On the day that her brother was honored, Daisy Stevens sponsored a Gwich'in naming ceremony for three of her grandchildren

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.

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*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.

Let the little girl dance

The little girl stands inside the circle, waiting for the hand that will soon pull her back into the fiddle dance.

Surely, that hand will come soon - won't it?

It looks like it's coming... or is it reaching for someone else?

This time, it must surely be coming for her...

Yes, it is! The little girl is back in the dance! But won't she get too hot, wearing that jacket while dancing with such vigor and energy?

Yes, but it is a simple thing to remove a jacket.

And then she takes a run into the cool midnight-air outside.

She is back. She is in the dance and she is smiling.

I did ask her name afterward and she did tell me - but her voice was soft and shy and the music and laughter was loud. I could not quite make it out.

View images as slide show

Update: Eliza Hutchinson, a former school teacher in Fort Yukon who returned for the gathering, has identified the little girl as sweet Patience Tackett, one of her former students. 

Slide show: Fiddle dancing, Gwich'in style

When Harold Frost was about six years old, his grandfather came to his family house in Old Crow, Yukon Territory, for a visit and brought his fiddle with him. When early trappers introduced the fiddle and the dances that go with it into the Yukon and Mackenzie River country of Alaska and the Yukon and Northwest Territories, the Gwich'in and their other Athabascan relatives picked up the instrument and made both their own. Harold's grandfather was a master of the instrument.

He took great care of his instrument and did not want to risk damage to it by having a child pick it up and have a mishap. So Harold's grandfather placed his fiddle near the bed and ordered all the children to stay far away from it and leave it alone.

It's not that Harold was a disobedient child, but that fiddle tempted him. "No! Grandpa said not to touch it," his sister warned him when she saw him reaching up for it.

Harold touched it anyway. He ran his fingers over the wood and along the strings. He loved the feel of it, he loved even just the little sounds that the touch of his fingers brought from the instrument. He loved it and he did no damage to it.

Harold got his first fiddle when he was about 11. Playing came natural to him. He did not know how to read a note of music, but it didn't matter because when he picked up the fiddle, the music flowed naturally from his heart through his fingers into and then out of instrument. Later, he would teach himself to read music.

Not many years later, Harold picked up another form of entertainment, one that comes in a bottle in the form of alcohol. He and the woman that he married would drink together, but when he was still in his early 20's, Harold could see the damage that alcohol abuse was bringing to people that he knew and loved.

So he talked to his wife and told her that he was not going to drink anymore. "I've been sober for 22 years now," Harold told me. His wife has stayed sober with him.

People who came to Fort Yukon - Gwichyaa Zhee - dance to the tune of Harold's fiddle, backed up up by guitars, base, drums and vocals. They are gathered at the tribal hall.

This time, perhaps, I have overdone it, for I have included 36 pictures in the slide show that readers can find either by clicking on the link below or on either of the above two photos. For those who were there, I don't think 36 will be too many, although I do worry that some might have long waits due to slow village internet connections if they wish to view them all.

For those who were not there, I hope 36 images is not too much and that you enjoy them anyway.

You will find jigs, square and other fun dances. To save me time, I have not tried to put things in order, but, with a couple of small exceptions, pretty much display them in the order that the computer dropped them into my slide show.

The final two images are of young people, leaving the dance late at night by four-wheeler and bicycle. In summertime Alaska, particularly as you go north, people, young and old alike, have a tendency to stay up nearly all night - especially when they get together for any kind of gathering, Gwich'in or otherwise.

Even with this many images, I plan to put up one more, shorter, fiddle dance picture story which I will title, "Let the Little Girl Dance." You will understand the title when you see it.

Click here or on photo to view the full slide show

Go to Harold's site to hear music samples

Slide show: traditional Gwich'in dance at the Gathering

Those who came to the Gwich'in Gathering in Fort Yukon - or Gwichyaa Zhee, as the community is known in Gwich'in - celebrated throughout the week with many different kinds of dances, from jigs, square, and other fiddle dances to rock and roll and even a bit of rap.

Yet, it was the original, traditional dances of the Gwich'in people in all their beauty and grace that the people chose to open their gathering, and to mark important moments throughout. Dancers came from Arctic Village, Venetie and Circle and in their invitationals were joined by everybody.

Over today and tomorrow, I will post multiple slide shows as I can complete them.

Click here or on the photo to view 27-image slide show

Paul Herbert, "Snook," cuts the fish he caught in his wheel - Part 2 of 2

The fish that Paul Herbert, "Snook" caught in his fishwheel have been put on the cutting table, directly in front of his smokehouse.

Snook has sharpened his knife. He feels the edge. It is smooth and sharp, ready to slice through salmon flesh.

Just as he learned to do as a boy while living with his grandmother, Belle Herbert, Snook cuts his fish. He works swiftly and expertly.

He fillets a salmon, leaving the two halves connected at the tail.

He cuts the end off at an angle, to create a shape that will facilitate the drying process.

Pushing down hard, Snook runs the knife over the cut fish in a way that will squeeze out the blood. Too much blood left behind could ruin the meat.

Snook makes angle cuts through the flesh at regular intervals. 

Each cut leaves a clean strip of white on the inside of the skin. This will allow the skin to stretch so that the segments of cut meat are separated through the drying and smoking process.

Applying considerable pressure, Snook runs the knife over the salmon skin to begin the stretching process.

He soaks the cut fish in brine for a spell.

After the fish soak, Snook places them on a rack where they will hang briefly.

As they hang, he stretches the skin some more. He wants to be certain that segments that he has cut do not come in contact with each other, as this could cause them to spoil.

After the fish hang for a spell on the outside rack, Snook transfers them into his smokehouse.

The fish that Paul has cut hang in the smoke.

Snook had been a little worried that the big red king might have been too far along on its spawning journey, but when he cut into it, he found that the flesh was still good. He will cut this one up into sections for freezing.

He places the cuts sections in a large bowl for washing.

His wife Alma washes the cut sections.

Snook had also cut salmon strips, which he will now transfer from the outside rack into the smokehouse. Yellow jacket hornets gather around, hoping to get a share.

Harold Frost who had come from Old Crow, Yukon Territory, to play his fiddle at the Gwich'in Gathering stops by. Alma gives him a box of salmon that she had jarred the day before to put in his boat and take home with him.

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