Tag: 22. Journey to the Otherworld

Travel to realms beyond human experience (paradises, heavens, magical lands)

Urashima

Urashima, a fisherman, is lured by the Daughter of the Deep Sea to her underwater realm. After one night, she returns him with a sealed casket, warning him not to open it. Returning home, he finds centuries have passed, his loved ones gone. In despair, he opens the casket, aging instantly as its smoke escapes. Alone and weary, he dies on the shore.

Source
Japanese Fairy Tales
by Grace James
Macmillan & Co., London, 1912

► Themes of the story

Journey to the Otherworld: Urashima’s voyage to the underwater realm of the Daughter of the Deep Sea represents a classic journey to a mystical and unfamiliar world.

Time and Timelessness: While Urashima spends what seems like a single night in the underwater realm, centuries pass in the human world, highlighting the relative nature of time.

Forbidden Knowledge: The sealed casket given to Urashima comes with a warning not to open it. His eventual decision to do so reveals hidden truths and leads to his demise.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about Japanese Mythology & Folklore

Urashima was a fisherman of the Inland Sea.

Every night he plied his trade. He caught fishes both great and small, being upon the sea through the long hours of darkness. Thus he made his living.

Upon a certain night the moon shone brightly, making plain the paths of the sea. And Urashima kneeled in his boat and dabbled his right hand in the green water.

► Continue reading…

Low he leaned, till his hair lay spread upon the waves, and he paid no heed to his boat that listed or to his trailing fishing-net. He drifted in his boat till he came to a haunted place. And he was neither waking nor sleeping, for the moon made him mad.

Then the Daughter of the Deep Sea arose, and she took the fisherman in her arms, and sank with him, down, down, to her cold sea cave. She laid him upon a sandy bed, and long did she look upon him. She cast her sea spell upon him, and sang her sea songs to him and held his eyes with hers.

He said, “Who are you, lady?”

She told him, “The Daughter of the Deep Sea.”

“Let me go home,” he said; “my little children wait and are tired.”

“Nay, rather stay with me,” she said:

“Urashima,
Thou Fisherman of the Inland Sea,
Thou art beautiful;
Thy long hair is twisted round my heart;
Go not from me,
Only forget thy home.”

“Ah, now,” said the fisherman, “let be, for the dear gods’ sake…. I would go to mine own.”

But she said again:

“Urashima,
Thou Fisherman of the Inland Sea,
I’ll set thy couch with pearl;
I’ll spread thy couch with seaweed and sea flowers;
Thou shalt be King of the Deep Sea,
And we will reign together.”

“Let me go home,” said Urashima; “my little children wait and are tired.”

But she said:

“Urashima:
Thou Fisherman of the Inland Sea,
Never be afraid of the Deep Sea tempest;
We will roll rocks about our cavern doors;
Neither be afraid of the drowned dead;
Thou shalt not die.”

“Ah, now,” said the fisherman, “let be, for the dear gods’ sake…. I would go to mine own.”

“Stay with me this one night.”

“Nay, not one.”

Then the Daughter of the Deep Sea wept, and Urashima saw her tears.

“I will stay with you this one night,” he said.

So after the night was passed, she brought him up to the sand and the seashore.

“Are we near your home?” she said.

He told her, “Within a stone’s throw.”

“Take this,” she said, “in memory of me.” She gave him a casket of mother-of-pearl; it was rainbow-tinted and its clasps were of coral and of jade.

“Do not open it,” she said; “O fisherman, do not open it.” And with that she sank and was no more seen, the Daughter of the Deep Sea.

As for Urashima, he ran beneath the pine trees to come to his dear home. And as he went he laughed for joy. And he tossed up the casket to catch the sun.

“Ah, me,” he said, “the sweet scent of the pines!” So he went calling to his children with a call that he had taught them, like a sea-bird’s note. Soon he said, “Are they yet asleep? It is strange they do not answer me.”

Now when he came to his house he found four lonely walls, moss-grown. Nightshade flourished on the threshold, death lilies by the hearth, dianthus and lady fern. No living soul was there.

“Now what is this?” cried Urashima. “Have I lost my wits? Have I left my eyes in the deep sea?”

He sat down upon the grassy floor and thought long. “The dear gods help me!” he said. “Where is my wife, and where are my little children?”

He went to the village, where he knew the stones in the way, and every tiled and tilted eave was to him most familiar; and here he found folk walking to and fro, going upon their business. But they were all strange to him.

“Good morrow,” they said, “good morrow, wayfarer. Do you tarry in our town?”

He saw children at their play, and often he put his hand beneath their chins to turn their faces up. Alas! he did it all in vain.

“Where are my little children,” he said, “O Lady Kwannon the Merciful? Peradventure the gods know the meaning of all this; it is too much for me.”

When sunset came, his heart was heavy as stone, and he went and stood at the parting of the ways outside the town. As men passed by he pulled them by the sleeve:

“Friend,” he said, “I ask your pardon, did you know a fisherman of this place called Urashima?”

And the men that passed by answered him, “We never heard of such an one.”

There passed by the peasant people from the mountains. Some went a-foot, some rode on patient pack-horses. They went singing their country songs, and they carried baskets of wild strawberries or sheaves of lilies bound upon their backs. And the lilies nodded as they went. Pilgrims passed by, all clad in white, with staves and rice-straw hats, sandals fast bound and gourds of water. Swiftly they went, softly they went, thinking of holy things. And lords and ladies passed by, in brave attire and great array, borne in their gilded kago. The night fell.

“I lose sweet hope,” said Urashima.

But there passed by an old, old man.

“Oh, old, old man,” cried the fisherman, “you have seen many days; know you ought of Urashima? In this place was he born and bred.”

Then the old man said, “There was one of that name, but, sir, that one was drowned long years ago. My grandfather could scarce remember him in the time that I was a little boy. Good stranger, it was many, many years ago.”

Urashima said, “He is dead?”

“No man more dead than he. His sons are dead and their sons are dead. Good even to you, stranger.”

Then Urashima was afraid. But he said, “I must go to the green valley where the dead sleep.” And to the valley he took his way.

He said, “How chill the night wind blows through the grass! The trees shiver and the leaves turn their pale backs to me.”

He said, “Hail, sad moon, that showest me all the quiet graves. Thou art nothing different from the moon of old.”

He said, “Here are my sons’ graves and their sons’ graves. Poor Urashima, there is no man more dead than he. Yet am I lonely among the ghosts….”

“Who will comfort me?” said Urashima.

The night wind sighed and nothing more.

Then he went back to the seashore. “Who will comfort me?” cried Urashima. But the sky was unmoved, and the mountain waves of the sea rolled on.

Urashima said, “There is the casket.” And he took it from his sleeve and opened it. There rose from it a faint white smoke that floated away and out to the far horizon.

“I grow very weary,” said Urashima. In a moment his hair turned as white as snow. He trembled, his body shrank, his eyes grew dim. He that had been so young and lusty swayed and tottered where he stood.

“I am old,” said Urashima.

He made to shut the casket lid, but dropped it, saying, “Nay, the vapour of smoke is gone for ever. What matters it?”

He laid down his length upon the sand and died.

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

How the Tongans Came to Fiji

This tale recounts how the Tonga men came to Fiji. A Samoan fisherman, Lekambai, was swept to the Sky-king’s land, where he was aided by a turtle to return home. After the turtle’s tragic death, its shell was buried deep. Tongans later retrieved the shell but lost a piece, leading them to wander until settling in Fiji, where they worshipped the turtle shell.

Source
Tales from Old Fiji
by Lorimer Fison
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
at the Ballantyne Press
by Alexander Moring Ltd
London, 1904

► Themes of the story

Journey to the Otherworld: Lekambai’s voyage to the Sky-king’s land represents a traversal into a realm beyond the ordinary world.

Cultural Heroes: Lekambai’s experience and the Tongans’ subsequent settlement in Fiji position them as foundational figures influencing societal development.

Sacred Objects: The turtle shell, worshipped by the Tongans in Fiji, serves as a powerful artifact imbued with symbolic significance.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Fijians

by Ratu Taliaitupou, Lord of Naiau

THIS is the account of how the Tonga men came to Fiji. In the old days a Samoan went out in his canoe to fish; and, while he was fishing, a great storm arose, which drove him far out to sea, and came near to swamp his canoe in the waves. Then, when the sun went down, and the land was dark, he said, “Why do I kill myself with baling? It is useless. Let me now sink down in the waters and die.” So he left off baling, and the canoe filled with water; but, just as it was ready to sink, a great wave lifted it and threw it against a rock, to which the man clung, while his canoe floated away till it was dashed to pieces. Then this Samoan, whose name was Lekambai, climbed and climbed up this rock; but still he could find no dwelling-place, nor food, nor drink, excepting that he found, here and there, a little water in the hollows of the rock: so, after climbing many days, he was weak and ready to die.

► Continue reading…

Now was the earth hidden from his sight because of the great height to which he had climbed; and he could see nothing but the sun by day, and the moon and the stars by night, while the clouds lay far beneath his feet: and still, as bending his head backwards he looked up, he could see no end to the great black rock. Yet, however. he went climbing on, higher and ever higher, till in the middle of the night his strength failed him; and, fainting, he fell to the ground.

When his spirit came back to him again he looked up, and saw that he was in a pleasant land, full of trees and sweet-smelling flowers, whereon the sun was shining brightly; but there were no coconut trees, nor could he see any man. Then he began to weep bitterly, as he thought of his home and his friends, and how that he would see them no more.

Now this land to which he had climbed was the Sky; and the Sky-king heard his weeping, and said, “You wretched man there! Why are you weeping?”

“I am weeping, sir,” answered he, “because I am a stranger in a strange land. My country is Samoa, and I know that I shall see it no more for ever.”

Then did the Sky-king pity him, and said, “Weep not, for you shall see your land again, and your wife, and your children, and your friends. See this turtle. Get on its back, and it will carry you safe to Samoa. Only mind this, when it begins to move, do you hide your face in your hands, and look not up again till the turtle crawls ashore. Know now that, if you do not follow my words, a great and terrible evil will befall you. And when you reach your land remember to give the turtle a coconut and a coconut-leaf mat, of the kind called ‘tambakau,’ that we may plant the nut, and learn how to make mats out of its leaves; for we have none in this our country. Go now, the turtle is ready.”

So Lekambai thanked the Sky-king and promised faithfully to remember all his words; then, hiding his face in his hands, he mounted upon the turtle’s back, whereupon it leapt at once with him down into the sea, into which they fell with a great splash, sinking down deep into the midst of the waters, till Lekambai was nearly choked for want of breath; but still he remembered the words of the Sky-king, and kept his hands tight over his eyes.

Then the turtle rose again to the surface, and went swimming swiftly over the waves with Lekambai on its back, covering his eyes with his hands, lest he should look up and die. Many voices sounded in his ears, persuading him to uncover his eyes; but he would not. The sharks called after him, and said, “We are coming! We, the sharks, are coming to eat you!” but still he covered his eyes. The wind howled past him, screaming into his ears, “I am strong! I will blow you off into the sea.” The waves roared, as he went sailing over them, “Yet will we swallow you up,” and the dolphin, more cunning than any other fish, leaped high out of the water close to him, and said, “See! Here comes sailing a canoe from your own land, from Samoa. It is your friends looking for you;” but still Lekambai covered his eyes tightly with his hands, for he feared the words of the Sky-king.

All night they went on swiftly over the waters; and when morning dawned a great bird flew past, crying aloud, “Lekambai! Lekambai! Look up, for Samoa is in sight.” But he would not; and presently his feet struck against the ground, and the turtle crawled up on the beach. Then he looked up and found that he had landed close to his own town; so he leaped to the ground, and ran in amongst his friends, who welcomed him back as one from the dead, weeping over him for joy that he had returned once more — he whom they had mourned, as lost, for so long a time.

So it fell out that he forgot the turtle, thinking of nothing but his wife and his children and his friends who were thronging around, kissing him, and weeping over him, and asking many questions, so that it was long before he thought again of the turtle; and then he remembered the mat and the coconut which he had promised to the Sky-king: whereupon he ran down again to the beach, and found that the turtle was gone, for it had grown tired of waiting and hungry, and had therefore swum off a little way along the reef (as far, perhaps, as from here to Nuku-nuku) to look for some seaweed to eat; and there some of the townsfolk saw it, and speared it, and killed it.

Now Lekambai, when he could not find the turtle, ran along the beach in great fear, looking for it; and when he came to the place where the fishing canoes were at anchor, he found it lying dead upon the beach, while his townsmen were heating an oven wherein to cook it.

Then was he very sorry; great was his grief; and he said, “What is this you have done, my friends? An evil thing, a wretched thing! You have killed my friend — he who brought me hither over the sea. What shall I do? How can I now send my gifts to the Sky-king? lau-e, lau-g! A miserable man am I!” And they wept together.

Then said Lekambai, “Useless now is our weeping. Put out the fire in the oven, and let us dig it deeper down to form a grave, and therein let us bury the turtle that you have killed. Oh, evil day!”

So they dug the grave, digging it deep — very deep, such as had never been dug before; for they were five days digging it, and they had to put down the stem of a tall coconut palm as a ladder whereon they might climb up with the earth from the grave; and at the bottom, on the sixth day, they laid the turtle, burying also therewith a mat and a coconut, which were the gifts asked for by the Sky-king.

Now all this time the Sky-king was wondering that the turtle did not come back again, after carrying Lekambai to Samoa; therefore he sent a sandpiper to see what was the matter; and the sandpiper came by, just as they were covering in the grave. So he swept down amongst the crowd, brushing with his wings the head of a lad called Lavai-pani, and then returned to make his report to the Sky-king.

Now from that time Lavai-pani remained a child. That generation passed away, and the next, and a third, and still he was the same as on the day when the turtle was buried in the deep grave, and when the sandpiper brushed his head with its wings. Little children grew old, and greyheaded, and died; their children also, and their grandchildren passed away, but Lavai-pani was still but a boy: and so, when many years were gone by, the Samoans forgot where the turtle was buried; for he only among them all knew the place of its grave, and he was silent.

Then, in the after days, this tale came to the ears of the King of Tonga; and he said to his people, “Sail now away to Samoa, and bring me the shell of that turtle, that I may make therewith fish hooks, such as our grandfathers formerly employed. Good enough for you are the shells of turtles which we find in our land; but for me, the great King, let there be hooks made from the shell of the turtle which came down from heaven.”

So a big canoe sailed, full of men, and the messenger reported the words of the King to the people of Samoa; but they laughed, and said, “It is an idle tale. Your sailing is in vain. There is not one among us who knows the place where the turtle is buried; and how, then, can we find its shell?” Therefore, the Tongans went back again to their land, and reported this to their King. But, when he heard their report, his rage was great; and he said, “You, O disobedient ones! Loose not your sail from the mast to bring it ashore; but hoist it again at once, and bring me the shell of that turtle. Why should you wish to die?” So they sailed away in sorrow and great fear.

When they came again to Samoa, all the people gathered together, and inquired of the old men as to where was the grave of the turtle which had come down from heaven, but none of them knew. This only they knew — that their fathers had told them how it had brought Lekambai over the waters to their land, but as to its burial-place, not one of them could tell where it was. Then Lavai-pani, the silent one, stood up and said, “Let not your souls be small, ye chiefs from Tonga. I can show you the grave of the turtle, for I was there when it was buried.” But they were angry, and cried out, “What words are these? Have you brought this lad hither to mock us? Here are men whose heads are grey, they can remember nothing about the turtle; and this impudent one — a boy, a child — tells us that he saw it buried. What words perchance are these?”

Then said the Samoans, “We know not whether he be a child or not. He is not one of this generation. When our old men were boys, he was a boy among them; and their fathers said that he was the same in their time also. Let us listen to his words, for never before have we heard him speak.”

When the Tongans heard this, they wondered and were silent; but the boy said, “Come, let us go to the grave of the turtle.” And he took them to the place, saying, “Here was the turtle buried. Dig here, and you will find its shell.”

So they dug till the sun went down, but found nothing; and cried out in anger, “This is a deceiver. He is mocking us. Where, then, is the turtle-shell, that we may take it to our King and live?”

But Lavai-pani laughed, and turned to his people, saying, “See, now, the foolishness of these Tongans! Twice have they sailed hither across the waters from their land to get this shell, and now they have not patience to dig for it. Five days were our fathers in digging this grave, and do you expect to find the shell to-day? Dig four days more, and you will find it.”

So they continued digging, and on the evening of the fifth day they found the shell and the bones of the turtle; and great then was their joy, for they said, “Now we live!”

Then they went sailing back to Tonga, carrying with them the shell. Twelve pieces thereof they gave to the King, but the thirteenth they kept for themselves, hiding it. So the King was angry, and said, “Here are only twelve pieces. Where, then, is the thirteenth? See, here is one piece missing, for the shell is not whole.” And they said, “It is true, sir, that there were thirteen pieces; but the men of Samoa said to us, ‘Take you these twelve to the great chief, your King, and let the thirteenth stay with us.’ But we answered, ‘Not so; we will have all the shell.’ Then were they angry, and said to us, ‘Take your twelve pieces, and go. Why should we kill you? ‘ So we feared, for they were many; and the thirteenth piece is still with them.”

But the King glowed with anger, and cried aloud, “Go back this very day, and bring me the piece you have left behind.”

So they sailed again in great fear; and when they were outside the reef, they said, “What shall we do? We cannot go back to Samoa; and if we return to our own land, the King will kill us; let us, therefore, follow the wind, and perhaps it will take us to some land where we may live. Oh evil day! Why did we hide the thirteenth piece and not give it up to our lord the King?”

So they kept away before the wind which was then blowing, and when it shifted, they did not sheet home their sail, but steered always before the wind; and so it fell out that, after many days, they came to Kandavu near Fiji.

Now, Kandavu was then subject to Rewa, and the King of Rewa took them away, giving them land near his town, where their children dwell at this day. A turtle shell also was the god they worshipped till the “lotu” of the white men spread over all these lands.

And this is how the men of Tonga came down to Fiji.

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

Hiku and Kawelu

Hiku, a demigod raised on Hawaii’s Hualalai mountain, defied his mother’s warnings to explore the plains, where he fell in love with the princess Kawelu. After leaving her, she died of grief. Overcome with guilt, Hiku descended into the netherworld, retrieved her spirit, and revived her through a daring ritual. Reunited, the couple’s love brought joy to their community.

Source
Hawaiian Folk Tales
a collection of native legends
compiled by Thos. G. Thrum
A.C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, 1907

► Themes of the story

Journey to the Otherworld: Hiku’s descent into the netherworld to retrieve Kawelu’s spirit represents a voyage into a realm beyond human experience.

Resurrection: The act of bringing Kawelu back to life after her death exemplifies the theme of returning from death or destruction.

Transformation through Love: The profound impact of Hiku and Kawelu’s love leads to significant changes, culminating in Kawelu’s revival and their reunion.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Hawaiians

by J.S. Emerson

Not far from the summit of Hualalai, on the island of Hawaii, in the cave on the southern side of the ridge, lived Hina and her son, the kupua, or demigod, Hiku. All his life long as a child and a youth, Hiku had lived alone with his mother on this mountain summit, and had never once been permitted to descend to the plains below to see the abodes of men and to learn of their ways. From time to time, his quick ear had caught the sound of the distant hula (drum) and the voices of the merrymakers. Often had he wished to see the fair forms of those who danced and sang in those far-off cocoanut groves. But his mother, more experienced in the ways of the world, had never given her consent.

► Continue reading…

Now, at length, he felt that he was a man, and as the sounds of mirth arose on his ears, again he asked his mother to let him go for himself and mingle with the people on the shore. His mother, seeing that his mind was made up to go, reluctantly gave her consent and warned him not to stay too long, but to return in good time. So, taking in his hand his faithful arrow, Pua Ne, which he always carried, he started off.

This arrow was a sort of talisman, possessed of marvellous powers, among which were the ability to answer his call and by its flight to direct his journey.

Thus he descended over the rough clinker lava and through the groves of koa that cover the southwestern flank of the mountain, until, nearing its base, he stood on a distant hill; and consulting his arrow, he shot it far into the air, watching its bird-like flight until it struck on a distant hill above Kailua. To this hill he rapidly directed his steps, and, picking up his arrow in due time, he again shot it into the air. The second flight landed the arrow near the coast of Holualoa, some six or eight miles south of Kailua. It struck on a barren waste of pahoehoe, or lava rock, beside the waterhole of Waikalai, known also as the Wai a Hiku (Water of Hiku), where to this day all the people of that vicinity go to get their water for man and beast.

Here he quenched his thirst, and nearing the village of Holualoa, again shot the arrow, which, instinct with life, entered the courtyard of the alii or chief, of Kona, and from among the women who were there singled out the fair princess Kawelu, and landed at her feet. Seeing the noble bearing of Hiku as he approached to claim his arrow, she stealthily hid it and challenged him to find it. Then Hiku called to the arrow, “Pua ne! Pua ne!” and the arrow replied, “Ne!” thus revealing its hiding-place.

This exploit with the arrow and the remarkable grace and personal beauty of the young man quite won the heart of the princess, and she was soon possessed by a strong passion for him, and determined to make him her husband.

With her wily arts she detained him for several days at her home, and when at last he was about to start for the mountain, she shut him up in the house and thus detained him by force. But the words of his mother, warning him not to remain too long, came to his mind, and he determined to break away from his prison. So he climbed up to the roof, and removing a portion of the thatch, made his escape.

When his flight was discovered by Kawelu, the infatuated girl was distracted with grief. Refusing to be comforted, she tasted no food, and ere many days had passed was quite dead. Messengers were despatched who brought back the unhappy Hiku, author of all this sorrow. Bitterly he wept over the corpse of his beloved, but it was now too late; the spirit had departed to the nether world, ruled over by Milu. And now, stung by the reproaches of her kindred and friends for his desertion, and urged on by his real love for the fair one, he resolved to attempt the perilous descent into the nether world and, if possible, to bring her spirit back.

With the assistance of her friends, he collected from the mountain slope a great quantity of the kowali, or convolvulus vine. He also prepared a hollow cocoanut shell, splitting it into two closely fitting parts. Then anointing himself with a mixture of rancid cocoanut and kukui oil, which gave him a very strong corpse-like odor, he started with his companions in the well-loaded canoes for a point in the sea where the sky comes down to meet the water.

Arrived at the spot, he directed his comrades to lower him into the abyss called by the Hawaiians the Lua o Milu. Taking with him his cocoanut-shell and seating himself astride of the cross-stick of the swing, or kowali, he was quickly lowered down by the long rope of kowali vines held by his friends in the canoe above.

Soon he entered the great cavern where the shades of the departed were gathered together. As he came among them, their curiosity was aroused to learn who he was. And he heard many remarks, such as “Whew! what an odor this corpse emits!” “He must have been long dead.” He had rather overdone the matter of the rancid oil. Even Milu himself, as he sat on the bank watching the crowd, was completely deceived by the stratagem, for otherwise he never would have permitted this bold descent of a living man into his gloomy abode.

The Hawaiian swing, it should be remarked, unlike ours, has but one rope supporting the cross-stick on which the person is seated. Hiku and his swing attracted considerable attention from the lookers-on. One shade in particular watched him most intently; it was his sweetheart, Kawelu. A mutual recognition took place, and with the permission of Milu she darted up to him and swung with him on the kowali. But even she had to avert her face on account of his corpse-like odor. As they were enjoying together this favorite Hawaiian pastime of lele kowali, by a preconcerted signal the friends above were informed of the success of his ruse and were now rapidly drawing them up. At first she was too much absorbed in the sport to notice this. When at length her attention was aroused by seeing the great distance of those beneath her, like a butterfly she was about to flit away, when the crafty Hiku, who was ever on the alert, clapped the cocoanut-shells together, imprisoning her within them, and was then quickly drawn up to the canoes above.

With their precious burden, they returned to the shores of Holualoa, where Hiku landed and at once repaired to the house where still lay the body of his beloved. Kneeling by its side, he made a hole in the great toe of the left foot, into which with great difficulty he forced the reluctant spirit, and in spite of its desperate struggles he tied up the wound so that it could not escape from the cold, clammy flesh in which it was now imprisoned. Then he began to lomilomi, or rub and chafe the foot, working the spirit further and further up the limb.

Gradually, as the heart was reached, the blood began once more to flow through the body, the chest began gently to heave with the breath of life, and soon the spirit gazed out through the eyes. Kawelu was now restored to consciousness, and seeing her beloved Hiku bending tenderly over her, she opened her lips and said: “How could you be so cruel as to leave me?”

All remembrance of the Lua o Milu and of her meeting him there had disappeared, and she took up the thread of consciousness just where she had left it a few days before at death. Great joy filled the hearts of the people of Holualoa as they welcomed back to their midst the fair Kawelu and the hero, Hiku, from whom she was no more to be separated.

Location of the Lua o Milu

In the myth of Hiku and Kawelu, the entrance to the Lua o Milu is placed out to sea opposite Holualoa and a few miles south of Kailua. But the more usual account of the natives is, that it was situated at the mouth of the great valley of Waipio, in a place called Keoni, where the sands have long since covered up and concealed from view this passage from the upper to the nether world.

Every year, so it is told, the procession of ghosts called by the natives Oio, marches in solemn state down the Mahiki road, and at this point enters the Lua o Milu. A man, recently living in Waimea, of the best reputation for veracity, stated that about thirty or more years ago, he actually saw this ghostly company. He was walking up this road in the evening, when he saw at a distance the Oio appear, and knowing that should they encounter him his death would be inevitable, he discreetly hid himself behind a tree and, trembling with fear, gazed in silence at the dread spectacle. There was Kamehameha, the conqueror, with all his chiefs and warriors in military array, thousands of heroes who had won renown in the olden time. Though all were silent as the grave, they kept perfect step as they marched along, and passing through the woods down to Waipio, disappeared from his view.

In connection with the foregoing, Professor W. D. Alexander kindly contributes the following:

“The valley of Waipio is a place frequently celebrated in the songs and traditions of Hawaii, as having been the abode of Akea and Milu, the first kings of the island….

“Some said that the souls of the departed went to the Po (place of night), and were annihilated or eaten by the gods there. Others said that some went to the regions of Akea and Milu. Akea (Wakea), they said, was the first king of Hawaii. At the expiration of his reign, which terminated with his life at Waipio, where we then were, he descended to a region far below, called Kapapahanaumoku (the island bearing rock or stratum), and founded a kingdom there. Milu, who was his successor, and reigned in Hamakua, descended, when he died, to Akea and shared the government of the place with him. Their land is a place of darkness; their food lizards and butterflies. There are several streams of water, of which they drink, and some said that there were large kahilis and wide-spreading kou trees, beneath which they reclined.”

“They had some very indistinct notion of a future state of happiness and of misery. They said that, after death, the ghost went first to the region of Wakea, the name of their first reputed progenitor, and if it had observed the religious rites and ceremonies, was entertained and allowed to remain there. That was a place of houses, comforts, and pleasures. If the soul had failed to be religious, it found no one there to entertain it, and was forced to take a desperate leap into a place of misery below, called Milu.

“There were several precipices, from the verge of which the unhappy ghosts were supposed to take the leap into the region of woe; three in particular, one at the northern extremity of Hawaii, one at the western termination of Maui, and the third at the northern point of Oahu.”

Near the northwest point of Oahu is a rock called Leina Kauhane, where the souls of the dead descended into Hades. In New Zealand the same term, “Reinga” (the leaping place), is applied to the North Cape. The Marquesans have a similar belief in regard to the northermost island of their group, and apply the same term, “Reinga,” to their Avernus.

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

Goomblegubbon, Beeargaii, and Ouyan

Goomblegubbon the bustard refused to share his grinding stone with his wives, Beeargah and Ouyan. Seeking revenge, they emptied their shared water source, fled with Beeargah’s children, and met two black fellows by a river. The men took them as wives, escaping Goomblegubbon’s pursuit by burning their tracks. Goomblegubbon, unable to cross the river, never saw his family again.

Source
Australian Legendary Tales
collected by Mrs. K. Langloh Parker
London & Melbourne, 1896

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: Beeargah and Ouyan devise a clever plan to escape, including emptying the water source and burning their tracks to prevent Goomblegubbon from following them.

Journey to the Otherworld: The wives’ departure from their home and crossing the river symbolizes a transition into a new phase of life, leaving behind their past.

Loss and Renewal: The story concludes with Goomblegubbon losing his family, while Beeargah and Ouyan find new partners, signifying an end and a new beginning.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Aboriginal Australians

Goomblegubbon the bustard, his two wives, Beeargah the hawk, and Ouyan the curlew, with the two children of Beeargah, had their camps right away in the bush; their only water supply was a small dungle, or gilguy hole. The wives and children camped in one camp, and Goomblegubbon a short distance off in another. One day the wives asked their husband to lend them the dayoorl stone, that they might grind some doonburr to make durrie. But he would not lend it to them, though they asked him several times. They knew he did not want to use it himself, for they saw his durrie on a piece of bark, between two fires, already cooking.

► Continue reading…

They determined to be revenged, so said:

“We will make some water bags of the opossum skins; we will fill them with water, then some day when Goomblegubbon is out hunting we will empty the dungle of water, take the children, and run away! When he returns he will find his wives and children gone and the dungle empty; then he will be sorry that he would not lend us the dayoorl.”

The wives soon caught some opossums, killed and skinned them, plucked all the hair from the skins, saving it to roll into string to make goomillahs, cleaned the skins of all flesh, sewed them up with the sinews, leaving only the neck opening. When finished, they blew into them, filled them with air, tied them up and left them to dry for a few days. When they were dry and ready to be used, they chose a day when Goomblegubbon was away, filled the water bags, emptied the dungle, and started towards the river.

Having travelled for some time, they at length reached the river. They saw two black fellows on the other side, who, when they saw the runaway wives and the two children, swam over to them and asked whence they had come and whither they were going.

“We are running away from our husband Goomblegubbon, who would lend us no dayoorl to grind our doonburr on, and we ran away lest we and our children should starve, for we could not live on meat alone. But whither we are going we know not, except that it must be far away, lest Goomblegubbon follow and kill us.”

The black fellows said they wanted wives, and would each take one, and both care for the children. The women agreed. The black fellows swam back across the river, each taking a child first, and then a woman, for as they came from the back country, where no creeks were, the women could not swim.

Goomblegubbon came back from hunting, and, seeing no wives, called aloud for them, but heard no answer. Then he went to their camp, and found them not. Then turning towards the dungle he saw that it was empty. Then he saw the tracks of his wives and children going towards the river. Great was his anger, and vowing he would kill them when he found them, he picked up his spears and followed their tracks, until he too reached the river. There on the other side he saw a camp, and in it he could see strange black fellows, his wives, and his children. He called aloud for them to cross him over, for he too could not swim. But the sun went down and still they did not answer. He camped where he was that night, and in the morning he saw the camp opposite had been deserted and set fire to; the country all round was burnt so that not even the tracks of the black fellows and his wives could be found, even had he been able to cross the river. And never again did he see or hear of his wives or his children.

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

Sea-wanderers

A group of travelers from a large maritime village embarks on a journey across islands, encountering strange and mystical people. They witness bizarre phenomena, such as one-sided fishermen, people without bodily openings, and villages with cannibalistic practices. After three years, they return home, only to be met with shock and disbelief by their wives, who had thought them lost forever.

Source
Tales of Yukaghir, Lamut, and Russianized Natives of Eastern Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
The American Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Papers, Vol. 20, Part 1
New York, 1918

► Themes of the story

Journey to the Otherworld: The travelers venture into unknown realms, encountering mystical beings and phenomena beyond ordinary human experience.

Mythical Creatures: The narrative includes encounters with beings such as the Polar Fox people, who live underground and possess unique characteristics.

Trials and Tribulations: Throughout their journey, the travelers face various challenges and strange encounters that test their resolve and adaptability.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Yukaghir people

Told by Innocent Korkin, a Russianized Yukaghir man, in the village of Pokhotsk, in the Kolyma country, summer of 1896.

On the seashore, upon an island, stood a village of the Maritime people. The village was very large, the houses were more numerous than the leaves on a tree. Several people began to talk among themselves. “Let us travel, that we may see all the wonders of the sea!” One of them was “a knowing one” [shaman] He knew all kinds of incantations, even the chief incantation of the Zyrian people. These Zyrian people were an ancient heathen tribe, who lived on the seashore.

[The Zyrian tribe is of Finnish origin. The Zyrians live on both sides of the Northern Ural Mountains, along the Pechora River, and also along some tributaries of the Obi River. A confused remembrance of them was brought into northeastern Asia by Russian cossacks and other immigrants, the greater part of whom came from northern European Russia and all along the northern parts of Siberia.]

► Continue reading…

All the other travelers were quite common people. They entered a skin boat and started off. After a long time the winds and the currents carried them toward an island. They landed at a safe place and walked along the shore. It was a broad strip of sand, and higher up was a steep bank of firm ground. On it were the houses of people. They climbed the bank, but the houses had disappeared. The entrances were not to be found. Only a number of willow bushes were scattered about and wherever they stepped, or wherever they put their feet a great clamoring of children came up from underground. The whole bank resounded with the noise of their voices. At last they found an entrance among the roots of a willow bush, and entered a house, which lay entirely underground. The people bade them welcome, and gave them food and drink. These people were Polar Fox people. All of them were quite young and strong. Only one was an aged, decrepit old man who could hardly walk about, even with the help of his long staff. The other people soon went out; but the old man stayed behind, and immediately said to the guests, “O you Christians! [meaning about the same as the English “gentlemen”] if you are such, indeed, do not stay here for a single night, but rather sail away. While walking above, you trod down ever so many Fox children. If you should stay here for a night, they would certainly kill you out of spite and revenge. Take warning and go away in time. So they entered their skin boat and sailed away. They moved on for a long time, and at last they saw another island. On that island was a village and some people were living there. In front of the island, in the sea, stood a tree of gigantic size, full of boughs. These boughs and branches were so close to one another, that not even a finger could be thrust in between them; and in the middle of the trunk there was an excrescence, ever so large. They stopped their skin boat and gazed at the new wonder. The tree stood bolt upright; then all at once it bowed down lower and lower, and at last was immersed in the water, boughs, excrescence, and all — and vanished from sight. Then they saw on shore a number of people, all one-sided, running to and fro, and catching fish. They were just like ordinary men split in two. The two halves would meet and stick together and would become whole men. Then they would part again, and each half would race along the shore so swiftly that it would outrun a flying bird. These halves of men were catching fish in the following manner. They spread their fingers, ran down into the water and vanished in the sea. After a while they came back on a run and to every finger a fish was hanging. They caught the fish with their fingers. After that the big tree would also emerge from the water, bough after bough, and stand straight up again, as before; but it would be thoroughly white from the mass of fish on it. Every little bough would have a fat fish hanging on it. The tree stood up and trembled, as if alive; and then all the fish were swung up to the excrescence, when they vanished.

The voyagers gazed upon these wonders, but, being afraid of the one-sided people, they did not land there, but sailed by. After a while they were carried off to still another island. They landed there, and walked along the shore. A village stood there, with numerous houses. They approached, and saw near the village, down the steep bank, a great mass of food lying in heaps higher than a man’s stature. It was mostly meat of wild reindeer. The people had neither anus nor urethra. They killed many wild reindeer. Then they cooked the meat in huge iron kettles. When it was done, they put the kettle under their bare armpits and kept it there for a while. They lived on the steam they inhaled through their armpits. After that they would turn the kettles over and throw all the meat down the bank. The voyagers felt very hungry, and wanted to eat of this strange refuse; but all of a sudden there came from the houses men with long staffs, who shouted to them, “Don’t touch that meat! It is bad. Rather come here! We will give you good meat, we will feed you with clean provisions. That is offal!” They entered the nearest house. The people of the island gave them the choicest meat and dried fat and brought in large bladders filled with pure oil. They ate heartily.

An old man was sitting opposite them, and was all the time attentively watching their doings. “Ah!” said he, “so this is your manner of eating! It seems you relish it.” The “knowing one,” the man with incantations, wanted him to do the same. “Do try and have a morsel!” “I wish I could!” said the old man; “But you see yourself, with your own eyes that we have neither anus nor urethra. What, then, would become of, me?” The other one, however, did not desist. “Ah, father! Do take a morsel! I will arrange that you may enjoy it without danger.” “Ah!” said the old man, “I have lived long enough; so let me try it once, though I die from it!” He took a small bit and swallowed it. “Ah! it is sweet.” He took another piece, and by and by had eaten a large and hearty meal, in the manner of human beings. In due time, however, he felt uncomfortable, and shouted, “My buttocks prick me, my buttocks prick me!” Tears started from his eyes from pain. The man with incantations took a splinter of drift larch-wood and made it round and sharp-pointed. He pronounced several incantations over it, and then thrust it through the old man’s breeches, thus making an anus for him. In a similar manner he made for him also a urethra. At the same moment the old man eased himself in both way and became like an ordinary man. But the others were without openings, as before.

The next morning, however, the visitors were requested to furnish the hole population with anus and urethra, for which they were paid generously with costly fur. Till then they had traveled among all these wonders and terrors without any provisions, but from here they took along plenty of dried meat.

They sailed on, and reached another island. A single house, quite large, stood on the bank. In it lived an old man and his wife. Before the entrance a big brown bear was tied to a post. It was their watch-dog. Close to the house stood two racks of drying poles filled with human flesh. There were shoulders along with arms and hands in one piece; and the fingers glistened with rings, gold and silver. The heads were ornamented with earrings, and the legs with feet booted in leather and chamois. The travelers were much afraid, but they did not dare to say anything. The old man said to his wife, “Bring some cloud-berries for our guests.” So she brought a dish full of rosy finger tips of women and children, cut off with great care. These finger tips, indeed, looked like so many berries. The “knowing one” said to his companions. “Do not eat this food. Hide it in the bosom of your clothes.” They were all clad in fur shirts, and girt around with large girdles of many-colored stuff, as is the custom with our people. So they did as they were told, and after the meal they went out of the house as if to ease themselves. They loosened their girdles, and all these awful finger tips glided down to the ground. They went back. The old woman was already preparing beds for them. “These places are for you, and these also. Lie down and have your rest.” They went out again; and the “knowing one” said, “We cannot stay here. The only way to do is the following. We will return, and I shall take my pipe and have a short smoke. That done, I shall knock the glowing ashes out of the bowl. Then all at once I shall howl like a wolf. You must be careful and hold on to me at that very moment. I shall rush out and take you along.”

He had a smoke, and knocked the glowing ashes out of the pipe bowl. Then all at once he howled like a wolf. The bear in front of the door fell down at once and snored loudly. The old man and the old woman within F the house fell asleep and slept like logs. The visitors went out and found the skin boat.

They gave up journeying farther, and turned homeward. On the return journey, they made almost no landings, but sailed steadily on. They revisited only those people whose intestines they had provided with openings, and obtained from them more provisions for the last part of their journey. They were traveling, not for a single year, nor for two years, but for three complete years, of twelve months each. All of them had wives at home, some of whom had been left with child. These women had had time to give birth to their children, and the children were already toddling about and babbling lustily, though not very intelligibly. So they came home. Their wives were told by neighbors, “Come out! Your husbands have come back!” They almost lost their senses for joy, because they had believed that their husbands were dead and gone. As soon as the men came into the house, the women glanced at them and swooned. They remained unconscious for many hours, and could hardly be restored. After that they lived with their husbands exactly as they had in former times.

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 one without arms

Born armless to a tiny Fish-Woman, a supernatural being named Armless demonstrates extraordinary powers through miraculous abilities. He mysteriously travels at incredible speeds, kills numerous people without moving, defeats strong warriors through supernatural means, and ultimately transforms his pursuers into guillemots by a clever ruse, escaping with his companions and continuing their journey home triumphantly.

Source
The Jessup North Pacific Expedition
edited by Franz Boas
Memoir of the American Museum
of Natural History – New York
Volume VIII
3. The Eskimo of Siberia
by Waldemar Bogoras
Leiden & New York, 1913

► Themes of the story

Supernatural Beings: The protagonist is a supernatural entity born from a Fish-Woman, exhibiting extraordinary abilities.

Cunning and Deception: He uses cleverness to outwit and escape his adversaries.

Journey to the Otherworld: His mysterious travels and encounters suggest a venture into realms beyond the ordinary.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Yupik peoples

Told by Nipe’wgi, an Asiatic Eskimo man, in the village of Uni’sak, at Indian Point, May, 1901.

A man who had no food lived by angling. One time he went to the sea to catch some vakhna fish. He threw his fish-line into the water and drew out a small Fish-Woman no longer than a finger. He was much frightened.

“Oh,” said he, “it is something evil! I will throw it back into the water.” — “Do not throw me back!” said Fish-Woman, “rather take me for your wife!” — “How can I take you for my wife, when you are so small?” — “That is all right. Take me for your wife!”

He married her; and they lay down on the snow and slept together, although she was so small. Immediately she was with child, and early in the morning she bore a son. He had neither arms nor legs. Then the mother jumped into the water and was gone.

► Continue reading…

The father took his little son and carried him home. He had also a human wife, and even a companion in marriage. The latter felt aversion against the One-without-Arms. He considered him to forebode evil. Therefore he left the settlement and emigrated in a boat to the opposite shore.

A rich man living on that shore heard about Armless, and became interested. He sent for him, because he wished to see him. “Go and bring me my bag of peltries.” They brought the bag. He drew out a fox-skin. “There!” said he, “give that to his father, and say, ‘The man on the other shore wants to see Armless.’” The messenger reached their house, and, without entering, thrust his head into the sleeping-room and said, “There is a fox-skin for you. A man living on the other shore wishes to see Armless.” The father said, “No!” The messenger, without entering their house, returned home, and reported to the rich man that they did not want to let him go.

The rich man was astonished. So he said again, “Bring me my bag of peltries.” They brought it, and he drew out of it an otter-skin nearly a fathom long, and quite black. “There! give that to them, and say, ‘The man living on the other shore wants to see Armless.’” The father again refused; but Armless said, “Why do you refuse to send me there, since he is interested in seeing me? I want to go.” — “All right!” They got a large boat ready and paddled on.

While on the way, Armless said, “I will go and carry the news to my old mother.” He jumped on the gunwale, and then into the water just like a seal. They paddled along. At last the cliffs of the other shore were visible. Then a voice called to them from a ledge of rock, “Oh, you are slow! I had to wait for you ever so long.” It was Armless. One could not understand how he had reached there in so short a time. But he was sitting on the rock and a small piece of edible seaweed was in his mouth.

They came to the village Nui’ak. The shore was quite black with dense crowds of men. As soon as they came ashore, scores of men took hold of the boat and hauled it ashore, — men and load and all. Then they took Armless and carried him into the house. All the people followed. The house was full, because everybody wanted to sea Armless. The people were crowded close together, and several were trampled to death. They just threw the dead out of the house, and continued to jostle and to push one another. So he killed a great number of people without as much as moving one finger.

The Strong Man of the village heard about it, and grew angry. He said, “Bring me Armless! I will kill him too! Why has he destroyed such a large number of people?” They brought Armless there; and the other one said, “I want to kill you. Let us have a wrestling-match.” — “But how can I wrestle with you, since I have neither arms nor legs?” — “Oh, but you were able to kill many unoffending people!” — “Ah, then, all right! We will wrestle, but you must bring a knife with you.” The Strong Man took a knife and stepped forward. Then Armless sprang high upward; he spun around in the air so rapidly that it was impossible to follow his movements with the eyes. Then he dropped down; and at that moment the Strong Man of Nui’ak also fell down dead, the knife in his heart.

All the people were frightened. Armless set off in his boat, and reached St. Lawrence Island. In the village lived another Strong Man. Armless and his people were still on the water when this Strong Man challenged him to a shooting-match. They prepared for it. The man of St. Lawrence drew his bow and shot at Armless, who jumped upward, so that the arrow passed under his feet. The second time and the third time the same happened. “Now it is my turn,” said Armless. He jumped upward, and spun around in the air so rapidly that the eye could not follow his movement. Then he dropped down; and his antagonist also fell down, the arrow in his heart.

The people of St. Lawrence grew angry. “Do not give them food, let them be starved to death!” They broke their boat, so that the visitors had no means of getting away. “Now we shall starve them to death.”

Armless ordered his companion to prepare a large bucket of bent pine-wood. He made them sit down in a row upon the seashore, and each of them had in his hand a piece of the bill of a guillemot. He gave a signal, and all his companions threw the guillemot-bills into the water and cried out like guillemots. Immediately the people of St. Lawrence also cried out like guillemots, and rushed into the sea. The pieces of bills stuck firmly to their noses. They turned into guillemots. The bucket turned into a boat, and Armless and his companions paddled on, singing, and on their way homeward they hunted guillemots with great success.

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 Reindeer-Breeder and the Ai’wan

A reindeer-breeding family’s youngest daughter is mistreated by her Ai’wan in-laws after they slaughter her herd. Guided by the Upper Being, she journeys through a magical winter landscape, reunites with her family, and ultimately seeks revenge. Her husband, who was swallowed by a whale, is gruesomely executed by her and her sisters for his past violence.

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

Conflict with Authority: The young woman faces mistreatment from her in-laws, who exert power over her after slaughtering her reindeer herd.

Journey to the Otherworld: Guided by the Upper Being, she embarks on a journey through a magical winter landscape, symbolizing a venture into a realm beyond the ordinary.

Revenge and Justice: She ultimately seeks retribution for the wrongs committed against her, culminating in the execution of her husband and his family.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chukchee people

Told by Viye’nto the Blind, a Maritime Chukchee man, at Mariinsky Post, October, 1900.

A wealthy reindeer-breeder lived on the seashore. He had no sons, but four daughters, who kept watch over the herd. He had two large herds, and two daughters as herdsmen in each herd. Nearest to him lived an Ai’wan, in a permanent settlement, — a wicked old man, a doer of violence, — because he had five sons. He said to his eldest son, “Go and ask for one of the girls in marriage; and if they refuse, we will take one of their herds.” After a while he himself went over to his reindeer-breeding neighbor, and spoke thus:

“Well, then, we are neighbors. For quite a long time we have talked to each other. You get your food from your herd, your source of life, and I get mine from man’s exertions.” — “Yes, that is so!” says the reindeer-breeder. “Would it not, then, be better for us to join forces? You could give over one of your sources of life to your daughter, and keep the other one for yourself.”

► Continue reading…

“All right! I consent.” — “You could wander with the reindeer, and some of us would help you. And the others would also stay on the seashore, subsisting on sea-meat. My eldest son and I — we should wander inland along with you, and for the summer-time we should come back to the seashore. If we feel dull, we might visit each other, tasting new food in common.” — “All right!” said the reindeer-breeder.

He listened to the Ai’wan’s words, and consented to act according to his offer. Therefore he gave his youngest daughter in marriage to the Ai’wan’s son, along with one herd. Spring came. The reindeer-breeder went away, and the son-in-law remained behind. Then the snow melted, and summer came. The son of the Ai’wan says, “A reindeer-herd is a bad thing. I do not want it. I can live by hunting, killing walrus and whale. Hunting is a joyful pursuit.” Therefore with the first snow he wanted to visit the village, and went there, taking the herd along. When he was near the village, he cried, “Oh, tie up the dogs. The herd is coming!” Then the herd also, that was a little behind, came to the village. He said, “Let us slaughter the whole herd! I do not want it. Slaughter the driving-reindeer while still in harness! Let us eat meat!” They began slaughtering. The driving-reindeer were stabbed while still in harness. The ground grew all red with blood. At last they had enough, and cried, “Give a part of this meat to the poor, to those who are starving!”

The woman was sorrowful on account of the herd. Her sisters-in-law took her handsome clothes made of spotted fawn-skins from her. These clothes they put on themselves, and had her clothed in old bad hairless seal-skin. At last she could not suffer it any longer, and left the village by night, taking with her a single reindeer, one of her own driving-team, — a single one, that had escaped being butchered. She led it along behind her, having no sledge to drive. It was midwinter, cold and dreary. Travelling was hard, and the snow heavy. Dawn came, and the sun rose. It grew light around her, though the walking was not easier than before. She moved on, leading her reindeer, and plodding through the snow; but in reality she was ascending skywards along a ray of light, because the Upper Being, the Being of the Reindeer people, saw her and knew all about her. His compassion toward the reindeer was very great, because they were slaughtered; and it was his intention to cheer her up after her loss. So she was walking upon the ground under the thick-falling snow, but was moving skyward, though she did not notice it. She was tired and cold, since food there was none, and her clothes were very poor. At last the reindeer spoke in human language. It exclaimed, “Halloo!” She answered, “Halloo!” — “You are quite tired. Mount, at least, upon my back! I will carry you a little onward. I feel sorry for you.” She mounted the reindeer, and after a while felt still colder, and also more fatigued and hungry. The reindeer stopped, and scraped the snow with its hoof, as if preparing a place for camping: Then it says, “Halloo!” She answers, “Halloo!” — “At least, eat something! and you will be warmer.” She looked down, and saw upon the snow a round place scraped bare. There upon the ground lay something like boiled meat. She ate of it, and felt warm. Then she looked ahead of her, and saw a reindeer-herd. Looking still more attentively, she recognized the reindeer. They were those of her father. Some spotted ones she recognized as her own reindeer. All these were the sacrificed reindeer, those given away, which after that became the reindeer of the Upper Being. Then at last she said, “Whose reindeer are these? They look like the reindeer of my father, but whose camp may this be?” And this was the camp of the Upper Being, of the Deity of the Reindeer people. The Old Being is in his house. His appearance is different from that of men. He has ears on his temples, a big nose, and a broad mouth across his whole face. He says to his daughter, “What kind of a woman is staying there on the outskirts of our camp? Why does she not come over here and enter? Who knows? Perhaps it is the same poor thing whose herd was slaughtered of late by the Ai’wanat, the sedentary dwellers. I saw how the ground grew red with blood. This was a great pity. Go and call her to come along.” The daughter of the Upper Being came to the woman, and said, “Friend, why do you not come to the house? Father bade me call you there.”

“Well, well! we are entering,” cried the girl. The Upper Being looked upon the woman and waved his hand. Even a tear rose to his eye. “Oh, then it is really you! Your poor herd! — But why did your father, being a reindeer-breeder, listen to the words of a sedentary Ai’wan? Oh, how badly they acted toward you!” He drew from the floor near his seat a big stopper. A round hole was revealed in the floor. “Here! look down!” She looked down, and there was her father’s house. He made her descend through that hole. She walked along, leading her single reindeer. The reindeer spoke again, and said, “When you arrive home, do not accept anointing with blood from their reindeer. Anoint yourself from your own reindeer!” They reached the camp early in the morning. The people in the tents were still sleeping. She sat upon a sledge. She sang aloud, but did not enter the tent. Her mother awoke. “Oh, oh! Why is it that the herdsmen in the herd are so heedless? They yell their songs so loudly, that even here in the camp we cannot sleep.” Then she said to a second daughter, “Go out and see what it is! Why are they singing the tunes of that one, the deceased one?” For the Ai’wanat have said that she is dead. At the first meeting they declared that she was gone, and, besides, had taken all the herd. They said that the herd was visited by lameness, became greatly reduced, and then was gone altogether, even to the last reindeer. The daughter went out and looked on. “Who are you, sitting here, clad in old seal-skin? Where do you come from?” — “Where do I come from! After you gave me away to the Ai’wanat, you soon forgot me. You have not even thought of paying me a visit: so I have come to you on a visit.” And really how could they have visited her, since the Ai’wanat declared that she was dead? The girl rushed back into the sleeping-room. “Oh,” says she, “she is here!” As soon as the father heard it, he jumped out quite naked. “Oh, oh, here you are!” They were quite glad, and laughed all the time. She said, “Do not bring the herd for the anointing-sacrifice. I will anoint from my own reindeer.” So they lived on.

In the mean time her recent husband, the Ai’wan, the old man’s son, the violence-doer, the slaughterer of reindeer, wanted to visit an island in the bay. He said, “I will go by canoe, taking my long harpoon with me, and maybe I shall land there and stay there for a while.” He paddled off, and on the way saw a whale, a very big one. He was going to throw his harpoon at the whale; but the whale drew a breath and pulled him in, and he was soon in the whale’s inside, in complete darkness. Oh, it is bad there! He hardly keeps alive, slicing the whale’s intestines with his knife, and eating them raw. He defecates also. The bowels of the whale are all covered with filth. The whale rushes from place to place. It is suffering acute pain. Its interior is being cut up. At last the whale died. The wind bore it away to the open sea. It was carried to and fro all the way around the land where live the Ai’wanat, and then it was stranded on the very shore where that reindeer-breeder took up his abode. Then the Ai’wan cut through one of the whale’s sides with his knife, and at last got out of it. He looked before him and recognized the houses. “Well,” says he in his mind, “what will they do to me when she is dead? Anyway, I am now on firm ground.” He walked to the tents. Then he said to the old man, “I was swallowed by a whale, and now I have landed here. I said before, ‘At least, here are some strangers’ houses, and these are our houses.’ What though she was struck down by disease and then died, and even took along the herd with her, and it has been reduced by lameness and then destroyed! Notwithstanding all this, I am still yours, as before.”

The old man said, “All right! Come in!” He entered the house. The woman concealed herself for a while. They had a meal. All at once the woman appeared. “Here you are, you violence-doer! You slaughtered all my herd quite wantonly. I shall also try to do violence.” They caught him, the women only, tore the clothes from his back, pinioned him. Then they cut off all the flesh from his bones, slice by slice. He was still alive. Gradually he lost his force, and died.

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

A story about a polygamist

A polygamist tricks his wives, encounters supernatural ke’let beings, and narrowly escapes their deadly schemes. After being pursued and nearly married to a ke’le-woman, he outsmarts her murderous mother, killing both with cunning. He flees, feeding their remains to captive bears. Returning to human hosts, he declares a change in human paths before dying of old age, embodying resilience and transformation.

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

Trickster: The protagonist employs deceit and cunning, both in his interactions with his wives and in his encounters with the ke’let.

Transformation: The protagonist undergoes significant changes, both in his circumstances and in his understanding of human paths, embodying personal transformation.

Journey to the Otherworld: The protagonist ventures into realms inhabited by supernatural beings, representing a journey beyond the ordinary human experience.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chukchee people

Told by Qo’tirgin, a Maritime Chukchee man, in the village of Mi’s-qan, November, 1900.

Once (there lived) a polygamist. He said to his wives, “One (of you) have a fur shirt made, and the other have some trousers made, and let them be all white.” They finished the clothes, and all of them went out. The moon was on the wane. Then (the polygamist) ran away. His wives looked on. He crouched down and made himself flat right before them. Then they looked for him, but could not find him. They entered the house. He departed towards the east [windward], and saw a number of ke’let. One of them, just as he was coming, began to angle for fish with a rod. Very soon he pulled out a little infant. It was a human infant. He pulled it out. The infant cried, “Ana’, ana’, ana’!”

The man coughed. The ke’le said, “Oh, oh, a guest!” — “Yes!” — “Let us go home!” — “You go first,” the ke’le said to the man. “How can I go first? I do not know (the way). The house-masters (should) go first.” — “Oh, oh, all right!”

► Continue reading…

The ke’le went first. They came to the house. “Go in!” — “We in our houses are wont to say to our wives, ‘Spread good skins for bedding. A guest is here.’”

“Ah, well, all right!” The ke’le entered the house. “Oh, I bring this one! Sharpen your butcher-knives!” Meanwhile the man fled, running to a corner of the house — the one clad in white.

The ke’le came out, but (the man) was not to be seen. He made himself flat there (upon the ground). The ke’le began to chide his wife: “Oh, this is bad! We have let our quarry go, very good game.” The other one again departed. Again he found a settlement. This one was of real human people.

One man came out. He stopped close by him, but the other one could not see him at all. That one passed water, and then said, “The moon is on the wane.” The guest then said, “It is quite true.” — “Oh, oh, a guest?” — “Yes!” — “Indeed, you are human?” — “Oh, yes! Rather it is you who are not human. You are the ke’let.” — “In truth, we are not.” — “Oh, then let us enter the house!”

“But we have neighbors who indeed are ke’let, and these ke’let will fetch you to their own house.” They entered the sleeping-room. Before they had time to eat, a ke’le-woman entered. “Oh, I have come to fetch you! You must marry me.” He went out. She took him to her home. On the sides of the entrance a brown bear and a polar bear were tied up. Before they could enter, the monsters rushed at the man. The ke’le-woman said to them, “Aha! it is the master.”

They lay down and copulated. All at once an old woman appeared from the rear wall. She carried a butcher-knife. This was the mother of the ke’le-woman. This old woman approached the man, carrying the butcher-knife.

She wanted to strike him on the head. He simulated sleep. Still she proved to be quite nimble, and fled again. He (simulated awakening), said to the ke’le-woman, “Oh, I had a dream! Such an old woman (it was), who nearly killed me!” The woman said, “Oh, oh! again, again! What are you doing? I want to have this one for a husband.”

They slept again. The ke’le-woman slept quite soundly. Then the man laid her down and exchanged clothes with her. The woman’s combination-suit he used for a covering for himself, and his own fur shirt he put on her as a covering. Then he slept again, simulated sleep. He had a knife ready. The old woman appeared again from the rear wall, and all at once she rushed on her daughter and struck her, sleeping, (with such force) that the head was cut off.

Just then the man struck the old woman with his knife, and also cut off her head. He put on his clothes, and then went out, carrying both heads with him. These he threw down to the bears. They pounced upon them. At that moment he went out. He came to his recent host. “Oh, you have come!” — “Yes.” Then the old man called out, “Oh, oh, oh! from this time the people shall go around in a different manner.” Then he departed, and on the way died of old age.

That is all.

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 Youth who received Supernatural Powers from the Ke´let

A sick son attracts malevolent spirits (Re’kken) who consume him but restore his life, granting him shamanistic powers. As he gains strength and a wife, he faces betrayal, death, and supernatural challenges. After escaping his enemies with his wife, they ascend to the upper world, where they live until old age, leaving behind legacies intertwined with cosmic forces and spiritual beliefs.

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

Resurrection: The youth experiences death at the hands of the spirits and is subsequently brought back to life, highlighting themes of mortality and rebirth.

Love and Betrayal: After gaining a wife, the youth faces betrayal by others who covet her, leading to his death and subsequent supernatural challenges.

Journey to the Otherworld: The tale concludes with the youth and his wife ascending to the upper world, indicating a transition to a different realm of existence.

► From the same Region or People

Learn more about the Chukchee people

Told by Ri’nto, a Maritime Chukchee man, at Mariinsky Post, in October, 1900.

Once upon a time there was another man who lived in a single house. There were only three of them. The son was suffering, so the parents (even) could not sleep. A strong gale was blowing. Notwithstanding (the noise), they heard the clattering of sledge-runners. The man’s wife looked out into the darkness and saw the visitors. They were Re’kken [evil spirit]. She said, “Oh, they are coming down upon us! Their reindeer were breathing fire. They came and entered the house. The suffering one immediately even ceased to moan.

“Oh, we come for provisions. Oh, dear! with what are you going to treat us?” — “Oh, with thong-seal meat.” — “We are not used to it. Oh, with what are you going to treat us?” — “With ring-seal meat.” — “We do not eat such things.” They pointed at the direction of the suffering one. “We want that one.” — “Indeed, there is nothing there.”

► Continue reading…

Then one of them entered the sleeping-room, caught the suffering one by the ankle and carried him out. As soon as they had caught him, they only did thus with their mouths, why! And only his bones were left. His little mother cried. Then one of the (re’kken) took off his overcoat, picked up the bones and put them into the overcoat. The ke’let did so with the bones of that man.

Then they went out and said, “We are going away, watch us.” The old woman watched them when they were going to their sledges. They came to the sledges and emptied the overcoat, flinging its contents in the direction of the house. And there was that one just now eaten by them. They restored him, the suffering one, to life. He came to the house, quite naked. And he had acquired great shamanistic power. He entered the house naked.

He seemed to be out of his wits. All at once he would strike his own body with a bowlder, and the bowlder would crumble to a mere nothing. From every settlement in the neighborhood there came inquisitive people. They wanted to kill him, and all at once they struck him with a spear. But his body was as hard as stone. And they could not do anything.

After a while he married. His wife was very pretty. So the other people, the wrong-doers, felt a desire to have this woman. They took this shaman and carried him to the (open) country. There they strangled him, and he was killed. They took his wife and went with her to the house. Then they saw the one whom they had just killed sitting in the house, as before. “Oh, again! Oh, dear! What shall we do?” The woman was too pretty.

So they dug a cellar, filled it with insects, [mere] hairy grubs. These grubs soon became quite large in size. Then they called him. (He said to the woman,) “Oh, but now I must give up the struggle. Now they will take you for good. But you must remember to dig the ground in the cellar.” They pushed him into the cellar. The grubs caught him and consumed him. Then (his enemies) took the Woman.

As soon as night came, she went away quietly and followed a trail. This was the working-trail of her husband. She followed the trail, and found the duodenum of a reindeer hanging on a bush. She stopped there and made a fire. After that she departed again and felt thirsty. She saw a river quite filled with grubs, so she did not drink from that river. After a while she saw a lake. It was full of fish, but from this lake she could take a drink. At last she found her husband. He was standing outside a house, and was working at something. He said to her, “You have come?”

Meanwhile he had married also among the ke’let. The other wife said to her, “Put on my combination-suit!” But her husband said, “Do not put it on, you will die.” His other wife said, “At least do look upon me!” Her husband said, “Do not look upon her. She will take your [female] soul.” This was a ke’le-woman: therefore, if she had looked upon her, she would have died immediately. The other woman said again, “At least do sit on my pillow-bag!” — “Do not sit down. She will kill your child.”

The human wife went out and busied herself in the outer tent. His other wife had made a cellar in the outer tent. In the darkness the human wife fell into that cellar. At last the child began to cry quite loud. Their husband said, “Oh, where is she?” He questioned his other wife. “Don’t you know anything about her?” — “Oh, I do not know anything at all.” Oho, the child was crying quite loud.

Their husband said, “Now, then, give me the drum!” Then he looked for his wife among the various Beings and could not find her. Then he set off (to visit) other kinds of Beings, those of the Morning Dawn, and she was not there. “Oh, oh, oh! How very extraordinary! I cannot find her.” Again he struck the drum. This time he went to the Mid-Day, and searched for her there. She was not there.

He said to his ke’le-wife, “It is you, who did (harm) to her.” The ke’le-wife answered him, “Why should I have done (harm) to my working-companion, my wife mate?” — “Now then, give me the drum again!” He searched for her among the Ground-Beings and saw her. He said to her, “Oh, what are you doing here? She was starving. She said, “It is your wife who made this cellar for me with the desire of murdering me.”

Then her husband said, “Now let us leave her! She is bad, and so we shall be made childless.” — “Oh,” he said to his ke’le-wife, “you are an experienced shaman! Do practise your art a little, and let us have some recreation.” — “Aha, all right!” The woman practised her art. The shaman, her husband, made a man of excrement, to give her the usual answers.

Then the woman practised her art. The man made a fire all around the house, and flames flashed up. Meanwhile the mannikin made of excrement was giving answer, “Git, git, git.” He proved to be quite lively. Then the ke’le-woman felt quite warm, because the house was ablaze, and the fire approached the sleeping-room. The husband and his human wife went far away, taking with them their obsidian scraper.

At last the ke’le-woman appeared from the sleeping-room, because she felt too hot. And the man made of excrement, who was giving answer, was downcast, because the excrement was melting. He could only call out feebly, “Git, git,” because this lively answerer was melting in the heat.

Then the tip of the tongue of the ke’le-woman jumped out and rushed in pursuit of the fugitives. It was quite swift, and soon drew near. The man said, “Now put down the obsidian scraper!” A big mountain originated, quite slippery. The tip of the tongue would climb up halfway, and then slide down again. Still, somehow it succeeded in crossing it, and continued the pursuit.

They stuck into the ground a piece of wood, and it turned into a dense wood. The wood had no openings, and was quite thick and dense. When passing through that wood, the tongue came to be covered with blood. Still it passed through it, and continued the pursuit. Then the man said to his wife, “Draw a line on the ground with the little finger of your left hand!” This time a river originated. As soon as the tongue left the bank, it was carried down by the current, because the river was flowing in rapids. Still it crossed the river. Then the man said to his wife, “Draw another line on the ground!”

They apply all kinds of means: it crosses again and pursues them. At last he ordered her to draw a line with soot [the lamp, and everything connected with it, are considered a highly efficient protection against spirits] of her lamp, using her right hand. When the tongue came to that soot river, it felt superstitious fear, and could not cross it. Then they went away and disappeared. The tongue probably turned back.

The human beings ascended to the Morning Dawn. There in the upper world they died of old age. The name of the shaman is Tai’pat. His son took his abode on the moon, and became a Sacrifice-Being. They throw up to him some thong, and in doing this they throw that thong upon every kind of game. They sacrifice also blood to the moon.

The mother was immortal. And she became the Left-Side Morning Dawn. Those probably were the people from the time of first creation.

Those that possess evil charms also dwell upon the moon in another place. Also [Ite’yun, Spirit of] Epilepsy was created. Of old the people were immortal. Also Coughing-of-Blood comes from there. And also a man who is visited by his enemy’s anger and ceases to catch game, his misfortune is also from there. It is necessary to be on guard, else even the lucky one may feel want. Truly, the game is made scarce by supernatural means. Then it becomes hard to kill. The sacrificing-shamans also have been created from there, and every kind of “Beings,” [Va’irgin, benevolent spirits] at least part of them.

The end. Let the wind cease!

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 Girl Who Married a Star

A chief’s sheltered daughter, confined to her barrabara, resists marriage despite suitors. Succumbing to a stranger’s plea, she escapes, only to endure cruelty from deceitful husbands. Rescued by a mystical old woman, she marries a celestial being, births a unique child, and bridges the earthly and cosmic realms. Her story reflects love, transformation, and finding belonging in an extraordinary union.

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

Journey to the Otherworld: Her marriage to a celestial being symbolizes a transition from the earthly realm to a cosmic or otherworldly existence.

Trials and Tribulations: The narrative details the various challenges and adversities she faces, highlighting her resilience and endurance.

Love and Betrayal: The story explores themes of romantic relationships, including the complexities of trust and deception.

► 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.

The chief of a very large village had an only daughter whom he never permitted to go outside of her barrabara Two servant girls were at her beck and call, and they attended to her wants.

One lovely summer day, the earth and sky being clear and blue, the air inspiriting, she felt herself irresistibly drawn to the window by the glad sunshine peeping through it, by the joyful shouts of those outside, and by the plaintive notes of the golden-crowned sparrow: and as she stood there, seeing and not seeing, she thought of her own sad life, and wondered why the pleasures of the other people were closed to her. She stood there a long time, and when she turned away, there were tears in her eyes. Her servants were watching her; on noticing it, she sent them away, one for fresh water, and the other after sweet roots. At their departure her imagination and feelings took again control of her. Her past life stood out before her very distinctly, and she groaned when she thought of the numerous proposals of marriage she had received during the last year; for nearly every day one or more men from the neighboring villages came to ask her in marriage from her father. He was unwilling to part with her, especially against her consent; and she, with her very limited knowledge of men and their ways, thought marriage strange and foolish, and rejected all offers.

► Continue reading…

With this subject in her mind, she was interrupted by her servants, who were sent by her father to announce to her that a bidarka with two young men had just arrived to seek her in marriage.

“Oh! why should I marry? Go, and say to them that I have no desire to marry. I am content to live as I am. Here it is warm. Why should I marry when I am not even allowed to go outside?”

One of the servants took the liberty of suggesting that, “One of the fellows is very young and handsome, the other not quite so. You had better marry now.”

“If he pleases you, marry him. I am satisfied and warm here; and why should I marry?” she curtly replied.

“They are waiting for you,” the other servant said, “and you may come outside if you like.”

“Go, bring me the water and roots, and tell them I will not marry.” Saying this, she pushed them outside, and, throwing herself on the bed, had a good cry. When the servants returned with roots and water, they found her in such a state that they feared she was ill. They questioned and tried to pacify her, but she paid no attention to them. “What have we done to you that you should be angry with us. It is not our fault that you please all men, and they desire to marry you. If your father finds out your present condition, he will punish us,” etc.

In the evening she said to the girls, “Go, sleep in the adjoining barrabara; if I need you, I will call you.” When they had filled the stone lamp, fixed her bed, and in other ways arranged for her comfort during the night, they went out.

Unable to sleep, the girl sat up, making sinew thread; and about midnight she heard some one cutting the intestine window, and a man’s voice calling softly, —

“Chit! chit! chit! chit! look this way.” She did not, and went on with her work.

“Chit! chit! chit! chit! just look at me once,” he pleadingly called. If she heard him, she took no notice of him.

“Chit! chit! chit! chit! look at me just once.” For the third time she heard the tempter’s call. This time she looked up, and beheld a very handsome young man, with a face as white as hers, and she asked him, “Why do you ask me to look at you?”

“Come here quick! I wish to marry you,” he whispered.

“What for?”

“Come quick! I am going to marry you. Why spend your days and nights in loneliness here. Come with me and see the world,” he coaxingly said.

Without more ado she obeyed, and with the aid of her lover escaped through the window, and hurried down to the beach. There a bidarka and her lover’s friend were awaiting them, and after stowing her away in the bidarka, they paddled off.

It was daylight when they landed, and she was taken to a nice clean barrabara. Here she lived three days, and during that time she was by turns the wife of both. On the morning of the fourth day she was led to a large, open, cold barrabara, and tied up there. It was in the fall of the year, and the cold wind blew through it, and made her shiver with cold. Her food consisted of bare bones. In this cruel and sure way the men hoped to be rid of her.

The second morning of her imprisonment, and while the men were away hunting, the girl, cold and hungry, heard some one approaching. “Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck,” it sounded as it drew nearer and nearer until it ceased in the entrance. She raised up the leather door, and a very old, shrunken, shrivelled, and toothless woman, bearing a platter of hot meat, entered and said: “I have brought you some meat, for I know you are hungry. Eat fast.” The girl, being very hungry, ate as fast as she could, but still not fast enough to please the old woman, who continued hurrying her to eat still faster. “Eat faster — they will soon appear — why did you marry them — faster still — they are almost here,” she said almost in one breath. When the girl had done eating, the woman cleaned her teeth, so that no sign of food should be left on the premises, and hastily snatching up her platter, disappeared as mysteriously as she appeared.

“Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck,” floated back faintly, and died out altogether.

The old woman did not go too quickly; for the men appeared very soon after. “Still she lives; she does not even change color. Somewhat tougher than her predecessors,” they laughingly remarked, and left her. A little later they brought her bones; and the girl went at them as if she were famishing. Noticing that the girl was not the worse from her treatment, and suspecting something was wrong, the men commenced to watch. They would go out a short distance from the shore, and then come right back, and conceal themselves. But during their brief absence the old woman appeared and fed the girl. For several days this spying continued.

Very early one morning, just after the men had gone out in their bidarka, the old woman came, with meat, and speaking rapidly, said, “Eat fast — why did you come here — they have starved many girls before you. If you do not wish to die, come with me. I have a son who desires to marry, but cannot get a wife. This is the last time I come to you — the men have discovered, are aware of my visits. If you come with me, the men shall never find you” —

“I will go with you,” interrupted the girl.

In a twinkle the old woman unbound her, and set her in a large basket, which she put on her back. “Now close your eyes tight, and don’t open them till I tell you,” cautioned the old woman. As they began to move, the girl felt the cold air while they buzzed and whizzed through it. Tiring of keeping her eyes closed, she opened them just a little. “Ai, Ai, Y-a-h,” screamed the old woman, “close them, or we will fall in the water.” The noise and whir of the air. as they rushed through it, was so annoying that she began to unclose her eyes for the second time. “Don’t open them now; we will soon arrive, and then you may look,” pleaded the woman.

When they came to a standstill, the girl found herself in front of a large barrabara. The interior was cozy and clean. A cheerful fire was burning, over which were several pots with seal and duck meat. Spreading out a mat in the front part of the room, the old woman begged the girl to be seated; then she brought her a new pair of torbarsars and a sea-otter parka. While the girl was dressing, the old woman ran outside for a moment, and on her return said to the girl: “Don’t be scared when you see my son; although his appearance is terrifying, yet he is very harmless.” This news had a pensive effect on the girl, for she wondered what she had got into. To distract her from her gloomy thoughts, the old woman placed food, and talked to the girl. Pretty soon she went out again, and hurried back, announcing, “Here comes my son.” The girl, already half-frightened, kept her eyes on the doorway, and when, of a sudden, a lot of willow twigs darkened it, she fell back, screaming, “Ai, Ai, Y-a-h! Ai, Ai, Y-a-h!” The old woman hastened to her, trying to calm her. “Don’t be alarmed,” she said; “this is my son; these are some of his hair.” She stared at him, doubting her own eyes; for he was one-sided. That side, however, was complete, and had all its members in the usual place, except the eye, which was in the forehead, and shone very brilliantly.

“Look at the wife I brought you,” the mother called the son’s attention to the girl. He turned his one eye on her, and, from the way it winked and sparkled, he was well pleased. Probably because he was embarrassed, or perhaps he thought it wise to leave the two women to themselves for a time, he left the room. When he returned, a little later, with seals and several kinds of ducks, he found the bride looking more cheerful. The marriage was not delayed at all. In the course of a very short time a child was born, a boy, who was the perfect image of his father, and “just as pretty,” as the grandmother said. There was happiness and no lack of cheering light in the family, especially when pretty, one-sided baby awoke and opened his little wee sparkling eye. Mamma, as was natural, vowed it was the brightest baby she had ever seen, and it had more expression in its one eye than other babies had in their two eyes and face together, to which statement grandmother readily agreed.

Although a bride of several months, the girl had not yet become well acquainted with her husband and his strange body, as is shown from the following incident: One night being stormy, the husband did not go out as usual, and during the night he asked his wife to scratch his moss-covered head, in which his hair, the twigs, were rooted. Telling him to keep his eye open, so she could see, she commenced the operation with the twigs first. In doing so, she disturbed a mouse, which ran and hid in its hole in the moss. “Ai, Ai, Y-a-h!” she shrieked, and dropped his head; “there are mice in your head.”

“Oh, no !” he declared, “they are mere fleas.”

A year had passed since the happy marriage between the son of the sky and the daughter of the earth took place. The one-sided result of this marriage began to grow and become strong. Motherhood brought with it the desire to see her own parents once more. Permission to do this was granted, and the mother-in-law set about making a basket in which to send her down. When it was done, she called the young mother to the fireplace, around which were four flat rocks, and said: “Raise these rocks, and try and find your father’s village.” Darkness of night was in the first one; the rosy tints of dawn were visible in the second; a grand sunset filled the third; and in the fourth she recognized the village of her father, wrapped in midday splendor. Then she seated herself in the basket, to which a rope was tied; but, before lowering her, the mother-in-law gave her some advice: “Close your eyes tight, and don’t open them, for if you do you will fall. Should you meet with an obstacle on the way, stamp your foot, and it will disappear. A second obstacle may impede your progress; do likewise, and it too will vanish. When for the third time the basket stops, unclose your eyes, and you will find yourself in the home of your childhood. If it does not please you down there, seat yourself in the basket again, pull on the rope, and I will draw you up.”

Placing the child in her arms, the old woman lowered away, and after encountering the enumerated obstacles, the young woman saw in front her native village. To the barrabara of her father she directed her footsteps, and, as she drew near, she noticed a grave close by. For when she disappeared so suddenly, her parents, thinking her dead, made a grave for her, probably to take her place (?). She went in, and when the people there saw her with the queer-looking child in her arms, they ran pell-mell out of there, thinking she returned from the land of the dead.

This reception brought tears to her eyes, and, realizing for the first time the great gulf that separated her from her earthly relatives, and that her real home now was with the father of her child, she walked back to the basket, gave the signal, and a little later was welcomed by her mother-in-law and husband, from whom she parted no more, and with whom she is living to this day.

Her husband is a star. At sunrise each morning he goes to sleep for a few hours; after that he hunts ducks, seals, and other sea animals. If, on his return in the evening, it is cloudy and stormy, he spends the night at home with his family; but if it is clear, he stretches himself out on the sky, and observes the doings of the world below, as any one who takes the trouble to look up can see.

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