Across the Spectrum (8 page)

Even the biggest glass person is no bigger than you, and as
skinny as a hare’s foreleg. They always wear bulky clothing—to keep them warm,
they say, but I think they are ashamed of their tiny, sunken chests. Their skins
are very pale, and they smell like burnt antler. But they are much stronger
than they look.

Some say the glass people are very stupid. It’s true that
they are poor traders, but they are excellent healers and great travelers. And
great liars! One tried to convince me he was born on a star!

Despite their lies, the glass people can be trusted to
provide the things we need for the great hunt. We brought many fine carvings,
which we had been making and saving for just this purpose ever since the last
great hunt, and traded them for sheets of glass, rings of metal, special
carving tools, and other objects used only for the great hunt totem. We needed
special tools because the outer wood of the black cedar is so strong and hard.
But the heartwood is soft, and burns hotter and faster than any other tree.

You probably think the great hunt totem is like the totems
we carve for the summer longhouse. It is much bigger—as tall as five people,
and so big around that two people can barely join hands around it at the base—but
that is not the most important difference. Ordinary totems are solid wood, but
the great hunt totem is riddled with hollows and channels. Some are so big a
person can crawl inside; all are decorated with the bright glass and metal
objects we get from the glass people. Everything must be prepared according to
the elders’ wisdom, even though much of it cannot be seen, or the totem will
surely lose its way.

Another difference in a great hunt totem is that the figure
on the top, not the bottom, is the most important. In our totem the topmost
figure was Raven himself. He was carefully carved out inside, and the space
within was decorated with the finest and most elaborate pieces in the most
ancient patterns. The other figures—Bear, Badger, and Hare—were mostly solid
inside; smaller hollow spaces were made and decorated between the figures, as
tradition dictates.

While the totem was being carved, the great hunt candidates
spent each day being instructed in the rituals of the hunt. We learned to read
the patterns of the stars: Whale and Seal and the other legendary creatures
became our guides and companions. We learned the rituals of purification and
cleansing that must be performed before and during the hunt. We learned the
traditional chants and the dances that went with them. Grandmother Tiriganiaq
would strike me with her stick if I dropped a phrase or chanted too fast; many
candidates failed because they could not keep proper time.

Most important of all, we learned to wear and care for our
ritual garments. The great hunt costume is vital to the hunt; it protects the
wearer from malicious spirits who would steal his soul. It is made of a special
fabric we get from the glass people, more supple than doeskin but tough and
waterproof, and must be kept completely clean and free of any holes or tears.
Mine was made for me by my mother and my grandfather Udjuk. It represented
Porcupine, with bold red and black stripes on the arms and legs and a grand
headdress that covered my whole head and face.

In the end ten of us knew all the chants and dances. Our
bodies were strong and purified, and our minds were full of knowledge. Finally,
on the day the carving of the great hunt totem was complete, each of us was
taken away from the camp by three elders and made to perform the entire ritual
alone, while they watched stony-faced.

I cleansed myself three times. I struggled into the heavy
and awkward ritual garments, and carefully sealed all the openings to keep my
soul from being stolen. I stood in a circle drawn in the dirt, the exact size
of the hollow inside Raven, and executed each chant and dance, speaking the
name of each sacred object as I pretended to touch it in the prescribed way.

The watching elders were silent, offering no assistance or
criticism, but I could see their heads nod as they chanted along with me under
their breath. When the test was done I stood panting while they conferred on my
performance. Finally Grandmother Koovianatuklook spoke: “You have performed
adequately.” That was all. They left me there to cleanse the ritual garments
and haul them back to camp by myself.

The next day the elders called a council of the whole clan.
When all were gathered, Grandfather Umingmak raised both hands and spoke: “Six
of the candidates have performed adequately, demonstrating a complete command
of our most sacred traditions and rituals. Of these six, it is traditional for
the elders to select the one of greatest strength and agility to represent our
clan in the great hunt. But on this occasion we have been unable to reach a
consensus. There are two candidates of equal qualification: Natsiq and Ukaliq.”
The blood roared in my ears, nearly drowning out his following words: “These
two will compete in the pole game to select our representative.”

Once again I cleansed myself, carefully inspected my sacred
costume, and sealed myself inside it. This time Natsiq—my father’s brother’s
daughter, and my companion in many games and hunts—performed the same rituals
beside me as she donned her own costume. Finally we faced each other, two
creatures of legend, and raised our hands in salute.

The poles were brought out, as tall as a person and brightly
painted, with two crossbars fixed at the top of each. The other candidates
raised the poles, two strides apart, and held them while Natsiq and I scrambled
to their tops. I hooked my thighs over the top crossbar and my feet under the
bottom one, to lock myself to the pole. My balancing rod, a long straight wand
of yew, was handed up to me. I was given a moment to find the center of the rod
and position it horizontally across my chest. I saw that Natsiq had done the
same. Then the other candidates released the poles, and the pole game began.
The last one vertical would be the victor.

For the first few moments we just teetered, rods wavering.
The people outside the circle of candidates shouted and cheered at each
movement. The muscles of my chest and back strained as I used my rod to counter
each motion before it could turn into a fall, and my legs and stomach burned
from clenching the crossbars.

Then I saw Natsiq’s rod swinging around toward me. I moved
my rod to block it, but nearly unbalanced myself in doing so. My left shoulder
felt as though it were tearing open, but by sheer luck I managed to knock
Natsiq’s rod with my own, so she was also distracted while I fought back to
center.

I took advantage of this opening to strike at Natsiq’s head;
my rod seemed to move as slowly as the greater moon in its path through the
sky. Natsiq managed to slip her rod under mine, and pushed up. But I pushed
down, sending both of us into a frenzy of waving and dipping to stay upright.
The crowd yelled encouragement; my breath roared in my headdress.

I nearly toppled, but saved myself by pushing at the ground
with my rod. Seeing me defenseless, Natsiq struck quickly, landing the end of
her rod squarely in the center of my chest. As I started to fall back, I did
the only thing I could: I pushed with my planted rod. A great cheer exploded
from the crowd as I overbalanced and started to fall toward Natsiq instead.

Natsiq’s rod still hovered before my chest. I released my
own rod and grabbed the end of hers. Natsiq’s eyes were wide behind her
ceremonial mask as I pushed wildly to stop my forward movement, pushing Natsiq
back. Her eyes never left mine as she tipped back, back, back, and landed in
the arms of the other candidates. I was left atop my pole with no rod, waving
my arms frantically, for a long moment before I too fell.

Natsiq and I struggled to our feet and saluted each other.
The noise of the crowd doubled as I unsealed my headdress; I waved at them,
then embraced Natsiq. She stiffened at first, then squeezed me back. After a
long hug we held each other at arms’ length. There were tears in Natsiq’s eyes,
but she held her chin high and smiled as she shouted above the din of the
crowd: “You have performed adequately!”

After that my training only increased in intensity. The
final ceremony of the great hunt would begin in just two days. I drilled
constantly, until my muscles ached and the rhythms of the traditional chants
controlled even my dreams. I ate only sacred meals, building up my spiritual
energy for the hunt. I cleaned and inspected every part of my ceremonial
garments over and over. Meanwhile the elders and hunters completed the
preparation of the great hunt totem, moving it from the carving place to the
rocky valley nearby and standing it erect.

The morning of the final ceremony found me fully awake
before first light. I had slept, but fitfully; I was too excited. I was even a
little scared. I knew that not every hunter returns from the great hunt. Totems
lose their way; hunters’ souls escape through unnoticed tears in their
clothing; ice boulders crush hunters by accident.

I reminded myself that, even if I did not return, I would
represent my clan in the great hunt and bring honor on us all. Some clans are
too poor to trade with the glass people. Some do not complete their totems in
time, or do not find any successful candidates among their young people. Our
clan is great, and has participated in every great hunt since time began. Be
proud of this.

I walked alone in the predawn light to the valley where my
totem awaited me. The rising sun shone on the bold red, black, and white
patterns. I greeted noble Bear, brave Badger, clever Hare, and mighty Raven—who
glittered in the sun with the bits of glass and metal worked into his
design—and wished them well for the great hunt. Then I returned to camp, where
the whole clan was beginning preparations for the day’s ceremonies.

My day began with a substantial breakfast, to sustain me for
the hunt. I would eat only the most consecrated foods on the hunt itself. Then
I cleansed myself three times and donned once more the ritual garments. The
elders inspected them carefully before I dressed, and again once I was fully
costumed, to be sure my soul would be properly protected from the hazards of
the hunt. Finally I sealed the headdress onto my shoulders, and the elders and
I walked slowly down to the rocky valley.

The other candidates were there, standing in a ring around
the great hunt totem, all wearing their ceremonial garb. Around them in a
larger ring was gathered the whole clan. As soon as we came in view, a great
shout went up from the crowd, and they all chanted my name song as I walked
with the elders to the center. Once we had seated ourselves, the drums began
pounding and the candidates leapt into the ice boulder dance, to bring me luck
on the hunt. I was very proud of them.

After the dance, the candidates stood panting before me and
the elders. Grandfather Umingmak thanked them for their efforts and encouraged
all the people to bend their thoughts toward success in the great hunt. Then a
climbing pole was brought in for me to ascend the totem. My heart leapt in my
chest as I realized the great hunt itself was about to begin.

My mother and father held the pole steady, and I formally
thanked them for birthing and raising me before I clambered to the top. There I
found a pot of paint and a brush waiting. As I spoke the words of the awakening
chant, I carefully painted in the pupils of Raven’s eyes so he would guide the
totem safely. I made them as big and as round as I could so that he could see
clearly. When I was finished I lowered the pot and brush on a cord to the
elders below, then stepped inside Raven’s body. The climbing pole was pulled
away as I fastened the door behind me.

The hollow space inside Raven was glorious with color. The
entire space was painted with a single giant image of Raven, centered on the
seat carved into the floor where I positioned myself. Raven’s beak rose over my
head, and his wings—encrusted with the most sacred objects and punctuated here
and there with glass—enfolded me in their embrace. I was honored to know that
only I would see this marvelous work, and I knew Raven would be pleased by it and
keep me safe. I continued the awakening chant as I fastened the clasps of the
many necklaces and belts that would protect my spirit. The chant concluded with
the words “Mighty Raven, hear my voice: guide me well and bring me success in
the great hunt!”

Next after the awakening chant came the Bear chant. Through
the glass in Raven’s feathers I could see the people gathered, far in the
distance, while I touched each bead and carving as prescribed by the chant.
Bear began to stir below me as he responded to the demanding rhythms of the
chant. He shrugged and rumbled louder and louder, and I chanted harder just to
hear my own voice. Finally, touching the amulet of Bear fastened beneath my
left hand, I firmly chanted “Noble Bear, hear my voice: awaken and carry me to
the great hunt!”

Bear responded with a mighty shout. The sound of his voice
was a thousand thunders, so great it shook the world and turned the sky from
blue to black. I felt the spirit of Bear standing upon my chest as he roared in
my ears, but I did not omit one syllable of the chant.

Now began the Badger chant. This was the most critical chant
of all: the slightest deviation in timing would bring down Badger’s immediate
wrath, and not even Bear and Raven together could keep me safe. I do not understand
how Bear and Badger could hear me, so loud was Bear’s voice. But just as I
spoke the words “Brave Badger, hear my voice: bend your back and carry me on in
the great hunt” and touched the Badger amulet under my right hand, Bear stepped
off my chest and Badger began to roar instead.

Badger is not so large or fierce as Bear, but he is
powerful. The mere sound of Badger’s growl rattled my bones and drummed on my
belly, making my whole body tremble. Badger’s spirit walked from one end of my
body to the other, but as I chanted I felt him tread more and more lightly.
Finally he leapt away from the totem with a great jolt, leaving me alone with
silent Raven and Hare.