When the farm is covered with snow, and the darkest day of the year is here, I always remember a story I used to read to my children, The Seal Oil Lamp, about a blind Inuit boy. Though it is their custom to kill children born with a handicap because they will become a burden for the community, the parents beg the chief to allow them to keep this child, their firstborn. They name him, Alugua, and he grows from an infant to an adorable little boy with a remarkable capacity for kindness. One winter he finds a baby mouse, and cares for it faithfully through the long winter, until it can be released in spring.
Then, one day, the chief comes to talk to the parents and tells them that the time has come. Their son’s blindness will be a liability for the tribe. For they have long distances to travel to move to their winter homes. The boy, now seven, is too big to be carried and he is too slow to walk along with the tribe. The parents must now follow the custom of leaving him in their snow home with a little food, knowing that when they return in the spring, he will be dead. It’s the old way, it is for the survival of the community. The young boy is left with a seal oil lamp burning, a little food, and the door is closed. It’s a haunting moment and difficult to read, especially to one’s children.
Photo: Alexis Pappas
But turning the page, we learn that mysteriously, the oil lamp does not go out. And once the food is gone, a Mouse Mother comes and brings him food. Every day the mouse visits. The mouse dances with him and even teaches him an old hunting song. The boy survives his abandonment. He lives through this time of loneliness with the companionship and care of Mouse Mother.
The tribe returns, and the boy’s parents must pry open the door. With hearts breaking and tears rolling down their cheeks, they carefully remove blocks of frozen ice. Inside, miraculously, they find their son alive and well.
The community all marvel that the boy survived. They reason that Alugua must have special power and they promise to honor and care for him. As the boy grows, he asks to be taken on hunting trips. At first the men are reluctant, but the boy perseveres, and he is finally allowed to accompany them. The hunting is not good and the hunters return day after day without food. The boy decides to go out alone. He sings the haunting hunting song taught by Mouse Mother. The song brings fish who offer themselves for the well-being of his people. Alugua becomes known as a great hunter and provider. He always returns some of the flesh to the sea, an offering of appreciation and gratitude.
The story is not only a teaching about our dependence on other creatures, but a teaching on the profundity of darkness. In his deep and lonely darkness, during a time when he never knew if he would ever see his loved ones again, he found the gift that he alone could offer his community. The blind boy learned the song that would save his people.
Solstice Fire at Old Frog Pond Farm, 2010 Photo: Alexis Pappas
Today, on the Solstice, the shortest day of the year, the day of the longest darkness, the Covid pandemic has taken the lives of close to 1.7 million people in the world, and changed the lives of so many more. Is there something we can learn from this dark time? Is there a song we will learn or a poem we will share? What is our unique offering to feed our community. Can we make a commitment, born of these difficult times, to work together to bring us out of the darkness, and move us into the light? We need each other to keep the flame alive. I know I need you.
Photo: Alexis Pappas