Alaska (14 page)

Unfortunately, at just this moment in their declining fortunes their revered sage, an old man of thirty-seven, fell so ill that he was unable to guide them, and things fell into drift, with important decisions either delayed or ignored. For example, the group had in its enforced wanderings settled temporarily in the desirable area south on the peninsula which had formed the westernmost tip of Alaska in those thousands of years when rising oceans had obliterated the land bridge.

85

Now, of course, with the bridge exposed, there was no ocean within three hundred miles of the region, but instead, there was a natural resource even more copious and varied in its richness, and upon this largesse the group subsisted.

For reasons which have never been explained and perhaps never will be, in this period around twelve thousand years before the present, the wildlife of Alaska, and elsewhere across the earth, proliferated at a rate hitherto unknown. Not only were the species of animals extraordinarily rich in variety, but the numbers of the animals were almost excessive, and what was most inexplicable, they were invariably much, much bigger than their later descendants. Beavers were immense. Bison were like shaggy monuments.

Moose towered in the air, with antlers bigger than some trees, and the shaggy musk ox was staggering in size. It was a time when great animals defined the age and when men were fortunate to live among them, for to bring down even one of these beasts meant that meat was ensured for many months to come.

Predominant as in the time of Varnak the Hunter were the mammoths, largest of the animals and still by far the most majestic. In the fifteen thousand years since Varnak had tracked Matriarch without succeeding in killing her, the mammoths had increased both in size and number, so that the area occupied by this group of Eskimos had so many of the huge creatures that any boy growing up along the eastern end of this land bridge had to become familiar with them. He would not see them every day, or even every month, but he would know that they, along with the huge bears and the crafty lions, were out there.

Such a boy was Azazruk, seventeen years old, tall for his age and Asian in every item of his appearance. His hair was a deeper black, his skin a browner yellow, his eyes more sharply narrow, his arms longer than those of his companions. That his ancestors had originated among the Mongols of Asia, there could be no doubt. He was the son of the old man who was dying, and it had been his father's hope that the boy would mature into the leadership he had exercised, but year by year it had become apparent that this was not to be and while the father never berated his son for this deficiency, he could not hide his disappointment.

In fact, with the most hopeful intentions, the old man failed to identify any area in which his son could contribute to the clan. He could not hunt; he was unskilled at flicking sharp arrow points from cores of flint; and he showed no aptitude in leading men into battle against their oppressors. He did have a strong voice when he wanted to use it, so that leadership during discussions might have been possible, but

86

he preferred to speak so softly that sometimes he seemed almost feminine. Yet he was a good young man, and both his father and the community at large knew it. The important question was: How would he exercise this goodness if a crisis demanded that he do so?

His father, a wise man, had seen that very few men who lived a normal life escaped the great testing moments. Born leaders, like himself, encountered them constantly, and in tracking animals or building huts or deciding where to lead the clan next, their decisions were held up to judgment by their peers. That was the burden of leadership which justified the privileges. But he had also observed that the average man, the one not remotely qualified for leadership, also faced these moments when all hung in the balance. Then a man had to act swiftly, without time for meticulous consideration or a careful calculation of possibilities. The mammoth pursued in a hunt turned unexpectedly, and someone had to confront it. The kayak upset in river turbulence, and when the paddler tried to right it in the ordinary way by increasing the speed of its toppling, a rock intervened, and then what? A man who did his best to avoid any unpleasantness was suddenly faced by a bully. Nor were women exempt from this requirement of instant judgment: A baby started from the womb in an upside-down condition, and what did the older women do? A growing girl refused to menstruate, and how should that be handled?

Since life within the ice castle of Alaska presented human beings with constant challenges, Azazruk by the age of seventeen should have developed clearly defined characteristics, but he had not, and his dying father could not guess what his son's future would be.

On a day in late spring when by ill chance Athabascans from the areas to the north made a sortie against the clan, the old man lay dying. His son was with him and not with the warriors who were rather futilely trying to protect their holdings, and as death neared, the father whispered: 'Azazruk, you must lead our people to a safe home,' and before the boy could respond or even let his father know that he had heard this command, death resolved the old man's apprehensions.

It was not a big fight that day, merely a continuation of the pressure the Athapascans exerted on all Eskimos regardless of where they settled, but when it coincided with the death of their longtime leader, it did confuse the clan, and the bewildered men sat before their huts in the spring evening wondering what to do. No one, and especially not those who had fought, looked to Azazruk for guidance or even sugges-87

tions. So he was left alone. Facing the mystery of death, and pondering his father's last words, he left the village and wandered away until he came to a stream which flowed down from the glacier to the east.

There as he tried to unravel the thoughts which tumbled through his head, he chanced to look down at the stream, and he saw that it was almost white because it carried myriad bits of stone flaked from rocks at the face of the glacier, and for some time he marveled at this whiteness, wondering if it represented some kind of omen. As he pondered this possibility, he saw protruding from the black mud that formed the bank of the river a curious object, golden in color and shining, and when he stooped to rescue it from the mud he saw that it was a small piece of ivory about the size of two fingers. Possibly it had broken off from some mammoth tusk or been brought inland from a walrus hunt ages ago, but what made it remarkable, even in those first moments when Azazruk held it in his hand, was that either by chance or the work of some long-dead artist, the ivory represented a living thing, perhaps a man, perhaps an animal. It had no head, but there was a torso, a joining of legs and one clearly defined hand or paw.

Turning the object this way and that in the fading light, Azazruk was astounded by the reality of this piece: it was ivory, of that he was certain, but it was also something living, and to possess such a thing created in the young man a sense of awe, of challenge and purpose. He could not believe that the finding of this lively little creature on the precise day of his father's death, when his clan was in confusion, could be an accident. He realized that the person whom the great spirits had led to this omen was destined for some significant task, and in this moment of discovery he decided to keep his find a secret. The figure was small enough to be hidden within the twist of deerskin he wore, and there it would remain until the spirits who had sent it revealed their intentions.

Then, just as he was about to leave the stream whose turbulent waters were still as white as the milk of a musk ox, he was halted by a choir of voices, and he knew the sounds emanated from the spirits who had sent him the ivory figurine and who watched over the fortunes of his clan. The voices announced in a beautiful whispering harmony which only he could have heard: 'You are to be the shaman.' And they sang no more.

A message like this, which might have produced tumults of joy in the heart of any ordinary Eskimo, since it would mean authority and constant intercourse with the spirits who controlled life, caused Azazruk only consternation. From his 88

earliest days his sagacious father had found himself opposed to the various shamans who had been associated with his clan; he respected their unique powers and acknowledged the fact that he and his people had to rely upon their guidance in spiritual matters, but he resented their constant intrusion upon his day-to-day prerogatives. He had warned his son: 'Stay clear of the shamans. Obey their instructions in all matters concerning the spirits, but otherwise ignore them.' The old man was especially disgusted by the slovenly habits of the shamans and the filthy skins and matted hair in which they performed their mysteries and rendered their judgments: 'A man doesn't have to stink in order to be wise.' And the boy had had numerous opportunities to witness the justice of his father's strictures.

Once when Azazruk was ten, a scrawny Eskimo from the north had attached himself to the clan, proclaiming arrogantly that he was a shaman and offering to take the place of a wise man who had died. The deceased shaman had been somewhat better than average, so the inadequacy of the upstart miracle worker became quickly evident. He brought no mammoths or bears to the hunting areas, no male babies to the birthing beds. The general spirit of the village was neither improved nor mended, and Azazruk's father had used the unfortunate example of this inadequate man to condemn all shamans: 'My mother taught me they were essential, and I still believe it. How could we live with spirits who might attack us if we did not have their protection? But I do wish the shamans could live in the spruce forest and protect us from there.'

But now as Azazruk stood with the ivory figure hidden against his belly and heard the tumbling brook beside him, he began to suspect that his new found treasure had been sent by the spirits to ratify their decision that he, Azazruk, was destined to be the shaman his people needed. He shivered at the implication and tried to dismiss it because of the heavy responsibility such a position entailed; he even contemplated throwing the unwelcome emissary back into the stream, but when he took the ivory from his waist and started to do so, the little creature seemed to be smiling at him, face or no face. And the unseen smile was so warm and congenial that Azazruk, tormented though he was by his father's death and these strange happenings, had to chuckle and then to laugh and finally to leap in the air in a kind of manic joy.

He acknowledged then that he had been called, or perhaps commanded, to serve as shaman to his clan, and in this moment of spiritual acceptance of his obligation, the spirits showed their approval by causing a miracle to happen.

89

From the aspen trees lining the magical stream came a lonely rogue mammoth, not of exceptional size but huge in the evening shadows, and when it saw Azazruk it did not halt or shy away; instead it came forward, oblivious of the fact that it was inviting peril. When it reached a spot not four body lengths away, it stopped, looked at Azazruk, and remained rooted in place, its monstrous feet sinking slightly into the soft soil, and there it stayed, cropping aspen and willow leaves as if the Eskimo did not exist.

Slowly Azazruk withdrew, a step at a time, until he was well clear of the trees and the stream. Then, in a kind of mystical trance, he walked solemnly back to his village, where women were preparing his father for burial, and when various men, impressed by his grave mien, came to attention, he announced in sober tones: 'I have brought you a mammoth,' and the hunt was on. Four days later when, because of his ardent assurances to the men, they fought the great beast and killed it, the village realized that at the moment of his father's death that good man's spirit had passed into the body of his son, who predicted that the rogue mammoth would run east for two days after the first stabbings and come back the last two, seeking familiar haunts in which to d
ie.
Indeed, the creature returned to within a short walk of where Azazruk had found him, so that when he died his hulking carcass lay almost in the spot where it would be consumed. 'Azazruk has power over animals,' the men and women said as they butchered the mammoth and feasted on the rich meat.

And he seemed to have just that, for two weeks later when one of the village men was attacked by a pair of lionesses and badly clawed about the neck, everyone assumed that the man must die, for it was known that lions had so much poison in their claws that death was never escaped. However, this time Azazruk had run out, driven away the lionesses, and proceeded immediately to poultice the bleeding wound with leaves growing low in the forest and with moss, and the villagers were astounded to see the stricken man soon walking about and twisting his neck as if nothing had happened.

WHEN AZAZRUK ASSUMED SPIRITUAL LEADERSHIP HE made two innovations which consolidated his control and made him more acceptable to his people than any other shaman within memory. He refused, utterly and with visible moral force, to accept any responsibility for military, governmental or foraging duties; he pointed out repeatedly that they were the prerogative of the leader, a daring, tested man of 90

twenty-two and one for whom Azazruk had great respect. This man was brave, had a wide knowledge of animal habits, and asked no one to do what he himself was not prepared to do first. Under his leadership the clan could expect to protect itself at least as well as before, perhaps even better.

Second, Azazruk established practices that had never been tried before among his people. He saw no necessity for a shaman to live apart from others, and certainly no need to be filthy or unkempt. He continued to occupy his father's hut a place half underground, half wood and stone above and there he cared for his caribou trousers, his sealskin cloak. He made himself available to people with problems, and he especially attended to children in order to get them started in proper directions. Specifically, he assigned them tasks: girls were expected to be able to handle the skins of animals and the bones of mammoths and reindeer; boys were required to learn about hunting and the construction of implements used in the chase. He wanted the tribe to have a skilled flintknapper, another who knew about the handling of fire, another clever in the tracking of animals.