[[97]]
CHAPTER VII
Womanhood in the Arctics.
In the meantime, the women, left in the village on shore, have been far from idle. As soon as the husband has gone off for the day the wife sets about her domestic affairs. First, she rolls up the bedding and tidies the sleeping bench. The next job is to sweep the hoar-frost from the window and the cupola, to prevent the dripping of any moisture, and then to sweep up the floor—littered, likely enough, with the remains of a good feed overnight. These duties are performed with a brush made of the outspread wings of a duck or raven; it might almost be called a double-bladed brush. The backs are sewn together and the upper bones form the handle. Such a contrivance is a very handy affair altogether, and will last quite a long time.
The next task is to prepare a quantity of blubber for oil. This is pulped with a bone hammer or koutak, and the fuel so obtained is suspended over the shallow lamps in such a way as to dip into them and keep them supplied. New wick is fashioned from dried moss and cotton plant trimmed upon the lamps. Next comes the stew for supper. The Eskimos have only one way of cooking meat, and that is stewing it in the [[98]]stone “kettles” already described. These are partly filled with sea water for the sake of the salt, a quantity of seal’s blood is added, and then comes the meat. The whole thing hangs simmering over the lamps all day, and by the time the men come back at night a reeking hot meal is ready, rich, nourishing, and as tender as a sharp-set hunter could desire.
Water is the next consideration. The Eskimo housewife hauls it in skin buckets from the nearest stream, bailing it up through a hole in the ice; or, failing that, she brings in the ice itself, or snow, and sets it to melt over a spare lamp. These people are thirsty souls, and water is hard to come by in the winter. Every drop that can be obtained is used for drinking or cooking, so that washing (except the hands and face), is dispensed with perforce of arctic circumstance. Fresh water ice melts more quickly than beaten snow, and it is an interesting fact that an iron or tin pot used for melting the former will last much longer than for melting snow. The latter process causes it to become quickly pitted with spots of rust and perforated. Aluminium vessels last the longest. In the old days—i.e., prior to the establishments of trading posts—the Eskimos had no utensils of any sort except those of native manufacture from bone, or stone, or ivory. Nowadays they have steel-tipped spears, iron nails, and tinware for cooking purposes.
Perhaps the next most important employment of the feminine portion of the community is the preparation [[99]]of skins, the softening of leather, and the finer animal tissues, the washing, drying, and stretching of gut, and the manufacture of the marvellously fine sinew used for sewing and stitchery. All this includes the making of tents and clothing. The old women help the housewives as far as they are able, and the girls watch and learn, with a view to rendering themselves eligible in the eyes of the young men as accomplished brides-to-be. The women are perpetually employed chewing the edges of skins and leathers to make them pliable and soft for sewing. This process tends to wear down the teeth to very unsightly stumps.
The heavy work is done by the hale and hearty, who leave only the lighter tasks, such as the tending of the lamps and the minding of the house, to the older folk. Womanlike all the world over, the crones love to get together and indulge in unlimited gossip. All the women, indeed, pay a constant round of visits, and gathering, now here, now there, sit about smiling and gossiping, as is their wont from the tropics to the pole.
The Eskimo are a genial, jovial, peaceable people, among whom quarrelling is a crime, and he or she who disturbs the general peace is a villain of the deepest dye. So, whatever else comes of all the gossip, it is not—in an Eskimo village—malevolence, backbiting and spite. They talk—these fur-clad, hard-working women—of their last year’s journeyings, who and what they saw and heard, of their trials and vexations, of their children and relations and [[100]]husbands—each one’s contribution to the conversation being punctuated by a chorus of “Ah, Ah’s,” “Elarle! Elarle!” (Indeed! Yes!) from the rest.