Winter Life 115 



and laid against the wall, and the children are sent out to the various houses 

 with portions of the meat. The husband enters, removes his heavy sealing 

 coat, carefully beats the snow from it with the "duster", and sits down beside 

 the table to help himself to the steaming food that his wife has just cooked in 

 anticipation of his return. Sometimes, though, if he is very tired, he will 

 undress first and slip into bed, then roll over on to his stomach and eat his 

 supper. 



In mid-winter the women have usually very httle to do while their husbands 

 are away sealing. It is forbidden to sew new garments during the days that 

 the sun is absent, but they may still patch old ones, and they can spend an 

 infinite amount of fme in emptjdng out their bales of clothing and clearing 

 away the snow that is always drifting inside. Such labour, however, is rather 

 useless, for the next gale will bury them up again, and in midwinter there is no 

 danger of the snow melting and damaging the skins. The most fruitful task 

 is to go and gossip in the dance-house, or in the houses of neighbours, until 

 the growing gloom brings warning that it is time to trim the lamp and put the 

 pot on for the hunter's evening meal. Woe betide the woman who is slack in 

 this respect; her husband will probably beat her, or stamp her in the snow, 

 and may even end by throwing her household goods after her and bidding her 

 begone forever from his house. 



The children have even less to do. They run about outside, throwing each 

 other in the snow, or playing hide and seek, or building miniature snow walls 

 and snow houses. One of them, perhaps, will carve out a block in the shape 

 of a rabbit and the rest will decapitate it. Every now and then a child will run 

 inside to help itself to a little food from the table, then go off again to visit some 

 other house or to resume its play outdoors. 



Neighbours drop in after the evening meal to discuss the hunting and all 

 the little events of the day. The hunter is lying in his sleeping-bag. They sit 

 down beside him and chat for an hour or so, then one by one retire, remarking 

 as they leave, " I am going out." By seven or eight o'clock the hut is empty, 

 and everyone is preparing for bed. The inmates have another little snack of 

 food, then undress and compose themselves in their sleeping bags, the wife first 

 trimming the lamp so that the flame burns brightly all along its rim, and closing 

 the door with a snow-block. The lamp grows dimmer and dimmer; often it 

 expires altogether before morning, unless some one wakes and trims it again, 

 or throws a little more blubber into the well. The dogs sleep quietly in the pass- 

 age. Sometimes one prowls about outside, and climbs on to the roof among 

 the bales of clothing. The crunching of its feet on the crystalline snow disturbs 

 the house-wife, who yells at the dog at the top of her voice, " Won't you lie 

 down? You dog, you're a confounded nuisance." Her husband rolls over 

 mingling his voice with hers, and similar cries come faintly from a neighbouring 

 hut. The crunching ceases for a moment, then recommences, and the woman, 

 with a muttered " Confound it," slips on her clothes, picks up the snow-duster, 

 removes the door and crawls out through the dark passage. Shrill yelps soon 

 proclaim that the dog has received a well-merited punishment, and everyone 

 heaves a sigh of contentment and settles down to sleep again. The wife comes 

 in, readjusts the door, dusts her clothes, and crawls into her sleeping-bag again. 

 Sometimes she brings with her an old headless harpoon, so that if the dog climbs 

 up on to the roof again she can stab it through the snow wall without rising 

 from her bed. 



With the reappearance of the sun and the dawning of longer days the mono- 

 tony of this life undergoes a" change. Hitherto dances and shamanistic perform- 

 ances, with a little wrestling and gymnastics, have been their only diversions in 

 the evenings and on days when terrific blizzards make sealing impossible. Un- 

 doubtedly these afford much enjoyment, and relieve to some extent the tedium 



23335—81 



