The Eskimos are a kindly, industrious, smiling people. To our way of
thinking their lives are uncivilized and cheerless. And yet, in their
own primitive way, they find much happiness in life. They live from one
moment only to the next. When food is plentiful, they gorge. When seals
and game are scarce, they patiently do without.
Eskimo children never cry. They are never punished by their parents, for
the spirits which inhabit their little bodies might take offense and
depart. They play happy games as do children the world over, with balls
sewed together from reindeer or seal hides and with toys carved from
ivory, bone or wood.
The people are courteous and considerate. I have sat in their kasgas
when the oomaliks (head men) were in council with my husband, who at
that time was Governor of Alaska. The dignity and order of their debates
would honor any legislative assembly. There is no interruption to a
speaker until the final “I have spoken.”
The council finished, comes the customary dance in the kasga. The dance
is always symbolic—the coming of spring, the flight of the ducks, the
spearing of the whale, the wolf dance, or the killing of the bear. The
men dance with grotesque gesture until exhausted, while the women with
quiet feet, sway gently in unison in the dim light from the opening
overhead. On the platform at the end of the kasga the musicians beat
industriously on their drums.
The stories in this little book are adapted from some of the great
number gathered through many years by Dr. Daniel S. Neuman, of Nome. It
was Dr. Neuman who painstakingly made the splendid and unequaled
collection of Eskimo antiquities and modern implements now on exhibit in
the territorial museum at Juneau. The acquiring of this collection for
the Territory was one of my husband’s last official acts as governor.
I have endeavored to rewrite these tales for boys and girls in the hope
that they may take an interest in that quaint people, living still in
the stone age, who, on account of their contact with the so-called
civilized races, are gradually vanishing into the past.
Renée Coudert Riggs.