Read Online Across the Spectrum by Pati Nagle, editors Deborah J. Ross - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pati Nagle, editors Deborah J. Ross
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criticism, but I could see their heads nod as they chanted along with me under
their breath. When the test was done I stood panting while they conferred on my
performance. Finally Grandmother Koovianatuklook spoke: “You have performed
adequately.” That was all. They left me there to cleanse the ritual garments
and haul them back to camp by myself.
The next day the elders called a council of the whole clan.
When all were gathered, Grandfather Umingmak raised both hands and spoke: “Six
of the candidates have performed adequately, demonstrating a complete command
of our most sacred traditions and rituals. Of these six, it is traditional for
the elders to select the one of greatest strength and agility to represent our
clan in the great hunt. But on this occasion we have been unable to reach a
consensus. There are two candidates of equal qualification: Natsiq and Ukaliq.”
The blood roared in my ears, nearly drowning out his following words: “These
two will compete in the pole game to select our representative.”
Once again I cleansed myself, carefully inspected my sacred
costume, and sealed myself inside it. This time Natsiq—my father’s brother’s
daughter, and my companion in many games and hunts—performed the same rituals
beside me as she donned her own costume. Finally we faced each other, two
creatures of legend, and raised our hands in salute.
The poles were brought out, as tall as a person and brightly
painted, with two crossbars fixed at the top of each. The other candidates
raised the poles, two strides apart, and held them while Natsiq and I scrambled
to their tops. I hooked my thighs over the top crossbar and my feet under the
bottom one, to lock myself to the pole. My balancing rod, a long straight wand
of yew, was handed up to me. I was given a moment to find the center of the rod
and position it horizontally across my chest. I saw that Natsiq had done the
same. Then the other candidates released the poles, and the pole game began.
The last one vertical would be the victor.
For the first few moments we just teetered, rods wavering.
The people outside the circle of candidates shouted and cheered at each
movement. The muscles of my chest and back strained as I used my rod to counter
each motion before it could turn into a fall, and my legs and stomach burned
from clenching the crossbars.
Then I saw Natsiq’s rod swinging around toward me. I moved
my rod to block it, but nearly unbalanced myself in doing so. My left shoulder
felt as though it were tearing open, but by sheer luck I managed to knock
Natsiq’s rod with my own, so she was also distracted while I fought back to
center.
I took advantage of this opening to strike at Natsiq’s head;
my rod seemed to move as slowly as the greater moon in its path through the
sky. Natsiq managed to slip her rod under mine, and pushed up. But I pushed
down, sending both of us into a frenzy of waving and dipping to stay upright.
The crowd yelled encouragement; my breath roared in my headdress.
I nearly toppled, but saved myself by pushing at the ground
with my rod. Seeing me defenseless, Natsiq struck quickly, landing the end of
her rod squarely in the center of my chest. As I started to fall back, I did
the only thing I could: I pushed with my planted rod. A great cheer exploded
from the crowd as I overbalanced and started to fall toward Natsiq instead.
Natsiq’s rod still hovered before my chest. I released my
own rod and grabbed the end of hers. Natsiq’s eyes were wide behind her
ceremonial mask as I pushed wildly to stop my forward movement, pushing Natsiq
back. Her eyes never left mine as she tipped back, back, back, and landed in
the arms of the other candidates. I was left atop my pole with no rod, waving
my arms frantically, for a long moment before I too fell.
Natsiq and I struggled to our feet and saluted each other.
The noise of the crowd doubled as I unsealed my headdress; I waved at them,
then embraced Natsiq. She stiffened at first,
criticism, but I could see their heads nod as they chanted along with me under
their breath. When the test was done I stood panting while they conferred on my
performance. Finally Grandmother Koovianatuklook spoke: “You have performed
adequately.” That was all. They left me there to cleanse the ritual garments
and haul them back to camp by myself.
The next day the elders called a council of the whole clan.
When all were gathered, Grandfather Umingmak raised both hands and spoke: “Six
of the candidates have performed adequately, demonstrating a complete command
of our most sacred traditions and rituals. Of these six, it is traditional for
the elders to select the one of greatest strength and agility to represent our
clan in the great hunt. But on this occasion we have been unable to reach a
consensus. There are two candidates of equal qualification: Natsiq and Ukaliq.”
The blood roared in my ears, nearly drowning out his following words: “These
two will compete in the pole game to select our representative.”
Once again I cleansed myself, carefully inspected my sacred
costume, and sealed myself inside it. This time Natsiq—my father’s brother’s
daughter, and my companion in many games and hunts—performed the same rituals
beside me as she donned her own costume. Finally we faced each other, two
creatures of legend, and raised our hands in salute.
The poles were brought out, as tall as a person and brightly
painted, with two crossbars fixed at the top of each. The other candidates
raised the poles, two strides apart, and held them while Natsiq and I scrambled
to their tops. I hooked my thighs over the top crossbar and my feet under the
bottom one, to lock myself to the pole. My balancing rod, a long straight wand
of yew, was handed up to me. I was given a moment to find the center of the rod
and position it horizontally across my chest. I saw that Natsiq had done the
same. Then the other candidates released the poles, and the pole game began.
The last one vertical would be the victor.
For the first few moments we just teetered, rods wavering.
The people outside the circle of candidates shouted and cheered at each
movement. The muscles of my chest and back strained as I used my rod to counter
each motion before it could turn into a fall, and my legs and stomach burned
from clenching the crossbars.
Then I saw Natsiq’s rod swinging around toward me. I moved
my rod to block it, but nearly unbalanced myself in doing so. My left shoulder
felt as though it were tearing open, but by sheer luck I managed to knock
Natsiq’s rod with my own, so she was also distracted while I fought back to
center.
I took advantage of this opening to strike at Natsiq’s head;
my rod seemed to move as slowly as the greater moon in its path through the
sky. Natsiq managed to slip her rod under mine, and pushed up. But I pushed
down, sending both of us into a frenzy of waving and dipping to stay upright.
The crowd yelled encouragement; my breath roared in my headdress.
I nearly toppled, but saved myself by pushing at the ground
with my rod. Seeing me defenseless, Natsiq struck quickly, landing the end of
her rod squarely in the center of my chest. As I started to fall back, I did
the only thing I could: I pushed with my planted rod. A great cheer exploded
from the crowd as I overbalanced and started to fall toward Natsiq instead.
Natsiq’s rod still hovered before my chest. I released my
own rod and grabbed the end of hers. Natsiq’s eyes were wide behind her
ceremonial mask as I pushed wildly to stop my forward movement, pushing Natsiq
back. Her eyes never left mine as she tipped back, back, back, and landed in
the arms of the other candidates. I was left atop my pole with no rod, waving
my arms frantically, for a long moment before I too fell.
Natsiq and I struggled to our feet and saluted each other.
The noise of the crowd doubled as I unsealed my headdress; I waved at them,
then embraced Natsiq. She stiffened at first,
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