Lights in the northern landscape: Alaska's tiny Bethel hosts a wondrous indigenous dance festival.

NEAR-BLIZZARD CONDITIONS ACROSS THE FROZEN TUNDRA OF WESTERN ALASKA NEARLY SHUT DOWN THE YUP'IK ESKIMO DANCE FESTIVAL, CAMAI, APRIL 6 THROUGH 8, 2001. THE DAY BEFORE, WIND GUSTS OF FIFTY MILES PER HOUR AND HEAVY, WET SNOW DELAYED FLIGHTS into Bethel, site of the annual festival. The town lies 400 air miles west of Anchorage and is accessible only by air, boat, or snow machine. Besides its highly changeable weather, Bethel is well known for having one of the largest concentrations of traditional people still practicing a subsistence lifestyle. Close to 500 dancers, drummers, and singers ranging in age from 2 to 92 perform at this remote regional center with its 5,000-plus residents. In addition to dancing, the festival also features storytelling, a fashion show, Native arts and crafts, a quilt show, and a potlatch that feeds hundreds of people with traditional fare: baked venison, caribou, roast moose, musk ox, beaver, rabbit soup, fish stews, ptarmigan, berries, aqutaq (Eskimo ice cream), pilot bread, and ayuq (Labrador tea), made from a commonly found bush. In the spirit of sharing, families in Bethel open both their homes and food caches for feasting during Camai. Even in this year's weather conditions, attendance was off only slightly. Almost 4,000 people attended three days of events in which dancing continued past midnight.

Watching the dancers perform at Camai, it is easy to think that Yup'ik Eskimo dancing has always enjoyed such practice and popularity. In reality, the survival of dance throughout western Alaska is a story of cultural resistance and resilience despite attempts by certain missionaries to suppress it since the late nineteenth century.

Dance is part of a broader cultural reawakening. Western Alaska has experienced a dramatic cultural renaissance in many forms, according to anthropologist Ann Fienup-Riordan, including oral history projects, multivillage dance festivals, bilingual school curricula, and political action. Elders--older Alaska Natives who are respected for their character and knowledge of traditional ways--talk about tradition as an avenue to maintaining cultural identity, especially given the problems associated with rapid culture change.

Camai commemorates and honors "living treasures," those who were responsible for the revival of dance and song in the villages (this year, Tununak Elders Mike and Susie Angaiak) as well as Elders who have passed on. For example, this year was dedicated to the late Nicholai Berlin and Alexie Paul of Nunapitchuk, who revived dance after a fifty-year hiatus in their village. In Bethel, the Charles family, among others, was instrumental in reviving dance.

As Yup'ik language specialist Marie Meade says, "In the past it was a big mistake to stop the dances--a lot of things died in this process. Restarting the dances is only one thing.... By learning the dances, you young people will have weight, so that nobody can brush you off the top of this earth. You will be the exciting ones because you have something of your own--your culture."

The first Camai was a small gathering of regional dance groups, organized in 1989 by Bethel resident Teresa John, following a successful dance festival held in the village of St. Mary's in 1982. In 1990, the Bethel Yugtarvik Museum of Yup'ik history and culture joined with the Bethel Council on the Arts (BCA) to create the annual, three-day-long Camai Dance Festival. More than 150 dancers and drummers, mainly from the Yukon-Kuskokwim delta but also from throughout Alaska, participated that first year.

BCA board member Linda Curda became festival coordinator. Over time, there has been more Alaska Native community involvement in selecting the theme, dedication, logo, living treasures nominees, and dance groups to be invited. Curda likens herself to a conductor, bringing together all the bits and pieces into a glorious and cohesive whole: "Camai is about the collective community.... People open their homes, their hearts, their steam baths, their meals. The whole town becomes a village.... We do that by bringing the best of both worlds together." Curda also thinks about the festival's long-term survival and is always on the lookout for someone to shadow her, to assist in landing grants, and eventually, to take over.

Camai's budget is about $80,000--the $7 admission has not been raised for nearly ten years--with one-half to two-thirds of the cost going for travel for the performing groups from all over Alaska and beyond. Each year Camai hosts eight Bethel groups, eight regional, two national, and two international groups. All are treated equally, dancing in the afternoon as well as in the prime evening spots. Devising a schedule that allows for equal exposure, regardless of the distance traveled and effort exerted by the individual groups, is a challenge. The Bethel Traditional Dancers opens the program each year, following a Yup'ik tradition that the host group be the first to welcome visitors. Other local groups that performed this year include Upallret and Ayaprun Elitnaurvik. Regional dancers came from dozens of other villages: Chefornak, Marshall, Napakiak, Nunapitchuk, and Scammon Bay, among others. Featured groups were Anchorage's Kicaput Singers and Dancers, the King Island Singers and Dancers, the Tikigaq Traditional Dancers from Point Hope, and the Apache White Mountain Spirit Crowndancers from Arizona. All received equal billing.

Past themes for Camai have included Kassiyuq ("An Old-Time Celebration") and Mengyaram Anaanga ("The Song Begins With You"). For Camai 2001 it was Piliyat ("Gathering of the Dancers").

Dance groups practice for months. Practice sessions offer contemporary socializing. Amira Martz, a Bethel teenager, dances with her family and friends in Upallret. This is her second year with the group. She says, "Young people are interested in this because it's fun and you get to travel to places, it's a way to learn about the culture, and people enjoy watching it."

But practice sessions are also part of how novice dancers learn traditional ways. Elders share the songs and dances that they know and guide the younger dancers. The instruction carries with it counseling on traditional morals and on how one should act.

DANCERS--OR THEIR FAMILIES OR FRIENDS--PREPARE elaborate dance regalia. "Early on, groups used to just come and dance," says Curda. "These days, they prepare. People wear regalia rather than street clothes." Dance regalia includes fancy fur or cotton qasperet (a parka-style pullover), cotton-print dress, or solid-color shirt with pants; piluquut (skin boots with leather soles); women's fans made of coiled dried grass or sealskin discs with a fringe of white caribou or reindeer hair; men's fans made of bent wood hoops into which feathers have been stuck; gloves to show respect for the spirits; headdresses trimmed with beads and the fur of beaver, wolf, wolverine, or otter.

"There also is a return of dance sticks," Curda adds, "whiplike sticks with feathers at the end that imitate flying birds. And masks, which may be the theme of Camai next year, also are surfacing."

A week before the festival, the Upallret Dancers practiced in Bethel. The group's name means "those who moved from one place to another," underlining the importance of a subsistence lifestyle to cultural survival.

In rehearsal, the group's leader, Myron Naneng, calls out in Yup'ik and strikes the rim of the drum. Fourteen dancers in two lines gesture and move in place. As the beat gets louder and the tempo faster, the dancers respond.

Anna Gaudot, a student visiting from France, practices with the group. "For me, dancing is prayer," says Gaudot, who was classically trained in Paris. "When I dance with Upallret, I feel like all I read in a book about old-time dancing is coming alive, the way they used to dance. When I know enough of the gestures, I forget I'm white, I just dance."

Traditional dance originally was performed in the confined space of the qasgiq (the ceremonial house in the village center), and thus often was done with the feet steady in place and movement mostly above the waist. These days dance is a major theatrical event, with stage lighting and a full technical crew. The Camai audience response to the group on opening night left no doubt that people enjoyed it.

The Camai stage in the school gym was backed with six large panels decorated with masks and sculptures. The master of ceremonies for opening night was Peter Atchak, who also dances with Upallret. Bleachers lined the walls and chairs were set directly in front of the stage for Elders. Camai crowds are unfailingly ardent. Elders sit and watch for hours. Children squirm in their seats and dance in front of the main stage on foam pads.

The look of each dance group and each dance is different, but each begins with the drummers tapping on their drum rims and singing. The drums are shaped like large magnifying glasses covered with nylon. In the past, drums were covered with walrus stomach or other membranes stretched tightly across the rims and secured with twine. The drums are constantly wetted to keep the fabric stretched. The tempo quickens and the song begins. Dancers stand in parallel position in front of the rear line of drummers. Men may begin a dance cross-legged on the floor (tailor style), maybe rising into a low kneel while the dance repeats itself. Good dancers perform energetically without losing their precision.

The chorus of the song shows the individuality of each dancer. Humorous choruses are popular, leading to audience shouts of "Pamyua!" ("Encore!") The dance typically consists of changes in level of the torso with repetitive arm and hand gestures, mainly in place, and head and shoulder isolations. It is performed to a regular drum rhythm that eventually increases in tempo. Gestures are done on each side, or twice on one side. Such symmetry symbolizes good health and spiritual strength.

One popular performer at the festival, who was acknowledged last year as a "living treasure," was Bethel's Joe Chief Jr. The dance he performed with Upallret was particularly poignant, not only for its articulation and grace--as in his loon dance--but for the challenges he personally embraces as he battles leukemia.

"I want to keep the story going in the traditional Yup'ik way," he says, "having learned it from my parents and uncles. The stories of ice fishing, whale hunting, bird and seal hunting, all the animals in the tundra and the ocean--fox, ptarmigan, snow owl, rabbits, squirrels, eagles--bringing people together, keeping them busy and happy."

The White Mountain Apache dancers followed, offering a contrast to the Yup'ik moves with their dramatic postures. The colorful group, with leather skirts and their bare chests painted white, elaborate headdresses, and clanking bells, performed the "Morningstar Song" as a series of circles. Also on the program that night were the Marshall Dancers from the Lower Yukon, dressed in sumptuous headdresses that were trimmed with wolf and beaver fur.

The audience was particularly appreciative of the seventeen Tikigaq Traditional Dancers from the remote Inupiaq village of Point Hope, at the westernmost extension of the northwest Alaskan Arctic coast. Point Hope is one of the oldest continuously occupied sites in Alaska; its songs number more than 300.

The Point Hope dancers performed short solo and duet pieces, dressed in white (for snow) and black (for the bowhead whale, which forms the base of their economy). Dances include "Missionaries Come to Point Hope," with two men wearing suede and fur gloves, making seal sounds and stomping their feet in a wide-open position, and a boxing dance in which two men simulate exchanging blows. Members of the audience joined the dancers onstage at their invitation.

Ernie Frankson, the group's leader, explains the importance of dance to his culture: "In our village of 1,000 people, all can dance. The children grow up dancing. It is like talking, it's part of our rituals. Some songs are so special, you have to change the words so no one is affected by them. Sometimes the audience can feel their bodies being lifted and healed; the songs are that powerful."

The King Island Singers and Dancers, who use their home island only seasonally, offered some of the best visual displays of the festival. The Inupiaq performers, ranging in age from 4 to 74, dance with masks, with the men wearing the traditional masks of the walrus and raven.

ALTHOUGH SOME OF THE CEREMONIAL ASPECTS OF YUP'IK and Inupiaq (the Eskimo of northwestern Alaska and northern Canada) dance are no longer present, the reasons for dancing remain much the same as 150 years ago: to share family history, give life lessons, convey valuable role models, and celebrate traditional lives through storytelling in song and dance. The dance also promotes self-esteem and community identity. As one Elder notes, "Dance is a way of allowing people to get together several times a week, to ground them and give them self-worth, provide focus, and instill discipline." As John Active from Bethel says, "I dance, for it lifts my spirits. I reach out and touch the hands of my ancestors and know that I've come home."

The dance actually is a form of music visualization, providing the pictures for the songs. The gestures also represent a vocabulary of movement and provide a way of keeping time, or holding the "spiritual space," as one might finger a strand of beads during prayer. As true folk dance, it is not restricted to professional or specialist dancers. Besides cultural identity, the dance also builds physical strength. The changes in level are a form of nonimpact aerobics that, traditionally, helped winter-bound villagers maintain strength and stamina.

THE DANCE SEEN AT FESTIVALS like Camai is reminiscent but not the equivalent of the traditional recreational and ceremonial dance performed before contact with whites. Children today can learn the dance in school from workshops with Elders. The dance at Camai is probably as close to authentic as a non-Native spectator will find. It continues to nurture community, help relieve the monotony of winter, and, as conveyed in the word camai, welcome visitors.

But with authenticity comes some license for innovation. Proof can be found with the immensely popular contemporary group Pamyua. This group combines Yup'ik and Inupiaq culture with African traditions, reflecting the mixed heritage of two of its founding members, brothers Stephen and Phillip Blanchett. Other members are Karina Moeller--Phillip Blanchett's wife, an Inuk artist who hails from Greenland--and Ossie Kairaiuak, a Yup'ik artist from Chefornak. The group played to a full house on the Saturday night of the festival, singing a cappella doo-wop harmonies with Yup'ik lyrics. The appeal of the group is universal, as witnessed by the wildly enthusiastic teens and smiling Elders in the audience.

"Yup'ik dance sends out good, strong energy to the audience, and that's what we do," says Phillip Blanchett. "Yup'ik dancing is a real grounding type of dance. It gives you a connection with the land and where the traditions have come from. Elders love what we're doing because it has such a good influence on the community; they can feel our sincerity and how we honor the tradition."

Adds Kairaiuak, "There has to be room here for different interpretations of music in our culture. The Elders are happy with this, for we [contemporary] groups carry the culture. We carry the young with us, and that is a traditional Yup'ik value."

The Blanchetts and Kairaiuak also perform with Kicaput, another popular dance group. One Kicaput dancer, Louise Leonard from Chevak, agrees with the younger dancers, noting that "Yup'ik dance evokes a feeling of familiarity, of home. It used to be a part of a prayer, when you'd petition the animals to be available to you. It serves different purposes now. Of course, there is some innovation."

At best, Yup'ik and Inupiaq Eskimo dance is but a glimpse of the art form and cultural language. Leonard explains: "Some of the people at Camai may feel like this is a revival but, to me, it has always been with me, for I was born with dance fans in my hands. It is not just an isolated part of our lives. Rather, it shows how you are connected to everything and everybody else. It is not just a dance but our way of living, our rules and regulations--not only in our past but in our spirit, now."

Selected resources:

Always Getting Ready, Upterrlainarluta: Yup'ik Eskimo Subsistence in Southwest Alaska by James H. Barker. Seattle: University of Washington Press. 1993. 143 pages, paper, photographs. ISBN: 0-2959-7235-1.

Agayuliyararput: Kegginaqut, Kangiit-Ilu-Our Way of Making Prayer: Yup'ik Masks and the Stories They Tell. Ann Fienup-Riordan, Ed. Transcribed and translated by Marie Meade. Anchorage: Anchorage Museum of History and Art/Seattle: University of Washington Press. 1996. 236 pages, paper. ISBN: 0-2959-7509-1.

Boundaries and Passages: Rule and Ritual in Yup'ik Eskimo Oral Tradition (The Civilization of the American Indian Series, Vol. 212) by Ann Fienup-Riordan. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 1990. Paper. ISBN: 0-8061-2646-9.

Contact information for Alaska Native dance:

Camai 2002, Bethel: For dates, check the Bethel Council on the Arts Web site, www.bethelarts.com/camai.html.

Alaska Native Heritage Center, Anchorage: For winter and summer schedules, call 907/330-8000 or check www.alaskanative.net.

Anchorage Museum of History and Art: For Alaska Native dance summer series schedule, call 907/343-4326 or check www.anchoragemuseum.org.

Gigi Berardi, a Dance Magazine contributor and columnist for The Olympian, has written on culture in Alaska since the early 1990s.