Sivulliq: Ancestor


 
 
 
 
 
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 Epicenter Press is a regional press publishing nonfiction books about the arts, history, environment, and diverse cultures and lifestyles of Alaska and the Pacific Northwest. 
 For more information, visit www.EpicenterPress.com
 Sivulliq: Ancestor
 Copyright © 2023 by Lily H. Tuzroyluke
 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Permission is given for brief excerpts to be published with book reviews in newspaper, magazines, newsletters, catalogs, and online publications.
 Cover illustration: Holly Nordlum
 Cover design: Scott Book
 Interior design: Melissa Vail Coffman
 ISBN: 978-1-684920-41-9 (Trade Paperback)
 ISBN: 978-1-684920-42-6 (eBook)
 Library of Congress Control Number: 2022936026
 Produced in the United States of America
 
 
 
 
 For my children Ataŋauraq, Samaruna, and Nasugluk, my parents Koo’teen and Kinavaq,and two women who helped raise me—my maternal grandmother Kaajasaadei, and maternal auntie Kahs-gay. 
 For Indigenous leaders fighting for tribal sovereignty and our ancient ways of life.
 For Tikigaqmiut.
 For our Ancestors, past, present, and future. 
 Contents
 Acknowledgments
 1 | Epidemic
 2 | Erysichthon
 3 | Our Birthing Place
 4 | Bracken River
 5 | Rat King
 6 | Naluagmiut (White Men)
 7 | Cutting In
 8 | My Scalp
 9 | Fresh Meat
 10 | Reverend John Beach Driggs, MD
 11 | The Eskimo Child
 12 | You’ll Carry This Axe Now
 13 | Dining In Captain’s Quarters
 14 | Ancient Monolith
 15 | The Stone Peoples
 16 | US Revenue Cutter Lacina
 17 | Storm from the South
 18 | There She Blows!
 19 | River Break-up
 20 | Man Overboard!
 21 | Climbing Her Ship
 22 | Take a Greenhorn!
 23 | Herschel Island
 24 | Naluagmiut Town
 25 | Tattooed Man
 26 | Why Stay Awake
 27 | Stormy Seas
 28 | Interpreter of Dreams
 29 | Her Mother
 30 | Sivulliq: Ancestor
 Acknowledgments
 
 Taikuu suuna to my mother Shirley Koo’teen Tuzroyluke, parent, grandparent, leader, role model, teacher, master artist, matriarch, and mother to many. Taikuu suuna to my late father Emmanuel Kinavaq Tuzroyluke, hunter, whaler, harpooner, ironworker, Vietnam veteran, and commercial crab fisherman. Taikuu for your love, patience, virtues, ideologies, and dedication as parents and grandparents.
 Taikuu suuna to my kind-hearted, gentle, strong, and loving children—Ataŋauraq, Samaruna, and Nasugluk. You bless my life with joy and happiness. You make me laugh every day. You’ve directed me to this path as a writer. I pray you follow in the footsteps of our Ancestors—protect our subsistence way of life and tribal sovereignty, practice compassion for all-living things, and continue our cultural traditions. Value the bowhead whale over oil, giving over receiving, shared knowledge over self-interest, and public service over industry.
 Taikuu suuna to the Tuzroyluke and Hank families of Tikigaq, my relatives, for always making me feel at home. Taikuu to my nieces and nephews, your auntie will love and support you.
 Taikuu suuna to the Indigenous leaders who helped form my values, ideologies, life goals and objectives. I’ve witnessed my Indigenous leaders fight oil and gas industries, rightfully question governmental authorities, dedicate their personal time, and tell their stories. I owe much gratitude to Rex Kayaliruk Tuzroyluk, Jr., late Jakie Koonuk, late Ray Koonuk, Sr., Caroline Cannon, Samarun Oviok, Sr., late Luke Koonook, and late Enoch Tooyak. 
 Taikuu to my writing mentor Bill Henderson who introduced me to the world of writing and dedicated many years to my craft, ability, and story ideas by sharing his knowledge, providing edits, and overseeing all minute logistics in the publishing process. 
 Taikuu suuna to my noble Ancestors. You survived genocide, wars, exploitation, land thefts, epidemics, assimilation, forced removals, residential schools, racism, and oppression. I will honor your resilience and fortitude to the best of my ability and pass your teachings to our descendants.
 
 
 
 
 In the beginning of time, we lived as spirits. We wandered the earth, living in every rock, lichen tendril, wolf, caribou, whale, and beast. We soared in the heavens, winds, seasons, stars, and aurora. We spoke to the Creator about our love for earth.
 Because of our love for earth, Creator granted us life. Creator granted eyes to see beauty, hands to guard, feet to walk, and a heart to love. 
 Man and woman opened their eyes. We looked at our hands. We are no longer just spirits, we said. We’re Inupiaq. We’re real human beings.
 
 1 | Epidemic
 
 — Spring, 1893 —
 My sister Qiviu started dying a week ago.
 “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe,” she says.
 She vomits. Blisters grow over her entire body. On the third day, the blisters swell up with a thin, watery blood. I clean the watery blood through the day and through the night. She began smelling of old feces or rotting offal, I don’t know.
 In the morning, I woke to her body convulsing, her mouth foaming, and her hands gnarled and rigid. I inspect her body. Qiviu’s body is worse than before.
 “What happened?” She asks.
 “A bad dream is all,” I say.
 “Is it bad?”
 “No, no. You’re getting better. Your legs are almost healed now,”
 “My legs are itchy,”
 “I’ll make more ointment,”
 I make a salve with rosehips, black spruce sap, and coltsfoot. Rosehips are to calm the skin lesions, sap for the inflammation, and coltsfoot to ease her pain. Last spring, I collected the rosehips and sap in a grove, between two murky rivers. I seep all the ingredients, adding seal oil, waiting until it’s grey, heavy, green, and floral. I rub the salve over her body. She finally sleeps.
 On the seventh day, her lips became white. I light the seal oil lamp, sit on the floor, and lay out my sewing. Our house is dark, but I see her rotting, white lips moving in the dark.
 “Kayaliruk?”