Chapter 6 - Living with the Sámi people

Back at the pond by step sixty six in the suburban back garden, Gammelnok tries to recall the many years he spent with the Sámi or Lapps and their reindeers.

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The Sámi are very generous and friendly people I recall, said Gammelnok.

They are nomadic people, and in the summer months we lived in our Tipi like homes, known as Katas, which we could easily take down and reconstruct in a different place as we moved across the top of the world with our animals. 

Sámis can lay claim to one of the oldest folk music forms in Europe – the ‘Yoik’. These unique songs typically tribute or "call" a mountain, a wild animal or person. It's also used to express emotion, be it sadness or joy. When a Sámi person meets a friend, he or she may greet them by singing a yoik devoted to that person, or, in other words, yoik them.

I never learned to sing like that, but eventually got used to the sounds made deep in the throat.

We had a lot of fun, with reindeer racing, singing yoiks around the cooking fire, chasing the girls, although I never caught one due to my short legs not being fast enough.

I specifically remember when we went to the Riddu Riđđu Festivàla​ held on the edge of a fjord in northwestern Sami land. Everyone was dressed in their most colourful clothes, predominantly red and blue but with some green and yellow mixed in.

But enough of this, I can see I am boring you all, said Gammelnok as one after the other, the animals dropped off to sleep or disappeared into the night.

So how and why did I leave these people who had taken me in as one of their own, albeit a smaller version? Well let me tell you it is no fun growing old slower than everyone else. The people that took me in had long died as had many friends I had made through our migratory travels across the top of the world. Rudolf of course had died long ago, but his family lived on and I was soon to encounter his great, great great grandson.

Also, lets say I got bored too and fed up with the biting midges that swarmed in their thousands. 'Jävla knotter' is all I can say. So one night while we were setting up camp in northern Lapland, I happened to stray away from the camp and came across the entrance to what looked like a large cave.

It was the middle of summer and the Midnight Sun season up in northern Lapland, so I could see the entrance quite clearly.

Careful not to make any noise, I sneaked through the entrance and heard singing and laughter from further back.

Suddenly all went black as some form of sack or cloth was thrown over my head and I was bundled onto a trolley and moved deep into the cave.