Yotkhee. Andre Martin
her head and gave Yotkhee a kind, sweet smile.
By next morning everyone was ready to start on their long journey.
«Let some of our strongest men lead the way,» said the old shaman. «They must be ready to protect and defend the women and children.»
He was standing in the middle of a large circle: all the families of the camp had gathered around him to hear his last words to them. The people’s faces were clouded with anxiety, sadness, and even fear of what lay ahead, but everyone was hanging on to the wise old man’s every word.
«Then, after the men, our new little vydu’tana will follow. Please remember that he is your wise healer now, and he will be the one to lead you to your new land.»
Everyone nodded in approval, and all the children beamed: they loved Yotkhee because he always had time for them, playing their games and telling them all sorts of fascinating stories which he either had heard from grown-ups or made up on the spot. He often took them to the river and taught them to swim in the clear blue water, all radiant in the rays of the Spirit of Light.
Edeine was there too, with her puppy as usual. She was the middle daughter of the tribe’s chief, and her parents had long ago agreed with Yotkhee’s parents that their children were betrothed22 and would get married when they came of age.
«Women and children will walk in the middle,» continued the shaman. «They will be followed by strong men who will defend and protect them from any danger.»
Then the shaman turned to the young vydu’tana:
«And remember, Yotkhee: you must only go in the direction which your own shadow or the shadows of trees will show you at noon, when the Spirit of Light is right in between Ilibembertya23 and Nga24 and right behind your back.»
It didn’t take long to put everyone where they belonged, according to what the old shaman had said. It was time to say the final farewell. Everyone fell silent. Only birds kept chirping in the trees, and green leaves rustled in the soft morning wind.
«Farewell, our dear, beloved homeland! We will always remember you. Thank you for everything. One day we will see you again!»
The young shaman spoke these words, and they were immediately echoed by the others in low, broken voices:
«Farewell, our dear homeland! Farewell! Goodbye!…»
The people slowly turned and, still in silence, started walking towards the land of Ngherm.25 They could not know how much hardship and how many trials would meet them on the way.
When they made it through the forest that fringed their camp and walked into an open green valley, Yotkhee turned around. Their old wise teacher was standing on the top of the sacred hill, tall and strong. His white clothes were clearly visible against the deep green of the woods. He was standing next to a massive tree, gazing after his people who were leaving for an unknown land. Yotkhee waved his outstretched arms in farewell, and everyone else stopped, turned around, and waved back. The old shaman raised his right hand high and smiled in response. He was finally at peace: he felt certain now that his people would be safe, that they would not perish in the Great Water, and that someday they would all see each other again.
Edeine was walking next to her mother and sisters, holding her puppy tight. The little dog was one of the litter that their faithful grey Bura had brought them about thirty moons ago. Bura was right here, too, running along with everyone else; every now and again she skipped ahead and looked up at Edeine to make sure her little one was safe and sound.
The people kept marching in dejected silence, looking down at their feet and thinking about the land they were leaving behind, their good old life, and their good old shaman who was now all alone.
Suddenly Edeine lifted her eyes from the path and looked at the trees and sky with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She was a great storyteller and easily made up all sorts of songs and tales. She raised her puppy above her head and started singing merrily, dancing and twirling as her sweet little voice carried the cheerful tune.
Through the woods on we go,
To the land that we don’t know.
Sunshine’s bright and merry ray,
Guide us, guide us on our way!
Down the path we march along,
With a happy marching song.
Chirping birds, rustling grass,
Water’s babbling song,
Valley road, mountain pass —
Our journey’s long.
Keep your strength and from the start
Spark a fire inside your heart!
The people quickly caught up the lively melody, and it seemed to make the walking a little easier. The children started noticing lovely flowers by the roadside. The grownups’ faces brightened, their backs straightened, and soon they started grinning, finally remembering that they were supposed to show their young ones how to bear long and arduous journeys bravely and cheerfully.
Time wore on. The children were running about and playing games, while their parents kept a slow but steady pace, looking at the scenery around them with curious attention. Towards the evening, when the sun was nearing the horizon and seemed to almost touch the thick green treetops, the adults put the younger children on their shoulders, as they were too tired to walk on. The older children kept dashing back and forth, playing tag, and weaving their way between the grownups.
Suddenly everyone heard a loud cry from up front.
«Halt! It’s a river. Let’s make camp!»
Soon even those who were bringing up the rear found themselves on the low flat bank of a river that lay in their way. The river wasn’t very broad or very deep, but they still needed to stop and think of how to best cross it.
The elders told the adults to go and gather some wood for the fire. There were plenty of tall pines, birch trees, and aspen trees in the forest they had been walking through, so dry dead-wood would be very easy to find. The children were supposed to find stones to frame the campfires, to keep the flames from the grass.
It quickly got dark, and the place was quiet. The birds seemed to be down for the night, and even the frolicsome little wind had taken itself off to get some rest up in his mountain abode, so not a single leaf was stirring.
For supper everyone had their fill of delicious mushrooms, fried over the campfire, and plenty of fresh cold water from the river. It was time to settle down and go to sleep.
«Look!» said one of the elders pointing down the river. «It flows straight towards Ngherm’s land, which is exactly where we need to go. While the weather is good and the river isn’t frozen, we could go down on rafts. Our children can’t walk as fast and long as we need to go.»
«Hear, hear!» exclaimed eager voices on all sides.
«The elder is right!» echoed others.
«This way we will get to the new land much faster!» cried yet more people.
«Then tomorrow we will start building rafts,» said the first elder, raising his hand to ask for silence. «Let’s get some rest now and start the work first thing in the morning.»
The elders decided that in the morning a few of them would walk along the river and see if there was a ford anywhere near so that they could simply wade across. The others would start making rafts for everyone.
The big campfire started dying down, and the red-hot coals cast a warm bright glow on the faces around the fire and the trees behind.
Nenets families sometimes promise their children to each other in marriage when they are still quite young. Once the betrothed come of age, they get married.
Ilibembertya (Nen.) – the spirit of light, the spirit of the East.
Nga (Nen.) – the spirit of darkness, the spirit of the West.
Ngherm (Nen.) – the spirit of cold, the spirit of the North.