what is the literature of the Russian Far North?
There is no doubt that the Russian Far North is a fascinating region. It contributes a lot to the external (Western) image of Russia, even though those lands are merely colonial possessions, certainly not the cradle of Russian identity. Their autochthonous inhabitans are such peoples as the Nenets (who used to be called Samoyeds, a denomination that ceased to be accepted for its depreciative resonance). Historically speaking, the Nenets never had any written literature. Nonetheless, their oral expression, essentially their songs as well as rich mythology explaining the origin of the world, natural phenomena, and the people themselves, served to transmit the human experience across generations. Animals, plants, and the landscape play significant roles in their stories, symbolizing the interconnectedness between the Nenets people and their environment. Their nomadic lifestyle influences their literature, as stories often revolve around the challenges and triumphs of life on the tundra. Themes of migration, herding reindeer, and interactions with the harsh Arctic environment are common in their narratives. Just as real travels, there are also those other, shamanic, spiritual journeys, and encounters with supernatural beings. Nenets oral poetry, with rhythmic and melodic elements that enhance the storytelling experience, is sometimes accompanied by traditional musical instruments.
On various occasions, the Russian explorers felt tempted to document those legacies. Several Russian ethnographers have written about the Nenets people, documenting their culture and lifestyle. Ivan Yakovlevich Vagner (1842–1903) mentioned them in his work "Geographical and Ethnographical Atlas of European Russia". The Russian linguist Vladimir Jochelson (1855–1937), together with his son Waldemar (1880–1937) conducted fieldwork among various indigenous peoples of Siberia, including the Nenets. They also appear in the works of other Russian ethnographers, often those associated primarily with the study of other peoples, like Nikolai N. Miklukho-Maklai (1846–1888) and Lev Shternberg (1861–1927). In recent times, efforts have been made to preserve Nenets' oral literature through modern media, such as recordings, videos, and written transcriptions. Just like in other places in Russia and the world, challenges due to factors such as globalization, climate change, and the erosion of traditional lifestyles are a constant menace. Yet the changing cultural patterns and technologies work also in favor of the traditional legacies, and Nenets culture finds a place among new global communities and overlapping identities, such as that resumed under the catchword of "Arctic civilization".
On various occasions, the Russian explorers felt tempted to document those legacies. Several Russian ethnographers have written about the Nenets people, documenting their culture and lifestyle. Ivan Yakovlevich Vagner (1842–1903) mentioned them in his work "Geographical and Ethnographical Atlas of European Russia". The Russian linguist Vladimir Jochelson (1855–1937), together with his son Waldemar (1880–1937) conducted fieldwork among various indigenous peoples of Siberia, including the Nenets. They also appear in the works of other Russian ethnographers, often those associated primarily with the study of other peoples, like Nikolai N. Miklukho-Maklai (1846–1888) and Lev Shternberg (1861–1927). In recent times, efforts have been made to preserve Nenets' oral literature through modern media, such as recordings, videos, and written transcriptions. Just like in other places in Russia and the world, challenges due to factors such as globalization, climate change, and the erosion of traditional lifestyles are a constant menace. Yet the changing cultural patterns and technologies work also in favor of the traditional legacies, and Nenets culture finds a place among new global communities and overlapping identities, such as that resumed under the catchword of "Arctic civilization".
Love, moss and the reindeer
The expression of ethnic groups, the so-called "root nations" (korienneye narody) in the dominant Russian nomenclature, is the object of sensitive debate. Their marginalization and subaltern status in the empire (under the tsars, the Soviets, and post-Soviet times) can hardly be ignored. On the other hand, it is also hard to deny the role played by official Russian institutions and channels of communication in voicing their expression and making it visible globally. Such is the case of the Moscow-sponsored cinematography that made possible the existence of a singularly beautiful and nonobvious movie such as Vladimir Tumayev's The White Moss (Belyy yagel, 2014). Based on the fusion of two literary texts, it presents the life of Nenets reindeer herders and their dilemmas. Just like other nomadic groups in different parts of Russia, they are forced to send away those children who are simply too many for the resources of their land and their way of life. In the movie's opening scene, they are unceremoniously caught and put, much against their will, into a helicopter that will take them away from home, to a boarding school in the city. Soon they will forget their native tongue and learn to think in Russian. Their people back at home have to climb an elevated hunting stand which is the only spot where the mobile phone signal can be caught. They call Aniko to tell her, in Russian, that her mother has been eaten by wolves.
The Nenets inhabit the tundra. Despite the unforgiving frost, they live in tents, made of thick layers of reindeer skins. Their women wear beautiful white furs decorated with strips of bright colours and long, thin braids decorated with tinkling chains. As extravagant finery, they decorate their heads with white, pearly beads. The men themselves are tough, yet good and sensible, even if they drink a lot of low quality vodka that the Russian middleman keeps especially for them and exchanges one to one against rich furs of blue foxes. They ride fast snowmobiles while women ride sleges drawn by reindeer.
There is a young man who did not forget Aniko, who loves her, even if his mother has brought a young wife for him and installed her in the tent. Even if he knows that Aniko won't return. But against all probability, she does, acompanied by her greedy brother who wants to claim his share in the family's reindeer stock. The animals are promptly killed and their frozen carcasses pile on the lorry belonging to a Russian middleman living nearby. What remains is the spirit of the dead mother, and the bear's tusks once worn together by Aniko and her lover. She had forgotten about such nonsense a long time ago.
Here is the main problem of the movie: the duality of lifestyles, the city and the wilderness. Aniko exchanges her elegant high heel shoes against more appropriate gear to face the snow and the frost, but she is unable to stomack the raw meat of the animal sacrificed in her honour. She understands little of the language, and still less of the shamanistic rituals, yet she accepts the strange doll personifying native divinity, offered by her father. Her greedy brother is much less interested in anything he cannot transform into ready money. The family encounter is thus very brief. Both the city and the wilderness have their pressing calls. The white moss is no more, and the nomads must follow their reindeer toward new pastures. Left behind, the unwanted wife is attacked by a wolf. Yet the young man, who failed to get on the helicopter to follow Aniko into her world, comes back just in time to save her. The act that follows permits the viewer to expect that she will no longer huddle a pup in her fur coat. She will get pregnant and give birth to a baby. As simple as this.
Kraków, 3.02.2024.
The Nenets inhabit the tundra. Despite the unforgiving frost, they live in tents, made of thick layers of reindeer skins. Their women wear beautiful white furs decorated with strips of bright colours and long, thin braids decorated with tinkling chains. As extravagant finery, they decorate their heads with white, pearly beads. The men themselves are tough, yet good and sensible, even if they drink a lot of low quality vodka that the Russian middleman keeps especially for them and exchanges one to one against rich furs of blue foxes. They ride fast snowmobiles while women ride sleges drawn by reindeer.
There is a young man who did not forget Aniko, who loves her, even if his mother has brought a young wife for him and installed her in the tent. Even if he knows that Aniko won't return. But against all probability, she does, acompanied by her greedy brother who wants to claim his share in the family's reindeer stock. The animals are promptly killed and their frozen carcasses pile on the lorry belonging to a Russian middleman living nearby. What remains is the spirit of the dead mother, and the bear's tusks once worn together by Aniko and her lover. She had forgotten about such nonsense a long time ago.
Here is the main problem of the movie: the duality of lifestyles, the city and the wilderness. Aniko exchanges her elegant high heel shoes against more appropriate gear to face the snow and the frost, but she is unable to stomack the raw meat of the animal sacrificed in her honour. She understands little of the language, and still less of the shamanistic rituals, yet she accepts the strange doll personifying native divinity, offered by her father. Her greedy brother is much less interested in anything he cannot transform into ready money. The family encounter is thus very brief. Both the city and the wilderness have their pressing calls. The white moss is no more, and the nomads must follow their reindeer toward new pastures. Left behind, the unwanted wife is attacked by a wolf. Yet the young man, who failed to get on the helicopter to follow Aniko into her world, comes back just in time to save her. The act that follows permits the viewer to expect that she will no longer huddle a pup in her fur coat. She will get pregnant and give birth to a baby. As simple as this.
Kraków, 3.02.2024.
