2013 QATNUT DANCERS

I’ve been re-watching my videos of the 2013 Qatnut (trade fair) dance performances recently. For those who may not know, the trade fair was historically held at camp Sisaulik, when people from different communities gathered to trade, dance, and participate in traditional events and competitions such as the blanket toss, kayak races, food eating contests. The tradition continues today as there is dancing, fashion shows and crafts.

2013 Qatnut at Kotzebue: all-dancers circle.

Anyways,  I love to watch Inupiaq dancers perform. The beat of the drum gives me goosebumps and I love how the dances tell stories. If I weren’t too self-conscious I would learn. As a child I remember that Inupiaq dancing was discouraged, at least in my family it was. According to the missionaries, Inupiaq dancing was considered “evil,” thus forbidding us to dance. I remember when we had “Inupiaq days” at school we would learn various aspects of Inupiaq culture - the language, dancing, crafts, etc. A teacher would come and show us dance moves, during which time I would sit out and watch. I really wanted to join but not wanting to displease my aana, I watched from the back of the classroom.

Traditional dancing is making a comeback as it is now viewed as a reflection of the culture, rather than as “evil” practices. It is an expression of Inupiaq culture, a chance for community members to gather and celebrate. At Qatnut performers from different communities traveled to Kotzebue to dance. There were our Russian neighbors (Siberian Yupik), dancers from Point Hope, Kivalina, Kotzebue, Noatak, Wainwright and Barrow. Our Russian neighbors caused quite a commotion with their arrival, with people often asking “Did you see the Russians?” There were fantastic dancers and their array of dances included a "Brother and Sister" dance that made the audience chuckle, as the dancers reversed roles, the woman dancing as the brother and the man as the sister. The movements were comical and exaggerated.

I enjoyed watching the Kivalina dancers as well and thought that they were good performers. Their male dancers were tall and athletic, a reflection of how active they are and the traditional food they eat. I think that the more remote the village, the better the dancers. Barrow stood out in that their dancers were young - an adolescent boy who won the male youth contest and two tiny, perhaps 4 years and younger, boy and girl dancers. The younger dancers often looked to the older dancers for guidance and the ladies in the audience moaned sighs of affection as the little dancers performed.

The strongest performers hailed from Wainwright - the Utuqqagmiut dancers. The Utuqqagmiut dancers were actually invited to and performed at the 57th Presidential Inauguration Parade in Jan. 2013 in the nation’s capital. At Qatnut, they were exceptional performers, especially their female dancers. They wore matching dancing regalia - black atikluqs and pants with multicolored lining, mukluks and gloves. The women dancers were mesmerizing as they danced in sync, their movements controlled and deliberate. Their feet were planted firmly to the ground, their knees bent lower than most women dancers. The most talented dancers danced in near-perfect rhythm with the drumbeat. What’s more - they weren’t flashy or trying to show off. As my friend remarked, “their strength comes from within.”

Usually in any dance group you can tell which dancers are the most talented but it seemed that most of the women dancers were strong performers. In fact, I would argue that they were better dancers than the men. I enjoyed all of their dances but one of my favorite dances was the whaling dance. Three men and one woman performed, the dance starting out somewhat slow and calm, as most dances do. Then, as the drumbeat quickened and the singers sang louder, the dancers began to “chase” the whale in their boat. In this dance, the performers moved as if they were really giving chase. You could feel the energy of the crowd as people cheered while the dancers pursued the imaginary whale. The dance was so good that the dancers performed an encore.

It was especially touching to see the elders dance at the end of the performances. Wainwright's elders, for example, danced for us, each dancer flaunting his or her own style. The audience cheered loudly and applauded their performances. My heart swells with pride and respect to see our elders dance.

I'm trying to upload some of my videos but it takes forever! I will keep trying and I would like to include more photos. Stay tuned.

THE ULU: A SYMBOL OF INUPIAQ WOMANHOOD

In my opinion, there are three things that represent Inupiaq womanhood: an ulu, seal oil, and sourdough. An ulu is a woman's knife that is usually made with a handle (wooden or ivory) and a blade (saw blade typically). Back in the day women often used ulus made of stone.  I say it is a woman's knife because that is exactly what it is: a knife that is used almost exclusively by women. You probably wouldn't see a man using an ulu as he would use a regular knife and if he were using an ulu, it might seem a bit unusual and silly. Perhaps this is an indicator of the traditional gendered roles in Inupiaq culture, I don't know.

Anyway, women use their ulus to cut up ugruk, fish, muktuk, caribou, moose, vegetables, etc etc etc. These handy instruments can cut up most things and are often a superior choice to knives. Wanna cut up some quaq (frozen meat/fish)? Grab an ulu. Need to cut vegetables? Cut up an entire ugruk? Cut up some muktuk? Use your ulu.

My tiny ulu: a symbol of my early childhood and time spent in Kivalina.

Both my aana (maternal grandmother) and aaqa (paternal grandmother) have a collection of ulus, some right handed, some left handed, some big ones, some designed to fit smaller hands. At fish camp we would use ulus to clean up the ugruk meat and cut fish. A skilled woman could even use the ulu blade to scale fish (we used knives). While working my aana would bring out her box of ulus and rotate them, using one ulu until the blade became dull with use, switching it out to another ulu, and so on, until all the ulus needed sharpening. I prefer smaller ulus as they are easier to use, especially for an unskilled user.

My aaqa's ulu: a symbol of Inupiaq womanhood.

My aaqa gave me tiny ulu as a child and I've kept it all these years. To me, it is a symbol of affection and love and the time I spent in Kivalina in my early childhood. During my recent trip to Kivalina, I acquired one of my most prized possessions: my aaqa's first ulu. My aapa (paternal grandfather) told me that when she first got it the blade was huge. After years of use and sharpening the blade has become a lot smaller. The wooden handle is smooth and knicked, the blade oxidized and discolored. I love it.

My aaqa is a hardworking, loving, kind, gentle and resilient woman. These are known facts. She's also funny as heck and always finds humor in even the most difficult situations. My aana is also a strong, hardworking, generous and meticulous. And so you can see why an ulu represents the finer aspects of Inupiaq womanhood.

Ulus also represent tradition and knowledge. I aspire to be like my aana and aaqa. One of my goals, as an Inupiaq woman, is to become a skilled ulu user.

AFTER 25+ YEARS, I GO BACK HOME

Aerial view of Kivalina. A bit hard to see but you get the idea.

I just returned from a week-long trip to Kivalina, Alaska. My dad is from Kivalina and all of my paternal relatives live there. Kivalina is a tiny village located approx 80 miles north of Kotzebue. In the summer you can travel between Kivalina and Kotzebue via boat and in the winter, some travel by snowmachine. Otherwise, you can fly with local airlines such as Bering Air or Ravn. There are roughly 400 residents in this whaling community. Kivalina still lacks running water (although most people have Dish network) and very few people have cars - most have four-wheelers and/or snowmachines. A lot of the people, including my grandparents, carry on our Inupiaq traditions and continue to whale, hunt and fish. I would argue that they must to rely on our traditions, considering that jobs are scarce and store-bought food is limited in choice and very expensive. 

Whale bones of the whale my aapa caught in the 90s.

As a very young child I would often travel to Kivalina to spend time with my relatives. I have a few memories of it, most of which revolve around my grandparent’s house, playing in the sand and the beach and playing with my cousin Eric, who was more like a brother to me. Last September was my first time visiting Kivalina in approx 27 years. This year was my second visit.

Initially I felt apprehensive about going back because I didn’t know what to expect. I hadn’t seen some of my relatives since I had stopped visiting some 25+ years ago and I was nervous to see them again. I worried that I would be uncomfortable and homesick. I worried that I wouldn’t belong; that I would feel like an outsider, a stranger. I had grown up mostly in the city and felt that I would be different from everybody.

In reality, I did experience a lot of these things. I often felt like a stranger because I had forgotten what town had looked like. I had very little recollection of the people who lived there. I felt lost among my numerous family members, especially my cousins, because I couldn’t remember their names and had only met them once or twice before. The thought of reconnecting with relatives and rebuilding our relationships seemed daunting and overwhelming.

Playing a game, something like "Traffic Jam"

And yet, despite all my apprehensions and reservations, I am happy that I went back. The people are very warm and welcoming and friendly. People I barely know come up to me and hug me and say “Welcome.” The children are very curious and ask a lot of questions: “What’s your name? Where are you from? Who is your mom/sister etc etc etc?” And they remember, even a year later.

My first day back I attended church, namely the Episcopal church. My family in Kotzebue has a tradition of attending the Friends Church but my aaqa is a member of the Episcopal church. I remember going to church with her as a child and feeling nostalgic, I wanted to go again.

The wanted to show me their human pyramid

I am used to the anonymity of living in the city and so I believed, erroneously, that I wouldn’t be recognized. Church members recognized me and one other visitor and as per custom, they went up and sang a song for its visitors. One lady welcomed me and called me - guess what - “Iglaaq.” I immediately thought of my blog after she said that and in a way, it pleased me. The way she said it made me feel welcomed and acknowledged.

I have learned that Kivalina people are wonderful singers and I enjoy listening to and singing with them. They sang an old song, “When the Roll is Called Up Yonder,” accompanied by their guitarists. I thoroughly enjoyed their performance and at the end, the musicians stopped playing and the group sang in Inupiaq, their voices filling the church. It gave me goosebumps and I felt proud at that moment. Proud to have been acknowledged, proud that they would perform for us, and proud because I come from that community.

And so I see a transition in the meaning of my blog from - traveler, stranger - to guest. But not just a guest, a welcomed guest. My experiences going back home have been fresh in my mind and I cannot wait to return. It’s funny how things having a way of coming full circle; at least, that’s how I see it. I always knew that I would return back home but I didn’t know how or when. I also didn’t anticipate it being so rewarding.