A Dream in Polar Fog by Yuri Rytkheu

Author:Yuri Rytkheu
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781935744474
Publisher: Archipelago Books
Published: 2006-09-01T04:30:00+00:00

17

This year’s winter was far more brutal than the last. The blizzards swept in early, as soon as the frost locked the sea in ice. Enormous mounds formed by the shore, and the men of Enmyn had to walk to their first sea hunt, since no dogsled could have passed through the monstrous conglomerations of ice.

As soon as one wind died down, another came to take its place. All of Enmyn was blanketed in snow. They barely had time to dig out the yarangas’ entryways before the next burst. At first, John would dig out his yaranga’s sole window, the one with the walrus-stomach windowpane, each time. But after a while, he let it go, and the only natural light inside the chottagin came through the smoke-hole.

In the rare days of calm, the hunters went out to check on the traps, returning with a rich haul each time. Orvo was despondent:

“If only we had more traps!”

It seemed that all the fur-bearing animals in Chukotka came to feed off the whale carcass. Oftentimes the traps held red foxes, rabbits, and wolverines. Once John brought home a wolverine. Pyl’mau was delighted, since wolverine fur is much better than white fox.

“But the merchants think differently,” she said. “Wolverine fur isn’t afraid of damp, doesn’t go stiff in the cold, and is very durable. Fox doesn’t even compare: As soon it’s wet it goes all limp, that one.”

Pyl’mau was deft at skinning the foxes, and John scraped the remaining fat off the inner side of the hides and stretched the skins over a wooden frame. They ran out of frames and he had to make some new ones. For a few days, the dried pelts would flap and flutter in the frosty air, taking on an unblemished whiteness.

This was the life of Enmyn in the winter of 1912 – 13. They lived calmly, without worry, knowing that the larders were filled with walrus meat and whale blubber. In the middle of a snowstorm, inside the pologs it was warm and light.

One day, John came across his notepad in the little room, which he barely used anymore. Smiling, he read his old entries, took up a pencil and wrote:My dear diary! I haven’t seen you in a long while, and if I hadn’t accidentally found you, I would have forgotten you completely. What can I tell you? Not much. Life goes on, man breathes, loves, feeds, savors warmth in this realm of freezing cold and burning winds. A simple warm flame, the warm air inside a dwelling, they take on a value here that is unmatched in any other place on earth. A person is drawn toward heat as toward a celebration. And so, long live good warmth and good spirit!

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