Prologue:

The Writing of This Book

These stories began long, long ago. They have been told by our ancestors, from century to century, by passing them on from generation to generation, until I, William A. Oquilluk, came into this time.

I have heard of the Three Great Disasters of ancient times and saw the Fourth Disaster of later times. Each one killed most of the people, leaving only a few to survive on the land. Those who survived, each time, made the population grow up again in Northwestern Alaska. Each time those few left told their story of what happened in other centuries to the young ones while they were growing up.

If someone writes these stories down, it should bring understanding and thoughtfulness to anyone who reads them.

Writing down these stories began like this:

When I was a boy, I used to go into the kazghi with the others. Sometimes instead of dancing, they used to tell stories like the ones here. We used to hear these stories. People liked to listen to them, but it seemed nobody was interested in writing them down. I used to wonder about that.

When I was big enough to go to school, I was eight or nine years old. One time the teacher showed us George Washington’s picture. He told us this was the First President and things like that about him. Then he asked us, “Do any of you fellows have any stories like that about your ancestors?”

I raised my hand. I told him, “Yes, my grandfather knows those stories.” He said, “Will you please go get your grandpa now?” I told him my grandpa did not speak much English. Then he asked me, “Do you know somebody who could interpret those stories from your grandpa’s language for us?” I told him, “My uncle can do it but he cannot walk. His legs are bad.” So the teacher had some of the bigger boys go and get him. They carried my uncle, John Utkook, to the schoolhouse.

My grandpa told us some of the stories in this book. The school teacher said those stories were very interesting, but he did not write any of them down. He sure did like to hear them, though.

A few years later another school teacher came. His name was H.D. Reese. He liked those stories, too, and was going to write them down. He had so much to do he never had a chance to get that done. When I got to the sixth grade Mr. Reese told me, “Now you remember those stories your grandpa told you. You should write them down. They are interesting and important stories about the first Eskimos and the troubles they had with the disasters.”

I started thinking about that, and decided it was a good idea to try to write them down. I knew I might miss some of them and not get all of them done, but I could try, anyway. I could get most of them. Most of the stories were written down when our house burned. That was in 1918. I did not start writing them again until two or three years later. I am still writing them down now.

One reason I decided the stories should be written is because of what I learned when I traveled around quite a bit. I heard these same stories other places but nobody was putting them on paper. I heard these things first from my grandpa. Then I heard them from an old man at Sinruk River. He did not know my grandpa. He told me he had heard these stories lots of places in his life time. He said maybe this was the last time he would tell them to anyone, because he was getting so old.

Another time I was at a place down from Brevig Mission. There was an old man there. He told me the same stories. After he finished I asked him where he got those stories. He said he heard them from his grandfolks.

Next time, when we went over to Koyuk River area for hunting we went by Council City. There was a man over there who was not too old, but old enough. He told these same stories. He said he heard them up around Golovin and White Mountain from the old people there.

The places that the stories tell about like the caves, the places on the land, the graves, are all those things I have seen. The only place I did not go was where they got those sharp rocks to make oolus and knives. That was pretty high up and it is a dangerous place to climb. My grandpa did not want to take me up there because I might get hurt. It was pretty steep. He just showed me where it was. My grandpa used to take me to all those places he told me about. Other places I know about because I saw them later when I was herding the reindeer or hunting. It would not be right to put things into the stories I did not know about myself. If people want to, they can see these places for themselves, too. The young people and the children coming along should see how their ancestors used to live by the land. They should hear the stories of their forefathers. That is why I have written these things down.