It is so still in the house.
There is a calm in the house;
The snowstorm wails out there,
And the dogs are rolled up with snouts under the tail.
My little boy is sleeping on the ledge,
On his back he lies, breathing through his open mouth.
His little stomach is bulging round --
Is it strange if I start to cry with joy?
Page 71
Each man trades just once,
or maybe twice, a year. The first time is when the ice has formed and
the fall foxes have been caught in sufficient numbers to make a good showing.
A man always brings his wife and all his children, as this is a great
event for the year. It is dark during the four months from October 19
to February 24, and when the sledge comes out of the darkness all the
inhabitants of the village gather around and lots of ceremonies are gone
through to show how glad the visitors are to be there and for the inhabitants
to tell them how welcome they are. They come into my house, after the
dogs are looked after and everything taken care of, and get something
to eat. My boiled meat is followed by tea with sugar, and it is a big
feast for everybody. All the villagers come in too, listening, talking,
and telling.
We discuss the weather,
the hunting in the summer, the dogs, the scandals of different places,
and other events. The only matter we don't talk about is foxes. Next day
the same thing -- eating, dancing, talking -- and the next day and the
next, until I for my part think that the hospitality has come to an end.
Then I just casually ask the man whether he has caught any foxes this
year.
"Me, foxes?"
he answers. "Nothing doing. One is a poor hunter as far as that goes,
but especially for foxes."
"Well," I say,
"I'm sorry, because I'd like to have a few foxes just to send home
to the white people's country when the ship arrives next summer, and I
ought to have a few absolutely first-class ones; and I know that in that
case I will have to see you to get the very best grade."
"Oh!" the man
yells out. The big, nice white man has made a mistake. "Oh, you don't
know how unable I am to catch foxes. And what about it? Even if I had
a few skins in my possession, what do you think my awful lazy and dirty
wife would do with them? She can't tan skins. In fact she can't do anything."
The wife sits listening, but doesn't protest.
"Well," I remark,
"I saw a couple of bags out on the load which is now on the meat
racks, and I thought they contained fox skins."
"Well," the
man says, "maybe there's just a couple of fox skins in the bags,
but we just use them to wipe the grease off our hands and other dirty
things; and anyway, they are full of oil and far below such skins as your
eyes should be bothered with looking at."
"Good!" I say.
"But just the same I might like to have some of them. What about
looking at them tomorrow?"
We arrange that, and the
man keeps on for half an hour complaining that tomorrow will be his day
of shame and dishonor. "Oh, why did I bring those lousy skins with
me! Oh, why couldn't I get a real able wife to work like you, and you"
(he points to every woman present). "Now I know that I have seen
this place for the last time, because after the laugh that will be made
over me tomorrow I will never show up again, even if I am tough enough
to survive it, which I doubt."
Next day comes, and after
breakfast I again have to encourage the customer to show his merchandise.
Groaning and lamenting, he goes for his bags, the wife following him.
Now comes the big moment of the year. They bring in a couple of sacks,
each containing some fifty blue fox skins, and they have beforehand assured
themselves that the whole village is present to witness their triumph.
As if they were being dragged to the gallows, they open the sacks and
pour the contents out. Now it is my turn. I look at the skins amazed,
surprised and beaten.
"Well," I say,
"as usual, those are the best skins in the year. I knew they would
come from you; and they certainly did. Here is something I will have to
mourn about for years, because I am unable to get those foxes." The
man raises his head, interested. "What did you say? Are they too
poor for you to accept?"
"Oh, no; not at all.
Just the opposite. You will have to take every one of your skins back
with you because I have nothing to pay with. The trading goods that came
out this year were especially bad. We haven't got enough of them and they
certainly aren't of a kind that can pay for such skins as yours."
"Pay!" yells
the man at the top of his voice. "You don't think that I would show
myself low enough to take any pay for those poor skins? I will feel myself
happy if you'll accept them. Oh! Pay! My ears must be thick or my mind
is turned crazy, because the sound I got in my head made it seem as though
it was your intention to pay something for those terrible skins."
This takes some time,
but finally I put in a question. "I am unable to pay for the skins
but anxious to show my gratitude through my poor gifts. What could you
be thinking of Wanting in case I should be presumptuous enough to compare
my unworthy goods to your valuable furs?"
He starts in, talking
to himself, trying to remember; but it is impossible for him. "What
do I Want! What do I want! Oh, I am a man without wishes. I don't know
if I want anything."
It is then up to me. "Don't
you want a gun?"
"A gun! A gun! Oh,
a gun had been in my mind and in my dreams for a long, long time; but
I, the man you listen to now, am a terrible hunter. Why should I have
a gun?"
"Well, I will give
you a gun. You need a knife, too, and you need some tools. And what more?"
Now that the big time
is here he doesn't know what he wants. But I have the skins, so I invite
the man, his wife, and his children to go into the store and look the
things over. They get the key and go down to the store. They go in, closing
the door carefully behind them, and spend the best day in the year going
through everything. There isn't one gun that isn't taken down and looked
over; no kettle but what is unpacked and examined, but packed again and
put in its place. All the knives are tested, every pipe sucked at. The
scissors are looked over, the needles taken out, and the dry goods, hardware,
everything is gone through-soap and what else. They spend the whole day
in that store.
Meantime, I get a chance
to look these skins over and figure out my prices, and finally, in the
evening when the couple come back, the man has his wishes. He never tells
what he wants, but he relates of what fine knives he saw, both those with
the white handles and those with the brown, and the small ones with the
point. He goes on: "And then I looked at the files. My, what beautiful
files! Just what I needed last summer when I gave up my routine laziness
and happened to work a little. And I saw Out there that you have axes.
I guess the big hunters-of course not me, but the real big hunters-they
have plenty of use for such axes for chopping up the frozen meat in the
wintertime." And he keeps on as if he were sent out to advertise
the store to the public. He is interrupted by a sort of yelling or crying
from the background. It is his wife, carefully instructed by him, who
now breaks in complaining what a bold and fresh husband she has, keeping
on asking like a beggar even when it has been proved to everybody that
he has nothing to pay with. This, of course, only serves to cause me to
protest that his skins are marvelous, unmatched so far, etc.
When the man has been
talking for some time, I turn to the wife. "What about you? Aren't
you going to trade? Don't you want something?"
She blushes and looks
for a place to hide. "Me? Certainly not! What should I want? Am I
one who deserves anything? Oh, no; I have no wants, no wishes at all.
Haven't I been a guest in your splendid house? Haven't I spoiled the fur
he brought? Don't talk to me. Why does a big, strong man direct his words
to a poor woman and make me ashamed?"
"But wasn't there
something you would like?"
"I would like to
have-oh, I happen to be without wishes; only those people who are worth
something should have something."
"Well, but I just
want you to take something with you.
And after several more
excuses, she tells what she might like to have. A few needles, just to
possess them, because she can't sew, and it is only because other women
have such things and know how to use them. And she wanted some scissors,
and she wanted thread. Maybe for the children some undershirts would be
good, and some for herself; also combs. And "I would like to have
a mirror, even though I, of course, will never look at myself in it. But
sometimes real women lower themselves to visit me. And a kettle and some
cups; maybe a pot. But because I am so bad I will not ask for a sewing
box, but I looked at one out there which was good, so I will have something
to think about. Of course I don't want it. And then I saw --"
But here her husband interrupts.
"Wait a moment! I have to go outside and beat my fresh and shameless
wife. Oh, I am a poor man at everything, and here you see I can't even
educate my wife. Where is my whip? What can I have to lash her with?"
The wife keeps on asking,
and finally I have to stop her from asking for more. Meanwhile I have
figured out how much they can have for each skin and write it down on
a piece of paper, sending them out to my clerk, who now is in the store
ready to deliver the goods. It pays better and saves me lots of talk and
time when I'm not there. They look at the piece of paper I give them as
a nun looks at the Holy Bible. Now the clerk has his troubles out there
while they are making their choice between the different cups, the different
kettles, the guns, and what not.
And now comes the end
of the trading, where they show their smartness and prove what fine business
people they are.
The man will come running
in. "Oh, I'm so sorry; when I told you what my needs were I forgot
to ask for tobacco. I'd like to have some tobacco."
"All right."
I allow him the tobacco.
A few minutes after he
will be back with his purchases. "Well," he will say, "I
saw a knife out there I would like to have instead of this one, though
it will ruin my sleep to part with this one, too."
I let him have the knife.
The wife will be there.
"There was also some red cloth. My, I would rather have that than
some of the things I got, but I'll begin to cry when I have to give them
away again.
Then the man comes again.
"When I am going out on long bear hunts my thoughts will go back
to this hatchet, and I'll be thinking of having had it in my possession,
because I'll have to give it back and procure a saw I saw out there. I
have the whole time been thinking of a saw, but my tongue refused to pronounce
the word."
I let him have the saw.
And they keep on. The only way to stop them is to have lunch ready. Big
helpings of meat; whaleskin in mighty plates, piles of frozen bear meat,
bags of duck eggs frozen hard as stones, but delicious to bite into like
apples-all given to make them use their mouths for everything but asking
for more. And the deal is closed.
Next day the departure
takes place. The dogs are harnessed up and attached to the sledge. The
man and wife are loading and lashing their stuff on the sledge. But sure
enough, he comes in at the last moment: "Oh, I forgot matches! Why
didn't I mention a saw file! If I had only asked for a little more goods!
Enough for a harpoon shaft!"
The smartest man is the
man who remembers most. He gets a reputation amongst his countrymen. Of
course the perfectly straight-minded man doesn't know about this and doesn't
allow for it, but the seasoned trader keeps back four or five fox skins
to make up for the forgettings and additional wishes.
When everything is loaded
on and the woman and children placed on top of the sledge, the man gives
a signal to the dogs to rise up and be alert. Then I come out with a package
in my hand, giving the wife some tea and sugar, or whatever else I know
she would like. Of course these things have been allowed for, too.
The whip cracks and away
they go. They soon disappear in the darkness, coming again late in the
spring before the ice breaks and they have to go to the places where there
is open water and the summer keeps them from communication with the outside
world.
Page
188
If, as a stranger, you
come to an Eskimo and ask his help for some task or other, he will almost
always receive you kindly and promise his assistance. He will usually
answer yes to anything you ask him, and inexperienced people have often
taken this for dishonesty, whereas it is really a wish to please. If you
ask him something, he tries to find out what answer you want and then
proceeds to give it to you. Suppose that you want to ask him if a certain
road can be traveled, and you say: "I want to go that way; do you
think it can be done?" He will reply, as a rule: "Yes, the road
can be traveled." It is not in his mind to deceive you, but if you
should then happen to ask him to accompany you, there will be something
wrong which prevents his going with you. He may claim that his dogs are
in bad condition if it is a sled journey, or that his kayak has holes
in it, if it is a rowing job to be done. If you insist, he may finally
promise to undertake the trip with you, but the next morning he will withdraw
with the excuse that his wife is ill, that his child will miss him, or
some other such thing.
It must also be considered
that the Eskimo never thinks much beyond the present, and it usually wouldn't
occur to him that his little pleasantry might have disagreeable consequences.
He takes care of his problems for the day and trusts that he can do likewise
tomorrow. When you learn to know him better, you may be able to distinguish
between his yes and his no even if -- philologically -- the words don't
convey the meaning. Sometimes his answer to your question is "Perhaps."
The intonation or the accompanying gestures will tell you whether it is
yes or no. Peace is all the Eskimo wants. His whole life is a fight against
nature, a fight in tension where life itself is often at stake, and therefore
-- in his home and in his associations with other people -- he tries to
have the peace and quiet that is his desire.
Page 192
There was prejudice against
Eskimos on the part of whlte men. I saw it clearly myself when I married
Navarana. Danes wrote to me pleading with me not to do it. I would put
myself in a lower class. It was a disgrace to my name as a Dane, etc.
During trips, I stopped overnight with Danes who invited me to their table
but said: "There is something provided for your wife in the kitchen."
When I then told them that I would prefer to eat with the Greenlanders,
because they had the good grace not to look down upon me because I was
born in another country, they just said: "Well, but we never take
Greenlanders into our apartment." I hasten to state that such experiences
were exceptions.
But since I witnessed
a smiling tolerance on the part of my wife when people tried to make her
feel that she was "only" a Greenlander, I came to understand
what a fine and tactful people the Greenland Eskimos really are. Time
and again, their integrity was violated, they were exposed to obscenities
and impertinence, but they always had the serenity to be silent and think.
When I myself felt angered at hearing a Dane address a Greenlander impertinently,
I perceived a little glint in the eyes of the latter and understood that
this Greenlander was often more dignified than the one who was debasing
him.
I remember my friend "Little
Jonas," in Proeven. Once, I heard the wife of the colony manager
use coarse and obscene language on him who, as a master hunter, often
fed the whole settlement. Little Jonas stood there quietly and let her
rave for a while. Then he said: "Alas, you are a child in this country,
and a child in your thoughts. It is impossible to be angry with a child;
it would be a loss of dignity!"
Page
194
But suicides are numerous
among them. If they are hit with sickness, if great human sorrows weigh
them down when-as they express it-"life is heavier than death,"
then no man hesitates to make an end of his torment and cross into the
distant land. In many places, voluntary death is normal for old men and
women who are burdened with the memories of their youth, and who can no
longer meet the demands of their own reputation. Old people kill themselves
to avoid being a hindrance to their kin.
Fear of death is unknown
to them, they know only love of life. The Eskimos are themselves unaware
of the difficulty of their existence, they always enjoy life with an enviable
intensity, and they believe themselves to be the happiest people on earth
living in the most beautiful country there is. When an old man sees the
young men go out hunting and cannot himself go along, he is sorry. When
he has to ask other people for skins for his clothing, when he cannot
ever again be the one to invite the neighbors to eat his game, life is
of no value to him. Rheumatism and other ills may plague him, and he wants
to die. This has been done in different ways in different tribes, but
everywhere it is held that if a man feels himself to be a nuisance, his
love for his kin, coupled with the sorrow of not being able to take part
in the things which are worthwhile, impels him to die.
In some tribes, an old
man wants his oldest son or favorite daughter to be the one to put the
string around his neck and hoist him to his death. This was always done
at the height of a party where good things were being eaten, where everyone
-- including the one who was about to die -- felt happy and gay, and which
would end with the angakok conjuring and dancing to chase Out the evil
spirits. At the end of his performance, he would give a special rope made
of seal and walrus skin to the "executioner," who then placed
it over the beam in the roof of the house and fastened it around the neck
of the old man. Then the two rubbed noses, and the young man pulled the
rope. Every body in the house either helped or sat on the end of the rope
so as to have the honor of bringing the old suffering one to the Happy
Hunting Grounds where there would always be light and plenty of game of
all kinds. There a man can decide whether he wants to go bear hunting,
caribou hunting, or fight the walrus in a kayak.
Old women may sometimes
prefer to be stabbed with a dagger into the heart -- a thing which is
also done by a son or a daughter or whoever is available for the deed.
There is absolutely no cruelty connected with this. They just believe
that life has come to an end....
