to explain that once the Nets’aii Gwich’in were introduced to Christianity, they embraced it fully, reading from the Bible and holding prayer services, both on a daily basis. He emphasizes too that those who prayed hard worked hard and that prayer, work, and contemplation all were facets of early life in the new village settlement. He writes:
And when people travel and they make sure they are going to have service in the evening after all the hunting is done during the daytime and the people coming home from long hiking with snowshoes break trail all day looking for animals. After everybody come home, and they know for sure they going to have serve that night. Evening service. Sounds like there is a lot of people, a whole camp, I don’t know what they’ve been using for bibles maybe the small one … they carry around … everybody goes, once everybody ready for the service, then they all put on their snowshoes and they all run or walk to that camp and the evening service …
And I think that during that time in the cold winter when they traveled without food that they never stop believing in God, that they still follow, and Jesus and all they can, and all they depend on is in our heavenly father … And this is the way that they survive and many, many years they having hard time but they never did leave this country …
And the way I look at [the early village leaders] is that they never stop working even when they are eighty years old. They work hard for a living and I remember they get up early in the morning all of them early in the morning and they cook for themselves three times a day and they don’t stay up very late either in the camp, they all go to sleep and they get up early in the morning, around five. And they do something in the morning. So my thought about later on is that they are very strong and healthy and trained people. So what they teach us is the true life. So many of them said if you take the word which is good for your life and learn more about bibles, what bible says is true if you live by it you’re going to have long life. This is one of the good teachings for everyone. So this is the way our Episcopal Church came into this country many years ago in 1847 and some later in the whole Yukon flat people are very strong Christian people. So that Church is still there and we should really think about our Great grandfathers and grandmothers who used to live in this community why did they have a good life. (Gilbert 1996)
Gilbert’s thoughts, as well as Johnny Frank’s, are instructive. As elders, their observations provide much to the younger generations who may know little about their own history and heritage. In addition, much of our knowledge of precontact Nets’aii Gwich’in spirituality also comes from external sources. By combining the observations of the outsider with those of communal memory, a broader picture of spiritual development may begin to take shape.
For instance, Western sources generally accept that Nets’aii Gwich’in spirituality was similar to other Alaska Native traditions; as an example, Nets’aii Gwich’in tradition traced creation to supernatural spirits in the region. As hunters and gatherers, a connection with the land was understandably strong. The Nets’aii Gwich’in held that there was little if any distinction between the human and animal worlds. This was most especially true when it came to the caribou, an animal believed to share a physical connection with the human race in a literal sense (Dinero 2003a: 9).
Gwich’in spirituality prior to contact also included belief in a variety of supernatural beings. Most prominent among them was the bushman, or the “Na’in” (Hadleigh-West 1963: 37; McKennan 1965: 77; Osgood 1936: 160; Slobodin 1981: 527). Outsiders or others encountered in the bush who were not recognized by community members were at times thought to be such creatures. White authors have written about such topics with romantic fascination, suggesting, for example, that bushmen were humans who at one point were forced by starvation to resort to cannibalism. As a result, they left the community and lived in the bush in caves or underground. In effect, these men were pushed to the periphery of the community through blood feuds or other communal strife, forced to live outside of the village in holes or other unenviable places (Mason 1924: 60).
As Richard Slobodin suggests, bushmen may be viewed as isolated men who became ostracized by the broader community for failing to offer mutual support in times of need. Though stronger than humans, due to their supernatural condition, these beings could be “overmatched” and overpowered under the right circumstances, but their origins stemmed from their dysfunctional or inadequate role in the community:
If [a] family happened to find game and was unable to bring food to the main party in time, so that the others died, tradition holds that the line family of survivors avoided other people thenceforth. As an informant put it, “They were too sad to be with other people. And besides, they were afraid of the people.” The survivors, it is said, would build a pit lodge with a carefully camouflaged dome roof, avoiding the use of fire whenever other humans were in the vicinity. Such people became bush men. Other bush men were individuals, sole survivors of single or paired families whose other members had fallen victims to misfortune. (Slobodin 1960: 127)
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
