Chapter 6
The An’kalym,
Chapter 37th year of Toghon Temur
(N.E. Siberia, 1367)
Fortunately, the natives proved to be more curious than hostile, but they really looked like warriors, unlike all those we had seen before. Again, while they found us interesting, they were most taken by our horses. As it turned out the horses were the main reason they hadn’t attacked first and asked questions later, their usual method. They hadn’t seen horses before and wanted a closer look at them and whoever brought them. Looking at us they decided Juchi must be an Even, although he was strangely dressed, I, on the other hand was not easily explained. We correctly identified them as Chavchuvat, and explained that we were looking for them with the hope that they might help us find our shaman’s village among their brothers, the An’kalym. This prompted an invitation to their village across the lake, which was quite frozen, they assured us.
The village consisted of a row of tents, not unlike our yurts in general shape, though they were smaller and were covered with reindeer skins. There was a large herd of reindeer grazing nearby as well a growling and yapping pen of dogs. We were ushered into the last or easternmost tent to meet the leader and explain ourselves. The headman was willing to help us find our shaman’s village, but he still couldn’t understand how Juchi and I could belong to the same tribe, or for that matter, why we had an An’kalym shaman. We explained again that Mongol really meant “the brave” and so was a group rather than a tribe and anyone who was brave and accepted by our leader could be a member no matter what his ethnic tribe was. This was still hard for them to conceive until one of them recalled that a group of An’kalym had mixed with the Yupigyt and were now one village. That made some sense to them, and they decided to leave it there, fortunately.
They invited us to stay with them for a while, and we thought it prudent to do so since the horses were in poor shape, we were very low on food, and we wanted their help. Our hosts soon convinced us to leave the horses with them and borrow dogsleds for the rest of our journey. They promised not to allow any harm to come to the horses as long as we returned the dogs and sleds to them before the next winter. They graciously built the horses their very own tent and promised to feed and exercise them according to our instructions. They then took on the task of honing our very rudimentary dogsledding skills. We had no idea just how complicated it was to keep a snarling, mean-spirited, hostile team of dogs from fighting each other while moving in concert in the direction desired. It took time, but we both got rather good at it, although I can’t honestly say I’ve ever missed either the dogs, the sleds, or for that matter, the north, since.
When our tutors thought it safe to let us go, they decided to also loan us a “slave” to make sure we didn’t get lost. It seems that they enslaved those captured in battle, but this particular slave had killed a member of the tribe and had become a “slave” to replace his victim (a rather unique custom). We were assured he could be relied on to get us where we wanted. They did not recognize the bay in Givevneu’s drawing although they were quite taken with the idea of maps and insisted that I draw a map of their village for them. They also did not recognize the name of Givevneu’s brother, but suggested that we try asking at the settlements of An’kalym around a rather large bay to the east, since they might know the man.
We set out just before the sun made its brief appearance in the south. It wasn’t really dark, but more like a long twilight. We went single file with our guide in the lead, heading generally east along the northern bank of a large although apparently frozen river. Our sleds were fully loaded with dried fish to feed the dogs and ourselves, so they kicked up quite a steady spray of the powdery snow, necessitating that we leave a bit of room between us as we traveled. Our guide set the pace, and it was fortunate that Juchi and I were in good physical shape, because he was not taking his time, and we had to run along with the sled to keep warm. Turning it on its side stopped the sled. I would have thought a brake could have been devised but their solution did seem to work. Then to start up again, we would have to untangle and arrange the dogs, right the sled, and yell some sort of epithet in the Chavchuvat tongue. This yelling had to be done with authority—much like a growl—to be effective.
What little could be seen was hard to discern. The landscape was almost uniformly white, only occasionally broken up by a stand of bushes, although often these would appear clothed in a ghostly white coating of snow. The sun would appear red and low in the south and coast along the horizon for a while and then disappear into the eerie long twilight. We would usually find a village to spend the night before dark, but if not, the pale shimmering blue ribbons of the northern lights would starkly appear in the northern sky as we reached a village. Normally the activity of greeting the villagers and settling down the dogs and ourselves would keep us inside the dank smoky tents or rushing around outside briefly, but one night, Juchi hauled me out into the night to look at the stars. They were just as Givevneu had described them to him. The group of stars the Hanjen call the Northern Bushel Basket and the Muslims call the Greater Bear was in the middle of the northern sky. Below and a little to the west of the smaller similar pattern that rotates around the Star of the North, the zigzag group of stars the Muslims call the Lady in the Chair was very high in the southeastern sky, and the small cluster of stars was overhead to the south with the Starry River below it. We were far enough north, and only needed to go east.
We followed the frozen river into a very large frozen delta and across frozen inlets, then back inland to the north of a small ridge, then across a flat open plain with a small range of hills to the north where we turned more northeasterly finally arriving at a large village near the mouth of a huge bay which was mostly frozen over. This leg of the journey had taken nine days. This village was indeed peopled by An’kalym. The headman received us graciously and vowed to see us to our destination. Our guide was sent back with presents, and we were prevailed upon to stay a few days and tell stories while waiting for the coastal waters to freeze completely, since that would be the easiest route to the east. The headman was sure he had met Givevneu’s brother, but it had been a chance encounter at a trading village some days to the east, and he had indicated that his village was even farther east.
The An’kalym lived in what they called “caves.” These were set on the ground and framed with the jawbones and ribs of whales. Over this they layered sod and earth. The entrance was a long corridor in the winter and the smoke hole in the summer. Bones covered the middle of the floor and over this a large whale oil lamp burned day and night. There were platforms raised up on four sides of the floor and on these there were fur “tents” in which several people could sleep. Each of these had its own oil lamp for heat and light and was really quite warm—if smoky. The smell, on the other hand, was beyond the imagination. Of course, it would have been unthinkable to betray any displeasure, especially since they seemed to attach great significance to smells and were constantly sniffing each other by way of greeting. I suspect they found our smell no less repulsive than we found theirs. And by now they would be justified since a proper bath was only a fond memory for us. But they never let on any offence and were very gracious and generous hosts.
The layover was fortuitous for a ferocious blizzard hit the village on the next day and raged with varying intensity for five days. Then it took another two days to get organized for our departure. Meanwhile, every night we each had to tell stories and in turn hear their stories. They really liked the fables my grandfather George had told me but also enjoyed the Christian Bible stories my grandfather Peter had told me. Juchi’s hunt and battle stories were well received as well, although they were obviously embellished. They finally told me they were relieved that I was called the “Raven” because of my wisdom evidenced in my stories. They were afraid that the name had been a mockery since I had pale skin and brown hair while the raven was very black. No, I didn’t disabuse them of this interpretation. Neither did Juchi, but his smile was a bit too broad when he heard it.
We left early the next day, well before sunrise. Stars were still visible, but the southern sky was lightening to that deep blue that precedes twilight. The northern lights were still writhing slowly in the northern sky. There was no perceptible wind, but the cold was intense and penetrating. As we set off across the frozen bay, I wondered how these people went through this every year. The bay was a rather bumpy ride, but there were no pressure ridges or thin spots, and we passed inside a skinny barrier island and sped to a village on the eastern side just as the last twilight darkened into full night. We repeated this pattern every day speeding eastward over the frozen sea just in sight of the shore and spending each night in another An’kalym village. Sometimes we would pass a few villages by, but usually they were the only sign of life anywhere in the bleak unrelenting frozen landscape.
The skinny barrier island proved to be very long. It was two days before we passed it. The shore continued east for a day, turned southeast for another day, then turned south for two days before again heading east. On the second day of this heading, we found a bay similar to the one Givevneu had drawn, but the spit of land was on the western side of the bay and right at the mouth instead of a little up the bay. The headman at the village on the bay had heard of Givevneu’s brother. It seems he was now the headman of a village on a bay two days’ journey farther along the coast. It seemed we were surely at the end of the earth, and still we had farther to go.
And so it was that two days later just as the sun ended its brief appearance in the southern sky, we rounded a cape into a bay and headed right for a spit of land jutting out from the eastern shore of the bay a little way up from the mouth. Little twilight was left as we approached the village, but a small group gathered to greet us as we pulled in. We asked for Givevneu’s brother, Naukum, and were taken to the largest “cave.” He greeted us graciously, although he was puzzled that such strangers would know him by name. We told him we had a message for him from our shaman, his brother, Givevneu. This seemed to puzzle him for a while, and we began to think we might have gotten the wrong man. Then he brightened.
“You mean my brother, Blocknot!” he almost shouted. “So he has taken the drum after all. We thought he had perished long ago, after he disappeared. But who are you people? One of you looks like an Even, the other like a mystery. Where is my brother? How did he find you? Is he well? Has he become a woman? Is he with the Even now? Is he coming back? What is his message?”
We tried to answer his questions as best we could except we wanted to give him the message in private in case it was personal. Of course, some of his questions raised questions in our minds. It seems Givevneu is a title rather than a name, it means, “one who knows” and is only given to particularly wise shamans. Also, apparently some shamans “change” their sex when they heed their “call.” It seemed indelicate to pursue that point, although I made a mental note to ask Givevneu about it later. We assured him that his brother was still a brother and in fact had had a few children by a Nanai wife. When we were alone, Juchi took out the message and read his transliteration much to the awe of Naukum. Apparently even the idea of writing was alien to him, and we needed to spend some time explaining the concept before we got back to the message itself. Juchi reread it to him, and he sat quietly for a time reflecting on it quietly.
“Do you understand the note?” he finally asked us.
“No,” Juchi replied, “Givevneu and Kaidu, our leader, thought it best if we came to understand the note after we delivered it.”
“Humph,” Naukum grunted, “perhaps he thought you’d not bother delivering it. It is really very simple for me, but perhaps not so for you. It simply asks me to guide you to Kytmin through Imaklik and Inaklik as soon as it can be done over the ice with heavy loads. That will be later in the winter, perhaps thirty days from now at the earliest. We will first have to go to Pyeyek, which is about eight days away on the sleds. We should make Imaklik in one day, move leisurely to Inaklik in part of another day, and rest the dogs up for the run to Kytmin the next day. It will mean visiting with the Yugit, as they call themselves. Without one of them along, I won’t cross over to Imaklik. But they have a village near Pyeyek where one of our villages is, and we have been on friendly terms for a long time now. So you will stay with us until it is time to go to Pyeyek?”
“If you will allow us,” I answered, “but could you tell us what these words of yours signify?”
“Pyeyek is a large rocky hill on the coast north and a little east of here,” he began in a matter of fact tone, “Imaklik and Inaklik are two small islands on the sea and Kytmin is the rocky hill on the western coast of the other land.”
“Other land?” Juchi and I repeated almost in unison.
“Of course,” Naukum shrugged, “didn’t Blocknot tell you about it? It is a large landmass, but it is overrun with Yugit and some other kind of people farther inland. Besides, it’s easier to hunt whales from here, so it’s of no consequence. I don’t know why he wants me to show you two the way, but I will.”
Juchi and I looked at each other in stunned silence. Why would Kaidu want us to scout out another land unless he wanted to take the tumen there? But if it were a frozen waste like this, what would be the point. We might as well just stay north of the Karamuren. We’d be out of the Khanate, but in a more temperate climate. I began to wonder about this “other” landmass.
“Just how large is this eastern land?” Juchi anticipated my question.
“I don’t know,” Naukum shook his head, “probably as big as this land. It trails off to the east and south for some distance according to the Yugit. Of course, I’ve never been there.”
“But why?” I asked puzzled by his disinterest.
“I have all I need here, “ he replied, “why should I look elsewhere?”
“Have you heard what it’s like?” Juchi asked the more practical question.
“You will have to ask the Yugit what it’s like,” Naukum chuckled. “Why would I ask about that in which I have no interest?”
“That makes sense.” I laughed. “Excuse our curiosity.”
“No need.” He waved aside my apology. “You are wise to wonder about your destination. I regret I can’t help you more.”
We were assigned a “tent” in Naukum’s “cave” to sleep and were told the routine of life in the camp and invited to join in their hunts. This we readily agreed to do since we would be their guests for some time and it was the least we could do. Naukum gave us proper An’kalym clothes for our stay. This consisted of a double layer of trousers and shirts made of sealskin with the fur side worn inside on the inner layer and outside on the outer layer. The shirts were trimmed with dog fur. The outfit was completed with fur stockings and sealskin boots. To my amazement and discomfort, they wore no hat unless there was a snowstorm. Once Juchi and I were given the storm hats, we wore them all the time much to the amusement of our hosts.
The An’kalym seemed to be impervious to the cold. While the clothes they wore were indeed warm, I could never sympathize with their complaints of how hot it was. They were also quite strong. I was amazed at the size and weight of the loads they hefted with apparent ease. I found out that they built up their strength by lifting large heavy stones that had finger holes cut into them. Juchi and I found ourselves working with these stones during inclement weather for lack of anything better to do. Our hosts, however, were artistically inclined and liked to carve walrus and whale ivory and bone. They also liked to tattoo themselves, but not excessively. The men had small circles at the edge of their mouths and the women had straight lines on their forehead, nose, and chin. Curiously, the men wore their hair shaved on the crown like the older Mongols and the women wore braids, just like all of our women do.
The food we were served was usually the meat and fat of seal, walrus, or whale. The latter two were cut into large chunks and stored in pits cut into the frozen ground. Here they would get rather smelly but not spoiled. We also were served fermented leaves and grasses with the meat and on what was considered special occasions a loaf of ground roots mixed with fat and meat. All this took quite a bit of getting used to for both of us. We shared the little of our few remaining provisions with them, and they found the dried fish and meat familiar, but were puzzled though not put off by the dried mare’s milk.
Hunting in the winter consisted of seal hunting. A trained dog led the hunter to the holes seals made in the ice to breathe. The hunter would then either set a net into the hole to entangle the seal or sit on the upwind side of the hole and spear the seal when it appeared. They would also go to the edge of the ice pack and spear any seal that came by. Sometimes they would set Juchi and me up at a hole cut in the ice on the bay to fish using a line tied to a stick with a small lure as bait. The “bait” was either a piece of red cloth or a tiny carved ivory fish. We were moderately successful at the fishing but were usually mere spectators at the seal hunts.
In addition to playing with the stone weights, we also passed idle time trying to learn the An’kalym language. The language was not especially complicated until we found out that the women pronounce the same words differently. The women would use a “ts” sound for the men’s “r” sound. I resolved this problem by talking mostly to the men. Juchi, being unattached and of an amorous bent, made a great effort to grasp the whole of the language. My strange looks caused some interest, but they were not offended by my claim to be attached to a woman back home. Juchi, on the other hand, was much in demand by the unattached females of the village, and from my vantage point he seemed determined to keep them all happy.
We also spent some of this layover discussing our situation. It was fairly apparent that Kaidu wanted to take the Ordu over to the eastern landmass. I saw two major questions to be answered first. One was, could it be done? And the other was, would it be worth doing? The first question bothered me particularly since I was doing the mapping. The terrain of the north was quite difficult. In fact, it was probably easiest to get around in the winter since so much of the land was either marshy or mountainous. And in the winter, the marshes, rivers, and lakes were frozen solid and so easily passable. But of course the winter would be very hard on the people and animals and the sudden blizzards could tie us down for days. Also, wheels and horses hooves are not ideal for moving on ice and snow. Juchi suggested that perhaps the wagons could be turned into sleds, and we spent some time trying to design such a hybrid. The second question could only be settled once we got to the other land and talked to the Yugit. Did the land extend far enough south for the horses to survive? And, even more important, would a group like ours have a chance to settle there? Or, would we run into another Middle Kingdom? We sincerely hoped that the Yugit would prove to be more inquisitive than our host.
At last the time was judged right by Naukum, and we set out for the village at Pyeyek. By now the days were quite short consisting of little more than twilight, with a fleeting appearance of the sun far in the south. We went north way up the bay from the village, then veered inland over a narrow flat area between some hills. Here we stopped for the night at an old abandoned village. The next day, we continued inland up a gentle slope, then back down again to the coast and an inhabited village at the end of another large bay, facing east. The next day, we went up the bay to the village just north of its mouth. We could see a large island to the east. We continued east and north along the coast for two more days, and then set out across the frozen sea losing sight of land and everything else for that matter for a while, but our guide got us to another village that night. I suppose one gets used to very minimal landmarks up here, but I found mapping completely impossible under these conditions, and only just barely could figure out the general direction we were going, for even the lodestone was proving unreliable for some reason.
The next day, we went due east along the coast to another village at the end of a peninsula. Here we had to wait out a storm that struck just as we were getting ready to leave. The storm raged for a day, but was mostly wind and blowing snow with very little fresh snow. We set out across the wide mouth of a bay to another village. After this, we hugged the coast that went north for one day then northeast for a day and finally east around a moderately high hill seemingly jutting out of the sea like an island. It was a peninsula in fact with very low frozen marshy land connecting it to the mainland. The village at Pyeyek was in a rather protected spot between the hill we had just come around and another larger higher one to the north and a third low one to the west. We tried to see the object of our quest from the hill but were either driven from it by the cold or it was too dark by the time we were high enough. Our hosts assured us we could see the island Imaklik on a clear day.
Naukum left us for a few days while he went on to the nearby Yugit village to get one of them to accompany us. The An’kalym at Pyeyek were no more inquisitive than Naukum and could tell us little more than that the land looked the same there as here at least on the shore where they had visited. I suspect that was predictable since most shores look the same—either gravel, sand, or rock. We got in some dogsled practice while Naukum was gone, but the cold made these excursions necessarily brief.
Finally Naukum returned with a young Yugit (although he called himself a Yuit) named Taukujaa. He was about my age and in appearance resembled the Mongols except for the two ivory lip plugs in his lower lip at each end of his mouth. His hair was shaved on the crown like the An’kalym. He was very cheerful and friendly and had come from a village on the other side of the icepack to visit relatives. He was very impressed that I was called the Raven since it was their “creator” and thought I was very young for such a great title. I didn’t bother explaining how I got the name, but rather puffed up a bit, causing Juchi to suffer a sudden cough attack. He assured us we would be most welcome in his village. We asked him about the eastern land over our evening meal, and unlike the An’kalym, he was full of information. The land was very much broader than this land he assured us, and it extended far to the east. I found that hard to believe, but let him continue. Where his village was, the land was flat and marshy, but inland there were two great mountain ranges, one in the north and one in the south with a huge river valley in between. He had not been very far east, but there was a man in his village who had been to the mouth of a great river far in the east, which flowed north. He had only been as far south as the mouth of a more proximate “great” river, which flowed westward. I asked if there were mountains between these two rivers, but he wasn’t sure. He also couldn’t say how far east the near river went, but again there was a man in his village who had been quite far up it. His people only lived along the western part of the river as well as all along the north and west coast of the land. Another people lived farther inland where the weather was milder, but he knew little about them except that they were a weak, vile, thieving people. Again another man from his village could tell us more. I wondered to myself how these other people would describe the Yugit. Anyway, it would seem Taukujaa’s village would hold most of the answers to our second question, and Juchi and I were eager to set out.
Naukum felt the next day would be suitable for our run across the ice, and with a few extra dogs and as light a load a possible, we set out to Imaklik. Our heading seemed to be due southeast, and we set out at a punishing pace. From seeing rivers and lakes frozen over, one might expect the sea to also freeze smoothly. This is definitely not the case, however. Our path was necessarily circuitous because of the ridges, hills, and mountains of ice we encountered. The greatest danger was thin ice or even open water, but we encountered none of this. We had started well before light, but it was quite dark by the time the island loomed ahead like a mountain barely outlined by the pale waning moon. We found a village on the near shore and were received cordially, but with some curiosity and, I would think, suspicion. It was soon apparent why Naukum wanted a Yugit along, for Taukujaa’s presence did much to gain us welcome. We moved on to Inaklik the next day, all during daylight and twilight, for the first time in a long time. It was a much smaller island; actually, it also looked like the top of a mountain sticking out of the sea, but a smaller mountain. We passed around to a village on the eastern shore. Here our reception was even more cordial for Taukujaa’s aunt lived here, and we were prevailed upon to stay an extra day and tell stories. Naukum thought it a good idea to rest up the dogs for the longest leg of the passage. The Yugit houses were something like the An’kalym “caves” although they seemed to have more wood than bone and were covered with sod. They were rather square shaped with a smoke hole made of a hollow whalebone in the roof (that did not double as a summer entrance) and a long entrance corridor used year-round. The sleeping platforms were left open around the central hearth. We didn’t stay with his aunt, however. We had to stay in a large rectangular house called a kashim. It had sleep benches all around an open space. We had to do the storytelling in the open space and then return to our platform. During performances, the women would sit in the back and the children on the floor in front. Afterward, they would return to their houses, but most of the men, especially the unattached, would remain in the kashim for the night. there was not much privacy and with all the snoring, not very restful. Except for the shapes of the houses, this was pretty much the pattern among the Yugit we encountered.
We started off very early and were way out on the ice when the sky began to lighten. Again we encountered no thin spots, but did have to maneuver around or over several ridges, and it was well after dark when we arrived at last at a village on the other side. We were welcomed since they all knew Taukujaa, but again we had to stay over another day and tell stories. Finally we made the run to Taukujaa’s village, to the northeast along the coast, one more day’s journey. Here we were very warmly received, although all were surprised to see Taukujaa before spring. The next day we were “feasted” on fish and stories were demanded. Naukum repeated his whale hunt tale again, Juchi followed with a ridiculous old Mongol legend which was very well received, so I told them one of my grandfather Peter’s Bible tales about a holy man swallowed by a whale, and they all listened spellbound and agreed I had indeed earned the title “Raven.” It wasn’t easy being gracious while Juchi suffered another coughing spell, but I managed. I was glad I had a good memory for those tales. Then it was our hosts’ turn. One after the other got up and told long-winded, stretched-out silly stories, mostly aimed (successfully) as it turned out to put everyone to sleep.
The following day we could get down to business, so we prevailed on Taukujaa to introduce us to the knowledgeable men he had described some days earlier. It turned out only one of the three was in the village at the moment, a cousin of his named Ootoyuk. He proved to be very cheerful and delighted to talk about his adventures. He was the one who had been to the mouth of the north-flowing river, far to the east. There were mountains between the two rivers, but they were not too high in the north only far to the south. The north-flowing river drained a fairly flat wetland that extended endlessly to the south. The other people in the land besides the Yugit (although he pronounced it Inuit) were called the Itqilit. These were spread out in small bands that lived along the various rivers and streams and mostly hunted and fished. They looked something like the An’kalym, except for the tattoos. The Itqilit men painted their faces, but the women wore tattoos on their chin copied from the Inuit women. The Inuit would often raid the Itqilit and some would bravely fight and others would run away. The Inuit would carry off the Itqilit women as extra wives. Ootoyuk’s brother had such a wife. We later found out that “Itqilit” was an insulting name (it means “lousy”) the Inuit had given their neighbors.
It looked like most of our questions had been answered, but Juchi asked if he would be allowed to stay with them for a while. Ootoyuk and Taukujaa both assured him he would be most welcome, especially if he knew more stories, and so for that matter would I. When I got Juchi alone, he explained that he would best serve the tumen by staying here and scouting out the best path east to the north-flowing river, from which we could surely find a suitable place to settle. I should return and report. I pointed out that Kaidu might not appreciate me abandoning his grandson in such a place, but he brushed that aside and insisted his was the best course. I had to admit he had a point, but cautioned him not to let anyone know of our probable intentions, since he would be rather exposed and well beyond our help. I also insisted that he be back here by the following winter in case we were coming over or so I could retrieve him if we weren’t. He agreed and wished me luck. I wished him the same and urged him to be careful. He laughed and reminded me that mine was the more difficult journey. I would miss Juchi, we had been alone among strangers for over half a year, and he was the best of companions. The next day, Naukum and I left Taukujaa’s village and began the trek back.