Tag: 05. Transformation

Physical, emotional, or spiritual changes

The orphan

An abused orphan, ridiculed for his lack of shamanistic knowledge, sings a seemingly trivial song, “Otototoi’, otatatai’,” at a ceremonial gathering. After being beaten, he encounters a ke’le spirit in an abandoned house. Empowered by the ke’le, he returns to the ceremony. The ke’le’s voice terrifies the abusive community before it devours them in retribution

Source
The Jessup North Pacific Expedition
edited by Franz Boas
Memoir of the American Museum
of Natural History – New York
Volume VIII
1. Chukchee Mythology
by Waldemar Bogoras
Leiden & New York, 1910

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The orphan undergoes a significant change from a defenseless child to an empowered individual through his encounter with the ke’le spirit.

Divine Intervention: The ke’le spirit’s involvement represents a supernatural force influencing mortal affairs, aiding the orphan in his quest for justice.

Revenge and Justice: The narrative centers on the orphan’s retribution against those who abused him, culminating in the ke’le spirit punishing the community.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chukchee people

Once (there was) an orphan child who lived quite by himself [quite alone]. In that place there lived numerous people. The people beat him all the time, and they always treated him violently. The neighbors were all the time striking him. Some of the people arranged a thanksgiving ceremonial. He came to that house, together with the other guests. Then they said, “Oh, you take part in the ceremonial!” — “Oh, how can I take part in the ceremonial? I have no (shamanistic knowledge). I am wholly ignorant.” — “Oh, then just sing a little.” Then he began to take part in the ceremonial, and simply sang a song: “Otototoi’, otatatai’!” “Oh, what is it? Why does he use this bad little song?” They gave him a sound thrashing. He was defenceless. Then they ordered him again: “Well, then, take part in the ceremonial.” — “Otototoi’, otatatai’!” They gave him another thrashing.

► Continue reading…

There was an old jaw-bone house, quite ancient and empty [the jaw-bone house]. He went there in the dark, and there he sang into this house, “Otototoi’, otatatai’!” Then from the dark, from within, the ke’le answered, “Otototoi’, otatatai’!” He sang again, “Otototoi’!” and it answered, “Otototoi’!” from within.

Then the ke’le called him: “O child!” Till then he had no assistant spirits, not a single one. “O child!” — “Ho!” — “What do you want?” — “Oh, enough of this! The people treat me very badly and with violence, all the people.” — “Oh, well, go out!” The ke’le made him go out. He went out, and went again to those who were performing the thanksgiving ceremonial. “Oh, indeed, take part in the ceremonial! Oh, where have you come from? Take part in the ceremonial, will you?”

He again began to take part in the ceremonial, and sang as before, “Otototoi’!” — “Ah, ah, what a song he is using again!” He continued, notwithstanding, “Otototoi’, otatatai’!” Then from within, from underground, came the answer “Otototoi’!”

One old man from a neighboring house heard this. The others were noisy, and heard nothing. “Well, now, stop your noise! I heard something. A voice came to me.” — “Where should he find such a voice, this scamp?” Then again it came from within.

“Oh, my! What is it? The voice gradually approached. They heard it, all of them. “Oh, there! Stop it! Oh!” They felt afraid. Notwithstanding, it continued, “Otototoi’!” — “And now you may jostle me with your elbows, as before.” — “Otototoi’, otatatai’!” With one breath the ke’le swallowed all the people, the doers of violence. He killed them all.

The end.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

The child-monster

A woman gives birth while her husband is away but breaks ceremonial customs, leading to supernatural consequences. Her infant, influenced by ke’le spirits, devours her and her companions. The household flees, leaving the eerie child behind. A brave suitor retrieves a forgotten knife from the haunted house, survives the pursuit of the crying child, and earns the old man’s daughter as his wife.

Source
The Jessup North Pacific Expedition
edited by Franz Boas
Memoir of the American Museum
of Natural History – New York
Volume VIII
1. Chukchee Mythology
by Waldemar Bogoras
Leiden & New York, 1910

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The infant undergoes a supernatural change, becoming a monstrous entity due to the mother’s neglect of ceremonial customs.

Divine Intervention: The ke’le spirits influence the mortal realm by responding to the infant’s cries, leading to the tragic events.

Supernatural Beings: The ke’le spirits play a pivotal role in the narrative, interacting with the human characters and influencing the outcome.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chukchee people

Told by Rike’wgi, a Maritime Chukchee man, at Mariinsky Post, October, 1900.

One time some people lived in an underground house. It had three sleeping-rooms. That of the son was on the eastern side; that of the father was on the western side; the third one was in the middle, on the rear side of the house. This last was another man’s. They lived in group-marriage, and their habitations stood quite close to one another.

The woman of the sleeping-room to the east was with child. Her husband, however, had gone far away for a visit to the people, and remained with the people quite a long time. In his absence the woman bore a child. They awoke the next morning, after they had slept one night. They awoke at dawn, and the young mother had to go out and walk around the house (as is required by the ceremonial). Still, after they awoke, the woman did not go out, and did not carry the infant out of the sleeping-room. “Oh, come out! Bring out the infant!” Still the woman does not go out, (acting) as if she had not heard.

► Continue reading…

The next day it grew dark again, but the woman did not go out, “Oh, oh! you with the child! why do you not come out nor bring out the infant? Notwithstanding everything, you do not listen, nor do you want to obey.”

Once more it grew dark. They went to sleep again. All the people of that place, the whole house, went to sleep. Two men from the neighboring camps, who were serving there as suitors, — they also went to sleep. The old man had a single unmarried daughter. Both of (the suitors) were serving there with the desire of having her for a wife.

The little infant awoke and began to cry, “Ana’, ana’, ana’!” The mother and her female companions were sleeping quite soundly. So from the outside, from the side of the outer tent, [Chot-ta’gin (literally, “pillow’s edge”) is used to designate the outer tent. The pillows of the sleeping-room form its outer border. Beyond that border the outer tent begins], the ke’le answered, “Ana’, ana’, ana’!” Once more the infant cried, “Ana’, ana’, ana’!” and from the entrance-room was answered, “Ana’, ana’, ana’!” And still before the ke’le reached the entrance-room, the infant crept out from under the pillow, then rose and strode over to the sleeping-room on the rear side.

Before he could reach the rear-side sleeping-room, a boy who was there awoke, and uttered a cry. Then the infant dropped down. All the people awoke. “See there! the little infant has appeared (out of the sleeping-room)!” and from under the pillow it still continued, “Ana’, ana’, ana’!”

The people awoke, “How strange it is! Think of them! The mother and her female companions are still sleeping.” The old man, even, began to mutter, “Only think of it! The infant has appeared from under the pillow. Let them carry it back.” No answer. They do not hear.

“Oh, oh! There, now, rouse them!” One woman went out and walked over to that sleeping-room. She lifted the cover of the sleeping-room; but there was nothing at all there, only plenty of blood on the bed-skins. Indeed, the infant has eaten up the mother and her companions! “Oh, there is nothing here, only the bed-skins full of blood!” The women did not take care of the child when it cried. So the ke’le did so (in their place).

“Oh, oh! Let us go away quickly! No need of this child.” That very night they left the house before dawn. They pitched their tent some ways up the hill near by. They left the little one in the old house, quite alive.

All of a sudden the old man said, “Oh, we have left a knife, a big knife, carried on a shoulder-strap! It is hanging down (in the sleeping-room) on the western side in the corner. Alas!” One of the suitors heard this, and spoke thus: “Oh, truly, I want to show myself a true suitor! I will fetch the knife. I am able to do it. [The other one did not utter a sound.] I say to you quite openly, I came for a wife. I want to marry her straightway.”

He took off his outer clothes, then tied his trousers tightly above the ankles. The old man said, “No, indeed! Be quiet! No need of this! Even of the knife there is no need at all.” — “Nay, certainly I shall fetch it.” He ran to the jaw-bone house, heeding not the night-time or the darkness.

When he approached it, the same ominous crying was heard from it uninterruptedly: “Ana’, ana’, ana’!” He walked around the jaw-bone house and entered it. Then he walked around the crying one close to the sleeping-room. As soon as the man entered, the infant gave pursuit. In the outer tent, through the darkness, from that corner the infant pursued him, crying all the time. As soon as it scented him, it gave pursuit. The man stretched out his hand and found the big knife. He caught it and rushed out. The infant followed, still crying. He rushed out and ran away, but before that he made a tour around the house. Then the crying one entered again.

He came to the tent and rested for some time. The old man was muttering still, “What noise is there?” Then he would stop [his voice] and listen for a while. “Oh, I wish we had not sent him! We have brought a stranger to peril.”

He rested awhile and entered the tent. “There, there, take your knife!” — “Oh, oh! this is the knife I was so sorry about.” And presently he cried to the girl, “There, you woman! Hurry up and arrange the sleeping-room! He will get a chill in his back. Bring him in. Let him warm himself. His back will be cold.” — “Now, then, come in!” — So the man married and took the girl. At that time he married.

The end.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

The Ai´wan Shamans

This is the tale of a man cast adrift on Arctic ice, rescued by walrus spirits, and transformed into a walrus to evade capture by enemy tribes. Amid cycles of war, revenge, and diplomacy between coastal peoples, shamans wielded extraordinary powers, engaging in cosmic confrontations. Ultimately, even “Children’s Death” repents after mystical encounters, signaling hope for harmony and renewal.

Source
The Jessup North Pacific Expedition
edited by Franz Boas
Memoir of the American Museum
of Natural History – New York
Volume VIII
1. Chukchee Mythology
by Waldemar Bogoras
Leiden & New York, 1910

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The protagonist undergoes a physical change, becoming a walrus to escape his enemies.

Supernatural Beings: The story features interactions with walrus spirits and shamans possessing extraordinary powers.

Revenge and Justice: The narrative includes cycles of war and retribution between coastal peoples.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chukchee people

Told by Rịke´wġi, A Maritime Chukchee man, at Mariinsky Post, October, 1900.

Once in olden times, the Ai´wan and the people of St. Lawrence Island were at war. One man from this shore met with misfortune through the wind. While on the icefields he was carried away and spent two months on the icefields. One day there was a fog, and no land was to be seen. Then he heard the roaring of walrus. Still he remained with head drawn back into his coat. Then he was visited by another man, by a shaman, who found him sleeping on [the surface of] the ice and awakened him, “Oh, how wonderful, you are here?” The other one looked up and, indeed, he wept aloud. The shaman said, “Do not weep! A settlement, though of St. Lawrence people, is quite near.”

Then, suddenly, they saw it. They came ashore. A number of houses were there. The people were clad in bird-skin clothes. Those of St. Lawrence Island are also Ai´wan, their language being the same.

► Continue reading…

They took hold of the strangers, they took captive those two men. They bound the shaman, the other one they killed with a drill, having perforated his head at the crown. After that they set free the shaman, intending to keep him as a slave.

He passed there only one night.

When they were about to go to sleep, he went out and shouted toward the sea, calling the walrus spirit. Immediately from afar came the walrus. Oh, oh, the walrus came. Indeed, they were (as numerous) as sand. He walked along over their heads and went away. Then also the walrus which he had passed would come up in front. An old male walrus said, “Oh, now we are nearing the land. Your people are eager to pursue us. Oh, therefore some of us are going away. It seems that your people are bad.” Oh, he said to two walrus, two year old ones, “Let us carry away our guest.” By one of them he was made to sit on its body, and it dashed on, plunging along. The old walrus, the one that was most clever, followed it (like a leader). When one walrus got tired, he was made to sit on the other one.

When night came, they found a floe of sea-ice. The old walrus said, “Oh, all the people are tired. Let the people go to sleep.” They put the man on [the surface of] the sea-ice. The old walrus said to the man, “Oh, you may sleep on [the surface of] the sea-ice. We will sleep by your side on the water.” They inflated the crops on their throats and floated on the water like bladders. In due time the old walrus awoke. “Now let the people go along. Oh, my! you must be hungry.” — “Oh yes!” said the man. It was still dark. The old walrus dived to the bottom of the sea and saw something like the [motionless star] Polar Star. He bent over it and it proved to be a shellfish. The little man was fed with those shellfish. They were quite warm and even hot. Probably the walrus cook them secretly, therefore they may have been hot.

They set off and moved on till midnight. The old walrus said, “It seems we are nearing land.” They moved on, and before the land was near, the dawn came. “Oh, you must be hungry again.” — “Oh yes!” The walrus again plunged down. This time he brought some shellfish of oblong shape. He ate again. “Now we are going to leave you. As soon as we shall see a floe of sea-ice, though a small one, we shall leave you on it.” Then they saw one. “Well, your people will be here this [dawn] morning. We are beginning to feel afraid.” They put him on the ice. “Oh, what are you doing, you are leaving me alone.” — “It is quite certain, that they will come.”

Then he was told by the walrus, “When you are overtaken by sleep, roar like a walrus, when you are going to sleep.” Then the walrus dashed on, plunging on the way. They went away, very far to the open sea. Soon after that he began to be overtaken by sleep. So he roared like a walrus and immediately turned into one.

When the dawn of the day came, some people approached in a boat and began to move along towards him. Before they were too near, he awoke. Just when the bowman was going to throw the harpoon, he said, “Oh, what are you going to do unto me?” — “Oh, dear! Is it not wonderful? You have become a walrus, and we came near killing you. Oh, whence did you come back?” — “Truly, it is bad. We come from a settlement of men. My companion, however, is not with me. Those people are wrong-doers. They drilled through his head and killed him.” He entered the house. “Oh, what news?” — “Truly, it is pitiful. Evil-doers are those people.”

The summer came. They went to war, the men of Uñi´sak, and probably from every neighboring settlement a number of boats assembled. Then a large company of boats set off. All boats were overloaded (with warriors). Before they were too near, they saw a cluster of houses of the St. Lawrence people standing on the seashore. In the rear of the houses was a bay of St. Lawrence Island; there actually a large part of the boatsmen went ashore. They walked along in the fog from the rear, just out of sight of the islanders. Then an old man, one of the crew said, “Oh, howl like wolves!” They had not been seen by the St. Lawrence people and they were not expected by them. Now, when they uttered their howls, another old man, one from St. Lawrence Island, said, “Oh, now they are coming.” The young men said, “But we are on an island.” — “Give answer to them!” So they roared like walrus. Then the old man, one of the boat’s crew, said again, “Oh, where are you? Now they have become our quarry.”

The larger part, those who had landed in the rear (of the houses), were still unknown to the St. Lawrence people. Those from St. Lawrence island hid by the seashore. But those from the boats attacked them from the rear and a slaughter ensued. The St. Lawrence women were already strangling themselves from mere fright. The others, at the same time, were mincing a large quantity of walrus blubber with their kitchen-knives, (preparing a meal for the victors). It was a great slaughter. Many St. Lawrence women were put on board the boats and brought over here.

Some years passed. The fourth year, the St. Lawrence people went to war. They landed in the night-time and found the people sleeping. So they started to murder them, thrusting their spears from outside under the outer tent-cover, all around the sleeping-room, and stabbing the sleepers. A small orphan child hid himself somewhere near the house, while they were still killing some of the sleepers, and before they had time to go to another house. He awakened all the neighbors. They rushed out. Then those from St. Lawrence Island fled to the open sea. Two men staid behind on the ice-floe.

They lived on the ice-floe. Before the strong winds of autumn begin to blow, they came to steal some meat and so were taken captive. “Oh, we will not kill you.” They, however, struggled on, not heeding these words. The next night, they stole some warm clothes and departed again. They went away together over the sea-ice, they walked along over the newly-frozen sea. The ice was salt and yielded under every step.

Then they came to the shore. A St. Lawrence old man asked them, “Well, what kind of men are the land-people?” — “Oh, they are deucedly good.” — “Oh, Oh,” said the St. Lawrence old man, “Now let the (two) people become friendly to each other.”

Summer came again. “Oh well, now let the people set off.” Then the people of St. Lawrence Island came over here. They brought a quantity of p. 14 wooden vessels, walrus hides, everything they had. They landed and the people became friends. So they distributed their vessels among our people. An old man from this side said, “Indeed, what will you give as return presents?” The visitors were clothed in bird skins. “What kind of skins are these?” — “Reindeer-skins.” — “And what is a reindeer?” Then they showed them the reindeer-muzzles. They examined them. They said, “Oh, thus they are; like the holes in a boat cover, (namely in the walrus-hide cover, all along the border). [The skin of a reindeer-head with its eye-holes and nostrils resembles in a way the walrus-hide covering of the skin-boat, with its holes around the edge. The resemblance lies in the appearance of the holes.] Now then, eat some of the meat!” They cooked fat meat. “Oh, just like blubber!” They ate of it. “Oh, oh, quite exquisite!”

After that they went away. One man was left. He was a shaman, and he was treated just like the former one (i. e. he was bound). When winter came, they set him free. The shaman had a sledge. So he departed in the night-time. He was hauling the sledge loaded with walrus-blubber. He moved on until he felt tired. It was full moon. At that time he was overtaken by another shaman, one from the western country. That shaman also was hauling a sledge. The former heard only a noise above; that western shaman was flying along. On both sides he had long knives, which he used as wings. The other shaman who was hauling the sledge was startled and fled. When he was approached by the other one, just on his arrival, he also fled up with his sledge. Still, the other one was about to overtake him. Before he could catch up with him, (the other one) dived under ground, only the sledge remained there on the ground. Oh, the other one was unable to pursue him, the western shaman.

Then he sat down. “Oh, oh, oh; indeed; indeed! Not without reason was he talked about. Really I am much interested in seeing you.” It seems that shaman was called Ke´mneku. [This passage is not clear. The narrator did not know exactly what each shaman did.] “No shaman from any country whatsoever can vanquish me.” Then Ke´mneku spoke to the ground downward. “Nevertheless you have frightened me. I thought you were a ke´lẹ. Now come here.” He appeared. “Give me your necklace. Let me give you this knife in exchange.” — “No, I do not want to give it to you.” — “Then I shall not be believed. Please, do give it to me.” — “No, I won’t.” — “Then I will give you this big knife. Please, give me your necklace.”

Then they exchanged their (assistant) spirits. And the other one gave him the necklace. He gave him the knife. The western shaman said to the other one, “Now then, move about with the knives.” All at once the other one moved upwards in this manner. Then Ke´mneku said, after they had exchanged even their bodies, “Well, now put on the necklace; go away and fly up, just as I did. You will fly up, then sink down to the ground and plunge in.” The other one flew up. Then, slowly moving he fell down, plunged into the ground, but (when he was in as far as) the middle of his body, he stuck fast. “Oh, I have been unable to do it. Give me your wrist-bands!” — “I will not give them to you.” — “Then I will give you the tassel from my back. It is my tail, my guide in motion.”

Then he consented. The western shaman said to him, after the tassel had been given [then he said to him], “Well now, fly up just as I did.” He [himself] flew up and just went up clattering. The shaman from St. Lawrence Island said to the other one, “Well, now it is your turn.” He gave him the wrist-bands. “You will fly up, then you will fall down again and plunge into the ground.” Then the western shaman flew up. Slowly moving he fell down. Then he plunged into the ground and was submerged as in water. After a while he re-appeared. He said, “Oh, oh, indeed; Ke´mneku is talked about. How is it now? I am unable (to pursue him). Still before this in my own mind I thought I could hardly be pursued by anyone. Oh, oh, truly; Ke´mneku has been talked about. How is it now? You have vanquished me. Oh, let us go away!” Then the western shaman flew up. They were travelling at night. In one night they travelled flying through every land. Ke´mneku said. “I am going away.”

The western shaman came home. He said to his companions, “I saw a shaman from St. Lawrence Island. I was unable to follow him.” — “You lie.” — “Indeed, it is true.” — “Well then, what kind (of a shaman) was he?” He showed the necklace. “This is his necklace.” — “You lie. You have stolen it somewhere.” — “Indeed, no!” — “Well then, what kind (of a shaman) was he?” Then he flew up with easy motion, then fell back to the ground and plunged in, as though it had been water. “Oh, really, you have acquired new shamanistic powers.”

His father said to him, “Well now, let us see, whether he has really acquired new shamanistic powers. Go on, look for Children’s-Death.” He flew away night after night and travelled among all kinds of beings. Nothing. He came back to the house. By his father he was told, “What is the matter with you? You cause delay. Oh, surely he lied (to the people).” He departed again. This time he went underground. Then he came back and said, “I have been unable to do it.” By his father he was told, “Oho, what is the matter with you?” By his son, the western shaman, (the father) was told, “Oh, but I could not find him among any kind of beings.”

After that he went to the Being-of-Darkness. Then at last he saw a man; a mere mouth. This was Children’s-Death. By the Darkness he was questioned, “What do you want?” — “By my father I have been sent. I was told, ‘Go and look for Children’s-Death.'” — “Oh, oh, and for what purpose?” — “Only to show him to the people.” — “Well, surely, he is in my neighbor’s house.” He went there. There was an old man who dwelled in those regions, a mere mouth, smeared all around with dried blood. The shaman entered. “Oh, at last I see you.” The other one questioned him. (He replied,) “By my father you are bidden to come.” — “And for what purpose?” — “He said thus, ‘I want to see the old woman yonder.'” [At first Children’s-Death is called a man, now a woman.] She refused to go. “For what purpose?” — “They only want to see you. My father said, ‘Go and look for Children’s-Death.'” — “Oh, but I refuse.” — “Please come! It seems they will not believe me.”

Then she consented . She said to him, “Sit down on my body.” Then she flew up with him. A great noise spread around. It was very loud. And the whole world clattered and resounded. His father said, “Oh, what is the matter again? The world is full of noise. It appears that really he has acquired new shamanistic powers.” In coming he let her plunge underground, and after that appear in the outer tent. “What luck?” — “It seems that this time I brought Children’s-Death.” — “Now bring her here. I want to see her.” She was as large as a tree. Still she decreased in size very quickly; and he put her on the palm of his hand before he showed her to them, so small had she come to be. Before she dwindled away, he spat on her, and she grew again. Then, on becoming thus, she decreased again in size. He made her plunge underground, then he made her appear. Then he took her in the other hand, and she became as large as before.

“Oh, that is you! You are the source of sorrow among every kind of beings, to those that have children. To whomsoever a child is born, it dies suddenly, and you are the cause of it. You are Children’s-Death. Now we will bind you.” They tied her with thongs, but she broke them all. Then they tied her with a grass-blade. She was struggling the whole night, but the grass-blade proved to be tough, (it could) not be broken by her. The whole night through there was clamor and weeping. Then they said to her, “Will you do evil the same as before?” — “Oh, no! not now; not from now on. I will cease doing so.” — “Oh, but it seems to us, you will do evil again. You are bad, you are the source of trouble. You kill new-born children.” — “Oh, no! I have been made to obey by the angry ones (evil-minded conjurers). From now on, I shall not obey them. I repent having done so (heretofore). Oh, indeed! Set me free.” — “But it seems you will do evil again. Well, we will set you free.” — “From now on, I will turn to the Life-Giving-Being. Now the new-born child shall grow up, it shall die only in its old age.” Then they set her free.

She departed. Darkness asked her, “Well, how were you treated by the human beings?” — “Oh, I have been cruelly treated by them. Now I repent. Whatsoever I may be ordered to do by the angry ones, from now on I shall not obey them.” Darkness said, “That is your way. Though you say now, ‘I shall not obey the angry ones,’ still you lie. It seems, when you will be hungry again, you will comply again with their requests.” Nevertheless, when the angry ones spoke again, she paid no attention to them. Oh, but are the children dying only owing to the angry ones?

Again the (shaman’s) father sent him, “Go and look for Death, by whom people are killed.” Then again he sought among all kinds of beings, but could not find him. “What luck?” — “Oh, nothing.” — “Oho, I thought you were a shaman!” He departed again, this time underground. Again he could not find Death, and came back. “What luck?” — “Oh, I could not find him.” — “Oh, but what is the matter with you?” That was a wonderful father. Then he travelled along the crevices in the ground, and saw Iu´metun. [Iu´metun is a spirit of nightmare, living in the open country and hiding in the crevices of the ground. He is much dreaded by the Chukchee.] Iu´metun was black like coal, and had only three fingers on each hand. “Oh, that is you. You are the source of death.” Iu´metun said, “What do you want?” — “I have come to visit you.” — “Oh, now you are meddling again with my affairs. No live being has ever been able to see me, and now you have seen me. I was not, however, to be seen by anybody.” — “My father bids you come.” — “Where to and for what purpose?” — “They only want to see you.” They departed. “What luck?” — “Yes, now I have brought him.” — “Well, bring him here.”

Then he showed him to them. He was no larger than a reindeer-fly. “Ah, here you are! You are Iu´metun. You kill everybody without illness. We say, ‘How wonderful, what has killed him?’ And it is you.” — “No, I am not the one.” — “Indeed, you are the one. If you are not the one, then, indeed, I cannot become black. But if you are really Iu´metun, I shall become black from you.” — “No, truly, I am not the one. Set me free.” Indeed, he renounced his own body. “Now we will bind you.” Meanwhile he was induced to touch the man’s skin. All at once the place where he had been touched reddened, and then became black. “What now, then? Indeed, you are Iu´metun.” — “Oh, truly I am not he.” — “Yes, you are. You are evil, you are a source of trouble. Why do you meddle with the affairs of man?” — “Oh, the Ground-Beings (evil spirits) tell me to do so.”

“Also, when a man is alone in the open country, you meddle with him. Oh, we will tie you up.” — “Oh, set me free! From now on treat the clefts of the ground with offerings. And when a shaman accuses me as the cause of suffering of a man, that shaman shall be able to cure him. Every source of illness of man shall be seen by the shamans, and even by merely breathing on the skin, they shall set (the sick) right. Also when a ransom is paid to the spirits, a single bead shall be used by the shaman as a sufficient payment. But when in a serious illness a reindeer is presented as ransom, let it be a buck, well broken, because if it struggles, it is not good for the suffering body. Also by incantations suffering shall be alleviated.” Then the old man said to him, “You lie.” — “No, I do not. I was not a murderer of my own free will; the Ground-Beings told me so. Set me free. Now, even when an orphan-child wanders alone in the open country, I shall not meddle with him. Indeed, also an orphan-child shall be able to sleep safely in the open country.” — “But surely, you deceive us.” — “No, indeed! Set me free. Now I shall turn to the Merciful-Being, and I will help every orphan-child. I have been induced to do wrong by the Ground-Beings. From now on, let the Ground-Beings be placated by offerings. Let a dog be killed, let it be stabbed (with an iron knife). Also let blood be sprinkled on the ground. Sausages let also be [stabbed] offered. The Sea-Beings also must be made friendly, When the people are unable to find game, something small may be used, a small root of Polygonum viviparum. It must be thrown into the sea. Then sea-game shall appear again, and all kinds of sea-game shall be taken. Also a man who has trouble with his young children may call as a shaman a little old beggar-woman. [Among the Pacific Chukchee, čata´m-yêɛ´čhịn means “beggar-woman,” though both words signify “moon.” Some tale must underlie this term, but I have been unable to secure it.] Then the child’s clothes must be pinned in some unusual manner. Let them be quite friendly to the conjurer. And when the conjurer comes, let them give her some small presents. She may take home some sausage. A part of it has to be thrown to the Incantation-Beings. Then the child shall cease to suffer. Oh, set me free! They set him free. Unfortunately he proved a liar.

The end.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

The Unfaithful Husband

At Eekakhlee, a shaman feigned death to escape his wife and live with two young women far away. Guided by a bird, the wife found him and, in vengeance, killed the women. Transforming into a bear, she confronted her husband and devoured him and his belongings, exacting retribution for his betrayal. Thus ended the shaman’s deceitful life.

Source
Two Aleut Tales
recorded by Rev. T. I. Lavrischeff
American Anthropologist
Vol. 30, Issue 1, January-March 1928

► Themes of the story

Revenge and Justice: The wife’s actions in seeking out her husband and punishing him for his betrayal highlight themes of retribution.

Transformation: The wife’s metamorphosis into a bear signifies a physical change driven by emotional turmoil.

Love and Betrayal: The narrative is rooted in the husband’s betrayal of his marital bond and the ensuing consequences.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

Eekakhlee was the name given in the old days to present Johnstone Point on Hinchinbrook island, and the mountains between there and Nutchek were called Keeliagat.

At Eekakhlee lived an old man with his wife. They existed comfortably, but the old man did not love his spouse and hoped to desert her. As he was a shaman, or sorcerer, it was easy for him to go into a trance and appear as dead.

His wife buried him, according to custom, in a cave on a mountain, and his bows, arrows, clothing and bidarkas were laid beside him in a cavern.

For three days the disconsolate widow came to the cave to weep and wail. When she came on the fourth day she did not find the body nor the bidarkas and clothing. Stupefied, she stood there puzzled by the disappearance of the corpse. Search for traces of it were fruitless and her grief increased.

► Continue reading…

But a little bird on a tree sang to her:

“Cheer up, thee! up.
“Far beyond the Kiliagat the old man lives.
“Cheer up, cheer up.”
“Far more than before, he enjoys his life.”

At first the woman paid no attention to the bird and went to her house. On the next day she renewed her search, but the bird again sang the same song. The old woman asked it, “Where is my husband?” At this the feathered creature chirped:

“On the top of the mount,
Near the peaceful bay,
The old man lives quietly there.
He does not love thee,
He will not come back;
Two nice girls entertain him there.”

Still skeptical the old woman replied, “If you tell me the truth, take flight to the place where he lives.” Thereupon the bird set out, with the Woman following silently.

It was a long journey across the forest, through brush and over mountains, but from time to time the bird rested, permitting the old woman to catch up with it. Finally they came to the top of a hill near the bay at Nutchek. From this spot the wife saw her husband in a bidarka far out to sea. Just below her on a sandy beach she espied two attractive girls. Quietly descending, the old woman stopped behind a tree to observe them. The girls were cooking soup and when it was ready she stepped out.

“Hello, girls,” the wife exclaimed, “I see you have prepared your soup in the right way. Now I will show you best how to drink it.” With this she seized the pan and turned it over the heads of the girls.

“That is the way the old man used to eat his soup in our birthplace,” she gloated.

When both girls were dead the old woman made the feature of one appear as though she were scolding and the other seem to be laughing. Then she set their bodies on the beach and again hid herself behind a tree.

The old man came back and saw the maidens, one apparently angry and the other laughing.

“Why do you quarrel?” he asked. “Live in peace. I love you both. I have brought two otters as a present for you. Do not fight.”

Upon hearing these words the old woman turned herself into a bear, an easy thing for her to do, as she was also a shaman. Then she sprang upon her husband, exclaiming, “Here am I – your wife. You left me without your care and food. I have suffered very much. Now that I have found you here you shall die. Akcheenkoo.”

And with that she ate up the old man, together with his bidarkas.

Such was the end of the unfaithful husband of old Eekakhlee.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

The sinew rope

A young man, struggling as an unsuccessful hunter, defies his mother’s advice and discovers a sinister figure intending to feast on him. Pretending to be dead, he endures pain to maintain his ruse before escaping with a magical sinew rope. This artifact brings him exceptional hunting success, transforming him into a celebrated provider and symbolizing resilience and the rewards of courage.

Source
Eskimo and Aleut Stories from Alaska
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 22, No. 83, Jan. – Mar., 1909

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The protagonist evolves from an unsuccessful hunter to a renowned provider, symbolizing personal growth and change.

Cunning and Deception: The young man uses cleverness to feign death and escape from the sinister figure, highlighting the use of wit to overcome danger.

Sacred Objects: The sinew rope serves as a magical artifact that brings the protagonist success, emphasizing the significance of powerful objects in myths.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

Kadiak story

There were a great many successful hunters in a certain village; but one there was who had never killed anything, and he and his parents lived off the game secured by others. This humiliated the young man very much. He asked his mother why he in particular was so unfortunate, and what he ought to do to have better luck.

His mother advised him to go to the point of the cape and look about, but under no circumstances to go farther. He set out, and, when reaching the designated spot without seeing anything of note, he decided to go on until something happened. Towards evening he came to a beach, and in the sand he detected fresh human footsteps.

► Continue reading…

After pulling up his boat on the kelp, he threw himself alongside of it, giving the impression of having been thrown up by the waves. He lay there a short time when he heard footsteps followed by a voice saying, “Ha, ha, here is another one! “The young man was carefully examined by the new-comer to make sure that he was dead; then tying a sinew rope about the body, the person swung him on his shoulders and walked off. On the way they passed through alder-bushes; and when a good opportunity offered itself, the young man reached out and gave a strong pull at a bush, almost upsetting the bearer, who called out, “Who is pulling me?”

When they reached a barabara, the young man was conscious of a woman and several children gathered about him in the expectation of a feast. The baby coaxed so much for a piece of meat that the father told the mother to cut off a toe for the child. Painful as the operation was, the young man did not in the least betray his feelings. The man had started a big fire and was sharpening the knives, when his attention was drawn to the choking baby, who had attempted to swallow the toe but could not. While the whole family was assisting the baby, the young man decided it was about time to escape. So he made a dash for the outside, and ran as fast as he could to the beach for the boat. He had barely time to get in it and push out, when the other man came up and said, “Give me back my sinew rope, and I will give you something also.”

The young man, however, refused to have any dealings with him, and pulled away, taking the rope with him. On the way home he killed much game; and as long as he retained the rope he was successful, and in time became a renowned hunter.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

The Old Man of the Volcano

An Aleut man abandons his family for another woman, prompting his wife to transform into an eagle and kill him. Their son, aided by magical gifts, braves a perilous river journey and encounters supernatural foes, including a fiery volcano spirit. Through wit and resilience, he survives, ends the threats, and marries a village chief’s daughter, securing peace for his people.

Source
Eskimo and Aleut Stories from Alaska
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 22, No. 83, Jan. – Mar., 1909

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The protagonist’s mother transforms into an eagle to confront her unfaithful husband.

Quest: The son embarks on a perilous journey upriver, facing various supernatural challenges.

Supernatural Beings: Encounters with entities like the fiery volcano spirit and other mystical adversaries.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

Told as a Nushigak story by a native of Karluk

On the eastern side of a river was situated a populous village; on the western bank there was but one barabara in which lived an old couple with their son. The old people were feeble, and did not think they had long to live; they therefore asked their son to go over to the village and get married. He did as he was bidden, crossed over, married, and came back with a wife. Not long after this event the father and mother died, leaving the young couple alone. At the end of the first year of the marriage a daughter was born, who, after being bathed two or three times, began to talk. Another year passed, and a little boy came to the family. As the children grew up the father became very fond of them, particularly of the boy, who very often went down to the beach to meet him as he returned from his work.

► Continue reading…

For in order to provide for his little family, the father went out daily in his boat to hunt for sea animals and birds, and always came back well loaded.

But one day the man came home with little game and looking very sad. His wife asked the cause of his unhappiness, and he answered roughly that seals were scarce. From that day on, the poor woman could not depend with any regularity on his home-coming. Sometimes he would not put in an appearance until late in the night, and frequently he stayed away two or three days together. He brought so little game that the family had barely enough to live on. When at home, he was dejected and could hardly be made to talk. His wife’s questions were generally cut short by brutal answers.

Things kept going from bad to worse, and the climax was reached when the man disappeared altogether. Days and weeks passed without bringing any tidings of his whereabouts. In looking over a basket filled with various objects, the woman came across the head and claws of an eagle which had been given her when she was a girl. These she shook and worked on until she made a large eagle’s skin, which she put on herself and flew away to find her husband, who, she feared, was starving or lying ill somewhere. She flew a long time, and came to the outskirts of a large village, alighting near a barabara alongside of which bubbled a spring to which the women came for water. From where she was, the eagle could see a bidarka with her husband in it coming towards the shore. At the same time her attention was drawn to a young woman running to the spring to fetch some water, and, after leaving it in the hut, hurrying down to the beach to greet her faithless husband. Following her rival, the eagle swooped down on the man, and, snatching him in her claws, flew with him into the clouds, from whence she dropped him into the sea.

From this tragedy the eagle flew home to her children, whom she found safe. To the boy she gave a feather and a pebble to eat, which he did. Up to this time all those who had gone up the river failed to return, no one knowing just what had become of them. The boy, when he grew up, told his mother that he had made up his mind to go upstream. She tried in vain to dissuade him from his enterprise by pointing out the dangers and citing cases of strong and brave hunters who had lost their lives in the undertaking. Seeing that he was determined, she yielded, and gave him to take with him a needle and this advice: “If you are in trouble, think of the feather; should no help come from that, remember the pebble; and if very hard pressed, make use of the needle.” The next morning he got into his boat and paddled upstream until he came to a cave into which the tide was setting with such force that he was unable to keep out of it. In the cave he felt a current of warm air and saw a smooth beach, on which he pulled up his bidarka. Pretty soon afterwards he became aware of some one approaching, and great was the boy’s fright when he saw near him a large old man breathing fire. There was, however, no harm done him, except that the old man asked him to follow. They marched into the interior, passing through dark and hot places, gradually ascending to lighter and cooler atmosphere, until they stood on the summit of a mountain whose sides sheered straight down into the sea. “If you wish to live with me,” said the old man, “you must jump off this bluff;” and with this he gave him a push, and the boy felt himself going down, down. He thought of his mother’s advice about the feather, and by doing so became a feather and was carried by the wind back to the top of the mountain. There he resumed his human shape, and went back to his boat and proceeded in his ascent of the river, coming to a bay partly inclosed by steep black walls. In the distance, at the head of the bay, a barabara was visible, and thither the boy pulled and landed. He went in and found a very stout old woman and a young girl, who began to weep when she saw him.

“Why do you weep?” said the old woman. “Who is dead or drowning at sea?” — “I am not drowned. I died neither on land nor on sea,” answered the boy. “If you are alive, come in; but if dead, stay out.” — “I am alive,” he replied, and went in.

When a few questions had been asked and answered, the old woman proposed that the young couple should marry, which was done. The young wife did not love her husband, and begged the old woman to have him killed for fresh meat, but the latter put her off by saying that he was not fat enough. At last the old woman consented to have him killed, and for this purpose told him to go to the top of the hill, to the home of her brother, and there take a bath. He suspected treachery, and was on the lookout.

At the top of the hill a stout old man waited for him to take him to the bath-house, and urged him to hurry with his bathing, for he had a hot roasted codfish waiting for him. When the boy went in, the old man closed up all openings and poured hot oil on the heated rocks in order to smother him; but the boy changed himself into a pebble, and remained so until the door was opened and fresh air blew in. On seeing him come out unharmed, the old man exclaimed, “Ah, you are different from the others!” After having eaten his roasted fish, the old man proposed to the young one to take a run along the edge of the cliffs. This proposition was accepted on condition that the old man take the lead. They started off; and when they reached a steep and dangerous place, the boy shoved his companion off, and he disappeared out of sight. From here he returned home, where he found his wife sitting near the fire and the old woman soundly asleep. His wife he called outside and shot her with the needle his mother gave him, and then he shot the old woman with the same weapon.

Having had enough adventure, he started down the stream to where his mother was; and to her and others he related all that had happened to him. The chief of the village was so delighted that he gave him his daughter in marriage. After that time no harm came to those who went upstream; but they must not approach the cave at flood-tide, for they will be drawn in.

Each volcano has a master. He breathes fire, and he it was who met the boy in the cave. This old man of the volcano does not like rivals, and kills all who come in his way.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

The Boy with the Seal-Flippers

Kawhachnanign, a chief, favors his younger son, who has seal-like flippers. The boy is captured and mocked by enemy warriors, but his mother, in sorrow, pleads for his return. Afterward, Kawhachnanign and his men secretly return to kill the invaders. Seeking further revenge, he attacks the enemy village, killing the old and ugly, and bringing back the others as captives.

Source
Eskimo and Aleut Stories from Alaska
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 22, No. 83, Jan. – Mar., 1909

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The boy’s unique physical traits—having seal-like flippers—highlight themes of transformation or beings that exist between two states.

Family Dynamics: The narrative delves into the relationships within the family, showcasing the father’s favoritism towards his younger son and the mother’s protective instincts.

Revenge and Justice: Following the mistreatment of his son, Kawhachnanign seeks retribution against the enemy warriors, reflecting the pursuit of justice.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

Unga story

Kawhachnanign, chief of a village, had a wife and two sons. The older was the darling of the mother, while the father preferred the younger. This boy had one marked peculiarity, — his hands and feet were like those of a fur-seal. When he was walking, his flippers would interfere with each other, causing the child to fall. The villagers were greatly amused, but fear of the father kept them from manifesting their fun publicly.

One time when the chief and his men were out hunting, a party of warriors from another village came to attack Kawhachnanign and his people. Learning that the men were all gone, the visitors decided to have a grand feast that night, and in the morning kill all the old people and ugly women and children, and take with them the younger women and some of the children.

► Continue reading…

They pulled up their bidarahs (large open skin boats) on the beach without fear or hindrance. All the small boys, who were just then playing near the water, ran away out of danger except the boy with the seal-flippers, who could not keep up. He was captured, gazed at, and made much fun of by the visitors. The mother, when she learned of the whereabouts of the child, advanced towards the warriors, weeping and singing, “I do not love him, but his father loves him. Send him home.” They let him go; and as he walked towards his mother, he fell every few steps. This scene the warriors enjoyed hugely. When he fell, some one picked him up and sat him on his feet again, and this would be succeeded by another fall and more laughter. The mother suffered a great deal, but could not interfere; and when the boy at last reached her, she took him in her arms and ran home weeping.

While the warriors were feasting and making merry, Kawhachnanign and his men were on their way to the village; and when they noticed the camp-fire and the bidarahs on the beach, they knew that the enemy had but recently arrived. They therefore landed in a small cove on another part of the island, and under cover of darkness got into the village unperceived. The chief found his wife in tears, and asked her the cause of her grief, and whether any one had been injured. In reply she took the crippled child and gave him to the father, saying, “Take your child, I do not love him,” and related all that had taken place. He did not say much, but lay down to think. Early in the morning, when it was light enough for one “to see the lines in the palm of the hand,” Kawhachnanign with his men fell on the sleeping and unsuspecting warriors and cut their heads off. Not feeling himself sufficiently revenged, he went to the village of the enemy, killed the old and ugly, and brought the others back as captives.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

The Brother and Sister Who Became Hair-Seals

In a family of twelve brothers and one sister, the sister discovers her secret nightly visitor is her eldest brother. Marking him with red paint and wounding him, she exposes his transgression. The siblings, shamed, leave their family and throw themselves from a bluff. Transformed by their act, they reappear in the sea as hair-seals, their story echoing in nature.

Source
Aleutian Stories
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 18, No. 70, Jul. – Sep., 1905

► Themes of the story

Transformation: The siblings undergo a physical change, turning into hair-seals after their leap from the bluff.

Forbidden Knowledge: The sister’s pursuit of the truth about her nocturnal visitor leads to the revelation of a hidden and taboo reality.

Divine Punishment: The siblings’ transformation into hair-seals can be interpreted as a form of retribution for their transgressions.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleu people

This story was told me by the chief of Unga Island.

In a certain family there were twelve brothers and one sister. She lived in a hut away from the rest of the family. There were no other men living in the neighborhood, and so she was somewhat surprised when some man came to see her at night. She did not know who it was, but suspected that it was one of her brothers, and in order to find out which one of them it was, she prepared some red paint, and when the man was about to leave she dipped her hands into the paint and put them on his shoulders. The next day, as all her brothers were outside playing, she went among them and detected marks of paint on the shoulders of the oldest. Going back to her barrabara, she sharpened her knife and placed it alongside of her.

► Continue reading…

That night, as usual, the man came and slept with her, but as he started to leave she threw her knife at him and cut the sinews of one of his legs. The following morning she went about her work as customary, when some one came to announce that her oldest brother was sick, the sinews of one of his legs being cut.

She went to him, got him out of bed, and set off with him. Their mother, learning the state of affairs, said, “We reared them that they might be a help to us and work for us; but now they have gone and ruined themselves.” The two went a long distance until they arrived at the bluff, over which they threw themselves, and a short time after they appeared as hair-seals.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

The Woman Who Was Fond of Intestines

An Aleut man’s wife discovers his horrific secret: he slaughters her relatives and brings their intestines home to share with the village. Fleeing in horror, she raises her son in exile. The boy grows up, learns the truth, and plots revenge. With his mother’s help, he lures his father and companions to their doom, ultimately avenging his family and restoring justice.

Source
Aleutian Stories
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 18, No. 70, Jul. – Sep., 1905

► Themes of the story

Love and Betrayal: The wife’s discovery of her husband’s infidelity and his gruesome actions against her relatives underscores themes of trust and treachery.

Revenge and Justice: The son, upon learning of his father’s atrocities, orchestrates a plan to avenge his family, aiming to restore moral balance.

Transformation: The emotional and psychological transformations of the characters, especially the son’s journey from innocence to a vengeful figure, are central to the story.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

Once there lived an Aleut with his wife and little boy. The wife was very fond of intestines, and early each morning the husband would go out in his bidarka hunting, and return in the evening with a boat full of intestines which he gave to his wife, telling her to keep what she wanted for herself, and distribute the rest among her neighbors.

The wife was somewhat puzzled by the husband’s actions; she could not understand why he went so early in the morning, where he got so many intestines, or his reasons for wishing to have them distributed among the villagers.

► Continue reading…

She, of course, did not know that her husband had a mistress in the village whom he went to see while his wife was asleep, and that he desired the intestines distributed in order that his wife’s rival might have a share.

All of a sudden, without explanations, the man ceased going out early, and when he did go, he came back but lightly loaded. This did not in the least clear up the mystery to the wife. But one day, when he had gone somewhat later than usually, his mistress called on his wife, whom she found busy sewing a kamalayka out of the intestines her husband brought. The two got into a conversation, and, among other questions, the mistress asked:

“Does your husband love you?” — “Yes.”
“Do you love him?” — “Yes.”
“Do you know where he gets all the intestines?” — “No.”
“Can you guess why he has them distributed over the village?” — “No.”

“I will tell you,” said the mistress, “but you must not tell him I told you. Every day your husband goes to the village where your parents and relatives live and where you lived before your marriage, and kills the people there and brings their intestines to you. Yesterday there were but five people remaining in the village : your mother, your two sisters, and two brothers. He killed your mother and sisters yesterday, and to-day he went to bring the intestines of your brothers. He is in love with another woman of this village, whom he visits nightly when you have fallen asleep.”

With this parting shot she left the house, leaving the poor wife weeping so bitterly that the kamalayka was hot from her tears. For the rest of the day she did not stir from the house, but sat lamenting and sewing. Towards evening her little boy rushed in announcing the approach of his father, which she generally anticipated with pleasure, and always went down to the beach to meet him; but this time she neither answered nor made the least motion. A few minutes later the little son came again saying, “Father is here,” but all the reply he got was a new outburst of weeping.

Missing the usual meeting and greeting of his wife, the father asked the little boy where his mother was, and when told of the state she was in, he hastened to the house, where he found her on the floor shedding bitter tears and sewing the kamalayka.

“Why do you weep? has some one offended you?” — “No one has offended me.”
“Why then this lamentation?” — “I was thinking of my mother, sisters, and brothers, and my other relatives in my native village, and I wondered how they were getting along, and this made me weep.”

He did not attempt to cheer her, but after a pause he said, “I did not kill many animals to-day — two only.” This enraged her so that she jumped up from the floor, picked up the little boy, who was near her, and threw him at him, saying, “If my two brothers do not satisfy you, take him also.” The boy’s forehead came in contact with the edge of a sharp knife on the father’s breast, making quite a gash from which the blood flowed freely. This the mother noticed before escaping out of the house.

Putting aside the boy, the man made a dash for the woman, but she got out of his reach, and being the better runner of the two he did not succeed in laying hands on her. She would let him come up quite close to her, and then dash away again until he saw the hopelessness of the chase and gave it up.

In a short time the boy’s wound healed, but it left a very noticeable scar. Now that his mother was gone, his father placed him in the care of his sister, with instructions that he should under no circumstances be allowed to go very far from home. In this manner he passed a few years longer, until he became the proud possessor of a bow and arrows, with which he often amused himself. One day, while indulging in his favorite sport, he began to wonder why his father and aunt forbade his going far from the house; and the more he thought about it the more anxious did he become to go, until he finally concluded “to go just a little distance beyond that hill to see what is there.” On the way he noticed a hillock just ahead of him, at which he discharged his arrow, then ran and got it, aimed at another and another, and became so absorbed in this amusement that he did not observe how far from home it was taking him. One hillock somewhat different from the others especially attracted his attention as offering a good mark. He took aim and sent his arrow flying right into the centre of it; but what was his surprise on approaching the supposed hillock to discover that it was a barrabara, and that the arrow had gone inside through the hole in the top. When he peeped in, he was frightened at the sight of a very wild-looking woman who stared at him, and he began to cry. “Why do you cry?” the woman asked. “I want my arrow.” “Come in and get it,” the woman invited. But he was too scared to do that; he however got up courage enough to stick his foot in, hoping to draw it out that way, and he had nearly succeeded when he heard the woman move.

At this he ran away in tears. The woman called him back, saying: “Do not be afraid of me. I am your mother. It is I who threw you at your father, making the scar on your forehead. Come in, I will not harm you.” When he saw that it was really his mother, he went to her and remained with her two days. During that time she told him his father’s wicked deeds, how he mistreated and neglected her for another, and finally wrought on him so that he swore he would revenge her wrongs. She bade him go home, but attempt nothing for the present, and make no mention of what he had seen and heard.

During the boy’s absence the father was away hunting, but the aunt was quite worked up over the long absence, and ran about the fields looking for him. When he returned she asked him all sorts of questions as to his whereabouts, but all the satisfaction she got from him was that he had lost his way and could not get back. She offered him food, which he refused to touch, and finally refused to answer her when spoken to. Toward evening of the same day his father returned, and, when told that the boy would neither eat nor drink, asked what was the matter with him; but for an answer the boy turned his back on him and went to sleep. The father then inquired of the aunt whether anything unusual had occurred and whether the boy had been far from home, and to all this she replied that all during his (father’s) absence the boy’s life had gone on as ordinarily, and that he was not out of sight of the house the whole time.

As the boy grew older he avoided his father more and more, and when he reached early manhood the father lost control over him and actually feared him. One day, while the older man was away hunting, the young man took his bow and arrows, some food and water, and set out to see his mother. Before going, he told his aunt that he intended going quite a distance from home, and not to be, therefore, uneasy over his long absence. He went to the place where he had last seen his mother, and, as she was not there, he wandered on until on the following day he came in sight of some barrabaras and two men. They answered him when he spoke to them, but when he wished to enter into one of the barrabaras they barred his way. While they were thus disputing, his mother appeared on the scene and motioned to the men to let him pass. When he came inside he was greatly surprised at the quantity of furs that was lying about in great disorder, and at the abundance of meats and other eatables that he found there. He was certain he had never seen anything like it before. After eating, his mother told him to spend the night there, and in the morning take as many of the best furs as he could carry and go back to the village of his father, in order to tempt him and his relatives to come hunting in this neighborhood, which would offer an opportunity to repay him for what he had done. The boy did as he was told, took with him a heavy load of precious furs, and started back.

In his absence, the mother and the people with whom she was living made elaborate and crafty preparations for the reception of the expected guests. In the large barrabara, where the feasts and dances were always held and where visitors were generally received, quantities of oil were sprinkled about and covered up with grass. Along the walls seal-bladders full of oil were concealed, and screened with straw mats. And in this place the visitors were to be received.

The young man’s father was home on his return, and received the present of furs which his son made him with much pleasure, for the boy seemed so kindly disposed that the father hoped that his natural affection for his parent had returned. He inquired the whereabouts of the hunting grounds where the son had secured these skins, and the latter told him that it was not very far, and that it was very rich, and that he planned to go back the next day to the same place, and if he and his men cared to accompany him, he would be glad to show them the way. His offer was accepted, and the following morning a large party left the village for the hunting ground.

Some of the people of the mother’s village had been on the lookout, and when they saw the large party approaching, they changed themselves into wild beasts, — bears, wolves, foxes, etc. The hunters marked them and shot at them, but it had no other result than to drive the beasts nearer and nearer to the village. These tactics the men-beasts repeated until the hunters were decoyed into the village. Seeing so many barrabaras, the men asked the boy who the people were that lived in them. “They are friendly people,” he replied, “with whom I spent the night the last time I was in this neighborhood. To-morrow morning we will go to the other side of the village, where there is a great deal of game.” The people of the village greeted them very cordially, and assigned a place for the night to each one of them; the father and son were given the barrabara where the latter had been entertained on his previous visit. Although the mother was in the same room with them they were not aware of it, for she had concealed herself. Everywhere about them were scattered the richest furs, and the food before them was the choicest and best, and so much of it that it rather made the older man uneasy, for, though an old hunter, he had never seen anything like it before. In the evening all the people of the village, including the guests, went to the large dance-hall, where the formal reception was held and the guests entertained as was customary. One by one they descended through the hole in the roof, the only entrance there was. The interior was lighted up by two rows of stone lamps filled with oil, and grass wicks. On one side of the room sat the local men, while the visitors faced them from the other; the centre was occupied by the women, and on the two sides sat seven or eight men with drums in their hands, on which they played and accompanied their singing. They would take turns; first the local men would sing their local songs, and then the visitors sang theirs. To this music the women danced with men whom they invited from either side.

Everything moved along smoothly and joyfully until the father recognized his wife among the women. She was dancing and moving towards him. At this sight he turned pale and looked for away to get out, but the ladder had been removed. The woman moved up to him, grasped his hand, and dragged him to dance; but he resisted. The boy, who sat near, urged him and pushed him on, but all in vain. Then the woman began to sing him a song in which she went over all his misdeeds, his unfaithfulness, his cruelties, his falsehoods, as well as many of his other shortcomings, and concluded with these words, “You and your men shall never leave this place alive.” When she had said this, all the local people, including the mother and son, were turned into birds or flying insects and flew out through the hole in the roof. The visitors, unable to follow them, remained behind. On the outside grass and wood were ignited and thrown in, which set on fire the grass and oil inside. Then the smoke hole was stopped up; and in this way all those who were inside were smothered to death. A few days later the son went to his father’s village, destroying it as completely as his father had destroyed his mother’s.

He spared, however, his aunt, whom he brought back with him.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page

The Sad Fate of Uchatngiak

The tale of Uchatngiak intertwines themes of curiosity, love, and transformation. Born into seclusion, Uchatngiak defies restrictions, experiencing life, love with a mystical goose-woman, and fatherhood. Betrayed by societal prejudice, his wife leaves, prompting Uchatngiak’s relentless quest for reunion. His journey unveils magical encounters and the enigmatic “Bird Heaven.” In a tragic twist, he transforms into a white whale, blending mythology with profound allegorical depth.

Source
Tales from Kodiak Island
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 16, No. 61, Apr. – Jun., 1903

► Themes of the story

Transformation: Uchatngiak undergoes a significant metamorphosis, ultimately becoming a white whale.

Quest: Uchatngiak embarks on a relentless journey to reunite with his wife and son, encountering various challenges along the way.

Tragic Flaw: Uchatngiak’s insatiable curiosity and defiance of restrictions set the stage for his eventual downfall.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aleut people

These tales were obtained by the author at Unga Island, Alaska, during a three years’ residence. They were told in the Russian language by Mrs. Reed, Nicoli Medvednikoff, Corneil Panamaroff, all natives of the island of Kodiak where they had heard them, and translated some literally, others more freely. The natives of Kodiak speak Russian almost as freely as they do their mother tongue. They call themselves “Aleuts,” and wherever that word is used, it refers to them, and not to the real Aleuts to the west. The author has but lately returned from Alaska.

It was a very large settlement, and over it presided only one chief. This chief had a son whom, from babyhood, he kept secluded in a barrabara. Two men watched continuously over him, giving him no opportunity either to go or look out. The boy, Uchatngiak, as he grew up and heard the shouts of the men who were shooting ducks in the bay with their bows and arrows, the laughter of others, playing “nabada” (a stick is set up and stones thrown at it), the cheering of still others, testing their skill of marksmanship on a piece of kelp, tried in vain to guess the reason of his seclusion. One day in early spring, being very restless and hearing more noise than usual, he decided to see what was going on outside. While one man was after fresh water, he sent the other one to fetch him some roots, and in the mean time pulled out the seal-intestine window, and looked out. A rapturous sight greeted him: the green grass, the flowers just beginning to bloom, the clear sky overhead, the young men happy and sportive, hunting and playing games; he gazed till blinded by tears, then fell on his bed, and wept.

The guards on their return, finding him in this condition, were frightened, thinking he was ill, or what was worse, perhaps he had looked out; in that case they would be severely punished.

► Continue reading…

He would not answer their many questions at first; but when he became composed, told them everything, and ordered them to go to his father, and say to him that he desired to go and stay outside. One of the men went to the chief, and reported to him what happened and how it happened, and delivered the son’s message. The chief thought a while, and then said: “My son is now grown up, he may come and live outside.”

The chief ordered some of his servants to dress his son in a sea-otter parka and torbarsars, to spread skins on the ground for him to walk on, to place a bearskin on the roof of the barrabara for him to sit on; others of his servants he sent through the village, inviting the people to come and see his son, concerning whom they knew nothing. Uchatngiak, seated on the barrabara, gazed with astonishment on all the people and wonders about him. Five white geese, who happened to fly by just then, had a special fascination for him, and he eyed them till they settled down some distance off. “People hunt them. I too will go and hunt them,” thought he. Sending his guards away on different errands, he snatched a bow and arrow, and started after the geese.

When he came to the place where the geese seemed to alight, he saw a lake and in it five beautiful girls bathing and enjoying themselves. In order to get a better look at them, he began sneaking around the lake, and, while doing so, came across five white geese skins. Taking one, the smallest, he sat down at a distance to see what would happen. Pretty soon the girls, who were sisters, came out of the water, and walked to the place where they left their skins. The four older sisters were soon ready to fly, but waited impatiently for the youngest sister. “Do hurry, we must be going,” they called.

“I have looked all around here for my skin, but I cannot find it,” she weepingly said. The others joined with her in the fruitless search, until Uchatngiak was espied, when the four geese flew up and away, and the girl ran to him, and begged: “O give me back my skin.” Looking at her beautiful form, he said : “No, I will not give it back to you.” He dressed her in his parka and torbarsars, and asked her to come home with him. For ten days she lived with him in his barrabara before his mother learned the fact, but she said nothing. During the day Uchatngiak hunted, and his wife went to the lake to feed on the delicate grasses that geese like so well. In this manner the young couple lived happily together until the following spring. A son was born to them in the mean while.

Uchatngiak had a very meddlesome sister, who disliked her strange sister-in-law, and often, in speaking with other women, would remark that her sister-in-law had a peculiar mouth, resembling that of a goose, and that, whenever she laughed, she covered her mouth, so that no one could see her teeth. One day, while Uchatngiak was away from home, his sister called and shamefully abused his wife, and called her a goose. The wife endured the abuse a long time, and then, putting on her goose skin, flew out through the hole in the roof and away. An alarm was given, that a goose flew out of the chief’s son’s house; and some chased after her, but in vain. Uchatngiak, when he returned and found his wife gone, grieved for her, and complained bitterly.

Several years passed. The boy, who was now five years old, was in the habit of going everywhere with his father. One day they were on the beach, Uchatngiak was fixing his bidarka, and the boy was amusing himself with a bow and arrow; while there, five geese flew right over their heads, and lighted on the rocks near the point. The boy noticed them, and said: “Father, I will go and shoot them.” Not returning soon, the father went to look for him, and could not find him, but in the distance saw the five white geese flying. “His mother joined her sisters, and they came and took my son from me !” he cried out, and felt very miserable and lonely.

This happened in the fall; and he decided to go immediately in search of his wife and son. He took with him a stone hatchet, five dried salmon, and one sour salmon. (Formerly, the Aleuts buried the salmon for the winter, and when they took them out, the salmon were “sour.”) Eastward he went a half of the winter before anything unusual broke into the monotony of his journey. One day, while following a very narrow path, he came upon two fierce foxes fighting in the path. He asked them several times to let him pass, but they heeded him not; finally, one of the foxes said to him: “Give us your sour salmon, and we will let you pass.” Dividing the salmon in two parts, he threw one part to one side and the other to the other side of the path; and while the foxes rushed for the fish, he passed on. From the top of the mountain which he ascended, he saw in the valley below smoke coming out of a small barrabara, and a path leading down to it. The path led him to the door of the barrabara, and when he pushed it in, he saw a very stout woman seated on the floor, making fine sinew threads. “May I come in ?” he asked. Without raising her head, she replied: “If you are alive, you may, if a ghost, do not.”

“I am alive,” and walked in.

“What do you want?” she asked, still without raising her head.

“I wish to know where my wife and son are?”

“I will not tell you, but if you give me half of a dried salmon, I will tell you how you may find out.”

He gave her what she asked, and when she had eaten it, she said: “Go to the top of yonder hill, there you will see two paths, one leading to the right and the other to the left. Follow the one to the right until you come to my brother who will tell you where they are.” Giving her the other half of the salmon also, he walked up the hill, took the path to the right, and followed it many days without seeing a sign of habitation. At last, one evening, while in a very narrow path, he heard a noise and then some one singing very softly. The music led him to the beach where an old man sat, singing and chopping off chips from a large stick. On closer observation, he noted that the smallest chips on falling into the water turned to trout, the larger chips became humpback salmon, the still larger ones changed to dog-salmon, those next to the largest were transformed to king-salmon, and the largest chips swam away silver-salmon. He crept closely behind the old man, watched him, and thought: “If I could get the stone hatchet, he would be obliged to tell me where they are.” The old man continued singing and chopping, and, once, as he raised up the hatchet to cut off a king-salmon, it slipped from his hand, falling at the feet of Uchatngiak. When the old man turned around, and saw the stranger, he said:

“You have my hatchet.”

“No, I have it not; but if you will tell me where my wife and son are, I will give you your old hatchet and a new one besides.”

“Give them to me;” and when he had them, he said, “I am about to cut off a king-salmon. Just as soon as he appears in the water, clutch him and hold fast to him; he will take you to your wife and son.”

He grabbed the salmon, the salmon seized his clothes, and away they went through weeds and kelp, current and stream, along the bottom of the sea, then gradually in shallow and shallower water and sandy bottom. Close to the shore he looked up and saw his son, with a bow and arrow in his hand, eying the salmon. With his feet he steered the salmon close to the boy who shot and killed the salmon, and, on pulling him out, was greatly surprised to see his father sticking on.

“Where is your mother?”

“In the barrabara,” the boy replied.

“Go and tell her that I wish to see her.”

“You had better wait outside until I go and see about it.”

The boy started off, and, when he came near the barrabara, commenced to cry. Going to his aunt Akcheten, he said : “Uchatngiak fell down; go and bring him in.” She pushed him aside, saying: “We left him afar off; and we cannot go now in winter and bring him in.” From her he went to aunt Chavillo, Qulo, and Podonigyuk, who put him off in the same manner as aunt Akcheten. Leaving them, he approached his mother, saying, “Uchatngiak fell down; go and bring him in.”

“Where is he?”

“Outside the barrabara.”

She looked, and there, as the boy said, sat Uchatngiak. She seemed glad to see him, and began questioning him : “Why and how did you come here ? You cannot live with us. This is “Bird Heaven.” (The Aleuts believed that the birds, on leaving Alaska in the fall, went to a place somewhere above the earth, known as Bird Heaven or Bird Home.)

“I came to see my wife and son. Can you not manage to keep me with you a short time?” he pleaded.

They promised to keep him, if he would promise not to go out of the barrabara. The village in which he now found himself was very large, containing many inhabitants of various colors: some red, others black, still others a mixture of colors; in fact, people of all colors and shades conceivable. In the early spring evenings his wife, her sisters, and the boy, putting on their goose skins, would fly away and not return until dawn. Before going, they made him pledge not to leave the barrabara; but during the night, as he heard many people talking, and strange and mysterious noises outside, he wished that he could go out and solve the mystery. Later in the spring, instead of going in the evenings and returning in the mornings, his folks flew away in the morning, and remained away all day. He begged to be taken along, but they paid no attention to the request.

In one end of the village was an extraordinarily large barrabara, and thither, he noticed, the different people, his own among them, gathered and remained the whole day. Two days he observed them assemble without learning their doings; on the third day his curiosity overcame him. Sneaking out of the house, he crawled to the barrabara, and, pushing aside the grass and sticks, peeped in. The interior was filled with birds, dressing and painting themselves with the variously colored rocks lying about. Everybody was already dressed or dressing, except two who were still naked. Akcheten and Chavillo spied him, and, turning to Agoiyuan (his wife), said, “Uchatngiak is peeping.” The alarm was given instantly, and the birds hurried to dress the two naked ones, sea-gull and raven. In the excitement the raven was painted black all over and the sea-gull all white, which colors they have retained to this day. Uchatngiak had seen enough, and hastened home; and when the family returned he was scolded severely, and told that the following day the whole village would depart. He pleaded not to be left behind until they finally consented to take him with them. The eagle was asked to take him on his back and carry him across safely; but when the raven heard of this arrangement, she came coaxing and begging to be allowed to carry him.

“You will soon tire, and you might hurt him,” the sisters, refusing her, said.

“If I tire, and I will not, I will turn over, and you can all see.”

She coaxed so long that they promised to let her try. The next day all the birds left Bird Heaven earthward. Uchatngiak was perched on the raven’s back, with the other birds around them to render assistance should it be needed. When about half way across, the raven began to turn over, but soon steadied herself.

“Let the eagle carry him, let the eagle carry him; you are tired, you will drop him,” they all began to clamor.

“I am not tired, and I can carry him myself,” she haughtily replied.

They had gone only a little farther when, without warning, the raven went down with her burden into the deep sea. All the other birds hovered about the spot of the accident, ready to do what they could. The eagle had his claws in position to snatch Uchatngiak when he should come to the surface. But the same Uchatngiak never appeared; for he was changed to a white whale. The raven became a drifting, large-rooted tree-trunk. Seeing the sad ending, the geese left the mournful spot, and in time came to the earth where they laid eggs, and hatched them, and have continued doing so ever since.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page