In the museum’s tucked-away corners, surrounded by artifacts with stories yet to be heard, I sought a connection with a Yupik elder who spoke little English. Although council members would talk to him privately about the things we would explore, on the whole, he would not engage anyone outside of his group.
Over lunch, one of his fellow council members shared the captivating story of this 65-year-old, standing at just 5 feet, who had harpooned a whale the past season. This all occurred during early summer Bering Sea storms, marked by strong winds, high waves, and challenging sea conditions. Despite the risks, the elder opted for a seemingly impractical choice—a kayak. Harpooning a large whale from a traditional kayak posed significant safety concerns, considering the power of the whales and the unpredictability of their movements. Typically, whale hunting involves larger parties of at least four participants, including a harpooner, a steersman, and paddlers in a umiak, a large kayak for multiple people.
Nevertheless, the elder’s unwavering determination carved through the wind-whipped waves as the solo hunter ventured into an unpredictable fight with a powerful whale—a risky endeavor. This was a testament to his resilience and connection with age-old practices and demonstrated dedication to his community. The bountiful harvest was a 20-foot giant and promised sustenance—5,000 to 10,000 pounds of precious meat and blubber that would nourish his village for a considerable span.
In an attempt to engage with him, I endeavored to learn a few words in Yupik, hoping to hear more from him in the ongoing discussions. After lunch, as we stood outside enjoying the brisk October air, a plane soared overhead. Pointing and saying “qanruyutet,” Yupik for a large bird, I later discovered that “aivlàn” was more fitting for a jet. Nevertheless, in that moment, he smiled, nodded, and we shared a laugh.
In the following days, he pulled me aside, away from the other anthropological chatter. Pointing at ceremonial objects, he quietly shared their Yupik names with me. A connection formed—simple and cherished—one that spoke louder than words.1
- One of my favorite encounters during my time as a contractor with the Department of Repatriation—there were so many to choose from! ↩︎