “head rest.” Dancers who have just performed do not return to their former positions in the dressing room under the bench except for certain comic dancers who provide particularly humorous interludes. When the rehearsal has been completed there may be an adjustment in the order of the dances. The most favored will be reserved for the last. Then the women go home and everyone is pleased to have a last opportunity to perform chores be¬ fore the visitors arrive. The reception of the guests. Sometime during the afternoon the guests are seen approaching by boys who run to the kashim and, stepping down into the entryway, stamp on the floor outside of the two entrance doors. This is the regular way to warn the people inside the kashim that the guests are arriving. Immediately all the occupants go out and walk down the trail toward the visitors. The two mes¬ sengers, wearing the second set of maskettes (Fig. 5, lower right), which were used to call the people in the houses to come to the kashim, run ahead of the crowd, crossing and recrossing the trail and giving their wolf cry as they do so. When the visitors enter the village, the messengers jump over each of their sleds and then precede the visitors to the kashim. The messengers enter and take their places on the rear bench, intermittently continuing their wolf cry as long as the visitors are in the process of entering. Some food is given to the visitors as a refreshment after their journey. This is generally done by the “feeding partners” who, after the visitors have rested and talked a little while, take their partners home for an evening meal. Should a person not have a “feeding partner,” someone else will be sure to invite him. After dinner the messengers with their maskettes call all the people to return to the kashim. The dance. After the kashim is filled, the dancing begins. Three men with the “noise-makers” masks (Fig. 5, top) are usually first, but sometimes the “frog” masks (Fig. 7) may precede. The people, of course, recognize that both of these sets of masks are complementary to the maskettes that the messengers used on their journey of invitation (Fig. 5, lower left). The “noise-makers” are described as

88

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Fig.

10. Mask Dance Masks.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

89

something which comes from the lakes. These masks are always made by a shaman. The “frog” masks also represent lake animals about which someone has dreamed. These latter masks have two black projections on top which represent the legs of this leaping amphibian (Fig. 7). In doing the “frog” dance, the hands of the dancers are placed more in front than at the sides and move symbolically in imitation of the frog’s legs. While dancing, the performers also croak like a frog. As the burden of the song is repeated, so is the dance. When it is over, the performers hang their masks on poles at the sides of the kashim. During the first dance, the insignia which has been suspended in the air rocks up and down as it is pulled back and forth across the kashim. The animal, bird, or fish may be three or four feet long and carved from one piece of spruce with red or black paint and ptarmigan feathers for decoration (Fig. 6, bottom). The larger the insignia, the better, it is said. In the middle of it a cavity is hollowed out with open¬ ings at the side and top. Within burns a small clay lamp. It is just a light belong¬ ing to the animal represented. All beings, like humans, have one. There is also a dance which involves a burning lamp. It opens with two men com¬ ing out from under the bench to begin the performance. At a certain song, a third appears carrying a fish with a light inside, the whole enclosed in a frame that sug¬ gests a fish trap but is only decoration like the double or triple strips around some masks. This third man walks over the fire hole cover, turns around, gestures with his paraphernalia, and then puts it down in order to do his dance. The distinctive movement in Ingalik dancing is made by bending the knees in rhythm with the drums. The two or more dancers go up and down in unison like a single person. Toward the end there is a tendency for the drum beats to go faster. There is some twisting of the body, but it is slow and graceful. The hands stretch out and may gently pat the air, but always gently. This may be done twice at one side with one hand, the other being withdrawn, and then twice with the position of the hands reversed. As an alternative, both hands may be stretched to one side at an angle of about forty-five degrees from the front. There the hands make a gently patting movement before moving a quarter circle toward the other side where the gesture is repeated. There is none of the contortional wriggling which is seen in the Polynesian hula. There is, however, some suggestion of the same spirit of movement that is found in the Korean kisaeng dancers or the Japanese geisha. Some dances also emphasize imitative qualities more than do others. A performer giving the “crane” dance may capture the slow movement of the bird’s wings with almost incredible charm. One of the dances which may occur during the first part of the mask dance in¬ volves a wood doll. Three men perform it, all wearing masks representing females. Two performers come out from under the bench and place their masks face down on the corners of the fire hole cover. Then a third dancer takes the center position carrying not only a mask but a wood doll about a foot and a half long. Only the head and body are carved, the remainder of the length being made up of a piece of caribou skin. He puts the doll on the floor beside him; then he holds his mask face

90

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Fig. 11.

Mask Dance Masks.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

91

down and makes a low noise with his mouth. His companions pick up their masks and do the same thing. How long and how loudly they continue making the noise depends on the particular group of performers. When they have finished, the drummers begin to drum and sing the song which accompanies the dance, repeat¬ ing it as many times as they please. Finally they stop singing and begin just to drum. The maskers put on their masks, the middle one picking up the doll, and all three dance. When they have done, the masks are hung up on sticks as usual and the doll is put back under the bench in the corner. The doll represents the same mythological figure that appears in the doll ceremony, to be described later. Another typical dance is performed behind the fireplace by an unmasked woman between two masked males. The woman carries in each hand a light stick about four feet long, ornamented with feathers. At a certain point in the dance, the two males jump over the sticks and yell (gybfi) once after they have done so. The masks are consequently called “Jumping-men,” or literally, “Under-to-throwsticks,” and they represent people who also live inside of a mountain (Fig. 8, upper and lower left). As in all masks of human beings, the painting is only decorative, and the vertical color split is said not to symbolize anything. It is possible that the unusual mask, triangular in cross section (probably made from a split squared post), is a variant of the “Jumping-man” (Fig. 12, upper right). A very important dance mask which may appear at some point in the performance is the “One-eyed man” (Fig. 9, upper left). This mask can be made only when a man dreams about an animal coming out of the forehead of the “One-eyed man,” and only a shaman may make a “song” for it. The animal is usually a marten, distin¬ guishable by its red color (sometimes also gray) and longer teeth (the mask figured), or a mink which is black. The “One-eyed man” is said to live in a lucky place near the jumping mouse, and when he is dreamed of, and the mask made and used, it is said that there is sure to be plentiful game the following year. After a period in which a variety of dances has been given, there is a pause for rest. At this time an onlooker will go out of the kashim and bring in gifts, such as caribou skins, some bundles of fish, and a large plate of “ice cream.” Then he calls out his little boy and girl saying, “These are my children and they want to dance.” The children may then do a simple dance or, as often as not, be too frightened to perform before so many strange people. In such a case, their mother may dance for them. When the dance is finished, the gifts “put down” are moved to one side. Presents may also be “put down” in the intervals between dancing by someone in the host village to honor a child for the first thing that he or she has made or done or used. When the “putting down” for privilege or prestige is concluded, the main danc¬ ing performance continues. There are various bird dances, including masks such as the crane (Fig. 10, bottom) and the owl (Fig. 10, top). The “salmon” (Fig. 9, bottom), for example, may dance with two “ravens” (Fig. 11, bottom), or dance alone. The “raven,” indicated by its distinctive beak, may, on another occasion dance on either side of a “Half-man” (Fig. 9, upper right). The latter mask is carved when

92

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Fig. 12. Masks of Mask Dance and AnimaPs Ceremony.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

93

a man dreams about one of these people who has only half a body, uses crutches, and lives inside of a mountain, but not the same one previously mentioned. The dreamer, if not a skilled carver, may only make a drawing of the “Half-man” and turn it over to an expert for execution in spruce wood. The man wearing a “Halfman” mask makes a noise (xu’xu’, xu’xu’) when he dances, as is shown by his cir¬ cular mouth. The “Half-man” at another time may dance with the “Cry-baby” (Fig. 8, upper right), another mask representative of the people who live inside of a mountain. Although this mask always wears earrings and nose ornaments, it is nontheless a male, and the chin pendant represents a labret. Dancers using this mask may carry a mink, a marten, a rabbit, a ptarmigan, or sometimes a muskrat. The round mouth, as in the case of the “Half-man,” gives evidence that the “Cry-baby” is crying all the time, and the performer makes the noise (xu’xu’, xu’xu’) as he dances. This mask, as with others, can only be made when a man dreams of the people. Another group of masks are known as “Up-river people.” They generally have long faces, and often round mouths which mean that they also cry (Fig. 8, lower right). Shamans say that they live somewhere in the mountains. There may be two or three such masks dancing together, or they will dance with an “Old-man” (Fig. 12, lower right) or “Old-woman” mask (Fig. 12, upper left) in the middle. The more sculptured animal masks of large and projecting form such as the “caribou” (Fig. 6, top) are worn with the heads down. The wearer manages to see enough sideways to carry out his dance. The “fox” (Fig. 11, upper right) and the “por¬ cupine” (Fig. 11, upper left) are also of this class. One of the best formations is for three masked dancers to take positions at the middle and two corners of the rear of the kashim. Between these three, two women will stand. Women never wear masks on their faces but may carry finger masks (Fig. 13) or ceremonial dance rings. The five dancers facing the door carry out their performance in unison, the action of the women only distinguished by the fact that they are more careful in keeping their feet together. It may take two or three evenings of practice to learn such a formalized dance, although the time varies according to the complications of the movements and the natural abilities of the participants. Women may become jealous of the privilege of dancing with certain men and may give fish skin boots for it in a bargain made outside of the kashim. Actually in doing so they are buying moral support as the leader of the group, generally a man, is the one who the others in a certain sense follow. When the second series of dances, which have lasted for half an hour, is over, someone gets up and says, “There will be no more dancing.” The drums are hung up and the hosts put on their parkas and go outside. This joke does not fool anyone, however, and soon the people who have departed return bringing dry fish and “ice cream,” all of which food will not be eaten. The third quarter of dancing then continues what has gone before. Sometimes a shaman may bring one, two, or four stuffed animals with which to dance. These are put in order with the masks under the bench until used. When the shaman does

94

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Fig.

13. Mask Dance Finger Masks (Maskoids).

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

95

his dance, he wears no mask. His stuffed animal or bird, however, may have sticks for legs and lines with which the shaman may manipulate either wings or head. Such a dance is considered the most potent force to create an increase of animals be¬ cause the shaman’s “song” which he acquires through a dream is always strong. As the third series of mask dances progresses there is more noise. The drums beat louder and the people sing louder. When only one dance remains to be performed, someone again cries, “No more dancing. This is the end!” Again members of the host village leave and soon return bringing in gifts of caribou skins, rawhide, and a great deal of useful spruce roots. These things are piled in the middle of the floor. Then the drums start up and the last and best dance of the ceremony takes place. When it is completed, the drums are hung up and the women go home. When the room is somewhat cleared, the gifts which have been “put down” previously for prestige or privilege are brought out and added to the pile in the middle of the kashim floor. Two old men of the host village sit down beside it and tell two other men what things to pass out and to whom. Only visitors receive gifts, the old men being first served are given most of the things. There is never any irritation result¬ ing from the division of the gifts nor do the gifts have anything to do with a man’s relationship as a partner. After all the gifts have been distributed, the visitors are asked to go home with their “feeding partners” to have something to eat. By this time it is certain to be almost morning. Afterward they return to the kashim and sleep. The last night. The next day—or more properly speaking, later in the same day— the men get up from their rest. As on ordinary occasions, toward evening a fire is made in the kashim. The old man who from his own village sent the message to a boy in the host village that he wanted bowls takes a sweat bath as does every other man who wishes to join in. Everyone does not, however. After the bath is over, the boy’s father comes in with new bowls and perhaps ten fish and gives them to the old man. Then all the other people of the host village offer the old man presents which are taken care of for him. In the evening, the members of the host group go out of the kashim again and bring in dry fish. This time there is much of it and what is not eaten is taken out¬ side and kept as a gift for the visitors. Finally the messengers, and this time without any maskettes, go out and call in the women. When everyone is in the kashim, the young boys who have had things “put down” for them on the previous night line up at the back of the kashim while the girls who have had something “put down” in their honor line up at the sides. Then the boys and girls dance in unison, repeating one of the easiest and best known performances of the previous night but without use of the masks. There is no more dancing and, after taking their rest again, the visitors leave for home in the morning. The visitors return no gifts at the dance, an opportunity occurring only when they choose to give a mask dance and ask the same village in return.

96

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

When the visitors have gone, the owners of the various masks take them down and put them away in their caches or hide them in the woods. One thing all the people know and that is that they should never burn the masks or even the shavings which result while they are being made. The Great Ceremonies: The Animal’s Ceremony

Introduction. The animal’s ceremony stands out as the greatest social affair of the Ingalik. Although the serious purpose is to increase the number of animals because of the interest in the food they supply, the ceremony also ranks above all others with respect to the pleasure it provides for the people. The story which fol¬ lows is told to explain the origin of the animal’s ceremony. Long ago the people had many ceremonies but not this one for the animals. It was noted that the animals sometimes were plentiful for two winters and then disappeared entirely. They had returned to the place from which all animals come. It is inside the hills. There is a door and the interior is brightly illuminated with the “animal’s light.” One day a shaman told the people that he had seen in a dream this wonderful place where all the animals go. He recorded that the “animal people” had strange faces and a kashim which was extraordinarily decorated. The shaman then stated that it would be a good idea if the animals could be attracted to the Ingalik country by decorating a kashim to look like the one in their home in the mountains. Someone asked him, “How are we going to fix those things?” and the shaman answered, “I will show you.” He sent a man to get wood and while he was gone, the shaman went behind the kashim and made medicine under a skin cover. When he had finished, he asked for the wood which had been brought and marked with charcoal the outlines of the two flat “side pieces” and the “middle” piece which are characteristic of the animal’s ceremony. Then he marked the faces of the masks and the rest of the paraphernalia, copying them from what he had seen in his dream of the “animal people” and their decorations in their kashim inside of the hills. After this he returned behind the kashim to make more medicine. Finally he taught the people the songs he had heard, saying that he was unable to obtain more than parts of the songs and that the people would have to make up the remainder themselves, a circumstance which explains the variations in the songs of the Ingalik performances. The animal’s ceremony takes place usually in the winter, either before or after the potlatch for the dead. A village has only one performance during a year, and in some years none at all. The animal’s ceremony may last from fourteen to twentyseven days, but seventeen is the most usual number and that of the typical cere¬ mony which will be described here. When an animal s ceremony is to be given in one village, the people of another are not specially invited. No messengers are sent and consequently no maskettes are used. On the other hand, everyone is welcome who wishes to attend. This, the Ingalik take for granted, and the news is spread by people who happen to be travel¬ ing from one village to another. Although visitors may come any time, it is on the

OSGOOD: INGALIIv SOCIAL CULTURE

97

occasion of the fourth night for the door of the kashim, often the fourteenth of the ceremony as a whole, that large numbers of people from other villages arrive to join in the festivities. Organization. The performance of an animal’s ceremony is initiated by four or five men who wish to have the dance. To succeed they must win the agreement of the two principal performers, to whom we shall refer as the red male mask and the red female mask, as well as that of the song leader whose role is the most important of all. Once an agreement is reached to hold the ceremony, preparations begin. Since this festival is long and somewhat complicated in its organization, it will be wise to summarize the procedure and also to make some general comments before going further. The basic unit of the animal’s ceremony begins after supper with the principal activities taking place that night, but with a continuation the following day. This unit, which hereafter will be called a “night,” therefore starts early one evening and continues through dinner of the following day. The first two nights of the animal’s ceremony are considered as preliminary to the main performance which begins on the third night. The latter is also properly denoted as the first night for the first corner of the kashim. Two to four nights may be taken up for each of the four corners of the kashim but, if more than two, the third and fourth are merely interludes of no activity in order to allow the celebrants to recuperate and to per¬ form necessary duties. In the present account only two nights will be described for each corner. The eleventh night is the first for the door of the kashim. There are always four nights devoted to the door, and the performance on the last of these nights, which may run continuously for twenty-four hours, supplies the crescendo of the festival. Following the performance of the fourth night for the door comes a sequel of one to five nights—the fifteenth to nineteenth—which may be compressed because some of the people wish to hunt. The major part of the performance consists of symbolic and imitative dances against a background of songs accompanied by drums. A variety of novelties takes place between the dances and particularly in the daytime. Also, stories in explana¬ tion of the symbolic dances may be told on the afternoons before the dances re¬ ferred to take place. The games which occur on the last days of the ceremony repre¬ sent a release of energy on the part of the younger people. During the weeks of the festival a fire is not usually built in the kashim, but if a fire is made once or twice, this will be done on the third or fourth night for each corner which are essentially for recuperation. A fire is seldom really needed, for the crowd of people in the kashim supply adequate heat from their own bodies. Also, the tunnel which connects the fire hole with the entrance is in regular use during the animal’s ceremony, and because of this the ashes remaining from a fire must be cleaned out, a dirty undertaking which the young men do not like. The people attend the ceremonial dances in fine clothing, which they immediately take off when they go outside. Once a performance has started, however, men and women are not allowed to go out until the singing and dancing have finished. If they

98

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Fig. 14. AnimaPs Ceremony Masks,

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

99

did, they would go to the animal’s country and never return. If it is necessary to urinate, boxes or baskets will be utilized inside the kashim. Children, however, are not subject to the restrictions on mobility. Men, who have gained the privilege by a method which will be described later, sit on the benches in the kashim. Others sit under the benches or on the floor surrounding the fireplace. It should be particu¬ larly noted that women in no circumstances may sit on the benches. They usually squat, resting their weight on the flat of their feet. The symbolic dances take place in the fire hole or more often on the floor in the area around about it. While the dances are in progress, four or five drummers occupy the central position in front of the middle of the rear bench. On the other hand, the principal singers are grouped together in the left front corner of the kashim as one faces the door. Of the leading participants in the ceremony, we must speak more in detail. Principal performers. The most important individual in the animal’s ceremony is the song leader, or as the Ingalik literally say, “the-one-who-knows-the-songs.” This role is not an inherited privilege but one acquired by interest, ability, and train¬ ing. It is inevitable that such a person is a man with a gift for learning not only the songs but the coordination of them with the dances and their order of presentation. There are many songs which belong to this festival including one group of twenty and another arrangement of six, besides others which are not in series. Very few people know all the songs and usually two or three of the most talented men have to come together to work out the sequences. Apparently the sparsity of words in the songs does not make memorizing easier and inevitably there are variations from performance to performance. Next to the song leader, the pair of dancers known as the red male mask and the red female mask (Fig. 14, upper left) is most important. The name given to the red mask dancers by the Ingalik means “to-go-at-night,” which has reference to the fact that most of the red mask dances take place after supper and particularly on that evening which is the fourth night for the door. Without the agreement of these performers the ceremony cannot be held because their specialized dancing, so neces¬ sary to it, is a privilege which descends usually from father to son. The red male mask belongs to one family, the female to another. There is one pair of these per¬ formers in each village. Actually the privilege is given to the best dancer among the sons of a performer or to his nephew or grandson. Some boys refuse to accept the privilege because of the responsibility. The reason that these masks are an inherited privilege is said to be because the “animal people,” who live inside the mountains and whom these red masks represent, are wealthy. Therefore, ordinary people could not properly perform with these masks. These red masks worn by the dancers are distinguished in appearance by their over-all red color and their relative flatness, the features being cut in extremely low relief. The shapes are more or less rectangular with rounded corners. From the fore¬ head of each mask project five feather ornaments made by bunching some breast feathers from a bird, such as a ptarmigan, at the end of the shaft of one of the long-

100

Fig. 15. Interior of Ivashim Decorated for the Animal’s Ceremony.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

101

est primary feathers from which its own feather vanes have been cut away. The masks are about eleven inches high and seven wide. The red male mask is distin¬ guished by a pair of labrets just below the corners of the mouth, whereas the red female mask has a bead pendant from the nose and black tattoo marks extending downward from the lower lip to the chin. The red mask dancers wear the regular Ingalik fur clothing, but of fine quality. Next in importance to the red masks in the animal’s ceremony are the black masks. There is a pair of these distinguished as the big or older brother black mask (Fig. 14, upper right) and the little brother black mask which will be referred to hereafter simply as the big black mask and the little black mask. The Ingalik name for this pair of performers means literally “to-go-in-the-daytime” which refers to the fact that their activities largely take place in the afternoon, but not exclusively so. The black masks are the recurrent “fun makers” of the animal’s ceremony. The masks themselves, like the red masks, are distinguished by having one color over all which in this case is black. These masks also are roughly rectangular with rounded corners, but are not so flat in cross section, having projecting noses and ornaments. The black masks are almost identical except that labrets appear beside the mouth of the big black mask and are lacking in the little black one. Unlike the red masks, the black ones do not have feather ornamentation. Also, the black masks have round eye and mouth holes, whereas the eyes and mouths of the pair of red masks are laterally extended. The black masks are about eleven inches high and six inches wide. The black mask dancers wear special fish skin clothes during their per¬ formances. Besides the pair of red masks and the pair of black masks there are two more individually designated masks which, although not properly a pair, might be desig¬ nated as “funny faces,” and which appear on the fourteenth night only. The first of these is referred to literally as “comes-in-to-throw” because of its characteristic performance (Fig. 14, lower left). The mask is carved with elaborate contours, the nose being large with a globular bead suspended from it. The face is colored black except for the end of the nose, the projecting cheeks and ears, and the eyes, all of which are red. Surmounting the forehead and extending down behind the ears is a thick ornamentation of caribou hair. This funny face mask is about eleven inches high and six inches wide. The other mask of this general type is described as having a funny sharp nose, and the name of this character is literally “head-down-in-the-hole” which comes from the fact that this mask at one point leans his head in through the smoke hole and yells (Fig. 14, lower right). The role taken by this mask, like the other funny one, is relatively minor, however, compared with the characters previously men¬ tioned. The sharp nose mask, as we shall call it, is perhaps the most ornamental of those we have described, with deep sculpturing of the face areas distinguished by a large projecting nose. The forehead is trimmed with rabbit fur and large areas of the face are set off in contrasting red and black colors. This mask is also the largest in the series of special characters, being twelve inches high and about six inches wide.

102

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Apart from these individually distinguished masks there is a whole group that will be called variable masks. The Ingalik call these “throw-it-inside” because the performers wearing these masks enter through the tunnel and “throw themselves inside” the kashim from the fire hole (Fig. 12, lower left). The role played by the variable masks is a minor one, and they are intended only to look funny. Every night throughout the festival when the masks are not in use, they are hung up behind the kashim on willows, if willows are convenient, or on poles stuck up in the snow. Properties. Since the decoration of the kashim for the animal’s ceremony has an exotic quality which also distinguishes certain ceremonial objects used during a feast, it may be helpful to give some description of these objects individually before pro¬ ceeding to a coherent account of the ceremony through a progression of days. Most of these items, however, will be elaborated upon in the sequence of events which involves their use. The principal piece of paraphernalia of the animal’s ceremony is the hoop, an ornamental construction which is suspended from the kashim ceiling and at the same time supported by sticks fastened into the ground at the top of the kashim wall (Fig. 15). The role of this construction in the minds of the people is best understood when one realizes that the Ingalik name for this, their chief festival, is actually “the hoop” or, more literally translated, “the suspended poles.” The “hoop” in re¬ ality is a pair of hoops of as large a diameter as the kashim will contain, fastened one below the other at a distance of about two feet by means of connecting poles spaced three feet apart. The supports which are driven into the ground behind the top of the kashim wall, and on the outer ends of which rests the hoop, are called “animal souls.” This is because these sticks, which are about three feet long, are carved at their projecting ends with the representations of various animals which the people would like to have more plentiful. Actually these sticks, which are up to a half inch thick and two inches wide, have their ends carved in the form of berries or anything else that a person desires. Sometimes the hoop supports are called “fish trap sticks” simply because their manufacture and appearance before carving are similar to the pieces so commonly made for fish traps. Of special ceremonial significance is a pair of side pieces used to decorate the kashim (Fig. 16, right). Each of these is made from a flat piece of wood a few inches wide and perhaps ten feet long. A series of four semicircular indentations are cut into opposing sides of each piece. These side pieces have holes in both ends through which they are tied at the top to the head rest above the kashim bench and at the bottom to a pair of pegs driven into the floor. Each piece lies against the edge of the bench in extending from the middle of the head rest at one side of the kashim to the floor near the lamp stand. Even more significant is the “middle” piece (Fig. 16, left) This is a pole of about five or six feet in length and square in cross section. The width and breadth, each of which has an extension of perhaps two inches, are carved like the side pieces with

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

\J

103

V

Fig. 16. Paraphernalia of the Animal’s Ceremony.

four concentric depressions. At the beginning of the ceremony the “middle” piece, which is pointed at one end, is stuck between the floor planks about a foot in front of the middle of the rear bench or close enough to the latter so that no one can pass between this pole and the bench. The “middle” piece serves to mark the progression of the ceremony by being placed in one corner of the kashim after another and finally at the door. In addition to the constructions mentioned above, numerous other items will be described at the time of their use. These will include such things as the ceremonial plant which is collected and made into seven bundles, four of which are tied to the corners of the kashim and the other three to the pair of side pieces and to the “mid¬ dle” piece. There are also a large number of paraphernalia that are made to accom¬ pany the mask dancers at individual performances. Traditionally, two animal bladders are hungup at the back of the kashim at the start of the ceremonies. These are never used again because they have too much “power,” it is said. On the other hand, the masks, side pieces, and “middle” piece are hidden and preserved under a spruce tree in the woods when not in use. Even the ten feathers for the red masks are carefully wrapped in a piece of birch bark and hung in the tree. Taken out for a ceremony, the equipment is refurbished as needed with fresh paint and feathers. Only when pieces have become decayed to a point where they are unusable are com¬ plete replacements made. Finally, we must mention the tambourine drums and clapper sticks which supply the instrumental music for the ceremony. On the day of the evening on which the animal’s ceremony is scheduled to begin, men put up poles outside the kashim at the corners of the roof. On the top of these four sticks the skins of any kind of hawk are fastened. These insignia show that an animal’s ceremony is in progress and people are thereby warned not to walk past

104

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

the sticks or behind the kashim as to do so would bring misfortune upon the com¬ munity. The only approach to the kashim is directly to the door in front and to the ceremony, a description of which follows. First night: 1st 'preliminary. After supper on the first night of the animal s cere¬ mony, all the people gather in the kashim. Four or five men bring their tambourine drums and start drumming. One man sings and everyone who knows the song joins in. Then the young men begin to dance, moving their bodies up and down by bend¬ ing their knees. After a couple of hours, the dancing, singing, and drumming stop. One man asks another, “Have you any fish trap sticks?” referring, of course, to the supports for the ceremonial hoop. This question instigates a song about these hoop supports which is a warning to have enough of them ready. After the singing, the people disband to do as they please. Before sunrise the next morning, the men bring into the kashim the three-foot poles which they have prepared for hoop supports and plan to spend a busy day assembling the decorations and other paraphernalia for the ceremony. Soon after¬ ward, two young men are chosen for the duty of gathering ceremonial plants for the occasion. Even though this may be a cold and wet undertaking, some men prefer this task which involves spending the day in the woods rather than working inside the kashim. Facing the door, each of these two men sits on the floor a foot from the fire hole with his legs outstretched. While this activity is going on in the kashim, each of the women in the com¬ munity, dressed in her best clothes, fills two food bowls, one with fish and the other with “ice cream.” These food dishes are generally those of a husband and son, but others may be substituted since each woman must have two regardless of her age or relationships. Even little girls before their first menstruation participate, although they are apt to be frightened by the requirements. When each woman has her two bowls of food, she goes to the kashim door and waits until the other members of her sex have gathered with her. A woman is embarrassed at the idea of being the first to enter. Sometimes a man who is bringing in sticks will say to his wife as he passes, “You go in, the boys are ready.” Perhaps one of the young men sitting by the fire¬ place may be sent out to urge the women to bring in the plates of food. In any event, some woman starts the parade. She enters the kashim through the doors with one food bowl in each hand and walks slowly up to the left side of the fireplace where she puts one bowl down between the first man and the edge of the fire hole. She continues sunwise around the end of the fireplace to put her second bowl on the floor between the other seated man and the fire hole. Then she walks slowly back to¬ ward the front of the kashim, turns around sunwise facing the men, and squats on the floor. The two men sitting beside the fireplace wait a little and then either one of them raises his hand from the food bowl next to him into the air as though lifting food from the dish. He does this only once and may use either of his hands. When he has finished, the other man at the opposite side of the fireplace does the same thing. When both have finished, the woman who brought in the two bowls of food stands up, turns sunwise, and walks out of the kashim.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

105

Each woman goes through this same performance in turn, adding her two bowls to those already on the floor and thus making two lines of dishes extending toward the door, or, when there are too many bowls, double lines of dishes may be formed. When all the women who have brought in their dishes following the ritual procedure in every case have left the kashim, the two men seated beside the fireplace actually eat a little of the food in the bowls brought in by the first woman. The remainder of the food is saved for a lunch. Then these two men who are to go for the ceremonial plants get up and leave the kashim. When the two young men in search of the ceremonial plants step outside, they find the village deserted. All the women have gone inside their houses, for it is strictly taboo for them to look at the young men while the latter are undertaking their ceremonial mission. Before the boys set out, some older men come out of the kashim and tell them once again what is expected. They are each to collect a large bundle of the ceremonial plants which they believe they can find where they grow near a lake. After collecting the plants they must not return to the village before darkness has set in. At nightfall they are to come into the village and proceed to the kashim, walking up on top of it and singing the songs and behaving in the pre¬ scribed manner which they have been taught. With these instructions, the young men leave on their search. While the old men are talking to the boys outside the kashim, others inside pass the food dishes brought in by the women. After the boys go off, their preceptors come in and all the food is eaten. When empty, the bowls are shoved to one side on the floor to be later recognized, picked up, and taken home by the husbands of the women who brought them in. About a quarter of an hour after the young men have left to obtain the ceremonial plants, a number of the men go outside the kashim. One old man says, “Who is going to get the masks and the sticks?” Another answers, “Cousin, go and show these boys where they are,” indicating several younger men in the group. Then the old man who has been addressed goes off leading the boys who haul a sled. The old man takes them to a tree in the woods under which the ceremonial paraphernalia have been hidden, protected by a drooping spread of spruce branches. The masks and sticks are placed on the sled, hauled back to the village, and carried into the kashim. After being brought inside, the ceremonial masks are freshly painted and new feathers added. The men working on the masks take them outside as they are finished and hang them up behind the kashim on willows or on stakes driven into the snow. While some men are renewing the masks, others prepare the fixed decorations of the room. They split the fish trap sticks which had been brought in early in the morning, making strips of them one and a half inches wide, about half an inch thick, and three feet long. On the ends of these they carve an animal, a leaf, a berry, or anything they wish, but each stick is carved to represent some different thing. Of these sticks which support the hoop, they make two big piles. Then someone goes out and brings in fish trap sticks about six feet long. These are quartered and split into pieces about one-quarter inch thick and one and one-half inches wide measuring up

106

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

to six feet long, for some are a little shorter. These uncarved pieces are piled in one place apart from those previously prepared. Another man brings in spruce roots and starts to splice the ends of a series of the long sticks together. When he has enough fastened so that the ends are deflected by opposite walls of the kashim, he says to some fellow, “Bend that thing around,” and then continues splicing. When he believes that he has spliced enough pieces to¬ gether to encircle the kashim, the man says, “Put them on the bench and we will measure it.” Then all the occupants of the kashim pick up the sticks that have been spliced together and, placing them on the benches, bend them around until they form a big hoop of maximum size for the kashim. Finally the two ends are lashed together forming an oval construction. A second hoop is made in exactly the same way and placed on top of the first. Short pieces are added to separate the two hoops so that they are between two and two and a half feet apart. These short sticks which are used to separate the two hoops are placed about three feet apart. To each of the hoops halfway between each two vertical sticks, bunches of ptarmigan feathers and a band of red paint are applied. When completed, the hoop, actually a double one, is suspended in the air against the kashim ceiling by lines tied to the roof logs. The bottom of the hoop is then at a height just above the heads of the men sitting upright on the benches. Finally the supporting sticks have their uncarved ends driven into the ground at the top of the kashim wall, thus allowing the carved ends to serve somewhat as a sup¬ port for the hoop, the latter being bent so as to fit more or less into the corners. Actually the carvings of the supporting sticks project into the hoop toward its center. Along with the other preparations, two new lamp stands must be made to replace the old ones. Each of these will be carved by some man, regardless of age, who wishes to do so. For the material of each, a spruce tree with a burl will have been found, the burl serving for the spreading top of the stand. It is quite understandable that the man who undertakes this contribution will gain repute as a hard-working craftsman. When the new lamp stands have been placed near the middle of the side benches of the kashim, the side pieces are fastened near them, extending from the head rest to the special stakes inserted in the floor. The “middle” piece will also be stuck in the starting position near the bench directly behind the fireplace. As one may guess, many of the preliminary activities go on at the same time, and it may be well into the day following the second night of the ceremony before everything is finished. In the late afternoon when darkness has come down over the village, the two young men who have set out in their search for ceremonial plants return with their bundles. They go on the roof of the kashim and one of them takes off the smoke hole cover. Then, beginning at the corner nearest to where the sun has set, he pokes his bundle of plants, tied up with the end of a long line, into the kashim and then pulls it out again. This gesture he repeats at each of the other three corners of the smoke hole, moving around it sunwise. He is followed by the other young man who

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

107

does the same thing with his bundle. At the start of this procedure both boys sing a special song without words for the occasion. As they do so, a man inside the kashim takes up a drum and sings the same song. When the boys have poked their bundles through the smoke hole at each corner, they then lower them down toward the fireplace where two men are waiting to receive them. These latter men grasp the plants and open the bundles on the floor, dividing the contents into seven parts. Each of these seven parts is then distributed, four being tied to the inside corners of the kashim ceiling and the other three being fastened onto the two side pieces and the “middle” piece. This is quickly done and the two ceremonial plant gatherers, still singing, come inside the kashim through the door. As each approaches his starting point beside the fireplace, he performs a dance, moving his arms up and down like a tightrope walker retaining his balance. One or more drums are beaten in accompaniment. When the dancing is over, the performers stop singing and sit down beside the fireplace facing the door in their original positions. Someone asks them if any animals had crossed their trail while they were gathering plants. One of them answers, “When we came back along our trail we saw the tracks of a rabbit and of a mink.” Then the people say, “Good, that will make this ceremony lucky.” Of course, the plant gatherers always say they have seen animal tracks whether they actually have seen them or not. The next act of the program takes place when two men, who are to wear the black masks, leave the kashim and go to their homes to collect the masks and the sets of fish skin clothes which must be worn with them. This done, the two men return to the house closest to the kashim which they use as a dressing room, taking off their regular garments and putting on those of fish skin. While the men change their clothing, a couple of boys remove the center boards of the fire hole cover. When the black masks are ready, they come in the door of the kashim entryway and proceed down the steps through the outer door of the entrance. Removing the floor of the entrance, the big black mask steps down into the tunnel and crawls through on his hands and knees to the fireplace. The little black mask is right behind him. The people inside the kashim are, of course, aware of what is going on and a certain tension increases the pervading quietness. Suddenly the big black mask jumps out of the fire hole and onto one of the cover boards. The little black mask jumps behind him onto the other side. Both make an awful noise by this jumping and by yelling “Waa” as loudly as they can. Then after getting their breath they yell “Waa” again with the full force of their lungs, whereupon they jump down into the fire hole and disappear by the route that they used to come in. This performance takes place regularly at the end of each day and the expla¬ nation given for the yelling is that it is supposed to scare people. One may compre¬ hend that it makes the people aware that a night of ceremony is approaching, and also it seems to serve as a signal for the women to bring in the evening meal. After the black maskers have gone out, the women of the community bring food in bowls and drinking water in baskets to the kashim. These are distributed in the

108

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

usual fashion to husbands and sons, and to other men toward whom the obligation of feeding exists. The men eat their supper after which the women remove the containers. Second night: 2nd 'preliminary. Since the preparation for the ceremony has been exhausting, not to mention the effect of the great excitement of the occasion, each man seeks the place where he will sleep in the crowded kashim. All the area of the benches and floor is utilized and the people drift into unconsciousness as the con¬ versation decreases and disappears altogether. The next morning after the men have wakened, the women bring food for them from the houses. They come into the kashim, put their food bowls down in front of the persons for whom they are intended, and then go right out instead of waiting for the empty dishes which will be returned to the houses at a later time. After eating, the men may continue with whatever final preparations of material are needed for the ceremony. No one does any other work after the festival starts except to visit fish traps and thus add to the food supply. Otherwise the men spend the day as they please. One individual, however, must always remain in the kashim so that it will not become empty. At dark and just before supper, as on the previous day, the two “brothers” in the big black and little black masks do their ceremonial performance of crying “Waa.” Again after the masks leave, the women bring in supper for the men. These food bringers return home with the empty bowls but soon come back for the evening performance. Third night: 1st for 1st corner. The main part of the animal’s ceremony begins when an old man pulls the square stick known as the “middle” piece from the floor in front of the middle of the rear bench. With it in his hand he walks over to the corner of the kashim that is to the right of the door as he faces it. There he makes four passes like lance thrusts toward the corner with the “middle” piece, shoving it into the wall at the last pass so that it sticks out straight into the room. This signifies that there will be a dance that night. Before it takes place, however, the men may take a walk outside to digest their supper or perhaps they may go to visit their wives. In proper time, however, all the people, or at least any who wish to, come into the kashim for the evening performance. Two men are missing, however. These are the performers with the red male and red female masks. They have gone to the house next to the kashim which serves as a dressing room. There, dishes of “ice cream” and food are placed on two caribou skins stretched on the floor. This offering is made by courtesy of the owner of the house. The two dancers polish their red masks with shavings until they actually shine. While they are doing this, the song leader inside the kashim starts to sing. He sings softly at first and in slow tempo gradually increasing the volume as the song approaches its end. One by one the people in the kashim join in the singing until all seem to participate. The song leader in this manner commences a series of twenty songs.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

109

One of the red mask dancers in the adjacent house asks the other to find out at what time they are supposed to make their entrance. The latter goes into the kashim and questions the song leader who states that at a certain song they are to enter the tunnel and then they are to come out of the fire hole at the beginning of the next. The man returns to the house and tells his partner. When the proper time arrives, the dancers dressed in fine fur clothes, one as a male and the other a female, go into the tunnel at the entrance with their masks. The hoods of their parkas are pulled over their heads. As the next song begins they rise from the fireplace wearing their masks. Only the middle drummer of the group is drumming. He hits his tambourine twice, holding it at an angle toward one side and then shifting to hit it twice at an angle toward the other side, repeating this alterna¬ tion continually as the song proceeds. The red male mask comes out of the fire hole first, moving slowly and keeping time with the drum. The red female mask follows. With knees bent and bodies swaying, the two dancers move to the front of the kashim near the door. More drums join the first and the rhythm moves faster, the dancers increasing their pace correspondingly. All of this time the singers are singing. Finally the dance is over and the performers leave the kashim, the red male mask always preceding the female. After they have returned to the house where they dressed, one returns to the kashim without his mask and asks the song leader, “Which one are we going to do next?” “Make the muskrat,” says the song leader. The dancer returns to the house where he and his partner construct a symbolic imitation of a muskrat from a bunch of grass and some sticks. Again he may return to the kashim in order to reach a final understanding about the cue for their en¬ trance. At the proper song the red mask dancers enter the tunnel as before. The red male mask carries a miniature bow and arrow decorated with bands of red paint. At the proper song he rises from the fire hole to the beating of one drum as before. Then he kneels down with the “muskrat” extended between his legs. The red female mask merely sits in the fire hole listening. Some person in the kashim audience works the “muskrat” back and forth between the red male masker’s legs. The latter dances only by turning his head and shoulders a little in time to the drumming. While he does so, however, he shoots at the “muskrat” with his little bow and arrow. After he has shot at the “muskrat,” anyone in the audience who wishes may do so and per¬ haps half of the people participate in this manner. Finally the red male mask grabs the “muskrat” and goes out of the kashim followed by the red female mask. They leave the “muskrat” on the entryway roof and, after removing their masks and costumes at the adjoining house, return to the kashim. This is the end of the dances for the first night for the first corner. The women go home and the men go to sleep in the kashim. The next morning the men get up and the women bring in bowls of food for break¬ fast as is usual. They are told, however, to prepare fish eggs for the evening’s per-

110

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

formance as it has been planned to sing the song of the Canada jay. This song is said to have been originally a private privilege of some Bonasila people but it was stolen by a man from Holy Cross, an act which almost resulted in warfare between the two villages involved. It should be made clear again, that the order of songs and dances is determined by the song leader and ideally there is no variation from year to year. Indeed, it is said that were the song leader to make a mistake, someone in his family would die as a result. During the day the men are free to do as they please. Some visit fish traps while the women are busily engaged in preparing food and undertaking various home duties. As the evening closes in, there is the regular repetition of the performance by the big and little black masks crying “Waa” and the serving of supper by the women. Fourth night: 2nd for 1st corner. After supper one man comes in with a bundle of sticks about four feet long. These ceremonial clapper sticks have little bunches of any kind of feathers fastened at both ends and three red bands in between. They have been made by some men in preparation for the ceremony. Each man in the kashim is given a pair of the sticks and if there are enough of them, pairs are dis¬ tributed even to the little boys and afterward the little girls. None of the women are given ceremonial clapper sticks. When everything is ready, the song leader begins to sing slowly. Two drums are beaten softly. Gradually the song becomes faster and louder and all the people join in the singing, hitting their clapper sticks together in rapid rhythm. Perhaps three songs are sung and another man will add a fourth. While the songs are being sung and the clapper sticks are struck together, the women get up and dance. When the dancing is over, some young man gathers up all the clapper sticks, piling them at one side. Then he makes a bundle of them and carries them outside the kashim and deposits them any place out of the way. To complete the performance the women, except for some old ones, go home and return with plates, and the wives who have prepared fish eggs bring them in for distribution. Then the people eat. Although there may not be enough fish eggs to go around, no one seems to care. The day following the fourth night goes by with the same kind of activity as the preceding day and ends with the cries of the black masks and supper. As previously mentioned, one or two more nights and days may pass with the “middle” piece remaining in the first corner. Such an extension of the ceremony, however, bespeaks a plentiful supply of food, for the time will be used only for rest and more common¬ place social enjoyment. Fifth night: 1st for 2nd corner. The man who put the “middle” piece in the first corner to the right of the door, or some other man, pulls it out and repeats the pro¬ cedure of making four passes at the next corner going sunwise around the kashim. Again the piece is stuck in horizontally on the last lancelike movement. This begins the ceremony of the first night for the second corner which in abbreviated form parallels that of the first for the first corner. The song leader commences singing, and

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

111

again with agreement as to time, the red male and female masks enter and dance as they had done previously. The song leader may sing ten songs and afterward simply state, “That is all.” The following day differs from the previous one only in that the wives are told that the rotten fish dance will be given after supper. The black mask performers with their cries of “Waa,” followed by supper, finish the day. Sixth night: 2nd for 2nd corner. The first part of the evening performance begins when a man goes outside of the kashim and returns with the same bundle of fourfoot sticks with feathers bunched on their ends as were used for the dance on the second night for the first corner. These ceremonial clapper sticks are again passed around to the men, each receiving a pair while those left over are distributed among the children. A special song is sung, and then more songs with which the women dance as on the previous occasion. Again the ceremonial clapper sticks are stacked and tied into a bundle and carried out of the kashim. Afterward, this time it is the men who leave the kashim and go to their houses returning with bowls of rotten fish and fish heads. This food is of the usual type that is buried in special under¬ ground caches for winter use—a kind of Ingalik “cheese.” The people like and happily eat it, just as they did the fish eggs on the former occasion. The second part of the evening’s ceremony begins when the red female mask dancer comes in and asks the song leader, “What are we going to have now?” “Both of you come in. I am going to sing two songs,” he says and tells them how to prepare for the dance. The red mask dancer joins his partner in the house next to the kashim, and each proceeds to make a symbolic fish trap fence by fastening small six-inch cross sticks between two parallel ones about two and a half feet long, decorating this construc¬ tion with a band of red paint in the middle of the cross pieces and at a few points on the longer ones, finally adding bunches of any kind of feathers to places that have no paint (Fig. 17, bottom). Then at the proper time the red male mask and the red female mask, dressed for the performance and each carrying his symbolic fish trap fence, proceed to the entrance and enter the tunnel. As the song leader begins his chant, which starts with the word “grandmother” and continues with a repetition of the meaningless syllables, “wa-le,” the red male mask rises from the fire hole and kneels beside it on the right-hand side facing the door. The red female mask follows taking the lefthand position. As the song continues, the red masks move their heads and shoulders in time to the drum, at the same time breaking the little symbolic fish trap fences they each hold, by pounding them into pieces on the floor. When the song is over and the paraphernalia smashed, the red masks pick up the pieces and carry them outside where they deposit them at the front door. Each bit of these fences is thought to represent a fish trap. The red masks then return to the dressing room where they may enjoy a little food that is always placed in readiness for them. The events of the following day are common to those preceding and lack any mentionable points of distinction.

112

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

113

Seventh night: 1st for 3rd corner. As previously, the “middle” piece is moved and this time to the third corner which is the right rear one as one faces the back of the kashim. As one part of the evening ceremony, the red male and female masks may perform their usual dance, while the older brother or big black mask creates a little fun. Properly, however, the big black mask should play the role of the mime in the dance of the muskrat hunt. If this is to be done, the song leader asks a man known for his gift at mimicry to take the part of the black mask. If the man agrees he says, “I am going to be the older brother.” It is this older brother or big black mask dancer, of course, who is particularly noted for comic acts. The song leader goes over the role with him that he has to play, after which the man goes to the house used as a dressing room where he joins the red male mask dancer who will help him. The man who is to wear the big black mask reviews the routine with the red male mask, and then goes off to get the mask and the accompanying fish skin clothes from the man who usually wears them. When he returns, he and the red male mask dress themselves for the performance. It is notable, as with a series of such dances among the Ingalik, that the big black mask performance is pure mimicry. The black mask does not speak, the spoken parts being improvised by the audience. When all is ready, the big black mask and the red male mask go to the entrance and crawl through the tunnel. Inside the kashim there is singing and drumming. The big black mask leaps out from the fire hole with a shout and starts jumping around. The singing and drumming stops, but the black mask jumps and jumps. The onlookers make remarks. “What are you going to do?” The black mask makes the motions of one shooting with a bow and arrow toward the fireplace. “Oh, you are going to shoot a muskrat.” Somebody throws him two sticks to use for a bow and arrow, while another asks, “What place will you go?” The big black mask makes signs indicating that he is going to a lake and ends up by obviously paddling a canoe. While this goes on, men offer advice and all sorts of funny comments on the conditions of his travel. Then the dancer gestures as would a man who is portaging his canoe. “Oh, there are lots of muskrat,” says an onlooker observing the red male mask in the fireplace contriving the distinctive sound of the muskrat. “A ou had better hurry up and kill them before your brother gets them all.” “What’s the matter with you? Sleepy?” another cries. The dancer bows his head in affirmative answer and pretends to sleep. “Paddle your canoe and you will keep awake,” suggests another man. The black mask jumps into his imaginary canoe and paddles up and down the room a few times while the red male mask sticks his head up from the fire hole. “Is that a muskrat?” cries a man. “Looks like a stump to you, you’re so sleepy,” adds someone else in the audience.

114

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

At this the red male mask comes up out of the fire hole and going over to the big black mask, who is pretending to sleep, he hits him on the head with a stick to wake him up. The big black mask pretends that he is drifting into the willows and rubs his eyes while the red male mask jumps back into the fireplace again. “Are you all right now?” asks an onlooker. The red male mask rises from the fireplace again, and the black mask points his arrow at him. “Go closer. You can’t hit him,” advises someone. The black mask shoots and the “arrow” goes on the floor, the red male mask disappearing in the fire hole. The black mask paddles closer and picks up his arrow and then paddles a little more. “Shoot again. Hit his head if you want to kill him,” advises the audience. He shoots again but they tell him that he did not shoot far enough, that he should go ashore and dry his bow, and various other suggestions. Finally the red male mask climbs out of the fireplace and pokes the buttocks of the black mask who is resting on the shore. The black mask’s only reaction is to scratch himself. “Maybe that was a muskrat,” someone says. The black mask looks around, but the red male has gone. He settles down again and becomes the target for more remarks. “Probably it was birds.” “Don’t let your bow burn.” The red male mask pokes him again. “Next time you turn around slow and you may see the muskrat. You don’t know how to hunt muskrats. We always watch when we hunt. You are sitting right on the muskrat’s hole. Why don’t you watch?” Then the red male mask comes up out of the fire hold again. “Grab him, grab him!” The people all around throw mittens (representing muskrats) at the black mask and he grabs them, pretending that they are biting him all over, while the red male mask makes the sound of muskrats as loudly as he can. Finally the black mask throws the mittens in the air and then holds them up indicating they are dead. “Oh, what a lot of muskrats,” say the onlookers. “You are bitten all over.” Then the black mask rubs himself all over and the people cry, “You’re all healed now.” Then the big black mask dances all around crying his usual “Waa” which is the only thing he says during the performance. Afterward he leaves the kashim. The people may sing five or six songs to conclude the evening. The following day like the preceding one has no individual distinction. Eighth night: 2nd for 3rd corner. There is no special dance which necessarily takes place on the second night for this corner. It is at this time, however, that the ceremony which gives to each visitor the privilege of sitting on the benches most commonly occurs. Those without the privilege have heretofore been standing directly in front of the benches. Now they group themselves around the fire hole for the performance which is called “to run around.” The name becomes obvious in

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

115

meaning as many men make a circle around the fireplace enclosing the individuals who seek the seating privilege. The encircling men have their heads down against the shoulders of the fellows in front of them and hold on tightly to make a solid ring as they run. There is no insistence that this can be done only in one direction. There is no singing or drumming as the circle moves. Once it has started, however, the privilege seekers inside climb over the backs of the participants comprising the moving ring in order to reach the outside of the circle and thus gain the bench sitting privilege. This procedure of climbing is made more difficult by the fact that the runners intermittently change their speed. The visitors consequently may have to try several times, but when they have succeeded, people grab them to prevent their falling onto the floor. This assistance is rendered because if a visitor does fall, the young men of the host village must give that person a present to keep from losing their luck or, more exactly, to get it back from the person who falls. Sometimes visitors, who have made the transit successfully, try to climb back inside the circle and then out again, but this continuation of the activity is just for fun. There is no singing on the eighth night and people eventually go to sleep. The activities of the morning of the next day follow the usual course m til about noon when the song leader tells one of the boys to collect all the variable masks hanging on the willows behind the kashim and take them to the house next door wffiich is used as a dressing room, the women of the latter house having removed to the kashim. Eight boys of ages ranging from twelve to fifteen years are instructed by the song leader how to perform with these masks, the big black mask dancer sharing in the recapitulation. The song leader returns to the kashim and each boy goes to his own house or some other to find old clothes for the occasion. The big black mask dresses in his usual fish skin costume. The performance begins when the big black mask enters the kashim through the door, not through the tunnel, as this activity takes place in the daytime. He jumps on the floor and cries, “Waa.” He then proceeds to make gestures as though he were fishing. “Are you going to fish for pike?” says an onlooker. The dancer is given any one of the carved sticks supporting the great ceremonial hoop with the remarks, “Here is a big fish hook. Maybe you can catch only pike with it!” As on previous occasions, this routine serves as suggestion for the dancer’s actions which in turn supply the audience with the opportunity to interpret vocally and thus add to the comedy. Taking the pole, the big black mask commences fishing in the fire hole as though it were a little lake. Suddenly he seems to feel a tugging on the line and with a great business of landing his fish, out jumps one of the masked boys who have hidden in the tunnel. “Oh yes, that is a pike all right.” One of the masked boys holds tightly to the end of the fishing rod and then lets go. The black mask falls over backwards. “Oh, that’s a big fish. That is a loche,” says someone. “Eat the liver,” says another.

116

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

The fisherman puts his black mask face down on the boy’s belly and makes a noise like eating, at the same time tickling the youth who laughs out loud. The dance proceeds with the big black mask catching various kinds of fish one after the other. Finally someone says, “You haven’t caught any white fish. Your hook is too big.” The black mask continues trying but he has no luck. An onlooker asks, “Have you no ‘song’? Put some medicine on your hook.” Finally the black mask dancer pulls out the last boy. “Now you have caught the white fish,” the audience cries and the black mask jumps with glee. This finishes the dance and all the boys go out in the order they came in with the fisherman following. The variable masks which have no perceptible resemblance to fish are then hung up again behind the kashim. By this time it is growing dark. The big black mask and the little black mask do their regular dance before supper. Ninth night: 1st for 4th corner. After supper a man moves the “middle” piece to the fourth corner making the usual lancelike gestures. For a time the people sing songs and then the song leader tells the red male mask to prepare for the caribou dance, finishing with the advice, “Send your partner into the kashim once in a while so that you will know when to come in.” The red masks go to the house next to the kashim and proceed to make a model of a caribou by tying together a bundle of roots and adding various appendages. Willows are stuck in to represent horns and a piece of skin is attached for the tail. The legs, which are pegged into flat pieces like sled runners, are then firir^y em¬ bedded in a bundle of roots. Finally pieces of line are added to pull this “caribou” back and forth. The red masks also borrow an arrow or sometimes use a toy bow and arrow (Fig. 17, top left). At the appropriate time they enter the kashim through the tunnel, the male pre¬ ceding and the female following with the paraphernalia. A special song is being sung, accompanied by only one drum. The red male mask rises from the fireplace and begins to dance. In a little while he reaches down and the red female mask hands him the “caribou” and arrow from the fire hole. The dancer puts the “caribou” on the floor, and two men in the audience pull it back and forth on its runners by means of the two lines. As they do this, the red male mask, continuing his dance, pretends to shoot the “caribou” by throwing his arrow at it. After he has done so, each onlooker who wishes to kill the “caribou” takes the arrow and hits it also. Thus the arrow is passed around in turn. When the ceremony is over, the red male mask goes down into the fire hole and some onlooker puts the “caribou” in after him. The red male pulls it out through the tunnel and places it on top of the kashim entryway with the “muskrat” which had been formerly deposited there. Then he goes home. After a rest the red male mask returns to the kashim and asks the song leader what dance will follow. “Take a long sharpened stick and put feathers on the end to make a lance,” he is told, and the song leader continues to run over instructions for the ceremony. The red male mask then goes out and cuts a little stick about a foot long, trimming it

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

117

round in cross section and heavier at one end which he sharpens into a point. Then for decoration he puts some red paint on the point and four encircling bands on the shaft, finishing the miniature “lance” by tying on a small bunch of feathers at the unpointed end (Fig. 17, center). When the “lance” has been completed, the red male mask sends the red female to find out every little while if the song leader is ready. Then at the right moment they emerge from the fireplace. The red male mask, going first as usual, proceeds to the right side of the door and the red female to the left of it. There they kneel down almost facing each other but slightly toward the center of the room. As the appropriate song begins, the red male mask begins to dance by simply moving his head and shoulders in time with the drums As he does this he takes out the “lance” and makes four passes at the red female mask. On the fourth one, he throws the “lance” at the eye of the red female mask. The female may catch the “lance” or she may pick it up from where it falls. In any event, she places the point in either eye hole of her mask, the enlarged end of the “lance” serving to wedge it there. During the performance, the red female mask is also dancing as she kneels by turning her head and shoulders in a continuing movement. After a while, the red female mask removes the “lance” and, when two more songs have been sung, repeats the performance of the red male mask who continues to dance in turn with the “lance” stuck into his eye. Each of the performers repeats his part four times, with the drums and songs going faster and faster toward the end. When finished, the red male mask goes out followed by the red female as usual. They wait a little while and then ask the song leader if there will be any more dancing that night. When he says, “No, we will sing a few songs, that’s all,” they hang up the masks behind the kashim where they are always kept during the ceremony when not ir use. The next morning is not unusual except that some man makes two little hoops about six inches in diameter and two little lances perhaps two and a half feet long with any kind of hawk or ptarmigan feathers bunched on their ends. Later in the day each hoop is set up near the lamp at one side of the kashim, supported there by two attached sticks which are stuck vertically between the floor planks. This ceremonial game begins when one man challenges another by giving him four little sticks like matches. The latter individual stands at one side of one of the hoops, placing the four little sticks on the floor beside him. Each of these men has one of the lances. The first man throws his weapon at the little hoop and if it goes through the hoop, one of the little sticks is put aside to record the fortunate throw. Then the second man throws at the opposite hoop and if he also is lucky, he puts another of the little marking sticks aside for himself. The first man then tries again using the lance thrown by the second. This process continues until one man has put a lance through a hoop twice. When this has been accomplished, the other man must go out and bring food to the kashim. Another man takes the loser’s place and the game starts over again, thus con¬ tinuing until as many as wish to have had their chance. Sometimes a man may grab

118

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

his female cousin and thus persuade her to play. The women are often as successful as the men. This ceremonial game may continue all afternoon after which the food which the losers have brought in is passed around. Then the lamps are lighted and the black mask dancers come in for their inevitable contribution at the end of the day which concludes with supper. Tenth night: 2nd for 4th corner. Nothing of a ceremonial nature is said to take place on this evening although sometimes a fire may be made. This is unlikely, however, because of the labor required to clean out the fireplace again for the continuing ceremony. Nothing unusual happens in the morning, but in the afternoon a man may come in with a wood knife which he has made. The knife is a great big one about four feet long with the handle and the back of the blade painted red. The owner wears no mask and pretends that he comes from another village to sell this knife. One fellow goes and looks at it concluding, “A fine knife. I guess I’ll try to buy it.” Then everyone looks at it. Finally one fellow goes and grabs some caribou skin bedding and clothes and piles them up on the floor saying, “Here, I’ll pay this much.” The property is not his, but that makes no difference. The knife seller measures the pile with his knife. “Not enough,” he says. The man who had brought out the material puts it all back while another brings some other objects. The second pile is even smaller than the first just to make the situation more ridiculous. Again the knife owner refuses, and other fellows try to persuade him with what they have to offer, some insisting, “I’ve not a single skin left in my cache!” At last someone builds up a pile of material level with the height of the wood knife when standing on end. The trader finally accepts saying, “All right, I guess I’ll potlatch with this,” whereupon he distributes all the old junk which he has accepted. When the knife trader leaves the kashim, this material is returned to its owners, but the man who accumulated it retains the big wood knife as a souvenir. At the end of the day the black masks dance as usual after which the people eat supper. Eleventh night: 1st for door. After supper is over, a man removes the “middle” piece from the fourth corner and, after making the customary and proper move¬ ments, inserts the stick into the wall directly above the door. There is no ceremonial performance during the evening, neither singing nor dancing. Indeed, the extension of time to four nights for the door serves primarily as a rest period preceding the principal, or fourteenth, night of the animal’s ceremony. Morning passes as usual with the people collecting wood and engaging in other necessary chores. Sooner or later, however, the big black mask goes to the house next to the kashim with two other men who will wear variable masks in order to represent an old woman and her granddaughter in the performance which is to follow.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

119

At an appropriate time, the big black mask enters the kashim through the door and dances around, gesturing as though he were wishing to embrace someone. “Oh, you are going to take a woman. You are getting old enough now,” yells an onlooker. The big black mask hides under the bench. Then the old woman mask comes into the kashim. She is dressed for the part and carries a basket and a rabbit skin robe. She walks to the first corner and coughs as an old woman often coughs. She is followed shortly afterward by the granddaughter mask who goes to the same corner. The old woman mask acts as though she were going to bed. Someone throws her a caribou skin which she spreads on the floor and then she lies down on it with the girl. The onlookers tell the big black mask that the women have gone to bed. The latter comes out from under the bench and makes slow steps toward the corner where the women are lying, stopping and listening on the way just as a young man does who surreptitiously calls upon a girl in the night. The onlookers tell him that the women are sleeping. He goes to the bed and touches the young girl lightly. “That’s the one,” he is encouraged by someone in the audience. He steps back and listens. Then he returns and making a mistake, lies down beside the old woman. He puts an arm and leg over her. “Keep still a little while. Think what you are going to do. Don’t be too rough,” the audience advises. Pretty soon he pushes the old woman and she begins to cough as an old woman coughs. The big black mask runs pretending that he is escaping from the women’s house. “You’ve made a mistake,” say the onlookers. The old woman shakes herself, “Who wakes me up? What’s the matter with those boys? They won’t leave the girls alone!” She pretends it is morning and gets up to make the breakfast fire. The second act presumes that another day has passed. The big black mask is under the bench again, this location representing a kashim. The old woman and her granddaughter lie down in the second corner preparatory to the night’s rest. Pretty soon someone says, “It’s time to try again.” The big black mask comes out from under the bench and listens as at the en¬ trance door of a house. He approaches the women and this time the granddaughter has a blanket covering her as well as the old woman. The big black mask touches them again. “Don’t make a mistake. That’s the one!” The old woman mask wakes up and coughs. “Why don’t you sleep with the girl before her mother starts to cough? After the mother coughs she won’t go back to sleep any more.” The big black mask stands still. “Why don’t you make medicine so she will go to sleep?” At this advice he creeps over to the old woman and blowing on his hands slowly,

120

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

spreads his breath over the old woman with his palms. While he is doing this, the girl sneaks underneath the bench. “Now that you have given her some good medicine, you will have plenty of time.” He listens to the old woman breathing deeply; then he feels for the young girl, but there is nobody there. He stands for a minute pondering the situation. Then he feels everywhere and finds nothing. He is completely frustrated. “The old woman knows. That’s why she hides her grandchild. If I were in your place I’d slap the old woman and run out.” The big black mask goes slowly up to the old woman mask and slaps her in the face. Then he runs away. The old woman screams, “Why did you slap my face granddaughter? Why don’t you sleep further away from me?” Waking up completely she finds some sticks and hits the girl with them, after which, it being morning apparently, she builds a fire as before. Another day has passed and the third act begins in the third corner where, before they go to sleep, the old woman mask tells the girl, “Sleep away from me. I don’t want to be slapped again.” As the old woman goes to her rest she takes off her parka which the girl picks up and puts on. In a few minutes the big black mask comes out from underneath the bench again. “You get fooled all the time. Don’t make any mistakes tonight,” he is advised. The big black mask moves toward the women slowly. “You certainly take a long time,” comments an onlooker as the black mask touches the girl under the blanket in his efforts at identification. He continues cautiously because, having made so many mistakes, he is uncertain. “Smell her breath. Put your nose in her mouth,” says someone with the common assumption that an old woman’s breath smells differently from a young one’s. The black mask goes to the young woman first. “That’s the old woman. Smell the other one!” The black mask then moves around to the side of the old woman. “Take that one. That’s right.” He stands thinking how to lie down with her. “Feel her behind. Take her pants down and sleep with her. She won’t wake up any more!” The onlookers are excited and continue to offer obvious suggestions. The big black mask pushes up the sleeves of his parka and continues feeling the old woman. Then he pulls her trousers down and loosens his own. The old woman wakes up and discovers that her trousers have been pulled down, whereupon she yells and attempts to catch her attacker. The big black mask breaks away but does not know which way to go, bumping into the wall while the old woman pretends to light the lamp. Finally her assailant escapes under the bench. “What’s the matter with that fellow? He bothers me every night,” the old woman says to her granddaughter. “Did you tell him to come here?” The girl simply hangs her head and says nothing. They proceed with the build¬ ing of the fire as usual.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

121

The opening of the last act occurs when the two females prepare to go to bed in the fourth corner. The old woman says, “If that fellow comes in again, I am going to get sticks and hit him.” At this suggestion people in the audience throw her a number of sticks. Then the women go to bed. The big black mask comes out once again feeling his head which had been bumped in the struggles of the night before. He listens to hear if anyone is awake. “Try again. This time you are going to get her. Success always results on the fourth night.” He goes up and touches the women. “Smell their blankets too.” He smells the blankets. In this manner he locates the young girl and as he prepares to sleep with her, the onlookers tell him, “Hold her tight even if she screams and bites you.” Then he lies down beside her. The grandmother wakes up and goes to urinate in her urine basket, scratching it to imitate the sound. Afterward she puts the basket beside her and lies down again. “Now get up slowly,” someone suggests, “and listen if the old woman is sleeping.” The black mask raises his head and listens. Then he lies down again and grabs the girl, who screams. The old woman wakes up and tries to pull him off the girl but cannot. She hits him with sticks, but he hangs on for a while. Finally he lets go. The girl jumps over to the other side of the grandmother. The big black mask’s trousers, which are loose, fall down in fighting with the old woman whose trousers are also dragging. While the conflict rages the young girl runs out, actually leaving the kashim. The old woman hits the big black mask until he is laid out on the floor. Then she picks up her urine basket and also leaves the kashim. “You didn’t get the girl and nothing but a licking. Put on medicine for yourself.” The big black mask makes the motions and jumps up well. Then he dances around the kashim as he did when he first entered and finally goes out. For the first time, the big black mask and the little black mask do not put on their regular dance before supper. Twelfth night: 2nd for door. After supper, again there is neither singing nor danc¬ ing, for the people are content to rest. The next morning passes as usual, but in the afternoon the black masks appear in the kashim, each wearing a belt to which innumerable fish tails have been tied with little pieces of willows. “Are you going to potlatch with fish backbones?” someone asks. The black masks jump around the kashim after which they sit on the floor at each side of the fireplace pulling off the fish tails around their waists. Each dancer makes a pile of fishtails after which he passes around tiny pieces to everyone. The big black mask precedes, followed by the little black mask. At the first distribution perhaps two or three people do not get any fish tails. “How many fish have you?” says the big black mask to the little one. Then the latter passes around his fish and everyone receives a piece that time. When the distribution is over, the black masks jump around the kashim again finally leaving in the usual order.

122

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

When the black masks have gone, the men in the kashim go out and bring in dry fish by the armfuls, five to ten at a time. These fish make a big pile in the kashim. When everyone has brought in his dry fish, this food is distributed to all the people in the kashim. If there are not enough dry fish, some will be cut in half. The recipients may eat as much as they please and keep the remainder for future use. Once again there is no regular dance with the black masks crying “Waa.” Thirteenth night: 3rd for door. After supper the people rest, for there are no dances or songs until the last night of the period during which the “middle” piece sticks out above the door. The next morning when the people have breakfast, the spirit of unusual activity is in the air. As the day proceeds, all the boys who have planned to dance with the ordinary variable masks go back of the kashim to get them and then carry them to the house used as a dressing room. The black mask brothers go there too. Someone else brings the funny face mask. One man has made a great big wood knife, the second of the animal’s ceremony. When the men and women attending the celebration are all inside the kashim, the various masked dancers fine up outside the entrance door. The big black mask goes in first followed by his younger brother, the little black mask. They start jumping around. “What are you going to do?” someone asks. They make the motion of beating a drum. “Oh, you are going to dance!” The black masks sit down at the corners nearer the door and the funny face mask comes in carrying the big knife. “Oh, this is the boss of the dance,” an onlooker says, as the funny face sits down in the middle of the rear of the floor. Then the black masks are each given one of the sticks which support the cere¬ monial hoop. Each breaks his stick and starts to dance while seated, pretending at the same time to be beating a drum. While this goes on, the funny face mask wields his big knife with one hand as though leading the orchestra. No one is sing¬ ing. At this point, the first of the variable masks enters and begins to dance with his hands in the air. The next variable mask soon follows dancing on the opposite side of the fireplace. Each performer may demonstrate his skill as long as he wishes. After the second variable mask enters and has danced, then the man preceding him dances a second time. When he is satisfied, he goes out and the third man comes in to take his place. In this fashion the dancing of the variable masks continues until all have had a double opportunity to display their skill. At the end, the funny face mask leaves the kashim without having danced at all. Finally the big black masks get up from their seats in the corners, jump around, and then go out in an order so regular that the first one is referred to by the people as “the old one who leads his younger brother.”

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

123

By this time everyone is excited for they know that the great evening is ahead. People have been arriving all day from other villages in anticipation of the long night to come. Just before supper the big black mask and the little black mask make their familiar dance and cry of “Waa” to herald the last night of the ani¬ mal’s ceremony. Fourteenth night: 1+th for door. For the last and great night of the animal’s cere¬ mony everyone attending dresses in new clothes. The evening begins with the ceremonial eating of “ice cream” which is theoretically prepared by men for this occasion. Actually an old woman past menstrual age may make the “ice cream” for her son. In any event, once a man has his dish full of “ice cream” he decorates it by erecting at one side on top of the food a small model of a snare or deadfall. The particular type of these constructions made by each man is determined by asking his father what kind of animal his grandfather most frequently caught. In addition to the model deadfall or snare, a small clay lamp about three inches in diameter or less is put in the center of the “ice cream.” When the food bowls have been prepared, wives go to the kashim with their husbands or preferably with their sons in which case the husbands go alone. Each man takes his regular seat with his back to the wall. The accompanying woman sits facing him with a food bowl between them. Everyone in the kashim is seated. "When all are settled, a man speaks out that it is time to take a little “ice cream.” Each person adjacent to a bowl scoops out a tiny bit on the ends of two fingers and tastes the “ice cream,” after which dishes are passed around among all the people including those seated on the bench as well as those seated on the floor. As the “ice cream” gradually disappears, the burning clay lamps as well as the model snares and deadfalls are pushed to one side of the bowl. When all the “ice cream” has been eaten, the bowls with their decorations are taken home, after which the people return to the kashim. In so doing, everyone is allowed some free time for movement. The next act of the evening takes place when some man says, “Make a water hole and bring up water.” Two men who wish to do this go out from the kashim to obtain the necessary equipment. One brings back an ice chisel and an ice scoop while the other brings in a large wood bowl about three feet long and also a fourfoot pole. This pole is fastened to the top of the large bowl along its lengthwise axis so that two men may use it as a carrying pole. The two men then go out with their equipment and cut a hole for water through the river ice. In the meanwhile a group of boys between ten and twelve years old who antici¬ pate the procedure to follow gather inside the entryway door of the kashim. They are told that as soon as the two men come back carrying the big bowl of water, they are to run to the water hole, put their fingers in the river, lick them, and then run back to see who will be the first to reach the kashim. The boys run as fast as they can to the water hole and, carrying out the instructions, race back to the kashim. Everyone in the kashim takes a mouthful of water from the big bowl, an act which will bring them luck. Afterward little water remains.

124

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

With the bowl in the middle of the floor, the boys who have raced to the water hole are told to take a bath, whereupon they all pull up their sleeves and rush for the big bowl. In this process they pile on top of it, tip it over, and enjoy a general roughhouse until all the water is gone. After this there is a short period to quiet down. The next event begins when a man brings a canoe paddle into the kashim and gives it to one of the little boys and tells him to run to the water hole and dip the end of the paddle into the river a little and then to run back as fast as he can. “See how high I can count while you are gone.” The man counts slowly until the boy returns. Then another youngster is given a chance, and the man counts again to see which is the faster. Each boy has an opportunity to run. When this second competition has been concluded, there is another opportunity for things to quiet down. Then two young men remove the seven bundles of cere¬ monial plants, one of which has been tied up in each of the four corners of the kashim and attached to the pair of side pieces and to the “middle” piece. Making a pair of torches out of the plants, each of the two young men lights the end of one so that they smoke. With these smoking bundles they smudge the three cere¬ monial pieces previously mentioned and then hit the laps of the men seated on the benches and then strike the younger men all over who are under the benches and on the floor. By this time the kashim is full of smoke and the smoke hole cover is pulled part way off until the room has been aired, some of the people escaping through the door in the meantime. Once again after a brief interval everybody comes into the kashim prepared to sing, but the song leader is missing. “Go get the song leader,” someone says. “What’s the matter?” another cries. “He doesn’t want to come. He wants to go to bed,” says a third. “I know what he wants. He wants to get paid,” and so the repartee continues. “I don’t blame him. Give him something.” Finally perhaps fifteen people go out and each returns with some kind of present as a contribution to the song leader who then dresses up and comes into the kashim. With this matter decided, the red male mask and the red female go to the adjoin¬ ing house, which has been used throughout the ceremony for a dressing room, to prepare themselves for the dances to come. In due time the red female is sent into the kashim to receive instructions from the song leader. The latter states that they are to give the dance of the fishes and that he will sing three songs during the first of which they are to stay in the tunnel. The red female mask returns to the dressing room and the dancers pick up the paraphernalia which they have made. Each construction consists of a stick as long as a man is broad on to the ends of which have been loosely fastened two other sticks of arm’s length. From each of these three pieces hang six-inch sections of root, painted red in the middle and with bunches of feathers on the end. These constructions, prepared previously, required about an hour and a half to build.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

125

Taking their symbolic fish with them, the red masks go into the tunnel. At the predetermined time, the red male mask rises out of the fireplace and proceeds to the corner which is at the right of the door as he faces it. The red female follows, going to the left corner. While the song leader and everyone sing the song of the fishes, the red masks dance, waving their arms while holding on to the end of the secondary sticks so that the primary pieces are braced against their chests. The song of the fishes is sung four times while the dancers move their arms like branches of a tree in the wind. At the end of the fourth singing, everyone rushes to the dancers and tries to grasp the symbolic fish made of paint-banded roots. The red masks, however, fold up their arms and try to save their fish. Some people get one or two pieces, an achievement which is considered lucky, while some get none. The red masks then retire from the kashim. After a little while the red female mask is again sent in to ask the song leader what is next on the program. Having been told, the message is conveyed to the red male mask who manufactures four little whitefish out of wood. These are not decorated, but are each tied by a string to its own wedge, so cut as to fit tightly into the mouth of the red male mask. The red masks go into the tunnel and at the appropriate time in the singing, the red male rises up from the fireplace and dances on his knees before it while the song leader sings and one drum is beating. When the song leader sings the hawk song, the red male mask leans over the fire hole. While he does so, the red female mask sticks a wedge in his mouth with the little wood whitefish attached. The red male mask raises himself, drawing the fish upward. He dances with a slow twist of the head until finally a jerk sends the fish flying into the room. Some¬ one picks it up and places it beside the dancer. The same song and gestures are repeated until all four of the whitefish have been drawn out of the fire hole. The red male mask then picks them up and, on leaving the kashim, places them with pre¬ vious dance paraphernalia on top of the entryway. By the time the dance of the fishes is over, the middle of the night is approach¬ ing, a time when the people at the ceremony usually seek their rest. Not on this night, however, for the feast goes on and on. Shortly after the red masks have retired, the big black mask appears in the fire hole. The song leader seeing him says, “That’s fine. I get a rest,” and he may pro¬ ceed to enjoy a little food. The big black mask, as usual, cries, “Waa” as he comes up on the floor and jumps around in a sort of dance. He has two dry fish tied to his belt on either side. After dancing a while he falls down and someone says, “What’s the matter with you, sleepy. Have you got any fish?” The black mask pretends to eat his fish and then throws the four pieces away. Some of the boys immediately grab the dry fish and eat them. Finally the black mask starts jumping around again and with the cry of “Waa,” which is supposed to scare the people, he leaves the kashim.

126

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Following this diversion, one of the red masks goes to the song leader to see what is next on the program. The latter gives his instructions as usual, and in their dressing room each red mask prepares a light hoop of wood about six inches in diameter having two cross pieces with a hole through them in the center. Splotches of red paint and some feathers are added for decoration. The hoops are then threaded on a long but light line with a knot in the end. This construction is called “slide up and down” and is simply a toy of the red masks (Fig. 17, top center). At the proper time the red male mask enters the tunnel while the red female goes up on top of the kashim carrying the pair of hoops on the line. Then at the correct moment in the series of songs, the red male mask rises from the fireplace while the red female lowers the hoops to him through the fire hole, tying the end of the line so as to be free to wait in the entryway where it is warmer during the main part of the performance. The red male mask with the pair of hoops in his hands carries them into the corner at the right of the door. There, holding tightly to the bottom one, he slides the other up and down the line four times. He does this by holding the line between his fingers and somehow spinning the hoop as he pushes it upward. This action he repeats four times in each corner of the kashim, after which, each person in the audience may do likewise. When the red male mask has left the kashim, the red female climbs up on the cold roof again and pulls up the line with the hoops. These are then deposited on top of the entryway beside the other ceremonial parapher¬ nalia which have been previously utilized. After a short rest period in the dressing room the red female mask is sent into the kashim to consult with the song leader. There is the usual period of prepara¬ tion and then the red masks both enter the tunnel of the kashim. Each is nude except for masks, trousers, and boots, and each is tied to the other about six feet apart with a line which is fastened around their waists. The red male mask also carries a miniature paddle with four bands of red on the blade and three encircling the handle (Fig. 17, top right). With one drum beating as the proper song is sung, the red male mask rises from the fireplace and kneels down beside it, performing a dance in mimicry of a man who is paddling a canoe. When finished, the red male mask moves around the fireplace pulling his partner out of it. When the red female is on the floor, he touches her with a paddle at each corner of the kashim as she follows after him. The red female also touches the paddle at each corner except the last one when it is presumed that she has died. This symbolic dance is, of course, only properly understood when one is familiar with the legend on which it is based. Having finished with their dance, the red masks leave the kashim, the singing stops, and the people relax for a little while. Again the red mask performers ask for instructions from the song leader. “Have you the marten skins?” “Yes,” is the answer. Then he tells the number of songs that he is about to sing and reviews the pro¬ cedure briefly.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

127

Once more the red male mask enters the tunnel and comes out of the fire hole while the red female on the roof of the kashim lowers a marten skin stuffed with grass until it is about even with the hips of the red male mask who is dancing in¬ side while the songs are being sung. As with the ceremonial hoops, the red male mask draws the stuffed marten toward each corner, slipping it under his parka four times while in each. When he has finished the fourfold round of corners, each person in the kashim may copy his procedure in turn. When all are satisfied, the red male mask leaves the kashim, the red female withdraws the stuffed marten through the smoke hole, and the act is over. The marten skin, however, is not left on top of the entryway as some animal might carry it off. Once more after a rest period there is another enactment of a legend. Having received their instructions from the song leader, the red male enters carrying a real bow and arrow while his partner brings a stuffed parka, a single arrow, and a piece of skin covered with red paint. As the singing proceeds, the red male mask comes out and goes to a position in front of the door facing the fireplace from which suddenly rises the red female mask. Close inspection, however, would show that the figure is only a straw dummy, clothed in the parka and red mask of the original. The red female mask dummy rocks four times toward each corner in turn. As it does so, the red male mask pretends to shoot at it with his weapon. On the fourth bow of the dummy toward the fourth corner, the red male actually does so and the simulated red female, struck with the arrow, falls into the fire hole. The dummy is no sooner down, however, than the real red female rises wearing the red mask and holding an arrow to the nude upper part of the body on which red paint has been smeared and which is quite indistinguishable from blood in the dim light of the kashim. This dance of the “murder of the woman” has dramatic meaning to the audience for the legend on which it is based has been told during periods of leisure in the previous days of the ceremony. The audience consequently knows that at a time when the red mask and his wife, whom the performers represent, were younger they had trouble because of another woman who had grown fond of the red male. The red female was resentful and quarreled with the intruder. The red male liked the other woman a little, however, and became angry at his wife for making the situation obvious. He went off hunting and on his return at nightfall the woman who liked him was waiting along the trail. Still irritated over the developments which had occurred, he thought the woman following him surreptitiously was his wife and becoming infuriated he shot her with his bow and arrow. Not until he entered his home did he realize what he had done. The red masks, worn out from the performances which have lasted all during the night, leave the kashim. After disposing of their masks and adjusting their cos¬ tumes, they return to the kashim and sit down any where in order to rest and enjoy themselves. It is already daytime. Various men who have been practicing a dance with the funny face mask at odd moments outside the kashim decide among themselves which one plays the part best. The funny face mask is expected to act like a mad

128

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

man and to achieve the unusual in humorous effects. Once determined, the man who will take the role of the funny face dancer joins the big black mask in prep¬ aration for their performance together. Inside the kashim all the people move up onto the benches in order to give them plenty of room. The big black mask jumps from the fire hole with his cry of “Waa” and begins a strange dance, swinging his arms between his legs, one from the front and the other from behind. Everyone is singing the song that accompanies this part of the ceremony but no drums are beaten. “What are you going to do?” cries someone, and the big black mask is given a stick which he breaks into “drumsticks” and beats between his legs while stamping on the floor with one foot. Then out of the fireplace comes the funny face mask wearing a large pair of fish skin over trousers, the extra spaces in which are stuck with various materials to create a grotesque appearance. The funny face mask is carrying a great wood maul with which he goes after the big black mask and raising the maul over his head, he attempts to bring down a mortal blow. The black mask is continuously on the verge of being killed, but somehow escapes under the benches in which area he is sought out by the funny face mask. In the interval between blows, each of the performers dances and then the funny face swings at the black mask again. If this is a low form of comedy, it nonetheless pleases the people of the audience who become hilarious over the results. Finally the funny face mask seems to suc¬ ceed in killing the black mask dancer who lies down pretending he has been hit. The funny face mask then performs his finest dance in which he displays great pride in his successful accomplishment. Afterward he disappears through the fire hole. The big black mask lies quiet for a while, glad for a rest after his extreme exer¬ tion. Some of the onlookers cry to him. “You are all torn. Make some medicine for yourself.” He looks at his ripped clothing and pretends to make an incantation, blowing four times in his hands and rubbing himself all over. Then he jumps up and dances around to show that he has recovered, finally giving the cry of “Waa” and leaving the kashim. The time has arrived at last for the performance of the sharp nose mask. The man who is to play the part follows the big black mask out of the kashim to arrange their paraphernalia. In the meantime, everyone inside the kashim proceeds to take down the sticks with the carved ends extending from the walls toward the center of the hoop which still remains in its regular position supported by lines. The side pieces and the “middle” piece are also removed and placed on the cover boards of the fireplace. Each person takes a carved stick and, holding it with one end pointing toward the fireplace, rocks it back and forth in the air over his head. Two bends of the knees are made at the end of each arc in time with the drums. While the people are doing this, they sing a special song which is essentially the repetition of the name of the

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

129

funny face mask. Then all the people sit down facing the fireplace, beating the floor with the carved sticks while they sing a second song. This done, they finish the ceremony by putting ail of the carved sticks into the fire hole. Outside the kashim talking can soon be heard. The sharp nose mask is scream¬ ing and beating on the roof at the same time. After a while he takes off the smoke hole cover and puts his head into the opening making funny remarks about miss¬ ing the end of the party because he went to sleep and slept for two days. Then he takes a long willow pole with a part of a branch left on the end as a hook and, in¬ serting it through the smoke hole, starts to pull out the ceremonial hoop to which all the men immediately rush and hold on. In a short time the ceremonial hoop is broken into bits. The sharp nose mask may get a piece or two, whereupon he says, “I was going to have the whole thing. You fellows make me mad. I’m going home to get my adze and chop the kashim to pieces.” Then he runs away screaming. While he is gone, the red male mask enters the kashim through the door carrying an adze and sits down with it on the floor in back of the fireplace. Soon the sharp nose mask is heard approaching. He always makes a lot of noise. When he climbs up on the roof of the kashim he beats on it with a big stick, an action which represents his use of the adze. The sharp nose mask is consistently associated with yelling or talking and chopping with his adze at the same time. He puts his head into the smoke hole again. “I’ll see how the people are,” he announces and then adds, “I guess I’ll chop the kashim down.” He pretends that he has lost his adze and becomes terribly mad, hitting the smoke hole frame with his hands. “Somebody took my adze. If I find him there will be trouble,” whereupon he runs all around outside the kashim. Inside the kashim, the red male mask hits the floor with the adze which he has brought in. This brings the sharp nose mask running up to the smoke hole again. “That’s what I thought. Somebody took my adze. If you don’t throw me that adze up here I’ll kill you,” then as if by second thought, “If you do I’ll pay you.” The red male mask goes to the edge of the fireplace and makes the motion of throwing up the adze. The sharp nose mask acts as though the adze had been thrown and runs around the kashim roof trying to find it, talking to himself in a loud voice all the time. Then the red male mask pounds on the floor again and the sharp nose rushes back to the smoke hole crying, “Oh, he fooled me!” The red male mask makes two or four swings with his adze in every corner and on the last swing for the fourth corner, he really throws the adze out through the smoke hole. The sharp nose mask picks it up and muttering funny remarks to himself, goes away. The red male mask then leaves the kashim, thus ending this performance in which there has been neither singing nor dancing. After about a quarter of an hour, the song leader requests that men get their drums. Perhaps three are tightened for playing and one song is sung with their

130

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

accompaniment. Then the red male mask comes into the kashim with a bundle of caribou skins on his back and carrying a bow and arrow. This equipment represents his return from a successful hunt. He dances a little, turning his whole body from side to side. Then he goes to each corner in turn, standing there with the end of his bow resting on the floor in front of him. In each corner he cries once, “Wo-o-o.” Then someone on the bench answers softly like an echo. After calling at the fourth corner the red male mask leaves the kashim. The onlookers will recognize the meaning of this performance since their mem¬ ories will have been recently refreshed by the telling of the legend which explains it. This simple story is that of a man who, when he was going to hunt for caribou, was requested by his wife to allow her to accompany him, but he refused. When he returned home from his hunting he discovered that his wife had gone out and, by observing her trail, perceived that she had started out in an attempt to follow him but had become lost. The hunter followed his wife’s trail, but soon it became dark and he could see it no longer. Then he cried out, “Wo-o-o” four times. Listen¬ ing, he could hear someone answer faintly as though far away. He struggled on, but at last he became exhausted and gave up the search. When he returned home he turned into one of the people whom the red mask dancers represent. At the conclusion of the dance about the missing wife who echoed her husband’s cries, some of the younger men take the two side pieces, the “middle” piece, and all the masks except that of the big black mask dancer and return them to their hiding place under a spruce tree in the woods. The big black mask is simply left hanging behind the kashim. Some others among the men take all the sticks with the carved ends from the fire hole and haul them up the river about a hundred yards. There they deposit them in the river or, if as usual it is wintertime, they merely stand them erect in the snow at intervals all across the frozen stream to be carried away when the ice goes out. This, as everyone knows, attracts more fish to come swimming up the river. By this time it is almost evening. The big black mask, after the others have all returned to the kashim, puts his head inside the door and looks around. “Everyone is gone. You are left behind,” he says. Then he drums on the floor underneath the bench just inside the entrance with both hands at the same time. This action corresponds to the use of his feet in former dances at the end of a ceremonial night and day. When finished with his little ceremony he goes out again. This ultimate performance of the black male mask is repeated at the end of the three following afternoons irrespective of whether or not any other activities con¬ nected with the animal’s ceremony continue. Fifteenth night: 1st of sequel. After the long stretch of festivities lasting twentyfour hours from the beginning of the fourteenth night, performers and onlookers are exhausted. No food is brought into the kashim and everyone goes to sleep. About midnight, however, all the younger people go out of the kashim and walk around the village until daybreak.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

131

This activity is undertaken because it is believed that twice during the period of the animal’s ceremony—and no one knows when—all the animals come to the kashim because the ceremony has made it seem like home to them, just as ducks come to a nesting lake, to use an Indian simile. The animals, however, see that there is some difference and after visiting twice, go away. Each time that the ani¬ mals come they make a noise like ice rattling in water. Anyone who is walking around the village and who hears this sound will be lucky. Since it can only be heard between midnight and dawn, the younger people walk with this chance in mind. After the day has fully come, some man brings a sea lion skin into the kashim and puts it on the floor. Some others furnish babiche lines which they tie to the corners of the stretched out skin and then to the heavy logs at the four corners of the kashim ceiling so that the sea lion skin is suspended about four feet off the floor above the fireplace over which the cover boards have now been replaced. Then everyone comes into the kashim and men surround the skin to hold onto its edges. The men who do this are all wearing women’s ceremonial hats of combined caribou and mink skins which the men have borrowed from wives, mothers, or some other woman in their family who has obtained the hat as a symbol of an inherited privi¬ lege. These men shake the sea lion skin slowly up and down, singing while they do so. Then the man who has played the role of the red male mask is called. He comes and climbs onto the skin and attempts to jump up and down. As the surrounding men toss him again and again into the air, he becomes less able to stand and is finally allowed to remove himself. Following the red male mask, as many individuals as wish may try to jump up and down while being bounced on the sea lion skin. There is no story about this activity, but the performance is known to be one way of calling all the animals to the village in which it is performed. During this day old men will give their animal “songs” or incantations to any boy whose parents ask them for the favor. A man takes the boy outside the kashim and follows the usual pattern of transferring magical spells. Of course no chopping or cutting may be performed that day by the boy who received medicine, or death will result for the donor. Such transferences of power, however, may be effective only for one or two days. The Indians say the situation is the same as when you go into a smoke house. Your clothes will certainly smell of the smoke, but on the following day if you stay outside, the smell will be less strong—like the luck. The sea lion skin in which men have been bounced is allowed to remain stretched above the fireplace for some time after the jumping is over. At last a shaman enters into the procedure. He goes to every corner of the kashim and makes medicine using a different animal’s power in each. Then someone unties the lines supporting the sea lion skin and it is placed on the fire hole cover with the lines still stretched out toward the corners. The shaman sits on top of it and is covered over with a parka serving to conceal his actions which include the making of many kinds of animal noises. He does this so that he will be able to tell the people whether the animal’s ceremony has been a lucky one.

3 32

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

After he is through making medicine, he uncovers himself and reports to the people that he has been, to the animal’s country and has seen some of them Math snares, some with arrows, some wnfch deadfalls, as well as fish with traps. This is, of course, a very fortunate implication that the animals will make themselves available through the media of these implements by vdiich men catch them. The shaman’s talk may go on for an hour. When the shaman is through, the man who owns the sea lion skin rolls it up and takes it home. As evening comes, the big black mask repeats his symbolic dance, beating on the floor underneath the bench near the door with Ins hands. His action is thought to represent the longing of the celebrants for continuation of the animal s ceremony. After the big back mask retires, the women go to their homes but soon return to the kashim, gathering at the entry way, each with some small present such as a little bag or a pair of fish skin insoles. All of these gifts are put into a large wood bowl and carried into the kashim, there to be placed in the middle of the floor Then the women, one by one, call out to a man of their choice, “You go and get yours.” The man steps up to the bowl and takes what he likes in the way of a gift. "When each woman has called a man and all the gifts have been disposed of, the women go and look at them to see whether the men have taken the gifts made by the woman who called. Obviously, fevr have done so, but those who have not only laugh in consequence. The women take back all the presents and carry them to a near-by house M'here they are separated and restored to the makers. Then the woman gives her present to the mother of the man for which it has been intended and tells the mother to give it to him. The distribution of gifts at this time is never made to a husband, although married women participate in the activity along with unmarried girls. After the women have given their presents to the men’s mothers, the former return to the kashim bringing dishes of “ice cream.” Each gives her dish to the same man who was the recipient of her gift taken from the large bowl. The men eat a little of the “ice cream” from the dishes, which the girls then carry to the houses of the men and give to their mothers who may well eat the rest of the con¬ tents. The women return to the kashim where they sit down. It is then the turn of the men to go outside the kashim, which they do, returning Math wood spoons, shovels, dishes, snowshoes, or other objects which they hand directly to the woman from whom they have just previously received a gift and “ice cream.” Then all the girls leave the kashim. “Skin thimble” is the literal name of this ceremonial exchange. Sixteenth night: 2nd of sequel. After supper a group of about fifteen boys and young men tie their belts on outside of their parkas and proceed to make the rounds of the houses in the village. As expected, there are one or more large bowls of cut up dry fish on the floor, each provided by one family in the house. What the boys and young men do not eat, they stuff into the necks of their parkas where the dry fish are prevented from falling out at the bottoms by the belts around their waists.

OSGOOD:XNGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

133

After visiting every house the young men return to the kashirn and, standing in the middle of the floor, untie the restricting belts, allowing the fish to drop around them. These pieces of dry fish are distributed among the people in the kashirn. This food-contributing performance which starts on the sixteenth night continues on successive days until the cycle of four collections has been made. Before the young men go to sleep for the night, they bring in some strong babiche line which they place under a bench. Early the next morning a group of young women carry a large log into the entry¬ way of the kashirn. The young men immediately tie their babiche line to one end while the girls tie another babiche line to the other end. Then a tug-of-war takes place, with men and women yelling and screaming for perhaps an hour. Men say that if the girls do not win, they go away angry, but if the girls win, the boys do not care. After the first tug-of-war is over, the girls bring a pole about twelve feet long into the building, holding onto the butt or large end at one side of the kashirn. The boys then take the small end and a second tug-of-war takes place. When it is over, they all go outside. The next act occurs when some person goes around and collects all the young men’s snowshoes that he can find. Boys who know that they cannot win in the com¬ petition to follow may hide their snowshoes and thus avoid competing. The snowshoes which are found are pulled through the tunnel into the kashirn. Then each man must identify his own and proceed to the river ice at a point determined by an old man who leads them. Needless to say, this activity can only occur when the ceremony is given during the winter, as it normally is. At a given signal, men start running toward the village, slowly at first and keep¬ ing together. Then men on the bank yell, “yi-yi-yi.”4 As the men yell, the runners move faster. As the contestants approach closer to the village, the spectators yell the same cry again and the boys run as hard as they can in the attempt to win the race. It should be mentioned that no women are allowed to watch this competition for if a boy should be seen in the process by a woman, he would be unable to run any more. After the race is over, the competitors go into the kashirn and their mothers give them one mouthful of water to drink as they cool off from their exertion. Fully grown men as well as young boys compete in this ceremonial race. At the close of the afternoon, the big brother mask performs as he did on the previous day. Seventeenth night: 3rd of sequel. After dinner a wrestling match takes place be¬ ginning with smaller boys and gradually providing opportunity for all men who wish to participate from the weakest to the strongest. With the end of the wrestling match, the sequence of events which represents expenditure of energy following the animal’s ceremony may be said to have been concluded. There remain only the finishing of the four-day cycle of the big black 4 Rhymes with “sea.”

134

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

mask’s last presentation (after which he returns his mask to its hiding place with the others) and the completion of the four-night cycle in which boys and young men collect dry fish for the kashim. The Great Ceremonies: The Bladder Ceremony Introduction. The festival which the people call literally “bladder,” like the animal's ceremony, has as its primary purpose the increase of desirable animals, but is not considered much fun and is ranked last in the order of preference. It may take place at any time during the winter and occupy either one or two days. The performance is initiated by some man who has become interested in having it given. He must then persuade enough other men to obtain public approval. Essentially it is a man’s show, but women are inevitably involved in the distribu¬ tion of food. Once decided upon, the men who want to participate clean the bladders of various animals which they wish to propitiate. Female bladders are chosen be¬ cause they represent the reproductive sex. Those of caribou, bear, mink, otter, and fox are among the ones included. When the bladders have been cleaned, they are blown up and hung from a line stretched as high as possible across the back of the kashim. It is expected that each owner will put his own “medicine” on his bladder, which will make it dangerous for others to touch. Women, who must not approach the bladders, remain in the front of the kashim, and children are warned to keep out from underneath them. The ceremony. On the evening after the bladders have been hung up, the men of the village gather with the women who wish to attend. Special songs for the ceremony are sung to the accompaniment of drums, but there is no dancing during this festival. After a period of singing a man enters the kashim bearing a bowl in which are pieces of cut up fish. He passes this bowl under the bladders as though to offer them the food. When he has finished, the next man participating does the same thing. This procedure continues until each one who has blown up a bladder has brought in his ceremonial offering. Then the food is passed around among the people in the kashim who thus enjoy a feast. On the next morning, the feeding of the bladders takes place in the same manner as on the night before, the only difference being that “ice cream” takes the place of the fish. When this pleasant repast is over, the shaman is asked to discover the reaction of the animals involved. He sits down on the cover boards of the fire hole and makes medicine for a while. When satisfied he rises and, walking to the bladder which is perhaps that of a bear, taps it once and says, “I have seen this bear. He will come back all right.” Then he duplicates this performance, tapping each animal’s blad¬ der and making a similar prognostication. When the shaman has finished with his communications, the bladders are taken own and put away, some of the people having become more confident of their economic security in the months to come.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

135

The Great Ceremonies: The Doll Ceremony

Introduction. The doll ceremony occurs in the fall of the year and consequently may be the first festival of the winter series. The people do not consider it a cere¬ mony which provides amusement. The purpose is almost exclusively to hear the prognostication of the dolls which is arranged through the intermediation of a shaman. The performance involves only the people in the village in which it is given. Women take no part in the ceremony but may observe the performance. Although this festival is thought of as taking place once and only once during a year, sometimes it is not given at all. The doll ceremony is said to last four nights. Theoretically, the dolls are un¬ wrapped the first night, ceremonial songs continue to be sung on the second and third nights, and on the fourth night prognostications are made by the dolls. Actu¬ ally, one or both of the intervening nights may be eliminated to save time. Prep¬ arations for the performance are made during the first day and there is one day which may be regarded as a sequel. The paraphernalia. The equipment for the doll ceremony comprises two minia¬ ture human figures, one or two tables specially constructed to hold them, and a large hoop used as decoration. When the dolls wear out, they are remade by some old man who carves the heads and prepares the other parts while an old woman sews the costumes. The dolls are always in pairs, one male and one female, the former being indicated by labrets and the latter by tattooing. The heads are caived from spruce wood and painted red. The bodies of the dolls are fashioned from bunches of grass or sometimes of caribou hair, and dressed in clothing which is a copy of that worn by real people. The height of the dolls varies between seven and twelve inches. The male holds a miniature drum and drumsticks, the female nothing. To support the dolls, a table is made by fastening a flat piece of wood about nine inches wide and two and a half feet long on top of a post carved like a lamp stand. The post with an enlargement on the end is about four feet long, allowing one foot to be driven between the floor boards into the ground. Into the flat piece of wood on top, the makers peg two upright rods about eight inches high to which the dolls are tied. Sometimes one table is made for each doll. A hoop, made to decorate the ceiling of the kashim, is much like that used for the animal’s ceremony except that only one continuous piece is constructed. This is done, as before, by tying together six-foot lengths of split spruce poles. The single hoop is decorated with rings of paint about three feet apart and with intermittent bunches of ptarmigan feathers. The ceremony. Everyone talks about having the doll ceremony as soon as the snow has fallen at the end of the summer. There are perhaps five men in a village who know the songs. They come together and agree on a date for the performance. When the day comes, some man goes into the woods and brings back to the kashim the two dolls which have been hidden in the branches of a spruce tree. In the mean¬ time, other men have put together the sticks of the ceremonial hoop, decorated it, and suspended it from the corners of the ceiling. A ceremonial table has also been

136

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

prepared and set up to the rear of the regular lamp stand at the right side of tne kashim as one. enters. After supper, the dolls are unwrapped and examined to see what omens may be found. Special attention will be given to the male doll to see if a few fish, scales are present under the body. If so, this will indicate that fish will be plentiful, or if hair is present that there will be many animals. Signs of evil to come may also occur. Blood on the male doll's parka indicates a death. Scratches on his red face mean sickness for the people, and a little charcoal under the body foretells the peril of war. Omens also appear on unwrapping the female doll. A few dried berries, for example, will indicate that the fruit will be plentiful. After the dolls are tied on the stand, the men begin to sing the ceremonial songs. Women may listen only. Perhaps three songs are sung and then everyone leaves the kashim. The men return, however, bringing dry fish which they pass around among themselves and eat. Then they go to bed. Before retiring, a man who sleeps on the bench directly behind the male doll ties a light babiche line to the striking end of the drumstick which the doll holds, and then passes the line over the doll’s shoulder to the bench. Since the drumstick is made from the red-grained wood of a spruce tree, it has a springlike quality and will snap the drum when pulled by the line and released. This the man does peri¬ odically during the night, and the rest of the occupants are presumed not to know that the doll is not beating the drum himself. Contrari-wise, the doll is supposed to be making medicine to keep the people well and to increase the food supply. The one or two evenings following the commencement of the ceremony are de¬ voted to singing ceremonial songs after which the women leave and the men bring in “ice cream” or other food. Also, the male doll is made to beat on his miniature drum. The fourth night is like the previous ones except that the men have a gala feast and afterwards a shaman is asked to speak to the dolls to find out what they have to say. No women are present. The shaman takes someone’s old parka and holds it in front of the dolls. Pie shakes one edge of the parka so that it rustles, continuing this procedure for a long time. “They’re too far down,” he says, referring to the fact that the dolls are presumed to live beneath the ground under the kashim. He intrigues them some more, and after a while they begin to speak in a voice like a low whistle. When they do so. the sharnan puts out the lamp tnat is nearest them. The dolls talk a. long time and the shaman interprets. “One man, who when he walks in the woods feels pain, is going to be killed.” The repoxtfs continue, the shaman explaining about the fishing season to come until finally the male doll who does all the talking says, “No more ” This ends the ceremony itself and the men go to bed. The male doll continues to snap his drum during the night, however. The next morning, the two dolls are taken from the stands and wrapped up in the same shavings and birch bark from which they had been unwrapped four days prc viously. They are then hidden in the branches of a spruce tree where if a person

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

137

finds them by chance, he would turn away immediately to avoid a sickness in his eyes. The hoop is also taken down and broken up. The pieces are discarded with the ceremonial stands. That evening all the men gather in the kashim and sing two special songs, and finally food is brought in by both men and women. The legend. Since the doll ceremony is not very meaningful without a knowledge of the story which all of the Indians know, the tale will be told here. A very rich man once lived in a village. He had only one daughter and no sons. One day the little girl said to her mother, “Why don’t you make me a baby?” “You're not old enough to have a baby,” answered the mother laughing. The little girl pestered the mother until she made her a little man doll. The girl was completely delighted, and took her new acquisition to bed with her. At this time the father became even richer and the mother noticed the coincidence. Every year the little girl made new clothing for her doll. She also had a regular plate at mealtime for the doll and fed it. About two years later the girl was “in the comer,” as she had reached the onset of menstruation. One night she woke up and heard someone talking in her ear. “Mother, mother, two days more and the morning after there is going to be war in this place. All the people will be killed. Tell your parents to be ready to go away somewhere and hide. That’s all.” The next morning the girl told her mother and her mother told her husband. The parents could not imagine who had spoken to the girl. The girl, however, saw the doll and said, “My son, tell me right out if you talked to me last night.” “I told you,” the doll answered. The girl then told her mother and father, and the latter went to the kashim and told all the people. Some laughed and none paid any attention. This rich man, however, believed in the danger and found a cave under’some ice beside a cut bank and put food there. "When the time predicted had come, he and his family -went into the cave and hid. The doll was under the girl’s parka. It began to move. She took it out. “The enemy will find you here,” he said. “VYnen you hear them coming, let me go.” “What will you do? You have no arrow.” “I’ll do something.” Soon they heard fighting in the village and the screams of women. Then the enemy came looking for the rich man. “Maybe they’re in that place,” one of the searching parties said, noticing the opening in the ice. The girl took the doll from under her parka and held it up. It disappeared. Everyone -was quiet. After a while someone started to shovel away the snow. “Mother, don’t be afraid. It’s me.” A fine-looking boy was standing there with a spear and arrow in his hand, but he was running with blood. He had killed half of the enemy and put the rest to flight. It is this girl and her doll that are represented in the ceremony.

138

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53 The Great Ceremonies: Potlatch for the Dead

Introduction. The potlatch to honor the dead is probably the most serious cere¬ monial event of the Ingalik year. Prestige is derived from the presentation of gifts, but there is no social amusement involved. In general, the procedure of the ceremony parallels the ritual treatment of an individual who has died. The pot¬ latch for the dead is a way of showing respect as well as actually supplying needed objects to the departed person. One may give this potlatch for any deceased person, but when a father dies, a son even though very young will thus honor his parent. People try to give a potlatch for each dead person but only the rich can do it. The potlatch for the dead takes place during the shortest days of the year cor¬ responding to the month of December. Possibly this is because everyone is home and least busy at this time. No connection with the solstice is recognized. In most villages, a potlatch for the dead takes place once in one to three years. Even a poor man hopes to make one potlatch and will save and save to do so. If a very rich hunter gives twenty in a lifetime, his reputation is tremendous. Actually few men give many potlatches, the more obvious distinction being demonstrable in the quality of the gifts which are distributed. Parkas, mittens, boots, and food comprise the only gifts at this ceremony. The potlatch for the dead properly lasts during a period of four successive days and nights. One man may give a potlatch for the dead, or two or more men may do so to¬ gether, not collectively but in aggregate. In other words, each part of the procedure is duplicated by each potlatch giver. Each man making a potlatch for the dead can honor only one deceased person at one potlatch. Besides the person so honored, one speaks of living persons as being potlatched to at the same ceremony. A pot¬ latch giver will customarily potlatch to several living men on one occasion. The latter men are not partners of any kind but usually individuals chosen with an awareness of their ability to reciprocate. Most of the individuals potlatched to may reside in the same village as the potlatch giver, but one man at least may be ex¬ pected to live in another settlement. A man may potlatch to a woman as well as to a man. In that case, if there is a return invitation, it will be made by the woman’s father, husband, or son. Finally, women may potlatch to women. In this more unusual situation, men act for the women involved. For the sake of clarity in this description we shall present an instance of one man giving a potlatch for the dead in honor of his deceased son to five men, four of whom reside in his own village. Preliminary activities. A rich man and his wife who have lost a grown son by death during the previous year prepare gifts and food during the summer and fall with the intention of giving a potlatch for the dead. They spend considerable time talking together about what men they will potlatch to. Naturally they consider their obligations, for they themselves have been honored in the past. Nothing is said about a failure to return a potlatch, but the person is not chosen again. There are also the little human factors which move one to help a friend when one can afford to do so. Thus for one reason and another the selections are made.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

139

When midwinter comes, the potlatch giver announces in the kashim the names of individuals he has chosen. “Get the people for me,” he says. A couple of men willing to act as messengers make the journey to the village in which lives a recipient of the potlatch invitation. The messengers bear no maskettes, memory sticks, or other paraphernalia. When they arrive at the village they simply go into the kashim, announce the name of the invited guest, and tell the day on which the potlatch will begin. When one man is invited from a village, it goes with¬ out saying that all others in that village are welcome to witness the event. The messengers on going into the kashim of the visitors’ village do not sit down. Quite to the contrary, after giving their message they immediately leave. This abruptness is due to the fact that the kashim of the visitors’ village is conceived as representing the kashim in the village of the dead. On the day that is scheduled for the beginning of the potlatch, people arrive from the invited village and visit around among their friends, who feed them. The pot¬ latch giver and his wife are wearing old clothes. Most of the visitors come to their house but they gradually circulate among other homes. People inform them for what dead person the ceremony is being given. Also, the potlatch giver tells his honored guest from the other village, who is the first man to whom he is going to potlatch, that he should make a lamp stand for him. This request is expected and in proper time the guest supplies the lamp stand. Toward nightfall a fire is made in the kashim as usual. First night. In the evening the men alone gather in the kashim. The man who has made the lamp stand brings it to the potlatch giver and says, speaking of him¬ self in the third person, “This is your son. He heard from you and brought you this lamp stand.” The man puts the lamp stand on the floor in front of the potlatch giver and goes out immediately afterward. Then the potlatch giver returns to his own home. There he collects fish and seal oil and comes back to the kashim, his wife following behind with a load of gifts. Inside the kashim the regular lamp stand nearest the place where the potlatcher regularly sits is removed and put under the bench, and the new lamp stand put in its place. On this stand the potlatch giver sets a new clay lamp, fills it from his bag of oil, and lights it. Whenever the potlatch giver may have to turn around, he does so sunwise. Having lighted the lamp he places a grass mat, which his wife has made, so that it sticks out from under the bench at the rear of the kashim. This done, he calls the first man he will potlatch to who has made the lamp stand for him. He tells this man to sit on the mat. The man gets up from where he is sitting and walks to the mat, turns around once sunwise, and then sits down. Although this man represents a guest from the land of the dead where people always turn counter sunwise, he is not allowed to follow that custom. Should he do so unthinkingly, it would be a bad sign and the potlatch giver would jump up and reverse his movement. After the first man being potlatched to has been seated, the potlatch giver puts down a second mat and calls the second man he is potlatching to. The latter behaves

140

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

as did the first man. Each of the other three individuals being potlatched to are called and take their seats on similar mats. When the five men have been seated, the potlatch giver brings to each one first a new birch bark basket containing water and then a new plate filled with “ice cream.” Each of the recipients makes two passes at his basket and again at his plate as though drinking and eating. These gestures completed, the fish and the seal oil which the potlatch giver has brought into the kashim are passed around and eaten by all the people including the five honored guests. After this supper the people go out for a while, enjoying an intermission in the ceremony. The five honored guests return the new baskets and plates to the pot¬ latch giver with the contents, as he needs them to use again. The men may have actually eaten some of the “ice cream,” in which case they will refill the bowl by borrowing from some friend. While the people are outside, the potlatch giver usually gives the man who made the lamp stand two little sticks about one and a half inches long. The man knows what they mean. When the people have all returned to the kashim and have seated themselves, the man who has the little sticks gets up and, referring to himself, says to the potlatch giver, “This is your son who brings you these sticks because he heard that you were going to give the potlatch for the dead.” On receiving the sticks, the potlatch giver sings one or two songs which he has made up especially for the ceremony, at the same time pretending to use the little sticks like clapper sticks at the time of an actual death. When he finishes, he says, “That’s all.” On occasions at which more than one man is potlatching at the same time, ob¬ viously the singing may last late into the night. Whenever there are no more songs forthcoming, the people go to bed. Most of the visitors are men and they sleep in the kashim. dome are accompanied by their wives, however, in which case they stay in the house of a friend. The next morning the potlatch giver brings four or five bundles of dry fish into the kashim. The five guests being honored at the potlatch sit on their mats while the potlatch giver’s wife serves them plates of choice food such as meat, while the fish are distributed among all the people in the kashim. During the rest of the day tne people do as they please. Ihe five men who are being potlatched to take the new bowls in which they have been served and, filling them with fish and “ice cream,” return them to the house of the potlatch giver. This is done as a simple gesture of courtesy. Second mght. After all the people have gathered in the kashim, including such women that wish to attend, the potlatch giver supplies a great variety of food in mg bowls. This offering comprises fish, fowl, and game which were dried during 5® Pre™ls mofths m anticipation of the ceremony and are now specially cooked. The five honored guests have their plates filled up from the big bowls which are then passed around to everyone. When the people have finished eating, the potlatch giver sings his songs once

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

141

again. Afterward anyone in the audience who wishes to do so may sing his own songs, made up when the singer himself has given a potlatch for the dead. When everyone has sung as much as he wishes, the people go to bed. The activities of the da}'- following the second night parallel those of the pre¬ vious day. Third night. The potlatch giver provides another feast, and songs may be sung as on the night before. Early the next morning, or at least before dawn which comes late in the northern winter, the potlatch giver enters the kashim and asks his live honored guests, “Are you going to make ice cream’ for me?” They say, “Yes,” and go to his house with him where they assist in preparing this special food. As the “ice cream” froths up and they have to transfer it to other bowls, old women are certain to give them a hand. When the task has been completed, the five men carry the bowls of “ice cream” as well as a great deal of fish to the kashim. They are followed by the potlatch giver’s wife who brings in a large bag full of new clothing while some other woman conveys for her three little dishes containing fish and “ice cream.” The five honored guests sit on their mats as usual. The potlatch giver presents each with a basket of water and a plate of food as on the previous day. Then the wife of the potlatch giver pulls out of her bag an edge or some small part of the parka, the boots, and the mittens which are to be given to the first man. The potlatch giver comes over and slowly draws them out the rest of the way, the parka first, then mittens, and then the boots. These garments he takes to the first honored guest who has removed his own costume in the meantime. The potlatch giver puts the mittens and boots down beside the first man and then, taking the parka, he puts it on his guest. When this is accomplished, the latter himself puts on the trousers and boots that are lying beside him. During the remainder of the evening, the recipient wears the clothing, and with the hood pulled up on his head no matter how hot he becomes. The same procedure is repeated for each of the other men to whom the potlatch is given. Directly after these men have received their suits of clothing, the potlatch giver calls by name the men who have helped in making the coffin for the deceased or performed other important sendees in connection with the death. The potlatch giver is seated in his regular place, and the men who are called come and sit on the floor, side by side, facing him. The potlatch giver then makes his gifts to these men which may consist of complete costumes or any parts thereof, depending upon the wealth, and generosity of the donor. The one or two men who receive the most valuable presents then stand on the cover boards of the fire hole and stretch out their arms. This gesture, which is just the same as saying “thank you,” people make only at a potlatch for- the dead. The next event, which usually takes place at a potlatch for the dead, occurs when the potlatch giver takes a little basket of water and places it in front of some per¬ son, possibly one of the five honored guests. The person will make two passes toward it as though drinking, after which the potlatch giver empties the basket over

142

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

the fire hole. Then he takes one of the three little plates containing fish and ice cream” brought in by the woman accompanying his wife and hands it to the same individual. The latter again makes two passes at the recept? -le but does not eat any of the food. After he makes the passes, he hands the dish to the nearest old people who eat the contents and later return the plate which is kept permanently by the man who has made the passes. This little performance signifies that the potlatch giver will make his next pot¬ latch to the person who has been ceremonially offered the water and food. Water and each of the other two plates with food are offered to two other men in the kashim who are not necessarily the same persons who are honored guests at the time. A greater or lesser number of invitations may be issued, as the potlatch giver wishes. Also, he may make such invitations at his own house or other people’s. The primary function of these invitations is to have the deceased person, who is being honored, know that the potlatch giver intends to do more for him later. Having finished with his ceremonial acts the potlatch giver passes “ice cream” and fish to everyone. The people eat, and later boys help him to take away the dishes. After a short intermission, all the men, and such women as wish to, gather again in the kashim. The first of the five men to whom the potlatch has been given, and who is sitting in his usual place, gets up, turns around sunwise, and rolls up the mat on which he has been seated, putting it under his right arm. To hold it under his left arm would be an improper procedure. Then he goes to the place on the floor which is in front of the potlatch giver and his wife who are sitting by the new lamp. He says, “Your son is glad to have the parka. He is going to wear it all the time.” With this statement he stretches out his arms sideways, a gesture of thanks on the part of the deceased, and goes outside the kashim. There he waits for the other honored guests who repeat what he has done, except that perhaps only the first two speak while the others are content to stretch out their arms. As the enlarging group waits by the river bank or at a little distance from the kashim, they all keep their eyefe down for it is taboo to look around the village. When the group is complete, they walk to their own houses, or to the house which they frequent most as visitors from another village. About ten minutes after the five honored guests have left the kashim, the potlatch giver and his wife go home. There is no restriction on their looking around while they do so. Honored guests and hosts having departed, any of the other people in the kashim may leave. It is early evening and some young men put back the old lamp and take the new one outside, leaving it in the snow beside the entryway. This ceremonial lamp stand is regarded as belonging to the dead. It is not a taboo ob¬ ject, however, and eventually some child will pack it off. Fourth night. In the evening each of the five honored guests brings a dish of “ice cream” and some fish to the kashim. This food represents a gift to the dead. Anyone else among the potlatch guests may also bring “ice cream” and fish to the evening ceremony. One by one, the five men present their dishes to the pot-

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

143

latch giver and his wife who are sitting in their usual places. Some younger fellows carry this offering to the recipients’ house for them. Then all the food which is brought in by other members of the audience is passed around and everyone eats the food. It is on this night that the hot dance may be interpolated. On the next morning some man tells two boys to go around to the smoke hole of each house and yell a word which means literally “to make a noise.” The people in the houses, hearing it, know what to expect and prepare themselves. The boys return to the kashim and say that all is ready. Then everyone in the kashim jumps on the floor or cover boards of the fire hole. Then they stop and wait. When it is quiet, everyone in all the houses jumps together. Again there is quiet. This act is repeated until the men in the kashim have jumped four times and the people in the houses have responded likewise. This action, as will be seen, parallels the stamp¬ ing done on the morning of a funeral when a dead person is taken out of the kashim. It also ends the potlatch for the dead and the visitors all go home. Following this ceremony, the potlatch giver and his wife do not put on new clothes in the place of the old ones they have purposely worn until twenty days after the potlatch is over, providing it is the first one that they have given. On the other hand if they have previously made a potlatch for the dead, they need only wait two days before changing their clothes. In either case, both take a bath and having dressed in their best costumes, once more take fish and “ice cream” into the kashim for everyone. The old clothing specially worn during the potlatch is bundled up and put away for another such performance. The Great Ceremonies: The Hot Dance

Introduction. The hot dance is a performance which theoretically serves to increase the supply of food animals but it also provides pleasure to a degree which, in the minds of the participants, ranks it as a social amusement second only to the animal’s ceremony. Also, there is in it surely a compensation for the austerity of the potlatch for the dead. This becomes obvious when one realizes that if the hot dance takes place, it is always on the fourth night for the latter ceremony. Although it is inter¬ polated in the potlatch for the dead, it is nonetheless regarded as an entity by itself having a completely independent origin and explanatory legend. The hot dance lasts only one night, and only one performance takes place in a given year and village, if one takes place at all. The name of the ceremony is derived from a special Ingalik word for “heat.” This word has somewhat of the connotation of animal’s heat and the sexual inference is not excluded. Actually the name is applicable in both figurative and realistic senses as will be seen, for, besides the sexual aspects of the dance, the people create so much body heat in the kashim that water begins to drip from the edges of the smoke hole.5 6 The hot dance has been referred to as the lucky pole or lucky stick ceremony in Ingalik Material Culture, 422-423, 463. These names, however, are those given by Europeans. The

reference of the “pole” or “stick” will be clear enough, whereas “lucky” refers merely to the offering of gifts, rather than to the “pole.”

144

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY. 53

Preliminary activities. The hot dance is initiated wnen a man who is being potlatched to takes the potlatch giver aside and says, “I think your son(i.e. the dead person potlatched for) would like to have the hot dance.’' No one must be told that the dance is to be given, but the word spreads among two or three friends of the potlatch giver. They go into the woods and. cut down a spruce tree in order to obtain a pole a little longer than the distance between the floor of the kashim and its smoke hole. This tree is then stripped of its branches and its bark is peeled. Finally the makers decorate the pole by taking hawks’ wing feathers and tying a bunch of the breast feathers at their distal ends. Three of these feather decorations are tied around the pole in groups about three feet apart except for the six feet at the butt end of the pole which is left smooth. Between each band of feather orna¬ ments, the makers paint a red stripe three fingers wide around the pole. The peeling and decoration of the pole are done behind the kashim. When people go out from the kashim as evening approaches, they hear the workers singing one of the hot dance songs in the woods. They are pleased because they know they are going to have a good time. The dance. In the evening after everyone has eaten, two fellows go out and carry the decorated pole up onto the roof of the kashim and start to sing. As they do so, they lift off one corner of the smoke hole cover and thrust the six feet of the butt end of the pole into the aperture. They leave it there for about ten minutes while they finish their song. Then moving sunwise they repeat their performance at the other three corners When the cycle is completed, the smoke hole cover is half re¬ moved and the pole gradually lowered, butt end first, into the kashim. As the pole nears the floor anyone says, “Put that hot pole on the floor.” The shaman then gets up and takes hold of the end of the pole. He makes the call of the raven, then perhaps that of the wolf and of the fox, as he works the pole downward, in the manner of one who is milking an oversized cow. The noises indicate that the shaman is communicating with his medicine animals. Finally, the shaman pats the ena of the pole.in the center of the cover of the fireplace and says “All right!” Ai the voids, men rush like a shot for the pole and about eight grab it, the others crowding around, rhe two men on the roof come inside to join in the performance. Everyone starts to dance, moving forward sunwise around the pole and bending his knees in rhythm to the songs which are sung. There are tvro series of four songs each belonging to the hot dance. Some have words and some have not. As the dancing continues, the people sing louder and yell. Drums, however, are not used in the ceremony. When the first four songs have been completed, the people begin over again. Everyone is smging, dancing, and yelling—men, women, and children. The men are closest to the pole and the women are dancing on the outer edge. Someone shouts, The boys are trying to take the hot pole away from you girls.” Then the girls rush in, holding the pole while the men dance as an outer circle. This reversal of position continues periodically throughout the evening.

OSGOOD: INGALXK SOCIAL CULTURE

145

After a little while, the man who has asked for the hot dance goes outside the kashim, returning before long with a wolf or a wolverine skin. The moment he straightens up after crawling through the door, he starts to dance with the skin above his head, the tail in one hand and the head in the other. Soon someone grabs the pelt away from him and continues the dance moving around the room sunwise. The latter does not go far, however, before another person fakes it away and con¬ tinues in the same direction. Different men continue this performance until the skin has made the complete circuit of the kashim. This done, the skin is tied tail downward at the end of a convenient stick which is wedged into the wall opposite to the door at about head height. Before long a second man goes out of the kashim and returns with some other article, and the same performance of dancing around the room occurs. In the end the object is placed under the hanging wolf or wolverine skin which had been first brought in. From time to time other people, both men and women, go out and bring back some object to add to the pile. Both men and women contribute, but the women are more apt to participate later and to bring less. About midnight two men yell, “We are going to put out the lights.” This is the signal for which everyone has been waiting. Each man, married or single, looks around for the woman he likes. Then the two men put deep wood bowls bottom side up over the lighted lamps on the lamp stands in front of the benches at the two sides of the kashim. In the darkness which follows, there is a pandemonium of yelling, squealing, and laughing. Then the men holding the covering bowls give a warning yell and immediately lift them off to light up the room. It is not unusual that someone is caught in an intimate gesture of sexual play, a situation which only increases the laughter. By this time it is late at night, but the people begin to dance again and to sing a second series of four songs. This they do over and over again as in the previous part of the dance. Once more the two men yell, “We are going to put out the lights.” Darkness descends as they do so. Theoretically the men are expected to give their warning cry and release the light in about a quarter of an hour. In fact, through carelessness or intent, and despite the precautions of certain old men who are supposed to guard against such an accident, more often the lights may be put out altogether. This means that in order to restore illumination, fire must be brought from a neighboring house. In either event, it is not unexpected if ten to fifteen participants are exposed with their trousers down. Actually, when the lights are not put out, sexual intercourse can only be accomplished providing there is complete agreement between both par¬ ties, and then not always if anything goes wrong. Between most people there seems to be merely a good deal of enjoyable playing around. In the more usual case when the lights have been extinguished, however, license is considerably extended. For the unmarried participants, sexual intercourse is highly permissive. On the other

146

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

hand, a man never takes his wife as a partner on such an occasion. Consequently, cases of adultery are frequently observed and the injured spouses may make a great deal of trouble on the following day. Serious injuries can result from these conflicts. As dawn approaches, various men try to climb up the hot dance pole but it is very slippery from the grease of many hands which have been hanging on to it. Perhaps four or five men make the attempt before one finally succeeds. Once outside on the roof, he attempts to pull the pole up after him, but the people inside hold on to it for a while. Then as they let it go, everyone throws his hands above his head and yells as the pole disappears through the smoke hole. The man who has drawn it out heaves it behind the kashim and goes inside again. The people are sitting on the benches, tired and throat sore. The women go home. Finally a few men haul out the skins and other objects which have accumulated under the rear bench and pile them up in the center of the floor. Some old man distributes these gifts among all who are present. The man who asked for the hot dance receives most, and at least one whole skin of each kind. Others may get a piece of each kind of skin, the latter being cut up into strips. Only adult men share in the distribution about which there is never any argument as no one seems to care how much he receives. Death Introduction. There is probably nothing in Ingalik culture of which people are more conscious than death. There is no child so socially insignificant that its decease will not be discussed in the village. When a great man dies, the impact reverberates back and forth and gestures indicating recognition of the fact may continue for years. Even the death of an adult of average social position is a signal for beginning a series of ceremonials which make the act of dying the most important event in Ingalik culture. It is with this crisis that we must deal now, recognizing that in normal circumstances the individual’s role is as closely linked with those of his fellow villagers as is that of a leading player in a drama with those of his supporting cast. When consciousness of approaching death comes to a person he may show no emotion, but again, in another instance, a man may weep from admitted fear. Men say that women are ten times more apt to be afraid but there is no evidence to prove they face the act of death itself with less equanimity than do the men. In pain, people show their suffering but distinguish the cause of such emotion from an anxiety about departing from this world. People smile when they talk of dying in the hills, for the animals living there somehow make a pleasant place in which to bid one’s life farewell. There are perceptible signs of death which the people will counteract if possible. For instance, a voiced yawn at night is a warning that someone will die. Therefore, men and women cover their mouths with their hands when about to do so. Should a child make a noise while yawning, the mother immediately makes the sound of a

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

147

flatus with her pursed lips to prevent any ill effects. As everyone knows, a dying person makes a noise like someone yawning. Sometimes a man in the woods hears an owl speaking, “Whoo! whoo!” and then he knows that someone will die. There is no escape. The owl is the unmistakable symbol of death. Also, a man may see a porcupine walking on the beach and, picking up a stick, decide to kill it. Just as he is about to hit the homely creature, the porcupine performs the strange act of running away so that the man cannot catch it. Anyone will tell him that to see such a thing is a bad sign and death may be expected. Death will also follow if one comes upon the markings in the snow beside a trail that show a raven has been rolling over. The way the raven’s wings have impressed the snow all around makes the matter clear. There is also one kind of hawk, the next to the largest, which will portend a death if one comes upon its frozen body. There are still other ways one may foresee a death. In the summer when a man’s winter clothing is stored in his cache, his wife will go to make sure that it is not becoming moldy. Sometimes, when examining a parka hanging over a pole, she finds that mice have made a nest inside the hood. Knowing this to be a premonition of evil she asks her mother what to do. The old one tells her to go into the smoke house and to get a basket there and put into it some old, dry human excrement. With this the mouse’s nest and young are put and the whole thing burned. Some¬ times this prevents a death but not always. Some people see death in the peculiar circumstances of their fishing. A man may go to his fish trap for the first time and his catch makes a full load to carry home. Then on following visits he may find only three or four fish in the trap and he comes home dejected and asks his friend what he thinks the matter is. His friend says, “Maybe your wife has walked on your trail?” “No,” he answers with certainty. The next day the same thing occurs. There are still no fish. Then he asks some old man for the loan of a lucky song to make the fish come. The old man starts to give it to him but says only two words and cannot remember the rest. He stops and tells the man something is going to happen to him. “Did you hear an owl hooting in the woods?” “No,” says the man in trouble. “Well, some people learn from fish,” and he walks off, recalling as he does so that a person cannot sing a lucky song for a man who is about to die. There are also imperceptible signs of death like those that come in dreams, and whether they are believed or not—still, one by one the people die. Causes of death. As all Ingalik know, every death results from the loss of the spirit or yeg. These matters of the unseen world, however real, will be dealt with at a later time. Here we are primarily concerned with perceptible things. It is quite clear, for example, when sickness comes to a person for, unless death is sudden, the person wastes away with visible changes of the body and anguish which cannot be repressed. As elsewhere in the world, there is no mystery about such signs as these. Sometimes a woman dies in childbirth and this too is understood. In such

148

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

a case there is no special disposal of the corpse and the same is true of individuals who suffer fatal accidents. Starvation periodically appears to strike down not one individual, but many. Perhaps once in ten or fifteen years there comes a period in which the fish do not ran and there is little game. Everyone is starving. A mother and father may go off in search of food leaving their children closed up in their abandoned house. As long as they are capable, they will travel up and down from village to village trying to find a friend with food. Those who have it try to hide their meager provender, while those who have none will steal whatever is left unguarded. No cache is inviolate. Even if a friend is found who does offer aid, the food is secretly conveyed so that no one will find from whence it came. When there is nothing, a person has no choice but to move on to another village, perhaps freezing to death in his weakness while making the journey. One old woman is said to have saved her life by eating the lice off the dead bodies of her fellow villagers. Starvation was the terrible sickness of long ago. Another cause of death is suicide. To kill oneself is considered a shameful act, but it may be done nonetheless. The corpse of such a person receives special treat¬ ment. There is no regular funeral and the body is put on top of some other grave. Even the spirit is destined for a distinctive afterworld. A woman who has decided to take her own life ideally bathes and puts on new clothes. Females apparently prefer to die by hanging. The girl may use her inside belt, another line of babiche, or one of braided willow bark. No knot is required if the inner belt is chosen since one end will be simply inserted through the slit in the other. Otherwise, a slip knot serves. The girl, perhaps crazy from frustrated love, goes into the woods, climbs up in some willows, puts the cord around her neck, and fastens the end to a fork in the branches. After she jumps off she may kick around for a long time and consequently may be cut down before she is dead. Saving her life is said to be useless, however, for she will probably be successful on a second attempt. Sometimes an old man will strangle himself with a line, but men who are not old more often drive a knife or arrow into the heart. A man would not drown himself, as most rationalize that this method is painful. For whatever reason and however it is done, suicide is considered a form of insanity. 1 he Ingalik take an unfavorable view of the abandonment of individuals where such an act leads inevitably to their death. As previously mentioned, in the desperate times of starvation, abandonment does take place, but then no choice is considered to be involved. Also old people are occasionally left behind in a winter village if they have no one to look after them. Such unfortunates may strangle themselves. However, should nealthy, active members of a family remove to their summer camp leaving relatives helpless, they would gain a very bad reputation for doing so. Ingalik claim that when traveling they will not abandon living people for any reason. If they did so, others wouia laugh at them and simply say that they had killed the individuals that they had left.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

149

Finally, among the causes of death we come to murder. The corpse of a person whose life has been taken by another is treated in a particular way and the spirit goes to a special place. As for him who kills, he risks death by revenge. In the rarer case when the murdered man has no friends or relatives in the village to avenge him, the man who murders remains in the corner of the kashim for twenty days without going out. He wears a green willow7 fastened around his right wrist and another around his neck. During this period he eats no fresh food and at the end of the twenty days he takes a sweat bath. Then the murderer must have the “sun song” as well as some other lucky song sung for him wdien he comes out from the corner. If he has killed with a bow and arrow, it is thrown away and a new one made With the new one he goes into the woods and shoots at every kind of tree. If he does riot do this, he will want to kill someone else. In the special case of a man who murders a shaman, be will darken his eyes, as well as the whole area of his face above them, with charcoal. Then he goes under the bench in the corner of the kashim for three or four days. If he then commits suicide because of the shaman’s power, as the people say is always the case, there is no proof of it. People are glad when a bad shaman is killed and do nothing to the man who does it. A man with such courage is an extraordinary rarity, however. Types of disposal of the dead. The proper and desirable way to dispose of a corpse is to inter it in a coffin after a suitable ceremony. Then the coffin is placed on a coffin rack at the edge of the cemetery until either the spring or the fad burial season. At that time the coffin is deposited in an ordinary coffin house in the cemetery or. in the case of a shaman, in a special coffin house. This type of disposal is used for any person old enough to sit up including women who die in childbirth and those who drown, purposefully or not, providing the family can afford it Perhaps two fifths of the population are buried in this manner. Since it is the elaborate and ceremonial way of disposal, the proceedings will be described in detail in a section to follow. For those whose relatives do not have the wealth to provide burial in a coffin, disposal normally consists of interment in the ground. A hole is dug in the cemetery and the body squeezed into it, wrapped in the mat 01 skin on which the person has customarily slept. The body is not formally flexed but, in so far as possible, placed so that the feet and consequently the face are directed toward the point of sunrise at the time. Poles are laid over the grave hole with a layer of birch bark and then dirt added. No secondary disposal is involved. The actual treatment of the corpse varies considerably according to the feeling of respect felt by those carrying out the undertaking. For the friendless, burial means an unceremonious dumping in the smallest hole possible; where there is affection, there is tenderness without ostentation. Although burial in the ground is not the preferred method of disposal, it is the most common, probably about three fifths of the population being treated in this fashion. Burial in the ground also takes place under some special circumstances, as, for example, when people die far away from their home village during the summer-

150

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

time. In a situation where it is not possible to convey the corpse in a preserved condition, it is simply tied up in caribou skins and deposited in the ground without ceremony. Such graves are apt to be very shallow and if the person is unimportant socially, he may be thrown in the hole as unceremoniously as fish heads into an underground cache. A rare form of burial in the ground can take place when a man secretly murders a person and then buries the body in the thawed ground under the house in order to hide the evidence. Also, it may be noted that babies are often buried under a spruce tree which is not in the graveyard as this is believed to help them to be reincarnated. Tree burial is another rare form of disposal and is applied only to the bodies of some children who have died too young to have been able to sit up. The small corpse is wrapped up and put into the branches of a spruce tree which is not in the graveyard. This is a variant treatment of burial under a spruce tree, also on the presumption that reincarnation will be facilitated. Cremation is another uncommon method of disposal of the dead, but one which is dictated by various circumstances. People who are killed in war, irrespective of whether they are friends or enemies, have their bodies burned. Also, cremation is used for the disposal of suicides, except those who have died by drowning, but only if the death takes place at a considerable distance from the graveyard. When a body is found frozen on the trail, it also is cremated. The finder does not cross over the body but turns directly back on his tracks to inform the friends of the frozen man. The latter return to the place of the dead and make a large pile of wood as close as it can be found to the body. This they set afire and then go and bring the corpse, throwing it on top of the funeral pyre. The dress of the dead is not changed nor is the body touched in any way that is unnecessary. Only one man stays close to the fire. He pokes the corpse so that it will be consumed as much as possible. When cremation has been completed he leaves the ashes behind him and comes home where he must undertake the regular twenty-day taboo on fresh food. The practical explanation of this treatment is that the body being frozen stiff cannot be subjected to the ordinary treatment of burial. Temporary burial may take place on a platform away from the village on an occasion when a person dies as a member of a group which is traveling in the winter¬ time. If it is not possible to transport the corpse, it may be put up on a platform erected on four posts with the intention of returning for it later, at which time the corpse will be conveyed to the village and interred as usual. Abandonment of the dead, as has been said, is not an accepted pattern of behavior among the Ingalik. The bodies of undiscovered dead who freeze or otherwise perish away from home might in a sense be considered as abandoned, however. This would also apply to a person who has been murdered in some outlying place. Murder itself leads to another extremely rare form of disposal as when a shaman is murdered and his body cut up into small pieces. The parts are then put in a swampy place and covered with moss. It is thought that if this were not done, the corpse would swell up and the body of the murderer likewise. For the same reason

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

151

it is said that a man who has been murdered “in the mountains” will have each joint cut apart by his assailants. A final and rare type of disposal of the dead takes place when the body of a person that has hung or stabbed himself is put on top of a relative’s coffin house in the cemetery. As has Ipeen noted, this will not be done when the suicide takes place at a distance from the village, in which instance cremation is substituted. Also, the body of a person who has been openly murdered is put on top of a relative’s coffin house. In either case no secondary disposal is involved. Coffin burial: before kashirn ceremony. When a person of consequence dies in the winter village, the body is immediately washed by members of the family and dressed in new clothing. The corpse is placed on a mat or sometimes a caribou skin. The face is covered with some piece of the dead person’s clothing. The body is never left alone for fear the “devil,” or giyeg, will come. As soon as possible a shaman is consulted concerning the removal of the body to the kashirn. If the family has been sickly, the shaman may advise removing the corpse through the smoke hole of the house, but this is seldom necessary.6 Ordinarily the corpse is carried out through the door by four men, each holding onto a corner of the mat or skin on which the body lies. A rock is immediately put in the place where the corpse had rested in the house so that the spirit which caused the death will be afraid and not return. Also, a little fire of birch bark is made in the house by the family which creates a smoke that has a cleansing effect upon the residents. All this activity, from the washing of the corpse to its removal to the kashirn, takes place as soon as possible after a person dies and irrespective of the time during the day or night. It should be noted, however, that when the death takes place during the occupancy of the summer village, the entire ceremony is con¬ ducted in the house rather than the major part taking place in the kashirn as is normal during residence in the winter village. Coffin burial: kashirn ceremony. The body is carried into the kashirn where it should properly remain for four nights. A mat is put on the floor in the corner of the kashirn opposite to the point where the sun rises. Two sticks are driven between the floor boards into the ground just below the front edge of the bench to support the corpse in a sitting position facing the dawn. The mat comes up behind the body and pieces of skin are stuffed behind the neck to hold up the head, the whole body being tied in a tightly flexed position with babiche belonging to the deceased. The knees are drawn up underneath the parka and the hands crossed on top of them, palms down. The babiche line goes around the body and the supporting sticks. A small clay pot is fastened in a willow bark sling and tied with four strings of the willow bark line to the stick on the right side of the corpse. Plates for food are also put near the body. The regular lamps on each side of the kashirn are lighted and burned continuously during the ceremony. If a person dies and is brought to the kashirn in the daytime, there is no dancing 6 Years later, the same informant claimed that the body was always removed through the smoke hole.

152

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY- 53

or singing on the first night but only on the three nights following; on the other hand, if a person dies and is brought to the kashim at night, dancing and singing begin the following evening and should be repeated, for a total of four nights. Actually, the length of this ceremonial singing and dancing is quite variable, de¬ pending on the circumstances affecting people in the village at the time of the death as well as on the prestige and position of the deceased.. In practice, many people are not honored with the full ceremony. Each evening for four days, if the ceremony lasts that long, food and water are brought in by the close relatives of the deceased. This group, which consists of a spouse or those who are of first degree of removal by blood, sits close to the dead person. Each relative makes two gestures with his hands toward the food which has been placed in the dishes for the dead. This is to symbolize eating, but the persons so gesturing do not touch the food. When the latter is to be replenished, the dishes for the dead are handed to some old people who take out the food with their fingers, put it in their own dishes, and return those of the deceased. The rela¬ tives then refill them. On the night when the singing and dancing are scheduled to begin there is some talking but the people are relatively quiet. The father, or some friend of the de¬ ceased, says, “What is the matter? "Why don't you sing?” A man, who is planning to sing, asks some young fellow to bring in a stick. The boy returns with a piece of wood perhaps two feet long and the thickness of his wrist. The man who is going to sing cuts it in two and hews down one end. of eachhalf to form a graspable handle. This man then takes off his parka anticipating that the performance wall make him hot and, standing in his undershirt in front of the deceased, starts to beat the sticks together. These clapper sticks are held in an almost vertical position, with the one held in the right hand slanting in at the top toward the holder and the one in the left hand slanting out. The striking is done by moving the sticks sideways. As the man beats the sticks together, lie starts to sing and. dance. His song is largely extemporaneous and may describe certain traits of the person, who has died how, ior example, the deceased killed, caribou, or what were his characteristic activities of the ordinary day, or how sad it was he could not eat the soup last given. An example of a song for the dead comes from “Splash-water's” father, a famous singer performing on the death of his son: Who have we to send out for animals? Who wall hunt for us now? Oh, we are sorry, my son. As the ceremony continues, any other men. may stand up and. start to dance, swaying sideways with arms folded and twisting their bodies. From time to timewomen get up, old ones swinging one arm and the 3rounger females both shoulders witn a distinctive movement that is not easy to learn.7 Anyone who wishes to, 1 As demonstrated by a male Indian trying to copy it.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

153

young or old, male or female, may rise and extemporize a song in honor of the deceased person. In so doing, the singers may borrow the clapper sticks from the person who has made them. After all the people have had the opportunity to sing new songs which they have made up for the occasion, some individual noted as a singer gets up and, taking the clapper sticks, starts to sing some old song for the dead. Everyone who knows the song sings with him. There may be many voices. Afterwards he sings another song and perhaps only two or three other people know it. Obviously, songs for the dead are learned by their repetition at the ceremony and some are more frequently repeated than others. On one night of the ceremony there may be three different men who take the role of song leader. The nights that follow are the same. Food and water are brought in for the dead, and new and old songs are sung. On the fourth night, the man who made up the first new song sings it again. The singing and dancing continue through the night. Finally some fellow says, “It’s going to be daylight now.” Then some boy is handed the clapper sticks and told to go outside the kashim and throw them in the upriver direction as far as he can. When the boy had done this, a song leader begins to sing a series of old songs for the dead. When the third one has been completed, the deceased person’s mother, or some other near rela¬ tive, unloosens the babiche cord around the corpse and pulls up the parka, pushing it off the knees of the deceased as though he were going to rise. She also stretches out the dead person’s hands, palms up. The body is stiff by this time. While the ad¬ justment of the corpse is taking place and the fourth and last song is being sung, all the people stamp on the floor to send the deceased person on his final journey. As soon as the singing and stamping is over, the corpse is wrapped in a mat (or skin) and tied with babiche or willow bark line around the back and below the knees. This lashing is knotted with a single bow knot. Then as the first rays of the sun appear, the body is drawn up through the smoke hole by two or three men pulling from the roof. The movement of the corpse causes an odor to exude from its mouth and a black stuff may be disgorged. Once a body which was being hauled out of the kashim slipped from its mat and hit the floor rather hard. Everyone was scared and a shaman was called to make medicine. He said the whole village was doomed to disappear and, sure enough, it is gone now. As soon as the body has been moved, a rock is put in its place to prevent the spirit, which caused the death, from returning to the kashim. .Also, a small piece of birch bark about six inches square is burned inside the kashim so no spirits will remain. The corpse is carried over it on the way to the smoke hole. Last of all, a lamp is kept burning for four days on the bench close to where the body was placed. Coffin burial: following the kashim ceremony. During the daytime, while the ceremony for the dead is taking place, the best friend of the deceased takes charge of making a coffin. He asks two or three other men to help hirn split the necessary planks from spruce logs. These are just large enough to contain the body when

154

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

the planks are lashed together with spruce root lines. Actually the pieces are not put together until just before the corpse is brought from the kashim. During the interval, the tools which have been used in the manufacture of the coffin are put inside it to prevent spirits from entering. The corpse, once removed from the kashim, is no longer kept in a formally flexed position, but is simply squeezed into the coffin, knees up with the hands around them and the head brought forward a little. The body lies on its back and a little piece of rabbit, caribou, or some other kind of skin is always put over the face. When the coffin cover has been fastened on, a line is looped around the front end of the box and another at the rear. Four men carry it on the special trail to the edge of the graveyard. If there is snow, the coffin may be conveyed on the deceased man’s sled. At the edge of the graveyard, the coffin is put down where some men are burning poles to form a platform at about head height to support the coffin until the time comes for its final removal to the cemetery itself. This coffin rack is oriented so that when the coffin is placed upon it, the deceased person’s feet wdll be directed toward the sun at dawn. When the coffin has been put in place, everyone goes home. Periodically thereafter, a small fire is built under the rack supporting the coffin. This fire is built of willows or other wood and serves to keep the corpse dry and to prevent body juices from oozing out. Should they do so, however, they are wiped off with grass which is then burned. This drying process may to some extent preserve the corpse which becomes light gray in color. The frequency with which the fire is built may vary from four times a month to perhaps five during the whole winter. This service is contributed by a mother, widow, or friend, and a man may do it if no woman is available. Final burial takes place at either of two times in the year—when the ice goes out in the spring (May) or early in the fall (October). At these periods all the coffins which have been placed on racks at the edge of the graveyard are removed to the cemetery and placed in coffin houses just constructed for their reception. In those instances where a death occurs during one of the two regular burial periods, a coffin is not put on a rack but carried directly to the cemetery for final interment. Racks from which coffins have been removed are burned. Disposal of deceased's property. Before a person dies he will indicate whether he wishes to have his property burned, inhumed with him, or given to friends. This is as true for women as it is for men. The person may indicate that part of the property is to be burned, part to be inhumed, and part to be given away. If a person dies without indicating his intention with regard to his property, in general that which is good is given away, that which is no good is burned. That which is to be burned is deposited in a fire made with birch bark a few hundred feet behind the river bank. When burned, property goes to the deceased person immediately, whereas that which is given away goes to him only when it is worn out. Some objects may be put into the coffin if the deceased person wishes. Such material, when too large, may be laid beside the coffin rack on the ground and covered with birch bark. When the coffin is removed to its coffin house in the

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

155

cemetery, these things may be tied up on a pole at the head of the coffin house with a protecting grave pole cover above them. Such grave offerings are usually broken. Before death a person may call in a favorite child and give him, or her, something as a memento. A man seeing his wife with such an object may ask later, “Why don’t you give it to me?” Then, even though the object is of no practical use to a woman, she answers, “No, I want to keep it. When I look at it, it is like seeing my father.” The husband understands. After the death, when the people have returned from putting the coffin on the rack at the edge of the graveyard, the mother, or another member of the family of the deceased, tells the people to come to her house. There she calls someone by name and says, “Do you want this?” holding out a good object that belonged to the deceased. The person takes it if he wishes, or he may choose something else from the material that is being passed around. Close relatives of the deceased may occasionally distribute their own possessions to show their sorrow. The house of a deceased person is generally vacated ten days or a month after the death has occurred. The occupants move in with other families, at least until a new residence can be constructed. Houses are not so apt to be vacated after the death of a child, although if several die, removal is much more likely. Sometimes people return after an absence of a year. A widowed spouse, for example, may get tired of living with other people and prefer to return to the house in which a husband or wife has died. The burning of a house generally takes place only following the death of a person without relatives. In such a case, some individual may take the cache. The most valuable property left by the deceased is inherited by the children of the same sex as the person who has died. If the children are young, the property may be left in the charge of the widowed spouse. If there are no children in the family when a husband dies, the widow uses his property as gifts at a potlatch for her deceased husband. A widower usually gives his wife’s belongings to her sister. The right to use trap sites for fish or game passes to sons or, if there are none, to daughters’ husbands or to friends. Clothing of a deceased person, if in good condition, may be used by some old person. The garments, however, are first dipped in urine, rubbed a little and hung up to dry outside for a long time. Since clothes are tied to life, one must be very careful. Behavior of the mourners. The period of mourning for close relatives of the deceased may vary according to the status of and attitude toward the individual who has died. With scarcely perceptible recognition of the event at one end of the scale, great respect to the deceased appears at the other. It includes not only four nights of singing and dancing in a kashim funeral, but a total of twenty days during which various taboos are observed. The latter period may be marked off daily by setting aside one of a bundle of twenty little sticks, or by recording the passing of time by scratching marks on a single flat piece of wood. Close relations, in showing respect for the dead, should eat only dried food broiled

156

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY.- 53

on a stick for the first four days. For the remaining sixteen of the twenty, fresh food may be eaten, but it also must be broiled in the same manner. Actually, some people starve themselves in their sorrow. These taboos, it should be noted, apply to adults or, more specifically to girls of fourteen or over and to boys of about seventeen or over. For the period of four days following that on which the deceased has been put in Ms coffin and placed on a rack near- the cemetery, one member of the household, normally a woman, drops a tiny bit of food and a few drops of water into the fire on the hearth. Only one person makes this offering and she does it at the same time that she eats her evening meal. The period of four days conforms to the time during which the deceased person is on the road from, the village in which he died to the land of the hereafter, and the ceremony consequently serves for his nourishment Mourners wear only their old clothing following a death. When they go outside, the hoods of their parkas must always be drawn over their heads. Should this not be done, their hair would turn gray. Bereaved women in their sorrow cut their hair off a little below the ears leaving it still a little longer than a man ordinarily wears his. The hair is cut either by hitting it on a rock with a stick or by using a beaver incisor. The hair that is cut off is placed in a fish skin bag and hung up in a willow or any kind of tree except the spruce. Men involved in the considerable labor of constructing a coffin or a coffin house must take a sweat bath when they have finished. When a death has occurred at some place distant from home, the accompanying relatives stop at the edge of their village when they return. There they will wail. There also they may take off their upper garments and abuse themselves as visibleevidence of their sorrow. Both men and women may thrust bone skewers through, the muscles of their arms. Men may likewise insert such, a needle under the skin of the forehead close to the hairline. Such demonstrations, however, take place only at the edge of the mourners* village and only the first time that they return after a death. Tire wailing which takes place is a heavily voiced cry with the sound of a, grunt drawn, out in pain. Wailing is done on the day of death by both men and women mourners and also at other times such as that mentioned above. Actual crying with tears may follow the wailing, and is almost inevitable on the part of those close to a person immediately after his death. Groups may join in the crying, but more than fifteen or twenty minutes of it is considered bad for the people ana they are persuaded to stop. Someone of the same sex will put his arm around his friend’s neck and tell him not to cry so much or he will become ill. Men cry as well as do women and sometimes just for a few minutes when the name of a dead friend or close relative happens to be mentioned. All types of work are taboo for a, period of four days following the death of a, close relative, although the strictness of adherence depends upon the feeling and attitude of the mourner himself. Theoretically, those showing respect should not entei a canoe for twenty days. This restriction is, of course, only meaningful in

OSGOOD: INGAIJK SOCIAL CULTURE

157

in summer, but then may become a vital matter. However, if one has a friend with a “loon song,” through his cooperation the taboo can be negated. Children are specially warned away from a house in which a child has just died. Finally, there is a taboo on remarriage for a year which influences the behavior of a surviving spouse. Ceremonial feasting becomes an important activity of the mourner. We have already seen the important role that the potlatch for the dead takes in the drama of living. Also, we have observed that on the second day of the partner’s potlatch material objects are held up and given away in honor of deceased individuals. Still another occasion of ceremonial feasting for the departed must be presented. This takes place around the coffin while it is on a rack waiting for the period of removal to the cemetery. At intervals the principal woman mourner, or sometimes even a man, comes to the coffin rack and builds a small fire beneath it. When the first is burning, the woman brings dry fish and “ice cream” if it is wintertime, perhaps using a sled, or berries, if it is summer. People in the village see the smoke and come to join her. Few children participate, however, as it is considered dangerous for them to do so. The people having gathered, the women wail and cry for a period of about fifteen minutes. A person may call for the deceased as a child does for its mother. When the period of crying and wailing is over, those who have gathered proceed to eat the food which is offered. After the food has been eaten, the people may tell stories about their ancestors of recent generations or, to be more specific, stories about the known dead. Most people participate as a social pastime, although there are generally three or four people in a village who are recognized as never attending such feasts. The character of the day, in considerable measure, deter¬ mines the choice of the occasion—if it is not too cold in the winter, or if there are not too many mosquitoes in the summer season, people may sit around on willows, spruce boughs, or grass for most of the day. Such gatherings are never held inside the graveyard itself, but it is clear that assembling at the coffin racks, in close proximity to the cemetery, constitutes one of the major opportunities for social intercourse among the Ingalik. FAMILY LIFE Around the House

The buildings. For the typical Ingalik family the small winter house is the primary home. It is occupied from the time that the “rains are over” (late August) to the period at least nine months later when the “snow goes” (May). Generally two families construct and live together in this most common style of house although, for one reason or another, sometimes only one family is found living in it. On the other hand, almost as often as there are two families, there are three. When a larger number of families resides in a dwelling, another style of house is required, but it is rare. There is the so-called large winter house which will accommodate up to six families and the kashim-like winter house, even more exceptional, which will house the same number in the most luxurious style that Ingalik technology affords. Ob-

158

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

viously, the latter will not be constructed except under the leadership of a very rich man. . Associated with the winter houses, mentioned above, is a variety of outbuildings. Each married person, regardless of sex, may be expected to have at least one high cache for storage purposes erected some fifty to seventy-five feet behind the house of its owner. These caches vary in size, the larger ones being supported on six posts instead of four. A specially designated storage house known as the lucky animals’ fur cache perhaps may be found twenty-five to fifty feet behind the more common variety. Then there is also the underground cache of which each married woman will have at least one. This is a rather rudely constructed cold cellar dug underneath, or close to, a woman’s high cache. This storage place is about three or four feet deep and is entered through a tunnel-like door at one end. Birch bark baskets with food in them are deposited on the bare floor, leaving a necessary air space above. Since these caches are only entered by removing layers of dirt, birch bark, and poles which cover the entrance, they are infrequently visited. A woman at one time tries to remove a month’s supply of the provender which has been stored. Also oriented with respect to the house, one finds a simple rack for a sled and another set of racks along the beach for canoes. Women seldom have sleds and consequently do not need a rack but, for canoes, each owner usually has a rack of his own. Also the women’s toilets should be mentioned, which are reached by follow¬ ing trails that lead from their caches a short distance into the area behind. Men, on the other hand, use a common toilet behind the kashim. The usual residence during the shorter season of the year is the cottonwood summer house. Generally, it is occupied by two families, but the people tend to spread out more during the fishing season than in the wintertime. The rich man, who is the head of a family, may with the assistance of others build a spruce plank summer house to accommodate up to three families. Also, it should be remembered that some winter villages have summer houses in front of them close to the beach. In such a location, families may construct the spruce bark summer house which is inferior only to one made with planks. A more simple copy of the former is erected in the summer village by using birch bark as material for the walls. Irrespective of the type of summer house which a family occupies, each married woman has a smoke house. The ordinary type has distinctive walls of willows with the leaves on, laid horizontally. This is the most common building in the summer village and may vary considerably in size. If a woman’s husband is industrious, he may be persuaded to make his wife a smoke house with walls of spruce poles and logs. Occasionally one sees this variety with only one side properly extended which suggests that the man was not disposed to finish his building as originally intended. Apart from the quality of the smoke house, it is important to the woman for various reasons. In it she smokes the family catch of whitefish which need more careful treatment than do salmon. The smoke house also becomes, for the woman in the summertime, much what the kashim is for the man in the winter. In it she makes her pottery and does much of her weaving of mats and other objects manu-

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

159

factured from twisted grass. Also, when the weather is hot, she is likely to do the family cooking there. Besides these residential buildings, each woman may have an underground fish cache, a simple hole in the ground into which salmon heads and viscera, or some¬ times cleaned whole'fish, are stored during the seasonal runs. The contents remain edible and acquire a taste which is sometimes described as being like “cheese.” This food is removed from the underground fish cache before the owner departs for her winter residence. Also, there is the hemispherical house of willows which is constructed in the summer village for the purpose of taking sweat baths. These houses show con¬ siderable variation. They may be made by a man and his wife together, or by one person alone. The people in the house. Having thus set the stage, so to speak, we can return to the winter village and a typical residence. In it we find two families, each consisting of a man and his wife and their several children, comprising perhaps twelve indi¬ viduals in all. If we move around the village, however, we can see that in some houses the composition of the family is not so simple. We find the rich man who has two wives living with him, and a number of houses in which a new son-in-law or daughter-in-law is temporarily resident. Also, we become aware, for one reason or another, that some older man or woman has become a supernumerary member of the basic family. In most cases these are widows or widowers, who, for a longer or shorter period, have moved in with their children. If one has spent a lifetime in the neighborhood, one recognizes that most of the men and women have always lived in the same village. Some of the young men have gone but new ones have come in their place. On the female side, however, there are few new faces and most of these women were born at a village near by. It is also obvious that a young man has just moved in to sleep with a girl in the house of her father. They are still terribly shy. His marriage will be less of a loss to his mother because the latter is excited with the daughter-in-law her older son has brought home for a period during which they will prepare to build a house of their own. With whom they will build is still uncertain—perhaps with the boy’s brother or perhaps with his wife’s father, or probably with someone distantly related, if re¬ lated at all. Areas of the house. In order that we may better understand life in the Ingalik winter house, it may be helpful to look at the various parts of the structure. Actually the main room of the building is not very imposing from the outside when covered with snow. At best, the ends of a few roof beams project from the mound. Only the entryway is distinctive, reaching above ground like the mouth of a funnel. If one will pull aside the mat covering the door and walk inside, one will find a porchlike area with a hole leading down into the ground at the farther end. As one moves toward it, one may notice a few bundles of grass, for duffel or for mats, lying at the sides of the entryway, together with some birch bark for baskets and perhaps a man’s urine bowl. Also, there may be a few pieces of dry wood. No food is kept in

180 Fig.

18.

Interior of Small Winter House.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

161

the entryway and the dogs are not allowed there. When the weather is very cold, children sometimes play in its shelter, but to do so is considered dangerous if they are small enough to fall into the excavated entrance. Also, one would be very old not to remember that it is often in the entry way that a young girl meets with her lover. Lifting up a second mat door, one can easily climb down the notched log leading into the passage to the house which has been excavated to a depth of about three and a half feet. One crawls along a man’s length, more or less—and the farther, the warmer the house will be—until he lifts a third mat door and enters tire house itself (Fig. 18). It is somewhat dark but that does not disturb a person who has been brought up in such a house. The floor is bard dirt, packed down so tightly that no footprints show. There are no mats, grass, or boughs on it and, indeed, with a small fire burning in the center, there is not much room remaining. Actually, the part of the floor not covered by benches may be only five feet wide and ten feet from front to rear, and even this area is encroached upon by the four large posts which hold up the roof beams. It is true that the larger variety of bouses has a little more space and the kashim-like winter house even has a floor similar to that of a kashim, except that it does not reach under the benches. Besides the floor, one can see as his eyes adjust to the dim light that the normal surface of the ground provides a ledge ail the way around the interior of the house, especially at the front where the distance exposed amounts to several feet and even more at the rear where there is room enough for a person to stretch out. On the front ledge, at each side of the door a shelf is constructed between a framework of four willow poles. These serve as storage places for fragile or valuable objects which might otherwise be easily lost. On the shelf, one finds the lamps that are not in use. When a woman wishes to sew, she takes one down and, lighting it, places it close to the edge of the wall behind her so that sitting near by, she has most of the il¬ lumination on her needle. Men also leave their red spruce wedges on the shelf for fear that the heat in the kashim may split them. At the center of the front ledge, firewood is piled: large winter houses, which have a bench construction at the rear, may have firewood stored under it also. Between the woodpile and the shelf on the front ledge, the food suppty that has been brought into the house is kept. There will probably he fish in a fish skin bag and various other foods in birch bark baskets. As a woman will understand, the Ingalik “icebox” is conveniently near the door. Approximately two thirds of the area of the house is covered by the two side benches which extend the entire distance from the front to the rear of the house. These benches are from one foot to twenty-one inches lower than those in the kashim. so that women can easily climb onto them. The surface is made of split cottonwood poles laid parallel in lengths of about five and a half feet which become the width of the bench. Grass mats are pegged into the dirt of the ledge so that they hang over the edges, covering the walls around the bench. Of course, the rich man in his kashim-like winter house has his walls of split wood poles and also benches of well-hewn planks. These, however, are only differences in quality.

162

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Each bench provides the private residence of one family, and it is therefore ob¬ servable in the construction of the commonest winter house that two-family occupa¬ tion is the most logical. However, as has been stated before, a third family not in¬ frequently joins the others, in which case, bench poles are laid on the normal surface of the ground forming the rear ledge. The wide shelf may be placed at one end of this “bench” or at the other. Curiously, although a large winter house has a considerably greater interior area than the common one, there is a little less room on the rear ledge. Consequently, a section of true bench is built to extend the rear ledge at its own level for one- or two-family occupancy. In the rich man’s kashim-like house, however, the wide benches go all around the room at the normal level, only the area in front of the door not being utilized as this would make entrance into the house more difficult. In contrary economic circumstances, some old woman may make her home under one of the benches, perhaps digging out the earth a little for head room. Sleeping. The occupants while in the house in the wintertime probably spend at least one third of their time sleeping. Indeed, for husbands who pass their days hunting or fishing when away from the village, and working in the kashim and even eating dinner there when in the village, the house becomes largely a dormitory. For the adolescent but unmarried sons, it is not even that. Therefore, it is natural to see the Ingalik winter house as truly a woman’s home. She occupies the area near the front of the family bench with her unmarried daughters between her and the front wall. Her husband sleeps beside her and their young son on his side next to the rear wall of the residence. This arrangement, however, may vary as in a case when a husband has two wives. In this predicament, he sleeps between them. The beds are made by spreading loose grass on top of the benches and then cover¬ ing it with grass mats. A man and his wife sleep naked with a rabbit skin blanket (robe) over them. Occasionally they will have another underneath them but this is unusual. The rabbit skin blankets have a familiar and pervasive smell of the fish eggs and urine which are used in their tanning. Some people may have blankets of beaver or muskrat skins. It may be seen that adults, and especially elder ones, use blankets whereas boys and girls sleep in their clothing, keeping on their parkas as well as their undershirts and under trousers. Small children sleep in their under¬ clothes, but without their boots on, and share in their parents’ blankets. A man and his wife use a common pillow of tanned caribou belly skin, or some¬ times of sucker skins, stuffed with the breast feathers of swans which have been caught in the moulting season. These pillows are roughly two and a half to three feet long but only one foot wide and a few inches thick. The corners are considerably rounded to give the pillows a shape like a bean. Such a pillow is used only by a man and his wife in a house, and with years of service it may become, “so dirty that it shines and can be smelled for a mile.” To serve as a pillow, a girl will slip one arm out of a sleeve of her parka and, folding the unused part of the garment, push it under her head. Boys will most often make their mittens serve as a pillow. In sleeping on the bench, everyone lies with his head toward the fireplace. A

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

163

baby is said to lie on its back for the first three or four months and then on one side or the other for the rest of its life. When people are cold they curl up in knots. Some people snore when sleeping and some talk. If they wake other persons, the latter will not like it, and a person walking in his sleep is actually frightening. Such behavior is rare, however. Traditionally, women get up in the morning before their husbands, and children on reaching the age when they can talk are made to get up with the mother. Sometimes they think that it is too early. Making fire. About the first thing done when people get up in the morning is to make a fire. One of the older children in the family goes outside, climbs up on the roof, and removes the poles which hold down the loche skin smoke hole cover. This window in the roof is almost transparent since the skin is so thin. Being thin, it is edged with salmon skin so that it will not tear when wood is laid on the edges to hold it down. Once removed, in the center of the roof an opening is left a little smaller than that of the kashim or about two by three feet in area. Inside the house the ashes in the fireplace are stirred up with a stick until some hot coals are brought to the surface. To these are added dry sticks and with a little draft, the flames blaze up. If by chance the previous night’s fire has burned itself out completely, someone is sent to a neighbor for a hot coal which is carried between the ends of two green sticks. The morning fire is called the “cache fire” and is made principally to warm up the house. After this has been accomplished, the fire is allowed to die down and the smoke hole cover put back on until evening. With the approach of dinnertime the smoke hole cover is removed once again and a draft mat put up on the roof to windward. This is achieved simply by leaning the mat against three sticks which have been stuck up in the dirt covering of the roof, throwing the mat over them, and driving a fourth stick in front of the mat to hold it in place. Dry wood which has been collected during the day is passed into the house through the smoke hole and piled in the middle of the front ledge. This process is easily carried out as the smoke hole is only about seven and a half feet above the floor of the kashim. Most of the wood is spruce, which gives the greatest amount of heat, but in the spring when it is not so cold, pieces of willow and cotton¬ wood also are burned. One never sees birch used for a household fire, however, because of the black smoke which the bark gives off. Likewise, alder will not be burned for its sap runs red like menstrual blood. The evening fire is the principal one of the day. Again, hot coals are fished out of the ashes and once the fire has caught, wood is added by laying pairs of cross pieces on top of other pairs, much as one places the beams on a roof. At first there is a great deal of smoke but by opening the mats covering the doors and by adjusting the draft screen on the roof if necessary, the fire can be regulated so there is a mini¬ mum of smoke. Some people, however, will bother about smoke much less than will others. After the principal meal of the day has been cooked, the fire may be kept burning a little while for warmth. Then the large pieces of burning wood are thrown out through the smoke hole into the snow and the hot coals buried once more in the

164

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

ashes. The loche skin window is put back in place, holding the heat inside of the house and bringing a significant measure of warmth to the people during their rest. When the spring rains come, people are apt to procrastinate before moving to their summer residences. Not infrequently, water from the melting snows floods the subterranean houses. There is a good deal of tolerance for water, as it is every¬ where anyway. Under such conditions, however, it is necessary to build up a trun¬ cated pyramid of dirt about a foot high in the center of the floor. On this “duck’s nest,” the fire can then be built. Only the kashim-like winter house has a fire hole, and it is about two feet deep. As is obvious, the fireplace in summer houses serves primarily to smudge away mosquitoes and flies. Heat is not required, and even cooking is often done in the woman’s smoke house. Preparation of food. Women do the cooking and since there are usually two or more families in a house, it becomes a social activity although each woman cooks the food for her own family. Men do not cook in the house and women do not like their interference in doing it themselves. Older daughters assist, however, but the younger children are restrained for fear of their being burned by the hot, greasy food. The Ingalik meal may be said to comprise two main parts. These are boiled food and dry fish, the latter being the staple of the river people’s diet. Also, there are some foods that are broiled, some that receive special preparation, and still others that are eaten raw. Water, necessary for cooking and drinking, is normally brought from the river, the only source that is considered really good. Just before dark in the wintertime, a mother, or her older daughters go to the water hole with their birch bark baskets. When water holes are easy to make because the ice is thin, they are numerous and close to the houses. In cold weather, however, it is easier to keep only a few of them open so there are perhaps three for the village and the women go to the nearest. The water is dipped out with a special water hole basket which has a small handle to prevent its slipping out of the hand. The water is transferred to a larger basket which is then brought back to the house. Food for the meal comes from three sources. It is brought in from the traps or the hunt by the men of the family, while the rest a woman gets either from her high cache or periodically, as already has been mentioned, from her underground cache. To these three sources may be added a woman’s gathering of berries and other vegetable foods during the warmer months. Among the favorite foods are salmon and whitefish, caribou and moose. Almost all fresh or frozen fish and meat as well as game birds are boiled when they are to be eaten in the house. Salmon trout, are usually but not always boiled, and blackfish only about half the time. Jackfish, grayling, grouse, and ptarmigan, however, are seldom boiled, while brook trout and porcupine are never cooked in that manner. When these foods just mentioned are not boiled, they are broiled on a stick prepared for the purpose. Large fish are impaled lengthwise on the stick, the other end of which is stuck into the floor near the fire. Other foods are skewered as may be convenient for broiling Bird’s eggs especially those of ducks and sea gulls, are boiled hard. First, the eggs may be tested

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

165

for freshness by placing them in water in a basket. If they float they are thought to be fresh, and if not are presumed to be on the way toward containing young birds. These latter, when cooked, are considered excellent for children. Ihe actual boiling is done in flat-bottomed, clay pots which range in size up to one foot in diameter and one foot in depth. These pots, when not in use, are kept on the floor where they will be visible under the edge of the bench near its door end. Thus it is hoped that they will not be broken, for clay pots must be handled with care. For cooking, the pots are placed close beside the fire and not on it. Water and food are added. When the food has been cooked, the pots are removed by means of pads made of grass or of skin. Baking is not properly a part of the Ingalik cuisine. The nearest approach to it occurs when fish eggs are cooked in a sausage-shaped fish skin bag. This is done by inserting one end of a broiling stick into the middle of the mass of eggs, driving the other end of the stick into the ground. In a sense, the fish skin casing makes a sort of oven and the eggs are baked. Fish eggs are like salt to the people. Women taste their food as they cook it. If fish eggs turn a little yellow they may be sour. In that case a woman eats them herself but does not give them to others. Fish should be either well cooked or raw, dried, or rotten—half-cooked fish are considered to be not well prepared. As elsewhere, some women are regarded as good cooks and others are not. Among the specially prepared foods there is “ice cream,” a ceremonial dish which has already been described. Fish oil for use in it as well as for other purposes proves to be an important item in the diet. Most of the oil comes from dog salmon heads. After the heads have been boiled a little, the hard part on top is eaten. Then the remainder is boiled some more, and the oil which rises is ladled off with a mussel shell and put into salmon skin bags. The bags in turn are put into birch bark baskets and the baskets into a woman’s high cache. The preferred oil, which is sweeter, is made by boiling the viscera of whitefish. The skin of these fish will not serve for bags so the oil is preserved in containers made from the stomachs of the loche. The fat of caribou and bear is also rendered and preserved in the stomach of the animal. Besides solid foods, soups are important in the menu. Fish eggs, which have been preserved in fish skin bags, or in old fish skin boots, until the eggs have a hard crust on the outside, are stirred into a meat stock and boiled about ten minutes. This makes a delicious dish. Also, fish eggs may be added to a broth of rotten blackfish, a concoction which is highly appreciated. Blood from large animals killed in the bills may be carried home in the stomach. In the house it is brought to a boil in a pot and drunk as is soup. Other choice items include boiled, dried beaver tails cut vertically into lengthwise slices. When the black skin has been pulled off, they taste like pigs feet. This delicacy is kept for winter. Moose feet with the hoofs and hair are boiled about seven hours, and beaver or bear feet can be treated in the same way. Such choice foods are re¬ served for older people who say they are not good for the young. Moose nose, when well boiled, and fetal animals are also appreciated. Rotten fish and viscera when

166

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

dipped a minute in boiling water make an exquisite mouthful. Also, berries and roots must again be mentioned. Most of these are eaten raw and generally in season, but some are preserved for special preparations during the long winter season. Eating, visiting, and storytelling. As has been made clear, the principal meal and sometimes the only one of the day is eaten in the evening. Married men and adoles¬ cent boys are served by their wives and mothers in the kashim. Once the woman returns to her house, she does a bit more cooking while the children wait hungrily. As often as not, a mother will feed her young ones before she joins the other women of the house to eat her own dinner. Some individuals, seemingly by nature, eat more than others, although restraint is expected in manner if not in actuality. Usually, people eat quietly, but when they do not like the taste of the food, they smack their lips a little and put the food to one side. When this is done a “woman gets shy.” People enjoy sharing their food with each other. Men do it with their friends in the kashim and women do it with their female housemates. Old people eat food that has been mashed up like a baby’s. Water is drunk from a small birch bark basket held with the thumb inside. The proper procedure, within the house, is to drink slowly and quietly. A few people have wooden cups with which to drink but these are rare. A considerable variety of wood dishes provides the means for serving the food and also for holding individual portions. These containers may be simple or fairly elaborate. Notable are long fish¬ shaped dishes in which whole broiled fish are placed. Wood spoons of various sizes and shapes are also available for removing cooked food from a clay pot, for serving, and for individual drinking of soup. A special bowl is often reserved for a visitor. The wood and bark dishes are washed in water after they are thought to be dirty, a condition which is usually judged to result after people have been eating from them lor three or four days. Hot water in which blackfish have been cooked may be used, and a piece of old bark fish net will serve as a dish rag. Once cleansed, the containers may be wiped with nettle toweling, and, when dry, a little fish oil is added to make them shine. Actually there is not a great deal of visiting inside the houses by people who do not live there. When guests do come, people talk softly. Most discussing and gossip¬ ing is done outside on the paths, unmarried women and boys using the one that runs behind the row of houses and the married people that which lies in front. Even children do not play very often inside each other’s houses, for when they do, they cieate a great deal of noise which is very much disliked. Men visit other men’s houses any time they wish but no male past the age of puberty would stay inside a house other than his own with only women present. When a visitor comes he pro¬ ceeds to enter without any formal sign. His approach through the entryway and down into the entrance can easily be heard. When he reaches the main room, some¬ one inside asks, “Are you coming in?” and the answer is always, “Yes.” On leaving a person will say, “I shall go out,” and again the response is simply, “Yes.” A woman sits on the floor or the bench of her own house (or in the kashim) with er e§s outstretched in front of her but squats with her feet flat on the floor and her buttocks off the ground in someone else’s home. She will only cross her legs

OSGOOD: INGALXK SOCIAL CULTURE

167

when no man is present. Boys and girls stretch out their feet when sitting anywhere. A man sits with his feet out in his own house but, when he goes to that of his friend, he sits at the edge of the bench or on a convenient stick on the floor. Actually there is not too much room in most houses for visitors. One of the pleasures of the house is storytelling, an art in which the women indulge just as do the men in the kashim. Stories are a winter pastime and are rarely told in summer. Other women and children will listen, as may men who can be intrigued into telling a story too. Ejaculations indicate approval when the tale is a good one but, no matter how much anyone likes it, it should be told only once during the course of a single winter. Away from Home

Introduction. Neither the Ingalik family nor the house group collectively travels very much as a unit. It has already been seen that these groups in combination with others of the village do establish spring camps for seasonal fishing but at no great distance from their winter villages. Also, the movement of people necessary for the attendance of ceremonies links other village aggregates into traveling bands. On the whole, it can be clearly recognized that after married women have more than one small child, traveling becomes a burden which they definitely do not like to undertake. There are two exceptions to the general rule of families not traveling as a unit, however. The outstanding one takes place when house groups or individual families move between summer villages or camps and their winter residences. Although in some cases several households may move together, the basic pattern seems to be for either the family or the single household group to shift as a unit. The less regular and more unusual case of a family traveling is when a couple of men are particularly fond of hunting and like to spend the winter in the woods. Such men want to have their families with them and consequently set up a semipermanent winter residence together. Each of these exceptions pertaining to travel or life away from home will now be dealt with. Between winter village and summer camp. When the snow melts in the late spring families prepare to remove to their summer homes. There is a certain perceptible excitement which shows itself in the actions of the people. They look forward to a change but there is also a hesitancy in breaking up the accustomed routine of life in the winter village. In addition, there is much work to be done before the departure. The birch bark canoes must be taken down from the racks and inspected for needed repairs. New gum will be required for the seams and there may be a crack demanding special attention. Of course, a man who has made his canoe from poor bark will have to re-cover it, a considerable task for both his wife and himself. It is certain that he will begin on his hunting canoe which he will wish to put in the water as soon as the ice has gone out of the river. Before leaving the village his wife must sort out the clothing supply in order to separate what is to be taken along. Then there is all manner of tools, not to men¬ tion the bulky containers for food, to be gone over. Finally, and most important

168

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

of all, there is the disposition of the remaining supply of dry fish, meat, and other edibles. Actually, the amount of food on hand as well as the weather, to some degree governs the time of movement to the summer village. Somehow all these prepara¬ tions take more time than might at first be imagined. When the day comes on which a family is leaving, the previously tested traveling canoe is carried by two women down to the edge of the water. They handle this twenty-three foot craft by resting the gunwales on one shoulder so that the flat bottom of the canoe is perpendicular to the ground. Once placed in the water, the canoe is carefully loaded with the various goods which must be taken along for the summer. Friends watch the proceedings and there is a sense of sadness that some may not see each other for several months. Entering a loaded birch bark canoe is a delicate operation even for the people who are intimate with these craft, and especially when a number of people including children are involved. Once entered and settled down, however, the women push off into the stream and paddle away, accompanied by the men in their lighter canoes Those who are bound upstream keep close inshore to avoid the current where pos¬ sible but there is always the danger of drift logs and trees fallen from the banks, the branches of which can be disastrous to the frail covering of a birch bark canoe. The Indians are accustomed to these hazards, of course, and the older and more responsible members of the party keep a sharp eye out to determine the proper course. Paddling upstream is slow, but when the way is clear it is pleasant. With a group of canoes moving together along the water, some of the occupants will probably sing and be joined periodically by others. There are special songs limited to such occasions. Although a lone voyager may sing these songs, they are much more appropriate in a group where a number of people can sing in unison with everyone keeping time with his paddle. On reaching the summer camp the people are busied with their preparations for the fishing season. The buildings must be put in order, the various belongings sorted out and, most important of all, the fish traps must be repaired and put into the water. All in all, there is little time to spare, for life in the fish camp is strenuous. The flies and the mosquitoes make both day and night less pleasant and for all the joy of seeing food accumulate, one pays a heavy price in labor. Eventually, for everyone, the season of intensive fishing comes to an end. Those who survive it, and most individuals do, prepare to return to the winter village. This time of year has its advantages. The insects begin to decrease, there is the comfort of a large supply of food and work well done and, lastly, the pleasure of meeting old friends again in the winter village. One of the problems of moving at this season, however, involves the transfer of the supply of fish which has been caught during the season. For people living above their winter village, one solution is to build a large raft from the trunks of dry cottonwood trees that have fallen down and have had their bark rot off. These are lashed together with braided willow bark line into a platform perhaps a dozen feet wide and as long as the logs that have been found. Cross poles are put on top and then a flooring of lighter logs is

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

169

added. The families pile their dry fish and other belongings in the center of this flooring when ready to leave and then climb aboard, fastening their canoes alongside. The raft drifts with the current close to the shore, occasionally maneuvered by the use of long poles. In this pleasant fashion the family continues downstream until the people push up to the bank in front of their winter residence. After the raft is unloaded, it is taken apart, and the logs piled up for ultimate use as firewood. For those who have a fish camp below their winter village, there is no recourse but to convey their food supply in traveling canoes, paddling slowly upstream against the current. Several trips will have to be made, the number depending, of course, on the amount of dry fish to be transported. Family hunting groups. After the snow falls, two men who are friends may decide to spend most of the winter hunting in the hills. Since they may have wives who appreciate their fondness for hunting, it may be easier to arrange for the move than it would be for others. In any event, considerable preparation will have to be made, just as when moving to a summer village. The principal differences will be that less can be carried and the journey will be much more strenuous. In this case it will be snowshoes and sleds which must be carefully refurbished. The former are taken from the rack under the husband’s cache 'while the sled is taken down from a rack of its own. Before leaving, the men will probably have broken out the trail with their snowshoes for at least one day’s journey in advance. When a wife has made the final decision as to what she must take with her, she puts most of her load in the rear of the sled where the side rails are high. First she will put grass mats in the bottom of the sled, with the ends turned up for over¬ lapping on top. Some articles may be wrapped in the blankets used for sleeping while others are placed in bags of various kinds. When all of these are in the sled, the mats are folded over the top and the whole load lashed in place with babiche line. The sled is pulled by means of a single strand of heavy babiche line that passes across the breast of the person pulling and around the arms just below the shoulder on its way to the sled where an end of the line is tied around the runner and outside floor board on each side. Pulling the sled is extremely hard work, even under the best of circumstances which do not always occur. However it goes, the families move on into the region chosen for their winter residence, selected, needless to say, be¬ cause of the indications of desirable game. When a suitable place has been reached, everyone in the group joins in erecting an inverted V-shaped shelter which the Ingalik aptly term the spruce bough house. A good one can be made in two or three days by erecting two main posts about six feet high with a connecting beam perhaps twenty feet long. Against this beam, long, slanting poles are laid about six inches apart. On top of these the people pile spruce boughs, and the more the better. Walls are inevitably thicker near the gound as a support for the boughs above, and a space is left for a smoke hole on either side of the ridge pole near its center. Finally, a thick layer of snow is piled up about three feet high all around. Life inside the spruce bough house does not differ essentially from that of a usual

170

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

winter residence, except in the former the fire in the center of the floor is usually kept burning throughout the day. Even though it is a small fire, and it must be to avoid burning down the house, it nonetheless keeps the shelter warm. The least pleasant times occur when the wind blows, but if someone gets cold at night, he may get up and renew the fire. Such a house, when come upon in winter, looks something like a giant porcupine because of the way in which the sloping side poles project into the air above the spruce boughs of the roof. Actually, if hunting is very successful, covers made from the skins of animals killed may be used on the pole frame. Such covers have the advantage of keeping out the chilling winds that periodically blow. People in a winter camp are obviously much more isolated than other Indians. When a hunter from some other place comes to such an establishment, he does not approach at night, and if at any time someone calls out, “Who’s that coming?” he will identify himself immediately. Families engaged in winter hunting in the hills may return to their regular resi¬ dences overland by means of sleds before the snow is gone or they may prefer to wait until the ice is out of the rivers and return by water. Usually the latter is the choice if their camp happens to be close to water that can be navigated, as for example, on the upper reaches of the Innoko or Anvik river. In such locations, if the hunting has been good, the people may construct a moose skin boat making a frame which is a rough copy of that of a traveling canoe. Over this frame a cover of moose skin is stretched. The skins have been soaked in water for a day or just long enough to enable the women to sew the edges together. Then after soaking a few more days, the cover becomes pliable enough to stretch over the frame. A moose skin boat can be made, if material is available, in about five days or a little longer depending on how many people contribute to the manufacture and how large a craft is constructed. Once the boat has been made, the people load their belong¬ ings, including the meat which has resulted from their hunting, on top of some willows which have been placed in the bottom of the boat. By this means it is hoped to keep the things dry. Then the Indians climb aboard and the boat drifts down¬ stream with the current, steered by one man in the stern with a paddle and helped along by others when they are inclined to exert themselves. A journey by moose skin boat is relatively enjoyable because of the flexibility of the craft and its ability to bump along in fast, shallow water. If the journey takes more than a few days, however, the craft must be unloaded and the cover dried out. When the owners reach home, the frame and the skin covering are diverted to other uses. Being Born Pregnancy. A woman suspects that she has conceived when there is a cessation of her menstruation. She is apt to be secretive about this change in her condition, and if she tells anyone, it will probably be her mother rather than her husband! A pregnant woman sometimes has periods of nausea for about two hours during any time of the day m the early part of her term. She may vomit but this period

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

171

of illness generally passes in about two weeks. Even after the woman is certain that she is pregnant there is no change in her behavior. She carries on her usual work and there is no taboo on sexual intercourse. In a rare instance, a woman may attempt to cause an abortion by excessively strenuous exercise such as jumping, but this unusual procedure generally occurs only among unmarried girls. On the other hand, since the length of a pregnancy is not exactly known, and no attempt is made to count the days, some women try to hasten the birth for fear the fetus will grow too large and become excessively painful to deliver. To expedite matters a woman may jump off something or sit on a log while her husband pounds it to shake the baby loose. In the later period of a pregnancy a woman wears a skin belt day and night as a support for her enlarged abdomen. She makes this belt from tanned skin, cutting it the width of the palm of her hand. Near the end of her pregnancy when the expectant mother begins to have pain, she works harder than ever, packing wood and carrying water, since it is her belief that such activities will make the birth easier. When the pain becomes strong, some old woman who is skilled in midwifery is called in. She asks the expectant one if she hurts any place except in the stomach. If the latter says no, the old woman searches the abdomen with her hands in order to feel the baby. At the proper time the old woman says she can feel the baby turn around inside the mother and then she knows that delivery is imminent. Women who have already borne a child claim that they themselves can tell when birth is about to begin. This simplifies the pro¬ cedure. A woman keeps quiet when she is about to have a baby and even if she makes a little noise when the pain is the greatest, the old woman will tell her to keep still. The women suffer pain just the same as can be seen by their faces. Birth. When delivery is expected, an especially thick layer of grass is put on the bench of the house in the corner near the front wall. On this grass the expectant mother squats, having first removed her lower garments. Also, her hair is unloosened from its braids and hangs free. Men leave the house except in time of emergency but no one pays any attention to the younger children as long as they keep out of the way. When labor begins, the old woman will sing her caribou “song.” Many women have this “song” as it is very helpful in birth since the caribou is believed to be the animal which calves most easily. During the birth the old woman may also help by putting her arms under the mother’s from behind and clasping her hands over the mother’s breasts, thus giving additional support in the time of strain. When the child has been delivered the old woman ties the umbilical cord with a piece of sinew line about one inch from the navel and then ties it again a little bit farther. Between the two points where the cord has been tied she cuts it with a small, stone ulu, or woman’s knife, thus freeing the baby which is put to one side as soon as it begins to breathe. This done, the old woman takes a birch bark basket and puts into it the grass from under the mother who remains in a squatting position. The basket is then

172

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

shoved under the bench. When the placenta is eliminated at a time which may vary from shortly after the birth to more than a day, it also is put into the basket under the bench. The grass under the mother is changed every day, that which has been replaced being stored like that previously removed. After three or four days the sides of the basket containing the grass and the placenta are pressed together at the top to enclose the contents. Then it is tied all around with spruce root or willow line. When the basket has been thus wrapped up, some woman takes it quite a way into the woods where she fastens it in the fork of a birch or any other kind of tree Thereafter, the grass which is used under the mother is just thrown out. Having described a typical birth of a child, an account of a less commonplace procedure may be instructive. Once a woman who was at her toilet behind her cache called to a young boy who was passing on his way to look for some others who had gone to play on a small sheet of ice. When he went to her, the woman told him that she had cut her feet and asked him to call a certain old woman to help her. Off he ran, and having told the grandmother, she put on her parka and went to the woman at the toilet who said something to her. The old woman told the boy to go away but he only went behind a near-by cache where he hid to watch the pro¬ ceedings which had aroused his curiosity. The old woman took off the woman’s boots and trousers and put some grass under her which she borrowed from a pile stored close at hand for various purposes. Then she called to another woman to bring an old rabbit skin robe which was the property of the one who claimed to have cut her feet. This was brought and put all around and fastened at the neck of the female who had caused the commotion. Then the grandmother went and brought back a urine basket belonging to the woman in difficulties and put it over her head so that she could not even see. At this point the small boy ran home scared and asked his mother what was the matter. She told him to shut up. At this rebuff he left the house and returned to the old woman whom he had first called but she told him again to go away. He obeyed but then crawled back and hid as before. Soon he could see that the woman had a baby. The old grandmother cut the navel cord in the usual way and put the baby under the front flap of her parka and carried it into the house. Then she and the woman who had brought the rabbit skin robe put the boots, but not the trousers, back on the mother. They told her to walk with very short steps to her house and the old woman put her arm around the young one for support. When they came into the entryway of the house, the mother could not get down into the entrance tunnel so the old woman told the little boy who was still investigating the procedure to go and tell the woman’s husband to come. When the man arrived, he asked his wife why she had not told the old woman that she was going to have the baby. The wife simply said she was ashamed, apparently for not having had the courage to speak. The husband carried her into the house and put her on the bench where she squatted just as though she had delivered her child in the usual place. The mother. Following delivery a mother remains squatting on a pile of grass in the corner of the bench. The old woman who has served as a midwife, after attend-

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

173

ing to the baby, asks the newly delivered woman’s mother, if she is around, for an old parka. Having found one, the old woman presses it in between the squatting woman’s stomach and legs which are now close together. Then the old woman takes some soft skin bands about one inch wide and ties them tightly below the knees and around the back of her patient in order to press the stomach in and to prevent it from swelling up. Also, some tanned skins or other old garments are pushed in between the woman’s knees and her breasts in order to help her to keep her back straight. More skins are piled at her back and side for additional support When she is thus braced, the mother is given a few spoonfuls of hot fish egg soup almost as though it were a medicine. In this uncomfortable position the woman remains without getting off the bench for about twelve days. A birch bark basket is supplied for elimination. The woman sleeps still tied up, sometimes on her knees with her head and shoulders pillowed and her back up. This restriction causes the feet to swell and the under part of the legs to blister. In the end when the woman is untied she can only gradu¬ ally stretch herself out. On the fifteenth day the mother must go out but even then she walks bent over and cannot entirely straighten up. On the twentieth day when the periods of restraints are over, the mother begins to do a little work, gradually limbering up. She is warned not to lift anything heavy and another five days may pass before she is fully restored to her natural posture. The father. When a baby is born his father does no work for twenty days begin¬ ning on the one after the birth. The days are counted off by setting aside twenty little sticks one after another or by scratching lines on a flat piece of wood. During this period the father is not supposed to do any fishing or hunting or even to chop wood. There is no prohibition on his stretching out and lying down, however. He may go for a little walk but when he does so he must put a stone—such as one used for sharpening tools—on the top of his newborn child. Then when he goes out he must walk with small steps only. When he comes in again, he removes the stone from the baby. During this twenty-day period the new father wears only old clothes and he fastens a piece of fish skin on the bottom of each boot. When outside the house, he must wear his parka with the hood covering his head. Every six days he takes a bath in the kashim but he does this under the bench and not where people are ordinarily sitting. Restrictions also apply to food. The father may eat no fresh fish or meat. Both must be two days old at least but may be cooked, however, before serving. Dry fish and fish eggs are considered the most proper food at this period. As will be quickly recognized, should this time of enforced rest come during a run of fish, serious consequences might result for the family if the husband could not visit his traps. In such a circumstance the man can evade the taboo and go to the fish traps if he can find someone to provide the necessary incantation by singing the loon “song.” After the twenty days have passed, the father seeks out a man who has the sun

174

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

“song” among his collection. With this man he goes into the woods for a brief ceremony of purification. Of course, if the new parent has the sun “song” himself, he will not need the service of a friend. Not all men have it, however. The little ceremony begins with the individual singing the sun “song” which is done so softly that it cannot be heard. This particular medicine protects the head of the father when he removes the hood of his parka. The man singing the song blows four times into his own hads and then rubs his patient all over. When he has finished, he sings another one of his lucky “songs” and blows twice on the neck of the father’s parka and then gently hits him all over with two short willows held in his right hand. Once more he sings another “song” and then blows twice into each of the father’s mittens. This part of the ceremony completed, the purified man must set out hunting. He goes home for his bow and arrows beneath his cache and then proceeds to the woods. He must not enter his house again until he has killed something that is edible. This may take a little time but usually the hunter can find a grouse or a rabbit or something else which he can shoot. When successful, he returns with what¬ ever he has killed and gives it to a woman who is not his wife to cook for him. This having been done, he eats the food. In the evening when he goes to the kashim he rewards the man who had sung the lucky “song” with some caribou skins for having performed this service. The baby. Shortly after the child is born it is washed with the help of urine. If the neonate is a girl it does not matter whose urine is used, but if the child is a boy, that of some man will be required. The washing is done with a caribou skin rag, after which the baby is completely wrapped in an old parka. Even the head is covered. The women wait for the child to vomit a little which it generally does in the first two hours. The child is not nursed until this action takes place. If the child does not vomit a little, the old woman puts her own first finger in her mouth for a little while, after which she sticks it into the baby’s throat causing the child to do so. Then the infant is given to its mother to be nursed for the first time. The women tear the mother’s parka a little so that the baby can reach the breast. There is no preference as to which may be offered first but the breasts are offered alternately as they may become painful if not relieved of their milk. About the second or third day after birth the new baby is dressed in a shirt made from the finely tanned skins of very young caribou or beaver. Then the infant is placed on its back with its feet outstretched inside a cradle of birch bark. This container is very much like an ordinary birch bark basket except that one end is open and extended for the head. The baby’s feet lie toward the turned-up end. Ashes are first laid in the lower half of the basket and baby moss placed on top. When the child relieves itself, the moss is changed but the ashes are removed only when soaking wet. Rabbit skins with the fur side up are placed in the upper half of the cradle for the baby to lie on. The child is not constrained in any way until it is old enough to try to get out of the cradle by itself. Then a strap is tied around the child to hold it in. Most of the time the infant lies in a cradle near its mother,

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

175

for this instrument serves primarily as a bed rather than a basket in which to carry the baby. The baby sleeps most of the time but may dream or cry. Every morning spruce charcoal is rubbed on the infant’s navel, under its arms, and between its legs. In due time the end of the umbilical cord comes off. This small piece is then put into a little skin bag and tied around the right wrist of the child, whether boy or girl. When the child is older he will suck his finger and finding the bag on his wrist, will suck that too. Parents say that a child will cry for it if the bag is taken away. Once in a great while there is a case of reincarnation. For instance, after a woman has given birth to a baby, some other female members of the community come into the house to look at it. They say it is a nice baby. After they go, however, the baby cries all the time. The mother nurses it and then puts it back in its basket cradle but the baby still cries. The parent asks her own mother why this is so, and the latter says that one of the women who came to see the baby lost her husband a short time before. Perhaps her husband has come back. The women decide to find out. In order to do so, they invite the woman who has lost her husband to return to the house for another visit. When she holds the baby and talks to it, the infant stops crying and is obviously pleased. Everyone thus recognizes that it is the woman’s husband that has returned to the community. The widow says to the baby “I did not know you had come alive again or I would have held you before. Now I shall always hold you and make clothes for you and give you ‘ice cream’ when you grow up.” She then, likely as not, makes a little pair of boots for the baby. Another method of finding out about a reincarnation occurs when a newborn child becomes sick after a few days. No one knows what to do so the parents call a shaman. He does not know what to do either and goes home. That night, however, the shaman dreams of a man who has died. The latter says that he is born again and wants a fancy squirrel skin parka and a pair of caribou boots. The shaman is wakened by this dream in the middle of the night and tells his wife to go immedi¬ ately to the home of the sick baby and to tell the parents to make the clothing that has been asked for. The shaman’s wife proceeds to the house and finds the baby almost dead. They immediately find some squirrel skins and proceed to make the garments requested. When these are put on the baby, it goes to sleep and in due course gets well and nurses properly. In the morning the shaman comes to see the parents and tells them the details of what he has dreamed. He instructs them to treat the baby well and to supply it with a new parka and boots whenever it is sick because that is what it will want. For these considerable services the doctor is highly rewarded with the skins of foxes, beaver, and other animals. In special situations, mothers not infrequently kill their children. This is par¬ ticularly true when a mother is not married. In that case she is very apt to go visiting about the time when delivery is expected. When she returns, the baby has been born but unfortunately it died. Another situation leading to infanticide occurs when a woman has a whole series of children, all of which die while still young. Then perhaps wdien another is born

176

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

the girl says, “I don’t want to raise the child because it will die like the others and that breaks my heart.” Her mother says that she is sorry for her and consequently after the delivery they do not cut the navel cord. When the placenta is eliminated it is put over the baby’s mouth, and corpse and all are tied up in the birch bark basket with grass. The basket is then carried far into the woods and tied up in a young spruce tree. No other kind will serve for this purpose. This is the usual method of infanticide and the sex of the child does not influence the decision. Twins are born occasionally among the Ingalik and there is no evidence that either one or both of such offspring will be killed for that reason. Having two children at once may result in a feeding problem, in which case the mother may give one infant to a nursing sister or some other woman who has milk to spare. Monstrous births are said to be extremely rare. An Ingalik woman on the Kuskokwim River is reputed to have borne a son after intercourse with a bear. The child, it seems, was dark, hairy, and had big ears. Another monstrous birth by a woman on the Yukon River is reported by an eyewitness. Growing Up

Feeding the child. The feeding of the newborn child is naturally a primary con¬ cern for the mother. The baby is held flat on its back in the arms of its mother who extends her breast to the child with the nipple between the first and second fingers. A slight pressure forces the nipple to protrude making it easy for the child to take. The baby is nursed with the fuller breast. Some women have large breasts and some small but a woman without milk following a birth is unknown. The amount of milk varies, however, and in order to have a good supply, a woman eats as much soup as possible after the baby is born. Fish egg soup is considered especially good for this purpose. Should a woman suffer from too much milk she may relieve herself of the excess by rolling the breast between her hands for a couple of minutes to soften it. She then simply presses the breast without touching the nipple and the milk squirts out into a little birch bark basket held for the purpose. In such cases it maybe possible to accumulate an inch of milk in a basket about six inches in diameter. Such milk, taboo to men, is always thrown away in the woods. A woman can also stop the flow of breast milk by not eating for three or four days. Babies are given all the milk they want. As they grow older, however, the quan¬ tity is cut down, especially for girls, who are said to drink more. If a baby spatters milk in its eye while nursing, the mother licks off the milk as she believes that otherwise the child would become blind. Whenever a baby cries it is fed. Some cry very little, however, and others a great deal, but most of them stop between the ages of two and four. At night when a child cries and continues to do so after being nursed, the mother walks the floor with it. Sometimes the father takes her place. Crying at night is dangerous since the noise may attract the evil “spirit.” Some¬ times an older sibling becomes jealous of a younger at their mother’s breast. If the older child then cries, the mother may offer it her other breast and thus feed both at once.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

177

After nursing, the baby may belch, and often loudly, at which the women only laugh because they know the child has had enough to eat. Babies also hiccup fre¬ quently. To do so is considered natural for babies, but if the hiccups continue the child will be given water to drink. Nothing else is done either to encourage or to stop the belching or hiccuping. About the time a child is old enough to sit up on the bench with parkas piled around as support, it may begin to bite the nipples of its mother’s breasts. Also it begins to chew and suck on anything that it can find. Its own fingers and toes are convenient, but the mother does not approve and she may wind a piece of caribou skin around the favorite object. Caribou skin is tough and babies do not care to suck it very much. The finger is wrapped up each morning but it may take all sum¬ mer or even a year before the child gives up. The child is allowed to suck the fish skin bag containing the remnants of its navel cord, however. This bag is attached to its wrist and serves as a convenient diversion. Also a plain piece of fish skin may be given the child to chew on. Weaning generally takes place after a child begins to walk. Milk usually becomes scarce by that time. Rarely a child may be nursed until it is about six years old if milk is available. The child often determines the matter as it is said that “the woman has no way to stop.” If not, at least she can clearly influence the situation and there is the idea current that as a child grows older too much nursing is not good for it. Girls being thought to have a tendency to drink more than boys, there is a rationalization, consequently, for boys to nurse a little longer. In weaning, a mother chews up some of her food and gives it to her nursing baby. She repeats this no matter how often the infant spews out the food. Once the child is thus accustomed to solid foods, mashed fish, mashed fish eggs, or a little fat are apt to be the next item on the baby’s bill of fare. Having learned to eat, the child may do so in any fashion that it wishes and employs both hands generally in the process. Usually one type of food, and that generally fish, is given at one time. Blackfish, however, is not offered to a baby unless it has been boned. Bones are, of course, a danger and occasionally a child is choked to death because of them. Older children are not cautioned to chew their food but may swallow as they please. They are only told to look out for bones and not to make a noise in eating. Handling the child. A baby is usually picked up by placing one hand under its buttocks and cradling its shoulders in the other arm. It may also be made more or less to sit up on the hand but generally lying on the breast with its face toward the neck of the person carrying it. When feeding at the left breast, it is cradled in the left arm and the position is reversed to take the other breast. Whenever a woman carries her child on her back for an extended period of five or six hours, on taking the baby off she sucks its stomach in the area around the navel for a few minutes before feeding the child. This prevents the baby’s stomach from being upset after feeding as it would otherwise be from the constant up-and-down movement caused by every step the mother made. As a child grows older it is not allowed to lie on its back very much as it is con-

178

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

sidered that this would make the head flat. Old women tell the mothers when their babies cry to nurse them and lay them down on their side and on the next nursing to reverse the position. The baby sleeps in its cradle at a little distance from its mother. One reason is to avoid the latter rolling on the child and another is that if the child is too close, it may attempt to suckle. In that case, the mother half-asleep, may permit it to do so with the result that the child chokes to death. Numerous babies are thought to meet death in this way. Babies, if they have a tendency to stay awake at night, may not be allowed to sleep so much in the daytime, otherwise they do so at will. Children may crawl as soon as they are able but are not encour¬ aged to stand or walk unless they are noticeably backward. Sometimes a father who is fond of a son about a year old will take off the child’s clothes the first thing in the morning before he is nursed and with one hand roll a small wood maul from the child’s neck down to his feet about three times. This is done on the child’s back and then on his front. Finally the father lifts up the child by the hands a foot or two, repeating the process a few times. This massaging makes the child strong. People may tickle a baby under the arms, feet, or around the neck but never between the legs as this is believed to increase the sexual urge unduly. For the same reason, children are not spanked on the buttocks. Also, babies are not tickled on the stomach for fear that it might affect their digestion. However handled or not touched, children are never left alone. A baby it is feared, might be carried off or otherwise disappear should it be left unobserved even for a short while. Cleanliness and toilet training. Following the initial bath which a baby receives soon after birth, it does not receive another for a long time. The mother, however, licks the hands and face of the baby with her tongue every morning to clean them. This process continues until the baby is old enough to sit up on the bench. Perhaps four or five times during its childhood the mother may give her offspring a more thorough washing with a caribou skin rag. On such an occasion, the urine of a very rich man may be used as a detergent in order to gain his luck. After being washed, the child is wiped with material from heart of the wild nettle (Urtica dioica Lin¬ naeus). When a mother thinks it is time that her child receives toilet training, she seats it on top of a wood bowl, gently stroking its genitals with one finger. This tickles the child and it urinates, at the same time learning to associate sitting on the bowl with doing so. The bowl is likewise associated with defecation by simply holding the baby seated there for a long time. The child discovers that only by defecating can it get off. After a baby defecates it may take the excrement in its hands before anyone interferes. If the infant is seen doing so, the mother is told and she immediately takes the baby and slaps its hands. When not seen, a baby may put the feces in its mouth. It thereupon makes a face, since it does not like the taste. When the mother discovers what has happened, she removes the feces with a finger and puts some grease in the baby’s mouth instead. This, the baby does not mind, although it does not know the mother believes that if she did not do this the child would become a liar. In toilet training, mothers make a practice of placing the baby on the bowl at regular times.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

179

As the children grow older and are able to walk easily, they go to the toilet with their parents who help them unfasten their clothing. The children learn the pro¬ cedures by imitation and always go to the toilet when the parents have need to do so. Although a noticeable regularity in elimination habits is not obvious among adults, some tend to go to the toilet regularly after every meal. When a child begins to grow up a mother may ask, “How many times did you go today?” “Once.” “You’re not sick?” “No.” “All right then.” The idea seems to be that twice a day is regular. Agression. One of the earliest forms of aggression is shown by the act of biting. Babies begin to bite on their mother’s nipples about the time they are placed on the bench with parkas around to hold them up. This is generally in the beginning of the second half year of life. As the child’s teeth grow, biting, of course, becomes more significant and may be an aggressive act. If a child becomes angry it may bite its mother or anyone else. Children continue this method of attack on each other as they grow up, and females may continue to do so intermittently in adult life under various circumstances. Sometimes when children are angry, they spit at each other. Sticking out a tongue at a person is not done as an aggression, however. This gesture may occur after a child spills some of its food. The tongue is not fully extended but only pro¬ jects a little to convey the idea “Oh my!” Babies make faces at adults they do not like and when one child does not like another, he may do the same. As the child reaches adulthood, if he continues such a practice, it will be as a joke behind a person’s back. One of the things that mothers dislike most is to have a child frightened. Some¬ times one youngster will creep up behind another and shout “waa!” The surprised child jumps and screams. The mother of the victim may then have trouble with the mother of the aggressor because of such behavior since she believes that a severe fright may cause her child to become sick and die. Fighting and wrestling are much more acceptable forms of aggression, and children enjoy a considerable amount of both. If opponents become angry enough, they may pick up sticks as weapons, but parents will stop a fight when they see that one of the children may be seriously hurt. Punishment. The Ingalik are gentle with their children and most mothers are extremely tolerant of the behavior of their offspring unless the actions are thought to lead to either physical or spiritual danger. Nonetheless, small children receive a modicum of minor punishment, principally in the form of slapping. For example, when a child becomes angry and bites its mother, she is apt to slap it. Also, boys who spit will be slapped, but in this case it is because the mother believes that if the child spits where a woman walks he may not be able to run well. A girl would not be slapped for spitting since it does not matter much how well she runs. In feeding a child, if it continually spits out the food, the mother may become exas¬ perated and slap it. If the child uses taboo words or talks about unacceptable things,

180

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

it may be slapped on the mouth. Pointing with the hands is not considered proper and the children may have their hands slapped for doing so. Small children may also have their hands slapped when they play with their genitals. This does not stop them, however. It is not uncommon to see a child slapped who, having been warned, breaks a clay pot or insists on playing with the fire. A small child playing with fire may make the mother so nervous that she frightens the youngster by hold¬ ing its hands close to the flames. The child is not physically injured when she does so. Parents will also become much disturbed if a boy whistles at night. One will yell at him, “You stop that!” and he is apt to get his hands slapped in the bargain. As a child grows older the punishment of slapping may develop into more serious whipping. At least there are threats made early, as for instance, when a child will not stop crying, some adult may whisper to it, “Your mother is going to lick you.” One of the obvious causes for a whipping is when a child makes up imaginative stories which are not true and thus causes confusion or consternation among play¬ mates, if not the adults themselves. This practice is thought to lead to the child’s becoming a liar when he grows up, and to whip him is preferable. All the clothing may be taken off the culprit and he is whipped with a little stick anywhere on the body except in the genital region including the buttocks. Most of all, children are afraid of a whipping with frozen willows as their application is considered most painful. Other than slapping and whipping, there are few other punishments which the children have to fear. Although children are not shaken, occasionally a mother will give a yank at her young one’s hair. Sometimes threats are made, as, for ex¬ ample, when a young girl will be told by her mother that she will “have pups” if she “plays” with the boys. Threats are not always effective, however. An older, pre-adolescent boy who steals, chases girls, or puts fire under the feet of sleepers, despite admonitions to stop such disturbing behavior, may be locked up in a summer house if the weather is not too cold. The door is barred and he is left alone. This can be a frightening experience and the prisoner may cut his hands try¬ ing to escape. In the winter, continued bad behavior may result in a boy’s being tied up so that he cannot go outside of his mother’s house. Small children under no circumstances are left alone as a punishment, and they are never deprived of food because of bad behavior. Although for the most part mothers are gentle, inevitably the women vary in their treatment and there is the rare parent who is considered mean as well as the one who is thought to spoil her child. Play. It might be said that sucking on one’s fingers or some other object is the first form of play. As the baby gets older it manipulates any material that it can get its hands on and these more individual activities will be discussed later. Small boys play with snapping sticks which they cut for themselves out of red-grained wood of a spruce tree. These snapping sticks are about nine inches long and perhaps threeeighths of an inch wide. The game is played by placing a little piece of wood cut about one-half inch square on the end of the stick and snapping it into the air. Boys snap these missiles in order to see who can hurl one the farthest. In his efforts to exceed his playmates, a boy sooner or later breaks his snapping stick. When this

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

181

occurs he must sit on a near-by log until he is joined by all but one or two of his playmates for the same reason. The boy or boys with unbroken snapper sticks who have had the most fun must then find some fish to feed the rest. This is not difficult since the game is usually played during the summer when the salmon are running. The boys merely help themselves from their mothers’ supply, whereupon the group builds a fire and proceeds to the cooking. Another game which small children play, and in which girls participate as well as boys, consists of hiding a string with a noose at the end under the dirt and then trying to penetrate the eye with pencil-like sticks. This game is usually played in the month of May on top of the house where the snow has melted above the dirt covering of the roof. One child buries the string while the others look away. Each child has five sticks and he tries his luck. If successful he cannot play any more until all the rest have succeeded. When the game is over, the children say to the first one eliminated, “You won. You’ve got to get some fish.” He goes to his mother and tells her. “How many boys are there?” she asks. When he tells her, she gets some dry fish and cuts it up and gives it to her son who takes it out and distributes it to his playmates. If a mother is very fond of her child, she may even make “ice cream” for him and his friends. It may be added as a note on this game that if a boy hiding the string thinks he can conceal it under his feet he may do so. This game is approved of by adults as it is considered an aid in the snaring of geese. On the other hand, mothers may be annoyed by the racket on the roof and send their children off to play elsewhere. Other simple games played by children include blindman’s buff which in Ingalik takes its name from a bug that walks slowly, feeling its way. Boys and girls play together, the child blindfolded having to catch someone else. Hide-and-seek is played in the tall grass during the summer. Boys play together, and girls by themselves. Any such group divides into two parties, each lining up facing the other. The members of each side hold hands and bend over so that the tops of their heads rest against those of their opponents. One participant from either side is chosen to hide. When he has concealed himself, he gives a brief signal. Then the members of the opposing side search for him and the finder has the next turn to hide. A game of tag is played by mixed groups of children. They count off using a special word and the last to say it has to chase any one of the others. When he succeeds in tagging someone, that individual helps to tag the others until all are caught. The making of cat’s cradles is common among the Ingalik but apparently not with quite as much elaboration as is known among the Eskimo. Also, two children will break a dried wishbone between them, the neck bone of a duck being generally used. A girl may wish for a good husband, and a boy to catch plenty of whitefish. Boys also make willow whistles and other noisemakers which are a source of annoyance to adults. Such disturbances resulting more from individual activity than group play will be discussed in a later section.

182

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Singing is a highly desirable activity. Mothers sing their babies to sleep. There are no specific lullabies so the women use any fragment of song as long as it does not have a serious religious import as do many of those in the ceremonies. Humming may be substituted for singing at any time. When a child is heard singing at play, it is encouraged to continue. This may make the child bashful so that it puts its head down as it continues. No material inducements are offered to the child, how¬ ever. Most of the songs have no meaningful words but only the refrain “ya-ya.” Children like to mimic animals and this is done for pleasure at any time. Some¬ times an old man will join with the children, putting an animal skin over his head to make his performance more realistic. Not infrequently an Ingalik child develops extraordinary ability in imitating an animal. Older children may tickle each other and, once started, continue such play for a considerable time. The area under the arms is considered the most effective place to tickle someone and the reaction varies with the individual. When the youngsters grow older their tickling activities are limited to those people with whom they have joking relationships. Imitating parents is very common in play groups, the children adopting the rela¬ tionship of the elders in the household and following their respective pursuits. This type of activity leads to assuming the roles in actuality and thus what begins as an amusement continues as a normal participation in the lifeways. The children in one house tend to form a regular play group especially if there are a number at an early age. As the children grow up the parents prefer that they play with other children of their own age, and as soon as there is an obvious indica¬ tion of sex interest, the parents’ continued persuasion tends to segregate the girls from the boys. For all children there is the rule that they must come home when it is dark, and under such circumstances activities are confined to the area immedi¬ ately adjoining the house. Education. Babies are encouraged to crawl. People like to see them moving around and, curiously, say that they make less trouble when they do. The baby starts at first by pushing itself with one foot. When the mother sees the attempt she may put the baby down on the floor and place a piece of fish a few feet away so that the infant will crawl to it. This procedure is sometimes used to distract the baby when it cries. Although crawling is encouraged, walking is not, as it is believed that if children are precipitated into this activity they may be bowlegged which would make them less effective runners. On the other hand, if a child does not learn by the time it is about a year old, some guidance may be given. The baby begins to learn to talk through the efforts of the mother who is always asking the infant for this or that just to have the child learn the words. Children develop their own distinctive baby talk but it does not seem to be conventionalized. The word “baba” which is an infant’s name for fish seems to be an exception to the general rule. Also, most children call their mother “ma'P a?” and their father “ba-? a?.” Rarely, parents may try to teach a child both Ingalik and Eskimo. When the young one confuses the vocabulary, people laugh and correct him. There are no obvious signs that parents care whether a child talks at an early age or not.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

183

In the matter of common behavior, children are taught to drink as little water as possible so that they will not perspire. There is no emphasis on any particular pos¬ ture in standing but running is greatly encouraged in both girls and boys. The run¬ ning is done, for the most part, on snowshoes. Undoubtedly the greatest amount of learning results from serious copying of the activities of the parents, and the children compete among themselves in making things. When in difficulty the child goes to intimates two generations removed for advice and practical assistance. Sometimes the father is the mentor but less often than some member of the older generation. Also, it is easy to see that the children help each other in the learning process. On the verbal side there are various taboos which the child must learn. For ex¬ ample, a person must not say the word for the name of the opposite sex, thereby reducing an undesirable emphasis on physical attraction. Also, boys and girls are taught not to speak of toilet or sexual matters in mixed company. Most important of all, “spirits” must not be mentioned at night. Occasionally a small child, having dreamed, will try to describe the experience, but a mother will stop the procedure as there are reasons for not liking to hear such strange things recounted. Certain moral precepts, such as telling the truth, are repeatedly told the child, and father or grandparents will periodically tell moral stories. These are often fol¬ lowed by warnings about one’s behavior in situations of danger. Nonetheless, chil¬ dren seem to learn most effectively by experience and few learn quickly. A child who does not burn himself more than once in the fire is considered in all likelihood to become an intelligent man. Puberty

First menstruation. At the period when a girl’s first menstruation may be expected, the mother warns her daughter of what will happen. The girl is threatened with great misfortunes if she does not make the onset known immediately. Although a menstruating woman is considered a thing apart and the subject not generally discussed, nonetheless, there are such obvious external signs of seclusion that even a young girl is clearly conscious of the implications. Consequently, when menstru¬ ation starts, the girl is not unduly surprised and tells her mother. If the onset occurs at night, the timing is inauspicious and a short life is indicated, whereas a beginning during the day signifies a favorable prognosis. When her mother learns of the event, she tells the daughter to walk outside as much as possible since it will be her last chance for a long time. Also, the girl is given all the food she can eat, if it is available. The mother may make “ice cream” for her daughter so that she will have something extra before the long period of privation begins. The next morning the mother goes to visit a woman who has good “songs” for such an occasion, and tells her that she has a daughter who has “gone into the corner,” When she asks for a good “song,” the woman invariably first states that she has none, but nonetheless, in proper time, agrees to come to the woman’s house. The mother goes home and starts to work, taking out the poles which comprise the surface of the bench at the front corner. With them she forms the wall supports of a little enclosure in the same area, covering it entirely with grass mats. This rear-

184

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

rangement of the house is necessary in order to provide a separate room for the girl’s seclusion since isolation on either the top of the bench or underneath it would offer too little space. Grass is put on the floor of the newly formed room and an old mat added on top. Also, a worn rabbit skin or muskrat blanket is contributed to the meager comforts of the girl and a few personal belongings are deposited there, among which will be the girl’s needle case. The mother then brings into the house a bundle of old clothes and a special fish skin sack which she has reserved in her cache. The girl puts on the clothes. By this time the old woman with the “songs” comes to the house. There are no men present. She tells the young girl to come forward and stand in front of her. The woman sings a moon or sun “song” first, then blows on her hands and rubs the girl all over. The mother opens up the ancient sack which she has brought from her cache—a container so hoary that one cannot tell of what material it is made. Out of it she takes a head band which is actually a tube of caribou skin about one inch in diameter stuffed with spruce needles, ordinary grass, rhubarb roots, alder bark, cottonwood pods, and the roots of a certain plant with a strong, unpleasant odor. She gives this head band to the old woman who sings another “song,” afterward blowing on the head band four times. When this is done she puts it around the girl’s forehead, tying it in the back by means of short strings attached to the ends. Then the old woman goes to the mat-covered corner room where the girl is going to stay. There she sings still another “song” and blows four times at the room itself. When she has finished, she calls the girl to come. Before the girl does so she turns around sunwise four times; then she goes into the little room and sits down with her feet stretched out toward the corner of the house. For these services, the old woman is paid with skins or whatever the mother may wish to offer. No one cuts anything in the house that day, as to do so would make the “singer” ill. If there are fish to be prepared, they are taken outside. After the girl has “gone into the corner,” she receives nothing more to eat that day. That evening, after everyone in the village has retired to their houses or to the kashim and the people are sitting and talking, the girl’s mother puts her head behind one of the grass mat covers of the little room and, peeking in, says, “Do you want to go out?” When the girl answers in the affirmative, the mother asks for her ancient sack which has been placed in the corner with the girl and takes out of it another head band with a long fringe. This she gives to her daughter and tells her to tie it on which the girl does, the fringe falling from her forehead to her breast. Then the mother tells the girl to put on the old parka which is in the bundle of special clothing brought for the occasion. She obeys and, following her mother’s instructions, pulls the hood over her head. This hood is of special construction with the skin extending outward, over, and around the face. Finally the mother tells the girl to fasten her belt around her parka—an ordinary piece of motherly advice. The girl comes out from the “corner” and walks shrinkingly close to the edge of the wall toward the door. The mother, following behind, tells her to hold her head down and not to look around. Passing out through the door, they go directly to the

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

185

woman s toilet of the household where the mother waits for the daughter. When the girl is ready to return, she walks directly back to the house, again followed by her mother. She goes into her “corner” and takes off the parka and fringed head band, hanging them against the wall. Then her mother asks if she wants water. To give it to her, a small but fancy birch bark basket is taken from the ancient fish skin bag and filled by the parent. This is given to the girl together with a swan bone tube, likewise from the bag, and the secluded one is instructed to drink through it, but only a little water. Early the next morning the mother repeats the procedure of taking the girl to the toilet. She is never allowed to go alone. Also, she is warned as she walks outside, not to face into the wind, for to do so would make her eyes water as she grows older. After her morning drink, the girl is given a little fish but of the kind that has been dried the longest, perhaps a year if it is available. During the day, if the isolation takes place during the occupancy of the summer house, the mother will ask the girl’s brother, if he is old enough, or perhaps her own brother, to make a little hole in the house wall at the girl’s corner so that she can have some light. In the winter house, the incarcerated girl is supplied with her own lamp so that she will have the light necessary to sew. After the girl has been in the corner for ten days, her mother gives her some charcoal and tells her to smash it up well in her hands. When the girl has done so, her mother tells her to close her eyes and rub the dry charcoal over them. Afterward the mother asks, “Let me see your face. No, it’s not dark enough. Paint some more.” Thus she keeps after the girl until she is satisfied. The remainder of the charcoal is thrown to one side. After twenty days have passed, the mother asks the girl “Do you see anything in that bag?” referring to the ancient fish skin sack. “No,” answers her daughter, handing her the container. The mother takes out of it a little bundle of skins, unties them, and displays some red ocher. She puts her finger in her mouth and wets it, then rubs it on the ocher and tells her daughter to hold up her face. With this paint, the mother smears the areas around the girl’s cheekbones until they are bright red. Then she puts the paint away. Whereas the covering of the eyes with charcoal, which the girl does herself, takes place each time before the girl goes out of the house, the painting with red ocher is repeated only at irregular intervals by the mother during the long seclusion. Black charcoal safe¬ guards the girl’s eyes and keeps them strong, whereas the red paint provides the girl with red cheeks even when she has not used it. The girl’s meals are supplied by the mother. The food may be cooked but, if so, it must be broiled on sticks reserved for the girl’s use alone. Even if cooked, however, the food must be allowed to become cold before it is eaten. Should the girl, for example, participate in a common dish of warm soup, her face would become lumpy and her hair would fall out. During the period of seclusion, the young woman does not comb her hair. Also, she has no special scratching stick. End of seclusion. A girl is expected to stay in the “corner” exactly one year. Dur-

186

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

ing this period the young girl undertakes all the labor of making herself new clothing, even to the tanning of the skins. The only part she does not manage for herself is the stretching, for which there is not adequate room in her “corner.” When the final day of her seclusion arrives, the mother warms water with which her daughter can take the required bath. The young woman takes off her old clothes, bathes her¬ self, and puts on the clean new clothes that she has made. The old ones are rolled up inside the parka -with the special hood and tied into a bundle which is ultimately consigned, along with the old fish skin bag and its much used contents, to the mother’s cache. The sack is not yet put away, however. After the girl has bathed and dressed, an old woman with “songs” is called in. She may be the same person who performed at the beginning of the seclusion or yet another. In either case, the woman when first asked will say that she has no “songs” and, if she does not wish to perform, she may continue saying so. In such an event some other woman is called upon. When the “singer” comes to the house, the mother puts her hand into her ancient fish skin sack again and pulls out a third head band.8 She gives it to the old woman who goes out with the girl following her as she is instructed to do. They go behind the cache to the toilet area, the girl wearing her parka with the hood pulled over her head. The old woman sings two “songs” and then blows four times on the girl’s neck, pulling down the hood of the girl’s parka as she does so. The girl then turns around sunwise four times. After turning around, the girl puts on the head band which the old woman offers to her. This head band is a soft piece of skin about three inches wide with the lower two inches cut as a fringe. After she has tied it behind her head, the old woman sings another “song” and blows four times on the fringe. The old woman then tells the girl to put out her hands, palms up, whereupon she sings one more “song” and blows four times on the palms of the girl’s hands. She then tells the young woman to rub her palms together. The girl goes home with the short fringed head band which she will wear until after her next menstrual period. The mother asks her where the old woman is and the daughter says that she is coming. The old woman never appears, however, and the mother sends the daughter to her home. When she arrives there, she informs the old woman that her mother wants to see her. The old woman agrees, so the girl goes home and reports that she is coming. When she arrives, the girl’s mother asks if all went well. When she says that everything was fine, the mother is happy and gives the “singer” a parka or some other valuable object in payment. The mother, of course, knows that if anything interrupted one of the “songs” or otherwise went wrong, the girl would die. Having finished with the ceremonial procedure, the mother tells her daughter to go outside the house, which she does, wearing the symbolic fringe. While she is outside the mother removes the old grass from the corner, takes down the mats, and restores the bench to its original condition. When the girl comes into the house she 8This is head band-C. For detailed comparison of head bands see Ingalik Material Culture, 407.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

187

is given good food. Most important, she is instructed as to the proper behavior now that she has become a woman of menstruating age. Dangers of menstruation. Before her first menstruation, there are few restrictions on the behavior of a girl, but afterward she is considered, if not a mature female, at least one responsible to the community and particularly to her household for not breaking taboos which, if broken, might endanger the health and economic security of the family. These restrictions which are concomitant to her position essentially involve the disassociation of herself as a menstruating woman—and more par¬ ticularly of the menstrual fluid itself—from any uncontaminated person and especially a male involved in fishing or hunting. The restrictions extend quite logically to any weapon or other object involved in such pursuits. The situation can be best understood if specific instances are described. People’s hair may be seen hung up on the branches of a spruce tree. It is put there because if a man’s hair were allowed to lie on the ground and a menstruating woman walked over it, he would never catch any game again. Even the hair of a woman which has been cut off as part of the mourning behavior is hung up, for even a woman will suffer under the circumstances just described. Should a menstruating girl walk over it, the woman’s hair would not grow again. It has already been noticed that alder wood is not burned because of its tendency to exude a blood red sap about an hour after it is cut. Since this sap is associated with menstrual blood, alder wood is dangerous even to touch. Women with a proper sense of responsibility will not step on a man’s trail until at least twenty minutes after the man has passed. For instance, when a man has brought a load of fish in his canoe and left it at the bank, his wife will wait some time before going down to convey it to her cache. It should be noted that this period of avoidance applies to any woman of menstrual age and not only to a woman who is menstruating. If a woman participates with her husband more intimately in the catching of fish, she must have the benefit of a special “song” in order to enter a canoe being used for such a purpose. Another example of avoidance already ob¬ served is that which appears in the occupation by women of the front part of the kashim on occasions of public gatherings. They sit there with the old men whose success in obtaining food is no longer so vital to their households. The burden of taboos is not entirely on the women, however, as we can see by looking at the men. Boys are restricted to the rear of the kashim in order to keep them from dangerous contacts. More obvious perhaps is the fact that one can observe a man at the end of the day picking up the shavings which have resulted from his cutting of birch wood and carrying this pile of waste material to the river for safe disposal. Thus he makes sure that no woman of menstrual age will step on the shavings and consequently prevent his ever finding a good birch tree again. Certain foods are taboo to a menstruating woman. She cannot eat mink, otter, lynx, marten, or bear. These are not important foods, but if they are killed by men, as is usual, she cannot even touch them. Most significant in this group is the bear, and no woman of menstrual age should eat the meat. It is not even cooked in the

188

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

houses for fear that the bear’s blood would be spilled while carrying it where a woman might step. If there is bear meat to be prepared, this is done at the edge of the village either by a man or some old woman of postmenstrual age. Also in the matter of food, the menstruating woman must not pick berries and eat them, or her head will shake uncontrollably when she is old. Similarly she cannot even pick flowers to serve as the patterns for fancy work while she is in the same condition; should she do so, her hands would eventually grow numb. Finally, among the dangers of menstruation, we should mention that there is a taboo on sexual inter¬ course for fifteen days after the first menstrual seclusion. This applies most mean¬ ingfully if the girl has already been married, as is sometimes the case. Recurrent menstruation. The monthly periods of menstruation which are said to be caused by nocturnal visits of the “alder man” last for varying periods of from three to five days. A certain amount of pain is associated with the process and women differ in their reactions. Moss (Drepanocludus capillifolius Warnst) or bundles of common grass are used as sanitary pads. These are held in position by the trousers only. When discarded, they are placed near the women’s toilet on the upper branches of willows, but never on the ground. During the recurrent periods of menstruation, the women eat no fresh food. Painting the cheekbones red and eyes black is normal procedure, but there is no use of special menstrual equipment such as head bands or a drinking tube. A married woman does not move away from her husband when sleeping together on the bench of the house. She relinquishes her share of the common blanket, however, and should there be only one, she sleeps in her parka. If a second blanket is available, she shares it with her daughter at this time. Sexual intercourse is taboo during the monthly periods. When a period has ended, the woman takes a bath inside the house, applying water all over her body from a birch bark basket by means of a thin caribou skin wash rag. She also washes her hair using some urine as soap. These repeated baths taken by women of child-bearing age are said to make them smell differently from men, but almost any smell is acceptable to the Ingalik. The woman also hangs her blanket outside for a day or two following the menstrual period. To the menopause people pay little or no attention. Women are said not to become sick at that time and it is noted that this change in life occurs at various ages. Males in relation to puberty. Unlike the situation in some Athapaskan groups, there is no “spirit search” or isolation for boys in connection with puberty. As has already been described, boys may be ceremonially inducted into the privilege of wearing labrets on the last night of a partner’s potlatch. The boy, however, is generally in late adolescence at the time. More significant perhaps is the “putting down” for a name which also takes place at the partner’s potlatch and generally at an age shortly after a boy has reached puberty. Quite different from the actions possibly correlated with puberty that have been mentioned above is the ceremonial cleansing of young boys about six years old.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

189

Once or twice during the segregation year which follows the onset of menstruation, a girl “in the corner” will purify the hands of a boy toward whom she is friendly, often her own brother or her sister’s son. Small boys are presumed to have lost their luck for hunting by contamination with various kinds of dirt ranging from feces to charcoal. When the girl wishes to do so, she tells her mother to call the boy she likes. When he comes, he crawls halfway under a mat of the girl’s room and puts his hands over the edge of her water basket with his fingers, but not the thumbs, in the water. “Steam” is said to rise from the tips of the fingers which are contami¬ nated, and the girl “drinks” off the “steam” in the water at each finger tip with her bone tube. Thus the boy is cleansed. When the boy comes out, the mother of the girl asks him if he knows the reason why the girl performed the ceremony. When he says “no,” she explains and tells him that he must never touch anything “dirty” again with his hands if he wants to be a successful hunter. When a girl goes “into the corner” for the first time, her father must observe taboos very much like those he has to carry out following the birth of his child. He cannot fish or hunt for twenty days or undertake any kind of work. There is no restriction on his walking, however, and he does not put salmon skins on the bottom of his boots as he does when a child is born. He may go in and out of the house as he pleases. During this period of twenty days he wears old clothes and eats no fresh food. He takes a bath under the bench of the kashim every six days and when the period is over, he goes through the performance of purification by having someone perform magical incantations like those following a birth. He then goes out hunting and does not return until he can bring food which will be cooked for him. If the father is a rich man, as has been previously noted, he may “put down” a gift of food for the men in the kashim in honor of his daughter. This is done following her release from the year of seclusion. The mother takes the food to the kashim on any ordinary evening but not during the period of a great ceremony. Marriage

The approach to marriage. As a boy grows up, his natural interest in the opposite sex leads him into patterns of behavior which suggest to his parents that they must consider possibilities for his marriage. The indication lies chiefly in the efforts that he devotes to accumulating the basic tools and paraphernalia of a man who is to be the head of a household. A girl’s interest develops similarly as she is encouraged to learn the complicated skills which are essential for a responsible wife and a mother of a family. It is common knowledge that in most cases the mothers determine whom their sons and daughters will marry. A woman does talk the matter over with her husband and her child, but the father is not expected to have any great interest in the matter, while the future bride or bridegroom is subject more to pressure and persuasion than offered a chance for an independent decision. Nonetheless, numerous factors in¬ fluence the ultimate course of events. The strength of character of the personalities

190

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

involved is important, as well as the opportunities for marriages of which both sets of parents will highly approve. Whatever the situation, it is clear that the role of the mother is a dominant one. Although mothers try to marry their offspring to individuals of their choice, there is one rule which governs their behavior—a husband must be found for an older daughter before a younger is given in marriage. Mothers choose a spouse for a child almost entirely on their judgment of indi¬ vidual capacities rather than relationship, except that a person must not marry one’s own or one’s parent’s siblings, and a person should not marry a first cousin of any kind. Sometimes cousin marriage does occur, however, in which case as far as the relationship factor is concerned, one type of cousin is as good or bad as another. Curiously, there is a tradition that long ago cousin marriage was a preferential form of mating in order to keep the family together—but this same tradition in¬ cludes a favorable view of brother-sister unions. When an engagement has been contracted, ordinarily some time before a mar¬ riage, it is expected that the mother of the boy may make a parka for the bride from the skins of black ducks. In order for this to be done, the boy who is anticipating marriage must manage to kill about fifty of these birds, a number which it may take about three summers to obtain. This symbolic bird skin parka is commonly worn between the undershirt and the ordinary parka and consequently is only seen when a young woman goes for wood or takes a short walk outside the house and does not add a covering parka. Black duck skin parkas, ornamented at intervals with the white feathers from above the eyes of the duck and trimmed with wolverine and wolf fur, require a great deal of effort in their manufacture because of the long time that is required to sew the pieces together. Consequently, although almost every girl would like such a garment, only a few are rewarded. The nuptial union. The account of a typical marriage commences with a boy who has reached an age when he begins to kill all kinds of large animals, such as the caribou, the wolf, the wolverine, and various others. He also makes his first fish trap and starts to build a canoe with family assistance. Likewise he develops the technique of carving spoons and plates, afterward painting them and giving them to his mother to keep until such time as he needs them. His father and mother watch the boy and see that he has something on his mind. The boy’s mother, wise in such matters, knows of a girl who she believes works hard. She starts to talk about this girl to her husband saying, “I wish she was for my boy. I wonder if her mother likes him.” The father, noncommittal, answers, “Maybe the girl’s mother likes some other boy,” and continues, “You ask her.” The woman visits the girl’s mother and says, “I would like your daughter for my boy.” The woman replies, “My girl is no good. She doesn’t work well and has not learned to make things properly.” With this answer the boy’s mother returns home. That evening the girl’s mother talks to her husband and tells him of the woman who has spoken about their daughter. When she has finished the husband says, “The girl is not much good and will probably have no husband,” ending with the comment, “Now, it is up to you.”

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

191

Later, when the girl’s mother is alone with her daughter, she tells her that the boy’s mother wants her for her son. To this information she adds the statement that her daughter does not work hard enough. “The boy is pretty good but you aren t,’ she says, closing with a warning that she is not to talk to the boy when she is alone with him. When the girl has had time to reflect on the situation, she thinks, “I don’t know how to make anything,” and she begins consciously to improve her household skills. When her mother is about to make a garment the girl says, “I’ll make it for you.” “But do you know how?” her mother asks. “Yes, I have seen you do it.” The girl tans a caribou skin and shows it to her mother. “That is fine work. Where did you learn it?” asks the mother. “From you,” replies the girl. The mother says it is the best piece of tanning she has ever seen, and shows her daughter how to cut the pattern of a parka, and then goes over details of the pattern of a parka, and then goes over details of the sewing. Then they make a pair of boots. When the young woman is confident of proficiency she decides to make a parka for her father. Before he leaves in the morning she takes his measurements with charcoal, calling her mother to look and see if she has done it right. The sewing takes three days and her mother examines the work as it proceeds. Then the girl tells her father to try the parka on. He pulls it over his head, stretches his arms out, bends them in, and says the parka is fine. When he takes it off, his daugh¬ ter adds the trimming. As time goes on, the young girl makes all kinds of things including fancy baskets which are easy since she learned to weave when young. Soon she comes to the age when she spends a year of seclusion “in the corner.” Some time after she has been released, the boy’s mother who has spoken for her tells her son to inform his grandmother, or any older woman, that he is going to take the girl. He says, “All right.” The boy announces his intentions to the grandmother and she communicates the information to the mother of the girl. The latter, no matter how much she favors the marriage, responds by saying that her daughter is no good, and, further, that the grandmother should tell the boy that she is no good and that there are better girls for him. When the young man receives the message he knows its meaning. Were he re¬ jected, the refusal would be directly stated, but even acceptance causes some anxiety. In the evening when all the people have gone inside their homes, the boy goes to the door of the girl’s house. He hears people talking inside and he stands there persuading himself to go in. When he has screwed up his courage, he enters and takes a quick look around. The girl is sitting in the corner and he goes there, resting on the edge of the bench beside her. The young woman turns her back on him.

192

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

The mother says nothing for awhile. Then she speaks to the newcomer, “You’re a good boy. Why do you come here to take that girl? She is no good. Your friends will not look at you if you do.” The boy says not a word. The girl’s father says nothing. Finally the mother adds, “Don’t come here any more. That girl will be no good for you.” When it is time to go to bed, the lights in the clay lamps are all put out by the mother. The boy remains where he is and in the darkness slides closer to the girl and tries to talk to her. “What do you think?” he asks, but the girl says not a word. “Can I have you or has someone spoken to you already?” The girl remains silent. The boy sits beside the girl all night trying to talk to her, but she will not answer. They neither sleep nor do anything else. After the people of the household get up in the morning and the fire is made, the boy leaves and goes to the kashim. He stays there a little while and then goes to his mother’s house. “Why do you come here? Why don’t you go out hunting and look after your traps? Do you think you are going to eat? You can’t eat here.” That is what she tells her son. The boy goes out and takes down his over boots from the cache. He goes to the kashim and puts them on. Then he spends the whole day at his fish traps, not re¬ turning until it begins to be dark. He goes to the kashim and takes off his boots. He is grateful for the fire which is already burning there. When he has warmed himself, he takes his boots and hangs them under the cache again. Then he goes to his mother’s house, and his mother asks him what the girl’s mother has said. He tells her. “Did you talk to the girl too?” “Yes, but she wouldn’t say anything. Neither ‘No’ nor ‘Yes.’ I won’t go there again. The girl will not talk and her mother does not want me.” The mother calms him down and persuades him to try again. The boy is hungry but his mother says that if he wants to get the girl he should not eat. Knowing what is expected of him, he agrees and goes back to the kashim where he sits on the bench with the other boys. When food is brought in, he tells them he has already eaten. They ask where he was the night before and he replies that he slept at his mother’s house. His companions retort knowingly that it is a long time since he slept in his mother’s house and they want to know if he is going to sleep there again. “Yes,” he says. The boy eats nothing. He sits there thinking about the girl. Before long the old people leave the kashim and go to their homes for the night. He follows after them and walks to his mother’s house. She tells him to return to the girl and that if the latter’s mother speaks to him, not to move. The boy goes back to the girl’s house and this time enters without hesitating. He sits in the same place, while the girl’s mother talks to her husband and pays no

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

193

attention to him. Finally, after what seems a long time, she says, “I told you the girl is no good. Did you hear me? How many times am I going to tell you this?” The boy remains still and the girl’s mother tells him to go out and not come back, but he does not move. Again everyone goes to bed and the lights are put out. Once more he tries to talk to the girl. “Are you going to speak to me tonight?” but the girl says nothing. “Why don’t -you talk? If you don’t like me, I’ll go.” He moves away a little. The two of them sit there for a second night, the girl still saying nothing following the instructions of her mother. The boy thinks, “I’ll not come back here again,” and leaves. After he informs his mother of his disappointment, he expresses his resentment. “Why do you tell me to take that girl?” “She is a good girl and will take care of you. I have watched her since she was little.” The boy’s mother goes to her cache and comes back in a little while with a big bundle of caribou skins which she unties and spreads out. Inside are a parka and other items of women’s clothing. She looks to see if everything is all right and then rolls the clothing up again. This done, the mother tells some older woman in the house to take these things over to the home of the girl. If the “grandmother” is too old to carry them, a younger person does it for her, leaving the bundle at the door. The grandmother brings it inside and puts it beside the girl. Then she asks the latter’s mother if the girl is going to marry the boy. The girl’s mother replies, “I told him she was no good,” which means “yes.” With this answer the old woman unties her bundle and takes out the clothes and helps the girl to put them on. There is a set of combination trousers and footwear along with the parka. When the young woman is all dressed up, the grandmother stretches out the caribou skins beside her. Then the old woman returns home and informs the family of what has happened. It is still morning. The mother tells her son to cut the wood for the girl’s house when he returns to it. Encouraged, he does so right away and goes inside to see the girl dressed up in her new clothes. He sits beside her for a little while but she does not look at him. Then he goes outside and, taking her father’s sled, sets off for a load of wood. This he brings back and piles near the smoke hole of her house. He hastens back for a second load and deposits this one beside her house. Still a third load he accumulates, and this one he hauls to the kashim. Weary and hungry he returns to the home of the girl. The bed is freshly fixed at her place on the bench and he takes his place beside her. Soon the girl’s mother gives her some new plates containing “ice cream” and some dry beaver meat which has been cooked. The boy and girl are sitting about a yard apart and the mother puts the food between them. The boy says to himself, “I’m not going to put my hand in the food first.” The

194

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

girl is thinking the same thing. They wait a long time. Finally, the boy who is tired of waiting puts on his mittens and goes outside not having touched any of the food. He goes to his mother’s house and she questions him about each detail that has happened and he tells her. “Do you think you are going to stay there right away?” she asks without expect¬ ing an answer. “Do you think you’re going to sleep there tonight? Yrou’re not!” Then she asks again if either touched the food, and when he answers, “No,” she says it was the same when she married his father. “Tonight,” she goes on, “you sleep in the kashim and every day you will go to the girl’s house. Her mother will give you all kinds of food in the morning and evening but not until the girl touches it first, whether that is three, or four, or five, or six, or seven days, not until then can you get your blanket.” Thus the ordeal continues, the boy visiting his fish traps and the girl carrying water for his mother in the evening. The boy continues to sleep in the kashim. One evening when the boy returns to the girl’s house, her mother hands them caribou meat and “ice cream.” The girl’s mother says to the boy, “You had better eat. You have had nothing for a long time.” She is almost crying because the boy is so hungry. The girl is sitting, as always, with her back to the boy. He says nothing. Neither of them eats. When the boy returns to his mother’s house, she asks if he has eaten. “No,” he replies. “Why don’t you eat?” “I hate to put my hand in the food first.” The mother tells her son to ask the girl to come to their house in the morning. The boy goes to the kashim to sleep. The next morning the boy visits the girl as usual. Again her mother tries to persuade him to eat giving him some blackfish. Still he will not eat. He tells the girl that his mother wishes to see her, but she does not answer. Returning to his mother’s house he tells her what has happened but she says nothing. Soon the girl arrives. The boy is seated near his mother and the girl comes and sits near by. His mother brings them a little dry caribou fat and asks them to eat. The boy thinks, “It looks good. I’ll take a piece,” but then he waits for the girl. The girl will not eat, however, so he puts on his mittens and goes out and does not return all day. At nightfall, when he comes in to the kashim, he changes his boots and goes directly to the girl’s house. As before, the girl’s mother gives them food, perhaps jackfish this time, and tells him to eat. He looks at the food and thinks, “I guess I’ll eat—it is too long—I’ll soon starve.” He takes a little of the food and eats it. The girl is still ashamed and waits a long time. Finally, she reaches around behind her for the plate and takes some food. Soon afterward the boy returns to his own home and says to his mother, without her asking, “We have eaten.” “Who put a hand in the dish first?” “I did.”

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

195

Then the mother inquires how much food the girl had eaten and what had happened to the plate in which it was served. He says they only ate a little and gave the rest to an old woman in the house to finish. The mother tells her son how much she has always thought of the two of them being married, ever since they both were small. He asks her whether or not he should sleep in the kashim and his mother replies that the choice is his. Later in the evening the boy goes to his bride’s house and her mother gives them “ice cream.” They both eat only a little and the boy says to the girl, “I am finished. I shall eat no more.” She gives the plate to her mother who puts it away for them to eat later. The boy talks to himself. He says out loud, “I guess I’ll go to the kashim,” but he wants to sleep with the girl. They both sit there and don’t talk at all. Soon everyone goes to bed and the only lamp burning is the girl’s. He tells his bride to fix the bed. She waits a long time, thinking. Then she finally stretches out a caribou skin. The boy takes off his boots but the girl removes none of her clothing. She blows out the light and they lie down. The boy tries to talk to his wife. “Why don’t you speak to me?” “I’m ashamed. I never talked to boys before.” “But I never talked to girls before.” “Mother told me not to talk, but I’ll answer you.” That night the girl does not take off her clothes. The next night the girl does take off her clothes and they cohabit. When the young wife has a menstrual period she tells her husband to sleep in the kashim for four days. She says she will not eat any fresh fish and her husband wants to know why, since he is taken by surprise. She simply says she does not want it, and he offers to tell his mother if she is ill but she insists it is not necessary. During the day the new husband sees a friend who is already married and con¬ fides in him what has just happened. The other boy laughs saying, “You’ve got a tough woman. She won’t let you sleep with her.” Then he suggests that the next time the girl is ill she will tell him to sleep in the kashim for two months. Thus, after making fun of him for awhile, the friend explains that all women are periodically sick after staying “in the corner,” but that he must do as the girl says or he will not catch many fish. The new husband remains in the kashim four days without going home at all. When he is told that he can return, he asks his wife when they are in bed why he had to sleep in the kashim, so she repeats the simple facts. When he wants to know the details she refuses although he says that he will have sexual intercourse with her if she does not. To this proposal she answers “no,” but tells him more of what her mother has told her. In the approach to a marriage, it will be noted that a mother never speaks well of her own children. If she did, all the people would think she was fooling them. They would suspect her of looking out for every chance to marry them off. A woman who does not like a boy may have trouble with him even after she has made her attitude clear. The boy can come into the house night after night, arguing and

196

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

fighting with the mother. In such a case, it is not impossible that she will pick up a blazing stick and hit him with it. The length of time during which the boy and girl refuse to accept food varies according to the character of the individual. Whereas the ideal behavior involves restraint for a period of. about five days, actually, few boys will hold out more than two. Seldom, however, will a girl break down and eat before the boy does. Since she is “chief of the food” she is expected to see that her husband is fed first, and should she take food before him it would be a bad sign. If she did do so, the boy would be justified in walking out and not returning. Bowls of food which are offered to the young couple but which they refuse are always handed to some old woman in the house to eat the contents. To have the same food offered twice to the boy and girl before they have eaten any is considered dangerous and there is a story relating to this situation. Once, long ago, a boy who was courting a girl went the prescribed four days with¬ out food. Then he ate some of the food and his mother-in-law put the rest away. The next morning she served him what remained in the same bowl. The boy looked at the food. There was some black stuff on top of it. He thought, “What is the matter with this?” He ate a little but it did not taste very good. His wife looked at it skeptically. She held up a little piece and said, “What’s the matter with it? If you ate it, I shall eat it too.” So she took some but it did not taste very good. The young husband went out hunting but he felt weak. He came back without having killed anything. He had not gone far in search of game because he lacked the strength. When he reached home and had taken off his boots, all he could do was to lie down. He could not stand up any more. His wife asked him what was the matter. He told her. She explained to his mother. He did not go to the kashim that evening, he was so weak. The girl’s father wondered why the boy did not come into the kashim so he went home and saw his son-in-law lying down. He asked his wife what was the matter and she said the boy was sick. Then he inquired, “Did you give him back the same food this morning that you gave him last night?” Then, when she answered in the affirmative, he said, “You shouldn’t have done that. You should have given the remainder of the food to an old woman. There is nothing I can do.” The boy became weaker and weaker but they could not help him and at last he died. That’s all. A father tells his son not to have sexual intercourse with his wife for the first year as it is not supposed to be a good thing for a woman to have a child too soon after her marriage. Many women do not have a child, but only a few because pa¬ rental instructions are followed. After the marriage, the bride makes a single pillow and she and her husband sleep with their heads on it. It is stated that no special relation of intimacy or mutual obligation between the parents of the bride and the parents of the groom results from a marriage. Residence. A mother usually chooses a girl in her own or a near-by village for her son, a procedure which has the obvious advantage that she knows the girl well. Since other factors enter into the arrangement of marriages, including the lack of

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

197

available girls, the proximity of families is not always the determining factor. In an exceptional circumstance, a man, remarrying of his own volition, might take a woman as distantly removed as another Athapaskan group or, even more rarely, an Eskimo, but either of these choices would be almost impossible in the case of a boy. Following a marriage, the young bridegroom spends one season, either winter or summer (but usually the latter since ideally all marriages are consummated in the spring), in his mother-in-law’s house and his wife shares in the use of her mother’s cache. When that season is over, the newly married couple do not move to the fish camp with the bride’s parents but go to live in the house of the bridegroom’s mother where the girl will use her mother-in-law’s cache. The length of time that the new family remains with the husband’s parents depends largely on the young people’s ability to achieve economic independence. Usually this occurs within two to four years, and their goal is to establish them¬ selves in some other place as soon as they have a child of their own. The postparental residence is almost certainly to be in the girl’s village or in one at no great distance. Unless the young woman is among her female intimates, it is notorious that trouble may be expected between her and other women of the village. After the first child is born, the husband must make a fish cache for his wife and they must prepare to live on their own fish thereafter. This is one of the most difficult periods for the young people and they are forced to work very hard. The new mother tries to obtain as many fish “songs” as she can in order to make the task of providing food less difficult. When her own cache is first built, the girl asks her husband’s mother to put in the first fish. At this request, the older woman goes to the girl’s mother and tells her what she has been asked to do. “Shall I—or will you?” she asks. “It doesn’t matter,” replies the other. “What kind of ‘song’ have you?” she continues, attempting to gain the greatest advantage for her daughter-in-law. “I have the Canada jay ‘song,’” replies the girl’s mother. “That’s good, I have the same.” Before they are through, the boy’s mother decides she will help her daughter-inlaw. The girl takes some dog salmon—the commonest of all fish—from the smoke house and spreads them around the floor of the cache leaving the center bare. When she tells the boy’s mother she has done this, the latter comes and, picking up one of the fish, sings her “song” and blows on the salmon four times. Then she puts it down in the center of the floor and tells her daughter-in-law to pile the fish which she will catch on top of it. Further, she says without fail to leave that first fish where it was placed so that there will always be plenty more. The girl follows her advice. All winter the girl continues to take fish for eating from either her own mother’s cache or that of her husband’s mother and rarely takes one from her own. This is because it is very important that she keep her own cache full of fish the first year. If this is done, it will help to keep it full always. The next year the girl uses her own fish.

198

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Should either member of a young married couple die, it is expected that the survivor will take up residence with his own mother or with the mother of the de¬ ceased partner, but, if the mother and the mother-in-law are dead, the survivor may continue to occupy the same house. Child marriage. A rare kind of marriage takes place when a boy’s mother badly wants a girl for her son. Before either of them is of the age to assume the economic responsibilities of such a relationship, the woman arranges with the mother of the girl to take the child to live with her and her son. When they have arrived at her home, the mother-in-law dresses up the child in new clothes but there is no ceremonial offering of food as in a regular marriage. Her son simply sleeps with the little girl. The boy and girl both work for his mother and she tells them to be on watch for the time when the girl must go “in the corner.” When the girl tells her motherin-law that the time has arrived, the latter tells her son that he must sleep in the kashim for twenty days. The girl goes through the regular seclusion of a first men¬ struation while the boy goes through the same procedure as when a wife gives birth to a baby. When the twenty days have passed, the young husband talks to his girl wife once in a while but does not have sexual intercourse with her. During the summer he sleeps in the house, but in the wintertime he spends the nights in the kashim. While the young wife is in seclusion, she sews for her husband, his mother cau¬ tioning her not to put knots at the end of her thread. The girl says that she thinks the thread will pull through but she is shown how to leave an inch at the beginning and then sew over it. The other end of the thread is turned back and sewed through holes previously made. Her mother-in-law knows, of course, that if the girl while in seclusion made a knot in her husband’s clothes he would catch nothing because it would be the same as putting a board in front of his trap. Her husband is not expected to have sexual intercourse with another woman all during the year of her seclusion. When the time has passed, the girl follows the regular procedure with regard to cleanliness. If her husband wants to sleep with her immediately, his mother says he cannot until she tells him. He is thus forced to relinquish the privilege for an additional fifteen days. Remarriage. Since most people do not live to an old age, the remarriage of both men and women is common. A widower’s remarriage is controlled by his motherin-law with whom he may be expected to live after his wife’s decease. She calls him “my son” and she is expected to assist him in due course to find a proper wife out¬ side the categories of sisters, aunts, and cousins originally prohibited. To these relations, however, are added the sisters of his deceased wife, for it is said that were a man to marry such a woman, it would be like marrying a sister, and that she would die like his previous wife. Despite this evidence for the prohibition of the sororate, it may occur. When a year or two have passed since the death of the man’s wife, the motherin-law may start a conversation with him like this:

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

199

“Is that all you have to do, just to stay single? I would like to see you marry someone, but I don’t want to see you go away. You have been like a son to me. My girls are not very good, but you know them. If you would like one, it is all right with me.” The young widower thinks about what has been said and goes to his own mother’s house and tells her. She asserts that his mother-in-law is right and says, “Marry your wife’s younger sister.” To this her son answers, “If I marry ‘sister,’ everyone will laugh,” but the mother answers, “No, it is an old custom from the days of our grandfathers.” The young man decides that it is probably the best thing to do because the family will be good to him. He returns to the house of his mother-in-law but she is not at home. Therefore he takes the opportunity to ask one of his sisters-in-law if she heard what her mother said. To this the girl does not reply because she is ashamed to discuss such a subject with her brother-in-law. He reacts by saying, “All right, if you don’t want to,” and leaves the house. Later when the widower tells his own mother what happened, she explains that any girl would act that way because marriages of this kind are relatively rare. She advises him, if he wishes to marry the girl, to behave with her as he did with his wife. The boy goes back to his mother-in-law’s. The next time she gives him food, instead of sitting beside her as usual, he does not touch it but gets up as though to go out. After taking two steps, however, he sits down beside his wife’s sister. Watch¬ ing this performance, his mother-in-law says, “I’m not going to say anything be¬ cause it would be like scolding my dead daughter.” That night when everything has quieted down, he talks to the girl, “Your mother said nothing. I guess I’ll take you.” Then the girl reports that her mother has talked to her and said that she is to accept him as her husband; consequently, she agrees. They sit up and talk all night. The next morning, the man returns to his own mother’s house and tells her what has occurred. The mother says that she will bring new clothes for the girl as she did for his first wife. Her son announces that he will haul wood, and the mother says that he can do as he likes about that. The future husband then collects one load of firewood and brings it outside his mother-in-law’s house, after which he hauls a second load for the kashim. This done, he goes into the house and finds his future wife dressed up in new clothes. He goes right to the girl and sits down. Her mother brings them food but they do not touch it for awhile. Then he takes a little and the girl does so likewise. By one night afterward, they behave like any married couple. As one will later see, the remarriage of a widower symbolically recapitu¬ lates the procedure of a usual first marriage. Older widowers may marry very young girls, the disparity of age being dis¬ regarded. Obviously, wealthy men and those of influence such as a shaman have the advantage. On the other hand, most women do not like to have a powerful shaman marry their daughters. This is because it is believed that such a man has

200

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

jealous competitors who constantly keep a shaman and his family in danger of death by attacks of magic. A young widow generally goes to her own mother’s house to live after her hus¬ band has died. In the course of time, if some man wishes to marry her and speaks to her father, the latter will tell him to ask the widow’s mother-in-law who controls the matter. The suitor then requests some old woman to speak for him, and gen¬ erally much talk follows between this intermediary and the girl’s mother-in-law. If the latter is satisfied, she then asks her daughter-in-law if she wishes to marry the man. The widow talks about the situation with her own parents but both agree that since her mother-in-law approves she should marry the man. They add that it would be most unfortunate for her to marry anyone of whom her mother-in-law did not approve for she would fight all the time with such a husband. The marriage of a widow to her deceased husband’s brother also occurs. The levirate, unlike the sororate, is relatively common and is not determined by the surviving marriage partner but by the widow’s mother-in-law. Sometimes a young widow arranges for her own remarriage by an unusual pro¬ cedure. If she has good “songs,” she may assist some other woman in giving birth to a child. After it is born the widow may remark to the mother, “I guess I’ll have this boy for a husband.” The mother hears what she says but does not reply. Never¬ theless, it is understood between them that the widow will ultimately claim the boy to be her husband. When the child grows up, he may revolt at this arrangement and go away for a year or so. When he returns, however, he must marry the woman if his mother wishes. Should both mother and father agree with the boy, however, they may compen¬ sate the widow by payment. It does not follow that the boy may oppose the mar¬ riage, however, since there is an advantage in having such a wife, both because of her experience and the fact that older people receive a larger share of fish and other gifts when they are handed out on any occasion of distribution. Polygyny and divorce. A certain number of Ingalik men, many of whom are rich and powerful, acquire a second wife to live with them in the same household as that of the first. In order to accomplish this, a husband must have the permission of his first wife, a sanction which can be difficult, or even more than difficult, to obtain. Reputedly, persuading a first wife takes a long time but will vary in effec¬ tiveness according to her personality. A husband who has made up his mind tells his wife and then keeps on asking and asking. Sometimes a woman agrees and then changes her mind. Consequently, the next time she says “Yes,” the husband does not allow any interval between her assent and his second marriage. The second wife is taken without any ceremony, the mother’s permission having been previously given. The polygynous husband stays only one night in his new wife’s house and then brings her home. The first wife retains her location nearest the door on the bench, while the second wife occupies the same bench at the back

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

201

side of the house, the husband having the position between them. Should the house be occupied by three families, with the polygynous one occupying the sleeping bench at the back, the first wife would have the choice of position on either side of the husband and the new member of the household would be assigned to the other. Ultimately the husband builds a cache for his second wife, as each woman must have her own. Also, each has her own blankets, cooking equipment, and other household paraphernalia. It takes some time before a satisfactory adjustment can be established between the two wives. The women generally fight a good deal at first, jealousy being a commonplace factor responsible for dissension. Theoretically, the first wife is mistress of the family but personality factors affect the actual solu¬ tion. A description of a typical plural marriage will be illuminating, but it must be remembered that in such unions considerable variation is possible. When the second wife is brought home, the first one is mad. She faces the corner and will not eat. The husband goes off to the kashim. Then the first wife turns to the woman whom she regards as an intruder. “Who told you to come in here? I never told you to come here. Go home!” The second wife continues with her work and says nothing, an attitude which only irritates the speaker more and she becomes so angry that she picks up a stick and hits the other woman. The second wife manages to pull the stick away from the first but does not fight back with it. The first wife, without a weapon, yanks at the other’s hair and her victim reciprocates. A hair-pulling contest follows which can hurt quite a lot. The two women scratch each other as well, but the action of the second wife is more defensive than that of the first. She tries to protect herself and finally the first wife becomes exhausted and stops. In the evening the husband comes home from the kashim. There is only an un¬ certain truce between the two wives and he stands between them to prevent further conflict. The first wife sits with her head facing the corner. Her husband grabs her and tells her to stop behaving that way. She only becomes mad, however, and fights with her husband who protects himself until the woman is worn out by her efforts. The first wife refuses to eat and finally everyone goes to bed tired. The next morning the atmosphere is a little more peaceful. The first wife goes out and when she returns the second wife goes to her and tells her to eat, but she will not do so or even speak to the second wife who gives food to the husband. When he is through, he goes to his fish trap. Then the first wife eats by herself, and when the second tries to talk to her, she tells the latter to keep still. In the evening the second wife asks the first, “Shall we have some loche for supper?” The first wife does not answer. The second wife goes out to the cache, which they must share in common for a time, and brings in food and cooks it. The second wife tries to be kind to the first but when she starts to carry the dinner to the husband in the kashim, the first wife jumps off the bench, snatches the plate from her, and throws it into the air. The women then commence fighting again.

202

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

The first wife takes a stick from the fire and hits the second with it who becomes furious. “What do you hit me for?” she yells. “I didn’t come here by myself. Your hus¬ band begged me to come. I’ll go home!” She starts toward the door but the first wife hits her again and the second fights back. They tear each other’s clothes and attack each other so savagely that their women neighbors come in and stop them. When the two women have been quieted down, the second wife returns to her own home and tells her mother what has happened. The latter consoles with her, “I knew it would and I’m sorry. You stay here.” The husband in the kashim knows that something has happened because no one brings his supper. He goes home and finds that his second wife has left. This makes him angry but he does nothing. In the morning when the husband gets up he wants his first wife to cook some¬ thing. “I am hungry. I am going to the fish trap,” he complains. The first wife warms up what the second wife had cooked the night before. Her husband eats and leaves. The first wife, left alone, begins to worry. She thinks, “I wonder if the other woman would come back. She might be a big help.” After a while she takes her mittens and walks over to the house of the second wife’s mother. There she sees the girl with whom she has been fighting. She moves over to where the latter is sitting and, putting her arms around her, kisses her. She tells the girl that she had to fight but that she is sorry and she wants her to come back. The second wife re¬ plies that she suspects the first wife only wants her to return so that she can fight with her some more. Persuasion follows, and finally the second wife states, in a loud voice so her mother can hear, that she will go if her mother tells her to. At this point, the mother turns to the first wife and says, “I thought you would be good to my girl. If you fight, it is a bad thing, and if you do it once more she can¬ not stay with you.” The first wife replies by saying that all women fight when a polygynous house¬ hold is first established. The two wives leave the house and, after returning home, go out and haul a lot of wood together. Then the first wife tells the second to go into the cache and pick out the best whitefish. She tells her exactly where they are. When the second wife has returned with them the first says, “I guess it is time to make the fire. Our hus¬ band will soon be home. Let’s play a joke on him.” She tells the second wife to hide behind a pile of grass which has been brought into the entry way. The other women in the house laugh and indicate their approval. The women watch out for the husband and when he comes, the second wife hides. When he stands up after crawling through the door he sees his first wife sitting with her head facing the corner. He feels sad and takes off his boots. Then the second wife comes in, and going to the first, touches her on the shoulder and asks, “Are you sleeping yet?”

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

203

“No.” “Then let’s get up and work.” The husband is surprised. The two wives laugh. Everyone laughs. The husband laughs. The two wives kiss each other. Then they show the husband the second wife’s parka which was badly torn that morning and say they will not sew it. The husband says to the first wife, “You started the trouble, you sew it,” but she re¬ fuses, so the husband puts the parka in the cache. Having settled things at home the husband becomes enthusiastic and makes eight blackfish traps, four for each wife. On one day he says, “I shall go to ‘second wife’s’ traps.” When he brings the fish home, she goes out and carries them to the cache. The next day it is the other wife’s turn. Sometimes the two women help each other, however. In the spring after the ice in the rivers goes out, the husband constructs two whitefish traps, one for each. Also, he makes a cache for his second wife. Again when the salmon run, he builds two traps and follows the same procedure in visit¬ ing them. When the husband hunts and brings back ducks in his canoe, the women go down and divide them, each taking an equal share. The same is true in the case of a caribou. Each takes an equal share of the meat and the skin is given to the man. Also each wife cooks with her own clay pots, a little food from each being put into the husband’s bowl. Either wife may make “ice cream” and in that case the whole family shares this treat. Occasionally a man acquires a second wife by the process known as the levirate. If his brother dies, the latter’s wife may come to live with him and his family. This situation leads to intimacy, and after a year or two his own wife may accept her husband’s sister-in-law as a permanent member of a polygamous household. It is sometimes stated that men never have more than two wives, but there is evidence that on extremely rare occasions a few men have had a larger number. For instance, there is the story, reported as true, that a long time ago there was a fellow who had five wives at one time and seven at another. This man was a great fighter and he obtained his women by raiding. One of the acts of prowess which is attributed to this remarkable male is that he could throw five dentalia shells out of the smoke hole of his house and then jump out after them so fast that he could catch the shells before they reached the ground. He had made the smoke hole of his house equal to the length of his roof so that his enemies could not trap him. Families break up sometimes if the spouses do not treat each other properly. Divorces are not common, however. If, for example, a girl walks on her husband’s clothing, he may leave her for a time. When he returns, he tries to persuade her to behave as she should, but if he is unsuccessful, he will not stay and the girl will return to her mother. A woman with children is not apt to leave her husband per¬ manently. Wife exchange. The custom of husbands offering their wives to each other on special occasions, such as when a man makes a visit to a distant village without his wife, is known to the Ingalik as taking place among the Eskimo but is rarely,

204

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

if ever, practiced between themselves. At least, if it is done, the relationship is considered extraordinary. This exceptional behavior is said to exist only in a case such as is illustrated by the following account. Sometimes a woman is unusually attractive to men and after she is married a number still pursue her, fighting or wrestling in the attempt to possess her. Finally, an unusually attractive looking man comes along and says to the woman, “I guess I’ll take you.” The woman answers, “I’ve got a husband.” But somehow this man makes the woman start to think about him. Then she decides to go with this particular man. He is waiting, and when he sees her and asks her again, she agrees. “All right,” he says. “You go and get your outer clothes and sewing bag. That’s all you need.” The woman goes into her house, picks up her sewing bag and hides it under her parka as she leaves. Then she joins the man and goes away with him. When the husband returns home he discovers that his wife has left. He asks his mother if she knows anything. Then he returns to the kashim and inquires about the visitor who has recently left. He concludes that the latter has taken his wife. The next day the deserted husband sets out after the man, and, arriving at his village, challenges him to wrestle. His wife in the meantime leaves the house and hides elsewhere. After the fight he tries to find his spouse but he cannot do so and after two days he returns home. His mother tells him to marry some other woman and ultimately he follows her advice. After several years have passed, the husband whose wife had gone off happens to go to the village of the wife-stealer. He waits in the kashim for this man to come in. When the wife-stealer enters, he sees the husband and walks right up to him, addressing him as “cousin” and inviting him to stay at his home. That evening the woman who had run away brings in two dishes of food. The first she gives to her present husband and the other to her former one. The girl sits down as usual and waits for the plates to be emptied. “We’ll eat my food first,” says the wife-stealer. They eat a little and when they are through with the dish, proceed to share that given to the former husband, finally returning the empty containers to the wife who takes them home. Then the two men talk. “We will be friends,” says the wife-stealer. “I’ve been looking for you to show up for a long time.” “You did me a great wrong,” replies the former husband. “But you have another wife now,” says the other, amicably. They go on talking for a while and at last retire to the house of the woman. There the wife gives them more food, on one plate this time, and the three eat together. Later the wife-stealer asks the former husband, “Are you going to sleep in the kashim or here?” “I don’t know.”

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

205

Then the wife-stealer says, “I’ll sleep in the kashim. You sleep here.” The husband then cohabits with his former wife, spending two nights in the vil¬ lage and becoming good friends with the man who stole her. When he is ready to leave, his host gives him a small supply of fish to take home. “Come to see me sometime,” says the departing visitor. Later in the summer the wife-stealer visits the husband and the latter, recip¬ rocating the courtesy, allows him to sleep with the woman that he had married after his first wife had run away. This is unlike the Eskimo custom for the women involved in such an exchange as is described above seem to have nothing to do but to acquiesce in the situation. Sexual intimacies are not typically so one-sided as we shall see. Another story of an extraordinary situation which resulted in wife exchange follows. There were two parka partners,9 each of whom had two wives. One man lived in Shageluk and the other in the village now known as Holy Cross. The Shageluk people were potlatching to those in Holy Cross. When the messengers had delivered their invitation, the Holy Cross man with two wives asked that his parka partner give him a woman. When the messengers had returned to Shageluk, they were ashamed to report this request in front of everyone. Finally they repeated it to some old men who told the parka partner. He said nothing. During the ceremony at Shageluk when the hosts had all given their parka part¬ ners what had been asked for, except the woman, the man from whom she was requested came into the entry way of the kashim with his two wives. They had talked over the situation and the wife who sat on his left side on the house bench had decided to offer herself. This woman was wearing a parka with a blanket around her shoulders. She was wholly dressed except that she had no trousers. When the time came to enter the kashim, however, the woman was too ashamed to do so. In this dilemma the woman who occupied the bench to the right of the husband and was the first wife, removed her trousers, took the blanket from the second wife and went into the kashim. Instead of coming out from under the bench at the door, however, she crawled under it to the corner. Someone hung a caribou skin down from the bench in front of her. Everyone was singing and the drums were being beaten. The parka partner who had made the request went behind the skin in the corner and had sexual intercourse with the woman. Then he came out from under the bench and put on his trousers and went outside. No one paid any attention to these proceedings. The partner who had just cohabited with the woman returned with a marten skin parka, boots, mittens, and other items of clothing which he gave to the woman. She put them on under the bench and then came out and danced. 9 The term “parka partner” is a modern usage based on the fact that “potlatch partners” recently have all asked parkas of each other, a gift which could formerly only be afforded by the rich.

206

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

In a return performance at Holy Cross the other polygynous husband recipro¬ cated. INTERPERSONAL RELATIONS A Man and a Woman Introduction. As one might expect, social intercourse that primarily relates one man and one woman usually has sexual connotations, if it does not directly involve sex—in fact, a man and woman are seldom isolated from a social group for other than sexual reasons. One of the principal exceptions appears when a man, generally young, takes his wife on an extended hunting trip unaccompanied by children. Such unusual be¬ havior engenders an interpersonal relationship scarcely possible in normal circum¬ stances. Also a couple may live alone in a winter village, or more often in a summer one, before they have children, but this is not likely to occur as assistance from close associates is particularly needed at an early age when experience is lacking. Little work is done through the cooperation of only a man and his wife, but mutual help does occur in the construction of some of the buildings in a summer village. Even in these instances, however, each person has his own task, the man doing the framing and the woman preparing bark for the roof or walls. Cooperative work be¬ tween a husband and wife can be even more definitely sequential, as when a birch bark canoe is constructed or snowshoes manufactured. In the latter case, if a woman does the lacing of the snowshoes, there is no necessity for her husband to be present. Despite the fact that a married couple normally live in juxtaposition to both children and other adults, they can create a kind of vacuum of interpersonal pri¬ vacy. Whispering is a highly acceptable means of communication and two indi¬ viduals can talk over their personal affairs without intrusion. Some of the things that they discuss have already been mentioned and include such questions as the choice of housemates for themselves and the choice of spouses for their children. In these matters the woman usually determines the outcome. Another way in which a man and a woman interact is by becoming angry at each other. Anger, as often as not, is only a reaction to some sexual situation, however. A woman who is jealous of her husband may call him “dirty man,” or say, “You look like a dog.” The husband may respond similarly or slap the girl in the face. A woman who is jealous may cry in front of her husband. If that annoys him suffi¬ ciently, he may break some of her pottery. This in turn can lead to a physical fight after which the woman may go off into the woods and cry. Obviously, when there is much interpersonal conflict, the situation enlarges into a social one. It should be added that some married couples very seldom fight. The relationship of a brother and sister is not likely to be a quarrelsome one, although occasionally oppositional tendencies assert themselves. Actually, a brother and sister are protected from conflict by patterned avoidance. If a boy talks to his sister beyond the minimal exchange essential to a situation, his mother will tell him that he ought to be ashamed. Age is not a factor, for the habit inculcated in childhood continues indefinitely. If a brother has been away a long time, he may

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

207

talk to his sister protractedly in order to give her the news, but after a day or two, the old disparity obtains. This type of avoidance does not extend to cousins of any degree. Love affairs. Fortunately life is not all grief for a man and a woman. Boys and girls, separated in their childhood play, begin to look at each other with renewed interest as they grow up. Young men and young women cannot help meeting each other when they live in the same village. Formally, a girl is shy, and particularly when inside the house. When she passes a man on the village trail, she looks down at her feet so that there will be no evil effect from her eyes to interfere with a man’s hunting and fishing activities. Despite this kind of avoidance, there can be definite emotional interactions between two individuals of the opposite sex. Feelings, which may develop into love, precipitate whispered conversations and inconspicuous meet¬ ings around the periphery of the settlement. If adolescent yearnings become ob¬ vious, a person showing them is spoken of as “one who acts like he were going to be married.” A boy or a girl who is deeply in love may compose a song to be sung when the object of devotion can hear it without the performance attracting atten¬ tion. Such a melody is called a “love-crying song” and it has characteristically a mournful quality expressing the painfulness of unsatisfied desire. Jealousies occur among the young lovers which sometimes lead to desperate states of mind. The cruelty of rejection may drive a young woman to commit suicide. Such is the in¬ sanity of love. Although romantic episodes are not infrequent among the Ingalik, many in¬ volvements with sex are simply a matter of lust. A woman is never left alone with¬ out risk, especially in a fishing or a hunting camp. If a man approaches, a young woman will hide in the bushes. If the man comes upon her by surprise or finds her place of concealment, he may attempt to throw her to the ground. The woman is almost certain to fight with the intruder and, if strong, may very well frustrate his attempts to subdue her. In the discussion of games we have noted the threat of a girl who accepts the challenge to break a beaver bone in the kashim. An infuriated woman is as dangerous as a lynx and she does not hesitate to use her teeth and nails on an aggressor. If the latter can knock the woman to the ground, he has some chance of success, but even then runs into the difficulty of removing the victim’s trousers. When the female has fought and screamed to exhaustion, he may accom¬ plish his purpose. A woman who has had sexual intercourse forced upon her tells her husband, and he may then be expected to give her assailant a beating if he can catch him and is capable of doing so. All in all, it is easier to protect a woman than to try to avenge her. Some men acquire a bad name because of their reputation for attacking women. Somehow, no matter how much punishment they receive in return, their behavior does not change. Once in a while, however, such a man is killed by a husband who has an unusual temper. When this occurs, people say that the man got what he was looking for. An attack like that mentioned above can be differentiated from one by a young

208

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

man on a girl that he knows. A boy, in developing an affair with a girl, may attempt to put his hand under her trousers from the top. Since her belt is tight, he has a difficult time. If he has a little success, the girl bites him on the shoulder as a warn¬ ing. If he reaches in farther, she may bite him badly before he can free himself, for he can have trouble in withdrawing his hand. Despite the rejection—or on account of it—his desire for the girl may increase. He watches for the girl to go into the woods alone but she is always with another girl. At last he grabs her anyway and the following conversation ensues: “Look where you bit me.” “I don’t want to look. You shouldn’t do that anyway.” “Would you do that to your husband?” “No, he’s the one who keeps me.” She is referring to a future relationship, of course. Despite the circumstances, the boy may try to throw the girl to the ground. If she cannot resist him alone, she calls her friend. Together they reverse the situation he is trying to achieve, stretch¬ ing him on his back with one girl sitting on his arms and the other on his feet. In this position, they pull his trousers down but do not otherwise touch him. “Are you going to bother me any more?” asks the object of his advances. “No.” “If you do, we’ll take your pants off next time.” Then the girls run home. The boy is ashamed because the two girls looked at him and he avoids them meticulously perhaps for a year. Nonetheless, he thinks about the situation all the time. “I’m going to marry that girl. She has pulled down my pants already,” he reflects. One day he catches her in the woods. “Do you remember what you did to me?” he asks. “No,” she answers because she is ashamed. Then she adds challengingly, “You felt me!” “What of that. Anyone can feel my body,” he retorts. The conversation develops and the girl does not run away. The boy asks the girl to marry him but she will not answer. “Well, I’ll ask your mother,” he says as he leaves her. Firm in his pursuit, he asks some old woman to speak to the mother of the girl on his behalf. The old woman replies, however, that she will not do so unless his own mother agrees. Unfortunately, that important person is opposed to the mar¬ riage. She already has another girl in mind for him. In this predicament the boy asks his girl friend to elope with him. She refuses, but he continues with his efforts to persuade her. Finally, the parents of the girl arrange for her to marry another young man and the latter comes to stay at their home. In this crisis, the ardent lover stops the girl again. “What will happen if you marry someone else? You remember when I felt you. You were the first girl to see me too,” he tells her.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

209

“Yes, you were the first one to feel me,” she replies. “It would be too bad if you married someone else.” “I don’t like that man!” This is the straw that upsets the balance of normal behavior and the boy and the girl elope. Then two things may happen. The intended bridegroom may follow after them and even kill the boy. In this case, however, if the girl escapes—either then or at a later time and reaches home, she is safe because the murderer will not dare to follow her into the village of the man he killed. In another instance, the intended bridgeroom may see the wisdom of not interfering with the course of nature. Sometimes love affairs cause other types of trouble. A boy who is anxious for company likes some girl and says to her, “Maybe I’ll see you tonight.” When the girl refuses, he is not dismayed and asks another girl who agrees to receive him. After it is dark and people have gone to sleep, he slips into the girl’s house. He stays a little while and his welcome develops into sexual intercourse. Not satisfied, on another night he goes to the house of the girl who had refused him. She still rejects him and moves over beside her mother who wakes up. Al¬ though the girl says nothing, the mother remembers what happened when she herself was a girl. Understanding the trouble, the mother scolds the boy and he goes out. With more attention, the boy in time may win the girl. If this happens in the summer, the mother most likely may wake up and discover her daughter having sexual intercourse. She is sure to scold the boy and afterward the girl, perhaps beating her with a stick. She is afraid her daughter may become pregnant, for if she does, there is sure to be a row. Notwithstanding this danger, some girls have the reputation of sleeping with any boy, either in the bushes or in the house. Sooner or later such a girl becomes pregnant and when her mother asks what is the matter, she says nothing. When her condition becomes obvious, the mother tries to find out who is responsible, but the girl may not tell, in which case her mother may beat her. Despite this treatment, the girl may refuse to divulge the father and, indeed, she may not know. When the child is born, her mother tries again and the girl, affected by the experience, may name the boy among her intimates whom she likes best of all. In that case, the girl’s mother informs the mother of the implicated boy. “I’m ashamed about my girl,” she says, but the mother of the responsible one assures her that he must marry the girl if he is the father. The mother of the boy later asks him, “Is that your child?” and he may admit it. Nonetheless, if his mother does not like the girl, she tells him not to marry her. Contrariwise, if the boy’s mother does like the girl who has claimed him as the father of her child, she will order him to marry her and the boy is expected to obey. At first he may object, however, and not come home for several days. “Did you stay with the girl?” she asks him when he does return.

210

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

“No.” “If you don’t, the boys will laugh at you,” she warns him. In his difficulty he goes to the girl’s house and looks at the baby. Then he speaks to the girl. “I guess you’ll be my wife. My mother scolded me so much.” “I told you that when you fooled with me the first time,” the girl replies. Her mother says nothing. She only wants a husband for her daughter. Unmar¬ ried daughters with children are a common problem. As another example, presenting dramatically the attempts of a young man to engage in a love affair and his consequent frustration, we should remember the episode on the day following the eleventh night of the animal’s ceremony. It is not always the boy who initiates an intimacy, however, as the following account will illustrate. A young widower was spending a night with friends in their spring camp. As the accommodations were not large, his blankets were placed so that his feet were not far from the head of the family’s only daughter, quite old enough to be married. He did not go to sleep immediately and after a while he was surprised to feel his blankets pulled three times. He raised himself and then lay down again. Once more his blankets were pulled and this time he saw that it was the girl signaling to him. Naturally he crawled over to her and asked what she wanted. She said that she could not sleep and he replied that he could not either. She laughed softly and commented, “You must have been thinking about something pretty hard.” Then he went to bed with her for two hours and there was no sign that her parents were aware of what was going on. The young lady who gave the invitation was something of a spoiled child and given to talking. She told another girl and the gossip spread. When her mother finally heard of it, she told the widower that she was very much ashamed and that he should marry the girl. The latter refused, however, on the grounds that the girl was too “bossy.” He nevertheless continued to sleep with her from time to time, but stopped after he remarried because she talked too much. The situation, already mentioned, of an eloping couple can be enlarged upon. A boy and girl may come to like each other so much that they run off together despite parental opposition. The story of a young man and woman who fled from Shageluk into the Innoko River country offers a detailed picture of one such case. The two individuals involved were already beyond the age at which they might well have married. The young man was lazy, however, and the parents refused formal ap¬ proval of what had already been established as an intimate and continuing rela¬ tionship. One night at the beginning of the summer, the young man slipped out of the house and had a rendezvous with his girl. Frustrated by being kept apart, the boy stole his father’s birch bark canoe, various necessary implements, and as much dry fish as he could carry, and with the girl, who was highly agreeable to this solution of their problems, set out before dawn from the village.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

211

The day was not far along before both fathers of the young couple discovered what had taken place. They were so angry that they became involved in a terrific fight which, of course, accomplished nothing. No one set out after the runaways. When autumn was approaching, the girl’s mother asked her husband, “Why don’t you look for your girl?” “Should I look for her? I’ve got no use for her any more,” replied the man. “If she dies, you’ll be ashamed.” “It will be her own fault.” In the village there was a young man who had been a friend of the girl and he kept wondering what had happened. “I guess I’ll go and look for them and see how they are getting along,” he thought. So early the next morning he set out in his canoe. All that day he paddled and the next one also. By afternoon he was very tired and said to himself, “If I don’t find them today, I’ll go back.” Just as it was getting dark, however, he saw a canoe upside down on the beach. He paddled to¬ ward it and saw smoke rising through the trees. He hesitated to approach because he thought that the couple might not want to see anyone. As he drifted nearer, he could hear a woman talking inside a small summer house. “Do you want some berries? I’ll go get some,” she said. The friend tried to hide, but when the girl came out she saw him. She immedi¬ ately called her husband who appeared smiling. “I have not seen anyone all summer. How is everyone in the village?” he asked. The friend went into the house with them and reported what had happened since they left. He told about the fathers fighting and the young people laughed. They went on talking and the friend asked how they were getting along. “Well, we are living still. We haven’t killed each other—and we eat. We have fish, but no caribou yet.” “If you have babiche,” the friend replied, “you can snare some.” Whereupon he gave the boy some babiche which he had obtained from his own father. After visiting a couple of days, the friend set off in his canoe to return home. The young husband told him to let their parents know that they were fine and were not coming home. “Maybe I’ll come to see you this winter,” said the friend as he left. “Perhaps we will move to a winter camp and keep this one for summer,” was the final comment. The friend, on reaching home, told his own mother what had happened to the runaways, how they had built a summer house, a cache for the girl, and so on. His mother then went to the girl’s mother and repeated what she had found out. The girl’s mother said, “That’s good, but it is too far to go and see them.” In the winter the friend informed his mother that he intended to visit the run¬ away couple. His mother said that he should tell the girl’s mother because she might wish to send some clothes to them. The boy replied that he was ashamed to do it so his mother inquired for him. The girl’s mother immediately wanted to know if the boy would take a sled and

212

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

when she learned that he was traveling on foot said, “All right, I’ll send a light muskrat parka and boots.” The young man eventually set off with his pack and in due time arrived at the summer camp of the couple who had eloped, but no one was there. He continued on upriver and, after considerable searching, found the locality where the run¬ aways had camped. Going further he found a fresh snowshoe trail and followed it across sloughs and a portage until it led him to the winter house which they had built. It was very small and they did not even have a cache. The visitor placed his snowshoes and bow and arrows on top of the house and went inside where he removed his boots. The young husband was glad to see him and they talked together. “I had a hard time to find you,” said the friend and proceeded to tell all about the difficulties he had encountered on his journey. The young husband pointed to a caribou skin. “Do you see that? The first time I have killed caribou was today.” They brought in some meat and the girl cooked for the visitor who gave her the parka and boots which her mother had sent. She was particularly pleased because she had been obliged to get along with boots made only from fish skin. The husband recounted what a hard time he had gone through to catch caribou. He said that he had been forced to run and run without success, but that he had been able to catch a lot of smaller animals. “Before I got married I didn’t want to do anything, but now I work hard. It was difficult even to make a fish trap, but my wife helped me.” The friend pointed out that it would be easier the next time and also offered to join in another caribou hunt. Consequently, the next morning the two young men arose early, telling the girl that they might not return that night. When they reached the place where the boy had killed his first caribou, he showed his friend where he had cached the meat and said, “If we catch nothing, we’ll pack this meat home.” The friend asked which way the caribou went when last seen. The boy replied that they had gone all ways so they decided to go in different directions themselves. Before long, the young husband located five cari¬ bou in a gulch and he sat down trying to decide whether he should wait for his companion or not. “If I wait, we may kill all of them and, if I don’t, I may shoot none,” he thought. Waiting, he saw his friend moving along the opposite ridge and he was afraid that his friend might disturb the caribou. The other hunter saw them, however, and he too sat and waited. After a long time the husband was able quietly to attract his friend’s attention by waving his hand. They then converged on the caribou, the husband shooting one with his bow and arrow and driving the others toward his friend who managed to kill three more. When they met, the husband asked, “How many did you kill?” “Three.” “How many have you?” “One.”

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

213

“That’s all right, I give you all of them.” “No, you’d better keep one. You might come back with your sled and take it home for your mother.” “No. When I come here, you will feed me.” They skinned all the caribou and the husband said, “We will keep the skins for you anyway.” They cached the meat, except for a small amount which they carried home inside their arrow bags. The girl cooked it for them. In the morning the visitor decided to return to his village. “Come and see us again,” invited the young couple. “Why don’t you come to the village?” the friend asked. “I am ashamed,” the boy answered. “People call me lazy and laugh at me.” “But you’re not lazy now.” “Maybe my wife will go back to visit her mother, but not me.” His wife added she had no intention of doing so. “Maybe your mother will come to see you,” suggested the visitor to the girl. “Even so, I shall never go back to that village again.” The visitor returned home and when his mother asked him how his friends were, he told her everything; how they had managed to kill caribou and that the young couple would not return home. This information was passed on to the girl’s mother who commented, “Maybe some day I shall go to see them and persuade them to return. What kind of people are they never to come home?” In the spring, the girl’s mother said to her husband that she was going to see her daughter. The husband replied, “All right, I will go with you.” They set off with a little sled, the man pulling it and the woman pushing from behind. When they reached the winter house of the young couple, only the girl was at home. When she saw her mother, she went right back into the house and did not come out again. Her mother entered and wanted to know what was the trouble, but the girl was too ashamed to talk. “What’s the matter with you,” asked her mother. “If you don’t talk, I’ll go back home.” “Other girls who are married have a good home. I have nothing but what you see. You called my husband all sorts of bad things.” The girl cooked something for her parents to eat and in the evening her husband returned. When he discovered who had arrived, he refused to stay in the house and sat on a log outside. His wife tried to persuade him, but he said “I am ashamed of what your mother said to me. It is just as though she was speaking to me now.” The girl succeeded at last, but when he entered the house, he sat with his head down and said nothing. His father-in-law asked him why he did not want to come into the house and continued, “Did you think we were going to scold you again? We won’t do that. You are living together now. We can’t do anything.” The parents stayed for three days and the son-in-law gave them a little meat

214

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

and some skins to take home. The girl’s mother asked her daughter whether she would come back to the village but the latter answered in the negative. “What will you do when you have kids? We want to look after you,” the mother asked. To this there was no reply. The next winter the girl became pregnant. She did not say anything, but just looked as if she were thinking hard. Her husband asked her what was the matter and the girl said, “I was thinking what I’d do if I had a baby here all alone.” “We would do something. Did you ever see other women have a baby?” “I have seen them, but not close.” “I don’t know anything about it,” the boy admitted but went on with protective concern, “Don’t you think about it or you will be sick. Everything will be all right.” In the spring the girl had labor pains and told her husband. “What did you eat?” he asked. “This is different,” she replied. “Are you going to have a baby?” “I don’t know.” “Where shall I put you? Right here?” “No, in the corner. Go out and get some grass.” The girl fixed herself in the corner, taking off her boots and trousers. She told her husband to hold her tightly under the arms and said, “When I want to straighten up, hold me down.” After a while the husband asked, “Is the baby born?” “I don’t know,” replied the girl. The boy looked down and saw the baby and asked his wife what he should do. She told him to wait until the placenta came out and afterward asked for her needle case. Then she instructed her husband to tie the umbilical cord in two places and to take the knife out of her needle case and cut the cord between the places it had been tied. When he had done this, she asked him to go out and get a basket. When he returned with it she turned around slowly so as to expose the grass beneath her. “That’s nothing, I’ll put it in,” said the boy. “No, I’ll do it,” she insisted and placed the grass in the basket. The boy took it outside and, not knowing anything better to do with it, left it in the woods. When he returned he washed the child, and the girl asked him to make a little soup with fish eggs in one of the pots she had constructed. The girl told him to put a little in a dish and she drank it. The baby cried and the boy said, “What will we do?” “I don’t know.” “Why don’t you nurse him?” The girl tried to nurse the baby but it took a long time to persuade the child. It cried again and the mother attempted to nurse it, but every time the child drank, it became nauseated and vomited. The parents did not know what to do. The boy asked if all babies act that way and the girl answered, “No.” Then they tried to feed the baby fish eggs but it could not hold them down.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

215

After awhile the girl’s mother came for another visit. Her brother brought her. When she learned that the baby was using up all its mother’s milk because it vomited so much, she asked, “How soon did you nurse him?” “He cried and cried, so we fed him,” replied the daughter. “You shouldn’t have done that until he had vomited first,” replied the visiting parent. When the mother was told what else had happened, she said they were fortunate. Then she asked, “Did you put a finger in the baby’s mouth?” “No.” “Well, the child will have a narrow throat and won’t be able to run well.” The mother stayed quite awhile before she went home. When the child grew, it took him a long time to eat his food and his mother had to take out little bits of bone and pieces of skin. His mother would say, “Why can’t you eat faster?” “It sticks in my throat,” the child would reply. “That’s what your grandmother said would happen.” Always that boy took a long time to eat. The girl never went back to her village. Sometimes a man and a woman may be sexually motivated to run off together when one of them is already married. The following account will illustrate just such an event. A married man had been having an affair with an unmarried girl. This he was able to carry on for some time without his wife’s knowledge as he told her that he had been sleeping in the kashim. Some other woman, however, intimated what was taking place and the wife began to watch the husband, finally satisfying her¬ self as to what was going on. Becoming angry, the wife challenged her husband. “What are you doing out there with that woman?” “Nothing.” “What did you say to her?” “I just asked her how she is.” The exchange ends up by the wife saying in fury that he can have the girl and that she is going to leave him. In her anger she takes her blanket and sleeps by herself. The husband tells his girl friend that his wife has discovered their relationship and the girl replies, “It’s your own fault.” “Well, I’ll marry you then. My wife doesn’t care any more.” “No, I am afraid of your wife. She is stronger than I am.” “Well, we’ll go away all summer and then it will be all right.” They follow this suggestion which makes the mother of the girl, who has run off, furious. In the fall when they come back, the girl has to return home and her mother berates her. “Don’t you know the man has a wife?” The wandering husband goes to the house of his parents and they scold him also. In this predicament the husband goes to his girl friend’s house but his wife is right behind him. She says to the girl, “Why did you take my husband? I know you have

216

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

been fooling with him for a long time,” and she starts to kick the girl and tear off all her clothes. No one attempts to interfere and the girl cries. After about three days the husband, who has been sleeping at his mother’s house, goes to that of his wife. Seeing her husband, the latter says angrily, “You have been living with that girl all summer. Who don’t you go with her?” The husband, incapable of dealing with the situation, goes out and proceeds to the house of his girl friend where the following conversation ensues. “What are you going to do now?” asks the girl. “I want both of you.” “No, that means trouble all the time.” “Very well, I’ll have you alone then.” The man does not return to his first wife. Similar situations may end in polygyny or in giving up the girl. In case of the adultery of a married woman which is discovered by her husband, theoretically he may kill the other man or at least fight with him as well as beat the misbehaving wife. In fact, however, nothing much happens in these situations. Actually, trouble can start just as well from gossip alone. In one case a man was staying at the house of his best friend and slept there when his friend had expected to return but did not. There was no intimacy between the man and his friend’s wife and the friend was content with the situation. Gossip started, however, and the husband became jealous. The matter was finally settled by the wife dis¬ covering the woman who had started the talk and slapping her face. Actually, the slandered wife later asked her husband’s best friend why he did not want to sleep with her. When a wife commits adultery, she may tell her husband if she thinks someone else may tell him first. She, of course, claims that the deed was done against her will. The guilty man, if challenged, says that she lies and confusion obviously re¬ sults. Adulterous wives are said not to mind particularly what their husbands do. They just get mad a little and pay them back “to make even.” However, if the offense is a gross one, a wife may go after her husband with a club. If the evidence of adultery is secondhand, there is not apt to be so much trouble. In any event, the safest thing is for the husband to leave home for a night. When the problem was posed of how many husbands out of a hundred would not commit adultery at some time or another, the informant’s answer was, “one or two, maybe.” The same question put with respect to wives, however, brought the response that probably eighty percent did not engage in any adulterous rela¬ tionships. Sexual intercourse. The age at which cohabitation commences varies consider¬ ably. It is normally preceded by intervals of masturbation and by sexual play be¬ tween children, subjects which will be discussed in a later section. Despite the effort of parents to keep their children from observing sexual intercourse, it is not always possible to do so. The parents are always covered by blankets in their sexual activities, but nonetheless, the children can comprehend a considerable part of the

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

217

process. They also learn more specific details from frequent observations of the behavior of dogs. However varied the childhood experiences, most individuals receive their intro¬ duction to actual intercourse from an older partner. An older girl, for example, may take a fancy to a boy whose sex life has not properly begun. After sufficiently exciting him by use of her hands, she will then lie down and tell the boy what to do. Invariably, he is not adept. Sometimes he is unable to achieve intromission before ejaculation. The situation may create a condition of too much emotional intensity in the boy, and he may weep and wish to escape. The girl lets him go. More often, cohabitation occurs with sufficient success to engender the desire for improvement. Young girls, on the other hand, are introduced to sexual intercourse by older boys or grown men. They too have a series of possible reactions paralleling those just described when the girl is the teacher. Unless the couple are married and sleep¬ ing at home, the female usually frees only one leg from her clothing and lies on her back with her legs stretched out. If intromission is painful, the woman does not reject the man, but may ask him to move more slowly. There seems to be consider¬ able individual variation in the responses. Some women do not recognize a definite orgasm; those who do, enjoy it. Coitus interruptus is not practiced and the man usually withdraws after his ejaculation. Secrecy or a none too comfortable setting does not encourage a repetition of intercourse at a single engagement if the couple is not married. Concerning the frequency of intercourse between men and their wives, it is diffi¬ cult to obtain data. One hint comes from the following account. There is a story about two men who exchanged wives and the next morning one of the husbands asked the other how many times he had enjoyed the sexual relationship. The fellow answered, “Three times,” whereupon the questioner said that he had cohabited four times. This made the first man so jealous that he got mad and killed his friend. Very few girls wait until their marriage before having sexual intercourse—al¬ though the ideals of the culture dictate that they should—whereas a man of any age who does not take advantage of an opportunity to engage in sexual intercourse is considered abnormal. On the other hand, there is a definite idea that one can have too much sexual intercourse. Also, there are the taboos previously mentioned which prohibit co¬ habitation for about one month after a birth, for about fifteen days following the first menstruation (in the case of premenstrual marriage), and at menstrual periods. There is no taboo on this relationship before a woman gives birth to a child or be¬ fore a man goes hunting. Among other negative data it is said that a woman may not ask her husband to have sexual intercourse, at least directly, although such a request is known in myths. Also, there is very little sex play and a minimum of kissing. Affection is not shown by rubbing noses, but a man may handle the wo¬ man’s breasts. Neither sucking nor licking with the tongue plays any role in sexual relations, and tickling, pinching, or biting is likewise denied. Traditionally, brothers and sisters are known to have occasionally married each

218

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

other. There is the story of a time, when the people had starved and so few were left, that a father was advised to let his son and daughter marry so that they would produce a better group of people—that is, husbands and wives who would not de¬ sert each other in periods of starvation. Sexual intercourse between a man and his sister-in-law, although held to be wrong, is not unknown, and sometimes brothers fight on account of such behavior. No cases of father-daughter or mother-son mar¬ riages could be discovered. Incest of this kind is considered very bad, and an Indian who was asked which would be worse, replied, “Both are worse.” Two Men or Two Women

Aggression. One of the commonest forms of interpersonal relationship between individuals of the same sex results from situations that lead to aggression. Men become angry with each other for various causes, many of which have already been mentioned in earlier descriptions of the social behavior. Frequently there are disputes over a woman. These involve seduction, adultery, wife stealing, and simi¬ lar sources of conflicting interests. Not uncommonly, when angered, one man at¬ tacks another and attempts to render him helpless. The basic pattern is that of native wrestling to which on such occasions is added kicking and striking. A pain¬ ful beating may result. When the issues are not quite so provocative, the aggression does not result in physical contact. Injury to property, for example, may create considerable annoy¬ ance without resulting in physical abuse. The direct unfavorable opinion of one man expressed to the face of another is considered extremely painful in Ingalik so¬ ciety. Epithets of opprobrium occur, of which the worst is the exclamation “Die!” Another is “Dirty!” This is probably an inadequate translation of the Athapaskan term as the English word does not convey its force; also this expression should not be confused with the milder comment “Dirty man.” The first two insults may well lead to physical violence. One woman may use them to another also, whereas “Dirty man” is more characteristically used by a woman who is furious at her husband. Between these two extremes is such an expression as “You look like a dog,” which is likely to provoke actual fighting. Men suffer from these verbal ex¬ changes and very old ones, having thus become emotionally aroused, may break into tears as a consequence. Songs of ridicule are known to be used among the Ingalik, although not so com¬ monly as among the Eskimo. They seem to represent a clear case of borrowing and perhaps not such an old one. If a man is angry at another, he may compose a song making fun of him. The latter’s capacities as a provider may be questioned or the character of his mother maligned. He may be likened to an object or animal in some way which is not complimentary. For instance, he may be called by the name of a particular bird which always makes a noise when the ice is breaking up in the rivers and consequently is regarded as always looking for trouble. The composer may then teach it to others so that they can join him when he sings it in front of the man who is the object of derision. This is done at some convenient time, such

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

219

as at a ceremony or on any evening when a group has gathered. The shamed man may become angry and attack his opponent physically, or he may make up a song in retaliation. The relationship of brothers needs special mention as it is said that fights not infrequently occur between male siblings despite a patterned avoidance like that between brother and sister. When brothers do fight, the father warns the oppo¬ nents, who may nonetheless continue to the point of turning their knives against each other. In such an extreme, the father may go to the aggressor and say in typical Athapaskan paradoxical style, “Why don’t you kill your brother and eat him? You treat him just like an animal.” Still they may fight. The relationship between father and son is not as apt to lead to physical conflict as that between brothers, but not infrequently a man and his father do not get along, at least not as well as do males of alternate generations. Various cases have already been discussed in which the aggression of one woman toward another is demonstrated. As with men, the primary cause seems to be dis¬ putes over the opposite sex. Two women will call each other names and may attack each other physically—pulling hair, scratching, tearing off clothes, and so on. Usu¬ ally, there is more scolding than physical fighting, and all these attacks generally end in tears being shed by one or both individuals involved. The scolding of daugh¬ ters by their mothers is specially noted, even when the younger woman is fully grown. Again, the scolded one typically reacts with tears. Sisters fight with each other as do brothers. A special mention must be made of the behavior of male berdaches who adopt the role of women in the society. Such men are extremely jealous of each other, and it is believed that they will attempt to kill another of their kind by means of “songs” whenever they meet. Actually, they do not look at each other, and they obviously suffer from fear. Cooperation. As a balance for animosity there is also friendship. It is not unusual for two young men who like each other to hunt together. They may find a certain mutual excitement in camping alone in the winter forest. When the fire has been built, one of them will put a large block of snow on a willow, the latter being then placed in a slanting position about three feet from the fire. The men will take turns in holding a piece of birch bark from a rotten tree—folded like a basket and held in place with the hands—so that the water from the melting snow drips into it. When they have quenched their thirst and eaten their dinner, they may sing some well-known love song as a duet, their thoughts turning to absent women. Men who hunt alone or as members of large groups seeking caribou may also pair off to bring in the meat, lashing their hunting canoes together with dry willow poles. This supplies a base for a platform on which the newly obtained provender can be brought back to their village. Handling birch bark canoes that are being utilized in this fashion requires skill to prevent them from swamping. Consequently, the interaction between the two paddlers makes for a meaningful relationship. When a man is not successful in hunting, he may approach his brother for super-

220

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

natural assistance. In response, the brother may give him the benefit of some ani¬ mal “song” which he has, “singing” and blowing on the mittens of the hunter for luck. This is short-term assistance which is expected to last only for the day. It will be noted that all exchanges of lucky “songs” involve private and interpersonal relations. Besides hunting, one man may occasionally help another in the process of fishing as, for instance, in setting traps. Notable is the case of king salmon seining when the place of the float at the end of a net is taken by a second man who is friend to the first. Two men may also undertake together the heavy work of building a winter house. Cooperation extends to little things such as cutting the hair of a friend. Some men never cut their hair but only tie it up behind their heads with a string. Others crop it above the eyes and around the head either above or below the ears. This is done by placing the hair over the sharp edge of a stone and hitting it with a spruce stick, an undertaking for which a man understandably needs as¬ sistance. One of the more formal examples of interpersonal relations between men is the pairing of messengers in two of the great ceremonies. In the case of the partner’s potlatch it will be remembered that two individuals are chosen to carry the invita¬ tion sticks to the guest village and to convey the various requests which are speci¬ fied by the principal participants. Such an undertaking involves obvious coopera¬ tion between the two men and results in shared prestige. There are also paired messengers who convey the invitation to a mask dance, although a somewhat less demanding role is required of them. Trading various commodities offers another opportunity for interpersonal rela¬ tions. The activities of men with respect to the barter of goods have already been mentioned. Women also trade or sell at will anything that they make or have, their husbands or male relatives having nothing to say in the matter. Women often specialize in constructing certain objects such as clay pots, baskets, or bags, and will trade them for things that they want. A woman, for example, may come to the camp of a well-known potter and tell her that she would like one of her pieces of a certain size. The potter asks what she will give. The first woman may then offer a pair of boot soles. If content, the potter agrees; if she is not satisfied, she says that she does not wish to sell, in which case the woman must offer more if she is to obtain the object. Actually there is not much arguing about prices, for most women would rather take less than haggle. As has already been intimated, a polygynous wife can change her attitude from one of aggression to that of cooperation. Irrespective of variations in feeling, it is inevitable when a man has two wives sharing a common bench that they develop special interaction patterns in consequence of the duality of the role. It is a blessing when it can develop into friendship. A more specialized example of cooperation between two women occurs when they share a traveling canoe. Such occasions are probably not frequent enough to be more than temporarily meaningful, however, as there are generally others in the canoe to create a social situation.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

221

Dependency relations. Interactions between a rich man and a poor one comprise one kind of interpersonal exchange. The individual who is a poor hunter and fisher¬ man is, by that fact, economically unsuccessful. One of the obvious things which may be done about such failure is to buy some medicine from a successful man who, being successful, obviously has it. Thus for a payment, which depends in amount upon the good will of the performer, a man may purchase the beneficial effect of a powerful “song.” This medicine is conveyed by the customary per¬ formance of the secret incantation and the blowing on the recipient. If the means can be found, a man may also try to purchase the “song” itself. This, however, is more difficult to do and may require some special or categorical relationship between owner and purchaser. Not infrequently, a poor man may work for a rich one. He goes to his potential patron and says, “I have no parka and boots.” “All right, you can make a fish trap for me,” says the rich man. When the man has finished with the fish trap, the rich man gives him a parka that he has worn one or two winters. A third man seeing the new fish trap says to the rich man, “Good trap. You need it?” “No.” With this answer the third man offers a number of skins which are accepted and he takes the fish trap home. In this manner a rich man may have several poor individuals working for him periodically. The interpersonal relationships thus established are variable. If the rich man is kind by nature and likes the person, he may be generous. He is just as likely, however, to drive sharp bargains and become richer and richer. Services of a slightly different character may be obtained, for example, when a hunter kills a large animal a few miles from his village. He will then bring home a little of the meat and probably the heart. In winter, and especially in deep snow, help will be needed to transport the rest of the animal. In such a case the hunter will get someone to help him by paying for the assistance with a share of the meat. One leg of the animal, for instance, may be given. Partnerships. One of the principal forms of interpersonal relationship is that in which one individual establishes with another a continuing partnership on the basis of reciprocal obligations. There are three kinds of these, two of which we have encountered in the descriptions of the great ceremonies. Each kind normally in¬ volves a relationship between one man and another, or one woman and another, although heterosexual partnerships are not unknown. Each of the three types of partnership will be summarized in turn. Perhaps the most essential type of partnership is that in which the individual is known as the “feeding partner,” a term which refers to the primary obligation of each man to supply food to the other. Partners of this kind are residents of different villages and serve as hosts when the need arises and particularly when individuals are visiting a village on such occasions as the partner’s potlatch, the mask dance, or a death ceremony. “Feeding partners” may be acquired by mutual agreement

222

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

or are often inherited, so to speak, from a parent. The partner being familiar to the house, it is natural that the relationship be continued. The “potlatch partner” has a somewhat more complicated function in that he must respond with the gifts requested of him by his partner at the ceremony of the partner’s potlatch and only at this ceremony the relationship manifests itself. As in the case of the previous partnership, the partner may be acquired by mutual agreement or be inherited. Since the obligation may be much heavier economically than in the case of a “feeding partner,” personal choice becomes more important in balancing the ability to give and to reciprocate. Both of the types of partner¬ ship just described are not limited in number, and frequently it is desirable for an individual to establish a series of such relationships. Thus, a man may be paired off with partners in four or five villages. The third type of partnership is a more informal kind of relationship which often develops in childhood and may last indefinitely. This relationship which may be referred to as that of “special friend,” or just “partner,” is ideally expected to last for a lifetime. More often, however, some trouble occurs and eventually a substitution takes place. The “special friend” relationship is always established by mutual agreement although there are no formal rights involved. Also unlike the situation in the other partnerships, the “special friend” ordinarily lives in the same village. In short, he is a person’s best friend who is better liked than a brother. If a man wants a partner with whom to go hunting, it is his “special friend” that he asks. If he needs help of some kind, again it is this person. “Special friends” may revenge a murder. There is no formal exchange of wives, but one’s “special friends” usually do not charge each other for anything. If some other individual asks one of a pair of “special friends” to hunt with him, the partners generally talk it over before he accepts. Sometimes they decide that it would be a good thing because they might learn some new methods. If so, one partner ultimately passes on the information to the other. Naturally, there is a variation in the intensity of the friendship involved, and the term may actually be extended to some person who has been no more than exceptionally kind. Two girls may form such a partner¬ ship as well as two men, although the frequency of such alliances as well as their strength has not been adequately determined. Intimacies. In Ingalik culture there does not appear to be much bodily contact manifested between individuals of the same sex after they have reached puberty. Rarely will an adult male put one arm around another although “special friends” may do so. Also a father may pat his son on the head or back if he likes him. Homo¬ sexuality seems to be almost entirely contained within the role of berdaches. Women are certainly more tactile than men. Not infrequently, women put their arms around each other although they rarely kiss. Girls who are friends may sleep together. As an indication of homosexuality, one woman reported seeing two girls old enough to be married lying one on top of the other. This was not an accidental juxtaposition as the same informant twice saw the two girls in the woods doing it again. A male informant also saw two girls lying one on top of the other. He later

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

223

asked them what they were doing but they denied that they had been in the grass where he told them he had seen them. Caught in the lie, they would still say noth¬ ing, as might be expected. The man who was curious advised them to get some boys. A Child and Another Individual

Aggression. An interpersonal situation which involves aggression between a child and an adult is relatively rare in Ingalik culture. Cases do occur, however, as when one child is imputed to be the cause of death or of serious injury to another. The parent of the injured child may then become aggressive toward the other child, or at least the latter believes him so. We have noted such a case in discuss¬ ing the instance of a boy falling through the smoke hole of his house and made reference to such examples as one child drowning when two are playing in a canoe. Much more common are cases of aggression between two children. These in¬ stances begin in infancy and are found at all ages. Small children not infrequently make faces at others they do not like. Although it is not clear as to whether a child is aggressive when it scares another, certainly such actions are regarded by the parents as aggressive and their attitude may be presumed to carry over to the children in at least some instances. All children seem to provoke others some of the time and some of the children certainly are distinguished by being provocative much of the time. Fighting between two young ones not infrequently results. It may vary from what might be described as somewhat excessive playful pinching to very intentional injury. One child, angry at another, may commence by wrestling and then resort to scratching or biting in order to subdue his opponent. As has been said before, only when the children develop a conflict to the extent of injuring each other are they separated. Cooperation and privilege. Children are not distinguished by their cooperation with adults. Nonetheless, in certain ways they do establish relationships of reci¬ procity although the gain may be more often material for the child and intangible for the adult. A child frequently establishes a particular friendship with some older person of the same sex, and with this person he or she spends a disproportionate amount of time. Such a person may be in the relationship of grandfather or uncle, but in all cases, a person who particularly likes children. It is from such an individ¬ ual that the child acquires its playthings. A small child, for example, will persuade his friend to make him a bow and simple wood arrows. When the boy is seven or eight, arrows with dull bone points will be supplied. Perhaps a friend will make a latticework deadfall about one and a half by three feet in size which the boy can set up with a trigger stick and a string perhaps fifty feet long. He baits this trap with grass and when a bird goes underneath, he pulls the string and possibly catches the bird. Such toys are considered educational. Sometimes the father is the one who will make them, but more often he is not. The older person is rewarded by having the child yell at him in a friendly way whenever he sees him as well as by having him show his respect and admiration in other simple ways.

224

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Little girls have similar interpersonal relationships but these are perhaps more often with the mother or older sister. Whoever it is, she supplies the little girl with things to play with such as small clay pots. She will also teach the child to string wild rosebuds on a fish skin line and to wear them as a necklace. A little girl will be provided with pieces of thin birch bark and some roots and taught how to make toy baskets with which to play. Actually the Ingalik are not much in favor of toys because they are afraid that "devils” will go inside them. This is particularly applicable to dolls. Nonetheless, a girl might persuade her mother to make one. Girls of the age at which they start crawling around generally like dolls and continue to do so until they are six or seven years old. Little boys may play with a doll for a day and then discard it when the mother says, “You don’t need that doll. You are a boy.” The dolls of smaller children are just pieces of rabbit skin loosely tied up. When the doll comes apart, the child tries to persuade her best friend to tie up another. As the girl grows older she can make a doll for herself. We have already seen that a doll can have ceremonial importance, and this religious role of dolls will be treated under the appropriate facet of culture. As a special aspect of cooperation, leg straightening should be mentioned. Since it is a common belief of the Ingalik that straight legs are a correlate of efficient running and of packing heavy loads, it is considered a great benefit to a child to secure this advantage. Therefore, if a child’s legs are bowed, they are straightened in infancy by tying them together. If the child cries, the binding is loosened. Another aspect of interpersonal relations between a child and adult is that in¬ volved in the inheritance of a memento. When a person is about to die, a favorite child is called in and given something as a token of the friendship. Such things are valued beyond any intrinsic worth. A very special type of interpersonal relationship may occur when a child is adopted by some relative. This may occur when a widower is left with a number of children, or sometimes when parents have suffered from the death of too many of their children and allow an adoption believing that it may preserve the child’s life. Traditionally, the results of an adoption can also develop into very definite interpersonal aggressions with sad consequences for the child. In a majority of cases, however, it may be presumed that adoption is a social act rather than one which is interpersonal in its initiation. Inevitably, children develop friendships among themselves. A boy will come to the outside door of a house and yell for his best friend. Literally he screams, “I want you to come out,” but everyone knows whom he means. Girls, on the other hand, go inside a house to meet their particular friend, but seldom play inside. They make too much noise in a small space. Out of these interpersonal play situa¬ tions frequently develop the associations of long standing which have been pre¬ viously discussed as “special friendships.” A special characteristic of children’s friendships is the telling of one class of stories. These simple accounts, sometimes referred to as “inane stories”—or, liter-

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

225

ally in the native language, “boys’ stories”—are told over and over, day or night, by one child to another. A sample or two should give a clear notion of their content. First let us consider the silly story of “The Big Mouse.” A big mouse went up on top of a house and slid down and one of his arms came off. When he went up and slid down again, another arm came off. The next time one of his legs came off. Then he went up with one leg and slid down and lost his last leg. Finally, he rolled up on top of the roof and lost his head and his head rolled all around. A pointed nose mouse came along and the big mouse asked for his head. The pointed nose mouse tried to lift it but it was too heavy. Then the big mouse asked the pointed nose mouse for his own head but it would not fit. It did not look very good either so he gave it back. That’s the end.

To show how this literary device can be developed, another adventure of “The Big Mouse” will be given. The big mouse went to his blackfish trap. He had no shovel to take off the snow. He couldn’t find anything with which to clear the trap so he felt his body and found his shoul¬ der blade. He took it out and threw it on the ground. It turned into a new shovel. He picked it up and shoveled away the snow. Then he had no ice pick so he felt his body and found a rib. He threw it down and it turned into an ice pick, so he cut the ice above the fish trap. Then he had no sack in which to carry the fish so he felt his body and found his stomach which he threw down and it made a good fish skin bag and he put the fish into it. When he put the trap back into the water, he felt all over his body and discovered his backbone. He threw it down and had a nice new sled. He put the fish skin sack with the fish on it. Then he had no string to pull the sled so he felt his stomach and discovered a rope inside so he took out his intestines and threw them down. He had a new rawhide line then which he tied to the sled. He put the rope around his neck and pulled the sled but the rope kept breaking. His head was all swollen when he got home from the bumps in the road. His wife came out and they brought the blackfish into the house but they had no cooking pot so he felt his wife’s head but it was too small. His own head was bigger so he took it off and threw it on the floor. It turned into a big new clay pot. He told his wife not to put the pot against the fire but his wife could not restrain herself and it broke in half. Then the mouse man and his wife turned into real mice. That’s the end.

A story which was not actually recorded as being in this class and yet is clearly related, can advantageously be presented at this point to complete the series. The story is called “Agegumuc,” the name of the man involved. A man was walking down the river on the winter ice when he suddenly had the feeling of just waking up. He looked around and saw a house. He went inside, but it was empty; there were no skins for beds or anything. He came out and went to the cache behind the house. It was full of trash—old plates, baskets, mats. The man returned to the house. It smelled only of dirt; all odor of fish had gone. He took off the smoke hole cover and made a fire. Then he went back to the cache again. It was dark. He searched around, and under the trash he found something flat. He took it into the house. It was a small, greasy piece of dry whitefish. He ate all of it and felt fine. Then he threw the fire out of the smoke hole. It was dark and he did not know where to sleep. He went to the cache again. There he found a little bas¬ ket and a wood bowl. Inside the basket were some moss for wicks, a fire drill, and a bag with punk and shavings. He took them all to the house and made a fire with them. He thought

226

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

the little bowl was good to urinate into, so he urinated into it. Then he put a wick into the urine and lighted it for a lamp. He put the lamp near his head, and when he was about to go to sleep, he blew it out. Just after he fell asleep he heard someone call “Agegumuc” through the smoke hole. He woke up and thought, “How does he know my name?” Then he went to sleep again. But the same thing happened over and over again during the night. Finally, he threw the fire drill sticks at the one who called through the smoke hole, and he heard some¬ thing roll down the roof. He went back to sleep. When it was daylight he woke up and went outside. A mouse was lying at the bottom of the roof. It was the one that made the noise. That’s all.

Certainly this is an inane story regardless of by what age of person it is told. It has been noted in connection with minor ceremonies that various privileges are passed on from one individual to another and also that certain crises in the life of a person may be particularly honored. These include such privileges as dancing at the mask dance, performing the role of the red mask at the animal’s ceremony, or that of the little drum man at the partner’s potlatch, as well as put¬ ting down food in the kashim at puberty, or at marriage, or when a boy kills his first large game. Likewise the ceremonial giving of a name and the cutting of holes for labrets may be added to the list. Although these activities must be considered in the larger sense as social, they can properly be mentioned in this place in so far as they are based upon a previous interpersonal relationship. This becomes apparent when it is stated that a father, for example, chooses a son whom he particularly likes for the honor of wearing labrets. In many of the other cases there is frequently an intimation of a personal element which guides the prestige seeker in his selec¬ tion of the child to be given ceremonial distinctions. Passing from these occasions which certainly end in social involvements, it is notable that a man who obtains a wolf or wolverine skin will often give the tail to his favorite son who wears it on his belt. Also a girl will be supplied by either her mother or a favorite grandmother with a bead ornament to be worn through the septum of her nose. The perforation for the ornament is cut by a grand¬ mother with a skin puncture awl on the day of the child’s birth. Sinew is left in the hole until the edges heal up, a process which may require several years. When¬ ever the wound festers, the sinew is changed. After the hole has healed perfectly, a string of very light small beads is put through it and later, larger ones are added until full size is reached when the child is about seven. The helix of each ear is perforated in similar fashion and the pendant beads are added when the holes have healed. In all such cases the presentation of the ornaments reflects or creates an interpersonal relationship. As a final example of an interpersonal relationship based on the gift of an adult to a child, necklaces can be mentioned. Girls like these and the presentation of one from a mother, grandmother, or any other female, is apt to denote meaningful interaction between the two individuals. Sometimes a small boy, being jealous of his sister, wants a necklace also. As a consequence, an affectionate grandparent may supply him with a single bead strung on a piece of sinew. The fact that such

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

227

a necklace is said in most instances not to be removed during the wearer’s life, ex¬ cept to enlarge the string, has obvious implications of personal attachment to the donor. Dependency relations. A parent or sibling has an interpersonal relation with a small child in which the latter is inevitably dependent. For a baby, the mother may represent the whole world of human beings. During the first years it may develop means of communication including a special vocabulary known only to the mother. The dual relationship of the child and the one who cares for it is de¬ veloped by the process of attending to the child’s needs. It must be fed, and while it is in the cradle it must be cleaned. Dressing a baby is no particular problem since the child wears only a short shirt which seldom needs to be removed, besides a small, close-fitting hat and a pair of slippers. When the little one is capable of sitting up on a bench supported by a pile of skin clothing, combination trousers and footwear are added, but since an opening'is left over the area of the buttocks, there is no necessity for repeatedly dressing and undressing the child. By the time the infant begins to crawl, however, fish skin coveralls are substituted for the com¬ bination trousers and footwear. The baby wears a skin shirt under the coveralls and grass is stuck into the parts around the feet to keep them dry and warm. Moss is also put into the seat of the garment as a diaper. With this stage in the develop¬ ment, the child begins to require increasing care. Although the fish skin coverall helps to keep the baby clean as it slides over the floor, the infant also has to be dressed and undressed in order to relieve itself if the older person caring for it is not going to be faced with greater inconveniences. Toilet training requires a vari¬ able period of time. Frequently, from this period onward or even irom an earlier time, the small child enters into a definite relationship with an older sibling who packs it around on her back using a carrying strap under the child’s buttocks which then passes under the arms of the bearer and ties across her chest. A baby can become so ac¬ customed to this contact position that it can run almost the complete gamut of infantile experience, asleep or awake, lying against the hospitable back. At about the age of three, the coverall period is passed and to the shirt of a child of either sex is added a pair of trousers which extends just below the knees and boots which adjoin and are each held up by a string which is tied around the belt supporting the trousers. At least during the early years after adopting this costume, the child must be helped in removing and putting on the garments when it is re¬ quired to do so. Such regular assistance reinforces the relationship between the dependent child and the one who cares for it. It may be mentioned in passing that, whereas boys are inclined to do without their boots in the summertime, girls are not allowed to go barefoot, it being believed that they would have large feet if they did so, whereas the culture ideal of the Ingalik is that women should have small feet. As part of child care, the necessity for helping small children through the en¬ trance of a winter house has already been mentioned. Sometimes a cradle swing

228

YALE UNIVERSITYt PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

is made for an infant. Some person will swing the child back and forth for a period of time, but never at night. It should be noted that a cradle swing is not shared even by a sibling, and when its use is ended it is put away with the child’s ordinary cradle to be discarded only at the time of death. The person who-cares for a baby generally cuts a little of the child’s hair over the forehead so that it will not get into the baby’s eyes. Generally, such hair is wrapped up in a piece of skin and put in a parent’s cache. All cut hair may be saved in this fashion until after a person marries and has to have his or her hair cut because of the death of a child. There¬ after, the hair is put in a spruce tree and the baby hair which has been kept in the cache is put up along with it. The place in which the hair is saved is a matter of individual preference, however, some people hanging even a baby’s cut hair in a tree. Intimacies. Some of the interpersonal relationships of children are related to sexual activities. All children are said to masturbate. On the one hand, parents punish the children if they catch them, which they seldom do, it being presumed that excessive masturbation will lead to overinterest in the opposite sex. To be caught is obvious evidence of excess. On the other hand, older boys and even grown men will advise young ones to masturbate if they discover them playing with girls. The advice is considered as educational. Young children like to build small camps or play houses of snow and brush or just the latter. In the summertime, a play house may be built up against a smoke house wall but not much farther away as the parents fear that the children may get lost. In the winter, the young ones have more freedom because it is much more difficult to lose oneself when one inevitably leaves a trail in the snow. The days are short, however, and when darkness falls, the children must come home. A boy and girl may play together if of the same age, but ideally a girl must not play with a boy who is distinguishably older. Even an eight-year-old boy is not considered good company for a younger girl. The rules are not always followed. A boy and girl who like each other may make a little grass house away from the vil¬ lage in the summertime. The boy sneaks back and takes one or two fish from the drying rack. This they eat for “supper.” Afterward they go to “bed” and engage in various degrees of sex play. Not infrequently, two boys and two girls will make a “house” together, thus following their parents’ pattern of two-family association. Then they pair off for the “night.” This type of activity starts at about the age of six or seven. Some children rarely participate and some never do. The girls generally go home earlier in the evening leaving the boys together to discuss their experiences. Thus they excite each other’s curiosity and stimulate further investigation of the fascinating world of sexual relations. Older boys may be questioned about sex and they, often as not, pass on what knowledge they themselves have acquired. Gradually, as the experiential data enlarges, some of the girls are frightened away and others take their place. By various stages, the boys ultimately come to share in the community knowledge, although some obviously do so more adequately than others. In any event, definite attachments are established between children for varying lengths

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

229

of time. It should be remembered in conclusion that in exceptional instances pre¬ puberty marriage takes place. When it does, the interpersonal relationship between the two children is a definite reality as in all marriages. Categorical Relations

Medication. To complete the presentation of data on interpersonal relations it will be necessary to consider briefly a few instances in which the behavior of one person to another is largely predetermined by special factors rather than by sex or age. The treatment of the ill or injured is an example in which one person per¬ forms a service for another because of a disability. Although a particular man or woman often enters into the relationship because of his specialized knowledge, in other cases it may be simply a spouse, a housemate, or any person who happens to be available that does so. In some instances the person with the disability may care for himself, but in the majority some other person is at least consulted in the process of obtaining relief. For convenience of reference, the various human tribu¬ lations to be dealt with will be paragraphed one by one. Burns. When a person has burned himself, someone will try to obtain some of the vasoline-like gum which appears on spruce wood when it is split. The gum is scraped off and heated, whereupon it is spread over the area of skin that has been burned. For very small injuries of this kind, nasal mucous is used instead. Bad burns, such as may occur when a pot of hot grease spills on someone, are treated by an application of red ocher. Fractures. Inevitably accidents occur that result in fractures or broken limbs. In such cases, the bones are restored as nearly as possible to their original position and the limb is then enclosed in heavy birch bark, the pieces of which are stitched together, and then the whole wrapping tied up but not too tightly. A rib which has been fractured is treated by placing a rabbit skin bver it with a supporting flat piece of wood which is held in place by a broad belt of tanned skin. Nose bleed. The simple method of stopping a nose bleed is to have someone tie up a little bunch of the bleeder’s head hair. If this does not suffice, some of the blood is streaked with the finger from the end of the nose up to the hair. Boils. The common boil is treated by applying a small piece of rabbit skin about the size of a thumbnail. The skin is simply moistened in the mouth and stuck over the sore. This is thought to make the boil come to a head because of the warmth of the rabbit skin. After the boil has broken, another piece of rabbit skin is applied just as though it were a wad of cotton. A boil may also be treated by lancing with a bone needle. Pimples. When a person has a plethora of pimples, it is helpful to make a lotion by boiling the inner fibers of birch bark in water. This remedy is then rubbed over the body. Freezing. If an individual freezes his hands or feet or other parts of the body, the area affected is rubbed with snow while outside the house in order to restore circulation.

230

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Headaches. The one simple remedy for a headache in winter is to put one’s head in the snow. In summer, the best one can do is to pour water on it. Fever. The treatment for a fever is the same as that for a headache. Some people survive it. Snow blindness. One of the most painful tribulations of northern people results from the effect of sunlight reflected by the spring snow on the ice. One treatment is the application of heat. This may be accomplished by holding the head over a pot of fish eggs which are cooking. Surgery may be attempted in order to remove the “blood vein.” A woman does this, females being more accustomed to delicate work with the hands. She may do this with a beaver tooth, a bone needle, or with a little bunch of hair doubled over. About three days of recovery are required fol¬ lowing the operation. Toothache. A common treatment for the toothache is to chew on the inner edge of a dorsal fin of a grayling which has been heated. If there is a cavity in the tooth, it may be plugged with a piece of bone. The bone is fitted tightly and then broken off. This process, of course, may break off the tooth, which is sometimes done any¬ way if the grayling medicine does not work. Earache. Compared to the hard treatment of a painful tooth, a gentle one is recommended for the ear. One need only burn the distal end of a ground squirrel tail and allow the smoke to enter the ear. Sore throat. Medicine for a sore throat is prepared by boiling down the inner bark of a spruce tree until the resultant liquid is thick like soap. This medicine is “strong stuff” and may be either taken internally or applied externally. Heart trouble. The proper method of treatment for heart trouble is to have a “heart” tattooed on the chest above that organ. The shield-shaped design which represents the heart is applied by a woman as females do all tattooing. Stomach-ache. There are various remedies for stomach-aches. Some individuals prefer to drink a medicine prepared by boiling the outside bark of a cottonwood tree. Others prefer a similar liquid, concocted by boiling red bunch berries (Comus canadensis), which is drunk warm. When it is deduced that the stomach-ache has resulted from eating too great a variety of food, a few ashes stirred in some water and swallowed may provide a cure. Crushed charcoal is even better than ashes. If this does not work, it is considered advisable to induce vomiting by inserting a piece of rawhide line down the throat. Constipation. The standard remedy is fish eggs cooked with the leaves of wild rhubarb (Polygonum alpinum var. Alaskanum). This mixture is cooked, strained, and drunk warm. In other cases, a piece of rawhide may be inserted in the rectum as a kind of enema. Excessive menstruation. Sometimes following a birth a woman may suffer from excessive menstruation. This may be corrected by bathing in a hot bath in which the juices of willow, cottonwood, and alder barks have been boiled together. Sick individuals are treated like children. Also, friends and relatives come to visit them bringing small amounts of food as gifts. Some individuals, however, are

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

231

afraid to visit the sick. There are generally two or three of such people in a village. Joking relationships. Within the group of individuals with whom one has face to face relations, there are a small number who are distinguished by the privilege of reciprocal joking. Those included are all first cousins both male and female. Good friends may likewise be embraced in this category but the privilege is not quite as great as with actual cousins. Also, grandparents may periodically adopt this type of behavior with their grandchildren, although the role is perhaps not fully reciprocal in such cases. No one else is included within the circle of joking relationship. The privilege involved is to play jokes without the other person having the right to become angry. For example, a boy may tell his cousin that he has just been eating “ice cream” at the latter’s house although nothing of the kind has taken place. A girl, on the other hand, may tell her cousin that the latter’s grandmother wants some grass for her boots. When the one informed goes to the trouble to bring it, her grandmother is completely surprised. Such tricks can be thought up with¬ out end, but obviously only periodically can they be successfully used. The pattern is much like the April Fool’s Day of our own society, but on an irregular and inter¬ mittent schedule. Joking may take place between two partners but it is not apt to be of this kind. Also a man may joke privately with a girl, but this likewise is of a different order. For instance, he may ask her for a “bird wing.” This will probably make her ashamed since the word for the female sex organ differs only in having the second consonant glottalized. “Close relations.” There is a special reference for individuals who are considered “close relations” or more exactly, the persons who make “ice cream” that a man does not eat. These are his mother, his sister, his brother’s wife, and his grand¬ mother. When a man grows old, however, the restriction is apt to be disregarded and he is given some of the “ice cream” made by these individuals anyway. Miscellaneous. One of the special behavioral situations existing between two individuals is that in which one of the persons involved is deaf and dumb. Sign language is used in these circumstances. The gestures are not strictly convention¬ alized and are difficult to comprehend if one is not accustomed to communicating with the person involved. Where such intercourse is frequent, a meaningful system does develop and consequently also a very special interpersonal relationship be¬ tween the individuals involved. Jealousy deserves special mention among interpersonal relationships. Not only do women become jealous of each other over men, but the latter become resentful in the same fashion when one displays obvious superiority, especially by accumulat¬ ing rather than sharing the material gains which result from his industry. If such an individual does not share his wealth in hard times, someone may kill him or at least rob his cache. Spiteful action of lesser significance may also occur. One man may cut the covering of another’s canoe or block up his path with wood. A recent expression of this attitude is to rub dog excrement on the man’s doorknob.

232

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Some final points of manners may be added in conclusion. The sniffling sound which is common when one has a cold is accepted, but if this noise is made by a person who is being talked to by one who is angry, the latter stops immediately. Then the sniffling is a sign that the person is going to die and -the angry person does not care to be responsible. Intentional winking is also improper behavior. It is all right to stare at a stranger just long enough to see if he can be recognized. Continual observation of a person is not good, however, and one individual does not look another in the eye. Children are taught such restraints from infancy. It is also notable that a person is not expected to scratch his or her sex organs in front of anyone who is not an intimate member of the family. Outside in the village one person who meets another should move quietly and pass slowly. INDIVIDUAL BEHAVIOR Dressing and Washing

Women. For most human beings, dressing is a personal affair and the Ingalik prove no exception. The typical married woman slides from underneath the blanket that she shares with her husband, leaving him to continue his rest. She will get into her undershirt, with the comforting ground squirrel fur turned toward her skin, by pulling it over her head. It is notable that she puts her arms through the sleeves after and not before her head is through the neck opening. Then she pulls on her lower garment, a pair of trousers combined with footwear. The upper part of this lower garment reaches well above her hips so that it can be securely tied with a babiche belt, one end of which she slips through a slit in the other and then wraps it around its own part making a timber hitch. If the morning is really cold, she will probably add a parka to her costume. This she dons by laying it face down on the bench and turning the tail flap back upon itself. Then she puts her head through the garment and finally works her hands out of the sleeves. Sooner or later she will leave the house for some reason. When she does so, she will fasten a second belt high around her waist outside of her parka, fastening the bone toggle on the right-hand end by slipping it through the slit in the other. This, of course, will keep cool breezes from going up under her garments. But even if there is no reason to be concerned on that account, she will not leave without her belt. It would be improper for a woman to appear on the public scene without this binding around her parka. If by chance the woman is about to leave on a winter journey with her husband, perhaps to attend a ceremony in another village, her procedure of dressing will differ slightly. After getting into her undershirt she will step one leg at a time into a pair of under trousers which, although having sufficient material above the waist to overlap the belt, reach down the legs only halfway to the knees. Once into these fur panties, she draws on in the same manner a pair of trousers which extend half¬ way between the knees and ankles. This latter garment, like the one it covers, is usually made of caribou skin but is made to be worn with the fur out while the panties are worn with the fur reversed. To complete this traveling costume, the

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

233

woman pulls on a pair of under boots made of caribou skin. First she will have to get some sedge or grass from the available supply and spread out a handful of the pieces about a foot long lengthwise under her foot and extending a few inches beyond her toes. She will then bend the front part of the sedge or grass back over the top of her foot and tie it in place with a few pieces of the same material selected for the purpose. With the sedge or grass bundling her foot, she puts it into an under boot, pulling the latter at both sides of the top with her fingers. She may have a little problem in getting things right, but she will work the under boot around with the hands as one works on a kid glove until it and the sedge around her foot are comfortable. The second under boot will, of course, be put on in the same manner as the first. When both under boots are satisfactorily in place, the woman then pulls on a pair of ordinary boots made from caribou leg skin with the fur out. These boots, not infrequently decorated, have flaps which extend over the front and sides of the legs above the knees halfway to the hips. At the top of each flap is a caribou skin line with a small bone fastened at its end. These lines are wrapped around the inner belt, the bones at the end preventing them from coming loose. Also, there is a string fastened at each side of the boot at the instep. The woman crosses each pair of strings behind the heel and brings them around, fastening them in front. With her feet properly covered, the woman needs only to pull on a pair of fur mit¬ tens to be well dressed for her journey. Dressing in summer is usually simpler than in winter. A woman may pull on an undershirt, but more often she is satisfied with one of her old winter parkas of caribou skin. It will not be too warm, for the hair will have been largely rubbed off. For the lower part of the body there are trousers like those worn in winter, but this garment has been made from caribou skin without the hair. Also, as may frequently be the case in summer, if the woman plans to spend her day in cutting fish she will probably add an over parka and over boots t6 her costume. These are made of fish skin and will prevent her underclothing from being completely satu¬ rated with the blood and entrails of the fish. Fish skin overgarments can be easily washed off when she has finished. As a final note on individual behavior with re¬ spect to clothing, it should be said that a woman in undressing merely reverses the processes that characterize the putting on of the various garments. Associated with getting dressed is the matter of washing. Ordinarily, a woman, like the men and older children in Ingalik culture, washes her face and hands in urine every morning. The woman simply wets her hands with the liquid in her own urine basket and then rubs her hands over her face. She then wipes her face and hands either with a towel made of soft, tanned skin or with an absorbent mate¬ rial manufactured from the inner part of wild nettles after the bark has been re¬ moved by rubbing it between mittened hands. This latter type of toweling is kept in little bundles for a woman’s morning toilet. After her face and hands are washed, the woman proceeds to fix her hair. First she combs it with either a porcupine quill comb or one which simply consists of a straight bone. Her hair, thus untangled, she parts in the middle and ties each of

234

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

the two sections close to her head with a little strip of wolverine skin. Then she proceeds to braid the hair on each side adding another fastening about six inches from the end, and finally interlacing the two braids together in front of her. When she finishes she throws this loop over her head to hang against her back. As a final touch the woman will smooth out her hair with a little whitefish oil or perhaps a bit of marrow grease taken from inside a caribou long bone. Also, a woman may find pleasure in adding a touch of this cosmetic to soften the skin of her face. After a menstrual period a woman washes her hair as well as her whole body by simply rubbing herself with her hands wet with urine and afterward wiping herself dry. A woman takes her bath in her own house during the winter, but when she is living in another residence, as during the summer fishing season, she will build a small temporary shelter for the purpose. It should be noted that women of nonmenstrual age rarely—possibly once a year—wash their hair or take a bath. Young girls in cleaning themselves frequently use urine from their mother’s urine basket. Finally, when all other aspects of dressing have been completed or later for some special occasion, a woman may adorn herself with various ornaments. These are usually made of dentalia beads and take the form of earrings, a nose pendant, a wristlet, or a necklace. The latter, however, when favored by a woman is seldom taken off. Also, we should remember the outer belt which a woman always buttons on when she leaves the house. Although a plain belt will usually be worn when working, a woman will happily replace it with one ornamented with caribou teeth, with porcupine quills and wolverine claws, or, best of all, with dentalia shell beads. A woman wears her outer belt just below the breasts. Men. The Ingalik male having allowed his wife to get up before him finally rises to dress himself. His manner of doing so does not differ greatly from that of his wife. His warm undershirt of ground squirrel or caribou skin with the hair turned in is somewhat easier to pull over his head because it only comes to his hips. Having put his hands through its sleeves, he reaches for his under trousers, also of caribou skin with the hair inside, and steps into one leg after the other. This garment is quite unlike a woman’s for, although the legs reach to his calf, there is no footwear attached. His regular trousers, however, which he pulls on over his under trousers are scarcely distinguishable from those which his wife uses when traveling. They are of caribou skin with the fur out but are a little longer extending to just above his ankles. A babiche belt is used to hold up the trousers in the same manner as has been described for a woman. Next, he will probably pull on his parka of musk¬ rat skins. Unlike his wife’s parka, it is cut straight around below his knees without a flap in the rear, thus making it easier to handle. At this point he has only to wrap his feet with sedge or grass duffel and insert them into under boots of the same type used by his wife. Finally he pulls on his regular boots which instead of reach¬ ing above the knees like a woman’s, come to just below the knees where there is a pair of strings at the back which the man simply brings around to the front and ties. The strings at the heel are crossed behind the ankle and tied in front in the

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

235

same pattern used by a woman. Should he decide to change his boots he pushes a heel loose and pulls the toe. Unlike the case of his wife, a man does not use a different costume when he is traveling away from home. This is understandable since a man spends little time inside the house anyway. It should be remembered that unmarried men sleep with most of all of their clothing on so they have no problem with respect to dressing. This simplification of matters also obtains when a man,-and sometimes a woman as well, travels wearing what is known as a “cut into strips” or blanket parka. This garment, which only includes a hood when made for a woman, is distinguished by its length. Since it reaches to the ankles it can serve as a kind of sleeping bag. When not lying down, the wearer pulls the lower part of the parka up around the waist where it is held in place by fastening the outer belt around it. This reduces the problem of dressing in the morning to a single unbuttoning. Besides the usual mittens worn, men may have a special pair with one or two fingers of the bow-pulling hand tailored separately. These gloves are of course worn especially when hunting. Also, hats should be mentioned as an item of clothing worn only by men and only in the wintertime. These vary greatly in form and material and are placed or pulled on the head in whatever manner the wearer chooses. As in the case of a woman, dressing becomes easier for a man in summer. Actually, he seldom wears an undershirt at all, but he does have a parka which has been especially made from caribou skins that have been tanned without the hair, rather than using an old winter one as women do. His trousers, in this case like his wife’s, are also made for the particular season. Old winter boots, however, are regularly worn in summer. Also, it should be said that men utilize fish skin over clothing even more than women do. These garments are most important when setting fish traps in the fall. A man is expected to wash his face and hands every morning. He does this by rubbing the surface with urine from his own box and afterward wiping it off with a soft, tanned piece of skin or occasionally with nettle grass toweling given him by his wife. Unmarried men wash in old men’s urine and small boys are taught to regard their grandfather’s urine as lucky. Urine may be used to wash in more than once and it does not matter who does so first. What remains is saved for tanning, the boxes being emptied into the urine collecting basket if a supply is needed. Women’s urine, of course, may not be used in the preparation of skins. As has been previously pointed out, men frequently take sweat baths in the kashim. They also build hemispherical shelters in the summer for the same purpose. Urine is not used in these baths since this detergent when combined with heat would be too strong. In the summer, stones are heated after which the fire and ashes are removed. Then the man bathing takes off his clothes and goes inside the shelter carrying a bucket of water from which he sprinkles the rocks and thus makes steam. When it becomes too hot to bear, he puts some of the water from his bucket on himself.

236

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

Men when bathing not infrequently wash their hair with urine as a deterrent to lice. People enjoy eating a live louse, sucking the juice and throwing the skin away. Nonetheless, their bites itch and cause people to delouse themselves. When the lice are really thick, a person will scrape the deposit from the edges of a urine bowl and mix it with the liquid which is at least three days old. This solution has a stronger acidic content than the lice can bear. On the other hand, the treatment is a little hard on human skin. Once washed, men untangle their hair with a goose feather quill comb and add a little caribou marrow grease or possibly whitefish oil. Like the women, they also grease their faces. Although few Ingalik men have much face hair, some have beards. Not liking the hairy growth, they may burn it with the hot end of a stick held not too pain¬ fully close against the face. The burned hair is then brushed off. Also, some young men pull out their face hairs with their fingers, and once in a long while an Ingalik man will have his head tonsured like an Eskimo. This is rare, however, and only done for fun. Fishing, Hunting, and Gathering

Dip net fishing. In the struggle for subsistence the Ingalik, like most of the north¬ ern Athapaskan people, look first to the water. If there is a shortage of food, it will normally occur in the springtime and consequently we may well begin our discussion of fishing at the period marked by the breakup of the ice in the rivers. With the movement of open water to excite them, men are anxious to glide once again across the bright surface of the river. As soon as the ice is well out of the way, a man takes his dip net with a handle more than twice his height and, placing it over the bow of his canoe, paddles out into the river. Reaching a place where he thinks there will be fish, he directs his canoe upstream and lowers the dip net ver¬ tically on his left side, paddling a little with his right hand to keep the canoe straight. In this manner he drifts downstream, the babiche mesh of his dip net opening like a bag behind him. Even if the netting is bunched against the frame, a fish swim¬ ming upstream will go into it. Once it is entwined, the fisherman can feel the move¬ ment of his finny catch and he pulls the dip net straight up by sliding the handle through his hand in jerks until he feels the frame. Then he brings the long handle down crosswise over the canoe creating a counterbalance which will aid in keeping the canoe upright. The dip net is twisted over so as to entangle the fish, then lifted into the canoe where the victim is killed with a club and taken out. This procedure is a great satisfaction to the fisherman and he will spend as much time as he can afford in dip net fishing. During April and May he will catch mostly whitefish of two kinds (ses, kodok?nei). Even after the important salmon traps have been set, he will still spend some of his time using the dip net with a larger mesh to add to the catch of his salmon traps. At the jackfish traps. Since the family will probably need more fish than can be caught in dip nets, most men take advantage of the heavy run of jackfish from the lakes into the rivers which occurs at the end of April and the beginning of May.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

237

Having built a fence across the deepest end of a slough with one or two other men with whom he shares the right to the fishing site, he puts his jackfish traps into an opening of the fence with the mouth of the basket facing upstream. The fat jackfish coming down from the lakes on their way to the rivers are plentiful in the flooding water. When the man visits his trap he takes along his fish rake in the form of a lance about two feet long with a straight three-inch caribou bone point in the end. When he reaches his trap with this implement, he drives the fish into the end of the basket with it, finally killing them with the point. The fish are taken out by removing the conical basket which comprises the end of the trap. The jackfish trap may be left in the water all winter, but it catches little. At the summer or whitefish traps. By the time June has come, a man is ready to set a trap at the principal site he owns which is on the main stream where the water is swift. This trap is constructed in three parts like the jackfish trap but measures perhaps a foot or two shorter. It is placed in a pocket at the end of a fence extend¬ ing out from the bank so that fish, blocked on their upstream journey, try to escape by turning offshore along the fence. Thus they swim into the pocket and finally into the basket which is held down in place by a triangular frame. Whitefish trap fences, like those for dog salmon, are put in place from a canoe. The man setting them does not go into the water which is too deep to work in anyway. Poles are pushed vertically into the mud of the bottom, with slanting ones lashed so as to hold them against the current and create a V-shaped notch at the top of each pair. The poles are usually found on the riverbank above the location for the trap and floated down to it. The fence is begun at the point most distant from the shore, perhaps only twenty feet when in a place where the current is the swiftest. Other sets of poles are erected, shorter, and about eight feet apart toward the shore. With the uprights in place, heavy poles about six inches in diameter are set horizontally into the V-shaped notches and lashed, thus connecting the posts originally set up. Finally, additional slanting poles are shoved into the bottom and fastened to the horizontal poles to supply necessary strength. Shorter sections of fence parallel to the shore are then added. With the supporting frame completed, the maker, balancing a section of lattice¬ like fencing on his head, pushes off from shore in his canoe and floats down to the framework which stops him. There he slides the section of fencing into the water upstream of the frame, pushing the bottom ends of it into the mud. The current holds the section in place while he ties it at the top with willow bark line. Then he returns for more sections until his fence is completed. Such fencing, it should be added, will last for two or three fishing seasons if taken out and for the winter piled with the basket trap off the ground near the site. When the fisherman visits his trap, he must remove the rear section of the trap and take it out of the water. In this summer trap the fisherman expects to find mostly whitefish of three kinds (ses, kodok?nei, conle’ga), but he may catch a few salmon and other fish as well. Seine net fishing. After a man has his summer traps set at his principal fishing site, he will probably devote some of the time between his visits to them to fish

238

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

for king salmon with a seine net. He prepares his net, which is made of large meshes of willow bast line and is fifty or more feet long (ten arm spans) and eight feet deep, by adding floats and sinkers two arm spans apart and then an inflated seal skin for a float at one end. Putting this equipment into a birch bark basket he steps into his canoe and paddles to a place in the swift water of the Yukon where he thinks king salmon may be running. There, when he is a little more than net distance from the shore, he throws the end of his seine with the seal skin float into the water and paddles toward the bank, feeding out the mesh behind him. With the net thus spread perpendicularly to the flow of the current, he and all his para¬ phernalia float downstream against the movement of any salmon coming up along the shore. When a fish tries to get through the net the floats will jerk and the fish¬ erman, who is watching, immediately surrounds his catch and pulls it to his canoe. Once within reach he knocks the king salmon over the head to kill it, pulls it into his canoe, and proceeds to stretch out his seine once more. It may be noted that the seine is also utilized in August for catching silver salmon. At the dog salmon traps. When the end of June approaches, it is time to remove the summer trap and replace it with one for dog salmon. The latter is a funnel some eighteen feet long, most of which consists of a tube about a foot in diameter with a small rectangular door on top near the end. This trap is set in the same place and essentially in the same manner as was the summer or whitefish trap and it becomes the most important source of food for the Ingalik people. During the runs, the dog salmon may appear in such quantities that they literally force each other farther and farther into the narrow tubular sections of the trap from which they cannot extricate themselves for lack of space to turn. As the fish crowd in, their weight makes the floating end of the trap sink down into the water so that the fisherman approaching in his canoe can judge the quantity of his catch. With his lancelike fish rake he will stab the fish to death and then take them out through the little door. Although the fisherman expects to find mostly dog salmon in this trap, there are almost sure to be some kings and a few silver, red, and humpback salmon. By the end of July the run of dog salmon is usually over, so the trap is removed and replaced by the summer trap that was previously there. The latter will be used throughout August to catch the same three kinds of whitefish as it did in June. Fish spearing. During the run of king and dog salmon, men spear the fish with long toggle-headed harpoon-like lances. This art is practiced most frequently on the principal side streams, such as the Anvik and Innoko rivers, at places where weirs or fences have been constructed to block the passage of the fish. Also, at the same period when a man wants to go hunting, he will leave a son or someone else to visit his fish trap. While on such an expedition he may use another lance with a detachable point to spear jackfish, salmon trout, or whitefish (k'eg(a)). This pro¬ cedure begins by watching the fish from a bank at the edge of a clear water stream. When he sees one in a position to be speared, he jabs his six-foot lance at it with¬ out letting go of the shaft. If his aim is good, the point will stick in the fish and

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

239

come loose from the shaft where it will be held by a short piece of babiche line. The fish can then be retrieved simply by pulling the lance out of the water. This is not the easiest way to catch fish, but a man who has a sharp eye enjoys it. One has to be careful, however, not to break the barbed point against the rocks on the bottom of the stream. That is the main hazard. When paddling on a little lake, a man on a late summer hunting trip may see some little whitefish or jackfish. Then he will take the double-pronged lance, which he keeps under the bow cover of his canoe, and attempt to snag a few for dinner. Needless to say, fish spearing is of minor importance in the overall economy of the Ingalik. Gill net fishing. Women are occupied most of the time during the middle of the summer in preparing the catch for drying which men bring in from traps, seines, and dip nets. Nonetheless, women still do a certain amount of fishing on their own. Visiting gill nets is entirely the work of women among the Ingalik. A woman may fish for whitefish (ta-7i) in a near-by lake. To do this, she takes a gill net, which is narrower but longer than a seine net, and colors it with blueberry or black cur¬ rent dye so that it will be less visible to this kind of whitefish which are not easy to catch. Her husband may help her to erect a post at a suitable distance out from the bank, but afterward she visits the net alone. This can be done because the top “backing” line of the net is inserted in a groove on the post and the two ends are fastened at the shore. Thus, by having a long enough line, the woman can pull the net in to the bank, slacking off with the free line as she does so. Then after removing the fish she reverses the process, restoring the net to its original position. This particular type of gill net fishing is, of course, limited to certain districts such as the region around Shageluk by the proximity of lakes containing the fish. Also, it is probable that the undertaking represents a relief from the arduous process of cutting fish for drying. Gill net fishing in the fall, however, is a much more consequential activity. At that time, undyed gill nets are set out from the banks in the eddies of the main stream primarily to catch the large whitefish (ses). The method by which a woman visits her net is the same as that described for summer lake fishing. The gill nets become an important source for food during the months from September to No¬ vember, especially since it is possible to keep the nets in the water during the period when the rivers freeze over. After the river ice has thickened a few inches so that it is safe to walk on, the gill nets are withdrawn and prepared for resetting under the ice along the banks of the side streams. This is done by first cutting with the ice chisel, a hole two feet in diameter or a little larger. Into this hole is pushed a net-setting needle which is simply a pole about sixteen feet long at the end of which is tied an ice line made of willow bark. The needle-like pole is pushed in the direction in which the net is to be set and when it has been inserted completely under the ice, a second but smaller hole is cut above its distant end with the ice chisel. To find the proper location is not difficult since the needle can be seen through the ice which is not

240

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

thick enough in the fall season to make penetration difficult. When a small hole has been opened, the net setter reaches into the water and pushes the needle farther along in the direction in which the net is ultimately to be extended. As this is done, care is taken to secure the end of the ice line which is gradually being carried from the original hole to the final one made by continuing the process that has been described. When a satisfactory distance for the net has been obtained, a post is put down in each of the end holes. These serve to support the gill net under the ice after it is drawn between them by means of the ice line. The net is held close to the bottom of the ice by the floats while the stone sinkers keep it in a nearly vertical position. When a woman comes to visit her net each day or two, depending upon her mood and the number of fish which are likely to have been caught, she cuts the two end holes loose with the ice chisel in preparation. The water having risen nearly to the surface, she removes the floating chips with an ice scoop—which is a large wood spoon with a hole in the center. Thus she can readily remove the free floating ice from the holes, leaving clear water which will neither freeze quickly nor impede her fishing. Thus prepared, she ties an ice line to one end of her net and loosens it from the post, at the same time securing the free end of the ice line so that it will not be lost. Then she proceeds to the other hole, loosens the other end of the net, and draws it up on the ice, taking the fish out as she does so. When the catch has been removed, the fish net forms a neat bundle of folds beside the hole. Returning to the opening above the post from which the net was unfastened, the woman takes the end of her ice line and, pulling it carefully, draws the bundled net off the ice into the water and back into its original position where it is tied and remains until the next visit. At the side stream traps. One of the most profitable fish traps to set may be placed in the smaller side streams during August for salmon trout and grayling. If there has been a good run of dog salmon with a plentiful catch, however, a man is not so likely to set a side stream trap. The reason is that it is a particularly cold and unpleasant task in the fall for, despite the benefit of waterproof boots and fish skin over clothing, water will seep in and chill the fisherman. When first set, the side stream trap—which is constructed in the same form as the whitefish and the jackfish traps but a little smaller—lies in the water with its mouth facing downstream at the entrance of a small pocket in the fence which ex¬ tends from one bank to the other. Salmon trout and a few grayling are moving downstream at this period and on reaching the fence are directed into the pocket from which they turn back into the funnel of the trap. The fisherman, to obtain his catch, removes the separable basket at the end of the trap. The real reward of the side stream trap comes in September, however, when the position of the pocket and the trap itself are reversed. This is an even colder occu¬ pation than the original setting but, if done, a good return in both salmon trout and grayling may be expected. It may be noted that this trap can also be set under the ice in March to catch the grayling and salmon trout which are returning down-

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

241

stream, and many young loche as well. Setting a trap under the ice is not nearly as cold an undertaking as doing so in the open water of the fall. At the winter or loche traps. After the ice is thick enough to walk on in the fall, a man is faced with the problem of setting his winter trap in the Yukon River. Doing so should bring his family a welcome supply of fresh fish during the cold season. It is a considerable undertaking, however, and requires a fence with a pocket at the end to be built out from the bank into swift water as was done in setting other traps in the main river. Frequently, however, a man arranges traps in pairs facing each other, thus catching fish moving either upstream or downstream which are directed into the traps by the single fence. Although this set is made in the swift current, it will not be at the same site used for the dog salmon trap and the summer trap because the river shifts its areas of greater movement seasonally. Not only is there much labor involved in setting the winter trap but also in visiting it, since the fisherman must cut the ice away from a space above the trap equal to something more than the length and width of the basket. Once this is done and the replacing water cleared with the ice scoop, it is no particular problem to raise the basket and to insert a pole crosswise under each end to hold the trap at the level of the top of the ice. The winter trap has a vertical door at the end, which has the obvious advantage of shortening the construction of the trap and thus minimizing ice cutting. The fisherman removes the loche with a special rake. This is a pole six to eight feet long with a straight point of caribou leg bone inserted through it. Thrusting it into the trap through the opened door, he hooks a fish and pulls it out. This he does with care in order not to touch the loche with his hands or, for that matter, any other fish which may have happened to be caught in the winter trap. The fish are piled with their heads upstream as is always done with fish caught in the rivers. The home of all fish is “downstream” and the Ingalik like to keep them facing in the right direction. It should be noted that the taboo on touching applies only to fish when caught in the winter trap, and not even to loche when taken in the side streams. When the trap has been emptied, the fisherman lowers it into the current again by means of the willow poles attached at the corners, returning to visit before the ice has grown too thick above the basket. The trap is used under the river ice all winter. If it catches a few dog salmon when first set in the fall, that is considered a lucky sign. Besides the loche, some jackfish are taken during the winter as well as some whitefish but the latter mostly early in the spring before the ice goes out. Likewise a few suckers may be caught at any season, but these are not much appre¬ ciated because of their many bones. Although these fish are seldom cooked, the skins of the suckers may be used. Being small, they require much sewing, but they are said to be the softest of all the kinds of fish skin which can be used for an over parka. In the same class of economically unimportant fish are brook trout which occasionally may be taken in a fish net set across a side stream. At the blackfish traps. The most important type of fish trap used in winter is set in small lakes for blackfish. This kind of trap, singly or in pairs, may be set under

242

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

the ice either at the end of a fence extending a short distance out from the shore, or be inserted into a “pothole” where blackfish come up to breathe. In the latter case, the trap—which is only about six feet long—is held in vertical position with its mouth upward a few inches below the bottom surface of the ice. When the blackfish rise to breathe, they turn and start down again frequently going into the basket from which they cannot escape because of its funnel-like mouth. The fisher¬ man will try to help the blackfish keep their breathing hole open by putting snow into it or, better yet, some grass with snow on top and then willow rods as a cover. Such traps are visited almost every day, the basket being drawn to the surface of the ice and the sticks forming the small end being simply untied so that the fish can be dumped out. Fish traps—and there may be more than one—set at the ex¬ tremity of a fence stretching out from the shore are visited in much the same manner as the winter trap previously described. Unlike the “pothole” settings, however, one cannot be so confident of having the right location, and blackfish traps are frequently moved to a place that it is thought may bring a greater reward. Although the blackfish trap is the main source of fresh fish in winter, it is most successful in the month of May after the ice has melted, when it is put down into the channel of the outlet of a lake, a rivulet not much larger than the trap itself. Resting in this runnel it may be almost completely filled by blackfish during a single night. In the morning the fisherman simply rolls it out and slides his catch up on the shore. Blackfish caught in the spring taste different from—and are pre¬ ferred to—those taken in winter. In winter when a man goes to a lake in order to fish, he may take a grandchild or two for company if he is old, or a friend if he is young, but usually he does his fishing alone. Fishing with a line. A discussion of fishing should not be concluded without men¬ tion of the hook and line. This famous tackle is used by the Ingalik only to catch jackfish in the wintertime. There is no question but that angling is motivated by a sense of personal pleasure which comes from trying to catch an individual fish. The fisherman, who must have both knowledge and luck, chooses a likely place at which to cut a hole through the ice about three feet in diameter. Having cleaned it, he lowers into the water his hook which is nothing more than a piece of caribou bone carved in the shape of a little fish about three inches in length with a hawk claw inserted for a barb. The hook is tied to a short pole by means of a piece of sinew line. Using no bait, the fisherman moves the hook slowly up and down. When he can pull a jackfish out of the water, he has a sense of elation. Some women also fish with a pole and line but only if of nonmenstrual age. Children, however, are not allowed to fish, both because of the danger to themselves and because of the special skill which is required in jerking the fish out of the water when it is directly below the hole. To pull it up otherwise would almost certainly cause the line to be severed against the sharp edge of the ice with a consequent loss of the hook as well as the fish. Caribou hunting. Group hunting of caribou in the fall has already been described, but a large number of caribou were taken in former days, when the animal was

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

243

plentiful, by individual effort alone for these creatures were valued both for meat and for their skins, the latter being at their best for clothing when obtained in the late summer. Then the hair is dark brown and shines except for the area around the belly which is always white. Since caribou make obvious trails in the hills, the hunter commonly builds a short section of fence perpendicular to such a trail and places one or more snares in it where openings have been left. Such fences may be from fifty to one hundred feet in length. The hunter must return frequently to see if he has been successful in catching a caribou, for a snared animal is an easy prey for wolves. A good hunter can also trail a caribou, or wait its passing, and shoot it with his bow and arrow. In the summer it is also possible to kill caribou when they are found swimming in the water, sometimes even in sight of the village. The hunter approaches in his canoe and stabs the animal with his lance until it floats lifeless on the water. Tying his packline around the caribou’s horns, he then tows the carcass ashore to butcher it. Moose hunting. Moose, like caribou, are killed whenever the opportunity offers, but it is not so easy an undertaking. Moose trails are more difficult to find than those of caribou because the moose are smart enough to stay around one area rather than to spread their trails about the countryside. Also, when a trail is located in the winter, the animal is not so easily approached. A moose has remarkable hearing and the hunter must come upon it with great care. One man can hunt moose better alone as two men are apt to make too much noise. The hunter may remove his outer boots as a precaution and, also, the lessened weight will enable him to run the faster. He may, however, wrap his feet with caribou or rabbit skin to deaden the noise of his footsteps. The moose puts an ear to the snow when it lies down and can hear extraordinarily well that way. Blowing wind is of the greatest advantage to the hunter as it overwhelms other sounds. The wise Indian follows the moose leisurely during the daytime, waiting to close in for the kill until evening when the animal is feeding on willows. The noise that the moose makes in breaking the willows is sufficient to obliterate almost any other. The best season to catch a moose is after a thaw in winter when the temperature falls again making a crust on top of deep snow. This may happen any time in Ingalik country when snow is on the ground. Such conditions impede the moose in running. If the hunter is fortunate enough to embed an arrow deep in the moose’s body, it is said the animal will not move any further, presumably because of the pain such action would engender. The hunter then proceeds to hit him with more arrows. The strength of a moose is such, however, that he may withstand all of the hunter’s arrows and, as long as he is on his feet, he is a dangerous foe indeed. In such a case, the hunter may fasten his knife onto the end of a twelve-foot pole and thus, keep¬ ing out of the reach of feet and horns, proceed to lance the beast to death. During the mating season a hunter may slap together sticks of spruce wood to simulate the call of rutting animals. Also, as with caribou, a moose may be taken when swimming in a lake or a river. Then he may be lanced if an approach is made

244

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

with care upstream of the animal as both moose and caribou can attack effectively downstream with horns and hoofs. Once dead, the moose is towed to the shore by fastening a packline around its horns (or around the neck of the animal if it is without horns). It is then necessary to skin the moose in shallow water because the carcass is too heavy for one man to drag onto the shore. The skinning of an animal may be delayed if there is no danger of freezing, but the internal organs must be removed soon after the animal dies or the meat will be spoiled. The blood is not drained from the meat, however. Bear hunting. Unlike caribou and moose, bear can only be hunted seasonally for this animal hibernates in winter. Of course, as has been told before, if one happens to discover the bear’s hole a group of men may provoke him to come out and then attack him with a lance. For the rest of the year, however, except when bears first come out to greet the spring, they are not easy to come upon. At that time, however, they may even attack a man while in the frenzy of their annual rebirth. Otherwise they run off as soon as they smell a man, but sometimes a hunter comes upon one busily gorging on rotten fish along the riverbank in late summer. If he has the courage, he may attempt to kill the animal with his bow and arrow, but it is difficult and dangerous to do. Usually, if bears are hunted, they are caught with toppling trigger deadfalls or with snares. If a man finds that a bear is making a regular track down to his fishing place on some side stream, he may think to set a deadfall is worth the labor. This is a considerable undertaking as a large and heavy fall log must be carefully sup¬ ported by a trigger, the end of which is so placed in a surrounding house that the bear must reach in through the prepared opening to seize the rotten fish. Even if the bear succumbs to temptation, however, the log which falls on him may neither choke him to death nor break his neck, thus making the hunter’s efforts all in vain. Another method to catch the bear is to make use of some large tree, such as a cottonwood windfall, that has crashed halfway to the ground close to the bear’s path. By a V-shaped arrangement of poles it is possible to spread a snare made from the heaviest sea mammal babiche in such a position that if the bear climbs the windfall, it will catch him around the neck. The bear, being suddenly stopped and choked, falls from the log into a helpless position. Of course, a bark basket containing fish guts and fish eggs must be tied above the snare to induce the animal to climb the windfall. This method of catching bears is as rare as that of using a deadfall and, all in all, the Ingalik are not much given to hunting these powerful animals. A bear, like a caribou or moose, sometimes may be killed when swimming and then towed ashore with a packline. Beaver hunting. Beaver afford a desirable food like moose and caribou, and although they are most effectively hunted by groups of men who use nets and break their houses, nonetheless, individual hunters not infrequently catch the animals in deadfalls. This method can only be used during the months of August

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

345

and September, however, for the trigger is made of willow which would not attract the beaver at other times. The deadfall used is a simple one comprising a platform about three feet wide and four feet across, loaded with dirt to give it a crushing weight. This platform is slanted over a beaver trail so that a beaver going to his wood lot will walk beneath it. There tempted by a succulent morsel of willow wood, he stops for a mouthful. Unfortunately for him, when he bites through the willow, the platform falls and crushes him. Muskrat hunting. Muskrats are excellent eating in the spring when they are fat, and hunters are tempted to try their skill with their bows and arrows at the edges of lakes where the muskrat houses are plentiful. A man can call a muskrat by means of a distinctive noise created by sucking air through wet lips. A muskrat may often swim right up to a man who does so. It is good practice for the hunter with his bow and arrow and, if one misses, there are usually more muskrats around to offer another target. Occasionally muskrats get caught in a blackfish trap in the fall. This does not overjoy the fisherman as muskrats do not have the flavor at that season which makes them tasty in the spring. Lynx snaring. The Canada lynx which has fine white meat is excellent to eat, and the Ingalik kill it any time they can for food. As with other animals, the value of the fur varies with the season. Despite the desirability of this creature, it is not simple to catch. The only dependable way is to set a tether snare in the snow where its tracks have been found. One has to build the snare house carefully, however, for a lynx is a suspicious animal and will not put its head into anything. Porcupine meat for bait is the best temptation although a lynx will not turn down a morsel of rotten grouse, ptarmigan, or rabbit if he thinks he can get it. Curiously, if the lynx once feels the snare tightening around his neck he will draw straight back to the end of the line, strangling himself without fury or frenzy. Rabbit snaring. During certain winters when rabbits are plentiful, they become an important item of food for the Ingalik. Although they are occasionally shot by a hunter with a bow and arrow, almost all rabbits are captured by women in a free tossing-pole snare set in their runs. Since it only takes a few minutes to set up a balancing pole to which the snare is attached by means of a small trigger stick, a woman may set a large number in close proximity to the village. Young women go in pairs because they are afraid of attacks by men. Sometimes young boys and old men snare rabbits also. Rabbits have the advantage of not only being good to eat but of being easily caught. Killing porcupines. The porcupine is thought of as the most fearless of animals and is much valued as a source of food in times of necessity because it can be killed with no other weapon than a club. Indeed, this is the customary method. Porcu¬ pines taste best when they are fat in August and September. In this season they can be found walking along the beach in the dark. Occasionally someone sets a rabbit snare in front of the slanting hole of a porcupine, but this is not very effective as the animal will probably chew the snare line and escape.

246

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

The hunting of other small animals. Ground squirrels which are not too plentiful are taken in tether snares in the spring when they are fat and their fur is in good condition. The meat is considered a delicacy which is unfortunately seldom enjoyed. Red squirrels, on the other hand, have an unpleasant taste and are seldom eaten. Most of them are caught by women who set a tether snare in the fork of a willow tied onto the trunk of a tree against which a pole has been leaned. The tree selected is one in which the squirrels have a nest, and they are especially easy to catch in the spring when running around most of the time. Boys sometimes hunt squirrels by pounding on a tree which can thus be shaken enough to tire the squirrels clinging to its higher branches. Wearied, a squirrel climbs down the tree part way and the boy shoots at it with his bow and arrow. More often than not he misses and up again goes the squirrel. Mountain sheep are not widespread over the Ingalik territory, but they can be hunted in the mountains to the east of Shageluk and also in those to the north of Russian Mission. If the hunter can corner one on a ledge of the steep walls of the higher hills, he will attract its attention by sticking his head out from behind a rock. The mountain sheep having caught a glimpse of the man will watch the place from which the head has disappeared thereby allowing time for the hunter to move around and approach from another direction. When in range, the animal is shot with a bow and arrow. The skin is valued for summer parkas and the meat is excellent to eat. Foxes are caught in a toppling trigger deadfall by men who want the fur for trimming clothes. The best place to set the deadfall is along the rivers in summer where the foxes go to scavenge or near the shores of lakes in the wintertime. These deadfalls are chiefly used in the winter months when they catch any kind of fox that comes along. The common red mouse that is found around the village makes the favorite bait. Occasionally a man has the opportunity to shoot a fox with his bow and arrow, and it is said to be possible to run down a fox in the snow and club it to death. A fox in soft snow that is moderately deep will run very fast, making long jumps as it goes, but after two or three hours a man can catch up with it because the fox has become exhausted. If there is not so much snow, it may take all day to tire the fox; on the other hand, a fox jumping (and almost disap¬ pearing) in deep, soft snow may be overtaken by a hunter on snowshoes in a mile or two. In any event, the fox, once killed, is valued only for its fur as an Indian would have to be very hungry to eat one. In the fall just before the freeze-up, a young man may decide to see whether he can catch some foxes by digging a pitfall in a sand bar where it is at least possible to excavate such a hole as is necessary although still a considerable undertaking. The pitfall has a cover which is supported by a single pole across the middle of the four- or five-foot square in such perfect balance that weight on either side causes this cover to give way. Once the pitfall has been built, the young fox hunter has only to put some rotten eggs for bait in the bottom of his pit, which is about seven feet deep, and hope some hungry fox will come to investigate. Once a fox steps on

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

247

the cover, it drops beneath him and he finds himself at the bottom of a pit from which he cannot escape while the cover rocks back into its horizontal position. Such a pitfall has the advantage of not requiring the owner to check on it very frequently. Like foxes, otter may occasionally be shot with a bow and arrow, but a hunter usually catches them in a friction trigger deadfall set in their regular trails between one stream and another. Since the otter use their portages only in the spring and fall, the deadfalls constructed on them are effective only during those periods. Otter are considered good to eat but the dark meat has a fishy taste. Mink are caught in friction trigger deadfalls which men set over their holes along the shores of lakes. Also, once in a while a hunter is able to kill one with his bow and arrow. Mink are eaten, their flesh being much like that of otter. The deadfalls which men set to catch marten are almost identical with those for mink except that they are placed along the marten trails rather than over holes. The common red mouse, fish, rabbits, or wild fowl may be used for bait. Marten are not fastidious in their taste. Deadfalls for the marten, which are valued for fur to be used in parkas, are set at any time of year. Likewise, the animal is con¬ sidered edible, its flesh being less strong than that of mink. In trapping these animals it is of great assistance to have the proper song. Ermine, or weasels as they are sometimes called, are caught by men in the same type of friction trigger deadfall as used for mink and marten. The flesh is considered too strong to eat, but the fur is valued, the white winter coat being preferred to the dark brown of summer. A deadfall for an ermine may be set at any spot in the vicinity of its tracks for these animals run around over the snow almost anywhere. Trapping the wolf and wolverine. The most powerful of all animals are the wolf and wolverine and their skins are most highly valued, serving primarily for decora¬ tion. The flesh of either animal is never eaten and it is believed that to do so would kill a man. The toppling trigger deadfall is the normal means of killing them, and it is generally set near a village when a wolverine or wolves come close to the settlement. Sometimes deadfalls are also erected in the hills at the time of caribou hunting when the smell of meat brings these beasts on a marauding venture. The wolf and wolverine are dangerous animals with which to deal, and success brings prestige to the daring hunter. The snaring and shooting of birds. Many birds are appreciated as food by the Ingalik and some are valued for their feathers which can be used for arrows or the decoration of masks. Bird claws provide fish hooks, some birds are stuffed for ceremonies, and others are eviscerated and used as bags. Most important, however, are the ptarmigan, grouse, and ducks. Women catch these birds in simple tether snares. In the winter, the snares are put in ptarmigan or grouse tracks with a little fence on each side to guide the bird to its entanglement. Then in the spring when the ducks arrive, similar tether snares are placed at the water’s edge. Ducks offer a pleasant change of diet at this season. Women may also snare geese and cranes

248

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

along with ducks in summer and in the winter try their hand for owls, birds which are not only excellent eating but which supply feathers for ceremonial masks. Sometimes goshawks, eagles, and sea gulls likewise fall prey to snares. Although women with their snares catch most of the birds, men also shoot them with their bows and arrows. This is particularly true of ducks which are hunted when molting in midsummer. However, any of the other birds which their women¬ folk snare will be a mark for arrows if the hunter has an opportunity. Swans and loons should be added to the list of birds that men will try to shoot and special mention made of the raven, a bird which is taboo as food and rarely killed. Its claws and skin, however, are valued for their use as amulets while its long feathers are the diagnostic mark of war arrows, their black color being hard to see. Gathering. Although in quantity, berries undoubtedly make up only a small part of the Ingalik food supply, they are valued for the variety which they add to a not too variable cuisine. The gathering of berries is primarily the province of women. Even if they set out in groups, their picking nevertheless is an individual activity which it has been considered proper to discuss in this place. Among the berries the winter or moss berry is one of the most important. It can actually be found in the spring preserved from the previous season under the snow of the hills. It is the favorite berry for “ice cream.” It ripens in July and can be picked for immediate eating on through October and November, but is generally preserved in baskets for the winter ceremonies. Mouse berries are also found in the spring particularly on sand bars when mice bring them up out of their holes one at a time when their houses are flooding. A person seeing such a pile, scoops the berries off the top of the snow and takes them home. In the fall a woman may see a little mound of earth the mice have made beside their hole. Then she takes a stick and pokes it down the hole to see if she can feel something like gravel. If she does, she digs down a foot or two and opens up a cache of these berries perhaps a foot in diameter which the mice have de¬ posited. Mouse berries are mixed with fish eggs while the latter are still hot from being boiled. Bunch berries are the second choice for “ice cream.” These can be picked in August for immediate eating and do not spoil when kept in birch bark baskets on which covers have been sewed. Cranberries are also important. The low bush variety ripens in August and can be picked until they are covered with snow. They are either eaten fresh or put away in baskets to be used in making “ice cream” when other berries are not available. High bush cranberries ripen at the same time and can be picked even after the snowfall as they rise above it. When ripe, they are full of juice and eaten raw. Also, it should be remembered that the boughs of this berry plant are very tough and always serve to reinforce birch bark baskets. Less important berries picked in summer include blueberries [bilberry or whortleberry], red raspberries, salmon berries, and wild currants. Also there are certain group plants and leaves which Ingalik women gather.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

249

For example, one variety of a parsnip-like tuber grows in patches near the Anvik River where the ground is low and sometimes flooded. It is procured in September by digging with a simple sharpened stick. This tuber is always boiled. There is also a wild nettle plant, the tops only of which are eaten when they appear in June like shoots of lettuce six inches above the surface of the ground. These leaves are boiled and mixed with mashed fish eggs to please the taste. One may be reminded that it is this same plant which is manufactured into toweling after it is grown. Wild rhubarb is another vegetable, the various parts of which add to the menu at different seasons. The roots are best in May when the plant has just begun to shoot up. They are gathered and taken home to be eaten raw. Roots of this plant become dried out by June and they are not preserved for winter. The stalks are also eaten raw and not kept for winter. They are best in June but also good in July; by August, however, the juice has left them. The leaves are gathered with the stalks. These are boiled about fifteen minutes and put wet into baskets as they come from the pot and stored for winter meals at which time they are mixed with raw fish eggs and eaten cold. Women also help themselves to fern roots, pulling them out with their hands in August. These they may cook fresh, first removing the branch roots, then cutting both branch and main roots up, after which they are boiled about twenty minutes and mixed with boiled fish eggs. In late June or July, the women gather the seed pods of the cottonwood tree. These may be gathered just as the cotton begins to show late in June in which case they are stored in the smoke house until they open up about a week later. Otherwise they are taken in July. This material is saved to become an essential part of the favored “ice cream.” Rose pods may also be used for “ice cream,” and these are gathered in the fall just after the freeze-up. If the pods are not thoroughly ripe, the seeds are removed. In August and September wild rose pods are picked for immediate eating in the raw state, while during October and November they are picked for preserving in baskets for the winter. There is a plant with big, green leaves like a cabbage which hangs over the wet ground in which it grows. These are found around the villages and in July, when full grown, women pull off the leaves until they fill a fish skin bag carried for the purpose. Preparation of this burdock (?) is begun by boiling the leaves in a clay pot for about three hours. Then they are removed by means of a spoon and put into a wood bowl to cool. When cool, they are mixed with raw dog salmon eggs and placed in a birch bark basket for storage in the underground cache. This mix¬ ture is not eaten fresh as it always tastes better after it has been in the cache for a while. During the wintertime, the amount that is needed is removed and mashed up with a wood pestle. This food looks like rabbit excrement but it can be kept all winter or even two winters although it becomes moldy on top. Everyone likes it. There is a green plant with a rough resemblance to parsley which is found around villages on sand bars. It is pulled up when full grown in July by women and brought home in sacks or sometimes just by the handfuls. Even a man in passing may grab some. This parsley-like plant is eaten raw as lettuce is and some people dip it in

250

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

fish eggs so as to coat it with oil. It is also considered good to eat with hardened crust of fish eggs which has a texture similar to cheese. This parsley-like plant does not keep. Finally, the collecting of birds’ eggs should be mentioned. Duck and sea gull eggs are the varieties most sought after, but any egg will be used except those of owls, eagles, grouse, or the. Canada jay. Most eggs are found by women seeking birch bark for baskets in the spring, but men also find them in season while hunting or fishing in the lake country. Once found, the eggs are carried home in a basket filled with grass when a basket is available; otherwise, a parka takes its place and is tied up with willow bark. The eggs are eaten fresh and not preserved. Some people suck them, but most prefer them cooked. In the latter case, the woman cooking them puts the egg in her mouth and wets it first so that the egg will not stick to the shell; then she puts it into boiling water and cooks it until it is hard. Travel and Transportation Introduction. Much of the travel which is undertaken by the Ingalik takes place in groups as has been made clear in our previous discussion of caribou hunting for example, and in the visits of people from one village to another when attending ceremonies. Families or house groups move from winter to summer villages together and then back again in the fall. We have also noted cases where couples are paired off in their travels as, for instance, a young man and woman recently married who go off by themselves because the husband is particularly fond of hunting. Elopers could be mentioned as well as men who are friends. Nonetheless, a great deal of ordinary moving around and about the country is done by individuals alone. Sometimes such individuals are hunting or packing in the game they have killed, sometimes they are on visits to other villages or simply moving about almost in the spirit of adventure to see what can be discovered. Actually, some people like to go a few miles away from their village and live alone for a month or so. The urge to do this generally comes either in the spring or at the beginning of the year when the days begin to increase in length. Either a man or a woman may live alone for awhile although if it is a male, he is generally young and, if a female, usually a widow and old. It is said that young men in such cases always keep a bow and arrow within reach. This is more than the usual need for the weapon and represents a satisfaction in the security it gives them from in¬ tangible things. Older people are generally more complacent in such matters. It should be observed that a man or woman who has an exceptional urge for seclusion is considered dangerous and is much talked about. Travel alone. Individuals traveling alone in summer may either go on foot or by means of a canoe. In the winter, recourse is made to snowshoes. In either season, however, the fundamental needs are the same—-one needs food and drink and as comfortable a shelter for the night as can be readily contrived. Travel in the summer has its advantages and disadvantages. If one goes any distance at that time of year, the hunting canoe is generally used. Skimming over

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

251

the water in his sleek little craft is a pleasure to a man and much of the time he is moving to and fro over the water to his fish traps, happily extending his journeys for any reasonable purpose. Some men unquestionably take so much pleasure in their canoes that they paddle off in the spirit of adventure. The excitement ulti¬ mately relates to hunting, however, and the man will follow up various streams in search for fish and game, sometimes carrying his canoe considerable distances from one waterway to another. This is done simply by resting the gunwale on one shoulder and grasping a cross strut with one hand. Occasionally a man who goes traveling on foot reaches a place where he decides to take to the water In that case he may seek out three large dry logs about twelve feet long which he drifts alongside each other and lashes together. Such a construction is necessary when one is traveling on foot and reaches a river that is wider than can be bridged by felling a log and yet must necessarily be crossed. If a hunter should be so successful as to kill several moose in the regions of the upper Anvik or Innoko river, he may make a small moose skin boat to convey down the stream his considerable supply of the meat. In the same circumstances, if birch bark is available, the hunter may choose to make a canoe. By whatever method one travels in summer there is always the problem of finding a comfortable place to camp. The scourge of the north is the mosquito, and a man who is traveling by water will always try to find a place on an island or a point of land where the wind blows the insects away. When traveling on foot this is generally not possible, and a man who lies down to sleep in the forest has a problem. If he is content with only a nap, he may build four smudges, one at each side of his head and one at each side of his feet, depending on their smoke to reduce the attack of the mosquitoes. To spend the night, however, the traveler will build a little shelter of dry willows, broken off by hand at the river’s edge, keeping a smudge smoking in the center. Even so, a man may wake up to find the mosquitoes eating him alive, in which case he starts up the smudge again to reduce the number of the pests. Obviously, one needs to develop tolerance to rest under such conditions and an Ingalik can drift off to sleep while being frequently bitten. Nonetheless, the un¬ pleasantness curtails travel on foot to some degree during the summer and especially in July. A traveler naturally needs water from time to time but this is not difficult to find in Ingalik country since small streams are plentiful. People like to drink clear water rather than that which is colored by turbulence. The Yukon River is yellow in the summer and this water the people will drink if that from a clear stream can¬ not easily be reached. Fortunately, the Yukon becomes clear in the winter and is excellent to drink if one can make a hole through the ice. In summer, a cold drink fresh from a spring is greatly appreciated. It should be noted that neither a traveler nor anyone else will ever drink rain water as this gift from heaven is regarded as poisonous. Part of the problem of traveling at any season is not to get lost. Careful exami¬ nation of this proposition shows that it is not quite correctly stated. Inevitably an

252

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

individual moving a great distance on foot through the forest will find himself lost in the sense that he does not recognize his surroundings. What becomes necessary is to know the general area so well that one cannot travel far without arriving at a familiar place. At that point the traveler reorients himself and continues on his journey. Such natural features as rivers and tributary streams as well as highland ridges help to give the traveler his directions, but it is the more intimate elements of the surrounding terrain such as large rocks, distinctive trees, and little meadows that are the signposts of the forest. Gradually the young man extends his knowledge of the country and becomes more and more secure. Nonetheless, the best of hunters can become bemused and even in the least expected circumstances. A recounting of an actual event will illustrate how easy it is to become confused. One summer day a middle-aged man, familiar with the country for a hundred miles around, went down to the end of the hill behind Anvik village looking for birch bark. After a while he started home and before long he came to an old trail winding through a narrow little valley. He followed it about a mile or so until he came to an abandoned house. Looking around he did not recognize the building and turned back, ultimately reaching the Yukon River about four miles below Anvik village. He finally reached home by walking along the beach, stopping for something to eat at an Indian’s camp. He told what had happened to him and his friends laughed and said, “You must be good and crazy.” Somewhat later the man who had been lost discovered that the old house at the end of the trail which he had not recognized was only about 200 yards from Anvik village and then remembered that many years before he himself had helped to cut the trail which led from it to the river so that cord wood for the steamboats could be hauled. Analyzing the circumstances, the man presumed that he had completely lost his bearings by just walking up and down looking for birch bark and eating blueberries. After he had seen the old house and turned back realizing that he did not know his way, he felt uncomfortable. As a seasoned woodsman he was in no sense afraid but he had a strange feeling as he thought over and over again, “Who made this trail?” Sometimes a man traveling alone never returns. This, however, is presumed almost certainly to be because of some accident rather than the inability to find his way home. It is recognized, however, that a man who thinks he is lost suffers psychologically. “His brain gets empty,” the people say. Reasonably enough, if a man goes off for a day and does not return, his wife or family will become concerned. For instance, an Indian may say that he is going across the Yukon to hunt for wood for fish trap sticks. If he does not come home, some friend or relative will go after him, locating the place he left his canoe. From that point the searcher will enter the woods and look around hollering “wooo” as an owl would as loud as he can. Indeed, the Indians say this is the only way one can make a really loud noise.10 10 It is interesting that Thoreau writes of Indians using a cry like that of the owl to locate their friends. I mention this as the source might be readily overlooked. The Maine Woods (New York: Norton, 1950), p. 143.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

253

If the searcher does not find the lost man within a reasonable time, he returns to his village. The next day perhaps four to six men (but no more) will set out to search for the lost individual. They may continue their efforts for a few days, but if with no success, they come home and the matter is considered ended and the man dead. Actually some efforts are made by individuals to prevent being lost. Tops of willows may be broken to mark the way. Portages are sometimes distinguished by peeling the bark from a spruce or birch tree so that the sign can be seen from the water. On the other hand, such marks may be avoided because an individual hunter does not wish to attract attention to a place where he has found a wealth of game or other materials. On the other hand, when a hunter has been successful and ex¬ pects someone else to come for the meat, he will have to mark the place. This he may do by stripping a tree of its branches except for the top ones which are left as a tassel or by putting up bunches of moss or grass in the trees. Whatever is done, however, the problem of locating things is more difficult in the summer. Traveling in winter has great advantages. There is no problem of crossing open water and one leaves a more or less definite trail in the snow. Even in the winter, however, a hunter can get lost as is illustrated by the following account. A young man who had just married set off to hunt near the head of the Bonasila River. He had traveled all day over the snow and was returning at nightfall. In the near darkness he came upon a trail which he did not recognize as his own and followed it. Unfortunately, he took the wrong direction and covered a great circle returning to the point at which he started. So confused was he that he apparently went around twice during the night. At dawn he was exhausted and sat down to look at the snowshoe tracks. He measured them with his own snowshoes and then realized that it was his own trail that he had been following. This discovered, it was easy to return to his camp, but he was so exhausted that he went to bed without eating. Although there are no mosquitoes to bite one in the winter, which is a blessing, nevertheless travel on snowshoes can be exhausting as a man must run much of the time. A man walks out of the village slowly with quiet dignity, but once he has disappeared from sight, he usually starts to run. If he did not, he would probably become cold. Although individuals vary in the amount of running that they do, the practice is greatly encouraged among both men and women from childhood. Somehow the cold, embracing air makes running easier than it would be in summer and the Indians pride themselves on their endurance. Running is also important because success in hunting is to a considerable degree a correlate of the amount of area that a man can cover in a day. Running, therefore, materially adds to his chances of discovering game. The snowshoes he wears are no burden, for he soon becomes unconscious of these appendages. There are times, however, when snowshoes are of no assistance. On glare ice, for example, one’s problem is to keep from slipping. If there is much going back and forth to be done as on lakes, straps may be sewed around the boots to keep them from slipping. Two pieces of semitanned skin, each about three quarters of an inch in width, are fastened beneath the ball

254

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

of each foot by sewing them to both the soles and top of the boot foot. As a con¬ clusion to the general discussion of travel, it may be noted again that a traveler does not approach a strange village at night and that even in approaching one’s own, noise is avoided. If any person asks, “Who is coming?” it is essential to identify oneself immediately. Also, although old women are free to travel anywhere any time, an unmarried girl or a young married woman rarely travels any distance alone in the dark. The same limitation naturally applies to small children as well. Packing. The transportation of various materials is an inevitable adjunct of travel since various things must be moved with intermittent regularity. Thus fish and game as well as wood and water must be packed from one place to another. Most of this carrying is an activity of individuals although many perform it. Actually, most of the heavy transport is undertaken in the summer and by women. Most of the carrying that is done by men is connected with hunting. If an Indian has killed some kind of small game, he either puts it in a moose skin pack sack or ties the feet of the animal with his pack line and throws it on his back. When the hunter has the good fortune to kill a large animal, such as a moose or caribou, he is most likely to bring part of the meat home and send a friend for the remainder. This, of course, has the advantage of leaving the heaviest work to a man who is not tired from the chase. The task of bringing in the meat will probably involve the use of pack sticks as well as the special pack line breast piece and shoulder pieces. As can be quickly inferred, the pack line itself is of great importance to a hunter and a traveler rarely sets off without one looped double around his waist. As for other things, they are mostly carried by women. Fish, for example, which are brought from the traps in a man’s canoe are transferred from the beach to the cutting boards or caches by women. Children of both sexes may assist their mother although women are most often seen conveying water from the river and wood from the forest to burn in their fires. In building or other heavy work, men may be ex¬ pected to transport the heaviest logs. A man picks up one end, puts his shoulder under the piece, sliding it farther and farther along until he thinks it is in the middle. The he allows the other end to swing up. At his destination, he rolls the log off his shoulder onto the ground. The danger comes from the log dropping on top of smaller pieces which snap up and strike the carrier. Also, one must watch to keep one’s foot from rolling on sticks. Falling logs are considered a danger. Despite the weight of timber, women, who are often as strong as men, may be seen undertaking the same heavy labor. As a final note on transportation, the packing of grass may be mentioned. As much grass (actually sedge)—which may be two and a half feet high—as can be held in both hands is pulled over sideways to reap it, then it is piled into sheaves a foot or two in diameter and tied with a bunch of the same material. The sheaves are piled on top of a doubled willow bark line with which they are bound into a bundle that can be placed on the back. Women usually transport these bundles but if a man does so, his method of carrying is the same.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

255

Manufacturing

Explanatory statement. The Ingalik spend a great deal of their time in making various objects for the own use as well as for trade with neighboring people and particularly the Eskimo. Most of this construction is carried out as an activity of the individual and the related behavior should logically be discussed at this place in our monograph. Since it was considered more useful to include this data on the behavior involved in manufacturing with the description of the resultant objects, the information appropriate to this section was published in the previous volume, Ingalik Material Culture, to which the reader should turn if his interest disposes. Were all the data repeated here, it might require a hundred additional pages of text. The processes connected with the acquisition of wood, however, are so basic to Ingalik behavior that it is desirable to present them in a reorganized form, although most of the data could be assembled from the descriptions of various manufactured articles presented in the earlier monograph. Acquiring wood. The old men always preach the importance of two things— fish traps and fuel—and the acquisition of suitable wood is the essence of both. Some Ingalik needs for wood are satisfied by drift logs and poles which the large rivers supply in generous quantities. The Indians select suitable pieces from the shores above their camps, lash them into rafts, and float them down to their homes for future use. Dry, branchless poles can also be found in quantities in areas where a forest fire has killed off young trees some years before. These need only to be pushed over to carry them off. The green wood of standing trees is not required for the manufacture of many Ingalik objects which is fortunate because to obtain such material with stone tools is an arduous process. There exists one outstanding exception, however. Fish trap sticks must be split from green spruce, for dry wood has no oil and would not stand the strains to which a fish trap is subjected. This work is so important that some men who become experts devote practically all their time to it. To begin, the trap stick maker must locate a suitable, straight-grained tree. When his eye is caught by a spruce that looks satisfactory, he peels off a section of the bark about a foot long. A true expert can then tell if the grain is straight by simply looking at the exposed trunk. Others have to make an empirical test with an ax, cutting two notches about eight inches apart and splitting off a piece of the wood between them. If the grain F that de¬ sired, the section will come free easily and have straight edges. This test only works in the spring or the fall, for in the winter the tree trunk is frozen, and in the summer there is too much sap in the wood. Once a tree has been selected, the man gets down on both knees and removes the bark around the bottom. Then he takes his stone ax and smashes the fibers in a ring girdling the trunk close to the ground. The pulped fibers he then burns by means of blazing sticks. This process is repeated with emphasis on one side until so much of the trunk has been consumed that the tree can be pushed over. The valuable log must then be burned off at the other end to free it from its branching

256

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

crown. It may be added that green birch trees are treated in the same fashion occa¬ sionally, as for example, when the wood is needed for making heavy mauls. Dry, standing birch trees are more frequently in demand than green ones, and these are felled by a somewhat different procedure. A whole pile of birch bark is wrapped around the tree and tied with green willows a few feet above the ground where the trunk has not spread out. When the bark is ignited it burns with great intensity and will ring the tree to a depth of from two to four inches if the ash is continually cleared away. Of course, the bark of the tree burns upward along the stem, but that makes no difference. Then a fire is built at the base, mostly on one side, and kept going all day, the one who is doing the work also poking intermit¬ tently with a long pole at the ring to keep the trunk from burning higher. After a whole day of this procedure, the tree may then fall by itself. The dry branches are broken off with the aid of a heavy maul and the trunk burned into the lengths desired after which these sections may be split down the middle. Dry spruce and, even more rarely, tamarack may be obtained in this fashion, but never cottonwood trees which, when dry, rot at the base and fall of their own accord. Dead, standing wood, when wanted merely for fuel, is split all the way around the butt with wood wedges driven in with a maul. Once felled, the tree is further split up and broken with a maul. The small chips are carried home in a fish skin bag to start a fire in the morning. The desirable, dry spruce root near the trunk of the tree, it may be added, is always obtained from drift wood, for too much work would be required to dig up the base of a standing spruce and to burn the material free. Splitting wood. When a green spruce is felled and burned to size, it is usually split once and then the halves split again so as to remove the heart (by diagonal splitting) and render the desirable pieces easier to carry. The work is accomplished by in¬ serting a pair of wedges into a groove about half an inch deep that has been made with a stone ax along the plane of splitting in the butt end of the log. The wedges are large ones fashioned from drift logs, and they are driven into the tree by use of a maul. Curiously, the heart wood is always left lying on the discarded top of the tree. After being brought home, the long sections are divided again and again into thinner and narrower sticks, this finer splitting being sometimes done with the more valuable wedges made from horn or from the red-grained wood of a green spruce tree. The art of stripping down a section four to six feet long to slivers three sixteenths of an inch wide and three thirty-seconds of an inch thick must be seen to be truly appreciated. In the hands of the expert, it seems nothing at all. He inserts the tip of a little wedge like a knife point into the end of the wood; then he twists a little, following the crack with the wedge point which is pressing the wood against the ball of his thumb; twist, twist, twist, and in a minute the long, slender stick snaps off, a miracle of delicacy. Such pieces, made for a blackfish trap, are so fragile that they do not have their sharp edges turned with a beaver tooth drawknife as is usually done. All year around men work on fish trap sticks and probably on no other kind of manufacturing is so much labor expended.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

257

Child Play and Miscellaneous Aberrations

Introduction. As a comment on this final section of the data on Ingalik social culture, it may be mentioned that certain matters have not been described. In particular, behavior connected with religious ideas such as is involved in the per¬ formance of incantations or magical songs, as well as that associated with amulets, has been held over to the following volume on mental culture because it has proved rather meaningless to describe such activities without a full presentation of the ideological background. Also, with respect to child play, it may be recalled that some of the data have been covered in the section on family life, and also that those entertainments that involve material things have been dealt with in the volume on material culture. These latter, however, it may be helpful briefly to review if only to preserve a desirable balance in the presentation of the ways in which a child amuses himself. The degree to which a child plays alone is, of course, a variable factor and de¬ termined largely by the circumstances and the attitudes of its parents. As has been pointed out in several connections, small children are kept close to the house. Usually, there are other children in the same residence or adjacent ones, but this may not always be the case especially during the summer when families spread out to live in their fish camps. Also, the segregation of sexes has some bearing on indi¬ vidual play as well as the temperament of the child himself. In any event, the descriptions of children’s amusements which follow are those which involve indi¬ vidual behavior, although certainly at some times more than one child participates in the procedures. Toys. The bark whistle is an example of a child’s toy and one which may be used by a boy alone if only because whistling is regarded by the Indians as un¬ pleasantly suggestive. First of all, the whistling is associated with the supernatural figure known as the Nakani, or bad Indian, who is reasonably feared. Therefore, whistling at night by a child will cause him to be punished. Even in the daytime, whistling is not enjoyed by adults as it is believed that such sounds will cause winds to rise and winds may create difficulties or even danger for a man paddling his canoe in the summer, the only season in which willow bark whistles can be made. Playing with tops is another matter, and a boy may be encouraged to spin his small wooden disk through which a spindle has been set. A child can amusp himself quite a while twirling his top on any hard flat surface that is convenient. Some toys are noisy and although the Ingalik do not particularly like them and certainly will not tolerate them at night for fear that the sounds will attract evil spirits (giyeg), nevertheless, they give in to their children’s desire for creating a din. The least unattractive of the various articles which are used is probably the buzz, a four-inch disk with a serrated edge which whirls around when the wound-up cord on which it is suspended is pulled from both ends. Very similar to the buzz is the bull roarer, an even more simple contraption made from a narrow strip of spruce wood about a foot long. This piece, like the buzz, has the edges serrated. To a hole in one end, a six-foot babiche line is fastened which enables the boy to whip the

258

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

bull roarer around his head and produce a loud burr. Even more complicated and ear-splitting are various forms of ratchets. These gadgets function by making a small stick continually snap when the ratchet is rotated. The boy has to find a man who is really fond of him—his grandfather perhaps—to acquire, such a toy, since a whole day may be spent in its manufacture. A child with such an implement can gain considerable attention until his parents persuade him to relinquish his pastime. The sling, a small square of tanned skin with short lines attached to two of the opposing corners, supplies some amusement in the summer. A small stone is used as ammunition. It is placed in the square of skin and the sling is swung in a hori¬ zontal circle above the head a few times so that when one of the lines is released, the stone is projected through the air. No one has ever been known to use the Ingalik sling with accuracy so it must be considered a toy whether played with by boys or by men. A little girl generally has a doll made by cutting out a roughly human form from some convenient material and stuffing it with rabbit skin. This mannequin may have some features of a face marked on it and sometimes wears removable clothing as well. As with the noisemakers which boys play with, the parental feeling toward dolls is ambivalent. In theory they do not meet with approval and some families will not allow their children to have them; on the other hand, there are fathers and mothers who are lenient. By and large, the people do not like toys and they are always saying evil spirits go inside them. Apart from intangible dangers, children may cause some realistic annoyance to their parents by their selection of playthings. For instance, a child may borrow one of the family’s large wood urine bowls and use it as a toboggan in which to slide down a snow-covered hill. This is a delightful pastime no doubt for the child, but it also opens up the bottom of the bowl which ruins it for use as a storage for liquids. The family reaction may be imagined with a touch of tolerance added. Also, children cut themselves with great regularity playing with tools purloined from their mothers’ sewing bags. What they get their hands on most readily are the bone boot crimpers and women’s awls (A and B). If a child cuts himself and is not too unhappy, he will simply lick his wound. The only really approved toys are the miniature weapons and traps made for a boy, and the miniature pots and baskets constructed for a girl. These have obvious educational aspects which are considered a desirable introduction to the serious process of learning one’s necessary role in the culture. Also, in the list of amuse¬ ments, one must include the chewing of cottonwood fibers and spruce gum. Children, and it may be added some men, like to chew the black inner fibers of cottonwood bark which is actually done not so much for the chewing itself as for the pleasure of spitting the black juice which results. Spruce gum, however, is said to have some merit in itself and children like to collect the fine yellow gum which appears on the outer surface of spruce bark in the spring. This extremely sticky stuff will cling to the teeth when first put in the mouth unless diluted with snow. After having been chewed a while, the gum can be formed into a ball which is not yellow, as

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

259

might be expected, but light pink. The child likes the chewing more than the taste. Girls, when they have tired of chewing gum, may place the ball in a special bag, often of elaborate style, made for the purpose from fish skin or caribou without the hair. The secret of a young woman’s attachment to this practice relates to the belief that the breasts of a girl who chews gum grow large which to the Ingalik is a desirable thing. Pets. Pets of various kinds are captured for the entertainment of children, and some older individuals enjoy them also. These animals or birds are never kept in pairs, however, for to have them breed or even have young while in captivity would be considered a bad omen. Pets, although sometimes not so gently treated, are never killed after having become associated with a family. The one exception to this rule is that of a home-loving bear which, having grown too large, is set free but refuses to leave the village. Such behavior on the bear’s part can be dangerous for the inhabitants and consequently such an animal must be killed. As anyone should know, there is something extraordinarily appealing about a bear cub, and a child will adore his father if he brings one home. The tiny bear is tied to a stake near the house and being omnivorous is easily fed. Bear cubs, of course, are caught in the late spring or summer and at that age their natural dispo¬ sition soon makes them friendly and playful. Children are warned to be careful, but there seems to be no serious danger involved in playing with a bear friend. In the fall, about the time of the freeze-up, when there is a little ice at the edge of the river, a hole about three or four feet deep is dug in the bank (or in the ground if a bank is lacking). Grass is put at the bottom of the hole which is left open. The pet bear is then taken to his new home into which he goes happily. Once in a great while the bear will poke his head out and have a look around because he does not feel like sleeping so much until winter really comes. Then snow covers the hole. A pet bear may be kept during two summers, but after that he is turned loose because of his size. As has been said, such a bear will not be knowingly killed unless the animal becomes a menace to the village. Even in that case, if the bear’s life is taken, the meat of this pet will not be eaten. Occasionally a young fox is held in captivity, but although a fox may be enjoyed by the children, it is not really a pet. It is tied at the end of a stick as one fastens a dog. After a year when the fox is grown, it is killed for its pelt. A mink may be similarly kept. A rabbit makes a friendly companion for a child but considerable work is re¬ quired to find feed for the animal. The rabbit lives in the house in a sizable cage constructed by a parent who uses the fish trap technique to make it. Occasionally wolf pups are raised in captivity, but again these creatures are not exactly pets. Although a child enjoys looking at a small one, he is warned to be careful. Even young wolves are dangerous, and care has to be taken because they will bite if given the chance. Dog puppies are a different matter and children adore them. Dogs bite too, but generally without intent to do serious injury to their masters. The attitude is reciprocal for it is by no means unknown for an Indian

260

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

to become so angry at his dog that he bites it on the ears or on the end of the nose, neither of which acts the dog considers playful. Birds not infrequently are kept as pets housed in cages made in the fish trap technique. The two favorite species are the purple grackle and the fox sparrow. Such birds are caught under a light platform deadfall, triggered by a string held in the hands of a boy about fifty feet away. Worms serve for bait. Robins, ruffed grouse, owls, and butcherbirds add to the list of these entertainers, but the latter two create some problems in feeding. For an owl one has to find meat as it is not accustomed to eating fish. A large bird of this kind, incidentally, is held captive by tying a line to one foot rather than by enclosing it in a cage. Like the owl, the butcherbird will not eat fish so a child may soon tire of finding food for it. When that time comes, he will let it fly free. Children are not always so kind to birds. For example, there is an unidentified species which is yellow around the eyes, has yellow stripes, and a tail that moves up and down all the time. Because the singing of this bird is presumed to cause rain, when boys catch them they pull out all the body feathers and then let them loose crying, “Shine with your body!” This of course means “make sunshine—not rain!” There is another unidentified bird with large eyes which always makes a noise when it sees anything move.11 It is this bird which is said to make its cry when the ice is about to start moving on the river in the spring. When a boy catches one, he may put out one of the bird’s eyes or sometimes he puts a feather through its nose. These two birds are said to be the only ones that are abused in a purposeful fashion. Although insects may not be properly classified as pets, there are some with which a child likes to play. One is about an inch long with yellow feelers, wings, and legs, besides having yellow at the sides of its head and a yellow band near its tail. It is found in July. This bug has two projections under its tail, a short yellow one above and a long black one below.12 A boy catching such a bug may put a bird’s breast feather—perhaps from a duck—between the bug’s tail projections, and then let it go. The insect, which is not hurt, can still fly around making an unusual spectacle because of the disproportionate size of the feather which it carries. As a variation on this procedure, the feather is sometimes cut off and slipped onto the upper tail projection of the insect, but the effect remains about the same. It is one of a child’s particular joys to chase butterflies when they arrive in the summer, catching these insects and then letting them go in order to run after them again. The big fancy ones attract most attention, but a child will enjoy playing with a small plain one as well. 11 The informant’s actual statement was, “Whenever it sees anything from a mouse to a giyeg, i.e. a dangerous spirit.” 12 Professor C. L. Remington, struck by the accuracy of the informant’s description, identi¬ fied this insect almost immediately as an Urocerus, probably U. albicornis (Fab.), often called a wood-wasp.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

261

Among all the things which children find in nature to enjoy, mention should also be made of pond lilies which are common in the lakes. Children play with them in the fall, likening these blossoms to little pots. Aberrations. Although the Ingalik have numerous stories and myths involving bestiality, there is no manifest evidence of the truth of any of them. One of the commonest tales of this kind involves women having sexual intercourse with bears. Some of the people clearly believe such accounts and it must be remembered that American Indians, like Asiatics, do not share in the strong anthropocentrism common to peoples of the West. To the Ingalik, part of the evidence for bestiality comes from monstrous births which occur periodically. Some gossip such as that which follows provides an example. It is reported that during the 1920’s an Eskimo woman from Paimute, married and living with her Ingalik husband at Holy Cross, gave birth to some kind of an animal. The woman almost died in the process, but survived for several years afterward. The offspring was described as “a dangerous looking thing with hair on it,” a description which can hardly be taken as evidence of any sexual irregularity. When such unfortunate things occur, not much is said because the Ingalik are definitely frightened to talk about such matters. Although it would be unreasonable to conclude that overt homosexuality is un¬ known among the Ingalik, no explicit evidence was discovered and it may be assumed that the society is not one in which such behavior is commonly acknowl¬ edged. On the other hand, the role of both male and female impersonators is clearly accepted. The role of these individuals known in the literature of northwest America as berdaches or transvestites is not easily defined. Unfortunately, in a sense, transvestites are not so common among the Ingalik as to make the gathering of information an easy matter. The facts that can be set forth are as follows: Ingalik society includes both male and female transvestites, the former being called “woman pretenders” and the latter “man pretenders.” Each dresses and, in general, assumes the social role of an individual of the op¬ posite sex, but there is no indication that transvestites are normally sexual inverts. On the contrary, it must be presumed on the available evidence that these indi¬ viduals are rather asexual and sometimes narcissistic, rather than being homo¬ sexual, heterosexual, or bisexual. On the other hand, quite possibly, these latter variations of behavior may sometimes occur. Although male transvestites intermingle freely with women, and by them are accepted, they are said not to marry. No “woman pretender” has been characterized by abnormal physical characteristics in the descriptions of contemporaries. How¬ ever, the general softness of face associated with females does occur, although it must be remembered that most Indians have few whiskers. Indeed, the absence of face hair in men is accounted for in part by a boy’s rubbing a muskrat’s tail over his face. A muskrat’s tail has no hair on it so the cause-effect relationship becomes obvious. Apart from appearance, the “woman pretender” may have much of the

262

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

sweetness and reticence attributed to some women and certainly equal skills in such womanly work as sewing and basketry.13 A transvestite assumes his role in childhood and his contemporaries generally do not recognize the individual’s true sex. One of the interesting facets of the per¬ sonality of male transvestites is that they are assumed to be extremely jealous of each other. There are stories current in which a young “woman pretender” is persuaded by his grandfather to avoid going to a kashim in which another like himself is present. The argument of this tale depends on the fact that the second transvestite has several more powerful “songs” than the first and that they will enter into competition to kill each other with them if they meet. Female transvestites enter their unusual role by complaining to their mothers in childhood that they do not like being dressed as a girl. If the child insists, it is expected that the mother wi 11 give in—as so often to children among the Ingalik—and fashion boy’s clothing for her daughter. Also it follows that when the mother tries to teach the girl a woman’s handicrafts, the child cannot or will not learn. On the other hand, she enjoys her association with her father and learns a man’s work with relative ease. Such a “man pretender” goes to the kashim and talks with the boys. She also takes her bath in the kashim like a man and her contemporaries do not recognize that she is a female. This is possible in part because young men sometimes do not perceive what is obvious, in part because female transvestites may have little development of their breasts, and also because it is easy to avoid telltale exposure of the genitals. The following story is the account of such ready deception. One day a male cousin of a female transvestite asked “him” why “he” did not get married. Later the question was asked again in a joking manner. “When you get old, what will you do? I want another place to go and get a meal.” The cousin says nothing. Later the questioner continues with his queries. “What did you think about my suggestion? Did you really consider it?” Finally the transvestite says, “Girls have nothing to do with me.” “Why?” “I am not a good fellow.” At this the cousin says that he will try to find a good-looking girl and arrange that they meet, but the transvestite says that “he” does not want her. Nonetheless, the helpful cousin goes away and tells his wife to ask a certain girl for his relative. The young wife is equally naive and agrees. During the day she meets the selected girl and tells her what a fine boy and hard worker her husband’s cousin has proved to be. “Did he tell you to ask me?” inquires the young woman. “No, I just want you to marry him and live in the house together with us,” replies the wife, adding that she will pass on the word to her husband’s cousin to have an intermediary ask the girl’s mother for approval of the marriage. The girl, of course, could not do anything without this formality. 13 A “woman pretender” known to the ethnographer has been pictured in Plate 2 of the volume Ingalik Material Culture.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

263

The young wife relayed the discussion to her husband and suggested that he proceed with the arrangements. Encountering his cousin, he took him to one side and they sat down to talk. When he told him what had happened the “man pre¬ tender” became both embarrassed and angry. “What’s the matter with you. I did not ask for the girl,” and with that he left. Early the next day the young man looked for his offended cousin but could not find him, so he went to the house of the latter’s mother. She said that her child had refused to stay in her house any longer. Then she explained. “You don’t really know that boy. He is a girl. Otherwise he would have married long ago. Actually he is much older than you and you have shamed him. He told me all about it last night.” The young man went home and told these extraordinary facts to his wife who was equally surprised. The next morning he went to hunt for his cousin. He traveled all day long in his canoe, going up first one slough and then another until at last he found him building a bark house. The “man pretender” told him to go away and not to come ashore. The cousin however explained the whole situation whereupon the runaway relented. He said that he was very much ashamed and that if his cousin had not first explained his ignorance before coming ashore, he would have killed him.

PART THREE: ANALYSIS AND COMMENTARY

T

INTRODUCTION

HE method of arranging the data in this monograph allows the larger pattern of the social organization to present itself with the minimum of prejudice on the part of the ethnographer. With only a general knowledge of the facts in mind, a perusal of the table of contents alone enables one to comprehend the structure of the society in a manner not usually permitted. It is immediately seen to what an ex¬ traordinary degree the kashim centralizes the social life of the village. The young men sleep there, all men work there, the ceremonies are presented there, and in the farewell of death, the kashim is the interim resting place, the funeral home of the body and spirit about to depart from the village. Furthermore, the kashim is the place of councils and shamanistic displays; it is the center for trade, and for sports and amusements. For the Ingalik, the kashim is a dormitory, assembly room, factory, meetinghouse, spa, men’s club, theater, dance hall, gymnasium, church, hotel, cafe, exchange, and temporary charnel house. Indeed, its role as a community center is so inclusive that it is easier to indicate which public activities do not con¬ verge on the kashim than those which do. Outside the kashim, the most inclusive get-together of village people takes place at the ball games on the playing ground in the late summer, but it should be re¬ membered that this is a time when the people are more dispersed than in the winter, and also that small children are excluded from the area for their own safety. Other occasional sporting events that are carried on in the open should not be overlooked, but they, like spring camps, do not appeal to everyone. Large scale hunting and fishing undertakings suffer in comparison as village activities, since the group be¬ havior is almost exclusively restricted to men. This limitation applies even more to raiding or warfare in which only the intensity of emotional interactions can com¬ pensate for the great intervals in occurrence. Clearly, there is only one conclusion —the collective social life of the village is that of the kashim. Before going on with our commentary, it may be worth considering such argu¬ ments as might be raised to contradict this deduction. The most obvious one is that women do not participate equally with men. It is true that they do not pass through a period of their lives when they sleep in the kashim as do unmarried young men; neither do they work and bathe there as do the males of the community. In other aspects of kashim life, however, their participation languishes only in the matter of degree. Each day they share in the kashim meals socially if not substantially, they attend the ceremonies and join in the dancing, they compete against boys in trials of strength, and they have a representative audition in the affairs of a council which makes their power behind the bench most effective. They watch the shamans’ performances and, in death, their bodies may be bound and set up in the kashim for everyone’s respect. Undeniably, the life of a woman does not focus on the kashim with the same steadfastness as a man’s, but nevertheless the kashim has no real 264

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

265

competition as a community center even with respect to females, for in Ingalik society, as in many another, women do not gather so frequently in so public and so large a group as do men. Anyone who is prejudiced to believe that a woman’s place is in the home should be pleased with the Ingalik, for among these Indians, the home is where she will be found most of the time. But he should not conclude that the house is a man’s castle; on the contrary, it is fundamentally a woman’s domain, just as the kashim is a man’s. The notable contrast lies in the fact that whereas usually a single kashim is the focal center for the men of the village as a whole, the several houses function as breeding places for small clusters of females, or in more polite if less vivid language, the development of families. Actually, in describing the life of the family there is not much to say about a man except that after he is married he sleeps with his wife, and before he is married, he comes home to breakfast. The man does assume the major share of work in constructing the dwelling (although family life can hardly be identified with the house until it is finished), but as the process of accumulating children continues, his non-sexual functions inside of the home become of lessened significance. Except at night, one has the feeling that a man in an Ingalik winter house is actually an accessory and somewhat in the way, although many women would probably not admit to such thinking. The winter house is small (it would be cold were it not), and it is usually crowded with children. Disregarding the dominance of mothers, if sheer numbers were counted it is the offspring’s domain. The greatest event in the house is the birth of a new occupant, for which it is the home for a dozen or more years, until the growing child is dispatched to the kashim, or becomes nubile and is closeted as a dangerous female undergoing a period of crisis, set apart as a symbol and warning that a man soon will be needed to excavate another house, to play his part in procreating one more hope-filled child-swarm. The roles of the kashim and family dwelling do not set forth the total relationships of Ingalik groups, however. There are the busy summer months when underground dwellings are temporarily abandoned and families gather in the fish camps for periods of intensive, cooperative labor, and at other times of the year, there are the family groups that go off to hunt, and those that move to the lakes to fish in the early spring. Nevertheless, activities apart from the winter village are felt to be subsidiary or special, no matter how important they prove to be. Even the summer has its shortness shortened by the continuous daylight and work. It is the remainder of the year when the insect plague has gone that the Indians regard as their pleasant normal existence, the time for real living. When we come to consider interpersonal relations, or those between two people, we discover that these, unlike the meeting of larger groups, are not confined to any particular place or building. Also, they all might be squeezed under the rubrics of aggression, cooperation, or dependency relations. Sexual intercourse, one of the commonest expressions of interpersonal contacts, may take place in the woods, in the recesses of the house porch, under cover of darkness and blankets on the family

266

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

bench, or even in the kashim on rare occasions, but whether to classify such inter¬ course as cooperation, as aggression, or as a dependency relationship would be governed by the particular instance. Less critical partnerships likewise occur in various settings when people pair off for a particular reason such as a hunting trip or a love affair, the nature of both of which tends toward the exclusion of unneces¬ sary numbers. Also, there are the intimacies of mother and child, of doctor and patient, of the strong with the weak. Whatever they are, in their consciousness of egos, they are a whole level of organization above the relatively irrational interplay of the crowd. Finally we have the individual. It is by such that most of the male work of the Ingalik society is done, not in isolation necessarily, but by men essentially alone in the doing. No man, of course, is independent of his society, but these northern Indians for the most part cooperate nonsynchronically and, in this sense, may be contrasted with the workers in more integrative social organizations, as well as set off entirely from the great hydraulic and industrial civilizations where individual success may depend not only on cooperation, but on the unseen and uncontrollable dictates of distant decision-makers. The Ingalik cooperate much as do individuals in the old Vermont tradition, but if a little less intermittently, perhaps a little less fully. With this general picture in mind we can now turn to such commentary and analysis as seems desirable to touch up particular parts of the description. THE KASHIM AND GROUP HUNTING AND FISHING There is little that the writer can add to the first two sections presented under the heading of Village Activities. Communal kashim life had disappeared before his first arrival on the Yukon and this was an incomparable loss for the ethnographer. The behavior in the kashim has for the most part been demonstrated as true, how¬ ever, by the interlocking coherency of many individual descriptions of activities for which the kashim was unconsciously the setting. Such accounts, recorded at dif¬ ferent times, obviously would not fit together if there were gross errors in the overall pattern. Some emphasis should perhaps be given to the importance of the evening sweat bath as a restorative in a cold country. When one wakens and is well fed in the morning, the rest and food usually make one feel fine despite the intense cold. As one labors through the short period of daylight and on into the darkening afternoon, however, exhaustion quickly takes hold, so enervating is the continuing cold. The evening ritual of a fire thus becomes a special boon, and it is easy to understand why the Ingalik specifically call it the “loved-fire.” The intense heat has more than an immediate effect, and it is obvious to suggest a parallel in the steaming hot baths taken regularly by the Japanese so as to keep warm in the winter. Someone with a sharp eye for detail may note that it has been reported that occasionally more than one kashim can exist in a village. Were this not so unusual it would complicate the picture that has been presented. Actually, the explanation

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

267

may lie in the peculiar sectional mobility and intermittent hopping around of some villages. By way of making this clear, let me say that for a long time I was puzzled that my best of informants with a fabulous memory for details always left me con¬ fused when he could not give the exact arrangement of buildings according to their occupants in his native village for some particular year when the data were needed. I knew that the answer to the problem would ultimately be found in my own lack of comprehension, and this belief was correct. Ingalik winter residences are frequently rebuilt. Either a person dies or the house pit becomes sour from too much dampness, and the building is torn apart and removed to any vacant space into which it will fit. It is correct to say, therefore, that such a house may last fifteen years, but seldom in the same place. With so much change, one’s neighbors seem transient and some¬ times difficult to recall. This hopping about of houses frequently expands into the movement of a major segment of the village. The shaman, for example, may decide to move to the op¬ posite bank of the river. In a few years practically all of the villagers may have followed him. Then discovering that he has chosen a spot less to his liking than some other, he moves a few hundred yards farther down the bank, and again the people gradually follow him. This actually happened at Anvik. In such a case it can be quickly understood how two kashims might appear to, or actually, function in what is essentially a single village if genesis and juxtaposition are the criteria chosen to define it. Group hunting with primitive weapons had ended before the time of my oldest informants—unless one wishes to be nicely precise and include the taking of lam¬ preys under the ice. Group fishing, on the other hand, has still not entirely dis¬ appeared, as in the case of people who make spring camps at the lakes. It would seem that the breakdown of group activities of these kinds was clearly the con¬ sequence of modern technical equipment. With a rifle, men did not need to rely on the laborious method of the pole-built surround; and the fish wheel, introduced at the beginning of the twentieth century, squeaked out a curfew on the weir. Guns also tolled the knell on beaver netting, and game laws, protecting the houses of that animal, had a realistic effect in curtailing the ancient group method of annihilating these tail-flappers. SPORTS AND GAMES There is an advantage for analysis in seeing a seasonal list of the Ingalik sports and games as presented below: Spring recreation {inside the kashim) Bone breaking Back slapping race Mitten jumping High jump Broad jump Bear jump

Chinning Finger pulling (A) Finger pulling (B) Arm pulling Neck pulling Stick raising (A)

268

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53 Stick raising (B) Ear game Biting game Knee walking Rope walking Hand walking Hole and peg

Rabbit jump Hazard jump (A) Hazard jump (B) Stick rolling Tug of war (A) Tug of war (B) Tug of war (C)

Summer recreation Canoe race Bow and arrow shooting Pole pulling

[Broad jump]1 Swinging Toss ball

Winter recreation Racquet ball Snow-snake Hoop and pole Shinny

Rope skipping Quoit [Bone breaking] [Pole pulling]

Listing the various sports and games according to the seasons results in the interesting fact that there are over twenty tests of strength in which the Ingalik engage primarily during the early spring inside the kashim whereas, at that period, there is only one game of skill. The latter is the hole and peg game which is played in April with the conscious intent of making the fish come into the traps, fishing, of course, being very much on everyone’s mind at that time. Also, it is interesting to note that of the twenty-odd tests of strength, the largest number involve pulling, the next jumping, and the third balancing. Why this concentration of tests of strength should occur at one period no Indian ever mentioned to me, and the people may have been no more conscious of the grouping than I was while in the field. The deduction is inescapable, however, that the men, cooped up in the kashim much of the winter, needed the exercise which these games afforded. Thus, when at first so much exercise of the finger muscles seems strange, one need only ask the practical meaning to discover an answer: for pulling a bowstring. Precision in jumping and balancing are a little less obvious needs, but one who travels through either the northern forest or tundra knows that one’s movements are not simple, as in walking down a village path. Balancing, of course, is also vital for the manage¬ ment of a birch bark canoe, but I would suspect that such association as there may be between the latter activity and the games was an unconscious transfer of skills. Also, a word should be said specifically about the toss ball game. It stands apart from the others because of the exceptional situation which brings about tactile relations between a whole group of younger men and women. This seems under¬ standable partly as a release from the period of most arduous labor just preceding it, when men and women work long hours on the same general activity of salmon 1 Brackets indicate the recreation is more characteristic of another season.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

269

fishing, yet despite the juxtaposition of bodies at the latter time—almost con¬ tinuous between woman and woman, and regularly recurrent betwen man and woman there is little or no actual physical contact. The release from intense labor, the stimulation of the interaction, and the gratification of the reward in the food stored up, all are logical preludes to a game which provides for a certain abandon in its irregular extroverted movements and inevitable body touching. It may be well to note at this point that, besides the toss ball game, swinging and rope skipping are the only recreations on our list in which females regularly indulge. 1 he typical winter games, contrary to those of other seasons, are undertakings in which skill takes priority over strength, although, with one exception, they are played outside instead of inside the kashim and of necessity afford enough exercise to keep the contestants warm. Most of these games seem more sophisticated than the comparable activities of the other seasons. Perhaps this is because the winter is the time of more serious attention to less workaday things. SHAMANISTIC PRACTICES This is the group of behavior patterns about which the writer feels most un¬ certain. Among the Northern Athapaskans, shamanism tends to be too informalized to make generalizations about it easily, as one may do for some peoples of Asia. An intimate association with a few distinguished shamans would have been ideal for research. Individuals to whom someone happens to give that reputation—in a sense, everyone does a little shamanizing—will not serve as an adequate source of knowledge. To appreciate real shamanism, a certain standard of quality is essential as in all other arts. There were no first-class shamans still alive in the Anvik area by 1934, and there had been no great ones since the previous century. American priests worked to destroy shamanism for fifty years before any ethnographer ar¬ rived, and Russian priests perhaps began decades before that. Still, I think there may be a few comments to be added about shamans, but these comments comprise data of a different order of validity than those which have been put down in the descriptive part of this volume. They may not be less true, but they are not the same, for they represent the ethnographer’s opinions rather than the informants’ ideas. Chief among these opinions is the notion that Ingalik shamanism was a highly individualistic growth, the fruit of a dominant personality, which being cultivated to obvious advantage, was spread by fear and reinforced by the real power of manipulated adherents. For example, an individual discovers that by the impact of what might be designated in a more sophisticated society as hysteria, paranoia, or some other frightening neurosis, he can convince a chosen coterie of his possession of superior powers. In this relationship, he demands certain services, more particularly certain attitudes, and for these he undoubtedly offers intangible, if not material, rewards. With his clique once established, he begins to take advan¬ tage of the swing of fortune as it affects particular families. Where death and dis¬ integration are almost inevitable, he reaps the public reward of prophesy, and prophesy is never completely disassociated from causation. From the family itself,

270

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

he demands payment for his help, and if misfortune ensues, he insinuates that his support was not adequately gained. The dead hardly ever protest. When a situation is by no means hopeless, he makes it appear worse than it is, and then claims any turn for the better as the result of his touch. Unless he is stopped in this process by competition or by a strong man of independent mind, his coterie can develop into the semblance of a cult. Once this stage has been reached, he will collect gifts from the weak and the fearful wherever he goes, and his followers multiply. It is cheaper to pay than to contend with an aggregate of people whose surrounding eyes are fired with the expectant tragedy about to befall one. If a man is not trouble prone, such company is apt to make him become so. A few fish for a shaman can be viewed by an Ingahk as insurance against accidents. On the other hand, there were always the few independent thinkers, the iconoclasts, but as long as they offered no mani¬ fest opposition, I think the shamans were happy to let them alone. They remained the bulwark against gross superstition, and by lack of antagonism together with the power of survival, they became regarded almost as shamans themselves—the anomalous good shamans who actually preyed upon no one. But as any experienced Ingalik can assert, real shamans always are bad. The public demonstrations that shamans present as proof of their supernatural power, I find it reasonable to think of in two different categories. The first includes those performances that depend for success primarily on the mental condition that can be induced in the minds of the audience. These results are the mark of the great shaman. Then, as a second category, there are the myriad of tricks for which some individuals seem to have exceptional talent. These are impressive but not as inspiringly fearful. By whatever means a real shaman may have achieved success, the chances are that he consciously knows what he is doing. Once established in the role, however, a shaman most probably begins to believe that more of his power is attributable to supernatural support and less to his own connivance. This reduces personal responsi¬ bility for evil and supplies a satisfying identification with superior beings. Thus the shaman discovers the secret of all politics and religion; to speak in the name of a greater power in order to advance one’s personal ends. In the higher civilizations, such ends may in rare cases be universally admirable, but in Athapaskan society they are not. COUNCILS, BLOOD REVENGE, WARFARE, AND TRADE The descriptive material on the council suffers from the inherent difficulties in recording such a tenuous organization as well as from the early usurpation of authority by a missionary or, more forcefully if less frequently, by a United States Marshal. Furthermore, under the influence of the whites, attempts were made early to modernize the councils, but with variable and inconstant success. An inevitable result has been the great difficulty in picking up and putting together even a few of the pieces, for one cannot be certain of the original form. After all, councils may have consisted so largely of words and ideas that little actual behavior was involved. Although data on blood revenge and warfare differ in being concrete, it is curious

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

271

that in the mass of accumulated notes on the modern community during the past seventy-five years no specific description of blood revenge—to say nothing of war¬ fare occurs. Obviously the threat of powerful sanctions by the superior civilization was sufficient to put an end to group organized, premeditated killing—a luxury unfortunately not afforded to the donor. In the case of aboriginal trade, the fact that there has been some kind of a commercial establishment at Anvik for about a hundred years overshadows any subtle peculiarities which may have distinguished pre-contact Ingalik exchange. So much for these areas of uncertainty. THE LESSER CEREMONIES AND “PUTTING DOWN” FOR PRESTIGE OR PRIVILEGE The assumption of commonality in the items of behavior in the section under this heading is based on no more than their secondary and sometimes subsidiary role with relation to the so-called great ceremonies. Actually there are two distinct groups of activities included, the lesser ceremonies which have the purpose of pleasing important spirits, and the “putting down” rites which reinforce the ego and gain prestige for both sponsor and child. It may be noted that the lesser ceremonials deal with a specific object, e.g. a salmon, a wolf, a moon; whereas the great ones are more generalized and indirect in their approach, much as world religions may have lost sight of their fundamental purpose for the sake of concomitant social values. On the whole, the lesser ceremonies should be apparent and understandable even to a person who, like myself, has never seen one. An analysis of the eight circumstances in which the “putting down” of food, and sometimes gifts, occurs shows that two are most common. These involve the occa¬ sion on which a young man first kills big game and that in which a young married woman brings “ice cream” to the kashim. Practically everyone in the community plays such a leading role at one time or another. A secondary part is taken by one other person, usually the mother of the boy, and always the husband of the woman. Also, unlike similar occasions, these two rites are independent of the great cere¬ monies, although they also always take place in the kashim—one whenever the first game happens to be killed, and the other as a kind of celebration of spring. Further, the food is “put down” without additional presents. Probably the next most common occasions involve “putting down” for dancing, or for the first use or manufacture of some symbolically important tool or prepara¬ tion. This is almost always done by parents for each of their children, although some rich man may help out the poor. Here, as with the previous pair of rites, food is the basic offering. Other gifts may be added. The children honored are usually young, and the opportunity taken to present them is generally at a mask dance. Much more selective is the matter of “putting down” for a second name or labrets. Such occasions usually honor only boys of rich parents and require a distribution of gifts as well as food at a partner’s potlatch. The rite is more complicated than the others in that individuals besides the parents and children are needed in order to carry out the ceremonies (announce the name, puncture the labret holes). This restriction to the rich reaches its limit in “putting down” for a girl’s puberty,

272

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

and especially when this is done for her marriage, both occasions usually associated with a partner’s potlatch. The distribution of food and gifts in these circumstances seems clearly to result from the desire of a rich parent to show off, to gain prestige, to make a magnanimous gesture. It is certainly not part of the behavior pattern of the commoners who make up the bulk of the people. THE GREAT CEREMONIES An analytical comparison of the great ceremonies shows the similarities and differences in the performances to advantage and we will consider the periods when they are given, the time that they require, their frequency, their function, and various other aspects which are shared in common by the majority. It is clear that a small nucleus of men are always responsible for initiating a par¬ ticular presentation, but the periods at which this may be done are in most cases predetermined. It is well to recall in the first place that ceremonies are excluded from the summer season because of the time-consuming requirements of salmon fishing and the concomitant dispersal of the people. Ceremonies are essentially wintertime affairs and we find four of the seven given at that period. The potlatch for the dead is stated to occur in midwinter and the hot dance is an adjunct. The animal’s ceremony should take place either just before or just afterward, while a bladder ceremony, if it is given at all, appears in the winter. The other three ceremonies are exceptional. The doll ceremony with its prognostications takes place in the autumn, perhaps because it is the beginning of a long period of uncertainties, whereas in the summer, if the season is a good one or bad, at least the circumstances are clear and people have little time to ponder the future. The mask dance, on the other hand, takes place in the spring, and possibly it is more closely identified with germination and gestation than the others. In any event, its timing creates a bal¬ anced pattern during the leisureful non-summer months. Lastly, the partner’s pot¬ latch is distinguished from the other six in that there is no set season for a perform¬ ance. It is almost as if it were something extra added to the round of festivities, extra but not simple. In the elaborateness and length of presentation, the animal’s ceremony stands sharply apart from all the others, extending from fourteen to twenty-six nights (but usually seventeen), whereas none of the others requires more than four. The partner’s potlatch extends two or three nights and the mask dance only one, but since the preparations and practice are not included, both are more time-consuming than the potlatch for the dead or doll’s ceremony which normally lasts four. The bladder ceremony and hot dance demand only one or two nights and in this respect form a class by themselves, one being uncommon anyway, and the other being a graft on the potlatch for the dead. The problem of recurrence is complicated by the lack of statistical data covering a period previous to European influence. The best guess is that one or more partner’s potlatches occurred each year in a village, that the potlatch for the dead took place from once a year to once in three years, and the others possibly even less often. It

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

273

should be remembered, however, that an individual’s ceremonial activities were not restricted to his own village. Significant to the question of participation is the fact that the ceremonies break into two types according to whether they are in-group activities or whether they primarily involve the cooperation—and eventual reciprocity—of another village. This dichotomy appears below. Intervillage

Single village

Partner’s potlatch Mask dance Potlatch for the dead Hot dance

Animal’s ceremony Doll ceremony Bladder ceremony

Of course, visitors are welcome in either case, but the in-group feeling, the identi¬ fication with things supernatural, is probably stronger in the case of the village ceremonies, while those involving another settlement are tied more to human beings and their material interests. Considering function directly, we see that all the ceremonies given internally are religiously concerned with the animate world of the food supply, to make prognoses about such creatures, to increase them, and to call upon them to come to the Ingalik country so that their bodies can be eaten. These elements are likewise strong in the mask dance and the hot dance, but in the latter cases, the spiritual element is equaled or surpassed by the obvious function of amusement. The remaining two potlatches do not function with respect to the food supply, and only the partner’s potlatch is actually considered a social amusement. The latter definitely has an economic aspect made clear by the particular emphasis on the exchange of gifts which, however, is not one-sided on a specific occasion, as it might well be. The real material loss comes in the cost of feeding so many people, and the gain is the conse¬ quent prestige. In these latter respects, the partner’s potlatch is similar to the pot¬ latch for the dead. Also, it may be recalled that in the former ceremony, gifts may be “held up” for the deceased, as well as “put down” for the living. Finally, the potlatch for the dead must be considered as unique in its primary function which is to honor the dead. In its secondary function, it does serve as a means of gaining prestige, but it cannot be classed as an amusement. It is interesting at this point to take cognizance of the order of preference which the Ingalik give to their ceremonies on the basis of pleasure derived. Only four are so rated since there is said to be no fun in the other three: Animal’s ceremony Hot dance Mask dance Partner’s potlatch It is not difficult to rationalize this order of choice if one thinks of such constitu¬ ent elements as songs, dances, ornamental paraphernalia, and gifts. The animal’s

274

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

ceremony and the mask dance provide them all, and the former being longer and more elaborate would naturally come first. The interpolation of the hot dance which lacks masks and gifts can be accounted for only on the basis of a sexual element sufficient to entice active participants and to amuse those who prefer: to be onlookers. Finally, there is the partner’s potlatch which falls into fourth place, no doubt because of its lack of colorful staging and its failure to develop theatrical qualities that appeal to the eye. It should be mentioned, however, that, in a sense, it com¬ pensates for this weakness by the elaboration of antiphonal singing. Although it is not intended to deal with the question of origins in this monograph, the case of the ceremonies is somewhat exceptional. The hot dance, for example, is definitely stated to be of alien origin, belonging to the upriver Athapaskans. Its immediate introduction came from the people of Hologochakat who presumably introduced it to their Ingalik neighbors on the lower Innoko River in the pre-contact period. At least it was known to be practiced there in the time of a grandfather of my oldest informant. At Anvik, however, the only specific occurrences of which I have knowledge were between approximately 1910 and 1928, but in the latter place there is at least the possibility that missionary influence resulted in restriction and concealment. Also as a second case, it is my own belief that the bladder ceremony is an importation from the Eskimo, although the Ingalik do not know it as such. My opinion is based on the weak role which that ceremony plays in Ingalik culture and its well-known development among their coastal neighbors. As to the others, I have found no satisfactory evidence of borrowing, even though the spread of ceremonial¬ ism among the riverine Eskimo is well known. My Ingalik informants state, how¬ ever, that the Eskimo did not have such an elaboration of ceremonials and consider their own performances as basically Athapaskan as themselves. Whatever the truth of the matter, quick judgments are presumptions. To these comments, a final note may be added with respect to the strength or sur¬ vival value of these performances. As far as I know, neither the doll ceremony nor the bladder ceremony has been given since the nineteenth century, while the others had been discontinued at Anvik by 1928 but were still occurring sporadically at Hologochakat and the Innoko River villages in the middle of the twentieth century, although usually in a simplified form. DEATH Nothing is more commonplace than death, and I am impressed by the fortuitous character of my own experiences with it among the Northern Athapaskans. In my first year of field work, the population of the Great Bear Lake Indians of north central Canada was reduced by a tenth during one month alone. To be introduced to death in such epidemic proportions is numbing, and not an experience that is apt to be even profitable ethnographically. What is perhaps more curious in the chances of life is that I do not recall witnessing another death of an Athapaskan during five summers of field work in AJaska, or, what is more significant, was I able to attend a service for any deceased Indian, or to participate in the disposal of his

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

275

remains. It is an omission which I am sure that some of my colleagues will charge to technical ineptitude. Apart from the limitations of my own lack of observations, it is interesting to note that from August, 1900, the first date of a death that I have recorded among the Anvik-Shageluk group of Ingalik (including mixed bloods) down, to the last in December, 1956, my tabulations give the month of the decease of 251 individuals. Of this number 58, or 22.86 per cent, died in the summer months of June, July, and August. This deduction, of course, may or may not be valid as an indication of the even distribution of seasonal mortality under pre-contact conditions. By way of compensation for my personal disability mentioned above, it is pecu¬ liarly coincidental that my primary informant, Billy Williams, was one of the principal singers for the dead. For generations, when anyone died, he was usually called in and helped to excavate the grave. His most frequently repeated comment while working on biographies during our last year together was the Stoic-like, passionless statement, “I dug for him.” Of course, if I had experienced the tribula¬ tions of death among the Ingalik, it is certain that much of what I would have observed would not have been aboriginal custom. The newcomers saw to that, but although Christian burial in the ground became customary throughout the last half of the nineteenth century, the ancient ceremonial with its ritual singing usually preceded the interment. I conclude that the manner of disposal of the dead body did not have the same inherent cultural strength that characterized the attitudes and beliefs of the survivors toward the departed spirit. Following this line of thought, I would like to draw attention to two points. First, it is clear that the aboriginal Ingalik had several proper ways of disposing of the dead, not one. It would be an error—and may have been so in certain actual in¬ stances—for an ethnographer to record the death customs of Athapaskans as center¬ ing around a single type, without persevering to discover any others. Secondly, the parallels between the conception of the journey of the deceased spirit to the afterworld and the behavior at the funeral service may be sharpened by a summary comparison of the elements involved, and they are listed below: Potlatch for Dead

Funeral 1. 2. 3. 4.

Close relatives conduct it. Ideally lasts four days. Takes place in kashim. Deceased is honored.

5. Deceased dressed in fine clothes and given food. 6. Special clapper sticks made. 7. Special songs to honor deceased. 8. Stretching out of deceased’s hands in thanks. 9. Stamping four times when corpse is removed.

1. 2. 3. 4.

Close relatives conduct it. Ideally lasts four days. Takes place in kashim. Guest representing deceased is honored (his village represents the village of

the dead). 5. Guest given fine clothes and food. 6. Guest supplies symbolic clapper sticks. 7. Special songs to honor guest. 8. Guest stretches out arms in thanks. 9. Stamping four times ends potlatch.

276

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

The questions which naturally arise when one thinks of the disposal of a deceased person’s property are difficult to deal with in a reconstruction of Ingalik society because of the low emphasis placed upon ownership in the culture, which, being so, directs one toward observation rather than verbal communication with the con¬ comitant difficulties of interpreting a changing situation. Clearly, it would seem, the fur trade and the associated development of stores tend to lay stress on ownership concepts, but if so, the effect remains minimal. The Ingalik dispose of their prop¬ erty easily and in the case of the deceased, one might say eagerly. Insofar as I can judge, if a man were wealthy, a little over half of his accumulated material was given away. If he were not well-to-do, after eliminating the things deposited with the corpse and the mementos distributed, little of any consequence to others would be left. It is a curious, and perhaps universal phenomenon, that many of the prized possessions of a person become almost meaningless trash to the survivors, a circum¬ stance which points to the real value being an intangible essence with which the owner has somehow endowed the object. This is borne out among the Ingalik in the case of mementos, which, if given by a dying individual or personally selected from the objects belonging to the deceased, take on disproportionate significance. In acquiring museum specimens, again and again an offer to purchase has been refused because of such associations, even when the piece is no longer functionally useful and the payment tendered more than the cost of physical replacement. In short, intangible values are greater than tangible ones to the Ingalik, and to destroy (actually to pass on to the dead) or to give away enhances rather than lessens one’s personal status. It is true that some reciprocity is expected, but it is not certain or as meaningful materially as in some other cultural regions. FAMILY LIFE It was not my good fortune to have arrived on the Yukon Rivei in a decade when it was possible to see a family still living in an aboriginal underground house, al¬ though I have seen some of these houses in varying states of transition and decay. The descriptions given in this volume have not been imaginative, however, and I have tried to check each point in the account in order to make sure that it is fact. Under the large glass of analysis, unclear gaps occur and I am at a loss to fill them in. As I read the completed version, I have noted the statement that caches were located fifty to seventy-five feet behind the owner’s winter house. In fishing camps, the distance was said to have been doubled as a kind of assurance against looting by casual raiders. The explanation is convincing enough, but I would like to have seen the locations for myself; estimates of distance are not always reliable. Cer¬ tainly, in recent times, caches were placed closer to the houses, and this seems to have been the case in such early descriptions and photographs as have been avail¬ able for perusal. In the matter of food preparation, it may clarify the situation to list the foods that are boiled and those that are broiled. It will be quickly seen that the boiling of food is the standard method of cooking when food is prepared in the house (since

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

277

salmon is the staple), and that broiling, except for certain fish, is limited to the traveling camp. Food Boiled When at Home

Salmon (all kinds) Salmon trout (usually) Clams Lamprey (sometimes) Whitefish (all) Grayling (seldom) Jackfish (seldom) Loche (always) Sucker (if cooked) Blackfish (half the time) Beluga Mink

Caribou Moose Bear Beaver Muskrat Lynx (always brought home) Rabbit Hare Ground squirrel Mountain sheep Otter

Food Broiled When at Home

Salmon, Dog (first caught, in kashim) Salmon, King (sometimes) Salmon, Silver (first caught, in kashim) Salmon trout (sometimes) Grayling (usually) Brook trout (always) Jackfish (usually) Blackfish (half the time) Porcupine Food Broiled on the Trail

Caribou Moose Bear Beaver Muskrat Rabbit

Hare Ground squirrel Otter Mink Marten (never brought home)

To the above (presented in the order of the Ingalik trait list) it may be added that all game birds are usually broiled when on the trail and boiled when at home, except for grouse and ptarmigan which are generally also broiled in the house. Moving along with our commentary, it is worth reiterating that, whereas birth, puberty, and marriage are family affairs, sexual intercourse and death are primarily not. That the aboriginal customs pertaining to birth and to the seclusion at puberty were cruelly hard on the participants is an opinion generally accorded the status of fact, and although cases of exceptional leniency certainly occurred, the normal behavior was close to that described. The statement that it is better when the onset of menstruation takes place in the daytime rather than at night immediately sug-

278

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

gests that the facility for dealing with the matter is greater when it is not dark and the grown males are out of the house. Furthermore, night is the period when attack by evil spirits is most likely and hence any supernatural danger is multiplied. Familiarity with Ingalik behavior emphasizes the alignment between responses to menstruation, alder wood, fishing, and bears. The first two items of this complex are clearly causal and their effect appears to be particularly meaningful in relation to fish and bears. It is reasonably certain that menstrual fluid contains a chemical element that would act as a repellent to fish, and may also be offensive to animals. If this fact is not known empirically to the Ingalik, at least they believe it, since for them menstrual blood is inherently repulsive. As fish provide the primary source of food, and a bear is physically, if not spiritually, the most powerful animal in the Yukon environment, it is symbolic of evil to drive the one away and to irritate the other. Given the Indian viewpoint toward menstruation, the crisis of the menopause seems essentially negative. Also, a great many women do not survive to experience it. Such psychological problems as may have consequently appeared in those who did survive, lie behind the mist through which I could not reach. The behavior patterns related to marriage are complicated and it has been diffi¬ cult to determine when descriptions of a boy and girl entering into such a relation¬ ship are objective. At best, some idealization is inevitable, and probably the varia¬ tions in given instances are greater than they are in the customs surrounding birth and puberty. Checks for corroboration do not undermine the accounts which have been given, however, and apparently much of the hesitant, formalized approach to marriage which has been presented is consistent with the relative immaturity of the principal participants. Although no statistical data on the aboriginal period is available, in my record of 316 marriages in the twentieth century, only three were of individuals known to be biologically related, and of these three, only one mar¬ riage involved individuals as closely related as first cousins, and even then, both parties were mixed bloods. From the same data, it was possible to find six cases of the sororate in 126 remarriages. INTERPERSONAL RELATIONS The intensity of interpersonal relationships is no doubt poorly imparted in the descriptive data, for a great many specific instances are needed to reflect the strong feelings that can obtain between paired individuals under the pressures of a com¬ munity so microcosmic as are those in the North. From modern conditions, one may gain some sensitivity for the former, but nothing will take the place of a con¬ tinuing integration in the unacculturated aboriginal society, an experience that has been impossible to realize among the Ingalik. In a functioning society, the oppor¬ tunities for unobtrusive observation multiply, and even when, as so often, no chance of perceiving the interplay of two people is permitted, one can catch an informant fresh with participation. Given that advantage, however, informants cannot be expected to have the desirable objective view toward their own culture, or the

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

279

intellectual sophistication of professional training. It is no wonder that the impor¬ tance of the relationships between two people seems to have been overlooked in the classic ethnographies. One may only conclude that reconstructions provide the least satisfying circumstances for this type of research. The several accounts given in the section dealing with relations between a man and a woman purport to be historically accurate, but they are colored here and there by the conscious or unconscious ideals of the culture-carrier. Incidents such as the feeding of a baby or a caribou hunt show the probable intrusions of that kind, but such is the nature of history. INDIVIDUAL BEHAVIOR It is in this section that an ethnography of a functioning culture would be greatly enlivened by life histories and other biographical data. A considerable amount of such material on the Ingalik is at hand, and it is a temptation to present it, at least in analytical form, in this monograph. Properly it belongs with the period of accul¬ turation, and it has been deemed reasonable to reserve it for a study of the recent community. Although, as has been stated before, it is definitely not my intention at this time to deal with the problems of cultural changes, I cannot resist the impulse to make note of the fact that to the best of my memory, I have never seen a piece of aborigi¬ nal Ingalik underclothing. When I first went among the people in 1934, no one could produce any, and except for mittens and boots, only parkas were still worn. Even then the aboriginal parkas were valued more as symbols, to be used on special cere¬ monial occasions. There were few women left who could make a genuine article of first quality, and they had no wish to demonstrate the ability. Consequently, I found the purchase of such specimens beyond the reasonable scope of the funds that were at hand. Twenty years later, I traced some of the identical parkas I had seen earlier, and found their market value had crashed. Indian women were ashamed to appear in them, for cloth coats, essentially Parisian in design, had come into style. Reverting to the state of affairs in the aboriginal period, it would seem on occa¬ sions that the Ingalik were inadequately dressed. Evidence compounded over the years leaves me no hesitation in saying that the northern Indian will tolerate cold to a degree quite incredible to the average European. The latter are usually psy¬ chologically disturbed by an awareness of frigid temperatures, but if they pass across the line to a realistic acceptance of deep frost, they may be startled again and again by the small amount of covering in which the Indian survives. Do not inter¬ pret my remarks as suggesting that the Indian is not ever cold; he is cold, but he accepts his condition with a highly trained equanimity. Variation exists in the atti¬ tude toward cold, but many individuals give quiet proof of a very real pride in their power to resist this relentless enemy of comfort and security. One of my chief interests in returning to the Ingalik during the summer of 1956 was to check on the role of the individual in fishing and hunting. I was inclined to think

280

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53 JAN

FEB

MAR

APR

MAY

JUN

JUL

AUG

SEP

OCT

NOV

DEC

^ La nee ^8^*

King salmon

XT' U? iTf W nr \17_VI7 m m tP

Lance 8

Dog salmon

•••••••••• X

Silver salmon

+

X

♦

X + X

'

Rare

Red salmon

OOOOOO OO Rare

Hump salmon

OOOOOO 0 WWW

Whitefish A Whilefish B

-

© © © €& © © © ©oooooo “I © © © t )©©©©ooooo

0 OOOOOO OOOOOO

X X X X X X XX XX X

)

XXX

XXX X X X X X X X

j

Whitefish C

Lakes-spe ial nel xxxxxxxxx X X X X X

Whilefish D

o oooooo

Whitefish E

X X

)

X

OOOOOO

XXX X X X X X X X X

X-

Lon e C

61

o o

O-O-O-O”

-o-o-o-o-

6

Grayling Jackfish

X X X X X X X X X X X X XXX-—-

3-0-0

Salmon trout

o-o-o-o*

Loche

o-o-o-o-

0-0-0 °--o

Lance C 0-0-0

o-o-o-o-

Blackfish _i_

•••••• Dog solmon trap OOOOO -Loche or winter trap o-o-o-o -Blockfish trap o-o-o-o - Period of concentrated catch Lance A-Used on lakes from canoe Lance B-

Whilefish or summer trap Solmon trout-Grayling trop Jackfish trop from canoe on rivers

«««**«* Gill net ®©$©® Dip net »♦♦*»«♦ Seme net-'

Lance C- from banks of streams

Fig. 19. Chart Showing Season and Method of Catching Fish.

of the latter activity in particular as generally involving two people, although my notes did not bear out the feeling. It was not difficult to confirm my original record, however, for the subject, by and large, is an easy one about which to inquire. The Ingalik prove to be predominantly individualistic in both their fishing and hunting, by which statement I mean to imply that, in the daily act of taking their provender from river or forest, they usually function alone. An aboriginal fish trap, the most important food-procuring implement, was made by one man. Cooperative ventures do occur, but they either resolve special steps in a process, or serve as a variant pattern. My own prejudice of suspecting the Indians of working in partnership had undoubtedly arisen from earlier and intimate contact with more nomadic Athapaskans, compared to whom the Ingalik are relatively sedentary and secure. In order to make the annual pattern of food-getting more clear, I have constructed a chart showing the seasonal catch of various fish by the three primary methods: traps, nets, and lances (Fig. 19). Also, I have tried to indicate the periods at which these methods are most effective for each type of fish. Some allowance must be made for factors that could not be indicated: seasons differ and fish movements vary; some people seem to be able to make a catch any time and others prove con¬ sistently inept. In addition, although it could hardly strike the eye from the chart, it must be remembered that probably more dog salmon are caught during the summer run than all other fish collectively—probably, but I cannot be sure under aboriginal conditions.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE JAN

FEB 1

MAR

APR

Caribou

Arrow - Snare-Lance | |

Moose

Arrow

Fig.

JUL

AUG

SEP OCT NOV --U ~

DEC

when swimming -[Lance 1-j-1-

Lonce

Deodfal s-Snor e-Lonce Net-Cl ub-Arrc w

Arrow Oea jfoll

Muskrat

Arrow

Lynx

Snore

Robbit

Snore

Porcupine

Club

Ground squirrel

JUN

Best skins- Sur round

Black bear Beaver

MAY

1

281

Snare

20. Chart Showing the Season and Method of Catching Animals Signifiant as Food.

Also, I have prepared a chart showing the season and method of catching animals which are significant as food (Fig. 20). It should be self-explanatory. Needless to say, the chart applies to the period before the game laws—at least theoretically appreciated by the Indians—could have been known. Thus ends the commentary on Ingalik behavior; perhaps I have said too much, or perhaps too little. We have not reached the conclusion, however, for still another volume must be presented in order to consummate this reconstruction of an Indian culture.

APPENDIX: NOTES FROM REV. J. W. CHAPMAN’S WEATHER OBSERVATIONS AT ANVIK September 1887 3. A few mosquitoes. Red raspberries, black and red currants, blueberries, and huckleberries in their prime. Ducks and geese flying in large flocks. Leaves of white birch changing color since Aug. 25th. 5. Two five-pound salmon brought in. 7. No mosquitoes or sand flies. 8 Flocks of geese flying south. 12. Geese flying NE. 14. Currants shedding their leaves. 16. Salmon trout plentiful and excellent. 17. Sand flies troublesome. No mosquitoes. 22. Salmon trout in abundance. Salmon still caught. Mosquitoes and sand flies all disappeared. 26. First snow (Ya in.) did not cover ground. 27. Snow (p2 in.) did not cover ground. 28. Snow (1 in.) remained on ground. Salmon trout still caught. 29. Cranberries in season. 30. Heavy frost. Ice at edge of Anvik River.

.

October 1887

1. Snow (M in.). Frozen sand at 1)4 ft. 2. +34.9° +26.801 Snow (M in.). 3. +36.9° 4. +36.8° 5. +34.5° 6. +34.9° 7. +37° 8. +35.9° 9. +40° 10. +40° 11. +39.6°

12. +36.6°

+28.2° +25° +24.2° +27.7° +31.3° +28.1° +32.2° +32.5°

Ice at edge of rivers and covering shallow pools. Ice at edge of water all day. Snow (1 in.). Geese flying NE. Snow flurry.

+25.2° Ground bare. Ice at edge of river. Rain. River still falling. +22.9° Grouse and ducks offered by Indians. +21.2° +16.7° Snow (2)4 in.).

13. +34° 14. +32.4° 15. +27.7° +10.7° Ice in bays. A little snow. Coldest day so far. Ducks, grouse, and rabbits offered by Indians. 16. +38.4° +24.5° Thaw. 1 Temperatures are in Fahrenheit and when given in pairs, represent the maximum and minimum for the day.

282

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE

to

17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

+29.7° +26.1° +27.1° + 16.3° + 17.9° + 17.1° + 16.3°

Slush in river.

Light snow. Snow. River full of slush and partially frozen. Anvik River frozen. Yukon River closing up.

+ 12.7° Rabbits offered. No longer are geese and ducks offered. + 15.4° Salmon no longer offered, but various smaller fish. Yukon + 12.3° O

+

GO

28. 29. 30. 31.

+36.7° +36.8° +36.6° +33.6° +38.8° +25.2° +21.6° (Sick.) +23.8° +22.5° closed. +22.8° +23.3° +25.8° +30.8° +28°

283

+ 18.9° Light snow (3^ in.) +20.5° Light snow. +21.2° Light snow. Sledge travel on Yukon. November 1887

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

00 T—1

+30.7° +21.2° Snow (34 in.). +20.2° +30° +25.2° + 12° Snow (34 in.). +21.5° + 10.7° Light snow. Snow (34 in.). + 11° -1.1° — 20.4° Salmon trout caught. +6° + 10.5° -21.6° — 28.6° Native woman observed barefoot out-of-doors in snow. -0.6° -14.3° +2.6° -14.1° +4.5° -12.1° +4.5° -22.6° +4° — 18.1° Grouse in both brown and white plumage offered. Rabbits -3° in white fur also. — 20.9° Snow. Violent wind (NE). 15. -3° + 14° — 5.1° Snow (1)4 in.). 16. +3° Snow (134 in.). 17. + 15.2° +2.5° +9° +6.3° Snow (3 in.). [Max. perhaps should be + 14°]. 19. + 1.4°

20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

+ 15.2° +21.5° +34° +33.6° +21.1°

+5.7° + 14.5° +25.9° + 14.9° + 14.5°

Snow (4 in.). Snow (3 in.). Fog. NE gale (34). Fog.

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

284

25. +20.2° +11.9° Snow (3 in.). 26. +22° +17.4° Snow (3 in.). Salmon trout offered. Rabbits and grouse abundance. A large whitefish (5 lb) in abundance. 27. +20.4° +9° Clear. +5.9° Clear. 28. +13.8° 29. +10.2° + 13.4° Clear. —18.6° Clear. 30. -2° December 1887 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31.

-4.5° -22.9° Clear. +5.2° — 8.8° Clear. -2.1° — 8.8° Clear. —14.6° Clear. -7.3° — 11.8° Clear. +3° -7.6° Clear. +2° -7° —16.4° Clear. -7.6° — 19.6° Clear. -14.2° Clear. Gale (Y2). -5.3° +6.5° — 5.6° Snow (x/± in.). +3.2° — 3° Clear. -1° — 26.6° Clear. Min. -32° Clear. Min. —31.5 Clear (Max. temp, not exceed —10°). Fog in Yukon valley. No temperature taken. —46.5° Light fog. -48.5° (2:30 PM -30.5°) High wind. -11° — 28° Violent NE gale. +12.5° — 10.7° Storm continues (greatest so far). +12° — 1.8° Light snow. +9.5° +3° Threatening snow. Fog. +12.7° — 7.1° Snow (3 in.). +4.6° — 11.6° Flurries of snow. +5° — 10.1° Snow (y in.). -5° — 18.1° Cloudy. -5° — 36° Clear. (Therm, did not reg. max.) — 38.5° ( — 35° at 4 PM) Clear. “ “ “ “ -34.4° Clear. “ “ “ “ -25.1° +4°

“ “ “ -19.6°

-29° (at 7:30 PM) Snow (2 in.).

January 1888 1. +6° 2. +33.5°

— 7.1° Cloudy — 7.1° Snow (iy in.).

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE 3. +34.6° 4. +33.6° 5. +22.4°

6. + 10.6° 7. + 13° 8. + 19.5° 9. +20° 10. + 15.6° 11. +9° 12. +9.6° 13. +20.5° 14. +23.2° 15. +23.5° 16. +27° 17. +27.2° 18. -4° 19. -5.5°

2 20. 21. + 15.6° 22. + 14.2° -

23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30.

°

+ 10° + 10° +5.7°

1

-

°

(Therm. (Therm. (Therm. (Therm. either (Therm. 31.

285

+27.3° Cloudy. +20.7° Cloudy. Snow (% in.). -1.8° Cloudy. +2.2° Cloudy. Snow ()^ in.). + 10.5° High wind NE. Snow (5 in.). + 11.5° High wind NE. Snow (4 in.). + 14.2° Snow (1 in.). +8° Cloudy. +2.8° Cloudy. +3.1° Cloudy. Snow (^ in.). +9° Fair. + 10.5° Fair. + 13.7° Fog. + 1.9° Fog. -4.1° Clear. -10.2° Clear. -19.7° Clear. -15.1° Clear. -11.1° Clear. — 2.6° Clear. + 1.4° Clear. — 16.1° Clear. Lunar halo. — 6.7° Cloudy. Lunar halo. —27° Clear. Rabid dog killed—said to be not uncommon in winter, did not reg. max.) —42° at sunset. Clear. did not reg. max.) —39° (—30° at sunset). Solar halo at 9 AM. Clear, did not reg. max.) —45° ( — 33° at sunset). Clear, did not reg. max.) —45° ( — 33° at sunset). Solar halo (bright spot on side). Clear. did not reg. max.) —49° ( — 30° at sunset). Fair. February 1888

2. 3. 4. 5.

6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

(Therm, did not reg. max.) —33° Fair. Grouse, rabbits, and excellent fish (same as offered all winter). (Therm, did not reg. max.) —29° Fair. (Therm, did not reg. max.) —21.6° Cloudy. — 6.6° Snow in.). +0.5° —1.1° Cloudy. +5.5° — 6° Cloudy. +6° +5.5° Clear. Rabid dog killed. +15.5° + 15.2° Clear. Light snow. +23° +21.2° Cloudy. Four sleigh loads of fish caught by one man. [Error +20.6° in temperature record?]. +22° +13.7° Clear.

286 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29.

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

+16° -2° +9° +3° +7.5° +6° +6.5° +5.8° +3° -6° -1.6° -4° -3° +2.8° +13.2° +12.6° +33° +35° +34.5°

+ 11.1° — 24.6° — 6.1° — 5.6° -6.6° -10.1° -5.6° —4.8° — 6.9° — 16.1° -9.1° -25.6° — 13.1° — 9.3° + 1.4° — 6.4° +6.5° +22.3° +9.5°

Clear. Cloudy. Clear. Snow (24 in.).

Solar halo. Snow flurry. Clear. Clear. Clear. Clear. Clear. Solar halo 7:30 AM. Lunar halo 9 PM. Snow (1 in.). Cloudy. Snow. Snow (3 in.). Snow (3 in.). Cloudy. March 1888

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

+37.6° + 19.7° Cloudy. Snow (2 in.). +35° +9.5° Light snow flurry. -2.6° + 19° Fair. [Max. perhaps should be + 26°]. +24° +9.5° Fair. +32.3° -1.9° Fair. +26.5° +9° Fair. +24.6° +9° Clear. +24° +6.5° Clear. +15° + 1.1° Clear. NE gale. +11° —8.6° Clear. -6° — 10.1° Clear. -3.8° —15.6° Cloudy. +2° -29.2° Snow (1 in.). NE gale. +19° — 6° Clear. +23.2° +7.7° Fair. +25.2° + 10° Clear. +24.1° +5.5° Clear. No temperature taken. Snow (4 in +37° +16.2° Snow flurry. +33° +18.7° Cloudy. +29° +18.7° Cloudy. +31.8° +17.7° Cloudy.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31.

+44.4° +40.6° +35° +42.4° +38.6° +44.5° +38.8° +44.6° +41.9°

287

+24.5° Rain and snow together. +30.6° Fair. + 13.2° Clear. Lunar halo. + 19.1° Clear. + 13.6° Snow (2 in.). +33° Clear. +27.8° Clear. +23.2° Clear. +26.3° Cloudy. April 1888

1. +36.4° 2. +27.2° 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

+22.1° Clear. +4.5° Clear. Solar halo 3 PM. +31.3° —5.6° Clear. A fine crust on the snow, for the first time this winter in this locality, during the past two or three days. +22.6° + 1.4° Fair. +13.7° -1.3° Clear. — 9.2° Clear. +5.3° +1° — 14.9° Clear. Snow i}/± in.). — 9.1° Clear. +16.5° +26.4° —11.5° Cloudy. — 2.6° Fair. +24.8° -3.1° Clear. +23.5° —10.1° Clear. +21° -12.6° Clear. +9° +18.9° —15.1° Clear. +9.4° Clear. +30.9° +35.3° + 14.2° Clear. +30.2° Clear. +39° +39.5° + 13.7° Clear. +44.1° + 18.5° Clear. +41.8° +24.1° Clear. Indians report seeing ducks on Anvik River. +20.5° Clear. +36°

21. 22. +26.2°

23. +30.5° 24. +37.9°

+ 14.7° Clear. +5.2° Cloudy. First duck offered for sale. + 12.7° Clear.

25. +43.7°

+9.5° Clear.

26. +39.2°

+26.3° Clear.

27. +31.9° 28. +36.2° 29. +42.4°

+21.2° Clear. + 16.10° Cloudy. Snow. +30.3° Cloudy. Snow. Geese seen flying.

30. +43.2°

+31.7°

288

YALE UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY: 53

May 1888 1. +47.4° 2. 3. 4. 5.

+53° Much water standing on ice of rivers. Many geese flying. [Min-

perhaps should +47.9° +35.8° +45.3° +32.7° +46.1° +28.6° +40.7° +32.2°

be + 33°]. Fair. Cloudy. Fair. Swans seen flying. Cloudy. Channel over the ice of Anvik and Yukon rivers.

6. +48° +32.7° Cloudy. 7. +53.3° +34.5° Much ground bare in exposed places. Snow rapidly melting. Sand bars bare in both rivers. 8. +54.5° +28.5° Cloudy. Heavy frost. 9. +48.5° +32° Cloudy. Rain and snow. 10. +45.9° +27.6° Cloudy. Light snow. Ice leaving Anvik River. 11 +44.9° +30.3° Cloudy. 12. +52.2° +33.3° Cloudy. Light rain. 13. + 52.5° +34.7° Fair. 14. +54.7° +34.8° Fair. 15. +55.7° +35° Cloudy. Marked rise in Anvik River. (Min. lost) 16. +60.1 17. +58.9° +40° Cloudy. +32.2° Ice moving in Yukon River. Cloudy. 18. +63° 19. +67.9C +37.4° Clear. Mosquitoes becoming annoying. Willows and alders in blossom. 20. +66° +45.8° Fair. Anvik River at about high water. Grass sprouting. Currants and salmon berries in bloom. Birch leaves opening. 21. +66.6° +40.7° Fair. 22. +50.5° +37.5° Cloudy and rain. 23. +53.2° +35.8° Rain (.03 in.). 24. +54.4° +37.5° Cloudy. Ice has nearly stopped running in Yukon River. Indians say geese and ducks are nesting. 25. No temperature taken. Cloudy. Rain and hail. Yukon ice stopped running. Yukon full of floating trees. 26. +51.7° +36.6° Cloudy. Hail. 27. +50° +38.8° Cloudy. Duck eggs offered by Indians. 28. +50.5° +37.3° Cloudy. 29. +54.7° +36° Fair. S.S.Yukon came from near mouth of Yukon River. 30. +58.9° +41.3° Fair. 31. +57.7° +42.6° Cloudy.

.

June 1888 1. No temperature taken. 2. +69.4° +40.2° Fair. 3. +78.4° +53° Cloudy. Shower.

OSGOOD: INGALIK SOCIAL CULTURE 4. +67.9° +52.3° Fair. 5. +72.8° +46.8° Fair. 6. +77° +54.7° Fair. 7. +77.4° +53.6° Fair. 8. +73.5° +53.7° Cloudy. 9. Rain. Jan. 16, 1889—Eclipse of moon observed at 7:30 PM. Apr. 21, 1890—Flies observed. Apr. 26, 1890—-Geese observed flying north. June 9, 1890—Thunder, but no lightning. Apr. 28, 1891—First geese observed by Indians. 1889 1888 1887 First frost (killing) Sept. 20 Aug. 26 Last steamer Sept. 28 Sept. 8 First snow Sept. 26 Sept. 19 Oct. 1 Anvik frozen Oct. 22 Oct. 9 Nov. 8 Yukon frozen Oct. 28 Oct. 26 May 14 Anvik broke May 10 May 19 Yukon broke May 18

289

1890

May 14

1891

May 8 May 18

t

J

DATE DUE

GN 2 .Y3 no. 53

Osgood, Cornelius, 1905Ingalik soc al culture.

163 0

010101 000

661 2

TRENT UNIVERSITY

GN2

,Y3

no. 53

i^,,^rneUuS> 19°5Ingallk social culture.