The woman without a nose

An Aleut hunter deceives his wife, feigning death to join another woman. Guided by a bird’s message, his wife discovers his betrayal, kills his mistress, and confronts him. Overwhelmed by guilt and shame, the man drowns himself in the sea. This myth explores themes of loyalty, deceit, and the emotional toll of betrayal within isolated lives.

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

Love and Betrayal: The husband’s deceit and abandonment of his wife for another woman highlight themes of infidelity and treachery.

Cunning and Deception: The husband’s feigned death to pursue a new relationship exemplifies deceitful behavior.

Revenge and Justice: The wife’s actions in discovering the betrayal and confronting her husband underscore themes of retribution and the restoration of moral order.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

Learn more about the Aleut people

Belkovsky story

At the head of a long bay lived a man and his wife apart from other human beings, of whose existence they were hardly aware. Every pleasant morning the man went hunting, returning in the evening with a bidarka full of seal-meat. One day, however, he failed to come back at the usual time. This made the woman uneasy, and she kept a look-out for him; and when he finally appeared, he had only one small seal. To the numerous questions of the wife he merely replied, “The seals are scarce, and I have to go far to get them.” She believed him. The next day he was again late, and had the same hard-luck story to tell. He looked worried, ate little, and refused to talk. Occasionally he would be gone two and three days at a stretch, returning with but little game.

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Finally he told his wife that he was ill and about to die, and made her promise that when that sad day should come, she would dress him up as if he were going hunting, and leave him with his boat and weapons in the open air. A few days after this conversation she found him dead, and she faithfully carried out her promise. In the evening, being exhausted from much weeping and hard work, she went into the hut and fell asleep.

When she woke up, neither husband, nor bidarka, nor weapons were to be seen, but on the beach she discovered tracks made by her husband in carrying the boat to the water. “Ai, Ai, Y-a-h. This is why he died, and asked to be buried in this manner!” For a whole day and night she sat as if stupefied, trying in vain to solve the mystery. After the first shock was over, she did the best she could to adjust her life to the new conditions and accept the inevitable. But one day while she was cutting grass, a little bird perched itself on a bush near her and repeated three times, “Mack-la-cluili woani.” The woman listened attentively, and concluded that the bird meant for her to go in search of her husband. She hurried home to put on her torbasas (soft skin shoes) and belt, and set out. Over hills and valleys she walked before she came in sight of a bay, where she noticed a man in a bidarka fishing, and she suspected him of being her husband. Not far from her was a hut, to which she directed her footsteps; and on going in, she saw a woman around the fire cooking seal-meat. A better look at the woman disclosed the fact that her face was quite flat; there was not even a sign of a nose. Yet she sniffed the air and said, “Fati. I smell a human being. Where did it die, on sea or on land?” — “I died neither on sea nor on land,” said the new-comer, “but came to find my husband.” On the floor was a large knife, which the visitor picked up unperceived, and, watching her chance, attacked the noseless woman and cut her head off. Her body was carried outside, the head replaced, and she was made to look as natural as possible.

This done, the deserted wife hid near by to await the coming of her faithless husband. As he approached, he called, “I am coming!” but receiving no reply, he shouted again, “I am coming!” Still no reply. A third time, “I am coming! Are you angry again today? I did not go anywhere.” When he pulled up his bidarka, he spoke again, “Why are you angry? Here I am.” He went up to his mistress, and, on touching her, the head fell off. Just then his wife appeared, and said, “This is how you died.” He looked at her and then at the mistress, and began to weep. Turning his back on both of them, he got into his bidarka, pulled away a short distance from the shore, turned it over, and drowned himself.

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The woman who became a bear

An Aleut husband fakes his death, abandoning his wife and children to live with another woman. Guided by a bird’s warning, the wife discovers his betrayal, murders the rival, and dons a bear skin. When confronted, the husband’s pleas for forgiveness fail. Consumed by rage, she kills him, her children, and retreats to the wilderness, becoming a savage bear.

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

Love and Betrayal: The narrative centers on the husband’s deceit and abandonment, leading to the wife’s feelings of betrayal.

Revenge and Justice: In response to her husband’s infidelity, the wife seeks vengeance by killing his new partner, him, and eventually her own children.

Family Dynamics: The story delves into complex familial relationships, highlighting the impact of the husband’s actions on his wife and children.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

Learn more about the Aleut people

Kadiak story

On the bank of a river lived a man with his wife and several small children. One day the husband told his wife that he was ill and going to die, and requested her that when dead she should leave him on the ground uncovered, with his bidarka and bow and arrows near him.

The next morning she found him dead, and she did with him as he had asked. For three days the body rested where she had left it, and around it she with her children sat weeping. But on the morning of the fourth not a sign of the body or boat was to be seen. She puzzled over the matter for a time, but the calls of her children for food kept her from brooding over it too long.

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Not many days after this mysterious disappearance, a little bird settled on the barabara and sang. Although the woman listened attentively, she could not make out what it said. About the same time on the succeeding day the little bird sang again; but this time the woman thought she heard the bird say, “Your husband is not dead. He is living with another woman at the mouth of the river.” This same song was repeated on the third morning. Hearing this sad news, the woman felt very bitter towards her husband, and she wept a great deal. She spent the rest of the day in preparing food for her children to last them three days, and early next morning set out for the mouth of the river. From the top of every hill she searched diligently for signs of habitation. Towards noon she sighted a hut, to which she walked and went in.

There she was greeted by a very beautiful woman, whose skin was white, and who sat on the floor (with the knees under the chin) making mats. The new-comer inquired of the white-skinned woman whether she was married. “Yes, my husband is hunting and will be back this evening.” As the hostess knew nothing at all of the history of her visitor, she treated her hospitably, setting food before her, and for a time they chatted very pleasantly. In the course of the conversation the white-skinned woman asked the other one what she did to make her cheeks look red. “That’ s very simple,” replied the visitor; “I boil a pot of water, and hold my face over it until it turns red.”

“I think I will do that, too; it will make my husband love me more,” said White-Skin. She boiled a pot of water and held her face over it. Red-Skin encouraged her in this, telling her how beautiful she was becoming, but at the same time advised her to bend over a little more. Not suspecting treachery, she leaned over; and Red-Skin, who stood directly behind her, pushed the face of the woman into the boiling water and kept it there until life was gone. The dead woman was then fixed up in a sitting posture.

In the hut the deserted wife came across a piece of skin of a bear’s face with the nose on it. She chewed and stretched it to make it cover her whole body, when she looked and felt like a bear. On each of her sides she put a flat rock, and went outside to wait for her husband, who appeared towards evening with a load of game.

“Come out, my lovely one,” he called, “and see how much game I brought.” No one answered; so he called again, “Why don’t you come out as you always do?” He became angry and walked into the hut, where a painful sight stared him in the face. “I know who did it — my other wife. She shall pay for it.” He took his bow and arrows and started for his former home; but when not far from the hut a bear crossed his path. He said, “It was not my wife after all, but this bear who tore the skin from her face. “Taking aim, he shot an arrow at the heart of the bear, but it rebounded on coming in contact with the rock. All the other arrows were wasted the same way without doing the bear any injury. The bear took off the skin, and the hunter recognized his wife.

“That’s the way you treated me,” she cried. “You made believe you were dead, and left me to provide for the children while you were living with another woman.” She abused him until he begged for pardon and mercy and promised to be faithful in the future. His pleadings were, however, to no purpose. She put on her bear-skin, and thus becoming as savage as a bear, she rushed for him and tore him in pieces. With his blood on her, she ran home and destroyed her children in the same savage manner, and then ran away to the woods to live with other bears.

The white-faced bear

An Aleut hunter’s relentless pursuit of bears defies warnings, leading him to confront a fearsome white-faced bear with human origins, cursed by a shaman. Though spared initially, the hunter breaks his promise, joining a hunt against the bear. Recognized despite his disguise, the bear enacts a brutal revenge, destroying the hunter, his allies, and the shaman, before returning to solitude.

Source
A Kadiak Island Story
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 20, No. 79, Oct. – Dec., 1907

► Themes of the story

Revenge and Justice: The transformed bear seeks vengeance against those who wronged him, as well as against a hunter who breaks his promise, illustrating the pursuit of retribution and the restoration of personal justice.

Tragic Flaw: The hunter’s hubris and relentless pursuit of bears, despite warnings, lead to his downfall, demonstrating how personal weaknesses can result in tragedy.

Supernatural Beings: The involvement of a shaman and the transformation of a human into a bear introduce elements of the supernatural, emphasizing interactions with mystical forces.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

Learn more about the Aleut people

In a village there lived a mighty bear-hunter. For three years he had been constantly hunting and had killed so many bears that his friend tried to persuade him to stop, fearing he would get himself into trouble. For, said his friend, if he persisted in hunting one more year he would come across a very large bear who might kill him. The hunter, however, made light of this advice and said that he would attack every bear he came across. A few days later he went out hunting and saw a bear with two cubs. He decided that this could not be the bear of which his friend had spoken and he attacked the mother and, after some difficulty, killed her. The little ones in the mean time ran away.

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On the hunter’s return home, his friend questioned him of the doings of the day, and when told of the adventure, attempted once more to get him to give up hunting, but without success.

Not many days later, while on the way to the hunting-ground, he met a stranger who, in the course of conversation, told him that near his village there were a great many bears. “Many of them,” continued the stranger, “did our hunters kill, but there is one who is invincible, and who has taken the life of many of our men. Each time that he kills a man he tears him, and examines him carefully, as if in search for some marks on the body. He is unlike other bears, in that his head and feet are white.” Here they parted. The stranger continued his way, while the hunter proceeded to the hunting-ground. On his way he stopped near a fish creek, hoping to find game there. He waited all night without seeing any, and in the morning went on farther. First he walked up a high hill, then down until he came to a small bluff. Below was a level tundra on which many bears were to be seen. Not judging it wise to attack so many at once, he concluded to wait until they separated. Among the number he noticed one whose head and feet were white. The words of the stranger then came back to him, and he decided that this must be the dreadful bear of which he had spoken; and so he (the hunter) made up his mind to keep an eye on him, and kill him the first favorable opportunity that offered itself.

The history of the white-faced bear is as follows. At one time he was a human being and a very successful bear-hunter. In fact, too successful for his own good; for he aroused the envy of his friends, who plotted to kill him. They went to a shaman (medicine-man) who lived in the woods and begged him to transform the man into a beast. He advised them to kill the bear and secure the skin up to the joints. This was to be tanned and placed under his pillow, and when he had slept on it he would become a bear. After the skin had been prepared, the shaman with some of the hunters started for the man’s hut, The skin was put under his pillow, then all hid to see the result. In due time he came and went to sleep, but on awaking found himself a bear. The shaman told his companions that the only way to distinguish him from his companions would be by his head and feet, which were white.

Towards evening all the bears that had been on the tundra began to separate except the white-faced bear. He was about the last to move, and, when he did get up, he shook himself three times and acted in every way as if he were deeply enraged. His next move was towards the bluff, where the hunter sat perfectly quiet, hoping he would not be noticed. But the bear approached him, and when face to face asked: — “What are you doing here?”

“I came out to hunt.”

“Is it not enough that you have killed all my family, and just recently you have killed my wife, that you now come to take my life? Had you injured my children the other day, I would now tear you to pieces. I will, however, spare your life this time on the promise that you will hunt bears no more. All the bears you saw to-day are the children of my brothers. Should I ever run across you hunting, I wall tear you to pieces.”

Too glad to get off so easily, the hunter started straight for home, not even hunting on the way. His friend met him and inquired what luck he had, especially, whether he had come across a white-faced bear. When he had replied in the affirmative, the friend cautioned him against attacking. For a whole week the hunter remained at home, and then decided to go again, and begged his friend to go with him, but the latter refused on the plea that he was no bear-hunter and would not know what to do. Six others were, however, persuaded to go along. During two days they hunted at various places without finding anything to kill. On the third day the hunter conducted them to the creek where he had been before, and there they passed the night. In the morning he led them to the bluff, from where many bears were to be seen — but the white-faced bear was not noticeable among them. Thus encouraged the hunter told his companions to follow him. As they advanced one of the men exclaimed,” Look at that strange-looking beast. His face and paws are white.” When the hunter caught sight of him, he ordered his fellows to go back as quietly and as swiftly as they could, as that particular bear had a bad reputation. They went around another mountain where more bears were seen. Here they attacked and killed seven, one for each.

Loaded with their spoil they started homeward. They had advanced but a short distance when they heard a noise behind them, and, on looking around, saw the white-faced bear hurrying after them. As he came closer the hunter aimed, and as he was on the point of shooting his bowstring broke. The others shot, but without producing any effect.

“Why do you shoot at me?” said the bear to the friends of the hunter;

“I never harmed you. This man (pointing to the hunter) has killed my wife and nearly all my family. I warned him that, if I ever found him hunting, I would tear him, and this I shall now do. You may go. I will not harm you.”

Glad to be left alive, the six men hurried away as fast as they could, while the bear turned to the hunter and said: — “You have killed all my family, and I had you in my power and I let you off on the promise that you would never hunt bear any more, and here you are back again. This time I will do to you as you did to mine.”

The man pleaded to be allowed to live one night more, so that he could go home. At first the bear refused, but he finally consented, even to spare his life altogether, if he would tell him who transformed him into a beast. To this the hunter agreed, and it was arranged that on the following evening the two should meet at a certain place and proceed together to the home of the shaman.

On reaching home, the hunter found his six companions there talking excitedly of the day’s events. They were not a little surprised to see him. He told them that he was going back tomorrow, and asked their company. They positively refused, and even attempted to dissuade him from the undertaking; but he kept his word and met the bear at the fish creek as had been previously planned. The two walked a long time until they reached a village in the midst of a forest. A light shone from every barrabara except one, the home of the shaman.

“This is the place,” said the man.

“I will remain here,” ordered the bear, “and you go in and tell him that there is a man outside wishing to speak to him.”

The man set about carrying out the order, but found the skin-door tied; and therefore reported to the bear that the shaman was out. The bear contradicted his statement and sent him back again with instructions to cut the door and walk in. He did so; and on entering heard some one say: “Who is that that dares come in here?”

“It is I,” said the hunter.

“What do you wish?”

“There is a man outside who wishes to speak to you.”

If the shaman had not been sleepy he would have suspected something wrong and would not have gone out, but under the circumstances his mind was not very clear, and he fell into the trap. When the two men came near the bear the old man was very much frightened and was about to withdraw, had not the bear blocked his way, and said: “For a number of years you have tortured me and made my life a burden by keeping me in this condition. I now demand that you give me back my human form immediately, otherwise I shall tear you to pieces.” The shaman promised to do as he was asked if he would follow him into his hut. Before going in the bear told the hunter to meet him in that neighborhood the next day. All night the shaman worked hard with the bear, and by morning succeeded in getting the skin off, so that in place of the bear a human being appeared. The shaman asked for the bear’s skin, which the man gave him, except that of the face and paws, which he cut off and kept. In taking leave, the man-bear told him never to transform any one again for, if he did he would surely come back and kill him.

As agreed upon, the bear-man met the hunter and cautioned him against going out to hunt bear. Among other things he said: “You may hear of people gathering together to hunt and kill me, for I may become a bear once more; but join not with them. If I find you in their company, I shall kill you.”

With this understanding they parted; and for the three or four weeks following the hunter remained at home, apparently intending to keep his promise. But one day he met two young men from a far-off village who had come to beg assistance. They said that about their village there were a great many bears, of whom many had been killed by the hunters. But there was one bear, whose head and feet were white, whom the hunters could not destroy, although all the hunters of the village had attacked him at once. Realizing their helplessness, it was decided to ask aid from the other villages. This bit of news excited the hunter very much. He knew at once who the bear in question was, and was therefore eager to hunt him; yet at the same time fear restrained him from any hasty action. He finally hit on the plan of changing his clothes and painting his face so that his former foe would not know him. In this disguise he arrived at the village, where he saw a great many hunters making ready for the grand hunt. Some were making new bows and arrows, others were repairing the old ones, and all were excitedly talking about the bear. The morning after his coming a large crowd of men, including the hunter, set out on the trail of the bear, whom they found without much difficulty. On seeing them approach, the bear raised himself, then shook himself, his hair stood up straight, giving the impression of great anger. This whole performance he repeated a second time, frightening very much the hunters, who said, “We are all in great danger and cannot escape; but must stay here and fight.”

These actions over, the bear made a jump, stopping before the hunter, whom he accused of perfidy and ungratefulness, tore him in pieces, pawed out a hole and covered him up. The others were terrified more than ever on hearing the bear talk, and at the same time were too excited to do anything. Before they could collect themselves he turned on them, accusing them of attacking him without cause, and proceeded to revenge himself. He chased them back to the village, tearing them up as he went along, not resting until he had them all, including the old shaman. This done he turned back to the woods and fields to rest undisturbed.

The First Sea-Otters

In the village of Igagik, an Aleut girl, dishonored by a young man, seeks revenge by crippling him. Believing her brother died from a hunting accident, she mourns by reanimating him with a song, but they flee together, transforming into otters. Their parents, heartbroken, mourn their loss as their children become sea creatures, giving rise to the sea-otters.

Source
The Songs and Stories of the Aleuts
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 20, No. 77, Apr. – Jun., 1907

► Themes of the story

Revenge and Justice: The sister seeks retribution against the young man who dishonored her.

Resurrection: The sister brings her deceased brother back to life through a ritualistic song and dance.

Origin of Things: The story provides an explanation for the existence of sea otters in Aleutian belief.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

Learn more about the Aleut people

Unga story

On the southern side of Unalaska Island, opposite the village of Chernovsky, there was once a village named Igagik. In that village lived a well known Aleut who had only two children, a son and a daughter. The son, when full grown, was a quick and bold hunter; the daughter, who was just reaching womanhood, was a model in her way. The parents and all other relatives could not rejoice sufficiently on looking on the young people, and considered themselves very fortunate; but a dreadful calamity, never heard of before nor since, befell them, and of a sudden destroyed their happiness. When the girl reached puberty she (according to the custom) was placed in confinement in a small barrabara, and no one besides her servant was allowed to go near her.

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Her brother, about this time, used to go out nearly every night bird hunting.

While yet in seclusion, and at night when the fire was already out, a certain young man commenced to visit the girl, and passionately made illicit proposals; she, fearing to disgrace her relations, would by no means consent. Finally, not being able to obtain his end by fair means, the young man obtained it by force. The girl, dishonored, determined to revenge herself, and she did it in a most cruel and degrading way. When leaving the barrabara (through a hole in the roof) the girl cut the sinews of both his legs right under the knees, and the unhappy youth, moaning, crawled away from there.

The following morning the girl’s parents sent to tell her that her beloved brother, while out hunting on the preceding night, fell on sharp rocks, cutting the sinews of his legs, and died immediately. This terrible news threw the girl for a short time into some kind of a stupor. She then ordered the servant to dress her in her very best clothes, i.e. to put on her the necklace, the bracelets, the earrings, the nose ornaments (made of wood), and to paint her cheeks; then she herself put on her very best parka (trimmed with fur seal and bills of small ducks, etc., and which is sewed like a long shirt without an opening in front) and tore it in front from top to bottom. Dressed in this fashion, she went, followed by her servant, to her father’s house, where her brother lay.

Her brother was really dead, and lay on the floor in the front part of the barrabara, his parents and friends around him weeping and lamenting. Instead of mourning, she began to sing a song in a very joyful strain: “You brother, brother of mine, come get up, get up and look on that on whose account you have deprived yourself of sleep!”

While singing this song she approached the corpse, shaking the folds of her torn parka and uncovering herself. When she had approached her brother in this manner his toes began to move; as she repeated her song and dance a second time the color came into his face; and at the end of the third performance he jumped up and tried to embrace her. She escaped him and ran outside, he after her, and after him his astonished parents and friends. The girl ran in such a way that her reanimated brother could not reach her, neither could his pursuers come up with him. At last, driven to the cliffy beach, and seeing no other way of escape, they threw themselves into the sea.

Their pursuers waited a long time, not taking their eyes off the spot, and, as it were, waiting for them to emerge. After a long time they appeared on the surface and were even alive; not as human beings, however, but as otters, and slowly swam from the shore, one going east, the other west. The broken-hearted parents followed their course with their eyes, crying and saying : —

“You children, our children, was it for this that we nursed and reared you, that you should shame us with your guilt, and that you should become wild beasts! We were hoping that you would support and bring peace and happiness to us,” etc.

In this manner did the parents mourn for their children all their lives; and from that time appeared in the sea sea-otters.

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

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

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.

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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.

Koikoiusa

A young man disobeys his father’s warning and encounters the giant Meechem Aleu, who kills him after a brief conversation. His father, Koikoiusa, tracks down the giant, avenging his son by secretly killing Aleu’s children and later defeating the giant in combat. Despite his victory, Koikoiusa mourns his son’s tragic fate for the rest of his life.

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

Revenge and Justice: Koikoiusa seeks retribution for his son’s death by killing the giant and his children.

Tragic Flaw: The son’s disobedience leads to his untimely death.

Family Dynamics: The story explores the relationship between father and son, highlighting themes of obedience, loss, and mourning.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

Learn more about the Aleut people

Unga story

A certain young man had three sisters, two brothers, a mother, and a father whose name was Koikoiusa. The last-named told this son that he wished him to marry, and that in the spring or summer he would take him to a village to get him a wife. In the mean time he made him a one-hatch bidarka, and from the top of the barabara watched and trained the boy in the handling of it.

Each day’s practice made the boy more proficient, until the father felt that the boy could take care of himself, and gave him permission to go anywhere in the bay that he pleased, so long as he did not go outside of it and around the point.

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Several days later, while the father was in the barabara, the boy decided to go around the point and take a peep and come right back before his father came out. When he had passed the forbidden line, he saw coming towards him a frightfully large bidarka, in which sat a monstrously huge man using the jaw-bones of a whale for paddles.

The boy learned, but too late, why his father told him to keep in sight. This giant’s name was Meechem Aleu. He was chief of a village, and killed every one that passed by there. Meechem Aleu seized the boy’s bidarka, and asked, “Where are you going?” — “Where are you going?” the boy replied boldly. — “I live here.” — “If you have a daughter, take me to her and I will marry her,” said the young man. “Come with me! and if I have a daughter, you shall marry her.” Telling him to take the lead, the giant came behind and drove his spear into the boy’s back, killing him.

Koikoiusa, when he came out of the hut and could nowhere find his son, suspected what had happened. In the evening he put on his kamalayka (shirt made of intestines), got into his bidarka, and went to the village of the giant. Quietly landing and stealthily crawling to the barabara of Meechem Aleu, he listened; and this is what he heard the giant say to his men, “He came towards me; I pulled his bidarka to me and asked him where he was going. He replied by asking me the same question. I told him I lived here. The young fool then asked me if I had a daughter, to take him to her and he would marry her. This made me angry, and I told him to paddle ahead of me to the village, and if I had a daughter he should marry her. When we had gone a short distance, I threw the spear at him, the bidarka turned over, and down he went. The last I saw of him were the white soles of his torbasas (soft seal-skin shoes).”

This account amused the audience a great deal, but Koikoiusa wept bitterly. With his kamalayka he wiped the hot tears away, but they flowed on “until the folds of the kamalayka were full.” A little later he heard the warriors leave Meechem Aleu’s house, and the voice of the giant telling his two boys to go to sleep, but to be on the alert during the night; and if the wind changed, they were to go down to the beach and make fast the bidarkas.

When those inside had retired, Koikoiusa slipped quietly back to his boat, from which he took his sharp stone knife and the spear with the sharp stone point, and sneaked to the giant’s home. They were all asleep, and did not hear him lift the grass mat, or notice him as he crawled through the door. Without waking any one, he went to where the boys slept and cut their heads off, and, tying them together by the hair, hung them right over Meechem Aleu, and went outside to see what would follow. Pretty soon he heard the giant call, “Hi, hi, hi! Wake up, boys! It is raining outside. I feel the drops on my face. Go and tie the bidarkas.” When he had called two or three times and no one answered, he got up and lighted the straw wick in his stone lamp. What he saw made him weep; and between sobs he repeated several times, “Ai-Ai-Yah. Koikoiusa has done this because I killed his boy.”

Koikoiusa, who was listening, heard the words, and answered by coughing three times, which meant a challenge. He went to his bidarka and paddled for home. On the way he fished and caught a very large halibut, and, having selected a favorable spot, he landed and covered the fish with sand. He also sharpened some prongs and antlers which he found, and concealed them near the halibut. Meechem Aleu, whom he expected, soon afterwards made his appearance. When Koikoiusa saw him coming, he pulled off his parka (fur cloak) and stationed himself near the halibut in an attitude of defence. Koikoiusa, though powerful, was so small that he could barely reach to the breast of the giant; but this proved an advantage, for the giant was unable to get a good hold. The little man was quick, and by twisting and pushing he forced the big man to slip on the halibut. He fell with such force that the prongs and antlers penetrated his body, and before he could clear himself Koikoiusa cut his head off. From here Koikoiusa went back to his own village, and during the rest of his life he bewailed the sad fate of his son.

The Woman with One Eye

An Aleut hunter vanished, leaving his two wives in despair. A bird revealed his survival with a new partner, a grotesque one-eyed woman. The wives confronted and killed her, then discovered their husband. Enraged by his betrayal, they drowned him despite his pleas for reconciliation. This cautionary tale warns against deceit and neglect in relationships, emphasizing justice over betrayal.

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

Love and Betrayal: The hunter’s abandonment of his two wives for another woman exemplifies betrayal within a relationship.

Revenge and Justice: The wives’ actions in confronting and ultimately killing both the one-eyed woman and their unfaithful husband highlight themes of retribution and the pursuit of justice for personal wrongs.

Cunning and Deception: The hunter deceives his wives by feigning disappearance or death, while the wives employ cunning to discover his whereabouts and exact their revenge.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

Learn more about the Aleut people

Unga story

An Aleut with his two wives lived in a bay far from other people. Each day the man would go out in his one-hatch bidarka to hunt, leaving the women at their work, and in the evening they would all meet again. One day he departed as usual, but did not return in the evening, and many weeks passed before anything was heard about him. Food and wood were giving out, and the poor women did not know what to do. Worry and anxiety about the fate of their husband made them old and ill; and the only thing that kept them alive was hope, for they could not believe that he was dead. From an eminence near the hut they daily took turns watching for his coming. While one of the women was thus occupied, a bird alighted on an alder-bush, and said:

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“Chick, chickee, chick! Your husband is not drowned. He lives. By yonder point there is a beach, near there a hillock, close to that a barabara in which there is a woman with whom your husband is at present living. Chick, chickee, chick!”

The frightened woman ran quickly to the hut to tell her partner in desertion the news, but the latter would not believe it.

The following day the two went together, and while they sat there the little bird came; and this is what it sang, “Chick, chickee, chick! Your (plural) husband is not dead. He lives. Around the point is a beach, close to it a little hill, alongside of it a barabara in which there is a woman with whom your husband lives. Chick, chickee, chick!” Having said this, it flew away.

Both women felt that the bird had told them the truth, and they decided to find their husband. For several days they walked before they rounded the point where they saw the beach, the hillock, the barabara, and in the distance, out in the bay, a man fishing. They neared the hut very quietly, and, on peeping through a hole, were startled to see an old woman who had in the middle of her forehead one eye very much diseased, giving her a very ugly appearance. One-Eye somehow became aware of the presence of people outside, and called out, “Come in, come in !” The visitors entered and sat down near the fire, over which was boiling a pot of soup, of which they were asked to help themselves. But as no clam-shells with which to dip were offered them, they could not eat. One of the visitors then asked One-Eye who the person was in the bidarka fishing. She replied that it was not a bidarka at all, but a rock which at low tide seemed like a man fishing from a bidarka. She again invited her guests to eat, but they told her that they could not without spoons (clam-shells). The hostess tried to show her visitors how to eat without spoons by bending her head over the pot; but before she finished her illustration, the two women jumped on her and shoved her face into the soup until she was dead. Dressing her in her parka (fur cloak), and taking her to a conspicuous place on the beach, they propped her up into a natural position and left her there.

Towards evening the fisherman pulled for the shore, and, as he came close to the beach, the two women in hiding recognized their long-lost husband. He got out of the boat and went towards One-Eye, and, holding before him a fish, said, *’ Whenever you love me, you come to the beach to greet me.” But as he received no answer, he came to her and put his arms around her, which caused them both to fall over. While he was in this attitude, his two wives jumped out and appeared before him. On seeing them, he made a dash for his boat. They followed, and came up with him just as he was about to paddle away. One seized the bidarka. and the other grabbed the paddle, and said to him, “We thought that you were dead, and we mourned and suffered, while you were here all the time. Now we are going to kill you.” — “Don’t kill me! I will go home with you, and we will live as formerly.” — “No, no! We will kill you.”

Saying this, they pushed the bidarka out until the water reached their necks, and there turned it over and drowned their faithless and cowardly husband.

A Story for Husbands

An Aleut man, passionate about hosting a grand play, was betrayed when his guests abandoned him, taking his wife. Stricken with shame, he sought her, finding her remarried in another village. He publicly humiliated and punished her, later reconciling but abandoning his carefree ways. This cautionary tale warns against neglecting responsibility in relationships and misplacing blame for infidelity.

Source
The Songs and Stories of the Aleuts
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 20, No. 77, Apr. – Jun., 1907

► Themes of the story

Love and Betrayal: The protagonist’s wife abandons him during his grand play, leading to feelings of betrayal.

Revenge and Justice: Upon discovering his wife’s infidelity, the man seeks her out, publicly humiliates, and punishes her, believing he is administering justice.

Tragic Flaw: The man’s excessive passion for hosting plays leads to his neglect of personal relationships, resulting in his wife’s departure.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

Learn more about the Aleut people

There was a certain merry Aleut, who was exceedingly fond of plays (evening gatherings, the usual time and ways of amusing themselves); and when present at such, would masquerade in various masks and dance. One time he decided to give a play (party) such as would astonish and arouse the envy of all. The preparations for this occasion were especially tiresome and of long duration, and when everything was ready he went to the different villages to invite guests. When the guests arrived they, as customary, encamped on the beach in their traveling tents.

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The impatient host could hardly wait till evening, and at the proper time he sent his wife to bring the masks, while he commenced singing the songs which he had composed for this special occasion, and playing on the drum.

It was already late, and still his guests did not come, neither did his wife bring the masks. He waited awhile, and then began singing and playing as before. In this manner he, being heated and in an ecstatic state, sang and played the whole night, entirely by himself. As it began to dawn, he came to himself and realized the situation; and a little later went out in the street, and what does he see? His guests had all gone home; and to his great shame they added the greatest insult in taking his young wife with them. The unfortunate play-lover tore off all the clothes and ornaments which he had on, put on shabby clothing, and for three days he neither ate nor drank. On the third day he was told that two bidarkas came from that village from whence his former guests were. He requested that the new-comers be invited to his house, and after seating them gave orders that they be treated with the best he had. When they commenced eating, he too began eating and drinking. While eating, he told them of his misfortune and grief, and then asked them whether they knew or had heard where they had taken his wife, and to which village. His guests told him that his wife was in their village, and was already married, living in the largest barrabara, situated in the very centre of the village, dressed always in her gala parka, and always painted; and in the middle of each day she sat near the fire sewing for her new husband a kamalayka from sea-lion’s intestines. After thanking his guests for the information he dismissed them.

The following day he went to the village where his wife was, and found her in the very place and situation as his late guests had described to him. At that time all the men from the village were out hunting. He then, not saying a word, seized his wife by her long hair, dragged her outside, tore off her holiday attire, leaving her naked, and in this condition dragged and placed her in his bidarka. Bringing her home, he tied her outside the barrabara, at the entrance, and left her there in the same state (naked). In this condition and position he kept her three days, then pulled her inside and shut her in, in some kind of a storeroom for seven days, and still in the same state, while he himself sat near the entrance. There he sat for seven days without eating and drinking, neither did he appease the hunger and thirst of his wife. At the expiration of that time he went to sea to hunt, but before going he told his mother that in his absence she should wash his wife, dress, and feed her. Returning from the hunt in the evening, he went to his house and met his wife with such a face and expression as if nothing at all had happened, and began to live with her in peace and harmony, as formerly; but his passion for play turned to hate, and he became more careful and thoughtful on account of his wife.

This story is composed for the benefit of those who, being themselves cause of the disobedience and unfaithfulness of their wives, throw the blame on them.

Chief Agitaligak

Agitaligak, a mighty Aleutian chief, sought glory but ignited tragedy. Leading an expedition east, his people settled two villages with a strict pact. Violations sparked vengeance, leading to his son’s death. Agitaligak retaliated, annihilating relatives but plunging into grief. Abandoning his conquests, he returned home in despair, his quest for fame leaving only sorrow and the ruin of his people.

Source
The Songs and Stories of the Aleuts
collected by F.A. Golder
The Journal of American Folklore
Vol. 20, No. 77, Apr. – Jun., 1907

► Themes of the story

Quest: Chief Agitaligak embarks on an expedition to foreign shores, aiming to achieve glory and expand his people’s territory.

Revenge and Justice: Following the violation of a pact and the subsequent killing of his son, Agitaligak seeks vengeance against those responsible, leading to further bloodshed.

Tragic Flaw: Agitaligak’s ambition and desire for glory result in decisions that ultimately bring about personal and communal tragedy.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

Learn more about the Aleut people

One of the mightiest and best known of the Aleutian ancestors by the name of Agitaligak, chief in the village Adus, situated on Unmak Island, tired of the ordinary affairs in his life, which he could carry on near his place and among his people, decided to crown himself and his people with glory by doing some memorable and glorious deed on foreign shores.

Having before him this high aim, he did not disclose his plans until winter, when he asked his hunters to join in the enterprise; and, as he was famous and mighty, a great number of warriors gathered about him.

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At a favorable time, taking their wives and children, they started on their journey towards the east in bidarras (large skin boats). While passing by Unalaska Island, a number of others joined in with them, also far-off relatives of the leader. Towards the end, Chief Agitaligak had the pleasure of seeing himself the leader and head of a large army of warriors and a great fleet, with which he proceeded from Unalaska, keeping along the eastern coast of the Alaskan Peninsula.

Before reaching the island of Kadiak, Agitaligak discovered two large bays, called in his language Kigagik Madgik, and Tugin […], which bays the chief thought favorably situated for villages, and therefore decided to remain there permanently; and, dividing his army in two parts, he designated a bay for each. The newcomers started to built two large villages (the westerly one being the home of Agitaligak) and, finding sufficient means for their maintenance, lived in peace and began to increase. Their occupation consisted mainly in hunting sea and land animals. The two villages had a compact between themselves, the violation of which was punishable by death, that, under no circumstances, except as guests, should the people of one village go to the other. Three years they lived in this manner, never going very far from their homes, and never being attacked nor meeting any unpleasantness from outsiders.

After three years, it happened that the settlers of the eastern village sent two bidarras, with the full number of paddlers, to gather wood within the boundary of the western village (wood could have been got elsewhere), which was the special property of their chief, where he had gathered much wood. These, by coming here, broke the compact and oath with their neighbors (which forbade going on each other’s side), but not only that, they even took the ready-cut wood and cut it to fit their boats; and only because darkness was approaching they decided to remain all night. Not expecting an attack from strangers, nor from their neighbors, who were their relatives, they took no precaution for the night.

Agitaligak, somehow finding out that strangers were in his possessions, sent messengers to learn what they were doing; they came back and reported that the wood, which, according to his orders, had been gathered and prepared, was all cut up and ready to be carried away in strange bidarras. He sent immediately a part of his warriors and ordered them to punish with death the breakers of the oath and thieves. They obeyed his orders, and left not a single man alive.

Chief Agitaligak had a son, Taiyaguch Kayulinach, who was already married, and (according to a primitive Aleutian custom) to a girl from the neighboring village; and as the girl had to stay until a certain time after marriage at the home of her father, and the time to move over to her husband’s home had not yet arrived, Kayulinach could, and when he felt like it did, visit his young wife, and often spent several days with her.

Soon after the above-mentioned happening in the woods, Kayulinach asked his father for permission to go, as formerly, and visit his wife, who was about to make him a father (this event would strengthen the marriage bond and give him the right to take her home). His father, knowing that his action towards his neighbors could not remain unrevenged, would not consent for a long time to his going, fearing that their revenge would be spent on him, his only heir. Finally, unable to withstand the pleadings of his beloved son, Agitaligak let him go, but on the condition that he should return, without fail, within ten days. Should he not return to him within that time, Agitaligak would consider him as dead, killed to avenge his deed.

Kayulinach alone departed immediately. On coming to the village where his wife lived he was met, not as before by all or at least a great part of the village, but by his wife’s three brothers, who informed him that his father’s doings were well known to the people, who were already planning how and by what means to repay him; and they advised him that, if cither to-day or to-morrow he should be called to a public meeting, he should refuse to go; otherwise he could not avoid being killed. Kayulinach did not altogether appreciate their words of warning and advice ; his mind was elsewhere, with his beloved wife who had just given birth to a son (his heir), to whom he hurried. She also told him of the present state of feeling in the village, and begged him not to go; he, however, neglected her advice, thinking that no one would dare to harm him, the son of the mightiest and most renowned chief; and also because he was related to nearly every one in the village through his mother and his wife; but it all ended differently from what he had expected.

The day after Kayulinach came to the village he was invited, as anticipated, to the council, which was held in the open air outside of the village. He, receiving such an invitation, dressed himself without delay in his best parka and hat, etc., and, turning aside from the tearful pleadings of his wife, went where he was called. Coming out of the house into the open air, he stopped, and, turning his eyes in all directions, said: “This world will never darken, and it will never end; this wind will never altogether cease blowing and affect fiercely man and beast: (then looking on the hills and mountains) and also the high beautiful earth will never change; but to all people and all other living creatures will come an end, and all will die; and I too will some day die, and why should I now fear a glorious death!”

Saying this, he went directly to the meeting place, and on reaching there walked right into the midst of them, and sat down in the centre. He was silent for a while, and seeing that no attempt was being made to question him, nor to greet him, he said to them: “Here, I have come to you; why did you call me?”

“We knew,” they said, “that on account of your wife you would come to us; we expected and invited you here for no other purpose than to find out from you about the two bidarras which went from here to your side; have you not heard concerning them? did not one of your people happen to see where they went? If they are yet alive, they should have returned long ago; they had no danger to expect from any one on that side; for it is peopled by you, our relatives. Therefore, tell us the truth, everything that you know concerning them.”

“Yes,” he replied, “I saw your bidarras with the men, and I know what became of them; but you will be dishonored if you revenge so many warriors on me, a poor boy.”

“We neither intend to revenge them on you, nor to harm you; tell us right out whether you saw them killed; tell us the truth.”

He answered them as before. Then all present became angry and ferocious; and one of them, who was formerly a slave of Kayulinach’s father, said: “What is the use of talking with him. and sparing him in your sorrow ? See, he is only making fun of us; we ought to do some thing to him.”

When the slave had spoken, one of Kayulinach’s uncles said to the council, “Do with him what you like.” They all agreed then that he ought to be killed. Every one of the warriors wished for the privilege of executing the sentence, singly and without aid; because Kayulinach (as his name signifies) was a very powerful man, and to kill such a hero was a glorious deed. But they who desired that privilege paid dearly for it. The first rash man did not even come near Kayulinach; for he seized him, lifted him up in the air, twisted his head off, and cast him away. Seven others of his enemies and opponents, each stronger than the former one, shared the same fate. The Aleuts, seeing that if they permitted him to meet them singly he would twist off the head of every one of them, attacked him in a body with their spears; and the slave who first suggested that Kayulinach be killed was the first to thrust a spear through his heart, killing him.

Then the nearest relatives of the dead, i. e. his uncles and cousins, with weeping, took his corpse, and making a rich cradle (a skin-covered frame on which the dead were suspended), trimmed it with various trimmings, put him into it, and hung it under a bidarra. Kayulinach’s wife wept inconsolably for him.

When the ten days within which Kayulinach had promised to return had passed, and he did not appear, his father immediately went in search of him to the village where he had gone. He arrived there in the night, and went to the house of his daughter-in-law, who in the darkness of the night sat and wept bitterly. Chief Agitaligak knew then that the weeping woman was his son’s wife, and, going up to her, began in a low voice to question her: “Is your husband, Taiyaguch Kayulinach, dead?”

She, hearing such a question, and from a stranger, replied: “Did you come to laugh at me, and to add grief to my affliction; did you not see what happened to my husband to-day; were you not then with them?”

“Be quiet, speak low; I am the father of your husband; I came to inquire whether he is yet alive; come show me where the body of my son is.”

The woman led him there where the body of her husband hung; and they both cried there a long time. Finally Agitaligak said to her: “Tell no one that I have been here; I will soon come again and avenge the death of my son with the blood of my relatives.”

Saying this, he directly departed. Arriving home the following morning, he called his nephew (his sister’s son) and all his other people, and sat him (nephew) in front of himself face to face, so near, that when he (Agitaligak) began to speak his saliva flew into the other’s face; and in a very revengeful and savage voice began speaking to him: “Algichtayach! (the name of the nephew) you arc a hunter, eager for war and thirsty for human blood. I have restrained you until now the present time; but now I give you full liberty; revenge the death of your cousin. Your brother and my son was killed in the village of his relatives; prepare yourself to wage war against our own people.” When he had finished, he gave orders to arm and be ready so soon as possible to start on the expedition.

His orders were obeyed, and the frenzied father advanced with his army without delay ; and coming to the village at night, fell on his enemies and relatives, who were not expecting him, attacked them in their barrabaras, and from this large village not a soul was left alive except his daughter-in-law and grandson, whom he took away with him, also the corpse of his son, and returned home.

Arriving home, he made a memorial feast in memory of his son; i. e. he ordered to place before the people all the eatables he had, and all who lived in the village came and ate all they wanted; and the father wept for his son. This memorial feast continued three days, then the chief gave orders that the body should be hung in his house in the same cradle in which he had lain at first; and he requested all the people that from this time forth they should neither beat the drum nor rejoice, in deference of his inconsolable grief. Neither time, nor hunting, nor tears, nor any diversion could lessen or lighten his bitter sorrow. Thinking he would find solace in killing his slaves, he ordered a big fire to be made, and when it was flaming he commenced to throw them in. But this expedient brought him no relief.

At last he decided to depart from his village, and with it leave his cherished aims and plans, i. e. to gain glory on foreign shores, and return to his native land; and the following summer he gathered all his surviving relatives, who were under him, and went back over the same course and to the same place from whence he started on his famous expedition, leaving behind all his valuables, houses, etc.

When he came home, he wept and grieved even more than before, both on account of his affliction and failure.

So, then, instead of achieving a memorable and famous deed and glorifying himself and his people, he only weakened himself, nearly all of his people being dead; and in place of honor and joy, he brought shame, sadness, grief, and tears, which did not leave him until his very end.

A Sea-Otter Story

A man discovers his wife and nephew’s betrayal. In a fit of rage, he kills the boy, giving his head to the woman. Keeping her vow to die with the boy, she flees to a seaside bluff and leaps into the water, transforming into a sea otter. The man watches in despair as two sea otters emerge, leaving him alone.

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 narrative centers on a man’s discovery of his wife and nephew’s betrayal, leading to tragic consequences.

Revenge and Justice: The man’s act of killing his nephew serves as retribution for the betrayal he suffered.

Tragic Love: The wife’s commitment to die with the nephew highlights a sorrowful and doomed aspect of love.

► From the same Region or People

North America
- Arctic Region
  - Aleutian Lore

Learn more about the Aleut people

This story differs but little from the one before it, and was told me by an old Aleut of Belkofsky (Alaska Peninsula). I give all the versions I have of this same story in order to show how it differs from village to village.

In a certain place there lived a man with his wife and nephew. One day the man went away, and on his return learned that the two had dishonored him during his absence. When he went away a second time the woman said to the boy, “I will die when you die.” On his return the man noticed a number of sticks (used as tools) and asked his wife, “Who made these for you?” “Your nephew,” she replied, “made them.” Observing some wooden clamps, he inquired once more, “Who made these for you?” Again she answered, “Your nephew made them.” Then the man began to prepare some roots for eating, and when he had finished he called to his wife and nephew to eat. The boy tried to eat the food, of which he was generally fond, but somehow he could not swallow it. This was so funny that it made the man and woman laugh. The man then upbraided the boy and his wife with their criminal conduct, and ended by cutting the boy’s head off and giving it to the woman.

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She turned to it and said, “I promised that I would die with you and I will.” Putting on her parka, she took the head and started for the bluff close to the sea. The husband, seeing the way she was going, started in pursuit, but she was already on the summit before he could come up to her.

She waited until he was quite close and then turned to the head and repeated, “I said I would die with you and I will.” This said, she threw herself off the bluff and disappeared in the water. The man stood there watching, and very soon he saw emerging two sea-otters who went out to sea.