AFTERNOON TEA IN AN EGLU
THE Esquimo village was reached across the _tundra_, and Teddy and
Kalitan were much interested in the queer houses. Built for the long
winter of six or eight months, when it is impossible to do anything
out-of-doors, the _eglu_[15] seems quite comfortable from the Esquimo
point of view, but very strange to their American cousins.
"I thought the Esquimos lived in snow houses," said Ted, as they looked
at the queer little huts, and Kalitan exclaimed:
"Huh! Innuit queer Indian!"
"No," said Mr. Strong; "his hut is built by digging a hole about six
feet deep and standing logs up side by side around the hole. On the top
of these are placed logs which rest even with the ground. Stringers are
put across these, and other logs and moss and mud roofed over it,
leaving an opening in the middle about two feet square. This is covered
with a piece of walrus entrail so thin and transparent that light easily
passes through it, and it serves as a window, the only one they have. A
smoke-hole is cut through the roof, but there is no door, for the hut is
entered through another room built in the same way, fifteen or twenty
feet distant, and connected by an underground passage about two feet
square with the main room. The entrance-room is entered through a hole
in the roof, from which a ladder reaches the bottom of the passage."
"Can we go into a hut?" asked Ted.
"I'll ask that woman cooking over there," said Mr. Strong, as they went
up to a woman who was cooking over a peat fire, holding over the coals
an old battered skillet in which she was frying fish. She nodded and
smiled at the boys, and, as Esquimos are always friendly and hospitable
souls, told them to go right into her _eglu_, which was close by.
They climbed down the ladder, crawled along the narrow passage to where
a skin hung before an opening, and, pushing it aside, entered the
living-room. Here they found an old man busily engaged in carving a
walrus tooth, another sewing _mukluks_, while a girl was singing a
quaint lullaby to a child of two in the corner.
The young girl rose, and, putting the baby down on a pile of skins,
spoke to them in good English, saying quietly:
"You are welcome. I am Alalik."
"May we see your wares? We wish to buy," said Mr. Strong, courteously.
"You may see, whether you buy or not," she said, with a smile, which
showed a mouth full of even white teeth, and she spread out before them
a collection of Esquimo goods. There were all kinds of carvings from
walrus tusks, grass baskets, moccasins of walrus hide, stone bowls and
cups, _parkas_ made of reindeer skin, and one superb one of bird
feathers, _ramleikas_, and all manner of carved trinkets, the most
charming of which, to Ted's eyes, being a tiny _oomiak_ with an Esquimo
in it, made to be used as a breast-pin. This he bought for his mother,
and a carving of a baby for Judith; while his father made him and
Kalitan happy with presents.
"Where did you learn such English?" asked Mr. Strong of Alalik,
wondering, too, where she learned her pretty, modest ways, for Esquimo
women are commonly free and easy.
"I was for two years at the Mission at Holy Cross," she said. "There I
learned much that was good. Then my mother died, and I came home."
She spoke simply, and Mr. Strong wondered what would be the fate of this
sweet-faced girl.
"Did you learn to sew from the sisters?" asked Ted, who had been looking
at the garments she had made, in which the stitches, though made in
skins and sewn with deer sinew, were as even as though done with a
machine.
"Oh, no," she said. "We learn that at home. When I was no larger than
Zaksriner there, my mother taught me to braid thread from deer and whale
sinew, and we must sew very much in winter if we have anything to sell
when summer comes. It is very hard to get enough to live. Since the
Boston men come, our people waste the summer in idleness, so we have
nothing stored for the winter's food. Hundreds die and many sicknesses
come upon us. In the village where my people lived, in each house lay
the dead of what the Boston men called measles, and there were not left
enough living to bury the dead. Only we escaped, and a Black Gown came
from the Mission to help, and he took me and Antisarlook, my brother, to
the school. The rest came here, where we live very well because there
are in the summer, people who buy what we make in the winter."
"How do you get your skins so soft?" asked Ted, feeling the exquisite
texture of a bag she had just finished. It was a beautiful bit of work,
a tobacco-pouch or "Tee-rum-i-ute," made of reindeer skin, decorated
with beads and the soft creamy fur of the ermine in its summer hue.
"We scrape it a very long time and pull and rub," she said. "Plenty of
time for patience in winter."
"Your hands are too small and slim. I shouldn't think you could do much
with those stiff skins," said Teddy.
Alalik smiled at the compliment, and a little flush crept into the clear
olive of her skin. She was clean and neat, and the _eglu_, though close
from being shut up, was neater than most of the Esquimo houses. The bowl
filled with seal oil, which served as fire and light, was unlighted, and
Alalik's father motioned to her and said something in Innuit, to which
she smilingly replied:
"My father wishes you to eat with us," she said, and produced her flint
bag. In this were some wads of fibrous material used for wicks. Rolling
a piece of this in wood ashes, she held it between her thumb and a
flint, struck her steel against the stone, and sparks flew out which
lighted the fibre so that it burst into flame. This was thrown into the
bowl of oil, and she deftly began preparing tea. She served it in cups
of grass, and Ted thought he had never tasted anything nicer than the
cup of afternoon tea served in an _eglu_.
"Alalik, what were you singing as we came in?" asked Ted.
"A song my mother always sang to us," she replied. "It is called 'Ahmi,'
and is an Esquimo slumber song."
"Will you sing it now?" asked Mr. Strong, and she smiled in assent and
sang the quaint, crooning lullaby of her Esquimo mother--
"The wind blows over the Yukon.
My husband hunts the deer on the Koyukun Mountains,
Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, wake not.
Long since my husband departed. Why does he wait in the mountains?
Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, softly.
Where is my own?
Does he lie starving on the hillside? Why does he linger?
Comes he not soon, I will seek him among the mountains.
Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, sleep.
The crow has come laughing.
His beak is red, his eyes glisten, the false one.
'Thanks for a good meal to Kuskokala the Shaman.
On the sharp mountain quietly lies your husband.'
Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, wake not.
'Twenty deers' tongues tied to the pack on his shoulders;
Not a tongue in his mouth to call to his wife with,
Wolves, foxes, and ravens are fighting for morsels.
Tough and hard are the sinews, not so the child in your bosom.'
Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, wake not.
Over the mountains slowly staggers the hunter.
Two bucks' thighs on his shoulders with bladders of fat between them.
Twenty deers' tongues in his belt. Go, gather wood, old woman!
Off flew the crow, liar, cheat, and deceiver!
Wake, little sleeper, and call to your father.
He brings you back fat, marrow and venison fresh from the mountain.
Tired and worn, he has carved a toy of the deer's horn,
While he was sitting and waiting long for the deer on the hillside.
Wake, and see the crow hiding himself from the arrow,
Wake, little one, wake, for here is your father."
Thanking Alalik for the quaint song, sung in a sweet, touching voice,
they all took their departure, laden with purchases and delighted with
their visit.
"But you must not think this is a fair sample of Esquimo hut or Esquimo
life," said Mr. Strong to the boys. "These are near enough civilized to
show the best side of their race, but theirs must be a terrible
existence who are inland or on islands where no one ever comes, and
whose only idea of life is a constant struggle for food."
"I think I would rather be an American," remarked Ted, while Kalitan
said, briefly:
"I like Thlinkit."
FOOTNOTES:
[15] The _eglu_ is the Esquimo house. Often they occupy tents during the
summer, but return to the huts the first cool nights.