Marthalik whispered delicately in his ear. "She is being modest. She has
had many more babies than her fingers and toes. But the others have married
and gone away, and she is ashamed because she has forgotten their names.
She was an old woman when this person was born, so she must have had babies
as many as three times her fingers and toes."
But the mother appeared to be in her twenties.
Dr. West scowled at Marthalik. She was teasing him again? Her smile faded.
She insisted these women never had twins. But he knew the physiological
child-producing limit for the human female was less than thirty full term
babies. All of these children could not have come from this one mother.
He turned to Marthalik to ask why she was putting him on. But Marthalik
was walking away. He realized his disbelieving scowl had hurt her feelings.
He wanted to rise and hurry after her.
Instead he tried to interrogate this mother as to the ages of her children.
He became baffled trying to write their ages opposite their names.
For at least eight names, she kept murmuring: "First summer."
"Which ones are seeing their second summer?" he sighed in defeat.
"That winter was too hungry for my babies." Staring down at her fingers,
she managed to name only four living children in their second summer,
who he presumed were -- all two years old?
"These four," she said, "are seeing their second summer. The others are
gone to Grandfather Bear," she sighed. "This person used their names
again this winter. This time they are alive because the whale fed us."
Dr. West stood up. Wearily he hoped when he'd interviewed enough mothers,
the true age-sex census pattern for the camp would become more clear and
this woman's confusion about which were her children would be explained.
In anthropology courses he'd learned that some primitive peoples have
ingenious adoption procedures. "Are many men and women who are your
relatives -- away hunting on the ice now? They have left their children
with you?"
As if he had hurt her feelings, the mother sniffed and turned away.
Retreating to the gravel beach he saw Marthalik sitting alone on the
skeleton of the whale.
She lowered her head as he approached. He hoped her feelings weren't
still ruffled because he'd scowled at her. He looked down at her bowed
head. She looked up at him. Suddenly, they both smiled.
Dr. West's foot poked the whale's rib. "You ate this whale?" he laughed.
She giggled. "The mosquito shot it very fast."
"You mean the Sanctuary Guards' helicopter shot it with a machine gun -- ?"
"Eh?"
"I think some of the Guards tried to help you." Dr. West knew modern
technological aid to these Eskimos was a violation of the whole Sanctuary
concept and of the Director's orders. Even from their copter the Guards
must have seen there would be mass starvation last winter, and they had
risked their jobs, killing the whale.
"Is it permitted for this person to ask a question?" Marthalik was watching
his face. "Out there -- are they people like us?"
"Didn't Edwardluk tell you? Doesn't your father know?"
"My father says everything has always been like this. He says for me to
be happy and babies will come. He says not to believe Peterluk."
"Old men remember the way things used to be."
"But old Peterluk says many men came out of a whale," she protested,
ducking her head and shoulders under the arched jawbone. "Would not men
drown inside a whale?"
"Perhaps this was an iron whale built by the whitemen."
"Even old Eevvaalik says Peterluk lies, and she is his wife. Eevvaalik say
only one man could come out of a whale and his name was Jonah. Every time
Peterluk tells his lies, there are more whitemen. He says the whitemen
must have killed all the caribou. Is this so?"
"This person does not know," Dr. West replied, "but will find out.
Truly, most whitemen would want to help you -- with more food."
These Eskimos seem so well adjusted now, Dr. West thought, if only they
had an emergency food supply they might be happier without any other
whitemen's help. Perhaps Hans Suxbey, Director of the Cultural Sanctuary,
was right when he wrote: A people are happiest when their whole culture
is like a single sunflower with the petals of their religion, songs,
sexual customs, artifacts and economy all consistently growing from the
flower's single center. Through their distinct history the ancient Eskimo~
achieved a beautifully unified culture.
But during the last century the introduction from the Outside of such
conflicting cultural petals as whitemen's technology and several religions
had caused the flower of Eskimo culture to disintegrate.
Dr. West knew his own presence here already was disturbing this unstable
cultural group. What he reported to the Outside, Dr. West thought as he
looked down at Marthalik, eventually might result in the disintegration of
this small new Eskimo culture. Unless he were careful, he might destroy
the essential meaning within her life.
"The whale is a good place to sit," she said, and he sat down beside her.
"Because you are strong," she said, "this person hopes you will see the bones
on the hill."
He assumed she meant caribou bones. "Are there still enough seals?
Do the hunters say -- " he asked, "will there be enough seals this winter?"
He was watching a distant hunter on the shore ice dragging in a small seal.
Running happily out were the children. When he turned his head, he caught
Marthalik smiling at him. Her hand rose. Instinctively, Dr. West took
her hand. She blushed, ducking her head.
"There will be enough seals," she murmured, "because Grandfather Bear
will come for us from the sky. This person hopes you to rise, too." She
had a warm hand as she stood up.
Smiling to himself, Dr. West stood up holding her hand. These Eskimos
still were trying to integrate a hundred years of Christian teachings
with a million years of animism.
Is this Grandfather Bear anything more
than the Christian concept of a Second Coming?
Was she telling him that
The Day of Judgment was close at hand?
As he walked up the hill with her, Dr. West thought he should reconsider
before turning in any report to those overeager ethnologists and
anthropologists at McGill University.
Eskimos aren't faceless dolls to
be played with for academic advancement.
He knew the McGill enemies of
Hans Suxbey hoped his report could be used in Parliament to break open the
Sanctuary. Those eager anthropologists would invade with more gum-chewing
grad students than there are Eskimos. He shortened his uphill strides,
realizing Marthalik had been trotting to keep up with him.
The hill still was shrouded with snow, but dark boulders were emerging.
"Many bones here," she said, and her hand sought his again.
Among the dislodged rock piles, scattered as if by the powerful digging
efforts of a huge carnivore, he blinked at splintered rib bones, small
femurs, crushed skulls. "My god! Hundreds of children."
"This person can remember three winters ago when she was small and hungry.
Under the snow we found rabbit droppings and chewed them." Surprisingly,
she laughed. "This winter we had the whale."
if so many children died, Dr. West thought quickly, how is it there are
such hordes of children in the camp? Such an overwhelming proportion
of children had to put an exhausting winter burden on the few adult
hunters. This child glut appeared even worse than in parts of South
America, where half the population was under fifteen years of age. This
Eskimo population must be multiplying even faster than South America's,
he thought. Down there in the barrios of South America, the attitude
toward family planning lagged far behind the Vatican's. Up here in the
Sanctuary there was neither whitemen's contraceptives nor traditional
Eskimo infanticide.
Each winter there will be more children starving,
more women starving --
As he squeezed Marthalik's hand, he knew he was going to attempt whatever
help was necessary to shield them from starvation this winter.
You will
not starve
, he thought strongly.
"This person will not starve?" She was staring up at him, openmouthed
with surprise.
Dr. West blinked. "You heard me?"
"This -- this person does not know -- what she heard. In her head -- "
"I thought too loudly," Dr. West laughed in reassurance, inwardly startled
because this hadn't happened to him since Harvard Med School when he used
to do beer-party tricks. He'd spooked one tall kid named Tom Randolph
so badly Tom transferred to the Psychology Department and still pestered
Dr. West every few years, even offering free beer, but Dr. Tom Randolph's
receptor tests with him had become increasingly inconclusive.
Thought
I'd lost the old feeling
, Dr. West thought.
Marthalik, Marthalik,
can you hear me?
"Soon the fish will come out of the sea," she was saying, looking far
down the hill at the river where women were arranging lines of boulders
in the estuary shallows for a fishtrap.
Marthalik, you are so pretty.
Now he was thinking so hard at her he
wasn't breathing, and his eyes blurred.
Marthalik -- so pretty.
Swaying, grinning, he thought this should be one message which must reach
into any woman if any message could, but Marthalik was chattering about
seal meat. He wasn't contacting her now. He'd never been able to break
through to Phyliss.
Marthalik, look at me!
But she was looking down at the camp. "Tonight this person will hand you
the best pieces of seal as if -- "
"As if what?" he laughed, challenging her.
Shyly she ducked her head. Walking down the hill she stopped. She struggled
to pick up a boulder. "This person needs it!" She looked up at him
helplessly.
He picked up the boulder she'd been unable to lift. He thought it weighed
perhaps twenty pounds, less than a fourth as much as his pack she'd carried,
and he grinned down at her. She was looking away as if afraid to look at
him while they walked down the hill. He guessed she was teasing him again,
but he'd never been able to read anyone's mind. He had enough trouble
reading his own. "This boulder has a pretty dimple like your cheek."
She giggled. But when he bent as if to put the boulder down, quickly she
seized his hand. "Please!" Her face flushed as if with embarrassment.
"This boulder is as heavy as you are," he joked.
She said nothing as they walked down the hill together.
Toward them children ran giggling and scampering around him, staring up
at him and tittering. Loudly shouting people flowed out of the tents,
smiling up at Dr. West, whose face was beginning to feel hot. Edwardluk
rushed out of the tent at him with such speed that Dr. West thought
for a moment he was being attacked and almost dropped the boulder.
But Edwardluk yanked it out of his hands. Surrounded by laughter, Dr. West
retreated after Edwardluk into the comparative privacy of the tent,
but everyone was crowding in. Marthalik's mother placed the dimpled
boulder beside the lamp.
" -- as pretty as her navel," she was saying in the uproar, while Eskimos
laughed and Dr. West blinked. He thought he'd learned quite a few Eskimo
customs, and this was not one of them. But he wasn't 100% stupid.
Marthalik was beaming with happiness. Sitting behind him at the evening
meal she handed him the best pieces of seal meat as she had predicted
she would. As if she must make sure the meat was good enough for him,
sometimes she would take a quick bite, chewing thoughtfully, then
handing the chunk to him. Others she rejected, searching for a better
piece for him.
With a full stomach, warm and comfortable beside her, Dr. West's pleasure
began as a chuckle at himself and grew into a mighty laugh worthy of
a hunter. Beside him Edwardluk's laugh rose from his belly. "You are a
strong man. Eating even more than this person again."
With increasing frequency during the evening Edwardluk shook Dr. West's
hand. "Grandfather Bear will be pleased." Plainly Edwardluk was more pleased
every minute.
In the crowded tent, hot with bodies, children scampered out of their parkas.
Uproariously, hunters told ribald stories. Dr. West noticed one unobtrusive
little boy speculatively rubbing his finger round and round in the dent
in the boulder. Edwardluk's laughter exploded at him, and the boy fled.
"That small boy can't even harpoon a baby seal."
Edwardluk tried to dance, with barely room for his feet to come down.
Guests clapped their hands and swayed. Marthalik snuggled against
Dr. West. In the mounting heat, visiting Eskimos were taking off their
parkas. But this evening, although her forehead glowed with perspiration,
Marthalik did not take off hers. Whenever he turned his face toward her
she quickly looked down at his other hand resting on her boot leg. Her
ear seemed red. Her cheek was flushed.
"Everyone must rest," Edwardluk shouted through the uproar, and the
adults laughed, except Dr. West who was looking at Marthalik, whose
averted face was red with -- embarrassment? She wasn't smiling now.