Nevertheless, many of the fragments of superstition and tradition that we were able to collect agree remarkably with what has been observed among the Eskimo elsewhere, so that it is highly probable that their religion is of the same general character as that of the Greenlanders, namely, a belief in a multitude of supernatural beings, who are to be exorcised or propitiated by various observances, especially by the performances of certain specially gifted people, who are something of the nature of wizards. So much has been written by many authors about these wizards or “doctors,” the angekut of the eastern Eskimo, the so-called “shamans” of Alaska and Siberia, that I need make no special reference to their writings except where they happen to throw light on our own observations. Dr. Simpson succeeded in obtaining more information concerning the religious belief of these people than our party was able to do, and his observations,[610] to which ours are in some degree supplementary, tend to corroborate the conclusion at which I have arrived.
Our information in regard to the special class of wizards was rather vague. We learned that many men in the village, distinguishable from the rest by no visible characteristics, were able to heal the sick, procure good weather, favorable winds, plenty of game, and do other things by “talking” and beating the drum. We did not learn the number of these men in either village, but we heard of very many different men doing one or the other of these things, while others of our acquaintance never attempted them. Neither did we learn that any one of these men was considered superior to the rest, as appears to be the case in some regions, nor how a man could attain this power. Some of these men, who appeared to give particular attention to curing the sick, called themselves “tû´ktĕ” (“doctor”), but, probably for want of properly directed inquiries, we did not learn the Eskimo name of these people. We were definitely informed, however, that their “talk,” when treating disease or trying to obtain fair weather, etc., was addressed to “tu´ɐña,” or a supernatural being. This name, of course, differs only in dialectic form from that applied in other places to the universal familiar spirits of Eskimo superstition.
We at first supposed that “tuɐña” meant some particular individual demon, but Dr. Simpson is probably right in saying that the Point Barrow natives, like the rest of the Eskimo, recognize a host of tuɐñain, since “tuɐña” was described to us under a variety of forms. Most of the natives whom we asked if they had seen tuɐña, said that they had not, but that other men, mentioning certain “doctors,” had seen him. One man, however, said that he had seen tuɐña in the kûdyĭgĭ, when the people “talked” sitting in the dark, with their heads bowed and faces covered, and tuɐña came with a noise like a great bird.[611] He had raised his head and saw tuɐña, like a man with bloodless cheeks.[612] Tuɐña again was called “a bad man, dead” (apparently a ghost), sometimes as large as a man and sometimes dwarfish, sometimes a fleshless skeleton, while one man, to describe him, made the same grimace that a white man would use to indicate a hobgoblin, with staring eyes, gaping mouth, and hands outstretched like claws. Apparently “tuɐña” in conversation with us was used to designate all the various supernatural objects of their belief, ghosts as well as familiar spirits. For instance, in Greenland, according to Rink,[613] a ghost “manifests himself by whistling or singing in the ears.” Now, Lieut. Ray was walking rapidly one day in the winter with an Eskimo and his wife, and the woman suddenly stopped and said she “heard tuɐña”—that he made a noise like singing in the ears.
The people generally have a great dread of “tuɐña,” who they say would kill them, and are very averse to going out alone in the dark. One of each party that came over from the village in the evening usually carried a drawn knife, preferably one of the large double-edged knives, supposed to be Siberian and already described, in his hand as defense against tuɐña, and a drawn knife was sometimes even carried in the daylight “nanumunlu tuɐñamunlu,” “for bear and demon.” Notwithstanding their apparently genuine dread of “tuɐña,” they are by no means averse to talking or even joking about him.
The knife also serves as a protection against the aurora, which most of them agree is bad, and when bright likely to kill a person by striking him in the back of the neck. However, brandishing the knife at it will keep it off. Besides, as a woman told me one night, you can drive off a “bad” aurora by throwing at it dog’s excrement and urine.[614]
Lieut. Ray saw in one of the houses in Utkaiwiñ, a contrivance for frightening away a “tuɐña” from the entrance to a house should he try to get in. The man had hung in the trapdoor the handle of a seal-drag by means of a thong spiked to the wall with a large knife, and told Lieut. Ray that if “tuɐña” tried to get into the house he would undoubtedly catch hold of the handle to help himself up, which would pull down the knife upon his head and frighten him off. We never had an opportunity of witnessing the ceremony of summoning “tuɐña,” nor did we ever hear of the ceremony taking place during our stay at the station, but we were fortunate enough to observe several other performances, though they do not appear to be frequent. The ceremony of healing the sick and the ceremonies connected with the whale-fishery have already been described.
On the 21st of February, 1883, Lieut. Ray and Capt. Herendeen happened to be at the village on time to see the tuɐña, who had been causing the bad weather, expelled from the village. Some of the natives said the next day that they had killed the tuɐña, but they said at the same time he had gone “a long way off.” When Lieut. Ray reached the village, women were standing at the doors of the houses armed with snow-knives and clubs with which they made passes over the entrance when the people inside called out. He entered one house and found a woman vigorously driving the tuɐña out of every corner with a knife. They then repaired to the kûdyĭgi, where there were ten or twelve people, each of whom, to quote from Lieut. Ray’s note book, “made a charge against the evil spirit, telling what injuries they had received from it.” Then they went into the open air, where a fire had been built in front of the entrance, and formed a half circle around the fire. Each then went up and made a speech, bending over the fire (according to Simpson, who describes a similar ceremony at Nuwŭk on p. 274 of his paper, coaxing the tuɐña to come under the fire to warm himself). Then they brought out a large tub full of urine, to which, Simpson says, each man present had contributed, and held it ready near the fire, while two men stood with their rifles in readiness, and a boy stood near the fire with a large stone in his hands, bracing himself firmly with his feet spread apart for a vigorous throw. Then they chanted as follows (the words of this chant were obtained afterward by the writer):
Tâk tâk tâk tohâ!
Nìju´a hâ!
He! he! he!