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The Eskimo widow






In the coldest part of the Arctic Zone, ' the Eskimos have a legend they tell when the long winter nights are at their worst. The story is about a little old woman who lived in the northernmost part of Alaska3 and who lived alone. Unable to do her own hunting or fishing, she lived on what her neighbors gave her. It was a poor village. The neighbors had little to spare. So most of the time, she was as hungry as she was lonely.

One morning, she heard a noise that sounded like a child crying. When she could no longer ignore it, she went outside and found a bundle of matted fur on the ice. It was a baby polar bear whose mother had been caught and who had managed to crawl away before the hunters could kill him. The helplessness of the cub moved the old wom­an's lonely heart. Without thinking how she might care for him, she carried him in and gave him some scraps that she had been sav­ing for her next meal. He ate them eagerly, yawned, and fell asleep.

Now she was no longer alone. She cared for the cub as though he were her child. She gave him half of what little food she got. As a result, she was hungrier than ever. But she was happy. Once in a while, when the Eskimos made a great catch, everyone in the village was given part of it, and the old woman and her cub would feast for a few days. Most of the time, though, everyone went hungry.

Somehow, the old woman survived, and somehow, the cub got fat. Then he grew lean and tall. One day, after he had become the most important thing in her life, he dis­appeared. That night the old woman could not sleep. " My child! My child! " she moaned. The next morning, she cried again, but this time it was a cry of joy. Her cub had returned with a fine catch of sal­mon. He had taught himself how to fish.

As he grew up, he became a clever hunter. No longer a cub, the young bear caught not only fish but, once in a while, small seals. There was plenty now for both of them. Soon there was enough to share with the neighbors. Everyone remarked what a smart bear he was. " My child, " she repeated proudly.

But the good days did not last long. Sud­denly the weather changed. For weeks, blinding snowstorms swept over the village. Not a fish could be caught. The seals seemed to have swum away.

It was then that one of the villagers had a plan. " Why should we starve, " he said, " when we have food right here? The old woman's bear has plenty of flesh beneath that fur. He should make good eating."

The others said nothing, but they plowed through shoulder-high snowdrifts to the old woman's house. There they found the widow weeping. The bear had disappeared again. The villagers slowly walked back to their homes. There was nothing to say, nothing to do. The storms grew worse. There seemed to be no hope for the starving village.

Then one day the wind changed, and the bear came back. Everyone stared at him. No one spoke. The widow, a little bundle of bones, was too weak to call out, but she man­aged a cracked smile. The bear did not stir from where he stood. But he lifted his head again and again.

He's trying to tell us something, " said a villager. " I think he wants us to go with him, " said one of the others. " He seems to be pointing."

The bear started to walk away. The villag­ers followed him. He led them over hills of ice, skirting wide deep cracks. Finally he stopped. A hundred yards in front of him, there was a dark mass barely moving on a large piece of ice. As the villagers went closer, they saw it was a wounded but still fe­rocious animal, a huge bull seal. The seal was larger than any one of them had ever caught. Here was food to last a long, long time – plenty of meat and an endless supply of blubber, the fat that would put new life into the people of the whole village.

It was a happy group that brought back the food and the bear. Both were welcomed, especially the bear.

" He knew what we needed, " the people told each other, " and he found it for us."

" He didn't just find it, " said one of the vil­lagers. " He fought it for us. We owe every­thing to him."

" We owe everything to him, " the people repeated. " And we will never forget him."

The widow waited until the bear walked over and put his head in her hand. Then she patted the furry head. " My child, " she said softly.


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