Tatiana: Cook Inlet Alaska 1800s

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Chapter 1

The Beginning

Tatiana was an amazing child birthed into a mundane relationship that was initiated solely by convenience. Her father, Ian, was lonely. Her mother, Shavila, had been hungry and cold as well as lonely. He was Russian. She was Dena’ina Athabaskan. He managed the unfortified artel, the small trading post across the inlet from what is now Kenai, Alaska for the Lebedev-Lastochkin Company, supplied out of Okhutsk, Russia. He had been, and continued to be a faithful storekeeper, record keeper, and member of the Russian Orthodox Church. Their shared living arrangement began in the early days of the fortified St. George Redoubt at the mouth of the Kasiloff River.

In the terms of the day, a redoubt was a trading site surrounded by a protective palisade of logs embedded into the ground. An artel was a simple trading site, exposed and vulnerable. Redoubts and artels were defended, not by Russian soldiers, but by a merchant militia that accompanied all economic endeavors in Russian America.

Ian’s dislike for the manager of the St. George Redoubt, Peter Kolomin, prompted him to volunteer when the Kustatan artel was constructed across the inlet to better reach the indigenous fur trappers on the western side of the inlet. That artel was located just north of the Kustatan Peninsula. His keeping a Dena’ina woman made him the most likely candidate to function among the Dena’ina people. Ian wanted to leave, and the St. George manager, Kolomin, was more than willing to let the stubborn man go.

The Lebedev-Lastochkin Company shipped supplies to its remote outposts: flour, sugar, salt, tea, knives, axes, needles, thimbles, beads, candles, nails, blankets, a few cotton garments and similar items. Dena’inas were required to exchange outrageous quantities of furs to acquire the basic trade items for which Ian was responsible. Yet the local people did so willingly, as the imported goods, such as needles, were so far superior in material and function to local artifacts made from bone, stone, and wood.

Shavila was a skilled seamstress, yet without a hunter/provider her situation had become quite harsh when her Dena’ina life-partner vanished many years earlier. Ian and Shavila were both satisfied with having a shared roof, shared food, and mutual relief from the loneliness each had experienced before they consented to combine energies and resources.

The life-partner of Shavila’s youth had gone hunting one day and never returned. Did he drown? Was he injured? Or, had he traveled to a distant village and found a more desirable woman, one who could bear him children? Shavila did not know and had no way to pursue the answers other than to constantly eavesdrop on conversations of trappers bringing furs into the artel. Shavila tried to be good to Ian, although his narrow-minded manner and lack of imagination made him a difficult partner. Everything went his way or he erupted in childish fits. The less she said, the better were her chances of peace in the home.

They had a few attributes in common. Neither was tall. Neither was extremely intelligent. Neither was attractive. He was in his early forties, becoming almost as round as tall, covered with a considerable amount of body hair. She was slightly past mid-life, walked with a bit of a limp, and never ceased to be amazed at a person having hair on his back, legs, arms, and chest, more like a balding bear than any Dena’ina man she had ever seen. Her name, Shavila, meant rainbow, implying brilliance, yet the difficulty of her life had substantially dimmed her once youthful glow.

Since it was a relationship of mutual convenience, and since times were truly difficult, the bond they shared was constant and strong, although lacking the slightest seasoning of affection, either public or private. They were both reliable with their household duties and the tasks before them.

Their story together began in the early 1780s; the season was fall, during the time when the last supply ship was to depart from the inlet. In those days, the thriving, indigenous Dena’ina population called their surrounding country Yaghanen (Ya-ga-nen…Good Land). Captain Cook had only recently made his first of several ventures into that part of the uncharted world as the English feverishly competed against the Spanish searching for the Northwest Passage.

Shavila was carrying Ian’s child from their relationship of convenience after being barren her entire adult life. Ian did not want children with any woman in this remote, seemingly God-forsaken place. That was one of the primary reasons he had allowed Shavila under his roof. He believed that she could not have children. The conception had startled both of them. Conflict had mounted since the day she announced the end of her barrenness, yet strength rose within, empowering her to shed Ian’s rude comments and take delight in the infant forming in her innermost being. She was thrilled with the unborn child while more than slightly terrified by the potential of his fits.

As the months passed, the baby developed in a most natural way. Shavila found it increasingly difficult to do the simple chores that had been her routine of cooking, washing dishes, stoking the fire, sweeping the plank floor, and washing clothes with a scrub board. She could no longer pack water from the small creek that passed by the artel. Ian paid one of the merchant soldiers to do that much, but was so upset at her pregnancy that he refused to show further consideration for the increasing difficulty of her condition.

Shavila sang songs to the unborn. Talked to him… to her? She welcomed the new life, and frequently let the child know that a safe, loving world awaited. Until the unexpected news, Ian was thankful for his Dena’ina partner as she spoke the local language perfectly, kept his small cabin and the trading post clean, his bed warm, and attempted to explain the behavior of her people to him.

He spoke Russian to Shavila. She understood. She spoke simple Dena’ina to him. He understood. To Ian, the Dena’ina language seemed littered with obtuse ways of saying the obvious. He repeated phrases in their simplest form, but spoke so poorly his efforts provoked open smiles, and often spawned derogatory remarks behind his back. When Ian foundered in a Dena’ina conversation, Shavila intervened to save him. Yes, he had been quite satisfied with the practicality of their relationship until the accursed announcement.

He did not express himself openly, but he truly despised the Dena’ina people. He never understood the way they treated each other and their reasons for saying and doing what they did. His mission in Russian America had nothing to do with improving the lifestyle of the people served by the trading post. His intent was to save every ruble possible, return to his hometown, Aldan, in Russia, and garner respect from immediate and extended family. Being the sole trader in an unprotected artel did pay slightly more than serving the same function behind the protective palisades of St. George Redoubt.

He frequently vented his emotions on Shavila when he detected a moment of her personal weakness. Silently, he was worried that his family in Russia would discover the truth, mock him for diluting the family bloodline and tarnishing their heritage. He also worried considerably about the opinions of the Russians in the redoubt across the inlet. Certainly the soldiers took advantage of local women, occasionally by mutual consent, more often by force. Yet, few would consider keeping a woman as he did. He certainly would not marry Shavila by the church. Would the itinerant Russian Orthodox priest baptize a child born out of wedlock? Most likely not, and if not, would he see his child in the heaven promised by that church? Again, most likely not. His questions were simple, the answers elusive. He could do sums, stock shelves, keep records, gather wood, and plant a small garden. His limited thought processes would not permit him a solution to the problem he had unintentionally initiated. His thoughts churned, finding no niche in which to anchor.

Ian was not an adventurer. As a young man, it had stung him deeply when his father first named the three sons who would remain home to care for the family farm, then notified the remaining four sons they must make a living on their own for lack of tillable land. Ian was grieved at not being among those chosen to stay and care for Mama, Papa and the farm. He therefore wanted to return to Aldan a success, share his savings with his parents and show them that he too was a worthy son. It was a basic plan from a very basic individual. He longed to turn their rejection into full acceptance.

He had always wanted to marry and have children, Russian children. He wanted a wife, a Russian wife, a Russian family, to plant a garden, to raise goats, and to live a simple Russian life surrounded by a secure family, all in Russia. He had always intended to leave the Dena’ina woman when his commitment to the company was over. He had told her indirectly several times. She had been warned; he was certain she understood.

Among the Dena’ina people of those days, most arrangements of couples were pre-ordained. As inter and intra-tribal warfare was quite common, many life-partner relationships were initiated to create alliances. Quite often girls barely entering puberty were given to men over twice their age. Dena’ina parents considered such practical matters, knowing also that their personal well-being in old age was dependent upon the abilities and good will of their children and spouses. Many personal flaws were overlooked and honor given to the hunter who was most able to bring home caribou, bear, sheep, beluga whale and seal, who could craft a fish trap and set an effective deadfall to catch fur bearing animals.

Shavila’s parents and her previous partner’s parents had arranged their relationship when both were quite young. Neither of them had been emotionally fulfilled. His disappearance replaced her dull emptiness with a greater one of true solitude. When Ian had asked her to be his housekeeper, she had nothing to lose but hardship and loneliness.

Ian’s mind wandered as he walked among the trading goods, straightening tilted candles, peeking into the wooden barrels, checking quantity and quality of flour. He despised the worms that emerged from nowhere to spoil his supply and was ever vigilant against them.

In more western Russian outposts, like Kodiak and the outer Aleutian Islands, indigenous people were taken as slaves, the men to harvest furs, their life-partners as unwilling concubines. Young girls were not spared. If the men did not cooperate by producing wealth for the invaders, their families were brutally slaughtered. In the inlet venture, Ian had agreed with the Lebedev Company to see if production by willing trappers might exceed those of reluctant, enslaved ones.

In the competing St. George and St. Nikolas Redoubts across the inlet, trading was done primarily between the local Dena’ina chiefs and traders within the gates. In his Kustatan artel, Ian served whoever came to his door, exchanging freely with common people as well as the local chiefs. Many outliers who were too intimidated to approach the large forts felt safer trading with Ian in his unfortified and less threatening location.

Russian company policy completely forbade Native people from having muskets, powder or balls, as the military advantage of firearms was exclusively reserved for the resident soldiers. Most Alaska Native men were highly skilled warriors whose only disadvantage was the limited range of their bows, clubs and spears.

Interestingly, the Dena’inas of that day called Russians Tatl’aht’ana (tat-lak-tana…Under Water People.) While Dena’inas clearly understood the curvature of the earth, the high-masted Russian sailing ships appeared to emerge up and out of the water as they approached from a great distance.

In the mornings, Ian often walked on the beach after making a fire in the cast iron stove. He never considered the meaning of life, questioned the validity of Church teaching, nor the sovereignty of God. He was a simple man, blessed, at least until that time, with the inability to think in depth about controversial matters. He imagined a good life in his old age, a small farm, a warm stove surrounded by close family and good meals followed by music and laughter. With those basic thoughts he had always been content.

All his plans had been rattled, muddled, and knotted with the advent of Shavila’s pregnancy. His previous self-induced visions to which he clung so dearly had been erased, regardless of his efforts to recreate them.

***

Yet, the moment he saw the newborn child he was breathtakingly overwhelmed. She was an exquisitely formed being with distinct, perfect features, sparkling green eyes, perfect nose, tiny ears and thin feminine lips. Her red hair was the greatest surprise of all! Ian had curly black hair, now streaked with ample grey. Shavila and her people always had straight black hair, no exceptions. The infant had flaming red hair.

Ian thought extensively about this. He had heard stories of his maternal grandmother, Tatiana, who died long before he was born. Ian’s mother had often boasted that her mother appeared to be royalty, carried herself like royalty, had flaming red hair, and possessed equally refined royal features, long, slim feminine hands, the softest complexion, and was known as the most lovely among women. Ian’s child, this most gracious anomaly, was most certainly her progeny.

Oh, what an amazingly crafted gift she was! He instantly fell deeply and irrevocably in love with her. His heart, that had hardly known love in any measure throughout his entire life, was suddenly linked in an indescribable bond with this new creature. He strutted as if the conception had been his idea; the best of his plans come true. He named the child Tatiana after his grandmother. There was no discussion on that matter.

Shavila was elated with a child of any gender, any hair color, any complexion, any name. After her many seasons of barrenness and the subtle yet pervasive shame, she counted Tatiana’s fingers and toes, listened constantly for every breath, and delighted in nursing her at the slightest whimper. She understood the red hair and green eyes to be a sign the child would forever be outstandingly different.

During the time of early contact, many children died before, during, or closely after childbirth, as newly imported diseases compounded old vulnerabilities. Shavila repeatedly touched Tatiana’s forehead, sensing changes in temperature, listening for the almost imperceptible sound of her continued breathing. Shavila caressed the wispy red hair, and minded not at all changing her moss diapers at any hour, day or night. Shavila was always careful to consume more than enough water, as her mother had told her so many years ago, assuring there would be ample milk for the infant.

At birth, Shavila momentarily wondered where the child with red hair had originated, although there was absolutely no question that she had been faithful to Ian. How could such an unattractive man father such an exquisite child? How could she, such a commonplace mother, bear the same?

For a fleeting moment, Ian had thought the child might be the result of Shavila’s unfaithfulness with another man in St. George Redoubt, yet, he knew in the core of his being, the marrow of his bones, that this was his child. The bond was instantaneous and complete. Heaven had opened. The child appeared. He conveniently forgot the rude and offensive comments he had made to Shavila. It was as if the highly successful outcome was exclusively due to his intelligent contribution. The notion of apologizing never entered his mind.

From that day onward, the quality of his day was directly related, not to the furs received and the reliability of supply ships, but to the smiles of satisfaction or expressions of discomfort emanating from the little goddess who had emerged into that most drab existence. His wealth was measured no longer in rubles, but in looks of approval from that child.

As she grew, she seized the first breath from all who gazed upon her. In proper order, she crawled, babbled, toddled, talked, and then walked. The strange arrangement that resulted was that Mama spoke Dena’ina to her and Papa spoke Russian, even as they did to each other. That seemed most natural to Tatiana. When she uttered the precursors to words, the sounds of both languages blended in strange combinations, but, before long, she separated them clearly, pronouncing each one as if it were her only language, Russian to Papa, and Dena’ina to Mama. As she grew, Tatiana appeared unaware of the awe she inspired, the conversations she stirred, and the unique nature of her presence. She sensed it, but thought all children drew that amount of attention from adults, and therefore considered herself most normal.

The seasonal patterns from one year to the next were marked by salmon runs as well as beluga whale and waterfowl migrations. There were, unless fate intervened, spring and fall boats from Russia. Since this family of three did not depend totally on living off the land, they had a greater assurance of food supplies than the local Dena’ina people, although ships were sometimes late, and occasionally missing at sea. Infrequently Ian would hunt a short distance from the trading post, or the soldiers would provide meat for them, yet he most often traded store goods for local meat. The family most enjoyed meals from the relatively small beluga whales, as the unique and gentle taste would have been more than adequate for the finest Russian banquet.

Shavila picked her own berries, adamantly refusing to let Ian trade for that necessity. A Dena’ina woman’s identity and connection to the land was very closely linked to berry picking. She would not be deprived of that important element of her Dena’ina self-image.

Every year was different from the previous, yet there was a rhythm among the seasons that gave a tremendous sense of security. Years were dissimilar enough to incite interest, yet similar enough that timely preparation was always possible.

Ian kept track of days and months with a round peg-board calendar. Every morning, after making a fire in the stove, before his walk on the beach, before drinking his first cup of tea, he moved the peg forward another hole. As a reminder, all Church holidays were marked on the wooden calendar. When he communicated with St. George Redoubt across the inlet or sailing captains from Okhutsk, they compared calendars to be certain of agreement.

Although there was no resident Russian Orthodox priest at his little artel, Ian did his best to respect church holidays. The rare visiting priests were treated as if they were the Bishop, although most of them were humble servants who had a far different mission from the merchants whose sole purpose was to quickly garner a profit.

Tides in the inlet were severe. The difference between high and low tide was, at times, greater than twenty vertical feet. It seemed that all was in constant motion: the wind, the tides, furs into the store and trade goods out, ships and small sailing boats in and out of the inlet. Birds and animals migrated, all shifting to increase their individual advantage. People too stayed in motion to find food, companionship,