Alaska & Canada

In the small, isolated town of Barrow, Chie Sakakibara lived and conducted research among the Iñupiaq (or Iñupiat) people to understand their cultural and spiritual connection to whales and how this is impacted by climate change. The Iñupiaq hunt bowhead whales in the Spring and Fall seasons; fishing and hunting for caribou and seals during other times of the year. Their reliance on the sustenance provided by the bowhead whale has lead them to call themselves the people of the whales.

 

Before and after the annual hunting season, the Iñupiaq conduct several rituals which includes drumming and singing. These rituals provide a spiritual connection to the whales that they will hunt that season or the next. For example, the center of musical expression of the Iñupiaq is a simple drum made from the lining of the stomach, lungs or liver of a whale. Water is ritually poured into the drum to keep the membrane moist, similar to how a whaling captain’s wife will feed a hunted whale fresh water to quench its thirst. One of the traditional performers of this ritual, Fannie Akpik, describes the drum ceremony this way, “our drum speaks the language of the whale…” (291). The drum ceremony is described as creating a space where humans are in communion with the whales.

 

In an examination of Mi’kmaq Cosmology, Anne-Christine Hornborg provides insight into this realm of human and animal communion that serves as the foundation of Iñupiaq whaling rituals. The Mi’kmaq people live in the region of southeastern Canada, but similar to the Iñupiaq, they relied on whales as part of their subsistence. In a tale about a human woman marrying a whale, Hornborg argues that spiritual unity between humans and animals allows important alliances to be formed, such as the relationship between the Iñupiaq and the bowhead whale. The Iñupiaq believe that they give the whale eternal life by not only consuming it, but creating so many tools and ceremonial objects from the entirety of its body; in return, the whale offers themselves up to the whalers.

 

In this verbal and material folklore, the Iñupiaq ritually perform ceremonies that parallel their whale hunts, while also using tools provided by the whale and sing songs to thank the whales. In this sense, the whale-centered folklore crafted by the the Iñupiaq is deeply tied to their natural and material world, and the importance of the whale to their subsistence in the arctic informs how they self-identify: the people of the whales. The beauty of folklore is that is is ever changing and adaptable; this is perfectly illustrated in how the Iñupiaq are coping with the changing climate and its effect on whale migration. In the past, the Iñupiaq would not drum dance if they had a low whale harvest “because our people knew the whales would return the following season if we remained humble and quiet” (300), however, with the change of migratory patterns due to melting ice, this verbal folklore can be adapted, and some Iñupiaq whalers argue that they should drum even more to remind the whales that they are there and waiting for them.