A Departure of Sorts

This posting isn't directly related to Atqasuk or the Arctic. It's more of an FYI statement or explanation for a link that I've added to my blog called PostSecret. I have been slightly torn about whether or not to leave it there. I stumbled across this blog a few days ago, checked it out, and was intrigued. I linked it thinking that some of you might find it interesting as well. Then I began to wonder if the content might be too offensive to share. It's built around (as far as I can tell) uncensored reader response. I guess what I'm saying is that it can be rough or, at the very least, extremely edgy. But, after reading more about the origins of the blog and subsequent publications, I've decided to keep the link and let you decide for yourselves. The posting changes on Sundays, so if you don't like what you see today, try it again next week. It might be better. I'm not vouching for the content. In fact, I find myself having a hard time with some of it, but it has made me think. And that, in my book, is reason enough for consideration.

The premise is that readers anonymously share their secrets either by hand-made postcard or recorded message. Some of the secrets are actually inspiring. Some are lighthearted and funny. Some are decidedly not. At first, I will admit, I was slightly startled by what I read and heard. Some entries were pointedly crude while others seemed a little sad and rather dark. But, as I researched further, I found that the very act of sharing their secret was often very liberating for some people. The anonymity created a safe place for them to open up (often for the first time) and share things they'd kept buried for years.

The author of the blog began compiling the secrets and has just published his fourth edition of PostSecret collections. He tours the country doing talks and displays some of the pieces as an art exhibit. The experiences he relates are often astounding. In short, I changed my mind. What I had judged as a mass of negativity seems to have become a cathartic activity which, for many, leads to real healing.

As we move toward the winter season, I have been thinking about the implications of darkness...how it feels and the effect that it can have on people's emotions. Darkness can be like a shroud, concealing things that are truly frightening. So often we fear it or dread it or simply ignore it altogether. For me, it's helpful to remember that the sun will return. The earth will warm, the snow will melt, and everything that is asleep will awaken with freshness and new life. Some people, though, don't have that hope--yet.

In its own way, it seems, that PostSecret has given people an opportunity to face the darkness within themselves. It's given them a venue for shouting at the terrible things that lurk in the shadows and pointed them toward the warming rays of freedom. What a noble thing for a simple blog to have accomplished, even if by accident. Some of you may already be familiar with PostSecret. It's been around for several years. Again, I'm not endorsing...just explaining why I've linked it...at least for now. Check it out for yourself and see what you think.

Here are a few samples taken from the Amazon.com website. The descriptions and author statement found there are helpful in understanding what the phenomenon is all about.

What's In A Name?

One only has to view the birth announcements in the Arctic Sounder (see related links) to discover that naming a child is taken pretty seriously around here. On the North Slope, children are often endowed with multiple names, as many as four or five. It is common practice to name a new baby after a dear or departed relative (or three). In that way, the memory of the loved one is honored throughout the lifetime of the namesake. Children will, without provocation, enthusiastically recite the long list of relatives for whom they were named which, I must admit, can be a fairly impressive feat.

Not long after I moved to Atqasuk, people began to ask me what my Eskimo name would be. My Eskimo name? The question caught me slightly by surprise. I hadn't considered the possibility of choosing a Native name, but after thinking about it, I kind of liked the idea. From that point on, I began paying closer attention to the proper names and common words that were spoken each day within my hearing. I'd repeat one every now and then, trying it on for size. Like shoes, an ill-fitting word can be a little painful to break in.

Inupiaq is an interesting language, but there's nothing easy about it. There are only three vowels (a, u, and i). That seems simple enough. Unfortunately, there are several unusual consonants whose pronunciations wreak havoc with my awkward, mostly English-speaking tongue. They bounce around in my mouth like a size 7 foot in a size 13 shoe! There are four variations of the letter "l" as well as two types of "g" (remember, the one with the dot?). There are three types of "n" and one of those, get this, has a tail! On top of all that, each of the vowels can be doubled (as in, uunaalik) making for some unexpected syllables, to say the least. After a good bit of trying on, my interest in finding a name that I could actually pronounce began to wane.

Then something unexpected happened. The elders of the village have a standing invitation to eat lunch with the students in our school. One day, an elder that I knew fairly well mentioned to me that my name, Kimberlee, reminded him of the Inupiaq word, kimaliuraq. He explained that a kimaliuraq was a little knife, an ulu, smaller than regular ulus. It was designed to fit a woman's hand more comfortably and to be more precise, an important trait for working with skins. From that day on, without hesitation, that was the name he called me...Kimaliuraq.

I don't think the elder had considered the implications of the name he'd given me. I'm sure the sound of my English name simply connected with his native tongue, creating a natural association. But, regardless of how it came about, I have grown to appreciate that association. To be connected with a tool that is sharp and strong, useful and versatile, fitting just right in the palm of a skillful hand. There's just something inspiring about that. I think it's a name that I'd like to live up to. After all my shopping and trying on, my Eskimo name just sort of landed in my lap. Thankfully, though, I couldn't have asked for a more excellent fit.



The small ulu at the top is the kimaliuraq (about 2 1/2 x 4 inches). The one on the bottom is the average size for an ulu (about 5 x 7 inches). These ulus were all made by Natives of the North Slope. The Ulu Factory in Anchorage commercially manufactures a wide variety of ulus that can be ordered/shipped (see related links).


The handle of this kimaliuraq is made of caribou antler.


Meet Mr. Nayukok, another elder in the village. He made the kimaliuraq as well as the larger ulu in these photos. Here you see him holding a decorative ulu (not for use) crafted from whale baleen. The handle is walrus ivory. Notice his mukluks (boots). They are hand-made predominantly of seal skin. They are really very impressive in person.


Another one of Mr. Nayukok's ulus. This one has a walrus ivory handle as well.



This ulu was made by my friend Gail's brother, Leonard Felder, who lives in Barrow. I like the way he mounts the handles on a post. This handle is made from whale bone. He puts a thick layer of sealant on the bone which is good because whale bone smells a lot like cod liver oil...very fishy.

And the Winner Is...

Only a few brave souls dared to cast their vote in the traditional Eskimo foods poll. Well...seven, to be exact. Now the poll is closed. The opportunity has passed. No more clicks will be accepted. I can almost hear an audible sigh of disappointment out there in cyberspace. Okay, I'm kidding about the audible sigh thing.

I must admit, though, in all seriousness, I was somewhat surprised by the outcome of the poll. I truly expected that frozen maktak would be the hands-down favorite. And I was really surprised that anyone ventured a vote for mikigaq. Come on, fermented whale meat? I didn't think that would even receive a nod. Apparently, there is a small, underground faction out there in support of fermentation. Hmm.

It's obvious that I am rather out-of-touch with public sentiment regarding culinary preferences because the overwhelming winner turned out to be...uunaalik! Boiled whale blubber beat out the frozen variety and even eked past the fermented meat/blubber combination. I guess that shouldn't be so surprising. Clearly, the fact that uunaalik is actually cooked appealed to more voters. In fact, students polled in my classroom designated uunaalik as their unanimous favorite as well. And they've actually eaten it!

When I asked one vocal student why she liked uunaalik the best, she replied rather matter-of-factly, "Because. It's the bomb."

Huh.

Uunaalik is the bomb.

I really don't think I knew that.



Unfortunately, I don't have photos of uunaalik. So, I'll share some photos of maktak...the frozen stuff that nobody voted for. These were taken during a community feast a few years ago.



Some of you may already be familiar with the knife that is being used to cut the maktak. In Inupiat culture it is called an ulu. I'll probably share a little more about ulus in a later post. I have a special connection with this little utensil that I'd like to explain.



In my mind, this event qualifies as an arctic anomaly. It's a maktak-eating contest! Every year, in the spring, our school hosts an Inupiat celebration. This contest is one of the most popular events of the day. These are parents competing for the honor of being the supreme maktak eater. As you can see, there weren't enough ulus to go around.



These contestants are high school students. Yes, they cut the maktak for themselves. Although all Inupiat children are accustomed to using ulus on a daily basis, the younger students compete by eating pre-cut slices. It's safer and it ensures that the contest can be completed within the confines of a regular school day (the little ones are slow at cutting).