No subject

"It gives me and my family something tangible from our past. We've lost so
much of the culture," said Saclamana, whose parents lived on King Island.
"We were eager to have the mask back in our possession. We never had
anything that well preserved from the island."

The island, home to about 200 people a century ago, was abandoned for
various reasons.

Many of the men were drafted during World War II and didn't return.
Tuberculosis killed some people and hospitalized others. Fewer residents
returned from traditional summer camping grounds near Nome, where there were
jobs and doctors.

Everyone was gone by 1966, several years after the federal Bureau of Indian
Affairs closed the village school because of declining numbers and concerns
about a potential rockslide.

Lewis, of Port Townsend, Wash., declined to discuss her family's role in the
mask's return with The Associated Press, saying "it's not about us." But she
told The Nome Nugget that her father's uncle traveled by steamship from
Seattle to Alaska in 1898 to try his luck in the gold rush.

The uncle spent three years in Alaska, apparently not searching for gold but
instead working as a bartender, probably in Nome or Skagway. He kept notes
about his travels but never mentioned King Island, leading his family to
theorize that someone sold or gave him the mask.

The uncle gave the mask to Lewis' father in 1927. Her parents kept it until
late last year, when they asked her if she would help find its origins.

An Internet search led Lewis to Deanna Kingston, lead researcher in an
Oregon State University study of King Island and its former inhabitants.

Kingston put Lewis in touch with Saclamana in early November. Around
Thanksgiving, Lewis met a King Island representative at an Anchorage
restaurant and turned over the mask.

Saclamana consulted with tribal elders and anthropologist Matt Ganley of the
Bering Straits Native Corp. Everyone agreed the mask was the real deal.

Clues include its red-ochre face, beaked nose and black painted hair, which
was probably colored with graphite or condensed soot, Ganley said. The mask
was likely carved from driftwood.

"It's the style, the whole thing, the types of pigments used, the way the
face is presented," Ganley said. "One person told me this looks like a lot
of people from King Island."

It's unclear exactly what the mask was used for, despite the inscription
pointing to a shaman's grave. Islanders in those days were buried
aboveground, surrounded by their worldly possessions. In this case, the
artifact might have been used in dances or religious ceremonies, Ganley
said.

What's significant, he said, is that it survived and was returned freely
instead of being the subject of a legal tug-of-war as other repatriation
cases have been. The mask means far more to King Islanders than it would to
someone who would hang it on a wall as a souvenir.

"It's a home item," Ganley said. "There's a sense that the island itself is
pretty sacred to them, a focal point of their identity. They've maintained a
pretty strong identity in Nome, not an easy thing to do."

Saclamana believes the mask belongs on the island, though no decision has
been made on its final resting place.

"Some of my relatives found a similar mask at a grave on King Island and
left it there," she said. "My personal feeling is this mask should be
returned to the island. It's considered sacred."

On the Net:

http://www.kawerak.org/tribalHomePages/kingIsland/index.html

http://www.beringstraits.com