Waqaa! Cagacit? (Hello! How are you?)
Cangatenritua. Elpet-mi? (I'm fine. How about you?)
Wiinga-llu assirtua. (I'm fine, too.)
Tua-i piuraa. Tangerciqamken. (Goodbye. I'll see you.)
Quyana. (Thank you.)
Yup'ik is a fascinating language. It almost sounds Germanic. The glottal stops and hiccups are much stronger than I'm used to making with my throat as an English speaker, so I have good reason to suspect that my pronunciation must be pretty bad. I'll have to keep practicing so I can improve my pronunciation to a near understandable level, if nothing else.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Thoughts About Food #2
Manaq'ing with Roland and Lady was an amazing experience. I never expected to catch anything, let alone two fish...especially from a hole in a frozen river with a stick and some line...most especially not dinner.
:)
Actually, the entire afternoon with Roland and Lady was pretty amazing. I have never seen a kitchen stocked with such a variety of wild foodstuffs. They were so friendly and open, so glad to share what they knew and to teach someone else those things, it was a great conversation.
Lady was giggling as much as I was and was snapping photos right and left. After I caught the lush and the pike, Roland strung them on a tree branch for me to carry back to the house. Once there, Roland and Lady gave me a very patient tutorial in cutting up fish. They demonstrated on one and let me take my time doing the same with the other. Meanwhile, Roland's mother was cleaning pallas buttercup shoots on the floor beside us. We had a whispered conversation while waiting for the fish head soup to cook up about her time in the mission schools and how she first learned English.
Roland took some thin slices of filet, the roe from the lush (which was about the spawn), the raw lungs and some of the cleaned stomach, which he placed in a small bowl of seal oil and salted. This was one of those "wall" moments for me; where I had to step outside of myself and the things I normally preferred in order to try something completely outside of my experience. It was also outside of my comfort zone, which was the harder thing to overcome. It felt like forever (it always does) but in reality it was all in a matter of seconds. It was exhilarating and scary, the combination of which has permanently seared the moment into my memory.
Lady showed me how to clean out the organs and how to knot them below the head for the fish head soup. Lady and Roland filleted the fishes and dusted the meat in seasoned flour for pan frying. While we were talking and getting everything situated, I apologized for taking so long. Lady told me that she learned how to cut fish from her mother-in-law after she was married.
The soup was delicious, the pan fried fish excellent as can be imagined, and the raw fish was exhilarating. When the time came to leave, I didn't want to.
___________________________
On another note: it's so interesting to learn what food is most important to people and how it came to be so.
:)
Actually, the entire afternoon with Roland and Lady was pretty amazing. I have never seen a kitchen stocked with such a variety of wild foodstuffs. They were so friendly and open, so glad to share what they knew and to teach someone else those things, it was a great conversation.
Lady was giggling as much as I was and was snapping photos right and left. After I caught the lush and the pike, Roland strung them on a tree branch for me to carry back to the house. Once there, Roland and Lady gave me a very patient tutorial in cutting up fish. They demonstrated on one and let me take my time doing the same with the other. Meanwhile, Roland's mother was cleaning pallas buttercup shoots on the floor beside us. We had a whispered conversation while waiting for the fish head soup to cook up about her time in the mission schools and how she first learned English.
Roland took some thin slices of filet, the roe from the lush (which was about the spawn), the raw lungs and some of the cleaned stomach, which he placed in a small bowl of seal oil and salted. This was one of those "wall" moments for me; where I had to step outside of myself and the things I normally preferred in order to try something completely outside of my experience. It was also outside of my comfort zone, which was the harder thing to overcome. It felt like forever (it always does) but in reality it was all in a matter of seconds. It was exhilarating and scary, the combination of which has permanently seared the moment into my memory.
Lady showed me how to clean out the organs and how to knot them below the head for the fish head soup. Lady and Roland filleted the fishes and dusted the meat in seasoned flour for pan frying. While we were talking and getting everything situated, I apologized for taking so long. Lady told me that she learned how to cut fish from her mother-in-law after she was married.
The soup was delicious, the pan fried fish excellent as can be imagined, and the raw fish was exhilarating. When the time came to leave, I didn't want to.
___________________________
On another note: it's so interesting to learn what food is most important to people and how it came to be so.
- James Charles' favorite food is his mother's frybread. Now and forever. When I asked him what other foods he loved, he brought out Nancy's delicious smoked teriyaki salmon.
- Lisa Olick loves fish head soup, seal oil, salmon strips and Mexican food. She is getting into spicy foods and wants to move to Bethel for more food options. However, moving to Bethel means not being able to partake of many of the tundra foodstuffs she loves so much.
- Roland White loves moose, caribou, seal, salmon and a host of other wild game. His top five desert island list wavers a bit between moose and caribou, so he can't say exactly what is on it.
James & Nancy Charles' House.
Community basketball court in Tuntutuliak. Basketball is very big here and the two high school teams boast many great players.
Willow along the banks of the river.
James Charles, sharing a photo of himself with his first plane.
Nancy Charles' ulu collection above her sink. Very impressive.
James called this dish pickled gumboots (AKA Pacific chiton). He said his daughter-in-law had made it and sent it to him. It turns out gumboots are a sea creature...pickled like this, it had a kind of tart soy and dill flavor and was almost like a mushroom...very good.
Mmmmm!
This was a version of delicious canned smoked salmon. It was covered in a delicious smokey oil and was incredibly tender. The skin was still soft and smooth, melting perfectly in the mouth.
James with a gorgeous snowy owl wing.
This video isn't the best angle (sitting on the floor half a room away), but I think the story is neat. Little people! From the Irish the to Yup'ik! Even the Cherokee have stories about little people. Maybe that explains what happens to all the socks in my house.
Kevin Barnett - Demonstrating The Eskimo Yo-Yo
I purchased a beautiful sealskin "Eskimo yo-yo" from Anna and then discovered that I had no idea what to do with it...so Kevin was kind enough to demonstrate. Now I know what it's supposed to do (two weights swinging in tandem at cross angles) but I still can't do it myself.
I have no idea where he learned all the things he knows...he claims he learned from his aunt in Bethel, but I think he may just be psychic...
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Lena Gilila -- Swans + Frybread + Steams
Mallory working on a swan.
Lena and Arnita working on the other swan.
Making frybread. It's interesting that nearly every indigenous culture in the United States has a preferred recipe for making frybread.
The finished product. Absolutely delicious with just the tiniest hint of delicious fried sweetness. I've never seen them done this way before, though...like huge rings...I loved it and will be replicating this at home now.
After a hard afternoon of work...steaming!
The steam houses are small building, almost like sheds. The Gilila's steam had a small open chamber and then the steam room itself, elevated a bit and closed off with a small door blocked with towels. Four people easily fit sitting down (you can't stand up), so I think six or seven could fit if they didn't mind being close.
River water is poured overtop of the rocks on the heated stove and an incredibly hot steam results. Over several nights of steaming, I think the highest temperature we reached was around 150 F. (We all had to take several breaks.)
Cold water (sometimes warm, from the hot water resovoir in the stove) is poured into the individual buckets. You can cover any burning skin or your nostrils/mouth with a cool, damp cloth if necessary.
The best part of the steaming, aside from the incredible feeling of your pores being opened and feeling completely enveloped in heat, are the conversations. Arnita thinks that this is something intrinsic to the situation -- being open, honest and having nothing to hide. It's good to be able to talk like that from the beginning with new friends...I think sometimes people get too caught up in projecting an image or being perceived in a certain way (knowledgable/cool/professional/something)...it feels great to just talk.
When you've steamed to your hearts content, you bring out your soap and shampoo then go through your normal showering routine. Sitting in the cool air afterwards, talking and looking out over the tundra, the feeling is amazing.
Midnight over the tundra...a view from the door of the Gilila's steam house...
Thoughts About Food #1
I decided before we left to do my final project on food (with a lesser emphasis on language), because it seems to me that almost more so than any other aspect of culture, food speaks to who we are as individuals and as a community...how we live, where we've come from, what is important to us...all those things and more.
Food is as basic and essential to our survival as air or water. It is not only sustenance but also communication. We bring food to funerals to say "I care about you and support you; here's some small comfort for a hard time." We make food for our family and friends at gathering to say "I love you and am happy being together with you." When we share our food, we share parts of ourselves.
"Tell me what you eat and I'll tell you who you are.” (Jean Athelme Brillat-Savarin)
Food is the lens through which mainland America views the Yup'ik, so it's the lens through which I want to understand Yup'ik culture (to the best of my limited contact and experience). I feel it ties in so completely with what it means and what it has meant to be Yup'ik that misunderstanding this food culture would be equivalent to misunderstanding them.
Particularly for those living in subsistence cultures, food takes on a central importance. To some extent the environment, activities and schedules of those individuals are decided by the foraging/hunting/fishing seasons...by what has to be put up and preserved...when the salmon run and when the plants are sprouting...it seems to be a great privilege while simultaneously being a huge responsibility.
That's something I don't know very much about, because it's been a long time since my family was required to live off the land. My grandparents hunted, gardened, canned, dried and foraged, but not out of absolute necessity (although that can be argued for coal town survival). It was different for their grandparents and parents, but that's over 100 years in the past of my family. I grew up doing those things with my family, but that's not something I share with many other people of my generation in America, so it's something I'm only used to discussing with elderly individuals or hipster city kids who are all about their local farmer's markets. I think most of my friends find it idiosyncratic (at best) or strange (at worst) that I garden, can, forage and fish. It's definitely not something I rely on for my main food supply, although in the summertime garden produce and fruits are largely what I eat because it's all I can do to keep up with the peppers, tomatoes and various squashes. It's been so weird for me to really think about these things, to come to understand that these skills which are nearly completely recreational for me are something entirely different here in Tuntutuliak...that these things which are a choice for me are not even optional for others...
This is the first time I've ever even thought of canning/gardening/fishing/foraging as a skill. Before it's seemed more along the lines of a hobby or a throwback. To be honest, there are times where it's seemed to me more indicative of my family's past than anything else. Being in Appalachia, this is a sometimes common sign that there is poverty somewhere in your family tree. It was so weird for me to be in a place where this knowledge is valued and respected. I've been having continual conversations with everyone I can here about these things, because it's the first time I've really had these conversations in my life.
(I say "weird" because it brings up a web of complex reactions and emotions I don't quite understand...which feels weird...)
There's definitely something here that I'll have to explore further.
Food is as basic and essential to our survival as air or water. It is not only sustenance but also communication. We bring food to funerals to say "I care about you and support you; here's some small comfort for a hard time." We make food for our family and friends at gathering to say "I love you and am happy being together with you." When we share our food, we share parts of ourselves.
"Tell me what you eat and I'll tell you who you are.” (Jean Athelme Brillat-Savarin)
Food is the lens through which mainland America views the Yup'ik, so it's the lens through which I want to understand Yup'ik culture (to the best of my limited contact and experience). I feel it ties in so completely with what it means and what it has meant to be Yup'ik that misunderstanding this food culture would be equivalent to misunderstanding them.
Particularly for those living in subsistence cultures, food takes on a central importance. To some extent the environment, activities and schedules of those individuals are decided by the foraging/hunting/fishing seasons...by what has to be put up and preserved...when the salmon run and when the plants are sprouting...it seems to be a great privilege while simultaneously being a huge responsibility.
That's something I don't know very much about, because it's been a long time since my family was required to live off the land. My grandparents hunted, gardened, canned, dried and foraged, but not out of absolute necessity (although that can be argued for coal town survival). It was different for their grandparents and parents, but that's over 100 years in the past of my family. I grew up doing those things with my family, but that's not something I share with many other people of my generation in America, so it's something I'm only used to discussing with elderly individuals or hipster city kids who are all about their local farmer's markets. I think most of my friends find it idiosyncratic (at best) or strange (at worst) that I garden, can, forage and fish. It's definitely not something I rely on for my main food supply, although in the summertime garden produce and fruits are largely what I eat because it's all I can do to keep up with the peppers, tomatoes and various squashes. It's been so weird for me to really think about these things, to come to understand that these skills which are nearly completely recreational for me are something entirely different here in Tuntutuliak...that these things which are a choice for me are not even optional for others...
This is the first time I've ever even thought of canning/gardening/fishing/foraging as a skill. Before it's seemed more along the lines of a hobby or a throwback. To be honest, there are times where it's seemed to me more indicative of my family's past than anything else. Being in Appalachia, this is a sometimes common sign that there is poverty somewhere in your family tree. It was so weird for me to be in a place where this knowledge is valued and respected. I've been having continual conversations with everyone I can here about these things, because it's the first time I've really had these conversations in my life.
(I say "weird" because it brings up a web of complex reactions and emotions I don't quite understand...which feels weird...)
There's definitely something here that I'll have to explore further.
Roland and Lady White -- Manaq'ing
The Russian Orthodox church in Tunt.
Dried seal meat from Roland and Lady White.
Dried pike from Lisa Olick...who also gave us a huge sack of dried smelt and several bags of salmon strips (which were delicious)...
Delicious dried fish in Roland and Lady's shed.
Gorgeous detail on a parka sewn by hand by Roland's very talented mother.
Frozen moose liver with an ulu.
Roland slicing up the moose liver.
Pallas buttercup, a wild sprout/green that can be steamed, parboiled and added to soups and stews.
Fish drying in the shed.
Fish racks.
Bonnie forgot to bring rubber boots, so she had to improvise.
Standing on a frozen river, looking back at the village.
Roland demonstrates manaq'ing.
Fun for the whole family! :)
So much more fun than the last time I went ice fishing, which was with my dad as a little girl...all I remember is being incredibly cold, more than a little wet and catching absolutely nothing...unlike this time. :)
My first catch.
A lush and a pike for less than thirty minutes worth of work.
Lady showing me how to cut fish.
The lush was ready to spawn, so there was the bonus of fresh roe. Roland and Lady dipped this in a bit of seal oil and salted it for a nice snack.
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