The Calling

by Ken Altabef

  The shaman struck Alaana forcefully across the face. In her dream-like state the slap felt like innumerable sparks splashing her cheek, droplets of water that fizzled but didn’t really hurt.

  Alaana’s eyes flew open. She drew in a sharp breath that was surprisingly biting and chill. There was a little bit of snow in the air. She breathed it in and out.

  “That was good, for your first time,” mused Old Manatook. “Your spirit left your body completely, if only for a moment. And needing a considerable nudge.”

  Suddenly Alaana’s cheek flushed hot where she’d been struck. She cast off the daze engendered by her dream of snow and returned her attention to her teacher. As Old Manatook’s face came into focus, she realized his beard looked not so different in color and texture as the snow.

  “Now let’s take these tents down. If we hurry back, you may yet have some free time to play with your friends before nightfall.”

  Alaana returned to the Anatatook camp just in time to meet the arrival of her father and brother. Four days earlier they’d traveled to visit the bands to the south in hopes of finding a wife for Maguan. Now their sled made its triumphant return, pulling into the village in spectacular fashion, hauled by a fan of eight dogs.

  In order to give the best impression possible to his new southern relations Kigiuna had borrowed extra dogs from his brother Anaktuvik’s team. As he tramped alongside the sled, the slump of her father’s shoulders spoke of the rigors of the soft trail. In spring, the runner tips caught in the snow at every rise or dip in the drifts and had to be hacked free and heaved along, making such a long journey exhausting.

  Kigiuna looked upon the camp with a satisfied gleam in his weary eye. A grin parted his lips as the Anatatook came racing out to meet the sled.

  Maguan, who had been riding alongside his new bride, jumped down and took up the lead trace at the front of the sled. He made a silly show of pulling the sled as if the dogs were not strong enough to tow it in. By this he meant his new wife was so heavy the team needed help to bring her to the village. It was an old joke, but it seemed particularly funny to Alaana as her brother was so skinny he could hardly be helping the dogs at all. In truth the sled was less heavy than it had been when they’d set out, loaded down with trade goods at the onset of the journey.

  Alaana ran up close to the sled, dodging the big wheel dogs at the edge of the fan. She was eager to get a glimpse of Maguan’s prize.

  “Go! Get out of the way!” Maguan laughed. “A man is driving his new wife home.” Although he had seen twenty winters, Maguan still wore his hair in a short boyish style. A scanty mustache grew only at the corners of his mouth, dangling at the edges of his smile. That smile was so vigorous and frequent it caused his cheeks to always appear full and his eyes narrow, but Alaana had never seen him as happy as he was just now.

  A small crowd turned out to greet the sled, Alaana’s other brother Itoriksak among them. Her mother was conspicuously absent. Many congratulatory claps fell on Kigiuna’s broad shoulder. He shook them off and started unharnessing the team, taking particular care with his brother’s dogs. Usually this chore fell to Maguan but Kigiuna took on the task so that his son could bask for a few moments in the admiration, smiles and well-wishes of the Anatatook.

  Maguan announced his new wife as Pilarqaq, who came to them from the southerly band called the Tanaina.

  Kigiuna suggested that Alaana and Itoriksak should be helping him and not gawking like they’d never seen a woman before. As she unlaced the straps, Alaana snatched a few stolen glances at the bride. Pilarqaq was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Her broad cheeks held a rosy glow and her face was so wonderfully flat it seemed as if she had no nose at all, especially when viewed from the side. Alaana’s heart raced. Her brother must be so happy. Pilarqaq was a miracle of feminine beauty, especially her long black hair which swept down over each shoulder in a glossy cascade. She wore a fancy parka laced with squirrel fur tassels that swayed with her every movement. Maguan’s jest had not been too much of an exaggeration after all. His new wife was plump and very full-bodied, a sure sign that she came from a good family.

  Alaana smiled contentedly as she led a pair of huskies toward Anaktuvik’s kennel. She was amazed that Maguan had wound up with such a perfect bride. Because of the hunger times of past years, the mothers had not been able to keep all their girl-children and there were few young women among the Anatatook. Most men had to wait a long time to get a wife. She thought it almost impossible that such a beautiful woman could be unmarried and that her family would be willing to part with her. Things must have been better among the Tanaina. Credit fell squarely on her father’s shoulders. Kigiuna had a solid reputation among the other bands.

  Upon entering her new family’s tent for the first time Pilarqaq looked askance at the floor of the natiq, the eating and living area in front of the sleeping platform. Alaana had never inspected it too closely before, but now she realized the gravel was strewn with discarded bones, frozen bits of fish entrails, cast-off scraps of shaved antler from her father’s carvings and splotches of mud they had all carelessly dragged in.

  Amauraq noticed the young bride’s discontentment. “Don’t you use gravel in the south?” she asked indignantly. “Maybe it’s a little warmer there, but it cuts the cold against the soles of our feet.”

  “Yes, we do,” replied Pilarqaq quietly.

  “Then… what?” asked Amauraq with a somewhat harsh, cutting tone. “I’m very busy here — I have to do all the sewing for my husband and children. Perhaps you’ll have enough time to clean up the floor more often.”

  Pilarqaq nodded, her plump lips pouting in barely disguised resentment.

  Amauraq brushed her hand along the top of her head, smoothing her hair. The movement was entirely unnecessary as she wore her hair drawn tightly back and draped over one shoulder in a long black tail. The style made her prominent ears seem even larger.

  “You have lovely hair,” she said to Pilarqaq. She proceeded to show her new daughter the soapstone lamp at the far side of the tent, which she would be taking care of from now on.

  “We didn’t put up much seal oil this year, so don’t run the lamp at night,” Amauraq said. “The men are warm enough. You know how to light it don’t you?”

  “Yes, Mother,” returned Pilarqaq in a dry tone.

  Amauraq showed her how to adjust the flow. “I use a little stick to open and close the wick, depending on how much of a flame is needed.”

  Pilarqaq indicated she was well-used to the process.

  “I’m sure with enough practice you’ll get used to it,” Amauraq continued. “And we don’t run the lamp too often in winter either. Kigiuna dislikes a wet iglu. He gets annoyed if the dome starts to melt and drip down onto his neck and clothes. Of course when you have your own place you may do as you wish, but Maguan is much the same.”

  Although she took pains to try to hide it, Pilarqaq was clearly uncomfortable under this barrage. Worry started to show at the corners of her mouth. Amauraq made matters worse when she tried to demonstrate the proper way to set up Pilarqaq’s utensils on her side of the cooking area. Pilarqaq didn’t have many cooking things of her own — only one pathetic soapstone teakettle, too small for family use and with two sizable cracks in it.

  “Of course you are free to do as you wish,” added Amauraq, “but I have a certain way of arranging it. It’s what we’re all accustomed to.”

  “Enough,” said Kigiuna. ”How about we eat? We’ve traveled far and we’re all hungry.” The emphasis he placed on the word ‘all’ made it obvious he meant to include Maguan’s new wife as one of those needing comfort. Already he was showing fatherliness toward her. As everything else, he did this with characteristic intensity, making it clear he accepted Pilarqaq as his daughter in a profoundly genuine sense with nothing more than a smile and nod of his head.

  Alaana felt the awkwardness of the situation begin to melt away. As always Kigiuna generated considerable warmth inside the ten
t, far in excess of his body heat alone. He playfully mussed his second son’s hair, saying, “Itoriksak, run and fetch some water for the tea.”

  They had caught a pair of stray seal pups on the way up from the south and Maguan brought one in. He lay the fat, glistening carcass atop an old sealskin mat for the cutting. Kigiuna sat down on the sleeping bench. He closed his eyes rather than be pestered with questions regarding their trip, but Maguan talked excitedly while he butchered the seal. He told of the places they had traveled, the hardships along the way and everything they had learned about Pilarqaq’s family.

  Amauraq served tea and Kigiuna came to life with a few sips of the steaming brew. With a satisfied nod he turned to Pilarqaq, passed the ladle to her and formalized her acceptance into the family, saying, “Our daughter, have some tea.”

  “I apologize if the tea seems weak,” said Maguan. “We’ve been using these same leaves since winter. Now that we’re settled in here for a while, I’ll show you a place a little way inland where you can go to collect some more.”

  “Itoriksak will show her,” said Kigiuna matter-of-factly, “I’ll need your help mending and setting the nets tomorrow. With the salmon already gone past, we have to act quickly or we won’t have any tomcod this year.”

  Maguan nodded his assent, placing the seal liver on a flat stone at the foot of the ikliq.

  Amauraq handed a blade to Pilarqaq. “You can borrow my knife,” she said, placing an unwelcome twist on the word ‘borrow’. Alaana had never heard such unfriendliness in her mother’s voice before. Kigiuna said nothing, but seemed mildly amused by it.

  With great concentration Pilarqaq cut the liver into even little slices. Alaana felt sorry for her. The poor thing’s hand shook as she worked, struggling against that certain type of apprehension only the watchful eyes of a marriage-mother could cause. As she finished the task a deep blush spread across her broad, wonderful cheeks. Alaana realized this was the first time she was playing hostess as a married woman.

  “Will you please have some portion of this seal my husband was able to catch?” she said politely. “It’s not much.”

  This was false humility only; everyone knew it was a fine seal. She held the first piece, freshly pink and dripping, toward Amauraq.

  Amauraq’s face darkened as she slapped the piece of meat aside. “Stupid girl! Is this how they act in the south, without any manners at all? My husband shall have the first slice.”

  Alaana saw Pilarqaq’s crushed expression, her eyes bulging wide as tears came into them, poised to run in a torrent down her cheeks.

  “Enough!” said Kigiuna with a sharp glare at his wife. “Enough chatter, enough nonsense. Enough. Let’s eat quietly and lay down to sleep.”

  As the sun lingered above the horizon for much of the night, there was still considerable light as they went to bed, even with the lamps both turned out. Kigiuna, seated on the platform, struggled with his mukluks, legs crossed, stepping down with his left foot while he yanked at his right boot with both hands. After such a long journey the wet hide seemed to have attached itself permanently to his feet. He called Amauraq over. “Come pull my boots off.”

  His pants came down next but instead of simply dropping his parka to the floor as usual, he had devised a new method of getting undressed, perhaps in deference to Maguan’s wife. He stood up quickly, bending over so that the parka fell off to the front, covering his private parts from sight. With the same motion he swept the sleeping fur across his body and pulled his shirt over his head. An instant later he lay swaddled in the furs and ready for bed, grinning happily, and Pilarqaq had not seen a thing.

  Alaana laughed, then turned away and wriggled out of her clothes. It was going to take some time to get used to the new order of things.

  Making a pillow of his rolled-up parka, Kigiuna took up his sleeping position along the far side of the ikliq. In most households the wife occupied that spot, closest to the chill of the tent wall, leaving the man in a more snug central location. But as Amauraq was particularly susceptible to cold in the night Kigiuna assumed the significantly less pleasant position. It was a genuine display of kindness, Alaana thought, though her father made sure to remind Amauraq of his generosity at every turn. The rest of the family took their positions, Alaana directly beside her mother, then the empty space where Avalaaqiaq used to lay, then Itoriksak and Maguan, and Pilarqaq along the farthest tent flap.

  Just as they were getting comfortable Kigiuna asked if Pilarqaq needed to pee. Her father nudged Alaana with an elbow. Naked, she wriggled out of the cozy furs, crossed the room with her hands clasped over her privates, and dashed outside. The frigid air tore at her skin as she snatched the sealskin basin from the entranceway.

  They passed the basin in order down the line, under the furs, and Alaana tried not to listen while Maguan’s wife passed her water.

  As she snuggled into the warmth of the bedclothes, a sense of contentment and familiar routine settled over Alaana, washing away all troubling thoughts of spirits, ghosts and cranky shamans.

  “Sleep time,” said Kigiuna at last. From the way he said it Alaana guessed he had recovered some of his lost energy. Sure enough, mother turned and tucked the caribou hide around Alaana to separate her from her parents while they were cuddling.

  Alaana turned away, toward the empty place. Her thoughts went to her missing sister. She ignored what her parents were doing but wondered if Maguan was doing the same thing with his beautiful new wife. She couldn’t help herself and listened, but didn’t hear anything. What would it be like, she wondered, to sleep next to someone so strange and new?

  CHAPTER 8

  TIME UNBOUND

  The next day Alaana and her teacher trudged in silence again to the far place out on the tundra. Old Manatook’s huge huskie Makaartunghak pulled a small one-man sled loaded down with the tent poles and tarp.

  “This is important,” said Old Manatook. “The mind is all. The body is nothing. All that we accomplish we do with the mind.”

  The fierce glow in his eye spoke to Alaana as sharply as the shaman’s slap of the day before.

  “Liberated from the body, there is no place, no time, no lengths to which the mind can not go,” said Old Manatook. “The drum and the rattle, the breathing and the chanting — these are merely tools with which to alter your way of mind. We use the body to liberate the spirit. It’s not difficult once you know the way.

  “But to heal,” said Old Manatook, waving a finger in the air, “To heal, we must meet the minds of others. That is the difficult thing.”

  Alaana was overwhelmed. Her teacher was moving way too fast, speaking too many new words she didn’t yet understand. “Way of mind…?”

  “Hmmf,” spouted Old Manatook with a pained expression on his face. “Lost you all the way back there, eh?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Alaana sincerely.

  “You shouldn’t be. Perhaps I lack the skills for teaching the young. I know for certain I’ve not the patience for it. Give me instead a raging storm to quell, or a herd of caribou to be lured to the hunt.” The shaman stopped walking. He treated himself to a pair of deep, cleansing breaths during which his long face sagged even longer and his beard drooped and drew itself up again. Finally, as the clouded breath parted from his lips, he nodded in resolution. “Not easy for either of us. Still, it must be done. Way of mind, I suppose, means a way the mind works. No, better, it’s a place the mind can travel. The body knows only one place.” At this the old shaman kicked some loose snow up at Alaana.

  “You exist. You walk on the ice and snow, you eat and drink, you touch another person. All of that is what we call ijiq, that which exists. Reality. The reality of the body.

  “But there is more than one reality. You already know this. You see with your eyes, you hear with your ears that which others can not. You see the sparkle of the soul-lights, you hear the whispers of the dead. These things also do exist, but they exist in a different reality.”

  “Day and night,” said
Alaana, “They don’t leave me alone.”

  “And they won’t.” The old shaman’s eyes flashed. “The lost and lonely will always cry out to anyone who may hear. We must listen and help where we can.” He called out to the dog and they resumed their trek.

  “I wish things would go back to the way they were before,” said Alaana.

  “Yes,” replied Old Manatook, indulging his student’s fantasy, “And I would have Kuanak and Civiliaq at my side when the bad times come again.”

  “Fine,” said Alaana, taking no insult. “And the sky would be normal again.”

  “What’s this about the sky?”

  “It looks all wrong now,” replied Alaana. “It’s the sun. The sun looks as if it doesn’t belong.”

  “Hmmf. A ball of fire in the sky? Many’s the time I’ve thought the same. It doesn’t belong, but that’s a mystery to which I have found none who could give answer. Perhaps when you go traveling the hidden pathways, it may one day be revealed. But those are places where your body can not go, which brings us back to the matter at hand. Only the unfettered mind can walk the shadowy lands of the dead, or visit the great turgats in their ethereal palaces, wander the chill bottom of the sea, or visit with the Moon Man up in the sky.”

  Alaana felt oddly reassured to learn her teacher didn’t have an answer to the riddle of the sun. At least there was something he didn’t know. And she was impressed at how easily he admitted his ignorance to her. She couldn’t imagine he would have revealed such a thing to anyone else. Clearly, her status had changed.

  “Hoo!” called the shaman, stopping his dog. He bent to the sled and swept the tent poles aside. “Sit!”

  Alaana, feeling just a little resentful being spoken to as one of the dogs, settled herself on the sled. The old man crashed down beside her.