In addition to the bushmen, some authors also mention the “brush man” or Tinjih Rui (Gwich’in, the “black man”), who was said to be tall and thin with an odd appearance and held miraculous powers, including exceptional abilities of locomotion (Mason 1924: 58–59). Some suggest that this being was similar but not identical to the bushman or Na’in, although Cornelius Osgood believes that the differences between these beings was limited at best and that they are likely various aspects of the same creature (1936: 160). In any case, Mason contends that there are differences and that belief in the “wild bushmen” tended to be more common among the men, while women and children were inclined to fear the brush man (1924: 60–61).
Robert McKennan notes that belief in such supernatural beings was said to exist up until the early decades of the twentieth century (1965: 77). Slobodin notes too (1960: 127) that by the 1930s, elders continued to press forward with this belief while more “modern” sensibilities began to prevail among the younger generations. Yet, when I personally encountered someone (or something) I could not identify while hiking Dachan Lee Mountain in the summer of 2011, no one I told seemed surprised.
In short, the “person” I saw was no more than 50 to 75 meters ahead of me—male, with short straight dark hair and clearly Gwich’in in appearance. He was tall—easily 6 feet—stood ramrod straight with his arms stiffly held at his sides, and wore jeans and a black leather jacket. His feet were never visible to me, but was not difficult to spot; at that point on the mountain, I was above the tree line (the meaning of “Dachan Lee” in English), where one can see for several meters in any given direction. I called out to him several times, although I had never seen him before. No reaction, no response. The village is so small; I had been there several times over the years. How was it possible that there was someone here I had never seen before, and more to the point, how did he get up here? Villagers rarely hike the mountain; they use their ATVs. Moreover, he was alone. Why?
What happened next was even more implausible. As I got closer to him, he literally glided straight up the mountainside, as if he were on an escalator. He just seemed to coast in one smooth motion. Anyone who has climbed this mountain knows that at this point the incline is somewhat steep, covered with boulders that one must bypass with care—but not, apparently, this fellow. I followed in close pursuit. Reaching the top minutes after he did, I looked around. There is nothing on the crest of that mountain but sun-bleached caribou antlers, caribou and bear sign, old rusted cans, and charred lichen where campfires once burned. No trees. No bushes. And on that sunny July morning, no other people for miles around either.
Initially, I was gently ribbed about what I saw or may have seen when I caught up with friends later (perhaps because, as Michael Mason notes [1924: 66], discussion of such beings with outsiders requires caution in the “modern” era for fear of ridicule of one’s cultural beliefs). However, I was eventually regaled with several stories of what others had also seen during their numerous trips “up mountain” over the years. By comparison, my story was neither unique nor all that bizarre or extraordinary.
Indeed, the supernatural aspects of traditional Gwich’in spirituality cannot and should not be easily dismissed, as they provide a significant scaffolding and support structure that transcend every aspect of pre-Christian society. Shamans, for example, also played an important role in traditional Gwich’in society and culture. A shaman was said to develop his powers in his mid-teens. In time, once this power was fully developed, shamans would adopt a “companion animal” and carry various animal-related paraphernalia with them, such as the head of that animal.
Shamans served in a variety of functions. Economically, they assisted in bringing success to the hunt. Their ability to intercede between the animal and human worlds was essential in drawing the two together in order to facilitate success in acquiring food in a harsh and unforgiving environment (Osgood 1936: 158). Moses Sam, for example, told the following story in this regard (1987):
One old-timer told me a story that a long time ago people starving and don’t know where he’s gonna get food. And medicine man, he talked to him. And he make a big fire, people circle around, circle around just singing. And the medicine man just sing. And all the people follow. Circle around to the fire. The medicine man, he sing. The big pile of snow, he just go in there and he grab a caribou horn … [then] he pull it out.
That’s medicine man. Then in the early morning people just go out. Everybody go out there. When the daylight come, they see caribou. He use the bone marrow to find it. The caribou try to run away but he had the bone marrow. So he saved the people’s life.
Shamans also acted as medical professionals. They knew the land and its resources well and could use various plants and animal resources to cure sickness, help with childbirth, and aid in other similar needs. Again, the shaman served as intermediary, being most familiar with the natural world and recognizing what is foreign or abnormal. His role was to remove or eliminate that which was harmful or unnatural, using all means at his disposal (Dinero 2003a: 10).
Upon European contact and the arrival of Christianity to the region, the role of the shaman saw immediate decline, but shamanistic behaviors, values, and beliefs would persist for decades to come (Dinero 2003a: 12). The “meshing” of the traditional with the White, Western, Christian, European system of religious thought was revolutionary, with ramifications reverberating to the present day.
The History of the Church and the Role of Albert E. Tritt
The early origins of Episcopalian Christianity in the Alaska Interior follow a trajectory of White imperial intervention and conquest. The Church came to the region, via Anglican Canada, after the Hudson’s Bay Company built a trading post at Fort Yukon in 1847 (Mishler 1990: 121). However, it was not until the latter part of the nineteenth century that the Church penetrated the most distant Native communities in the territory, home to the Nets’aii Gwich’in Athabascans of the northeast region. Both White anthropologists and Church officials have documented the events that occurred during this period and their early aftermath (McDonald 1863; Nelson 1986; Slobodin 1981; Stuck 1916, 1920; Wooten 1967).
Archbishop Hudson Stuck, the first archdeacon of the Alaskan diocese, for example, writes of how this region of Alaska was allotted to the Episcopal Church as part of what amounted to a “gentlemen’s agreement” (1920: 13):
A meeting of the secretaries of the principal missionary boards was held at which an informal working agreement as to the allotment of certain regions … was reached … It was a wise, statesmanlike thing to do; it has resulted in an almost complete absence in Alaska of the unfortunate, discreditable conflicts between rival religious bodies which have not been unknown elsewhere.
The missionaries of the day were apparently willing to recognize that each church had “limited resources” and it was only “reasonable” that those who had already converted to a particular faith of Christianity were to be left alone (Mishler 1990: 122). Still, Mishler suggests, the Episcopal Church succeeded in winning over the hearts and minds of the Nets’aii Gwich’in by the mid-1860s (1990: 125) only after a lively competition had ensued with the Catholic Church, during which this “agreement” was often ignored.
The missionizing of this region of Alaska used a multipronged approach. On the one hand, missionaries such as Rev. W.W. Kirkby, who arrived in 1861, were sent directly into the field to work with the population and to teach them about Christian beliefs and values. Successful aspects of the appeal to Gwich’in sensibilities included speaking the local language and showing an appreciation for local customs and habits; additionally, Mishler suggests, some locals were “bribed” into conversion through the attractive offer of tobacco (1990: 122). But perhaps to greater effect, these same missionaries located and educated Native community members, who were to prove equally if not even more effective in transmitting Christian views to the people in a more easily understood and accepted way (Dinero 2003a: 7; Mishler 1990: 125). The millennia-old culture, beliefs, and traditions of the Nets’aii Gwich’in were all now under attack