Kris (19 page)

Along our pathway home we collected and stored mushrooms, fresh berries, herbs, and plants that we would use to sustain ourselves throughout the winter months.

Winter was a challenging time, and overseeing the herd became much harder. The reindeer wished to move about as freely as they had in milder seasons and in open grazing areas, but the unforgiving winter weather demanded we keep them near us for their safety and survival.

Pel commanded his clever dog Enok to chase the straying reindeer when they began to wander off and redirect them toward the herd. Enok was a massive dog that more resembled a bear than a canine, but he could run swiftly and maneuver better than many of the reindeer. His powerful authority helped to keep the herd close and well contained on the journey home.

If a reindeer strayed too far from the herd or refused to return at his urging, Enok would leap into the air and wrestle the reindeer down to the ground, holding it there with his powerful jaws until it relented or was captured by the Sami herders.

One day I asked Pel how Enok had come to be a member of his family, and told him I was curious about the meaning of his name.

Pel looked at me and flashed his infectious smile and said, “One day trader come, bring many dog to chase reindeer.”

Then he lit his pipe and took several long draughts of the aromatic smoke that he released to the sky before he continued.

“Trader tell me Enok fast dog. Strong dog. He say Enok run like bear. And when he jump on you, Enok you over.”

Severe winter was hard for both the people and the reindeer. We lived in almost total darkness, as the sun did not appear in the sky at all except to sneak a little closer to the horizon, where it leaked a bit of twilight for brief periods each day.

The reindeer survived on the lichens they would dig up from beneath the snow, and we lived on our stores and reindeer, fish, and other animals that could be hunted or trapped. Pel and his people often conducted ceremonial activities to honor the spirits of the plants and animals that sustained them.

When the heavy snows began to fall again, we found it somewhat easier to follow the herd due to the well-defined hoof prints the reindeer would leave as they wandered.

The great challenges of winter brought the herd always closer together, just as it brought Pel's people together. It was the time of mating and “big love,” as Pel would tell me with an air of seriousness and a hint of laughter.

It also was the time when wolves would follow and stalk the herd as it traveled and foraged.

When the harsh winter closed in upon us, the wolves became more prominent, and they searched for weak calves or strays to attack and feast upon.

As we drew closer to Pel's village, the weather grew much more punishing and the wolves sensed we would now be all the more vulnerable. They stalked us relentlessly and began to attack the herd whenever they could. Pel could feel the fear of his people. He rallied several of his best hunters to defend the herd, but even they were not enough to stop the attacks once the wolves decided they were ready.

Wolves ran at the reindeer from many directions, frightening them and causing them to scatter. Pel's men tried to contain the reindeer and chase away the wolves, but the wolves were too numerous and too threatening in their persistent and savage assaults.

As one reindeer fell, Pel charged the attacking wolf, trying to drive it away or kill it. Other wolves moved in, and one leapt at Pel, knocking him to the ground. I ran to his assistance and struck the wolf many times with my staff, forcing it to back away, so Pel could escape. Then more wolves began to surround us. We held them off with our staves, knives drawn, as they circled us, snarling, preparing to attack.

Another wolf lunged. Enok charged the savage animal and grabbed it by the throat, throwing it to the ground and snapping its neck. More men raced to our aid, and we were able to force the wolves to retreat into the woods. But we knew they would continue to follow us and wait for another opportunity to score a fresh kill. We could feel their eyes always upon us.

Pel sent the women and children ahead to the village on the sleds. Several of the men accompanied them to provide protection.

Pel skinned the wolf Enok had killed and gave Enok the victor's prize of fresh meat to reward his heroism.

We traveled later that night when the snow was solid and easier for the reindeer to cross, and in time we approached the village compound, which the earlier arrivals were preparing for the celebration of our safe journey home.

The reindeer were herded nearer to the village huts and watched constantly to prevent another attack by wolves. Pel told me the wolves were frightened to approach the village, so he felt we would be safe from further intrusion.

He also showed me the large stone pits that had been sunk into the ground and hidden to trap encroaching wolves. The pits were positioned in strategic places around the village, deep enough and large enough to prevent a wolf's escape once he was trapped. The pits were covered with branches to disguise them. The intestines of small animals or other bits of food were placed in the center of the covering to lure the wolves. When a wolf approached and tried to claim the food, he would fall through the leaves and branches into the pit, where he might be captured or impaled on sharp sticks lining the bottom of the pit.

The Sami respected the wolves but knew how deadly they could be to the reindeer herds. Thus the wolves became their adversaries in the struggle to live within their natural surroundings.

The fur of the wolves, along with their hides and carcasses, were used, as the Sami used all things, to make tools and protective garments and as food for themselves or their animals.

On the night of our return from the great reindeer migration, large fires were built, and a feast was prepared. They lit braziers of Agarwood, a rare evergreen that grew in the sacred places of the Sami. When we stopped by one of these sacred groves where no trees should grow this time of year, Pel led me into its heart and taught me its mystery. The ground was strangely warm with no or little snow, and the air was heated with a damp mist. Pel warned me away from places that spat scalding water to the sky. From time to time the whole area would rain large drops of tepid water. In the grove there were a few trees that had been attacked by mold. Prior to the effect of the mold, Agarwood is pale. Once infected, however, the evergreen produces a dark, aromatic resin that permeates and transforms the tree into a very dark and dense resin embedded heartwood. I had never heard of or seen anything like it. Pel explained to me that the transformed Agarwood was then used as an incense and that it held unique mental and physical healing properties.

The Sami men sat near the fire, and many held drums made from reindeer hide stretched and laced across oval birch frames. The drums were decorated with a symbol of the sun in the center, which was surrounded by the representations of the animals and sacred places revered by the Sami. Each drum was different and designed to tell the story of its owner and the world surrounding his family and his life.

The men held small hammers made from bone or antler, which they used to strike the drums and make a rhythmic, enchanting music. It reminded me of how we would gather as a community to sing Christmas carols, and I told them as much.

“Juovllat,” Pel said, and others in the circle nodded in agreement.

“Juovllat? Christmas? How do you know of Christmas?” I asked, confused.

Pel took the drum from the closest man and showed me once again his story, how it began with a star, a crude drawing of a small child and two lines that formed a rough cross. As the men passed around their drums, I saw that every story began with these three symbols.

“He is the tree that was cut down only to grow again,” Pel said.

“How do you know this?”

“It is part of our story.” He shrugged. “Many moons ago, before the memories of our grandfathers' grandfathers, a great noiadi leader of the Sami followed a star to the child's side. He watched the tree grow until it was cut down, and then to its rebirth. We did not see him again.”

“If you did not see him again, how do you know this?”

“His spirit speaks to us,” was his straightforward answer, and I was never to learn more. To him it was just a simple truth.

The Sami sang through the night, and the music put us in a wistful mood. When the music faded to completion, Pel moved near the heart of the fire, lifting his drum and striking it slowly as he sang in conversation to the spirits of the animals, so he might travel in their ethereal world. He sang about the wanderings of his people, the beauty of the world, and their place among all things. He thanked the animal spirits of those sacrificed along the way and said they were now part of our spirits as we were part of theirs. He thanked the reindeer that had always
helped the Sami in their spiritual quests and formed the basis of their lives.

As Pel passed deeper into his ritual drumming and song, he began a long and colorful Yoik, which I learned was an improvised song known to bestow upon its subjects a greater strength and blessings, as it described their personalities and important characteristics.

What I did not know was that the song he was to sing that night was mine.

He spoke of the way I had come into their world, and the magical gifts I had made and shared with his people. He sang of my journey with the Sami and my help in protecting and providing for the reindeer. He sang of my big love and devotion to my family and my bravery in fighting off the wolves that had attacked us so fiercely. And he sang of my efforts to save his life and protect all the Sami people.

When he finished, he told me this song was not about me. It was me. I was its owner. Forevermore his people would sing my song and remember how I had become a part of their world, of the earth and the sky, and the places reindeer fly.

Pel placed a silver ring on the skin of his drum and watched the way it moved and danced and spun on the drum when he struck it with a small hammer made from a reindeer antler. When the silver ring at last completed its journey, Pel said to me, “We are children to the father of miracles, we shelter beneath the tree that grows again, we are reindeer herders. Will you walk the snow with us?”

It had been difficult to make toys during my first year in the village, when I was learning so much from Pel and the others. Pel could see I was
determined to get back to my calling and one day as the spring thaw was underway, he came to me to discuss an important matter.

“Now time to build home,” he said. Then he looked me over with a studied eye. “Must be big home, for big family and big love.” Then he laughed to the point of falling and rolling on the ground.

Pel assembled his best craftsmen: Haakon, Eilif, Baldur, Roald, Vidar, and Flem to assist me in collecting the large and thick tree limbs and sticks we would need to support the walls and coverings of our dwelling. He showed me how to clear and prepare the ground to make a proper base. Then he decided I should have a specially designed home that combined adequate living space with adjoining rooms for Gabriella, a carpentry to house my tools, a barn for Gerda, and windows so I could always see the beauty of the world.

“You have learned way of reindeer,” Pel told me. “But this no job for you.” Then he picked up a toy wolf lying on a flat board where I had carved it. “This your job,” Pel said. “We make reindeer. You make toy.”

“That wolf is my gift to you,” I said to Pel. “It is the sign of your power over them. They may threaten others, but will never harm your spirit.”

Pel and his men helped me collect the materials necessary to build our new home and carpentry. They taught me the ways to bend the key supporting branches so they would continue to hold their shape as they dried and how to interlock them to add strength to the wall supports. They showed me all the types of sticks and tree branches that would serve to make the best wall panels and how to peel the birch bark needed to fill in the spaces in the walls that reindeer pelts and the turf would eventually cover.

They also emphasized the importance of the fire pit and the circular opening above it, which was our doorway to the spirit world and the
place through which our smoke would rise into the skies. This was the center of our home, like our hearts that glowed warm to sustain us.

When the frames had been constructed and the wall sections detailed, the men began to cut and brace the windows and their shutters and roll large sections of turf, which was applied in sheets and chunks to coat the outer walls. It was monstrous. The main room had a tunnel with bedrooms on either side which opened up into a huge space larger than Josef's carpentry. The stables were at the back end with a huge tarp covering a hole large enough for a horse. One day I will build a door large enough for a sleigh. I needed to start with something smaller until I figured out how to unify our village design structures with the Sami's earth homes. So I fashioned a large door of wood planks which I had cut large enough to accommodate my own comfortable entry.