Feminist Folktales

Since the 1700s, young Eskimo girls have spent hours every day telling each other stories by illustrating the tales by drawing pictures with storyknives. The storyknife has an ivory handle and blade and is etched with scrimshaw pictures such as fish, seals, and polar bears native to the land.

Playing storyknife is bound by rules like all games. Several girls sit in a circle. They smooth a small patch of mud or snow between them with their storyknife.

The girl telling the first story begins by sketching a floor plan of an Eskimo home with her storyknife, setting the stage for the drama. Next she draws the characters using stick figures as they arrive on the scene. Characters cannot speak or act until they have been drawn and must be erased when they leave the scene. When the first girl has finished her tale, another immediately begins sketching her story.

Traditionally, the game is played only by girls. It provides a creative outlet and is a way for them to work through their made-up dramas and learn the moral and practical lessons. It is essential to Eskimo life and customs that are taught to them by their mothers.

With her head wreathed in frost and the pent-up energy of spring, eleven-year-old Meeka set out on foot to lead the reindeer across the Arctic tundra. The women reindeer herders were moving their herds across the tundra so they could graze and fatten, some to be harnessed to sleds to pull not oversized loads, but fair loads. Herding meant keeping on the move throughout the year to search out good grazing, the reindeer meat and skins replacing the years of the shrinking whale harvests.

Meeka collected moss and heather along the way. She has kinship ties with the reindeer. She is from another land, not this one, now a young girl on the verge of womanhood. She expresses her needs, talks about her worthiness, asks for cooperation, and prays for survival. Her safety was an issue for her mother before she was even out of the womb. The only way humans and animals have for learning to abandon fear is to leave the frightening situation altogether.

Meeka took from the pocket of her reindeer fur coat, a piece of raw, frozen reindeer dipped in mustard sauce. At the heart of traditional nomad life near the Arctic Circle, Woman and Reindeer become almost related. Reindeer, also called caribou, are everything to these women reindeer herders as they are food, clothing, shelter, and transportation.

Storyknife fascinates Meeka, but because she isn't originally from this land, she doesn't own a storyknife, didn't even know the game of storyknife existed before coming to this new land. To be able to be in the game and tell a story, a girl has to own one of the prized storyknives. You can only get one from one of the women ivory carvers and there aren't too many, but Meeka knew just where there was an Eskimo woman who carved ivory. She just followed her nose to those remembered currents of air where she recalled the smell of rank air from a-day-old nanook slaughter, nanook being the Eskimo word for polar bear.

"There are many stories...twelve-thousand hooves worth, tucked in behind their muscled flanks," Meeka said, and she knew every one of them, steam rising from their dun-colored backs.

"The way you tell it child, that's three-thousand stories. Nanook hunters and reindeer herders are special people. We just want to be who we are," the Eskimo woman said.

It is true. These people live in a totally different dimension and follow ancient ancestral teachings of hunting and herding. They have hung on to tradition. That is how they survive the modern era.

When the scientists and environmentalists ask the Eskimo woman, "How many in the polar bear population, how many do you have?" she replies, "We do not have figures, but we know the pattern. For thousands of years, our people have known the pattern, no numbers, but we know."

She can't understand why they won't accept that knowledge and spend millions on polar bear studies. "It's just part of the cycle, the thousand-year cycle," she says. What the scientists call global warming, she calls the "thousand-year cycle," why her sled dogs got their new fur in February, months later than usual. "Are you lost, reindeer child?"

"No, I am not lost...I am found. Because I am worthy of one, I have come to ask you to carve me a storyknife. I have prayed for this storyknife and my desire for one is so keen."

"Yes I have a story to tell," Meeka replied. "I have this soapstone with grooved edges. I have moss and heather for a wick to be laid into the grooves cut into the rim and I have seal blubber when melted makes oil to feed the wick to make light. Will you take this bowl of soapstone and use it for a lamp in trade for a storyknife?"

"Let me see this simple light," the Eskimo woman said, curious to see if it would make enough heat to cook her raw bear meat. The term Eskimo was coined from the American Indians meaning "eaters of raw flesh." Frequently unable to cook their food while traveling during the winter, Eskimos are accustomed to eating uncooked meat and raw fish. "Can we light it up?" the Eskimo woman asked.

Where did you get this, reindeer child?" the Eskimo woman asked, fascinated with the seal-blubber lamp melting the blubber and the oil floating the sawtooth piece of moss wick after Meeka lit it with a match that was as precious as the soapstone, both the match and the soapstone making the long journey with Meeka and her mother from their homeland to this new polar land.

"From a sea-faring whaler woman who carved soapstone from inside the far top of a lighthouse. Clay and firewood is scarce in my homeland, so they carve soapstone lamps for light and to heat meat and fish."

The Eskimo woman digested the warm chunk of nanook. "On the seventh day, my cold world is created from the warmth of this bowl you call soapstone. I have a piece of walrus tusk and I will work it every night for seven days by the light of this lamp with enthusiasm for the reindeer child who says she has a story to tell. What do you want carved on the handle and engraved in scrimshaw on the blade, reindeer child?"

"A seal," Meeka replied, then she was off to Brigade Twelve where her reindeer caravan was, her and her mother the leaders of the women reindeer herders, earning their positions because in the spring they dressed like the cards---hat, colorful tunic and leotards, and pointed ankle-high booties, like the queen in a deck of playing cards, Sami, Norwegians who are the best reindeer herders in the world.

Brigade Twelve is set up for spring calving grounds, many of the female reindeer pregnant. There is plenty to eat, good grazing here, clumps of white and pale green lichens buried under the snow, the staple food of the reindeer in the winter and well into the spring. When Meeka got back to reindeer camp, her mother was putting up their shelter made from a bowhead whale rib and reindeer skins, the shelter they will occupy for the next few months until the female reindeer calve.

"Mother, I am sorry we will have no light from the soapstone. I have traded it to an Eskimo woman who is carving me a storyknife from a piece of walrus tusk."

"If your storyknife draws a story from the heart, then it is a fair trade. We can move our shelter closer to the other womens' tents and we can borrow the shadows given off by their light."

"Thank you for your cooperation, mother. I am worthy of this storyknife in an unselfish way and my desire for one is so keen. I do not need it to fit in. The Eskimo girls have accepted me and for that I want to get in the game."

On the first night, the rough line of the storyknife was created, then the Eskimo woman settled in and snoozed after she snuffed out the seal-oil lamp. Management of native resources such as the walrus tusk is inseparable from spirituality. Her village's responsibility is to care for the terrritory, sustain and share the indigenous bounty.

On the second night, the storyknife took shape. Remaining true to her roots, like her ivory-carving ancestors, she held the mouthpiece of her bow drill made of thong and bone between her teeth, giving her a free hand to work sawtooth ridges in the harpoon-point blade so it will draw sharp pictures in the mud and snow.

On the third night, through the immortal spirit of the ivory, it was evident the storyknife had retained the curve of the walrus tusk. She perfected the lines, knowing the storyknife would have to be perfect to compliment the reindeer child's storylines. Pleased with the personality it took on, the woman opened her tin of biscuits and had tea warmed by the seal-oil lamp to symbolize her proud achievement thus far.

On the fourth night, she exaggerated the line by carving elongated roundness into the handle the likeness of the seal. Eskimo languages have no word for "art." No other word can adequately describe the beauty of the ancient traditions of ivory carving.

On the fifth night, not letting the seal-oil lamp burn full, in the dim shadows, she sanded the storyknife sleek and smooth. She snuffed out the seal-oil lamp early, without fear of having no oil for...

...the sixth night, in the age-old tradition of scrimshaw, she engraved a spirit helper seal on the blade. To bring out the lines, she blackened the etching with soot, unburned carbon from the oil lamp.

On the seventh night, she polished the storyknife with bear grease to give it an afterlife where in the food chain, the polar bear ate the walrus and the Eskimo woman ate the bear.

And that is the story of the storyknife. The nether world familiar that will give the storyknife its spiritual potency and storytelling power will be the seal...

..."THE GIRL SEAL HEARD THE SLED RUNNERS LEAVE THE ICE," Meeka told after erasing her floor plan of a two-level fishing shack she drew with her cherished storyknife then drew a picture of the main nether character, a special girl seal that was arriving on the scene. She let go of that scene, erased the seal and drew a picture of a woman...

..."ULA'S TIPSY BALANCE TURNED THE SLED OVER AND SENT HER FLAPPING WHITE-BREASTED ACROSS THE SEA ICE LIKE..." Then Meeka scratched out the stick figure of the woman and drew a bird..."A PUFFIN, A SEABIRD WHO SPENDS HER DAYS RIDING OUT WINTER STORMS TO HATCH AND RAISE HER PUFFIN CHICK," Meeka continued. She was quite skilled at narrating her first story and was quick about erasing the characters as soon as she brought another on the scene. She's got game! And the undivided attention of six young Eskimo girls sitting in the Storyknife circle...

..."BENEATH THE THICKEST SEA ICE (the bird is erased, now drawing the seal back. Meeka's careful about drawing them in the same spot each time so the girls stay focused and concentrated on the characters)...THE GIRL SEAL GNAWS A BREATHING HOLE TO SURFACE BECAUSE SEALS ARE DRAWN TO NOISES LIKE SCRATCHING AND POUNDING...

..."ULA'S HUSBAND (erasing the seal and drawing a stick figure of a woman and a man) GAVE HER A BLOODY NOSE. SHE WAS ON HER WAY TO THE FISHING PIER WHEN HER SLED SPILLED OVER BECAUSE SHE WAS CRYING SO HARD...(erasing the man now and drawing reindeer)...THE REINDEER WAITED FOR ULA TO GET THE SLED UPRIGHT AND HELPED GUIDE HER WITH THEIR HORN BRANCHES TO THE FISHING PIER WHERE MANY PEOPLE WERE MAD BECAUSE (erasing the woman and reindeer and drawing many stick people separating a space and drawing men with clubs) MEN WERE CLUBBING BABY SEALS...

..."A DEAD BLOODY SEAL LYING ON THE PIER PLANKS (erasing the stick people and men with clubs, drawing a woman and a seal)...MADE ULA SO MAD. IT WAS A SAD DAY. ULA SAID SHE WAS A BATTERED WOMAN AND FOR THE FIRST TIME, SHE FELT THE SOUL OF THE SEAL. ULA KNELT DOWN ON THE PIER AND RUBBED BLOODY NOSES WITH THE DEAD SEAL AND SCREAMED, 'I AM A CLUBBED WOMAN (adding a man with a club and a small stick figure little girl) WITH A YOUNG FEMALE CHILD. I AM LEAVING THIS VIOLENT SEA OF CRUELTY IN SEARCH OF CALMER WATERS TO RAISE MY DAUGHTER!'

..."AND EVERYONE HEARD. AND THEY CLAPPED THEIR HANDS TOGETHER LOW IN THEIR MIDDLES LIKE A SEAL CLAPS HER FLIPPERS..." Meeka laid down the knife and clapped her hands together like a seal, then picked the knife back up and shocked the young girls by poking her finger with the harpoon blade drawing blood and smeared it on the tip of her nose, then rubbed it on the tip of the seal nose on the ivory handle of the storyknife, then she erased the man with the club and the little girl and kept the woman and added a seal. She wasn't ready to cut the story loose yet.

..."'SHE WAS MY DAUGHTER, YOU KNOW---THE CLUBBED SILVERY-FURRED PUP ON THE PIER,' THE SEAL TOLD ULA. 'YOU'RE THE CLUBBED ONE I MET ON THE PIER DURING ANTLER HARVEST LAST SPRING WHEN I CAME FROM THE WINTER WATERS TO NAP IN THE SUN. I KNOW HOW YOU FELT BEING ABUSED. MY MOTHER AND MY DAUGHTER WERE CLUBBED TO THEIR VIOLENT DEATHS,' THE SEAL CRIED...

..."'THE HUMAN PREDATORS HAVE TRIED TO TRAP MY HEAD IN THEIR BALEEN MESH NETS, TRICKED ME BY INFLATING A SEAL SKIN TO LURE ME INTO THINKING IT WAS ONE OF MY OWN, AND THESE PREDATORS HAVE TRIED TO SING ME BACK TO SLEEP WITH THEIR SEAL SONGS SO THEY COULD CLUB ME. POLAR BEAR NANOOK HAS STALKED ME AND DISGUISED ITS BLACK NOSE WITH ITS WHITE PAW CAMOUFLAGING AS SNOW, WAITING FOR ME AT MY BREATHING HOLE,' THE WISE SURVIVOR GIRL SEAL CRIED...

..."'I AM PROUD YOUR DAUGHTER (drawing a little girl seal and a little girl) HAS CHOSEN TO WEAR ONE OF MY OWN ON HER FEET. SEAL SLIPPERS ARE OKAY WITH ME, FOR I AM IN AGREEMENT WE SEALS WERE BORN TO MAKE HUMANS WARM, FEED THEM, AND MAKE LIGHT FOR THEM WITH OIL FROM OUR BLUBBERS, BUT SEAL HARVESTING SHOULD BE DONE IN A KINDER WAY. THE POLAR BEAR NANOOK IS FORGIVEN, FOR SEALS ARE ON THE LOWER END OF THE FOOD CHAIN,' THE SEAL WHISPERED OFF, FLOATING ON A CHUNK OF DRIFTING SEA ICE, WAVING HER FLIPPERS AND GOODBYE," Meeka waved. "ULA AND HER LITTLE DAUGHTER MOVED TO A NEW LAND." (erasing the story away.)

"GOODBYE GIRL SEAL," all the Eskimo girls said together. That was the only story told that day. Somehow those young Eskimo girls knew it was Meeka and her mother.

"Her mother's name is not Ula," said the other girl. "Her mother is so pretty. She has skin like ivory. Her nose isn't scarred, it's pretty," the girl said.

"Silly, it is all healed now. And Meeka changed her name for the story. Meeka even said once when she came out of her mother's womb, the first thing that touched her was a seal skin to protect her. That is why she is here today and she is our friend," the girl smiled.

Proposed is a nonlethal seal hunt which will be done by combing baby seals, not clubbing them to their violent deaths. Recommended is that baby seals be combed for their fur in the annual seal hunt in Canada.

New regulations allow the sealers, as the hunters are known, to brush the immature seal pups to gather their hair from their snow-white coat, which in the past has been illegal to disturb or gather a nursing seal pup's molting hair before 2 1/2 weeks old, but perfectly acceptable to club it to death a few weeks later, which is a cruel practice in serious need of revision. Also of note is that European companies that have an interest in importing the seal hair will not buy it unless a conservation group verifies the product is cruelty-free and was obtained in a nonlethal manner. Whether it is battered women or clubbed seals, we will not tolerate injury, trauma, or death.

Raising the reindeer pole is a tradition these women reindeer herders have started this season to carve new life in celebration born out of the calving reindeer. When reindeer stories are told, they are carved into a totem pole the women planted seven-feet deep under the permafrost and hoisted it with thick ropes and support poles made from larch trees.

Feminist time and distance is magnified in Brigade Twelve, where the two natural wonders of the Arctic, the Northern Lights shining at their highest point in the sky and the Reindeer calving on treeless tundra bring sewing thread, women, story, and spirituality all together. Using their teeth, the women separate a sinewy substance that comes from a reindeer's tendons, into strands, then roll it between their palms, turning it into sewing thread that ties it all together...in the mind and in the clothing and shelters that protects them from the bitter cold in the winters, their survival depending on reindeer for their daily lives, making use of every part, especially the natural gift of story that will be passed down through matrilineal generations.

Feminist ivory has carved a portable livelihood from ancient migration patterns that has reinstated a modern-day matriarchal clan. Many of the women are leaving the salmon canneries for Caribou Hills, to raise the reindeer pole and their children.

Based on feminist theory, the brigade system where a group of women are organized for a specific purpose is the ideology that centuries-old migratory routes just may be the answer for the next century's women.

{I wrote these two feminist folktales specifically to give story to one that clearly needs to be told ... one that comes from so deep within a young girl's heart, so deep that if fact, she trades what she thinks to be a material possession for a carved ivory storyknife she needs to get into a game of storyknife where she needs to tell this story to get closure. It is so wonderful that we have diverse cultures across the globe to derive these stories from by researching their plant, animal, nether, and human world.}