Kivgiq 2011, part 9: Chie Sakakibara of Japan, beloved in the Arctic, and Ernest Nageak become ravens in Barrow

I am continually amazed at the coincidences that occur in my life. Early this morning, a bit after midnight, I was still working on my first edit of my Kivgiq pictures. Finally, I reached the first frames of the Grand Finale and I thought, "it is time to take a break."

So I decided that I would go into the house, get a glass of water and then come back to my desk. I also decided that before I began to edit more pictures, I would take a couple of minutes and send a message to my friend, Dr. Chie Sakakibara, because I hadn't sent one for awhile and I wanted to be sure she knew that she continued to occupy a place in that portion of my brain that is devoted to kind thoughts.

When I stepped into the house, I found Margie watching the TV in horror and amazement. So I looked at the TV, too. There, I saw what probably all readers have repeatedly seen by now - a horrible tsunami, rushing across the Japanese countryside - smashing, destroying, killing, sweeping cars, houses, buildings, animals and presumably people away as though they were tiny toys.

My mind, of course, immediately focused on Chie. I knew she would be safe - she was in Oklahoma. I reasoned that her family and her dog, Poochie, in Japan would also be safe but I had no way to know for certain.*

So I got my water, watched the TV for awhile, then came back here to my office and computer, pulled up her Facebook page, dropped in a public comment of hope, and then sent her a private message.

As anyone who knows Chie would suspect, many people were sending her comments of encouragement and prayer - and most of those messages were coming from Arctic Alaska.

This is because Chie is well loved in the Arctic.

I think just about everybody who knows Chie loves Chie - and that includes me. And I do not use the word "love" lightly, as it is so often used.

I mean "love," in that people care about and cherish her. Especially Iñupiat people, whom she has embraced and with whom, working with Dr. Aaron Fox of Columbia University, she has helped to repatriate many Iñupiaq songs that had been recorded in the 1940's but then lost.

Chie was at Kivgiq, where I caught her in this photo just as she reached the end of a invitational "fun dance" with the Nuvugmiut Dancers of Point Barrow.

After Doctors Fox and Sakakibara repatriated the songs to Barrow, the dance groups there all took great interest in them - and some performers were so inspired that they formed a new group, the Taġiuġmiut Dancers.

The singers, drummers and dancers of Suurimaaŋitchuat also incorporated many of the repatriated songs into their performances.  Suurimaaŋitchuat also loves to put on the Raven Dance, which originated in Alaska, migrated to Russia, and then faded away here.

After the ice curtain melted in the late 1980's, there was a great reunion of the Inuit peoples of Alaska and Russia and the Russians returned the Raven Dance to Alaska, where it has been enthusiastically performed ever since.

On the final night of Kivgiq, as Suurimaaŋitchuat prepared to again perform the Raven Dance, Ernest Nageak was looking for his dance partner but could not find her. 

Someone shouted, "Get Chie!"

So he did. And Chie, who had not expected nor prepared for such a responsibility, put her camera  down on the floor and joined Ernest. Chie, btw, is an excellent photographer - I would not say it if it were not so.

Here they are, Chie and Ernest, about to become ravens. Chie studies Ernest's movements even as she dances with him.

Ernest flaps his raven wings. Chie flaps her raven wings.

Ernest takes a charming little raven hop...

Chie takes a charming little raven hop...

Oh, how these ravens danced!

...and danced...

...and danced...

...they flapped their wings... they strutted...

...they checked each other out...

...it was not the first time Chie had ever danced as a raven...

...it was the second...

"The day before, Mattie Jo Ahgeak danced the same raven dance with me, so I knew the movements and development a little better when I danced with Ernest," she explained to me on Facebook this morning.

"When I danced, the joy and excitement overrode my shyness and Japanese politeness. I was simply happy to have become part of the circle of music, friendship, and generous sharing of bounty - including the strong tradition of Inupiaq expressive culture - based on beautiful subsistence and human relations."

Chie saw someone sitting at the front of the crowd, smiling big at her, taking her picture repeatedly. She decided to go tease him.

It was Roy Nageak, Ernest's father.

"He's my favorite Inupiaq man and whaling captain. Also, he's my godfather. He gave me my first Eskimo name, Kuninga. He was also smiling so happily as he kept shooting our photos as we danced ... I could not leave him alone on the floor! I was hoping he would dance with us, but oh well, the time was too short."

"In Inupiaq culture, I particularly love their strong belief in sharing based on traditional human-animal relations," Chie Facebook messaged me

"I am fascinated with various ways in which reverence towards people, animals, and places is woven into the acts of singing, dancing, and drumming. Drumming unifies the minds and bodies of the people and the whales (sometimes caribous and other creatures), and singing and dancing enhance interpersonal/intertribal relations. I see that music is a basis of Inupiaq cultural resilience and sustainability."

Dr. Chie Sakakibara - the Raven - whose homeland has today been hit hard by an 8.9 earthquake and a devastating tsunami.

"Invitations to join the dancers by Ernest and Mattie Jo almost made me cry with joy," Chie told me. "This is my 7th year for my arctic research, and it feels like I literally grew up with them as a person (although I am 10 years older than Ernest).

"I love the Inupiat, and they love me so dearly. I can never thank my adopted families enough for how generously they have incorporated me (and my friend, Aaron) into their whaling cycle and cultural fabric. Barrow is definitely my home now, and my heart will always be there no matter where I may move during the rest of my life.

"As the Inupiaq call themselves "People of the Whales," I now feel that I am also made of the bowhead (I still eat muktuk everyday that Julia Kaleak gave me last month). This is truly happy feeling. I am proud to be an adopted Inupiaq."

I had hoped to get some comments from Ernest as well, but I have been unable to reach him.

So, when it comes to his regard for Chie, I will let this closing picture speak for him.

WAIT!!!

I just heard that Mac ping that tells me a new email has come in. Let me go check...

...it's from Ernest! This is what he has to say:

"We always bring people out to dance the Raven dance with us - it's a crowd favorite. So I went out, asked a few people to join me dance and they said no. So I seen Chie so I went straight to her cause I knew she wouldn't say no!

"It was fun dancing with her - even if she didnt know the song. She went along with it and did great! She means a lot to me cause the family of PK13 (whaling crew) took her in on 2005 when she went to our whale and helped butcher and cooked until we were done!

"She is like my Aunty - that's what all us young people call her! Everyone loves her on the North Slope 'cause she's so nice and caring and has no negative thoughts towards people! I was thinking more about Japan just cause I know Chie and her family is there. She is like my family!"

*Chie posted this message about her family on Facebook:

"Thanks for your thoughts & prayers, my friends. It is certainly a very sad and difficult time for Japan, but thankfully my family is safe. My brother who lives in Tokyo described that the experience was "simply beyond words."

View images as slide show

Buddy, a dog from Wasilla, makes good in Barrow; Flossie feeds me a good Iñupiaq lunch

As I walked from the far end of the sprawling Barrow neighborhood of Browerville, I passed by the Northern Lights Restaurant. I was hungry, and for a moment I thought maybe I would go in and buy some chow mien or Kung Pao chicken.

What a foolish thought! I was on my way to the home of Roy and Flossie Nageak and I knew that they would feed me - and it would be a bigger, better, meal than I would get in a restaurant. I needed to save room in my tummy for it, so I just walked right by Northern Lights.

Soon, I was sitting on the living room couch. Roy was out for a bit, but Flossie was there and so was Buddy, a half-dalmatian dog that came to Barrow from Wasilla.

Buddy was happy to see me. He wanted to know everything that had happened in Wasilla since he left as a pup, all these many years ago.

When I told him, he simply could not believe it.

I mean, if it wasn't something that we have witnessed, who could possibly believe it?

Roy and Flossie's grandson Amare Roy, a beautiful mix of Iñupiaq and Filipino, was there. He pedaled about as Flossie pulled together the ingredients for a good lunch.

Soon, she called me to the table. Laid before me was bowhead maktak and flipper, frozen caribou, frozen fish and seal oil. That's a frozen grayling that she is cutting with her ulu. 

When I was still new to this country, I once took a seat at an Iñupiat table and my hostess asked me if I needed a steak knife. "Yes," I answered, picturing one of those flimsy, serrated things that mainstream America calls steak knifes.

Instead, she sat a big, sturdy-bladed, razor-honed, hunting knife in front of me. This, and even better, an ulu, is the kind of knife it takes to slice up Iñupiaq food. Using what Mainstream America calls a steak knife, you could not possibly cut up the maktak you see on the other side of the knife.

I soon learned to carry a good knife with me at all times. This worked out well for awhile and I stayed well-fed, but then along came international terrorism and tightened airport security. I kept forgetting to take my $50 to $70 folding knives out of my pocket and the good folk of the Transportation Security Administration kept taking those knives away from me.

So now I must borrow a knife whenever I eat an Iñupiaq meal.

I had not had such a meal for awhile. This one was excellent - and the blubber that you see attached to the black skin is not at all like beef fat and it is healthy. It is full of the good kind of chorlesteral. The black skin is rich in Vitamin C.

It is the food of the Arctic, and it is the best food to eat in the Arctic - especially if you want to stay warm.

Plus, my tummy had been feeling irritated for a couple of days. This good, oily, food calmed it down and made it feel much better.

Flossie offers a piece of frozen grayling to Amare, but today he wants a hotdog.

Flossie slices up a hotdog with her ulu and then the three of us chow down. My fingers quickly became too oily to handle my camera, so I put it down.

After we had eaten, Flossie brewed tea.

And cookies go good with tea.

This is what it looked like out the window. The sun has been down now since November 18, but, as you can see, it is on its way back. It will rise for about half-an-hour on Saturday, January 23 - tomorrow. It's time above the horizon will then increase for about 15 minutes a day until midnight on May 10. It will then slide across the northern horizon of the sea ice and then not set again until early August.

Sadly, I will not be able to photograph the return of the sun. Lavina is having labor contractions, more than a month early, and while they are far apart and the hope is she can hold off for another week or more, I am going home. I have accomplished all that I needed to accomplish this trip and, as much as I would like to photograph the returning sun, I want even more to be there when my next grandchild is born.

I want Margie to be there, too, and Mary, Lavina's mom. So I really hope this new baby waits awhile - but, just in case these contractions grow strong and push it out, I am going home so I can be there.

After Roy returned, everybody gathered around my laptop to see a picture spread that I did with images that I took of them last summer.

Roy and Amare, with Flossie in the background.