On the Run in Siberia

10. Land of Shadows

155 10 land of shadows Being with the old Yukaghir couple instills a warmth in my heart that I have been missing for too long. I can feel how their affectionate care dispels all my gloomy thoughts. Akulina is constantly laying tidbits on the table in front of me: boiled moose muzzle, raw kidney, and marrow, which I have gradually come to regard as genuine delicacies, but also more conventional treats such as caramels, chocolate, and condensed milk with sugar. All the while I sit gorging myself, she strokes my hair affectionately , or else she tells one incredible story after the other. Some are ancient myths, while others are her own personal experiences from the taiga, or a mixture of both. They are exciting in any case, and I meticulously write down every single story in the notebook I have brought with me. In the evening, when I am lying in my sleeping bag, Akulina gives me a goodnight kiss on the forehead, and by day Gregory lends me his SKS automatic rifle so that I can go hunting. With time they even begin to call me their “son,” and I have come to love them with the affection of a son. One evening, when we are sitting chatting, the conversation turns to shamanism. Akulina tells me that even though she knows that there used to be shamans living in Nelemnoye, she never saw them perform. Gregory says nothing, and soon the topic of our conversation changes. The next morning I go out hunting, and then something strange Igor Khan, the oldest living Yukaghir. 156 . land of shadows happens. A bush moves, and a moment later an enormous dark brown bear’s head sticks forth, and two peculiar-looking eyes rest inquisitively on me. I give out a small roar but otherwise stand stockstill with my finger ready on the trigger. My heart beats as if my chest is about to explode. Only fifteen feet separates us, and we stand looking at each other without moving. This lasts a minute or two, I suppose , but it feels like a very long time. Fearful thoughts shoot through my head: “If the bear has cubs nearby, it is sure to hurl itself at me. Should I shoot now, or wait and see?” I choose to stay calm. The bear turns around, and I feel a twitch, a fine shock through my nerves. I see its hairy shoulder turning, and its shaggy back follows behind, before it finally disappears into the brush. This is like a nod to me. I sense this fine gesture of peace in my blood, and I back slowly away along the path I came. . . . Safely home in the cabin, I sit down at the table and am about to recount my adventure when Akulina intercepts me. In the course of the day, she has persuaded Gregory to tell me about his mother, who was in fact a shaman (Yukaghir, a’lma). “He has never told it to anybody before, not even me,” she explains , “because it was not always easy and actually had a price for his family. But he wants you to know it, because you are our son and he knows that that kind of information is important for your work.” Gregory begins to explain in Yukaghir, and Akulina translates into Russian. “When I was a boy, the men’s hunting luck sometimes ran out, and we were left without food. Then my father used to ask my mother for help. ‘Do you want me to sin again?’ she replied. She was afraid to use her magic powers and only did it when we were starving. The whole family gathered in one room. A willow twig with four branches was placed in the middle of the floor. Then my mother went down on all fours and began to imitate the movements of a moose. A little infant was placed on her neck to represent pe’jul. After a while, she fell into a kind of ‘trance’ (Russian, kamlaniye) and began to grunt as she land of shadows . 157 swung her head back and forth like a moose. She then moved over to the twig and began to eat off its branches. “At that point my father gave me a small toy bow and arrow, and said, ‘You see the moose, shoot it in the heart.’ This I did, after which my mother fell over...