Kris

by J. J. Ruscella

  Over the lifetime to come, Pel would remain a loyal supporter and stalwart champion. His mysterious, almost magical, quality was born of his closeness to nature and the spirit of the world, for he was said to be a noiadi, wise man or shaman, by others in the village.

  At times when we were alone Pel taught me and offered to confide great secrets, if I would only remain patient and dedicated enough to learn. He spoke constantly of the reindeer, as he instructed me, and told me they shared the earth together. Shared the sky. Shared the spirit of the world.

  Every piece of the reindeer became a useful part of the life and spirit of the Sami people. Reindeer were important to their food supply, but they also were put to good use in hauling wood and building shelters, in working as beasts of burden to transport other heavy loads, and in the creation of garments to protect the Sami in this harsh and sometimes unforgiving environment.

  Pel showed me how the hides, hooves, bones, skulls, blood, and sinew of the reindeer served as sources for tools and utensils. These elements also were used in making drums and instruments that bridged the spaces between this world and the supernatural, through their ceremonial and mystical practices.

  One day during his teachings when we were alone beside a raging fire, Pel said, “You see many Sami. We move across the land like reindeer. We are the reindeer.”

  I remembered what I had said to him in anger on our first meeting, and I realized that I had been right; the hills and the trees did not belong to him. He belonged to them.

  The Sami village was made up of a hundred members, or perhaps a few beyond, of all ages, and each with something to contribute to the others and a job to complete. The village was a busy hive of activity necessary to sustain a nomadic lifestyle. They moved about to follow and herd the reindeer through different seasons. They hunted, fished, and collected the wild herbs and berries they desired. Pel and his people remained separated from the rest of the world.

  It was not unusual for them to have occasional contact with outsiders, as traders sometimes appeared and brought them cloth and tools, rare foods, or weapons and supplies, for which they exchanged dried reindeer meat, hides, antlers, carved bone knife handles, and the simple toy dolls made of sticks and straw that were wrapped and tied in pieces of torn cloth.

  Pel and his people moved with the seasons. They saw time as a spiritual entity and cyclical journey governed by changes in the visibility of the sun and moon, the weather, and the migration of the reindeer.

  The Sami people were an inseparable part of nature, like the animals they herded and hunted and lived among—reindeer, wolves, bears, birds, and fish.

  All living things were treated with respect because each had a spirit, just as we all do.

  The Sami had so many words for snow, I could never hope to master them all. Snow was named for its freshness, or its age. Its density. The way it fell upon the ice. Or melted and refroze. Or the sound it made as you walked over it, or as the reindeer hooves cut into it. Reindeer, too, were described in countless ways, based on their age or sex, their disposition, the shape and spread of their antlers, their size, strength, and speed, or the color of their coats. Each aspect of their nature and condition received a special name. As with the naming of the snow, I learned the reindeer had so many different names because they had so many different purposes and spirits.

  One afternoon I came upon Pel grinding reindeer antlers into a fine powder as he squatted next to a blazing fire. I sat near him and watched in silence. At times he looked up to point at me and laugh.

  I had grown accustomed to Pel’s laughter and cherished it. His laughter revealed his strength of spirit, his warm heart, and the humor he found in almost everything.

  When he finished his grinding, a large pile of powder lay before him and he let out a YAWP that startled me. Then he looked me in the eye.

  “This for you,” Pel said. “You stir this in reindeer milk. And drink. Two days. Then you have big love.” Then he laughed and laughed and whistled and sang in his native tongue.

  I was horribly embarrassed by his knowledge of my thoughts and desires and he enjoyed my discomfort immensely.

  “If it has not happened, it will. Soon enough. You do plan to make her a home?”

  I nodded in reply.

  “Good. I do not want to dislike you. I will make preparation.” He arose to walk away.

  Preparations for what? The wind whispered at the powdery mound and carried breaths of the powder off into the sky.

  “She lives in your home. Now is time.”

  What did he think could happen? With Gabriella living with us, Sarah was the safest maid in the village.

  “Will she have you?”

  I nodded in reply.

  “Have you asked her?” He stopped.

  “No.”

  He smacked me in the back of the head as he walked away.

  “Ask!”

  The memory of Josef brought tears to my eyes. Yes, of course, it was time. If she would have me.

  When I turned back to look for Pel, he was gone.

  Sarah was grinding nuts with a mortar and pestle when I entered the earth home. The loss of her family hung heavy on her. We were so occupied with surviving that memories of our past were more easily ignored. It was a blessing that her family had passed before the mob had come: otherwise, I believe the horror would have been more difficult for her to live with. They had said their good-byes, even though there is never enough time when the end comes for those you love.

  “Kris?” The way she said my name held all the care and compassion in its question. It was also delicious just to hear her speak it. Kris. Who thought my name was so glorious.

  Gabriella stepped from behind her, smiled, and lightly touched my arm as she walked past me out the door.

  We were alone.

  “Sarah.” I handed her a box I had carved from a white ash tree. She took it from my hands and sat down on a mound of reindeer pelts. She opened up the box. Inside was a strip of finely woven leather, and hanging from the leather was a piece of wood made up of consecutive circles that formed the most elaborate snowflake. There was never a break in the design, so it was impossible to tell where I had begun and where I had ended. It was the finest work I had ever created. It was the only thing I could think of giving. It was a connection to my past and my hope for the future.

  “I do not have anyone I can ask for your hand, so I ask you.”

  Then we kissed for the third time. But that is none of your concern. Within a week, before God, Gabriella, and our Sami people we announced our marriage. And it is still the best decision of my adult life.

  A reindeer dashed from among the trees and raced up a hillside, where it stood upon a large rock and stared down at me.

  Reindeer represented life for Pel and the Sami and served as undeniable evidence of the direct connection of the Sami people to nature. The Sami also excelled at hunting in the rugged terrain and fishing in the numerous frozen lakes and inland fjords.

  Pel showed me how his people followed the well-known paths of the reindeer migration, which were almost the same each year depending on the harshness of the weather or the quality of the grazing land available for the herd. He also demonstrated how each member of his village, according to their age and ability, assisted in herding and caring for the reindeer as they traveled across the wilderness and how they learned from experience as I was learning.

  When they traveled with the herds to grazing lands far away from their village, they would construct new portable homes, which they called laavu. These were made from large forked branches angled together in the shape of triangles, which supported each other. Other sticks, branches, and pieces of canvas or reindeer hide served as walls. A canvas sheet was hung as the doorway to these dwellings, whose floors also were covered with piles of hides and furs for comfort.

  When it was time for the herds to move again, the Sami harnessed the largest and most powerful reindeer to pull the sleds that carried the parts of their mov
eable homes and necessary supplies.

  Herding required a deep knowledge of the reindeer, including their ancestry, strengths, and capabilities, for it was these factors that helped to determined how the reindeer would serve the Sami people and how the Sami would engage with them.

  The animals often were allowed to roam as freely as they wished within some limits, though the Sami watched them closely through every season.

  In the same way Pel and his people were obligated to know the nature of the reindeer, they also were required to know the nature of the land and the weather and the conditions of the pastures and foraging areas they might cross and depend upon.

  Through every season Pel and his most trusted men would cull the herd and select reindeer that would supply their meat, those to be used for breeding, and those for work as draft animals. They regularly reviewed the size of the herd to be certain they could provide sustenance for the large number of reindeer they managed and all the people who were part of their ritual migration. They gave careful consideration to the lands they crossed and the conditions they faced, often speaking about these topics for hours at a time around a ceremonial fire.

  The seasons here were frequently harsh and challenging, but they also brought lush blessings to the Sami people. In the spring and in the summer, the herds would journey to lands nearer to the coast to benefit from robust grazing in the fertile grasslands. Food supplies not found inland during more severe weather and more punishing seasons of the year allowed time for the reindeer to gain size, weight, and muscle, and for the Sami to store food that could help them survive the long and hostile grip of winter.

  In the richer pastures, Pel and his people allowed the reindeer more freedom to roam and forage as they wished while watching them closely to be sure they did not stray too far or become separated from the herd.

  Pel gave me the task of looking after several prominent reindeer stags selected for mating in the rutting season. I followed them with the other men to be sure they did not break away from the herd or succumb to other dangers. They were considered of great value, for they would propagate the herd and assure its continuance. I was honored Pel had awarded me such a position of importance while allowing me to learn from the men I accompanied.

  May and June brought the promise of new life to the reindeer herd, as many calves were born and welcomed by the Sami people.

  Sarah and Gabriella helped other women and some of the younger men and children look after the calves, which were valued not only for qualities that would help to build a strong and lasting herd but for the nature of their soft coats, which could be used in the making of clothing. Only those calves that had lost a mother or were too weak to survive the harsh surroundings were taken from the herd.

  Occasionally, I spotted reindeer perched high upon the cliffs and on dangerous precipices and could not determine how they might have executed such a difficult ascent. When I ventured to discuss this with Pel, he took a long draught off his bone pipe and blew the smoke from it out into the air, wafting it on the breeze, as if to say the reindeer had crossed the sky as the smoke did.

  Summer also was the time of the midnight sun, when for seemingly endless days the sun would stay visible without pause, depending on the weather and the clarity of the sky. The sun’s unyielding glow, even while we slept, made many of us more irritable and often brought to surface our lesser qualities. Pel would sometimes throw handfuls of snow into the wind in an effort to chase the sun away in his ceremonial wish to have a shorter day.

  In the dawn of the autumn season, we began our journey back to the territory closer to Pel’s village. This was the time, as we moved farther from the sea, when we were most able to see the radiant dance of the magnificent northern lights rippling across the sky. Pel told me these colorful displays were blessings sent to signal good fortune ahead. They shimmered in airy flows of many colors, vibrant reds and greens with alternating waves and sprays of gold, blue, pink, and violet. They were said to be powerful spirits dancing in delight as they observed the goodness of the world.

  During one vivid display composed of shimmering curtains and waves of red and blue colored lights, Pel took us to the edge of a meadow. “The spirits talk to us,” he said as he pointed to the sky.

  “The colors are the same as your clothing,” Sarah said to Pel. He smiled at her and laughed softly.

  “They happy you are here,” he said to Sarah. “They want to give you long life. Many reindeer. And big love.”

  Sarah blushed and I blushed with her.

  Pel laughed and pointed back to the sky. “The colors dance with many riches,” he said. “We share with you. With everyone. These are our gifts.”

  “Can we somehow thank the spirits and the Sami people for these beautiful gifts?” I asked Pel.

  “They know your heart,” he said. “They say your heart is strong and will bring joy to many people.”

  Along our pathway home we collected and stored mushrooms, fresh berries, herbs, and plants that we would use to sustain ourselves throughout the winter months.

  Winter was a challenging time, and overseeing the herd became much harder. The reindeer wished to move about as freely as they had in milder seasons and in open grazing areas, but the unforgiving winter weather demanded we keep them near us for their safety and survival.

  Pel commanded his clever dog Enok to chase the straying reindeer when they began to wander off and redirect them toward the herd. Enok was a massive dog that more resembled a bear than a canine, but he could run swiftly and maneuver better than many of the reindeer. His powerful authority helped to keep the herd close and well contained on the journey home.

  If a reindeer strayed too far from the herd or refused to return at his urging, Enok would leap into the air and wrestle the reindeer down to the ground, holding it there with his powerful jaws until it relented or was captured by the Sami herders.

  One day I asked Pel how Enok had come to be a member of his family, and told him I was curious about the meaning of his name.

  Pel looked at me and flashed his infectious smile and said, “One day trader come, bring many dog to chase reindeer.”

  Then he lit his pipe and took several long draughts of the aromatic smoke that he released to the sky before he continued.

  “Trader tell me Enok fast dog. Strong dog. He say Enok run like bear. And when he jump on you, Enok you over.”

  Severe winter was hard for both the people and the reindeer. We lived in almost total darkness, as the sun did not appear in the sky at all except to sneak a little closer to the horizon, where it leaked a bit of twilight for brief periods each day.

  The reindeer survived on the lichens they would dig up from beneath the snow, and we lived on our stores and reindeer, fish, and other animals that could be hunted or trapped. Pel and his people often conducted ceremonial activities to honor the spirits of the plants and animals that sustained them.

  When the heavy snows began to fall again, we found it somewhat easier to follow the herd due to the well-defined hoof prints the reindeer would leave as they wandered.

  The great challenges of winter brought the herd always closer together, just as it brought Pel’s people together. It was the time of mating and “big love,” as Pel would tell me with an air of seriousness and a hint of laughter.

  It also was the time when wolves would follow and stalk the herd as it traveled and foraged.

  When the harsh winter closed in upon us, the wolves became more prominent, and they searched for weak calves or strays to attack and feast upon.

  As we drew closer to Pel’s village, the weather grew much more punishing and the wolves sensed we would now be all the more vulnerable. They stalked us relentlessly and began to attack the herd whenever they could. Pel could feel the fear of his people. He rallied several of his best hunters to defend the herd, but even they were not enough to stop the attacks once the wolves decided they were ready.

  Wolves ran at the reindeer from many directions, frightening t
hem and causing them to scatter. Pel’s men tried to contain the reindeer and chase away the wolves, but the wolves were too numerous and too threatening in their persistent and savage assaults.

  As one reindeer fell, Pel charged the attacking wolf, trying to drive it away or kill it. Other wolves moved in, and one leapt at Pel, knocking him to the ground. I ran to his assistance and struck the wolf many times with my staff, forcing it to back away, so Pel could escape. Then more wolves began to surround us. We held them off with our staves, knives drawn, as they circled us, snarling, preparing to attack.

  Another wolf lunged. Enok charged the savage animal and grabbed it by the throat, throwing it to the ground and snapping its neck. More men raced to our aid, and we were able to force the wolves to retreat into the woods. But we knew they would continue to follow us and wait for another opportunity to score a fresh kill. We could feel their eyes always upon us.

  Pel sent the women and children ahead to the village on the sleds. Several of the men accompanied them to provide protection.

  Pel skinned the wolf Enok had killed and gave Enok the victor’s prize of fresh meat to reward his heroism.

  We traveled later that night when the snow was solid and easier for the reindeer to cross, and in time we approached the village compound, which the earlier arrivals were preparing for the celebration of our safe journey home.

  The reindeer were herded nearer to the village huts and watched constantly to prevent another attack by wolves. Pel told me the wolves were frightened to approach the village, so he felt we would be safe from further intrusion.

  He also showed me the large stone pits that had been sunk into the ground and hidden to trap encroaching wolves. The pits were positioned in strategic places around the village, deep enough and large enough to prevent a wolf’s escape once he was trapped. The pits were covered with branches to disguise them. The intestines of small animals or other bits of food were placed in the center of the covering to lure the wolves. When a wolf approached and tried to claim the food, he would fall through the leaves and branches into the pit, where he might be captured or impaled on sharp sticks lining the bottom of the pit.