On Dating

As there is nothing in particular to do and no place to go, I have often wondered about courtship practices here in Chefornak. How, if I were to come across a respectable Eskimo girl, would I find a fruitful beginning to the process? Where could I go that would offer the safety of a public space combined with the element of intimacy, so apparently vital to acquaintanceship? Would I take her to the post office to check on packages that haven't yet arrived due to them having been shipped to another village, left in the hangar, or not even attempted to be sent? Would we visit the clinic to ensure proper bodily functioning and general well-being? Would we go shopping at the local general store? And then what? Would we come back to my room, dabble with beakers and chemicals, conduct experiments, look at prepared slides of paramecium, didinium, or human skin cells or would we work out math problems on the white board, look at the globe, or re-organize the mess of books found around the room? I don’t know.

But, I do know this…..

What follows is a brief, factual account of a scenario that occurred to a friend and colleague of mine:

Andy (a second-year Chefornakian, astute observer, and amateur historian) had walked in to the general store some time soon after his conquest of a baby spotted seal. Though it may, at the outset, appear to be a heinous and inconsiderate act, one must remember the context with which the story occurs and cope with the knowledge that baby seals are perceived as a delicacy in these parts for the tenderness of their flesh. In any event, while in the store, the topic of hunting was broached amidst an amalgamation of Andy, the cashier, and a few of the local, eligible ladies. Feeling he now had something to contribute to the conversation, Andy spoke of his recent catch. The women looked at him with astonishment and endearment. This feat was impressive enough for any man, let alone one of European descent.

Immediatley, one of the eligible inquired as to who was to clean Andy's catch. Given that Andy had donated his seal to an elder (a local custom), he was unsure of who had taken up the task and likewise dismissed the question as one of little importance.

The conversation fizzled (as conversations do), moments passed, and the local girls left. Immediately, the cashier looked upon Andy as though he were a fool. “Those girls”, stated the cashier, “were hitting on you”! Now, in most circles, a question such as that would seldom occur and if it did, there would be no pleasantry about it nor possibility of construing it as a sexual innuendo. So began my learning of the process of courtship.

From further conversations with Andy, I have surmised that the process of courtship tends to approximate the following:
1. man hunts and kills things
2. man presents dead things to woman
3. woman cuts them, preserves or cooks them
4. sparks fly
5. babies
Note: It has not yet been determined whether the order of these components is of significant importance. It is widely held by Chefornakian scholars that steps 4 and 5 could be readily interjected at any point throughout the proposed process while still yielding a meal and a family.

Now, I’ve never been hunting. The only experience I have with a gun is firing a .22 caliber rifle into the blind side of a mound of dirt (thank you Nags), which is good experience, but presumably not sufficient enough to hit a much smaller, conscoius, and mobile target. Thus, it appears that despite the fact that I am tall, not too sore on the eyes, fairly articulate, fleetingly intelligent, have all my teeth, shower everyday, occassionally wear pants, and currently have my own indoor basketball court, I am not one to be immediately classified as a worthy candidate among the eligible women of Chefornak. Though in other corners of the world my attributes may be enough to draw modest attention, I must deal with the fact that this is a harsh climate, resources are scarce, packages don't always arrive on time, and the inability to hunt is most certainly a liability any rational female must consider.

So who knows what the future will bring. However, for any of you with hunting skills to boast and a desire to reign supreme, I recommend at least a brief stint in Chefornak. The probability of you living like the kings of old, with maidens-a-plenty, is nearly certain. As for me, I have been thinking that I might attempt to resolve my deficiency by offering a chicken breast or some ground beef, in the hopes that it will go unnoticed that I did not slay the beasts myself.

Native Youth Olympics

If all goes well, this will be the inital post introducing you to the world of the Native Youth Olympics. NYO, as is commonly referred to, is a competition comprised of events, presumably unique to Eskimos. These events demonstrate the awesome strength, flexibility, and concentration of the young participants. Their performances are as awe-inspiring as they are bizarre. As having bore witness to this event, I stand firm in my belief that if the Eskimos were 6" taller, the face of professional sports would forever be changed.

The event you see before you is known as the pole carry. The object is to hang on to the pole with one's wrist for as long as possible. Personally, I have trouble getting in to an Indian style sitting position, let alone maintaining it, while supporting my weight with my wrist. However, your skills in this regard may be more finely honed than my own, thus leaving you less impressed than I.

Alaskan

The blue vertical image you see before you is none other than the soon to be legend, Tim Kinegak. Tim is currently participating in the event known as Alaskan. This event requires one to use all possible faculties of the body and mind to touch a leather hacky-sack with one's foot, while keeping one hand on the ground. If this task alone were not difficult enough, Tim prefers to stand on his knucles as opposed to using the open-hand-on-the-floor technique to add a few extra inches to his reach. Observing this transpire in person is far more incredible than one would be led to believe. The picture here allows a glimpse as to how the event comes to its end. However, understanding the fact that the rules of the event dictate that one start on the floor in a sitting position, provides a cleaner, clearer image of the difficulty of the task. A master, such as Tim, has the ability to stay suspended in this position for nearly ten seconds, which leads one to solidify the notion that Newton was wrong and that mind is most certainly matter's master.

The stick pull

The man holding the rod and looking off to your left is Peter Panruk, Jr. He's the son of our cook, a solid student, and the best in the business of deflating egos and dismantling delusions of manhood by effortlessly removing the rod from the grasp of the fatigued.