Up until this, the day that her late Uncle Jonathon Solomon was honored at the Gwich'in Gathering, this young lady was known only as Amara Stevens. On this day, she was given her Gwich'in name - Dee'iideek'it - which means she has taken over where her uncle left off. The naming ceremony was sponsored for her, her step brother and a cousin by their grandmother, Daisy Stevens, Jonathon's youngest sister.
Amara was being born on July 19, 2006, even as I took this picture during the burial procession for Jonathon Solomon, Traditional Chief of the Gwich'in. "Jonathon met her before anyone of us while he was on his journey," Daisy says.
That's Amara's Uncle Jonathon at the left, doing part of the work that he has now left for Dee'iideek'it to take over. It was when I learned that Jonathon would receive a day of honor at the gathering that I decided I must be there. I suspect that in the career of every photojournalist, there are a handful of images capturing moments so exceptionally special that they stay with him always, images that define the world for him as he saw it.
In my case, this would include images such as Kunuk raising his harpoon and then thrusting it into the very first bowhead that I ever witnessed give itself to his people; there would be Malik, who in his life was said to be the most successful harpooner alive, reaching his hand out to touch the snout of a gray whale stuck in the ice, a whale whose life he worked so hard to save, a whale that he communicated with; the five moments of birth of my own children, each of whose first breath I captured; the moment that my own father took his final breath.
And then there is what I consider to be the extremely special image that Jonathan is the subject of, although he cannot be seen in it. The eagle can be seen, though, the one that came to his grave, the one that took away the pain and tears that flowed there and replaced them with smiles, warmth and hope.
That moment was so extraordinary and wonderful that when I learned that a day of this year's gathering was to be devoted to Jonathon's honor I knew I had to come.
It had been and still is my intent to take the images that I took on this day of Jonathon's honor, mix them up with others that I took of Jonathon as a living man, tell what I could of the life he led and the battles that he led against seemingly impossible odds to protect the way of life of his people and the animals and fish they depend upon, particularly the Porcupine caribou.
Once again, even as happened to me with the unfinished tribute that I set out to make to my friend, Vincent Craig, my unfinished story on the General Assembly of the Inuit Circumpolar Conference that recently took place in Nuuk, Greenland, I find that the pace and demands of life has overwhelmed me. My short time at home is already over and even as I finish this post, I am 850 miles away from my wife, children, grandchildren and cats.
It will take time and thought to tell this story right and I do not have that time right now. So I am going to save it for later - months later, when it is dark and I hopefully have more time for putting stories together.*
I wish that I had documented the full ceremony when Amara became Dee'iideek'it, but I didn't and I have only myself to blame. The ceremony was scheduled to begin at 7:00 PM and I had told myself that I had better be there right at 7:00, despite "Indian Time."
"Indian Time" is something that everybody jokingly and affectionately refers to mean that nothing will ever start at the set time, but will start later, when everybody is gathered and comfortable about starting. Up until this, the third evening of the gathering, every event that I had attended had started on "Indian time" - anywhere from 20 minutes to more than hour after the scheduled time.
On this evening, I was still in the final download of pictures that I had taken earlier in the day as the clock approached seven. I thought about stopping and bolting over, but decided to let the download finish.
"This will start on Indian time," I said. The card finished the download at 7:07 and I headed straight over to the school, only to find that this event had started right on time.
Two of the three naming ceremonies had already been completed, Amara's and that of Isaiah Horace, who was given the name K'aiiheenjik, which means that he is a great, strong warrior and he is in the Bible - Samson. Jonathon's son, David, stands behind K'aiiheenjik and Dee'iideek'it, holding the rifle that the boy was given along with his name.
This Dylan Coppock, the third of Daisy's grandchildren to be given a Gwich'in name on this day. He listens intently as the Rev. Trimble Gilbert of Arctic Village, Second Traditional Chief of the Tanana Chiefs Conference, explains to him the importance of his new name, Ditsii ta'i"i. This means he is following in his grandfather's trail.
Simon Francis Sr, Traditional Chief of Fort Yukon looks on from the left. Behind Gilbert is Ditsii ta'i"i's grandparents, Kevenne and Gatherine Gottlieb and his father, Matt, son of Daisy.
Along with his name, Trimble Gilbert gives Ditsii ta'i"i a blessing.
Chief Simon presents him with gifts.
Ditsii ta'i"i speaks a few brief words of appreciation to the crowd.
His father places the gift of special necklace around his neck.
Dee"iideek'it applauds her step-brother.
Ditsii ta'i"i receives a hug from his grandfather.
Kenneth Frank of Arctic Village, who came to sing and drum, presents the boy with a rifle.
All three of those who received their Gwich'in names. Katherine Gottlieb, who in 2004 received a MacArthur "Genius Award" for her work in Native health care, whispers in her grandson's ear.
Ditsii ta'i"ii displays his new rifle.
K'aiiheenjik and his Uncle David - who you will read more about when I tell the bigger story of Jonathon Solomon, his life, burial and the eagle.
Matt presented a special chief's necklace to Chief Simon.
Gottlieb gives a priest's sash to Rev. Gilbert to honor him for his role in the naming ceremony. Gilbert is an ordained Episcopal priest.
Chief Simon also received a shotgun.
Daisy addresses those who came to see her grandchildren receive their names. "The kids were quite happy to be getting their Indian names. They talk about it all the time," she told me in an email.
Kenneth Frank and his daughter, Crystal, who sang with him.
*At the end of last year, the first full year that I had produced this blog, I ran a series of pictures in review. This year, my plan is to use December, a dark month, to sit down, revisit some of these stories that I have touched upon but have not been able to find the time to complete, and tell them in greater depth.
Another possibility that I am thinking about would be a create a separate, digital, magazine that I could use to tell complete stories in a way that I am beginning to think may not be feasible in a blog - not to replace the blog, but to complement it. I haven't made up my mind about this, but I am thinking about it. If so, I would seek to construct those stories mostly during the darkness of winter, so that I could keep summers open for shooting and story gathering.