Light

In a time when light was scarce and hoarded by one village, a persistent raven undertook a daring quest to bring illumination to all. Using cunning and determination, he tricked the guardians of light, releasing the moon, stars, and sun into the sky. His triumph earned him glory, marriage to the chief’s daughters, and a place in myth as a symbol of ingenuity and perseverance.

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

Creation: The tale explains the origin of celestial bodies—moon, stars, and sun—illuminating the previously dark world.

Trickster: The raven embodies the trickster archetype, using his wit to deceive the guardians and achieve his goal.

Quest: The raven embarks on a journey to obtain light for all, facing challenges along the way.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

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.

Light was not so universal formerly as now. Its cheering influences were then cast over one village only; and even there it depended on the caprices of the chief, who regulated and guarded it jealously. All other villages lived in darkness, although aware of the existence of light in that village.

They made many attempts to get possession of it : some, after a few efforts, gave up in despair; others, not so easily discouraged, continued a longer time with the same empty result; and one village, owing to the persistent character of its chief, would never own itself defeated, and persevered in spite of past failures.

Here, in the village hall, the people gathered daily to discuss the all-important question of light, and concluded to call for volunteers to go in quest of it. To the fortunate one the following reward was held out — eternal glory, and the hand of the chief’s beautiful and favorite daughter.

Considering the inducements, there were no lack of volunteers at first, but, as none of these returned, not even to tell the story of the failure, the list became small and smaller, and after a time weeks would pass without any one offering himself.

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What became of these eager seekers after light was a mystery. It was generally supposed that some dropped by the wayside, and the others, on reaching the land of light, and finding the task too arduous, decided to remain there always rather than go back without light. The chief, however, was undaunted, and continued calling the meetings and for volunteers regularly.

At one of these the raven was present. He listened attentively to all the speeches, and heard the chief’s call for volunteers, and when a considerable time had elapsed without any one indicating his desire to go, he rose and addressed the assembly. Sad to say, his speech has been lost in the dark ages, except the last and memorable words: “I will bring you light.” This was followed by such loud peals of laughter and mocking hoots that the building almost shook. The chief, who was deep in thought during the raven’s harangue, was aroused from his revery by this sudden outburst of laughter, and inquired the cause of it. With much derision the speech and boasts of the raven were repeated to him. Although he may have had as little faith in the words of the raven as the others, he was yet too wise a man to let any opportunity, no matter how slim, of obtaining light — the great object of his life — go by unembraced. Instead of joining in the laughter, he mildly reproved his followers, and then addressing himself to the raven, congratulated him on his noble resolution, encouraged him to persevere, and ended by reminding him of the prize that awaited him whose efforts should be crowned with success.

With this the meeting dissolved. The raven, satisfied with the present and rejoicing in the future, flew home to make ready for the expedition. Joyfully he related the events of the day to his grandmother, a woman. “Caw! caw! caw! Grandmother, tomorrow I start after the light; and on my return with it I shall marry the chief’s beautiful daughter and become famous. Make all things ready, for I leave early in the morning. Caw! caw! caw!”

“Ai-Ai-Yah !” she exclaimed. “Better ones than you have tried and failed, and how will you, a raven, get it? Why do you want to marry? Who will marry such a one as you? You smell too strong.”

This was too much for him. “You old hag!” he screamed with rage, “Who is asking your opinion or advice ? How does my smell concern you? You will not sleep with me. To spite you I will marry, and the chief’s daughter at that. Even if I am a raven, I will do what I promise; and you do what I tell you, or you will be sorry.”

She was sorry there and then, for he went at her with claws and bill till she begged for mercy, and promised to be more considerate in the future.

Early the next morning he left the village, and after several days of flight in the darkness it lightened up faintly. The farther he went, the lighter it became; and when he reached the village, the light was so strong that it almost blinded him. It was a large and cheerful village; the chief’s large barrabara, where the lights were kept, was in the centre. Close by was a spring of water, and there the raven alighted and eyed sharply the women as they came for water. Not noticing the chief’s daughter among them, he began to wish that she would appear. A moment later he saw her coming towards him; and when she had dipped out some water, he murmured, “I wish she would drink some of it.” The words had barely been said when she bent over to drink. Instantly he changed himself into a tiny piece of down, and, unnoticed, she gulped it down with the water.

She conceived, and in due time gave birth to a son, a raven. Being the first child of an only child, he was fondled and nursed tenderly. The chief was especially devoted to him, and loved him even more than his daughter. He was indulged and humored in all his wishes. Whatever he saw he called for; whatever he called for had to be given to him; and if it was not given him immediately, he cawed, cried, pestered, clawed, and pecked until he got it. In this manner he handled everything on the premises that might possibly contain the lights, except three little caskets on an out of the way shelf. These he noticed one day, and asked for them. The chief was asleep, and as no one else dared touch them, the request was denied. But he would have them, and he commenced such a cawing, scratching, and hawing that the chief awoke. Not waiting to learn the cause of all this disturbance, he shouted angrily, “O, give him anything he wants, and shut him up!” and went to sleep again.

The caskets were handed him, and he opened them one by one. In the first was night; the second contained the moon and stars; and in the third the sun was shining. He looked at them awhile, and then thrust them aside as worthless. But a few days later, when no one was about, he flew upon the shelf, grasped the two boxes containing the precious lights, and flew out with them. Some of the people outside noticed him, and raised the cry: “A raven flew out of the chief’s barrabara with two boxes in his mouth! “When the chief discovered his loss, the raven was miles away.

He flew many days; and each day it grew darker and darker until he was in darkness altogether. After suffering some hardships he arrived in the village, reported himself to the chief, and requested that the people be called together. When all were assembled, he addressed them, congratulated them, reminded them of the last meeting, the promises made, and concluded by saying: “I have brought you light.” In the presence of all he opened one of the caskets, and instantly the moon and stars were visible in the sky. The people and chief were almost wild with joy; and the latter kept his promise, and bestowed on him his favorite daughter.

On the morrow the raven called on his father-in-law, and asked what he had to offer for a still better light than even the moon and stars. “My other daughter,” replied the chief. “Call the people, and you shall have it,” said the raven. If the villagers were wild with joy on seeing the moon and stars, imagine their emotions on beholding for the first time the sun. Since that memorable day the sun, moon, and stars have illuminated the whole world. The crow married the two daughters of the chief, with whom he is living very happily to this day.

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The Girl Who Went in Search of Her Lover

A beautiful girl defies her village’s misfortunes to search for her lost lover, only to encounter a cannibalistic shaman who killed him. Through cunning and courage, she outwits the shaman and his flesh-eating sisters, ultimately ending their reign of terror. Her daring journey brings peace to her village, transforming her into a celebrated hero and symbol of resilience.

Source
Tales from Kodiak Island
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 16, No. 60, Jan. – Mar., 1903

► Themes of the story

Quest: The protagonist embarks on a perilous journey to find her lost lover, demonstrating determination and bravery.

Good vs. Evil: The narrative centers on the struggle between the virtuous girl and the malevolent shaman and his sisters.

Revenge and Justice: By defeating the shaman and his sisters, the protagonist avenges her lover’s death and restores peace to her village.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

Learn more about the Aleut people

A terrible misfortune befell the people of a very large village. Of all the hunters that left the village not one ever came back, nor was it known what became of them. In that village lived a very beautiful girl, who loved and was beloved by a brave young hunter and joyfully consented to become his wife; but the parents objecting, the marriage never came off. The disappointed lover decided to drown his grief in hunting, and, although cautioned by the old men, insisted on going and went. A week, a month, passed, and when he did not return, he was given up as lost. Not so the girl; she could not believe him dead, and concluded to go and search for him.

Secretly she made preparations, and one night, when all the other villagers were sleeping, stole out quietly, and, taking her father’s one-hatch bidarka and kamalayka (waterproof shirt made of intestines), started off. After going some distance from the village, she ceased paddling, closed her eyes, and began to sing. She sang a verse, then opened her eyes, and on noticing that the bidarka was drifting with the current, shut her eyes again and continued singing. At the end of the second verse, she looked about again, and, seeing the bidarka drifting as before, only faster, closed her eyes and sang a long time.

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When she looked around the next time, the bidarka was going very, very fast. Becoming alarmed, she tried unsuccessfully to change its course. The speed of the boat increased each moment; and soon she heard the mighty roar of falling waters.

Her life without her lover was not worth living, so closing her eyes, she resigned herself to her fate and awaited death. Very swiftly the boat rushed now; the roaring waters became dreadful; and her heart almost stopped beating when she felt herself going down, down, down, and suddenly coming to a standstill. She was not hurt, but could neither come out nor move. The bidarka was fast.

Dawn was approaching as she lay there, wondering what would become of her and what became of her lover. When it was broad daylight, she saw a bidarka, with one man in it, coming toward her. On coming closer, the man exclaimed, “Ha! Ha! I have another victim,” and placed a bow and arrow, having a two-edged knife on the end, near him for immediate use. But as he came a little nearer, he put back his weapons, saying to himself, “Seems to me that is a woman. No, it cannot be,” he added a moment later, and picked up his bow and arrow again, only to replace them, and crying out, “If you are a woman, speak up, and I will not kill you; for I do not kill women.” She assured him that she was a woman, and he came and took her out of the bidarka, seated her in his, and paddled off with her.

Reaching his home, a small barrabara, and occupied by him alone, she noticed many human heads; and in one, not yet badly decomposed, she recognized her lover’s. She did not say a word, but swore vengeance. The man told her that he would have her for his wife, and ordered her to cook something for him to eat, which she did of deer and seal meat. At bedtime, he pointed to a corner of the barrabara, telling her to lie there, while he slept in the opposite corner. Although this arrangement seemed queer to her, she obeyed without questioning.

The following morning he led her to a little small barrabara, and showed her a number of headless human bodies. “These,” said he, “I do not eat; but I have three sisters, living some distance from here, who eat human flesh only. It is for them that I killed these people. Each day I take one of these bodies to a different sister.” He then lifted up a corpse, and, taking his bow and arrow, walked off. The girl followed him to the place where the road forked. One path led to the right, another to the left, and the third continued straight before her. Noticing which he took, she returned to the barrabara, and busied herself the rest of the day, removing two of the posts from one of the walls, and digging an underground passage out. All the dirt she removed and dumped into the sea, and cunningly concealed the passage. Towards evening she cooked supper, and when he returned, they ate it in silence and then retired; she in her corner and he in his.

After breakfast the next morning, he carried away another corpse. She, taking the bow and arrow which he left behind, followed him secretly. Where the road divided, he took the path to the left, while she followed the one in the middle. After keeping it for a while, she cut across to the left path, and by hurrying managed to reach the home of his sister and kill her before he came there. From there she ran to the homes of the other sisters, killing them, and then back to the barrabara. He, coming to his sister’s, and finding her dead, hastened to the homes of the other sisters, and finding them dead also, suspected the criminal, and determined to kill her.

She was sitting on the barrabara when he came. “You killed my sisters and I will kill you,” he cried. He rushed for his bow and arrow, but they were not in their places, and when he discovered them in her hands, he began begging them of her, promising to do her no harm. At first she refused, but he pleaded and promised until she, trusting in his promises, gave them to him. As soon as he had them, he shouted, “Now you shall die,” and shot at her. But she, dropping through the smoke hole, was out of sight before the arrow could reach her; and while he was looking for the arrow, she crawled out through the underground passage, and perched herself anew on the barrabara. This sudden appearance was a mystery to him, since the door was closed. Again and again he shot at her, and each time she disappeared and appeared in the same mysterious manner. At last, seeing that he could not hurt her, he said, “Since I cannot kill you, take these, and kill me.”

“I do not want to kill you,” she said, “But I am afraid that you will kill me some day, when you think of my doings.”

He swore never to hurt her, and she came down. They ate supper, and retired in the usual manner; but as he was about to fall asleep, she moved close to him, and commenced talking to him, keeping him awake the whole night. Five days and nights she tortured him in this way, giving him no opportunity to sleep. On the sixth day, in spite of all that she could do, he fell into a deep sleep. Although she pulled and pinched him, he could not be aroused. She then brought a block of wood from outside, and, placing it under his neck, cut his head off with a knife which she stole from one of his sisters.

In his bidarka she put his bow and arrow and knife, and, seating herself in it, started on her homeward journey by way of the falls. But the falls were there no more; for they existed through the evil power of the man, who was a shaman; and when he died, his influence ceased; the river flowed smoothly and steadily in the old channel. Her bidarka she found drifted on the beach, and after repairing and placing his weapons in it, paddled away, and in good time came home.

When the people of the village learned her adventures, and that she killed the shaman, they rejoiced exceedingly. The old men decreed that the shaman’s weapons, which the girl had brought along, should be thrown on the garbage pile, where they would be polluted.