The photographs in this chaptervisually illustrate aspects oftherelationshipsthatElimresidents have with theland, animals, subsistence activities, and each other. They also provide insightinto the relationship between myself (thephotographer, researcher, neighbor, etc.) and community members.
The images presented herearepart of a collection of over 3000 photographsthat were taken, primarily over the course of threeyears(2010-2012), during the most concentrated period of timeIhave spent in the community. Thesephotographs were taken in many different contexts, ranging from when visiting with people in their homes, to being out in thecountry during subsistence-related trips,walking around thecommunity, and being called upby residents and told to go someplace because, ‘You're going to want to take a picture ofthis!'Mycamerawas nearly omnipresent during the work thatIdid in Elim. Based on over a decade of social science work in Elim and other communities in theregion,Ihave taken over 13,000photographs,which havebeen widely used in reports, outreach and education materials, and presentations in a variety of settings (e.g. to government officials, resource management bodies, other scientists, and so on). Inmyexperience,visualdocumentationof region residents'wayof life and ways of being is extremely important to Indigenous residents ofthe region. It has also proven to be important and effective in conveying those ways of life and being (and the values, concerns, and needs of people) to broad audiences to assist in enhancing cultural awareness, forwarding policy recommendations, and transmitting other information.
Names of many of the individuals in the photos are included in this chapter in the photo captions. This should not be taken as an indication that those individuals directly participated in this research (e.g. through interviews or focus groups), but rather only that consent was obtained for being photographed and for the use of those photos in this dissertation.
One ofthe most memorableexperiencesofmytime in Elim is highly connected to mycamera and visual documentationofthe place, people, events and environment; however, this experience wasnotdocumentedvisually. One fall Iwasvisitingthefish camp atMoses Point with an Elder
from Elim.Our plan was to stay for several daysbecausesheenjoyedspendingtimeather cabin in camp, though we weren't there to fish. To reach thecamp, you must crossthemouth of the Kwiniuk (Moses Point) River by boat, and a fellow resident brought us across along with her four-wheeler. Initially, there were a handful of other people atthe camp fishing and doing other activities. The weather took a turn fortheworse and everyone left camp amidst rainy and foggy weather thatwasnotconducive to fishing and drying fish. We planned to stayfor a couple more days and eventuallyget a rideback across theriver and driveher four-wheeler back to the village.
While in camp, we needed to collectdriftwoodforthe stove. At first we gathered what woodwas available immediately adjacent to thecabinonthe beach. After a day ortwo we realized we needed to go further downthebeach where there wasmorewood available. We drove her four wheeler downthe beach a ways and then went up along the high tidemark and alsointothe beach grass to look formore wood. Onethe way back to camp we went further downthewide beach towards the water. I suddenlylookeddown and saw small barefoot footprints in the sand. They were very clear and distinct, and looked tobe made byafoot about thesize of an18-24 month-old human.
There was only one set of footprints. The beach, from the waterline up to thebeach grass, was quite wide at thispoint - at least 100 feet. The sand was completely smooth, asthe tide had gone outnotlongbefore we arrived. Istoppedtolookcloser at the footprints, tolook back and forth along thebeach, tolook from the water to the grass. Thesewere real footprints, butthere was no way a small childwould be out hereall alone, andthere was no sign of anyone else. I pointed out the footprints to the Elder, and shecame over toobserve themas well. I saidto her, “Wheredid thesefootprints come from?” She didn'tknow. I pointed outthat we were aloneat campandthat it looked like achildhad made theprints. She agreed.
Wedetermined that we shouldfollowthe footprints inboth directions and each took off to doso. We bothwalked away from each other, observingtheground, andafterabout 30 feeteach we stoppedandturned around. The footprints had ended - simply disappeared. They didnot go down tothewateror up tothe grass. They approximatelyfollowed the center of thebeach, for
about 60 to 70feet in total. As we slowly walked back towards each other Icouldn't stop thinking,“We're alone.We're alone outhere. There's no one else. Who made thosefootprints?” As we approached each other I said, “They end right over there.” Shesaidthe same, gesturingin theother direction. I asked her who couldhave possibly made those footprints. She said she didn't know, and that we had better go back to hercabinatcamp.
We rode back, brought in thewood and added some to the already burning stove. Icouldn't stop thinking aboutthe footprints. We sat at the table and dranksometea and lookedoutthewindow, and looked ateach other - allin silence. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and said, “We're alone! There's no onehere!Whomade those footprints?!”She again repeated that she didn't know and that we were definitely alone - noddingtowardsthebeach andnotingthatthere were no boats on this side ofthe river. Determinedto verify this fact, or discoversome other
information, I went aroundthe campto every single cabin and structureand looked inside or knocked on doors. No one was at camp anymore on thismisty, chilly fallday.
Ireturned to the cabin - a little bit confused, alittle bit distraught, and a little bit concerned. I sharedmy results: “There's no one elsehere. We're alone.”The Elder nodded in agreement. “Who made those footprints, then?” Ihalf-demandedto know. Then, either coming to terms with it herself, or tired ofme asking the same question over and over, she said it must have been “that little man,” and she proceededto tell me astory. Shehadneverseen him herself, but she knew about a ‘littleman' that spenttime near this Moses Point camp inthe past. ‘Littlepeople,' as they are colloquially called in English in rural Alaska, are not-exactly-humanpersonsthat live outin the tundra,or forest, ormountains. They are small in stature,typically about 3 feet tall. They wear traditional Eskimoclothing suchasfurandleather. Theycarry and use traditional hunting implements like spears and bows andarrows. They usually speak Yup'ik or Inupiaq, butrarely speak English. Little peopleare extremely strong - disproportionately sofortheirsize. They are often benevolent, butnot always. And, among other characteristics, duetotheir small size they make very small footprints, andthey often do not wear footwear.
TheElder related that the littleman that she had heard about hada social relationshipwithan Elder who had passed away quite afew years ago. They were friendly andeventraded food. The
little man would sometimes tell the Elder about items he wanted from the store in Elim, including cigarettes. The Elder would promise to bring them to a certain spot along the beach nearthe camp. Whenthe Elder wouldarriveatthespot with the groceries, cigarettes, orother requested items, hewouldfind dry fishorother Native foods waiting for him, in exchange.This relationship carried onfor many years.
As I sat atthe table listening to her tell me about this little man, I looked over atmycamera, which wasonthetable.She asked ifI took apictureofthe footprints. I hadn't! This omnipresent pieceof equipment, which I was always usingor thinking about using, wasliterallyhanging around myneckas I looked downatthe sand and baffling footprints. Icouldn't believe thatI had nottakena photo. She couldn't believe she hadn't toldme to. I wanted to go back, butitwas already getting dark out.She, and laterothersback in the village, would talk about how,whena personexperiencessomethinglike that, often‘your brain won't work right.' Somehow,whatever beings orspiritsor energies thatare around you somehow prevent you from thinking and acting normally. Thatwas why I hadn't taken a photo.
In a day or two we left camp whenaboat arrived and agreed to ferry usback over tothe other sideofthe river. There were a few other Elim residents there, doing various activities. We packed upthe four-wheeler, chatted with afew people, briefly toldour story about thefootprints, and headed back to the village, sheonherfour-wheeler, and me in another vehicle. A fewhours later, when visiting with someone else, people began to askme questions about thefootprints and the little man. I realized thatthe news of our experience had traveled back to, and through, the village almost as fast as we had. People were interested and curious, and Itoldthestory several times. All agreed thatit must have been alittle person. All asked to see photos ofthe footprints. And all seemed to understand whenIsaidthatthe thought of taking a photo never even entered my mind, though Iwas wearing my camera around my neck. Another Elder in the village said to someof us thatitwas to beexpected;when you experience somethinglike that, other powers are at play and could prevent you from documentingwhat you saw or experienced.
While myphotographic mindset wasnot operational during thatexperience,itwasvery
and unusual experiences oftheirown, and their thoughts and perspectives on those experiences. How thosestories and experiences translate into values and contribute to things like personal and group identities are complex and important. Those conversations(and others) and my own experience latercontributed to another ongoing project thatspeaks in great detail to the value and importance ofsimilarstories and experiences to the residents ofthis region, including Elim.
Inthis case, nothaving taken aphotographwasasimportant as taking one.
Thephotographs in this chapter weretaken with a high degree of intentionality, with theaim of illustrating someofthe lived realities of village residents, particularly as relates to subsistence. While byno means comprehensive,these images provide insightinto these realities and relationships and,it is hoped, they alsohelp ground and connectthe reader to thisparticular community.
While these photographsare presented here as adistinct portion of this dissertation, these images shouldnotbeviewedas entirely separate from it, orasan‘add-on'.Theimages relate to specific themes discussed in other chapters and have short captions describingsomeofwhatthey
Figure 2: This drawing was made by a young child foran Elim resident returning to thevillage aftertimespentaway from the community. While simple in design, it expresses the attitude of many Elim residents - thattheir village is ahome - a safe, familiarplace, where people are comfortable. This implies the deep connectionstoplacethatElim residents have forthevillage properas well as the lands thatare ownedbytheTribal Corporation. (Anonymous artist).
Figure 3: AnElim resident processes salmonat a fish camp in Norton Bay. Processing salmon and other subsistence resources are skills thatare honed over a lifetime of experience.While both women and men catch and process salmon,the cutting offish remains a fairly gendered activity, with women taking the lead. Dryfish and salmonstripsare preferred foods formany Elim residents, though much salmon is also putawayas frozen filets; fermented salmon partsare notcommonly prepared. Salmonstrips and dry fish, as well as wholeor fileted salmon, area food that is shared, traded, and sold in thecommunity.
Figure 4: A home in Elim withsalmon drying and a gardenplot. Some residents supplement their hunting, fishing and gathering activities with gardens, aswell as through barter, trade and sharing, and with store-bought foods.
Figure 5: WymanAnasogakbringing a salmon to an Elder. Sharing isanimportantcultural value for Elim residents. Sharing is practiced with a variety of people for many different reasons. For example, food is often shared with Elders whoareno longer able to harvest theirown. Residents alsoshare with others who may lacktransportation, who have experienced a loss, or for many other reasons.
Figure 6: ElderKennethKatonganwithtools to builda sled. The loss of traditional skills, such as sled-building,is aconcernto many Elim residents, particularly Elders. Becauseof the high cost of modern transportation(and allits accoutrements), many believe that it isessential that traditional skills are passed on to and embraced by younger generations.
Figure 7: Snowmachines and boatsonthebeach in front of Elim prior to hunting.Contemporary subsistence activities frequently entail the use of manufactured boats, outboardengines,
snowmachines, and a varietyof other equipment and the means to power them. Lack of access to transportation is discussed bysome Elim residents asa major impediment to carrying out
Figure 8: Elim residents at Cingigpak (Caches) fishcamp. Many adults living in Elim today recall their experiences atfish camp as formative, and describe those experiences asvery
positive. Most younger people today donot spend anywhere nearas much time at campor out in thecountryastheir parents and grandparents did. Some Elim parents and guardians discussed theirefforts to make surethat their children spent at leastsometimeat camp each summer to ensure they have experiences outsidethe village, can connect with traditional lands, and to remove them from the many technological distractions of village life. Adults also speak about time at camp orout in the country asan important way to ‘disconnect' fromthose same distractions and nurture their own well-being.
Figure 9: Darla Jemewouk cooks beach greens on the shore in front of Elim. These greens were preparedto be later fermentedand mixed withblueberries. Fermented greens (and other
fermented foods) arenotcommonlyproduced in Elim today andthefew residents who know how tomake them are considered expertsin such activities. Recipesandtechniques are passed onbetween andacrossgenerations.
Figure 10: A hunterandElim children examining abelugathatwas just harvested. Marine mammal hunting, particularly beluga hunting, is animportantactivity forElim.Hunters and marine mammals have a complex and complicated relationship.For example,Elim hunters have talked about the intelligence of belugaandtheirability to learnover time to evade hunters. Many hunters considera successful huntto mean thatthe animalhas willingly given itself tothe hunter.
Figure 11: A young boy attempts to help haul in a recently harvested beluga. Traditionally, young people learned about subsistenceactivitiesearly in life by watching their relatives and by participating.Not all youth havethesameopportunitiesfor these learning experiences today, a circumstance that is of concern to many Elimresidents.
Figure 12: Elim hunters divide uptheir harvest of beluga from a spring hunt on the beach in front of thecommunity. Each boat captain has their own method for dividing the catch. Beluga is shared within thecommunityas well as beyond it.
Figure 13: Julia Moses displayingher artwork, which shows a woman ice fishing. This artwork wasa product ofthebilingual/biculturaleducationclass, which is currently apart of the
curriculum at Aniiguin School in Elim. Aniiguin is animportant person in local history, including for, among other things, being one ofthe founders of Elim and a well-known seal hunter.
Figure 14: Wild onionscollectedduring aboatingtrip, salmon spread, crackers and homemade bread. Plants and berries areimportant subsistence foods. Some families return to the same berry patches, wild onion patches, and other plantharvest areas eachyear. Theselocations are often informal camping areas (e.g. with no permanent structures, like cabins), orare only visited for a few hours at a time.
Figure 15: Beluga muktuk, dried black meat (seal), and a jar ofseal oil packed as a lunch for a boating trip.Subsistence foods areoften packed fortripsintothe country and aresaid to keep you full longer, and more satisfied, than store-boughtfood.
Figure 16: Harry Danielskeepingtrackof belugaand beluga hunters off shoreinfrontof Elim. Elders and retired hunters often give advice and supportto younger hunters in thevillage.
Figure 17: Helga Saccheus and Ralph Saccheus (on four-wheeler) wait amongst other Elim residents watching beluga hunters return to the shore in frontofthe village. Hunters use both rifles and nets to harvest the animals. Communitymembersusethecliffs in the background to spot belugaout in thebay.Thecommencementofthe spring beluga hunt is a highly anticipated event.
Figure 18: WallaceAmaktoolik butchering moose meatoutside his home. Elim residentshunt formoose asfarawayasthe upper Koyuk River.The cost offuel can be limitingor prohibitive forsome residents who want totravelbeyondthevillage limits to hunt, fish, orgather
subsistence foods. Some hunters will pool financialresources to buyfuel.Non-hunters may also contribute fundsto a huntingor fishing party and receive a share ofthe harvest in return.
Figure 19: Lolita Nakarak expertly processing salmon at herfamily's camp at Cingigpak (Caches). Cingigpak camp can only bereachedby boat or by four-wheeler (after crossingthe mouth ofthe Kwiniuk (Moses Point) River). Some camps here havebeen washed awayor damagedby storms orhave fallen into disrepair.
Figure 20: A young woman plucking agoose onthe banks ofacreek in Elim. Birds are a valued subsistencefood. There is a place nearCingigpak (Caches) camp whose native place name