Sàmi

Walki

ng w

ith R

einde

er

SÀmiWalking with Reindeer

SÀmiWalking with Reindeer

Erika LarsEn

he loves to yoik

I suppose anyone that knows him—knows that well

always yoiking

telling who that person is

what this place is like

remember

he sat with the herd and he yoiked his wife

it would be almost a year later

before

I could understand

what I saw in that picture

they had been marking calves for days by now

sleeping—working

the whole family was there

all the families where there

Ingrid told me when they where young they spent all the summer in the lavvo

close to the mountain

close to the reindeer

the lavvo is home

I read once that skin could

be white as alabaster

the snow had begun to

blanket the land

perhaps that seduced me

trying to connect

the pieces around me

trying to hear the stories

it was the first time

I had met

Sunna

it was the first time

I had seen

the reindeer

it was the September month

and they were slaughtering

I guess it might have well been a towel or something else in need of the air to dry

but would The Sun have revealed such uniqueness with the others?

she said she used it when marking calves

she said many women used it

in the older days

the September month was here and the colors had begun to blend

twist

until the white would cover

Ingrid was cutting grass

grass

insulation in the shoes

this has come to be

everyday

each house could have

two or more

it was not new to me

but an old friend

that drew me here to

begin with

but the skills here were

clearly passed down

through the centuries

Yesterday she was sewing a gahkti.

I like to watch the work

the work done by heart.

I spoke all day to a young child

we played games of make believe.

Table doilies were now pancakes—green pancakes we could eat.

When that became common they turned into hats we used for a game of hiding.

I sat in the boaris áhkku stuollu old women’s chair.

In this chair I could see through one eye—my voice was old.

I searched the room with my one eye

I could see children playing the game of hide and seek

as the sewing machine carried on.

I heard a young child crying from upstairs

I was sure that new guests had arrived

finally when I asked

no guests had come

there was no child upstairs

no crying baby.

The sound of the sewing machine continued.

Some of them say the lights could take you to the other world

Čohkka Jaskka

they would teach the children

Sit Silent

off the main street

a slightly bumpier way

going to see if he was home

to hear him yoik

maybe

It was the color I was drawn to at Uncles Ander’s home

soft

luminescent

How did it not just float away with the wind?

I am not ready to leave

it suits me

the land—a magnet

to this landscape

a person can either repel or connect

the inhabitants

living in two worlds