Surveying in Siberian Snow
Our small four-wheel-drive van slogged through the monotonously white landscape, snow blowing everywhere, and then crossed Siberia’s longest river. At 3:30 that dark, cold morning, the driver stopped and told us it was the end of the road. Was this the town of Sebyan? Surely not...
Two other language surveyors and I had deplaned in Yakutsk, Siberia, and met up with a local friend who would serve as our guide. Months of research and preparation had shown us that the Even (rhymes with seven) people of eastern Siberia were not a linguistically homogenous group, or an easy one to reach. Spread out over a tundra region as vast as three-quarters of Europe, the 17,000 Even speak twenty different dialects, or have switched to another language altogether, often Yakut or Russian. Many are bi- or multilingual. Those who still speak their mother tongue well often travel with their reindeer herds or live in isolated villages, all seeing no one but their neighbors for months.
Our survey team needed to find out two things: how much the Evens use and value their language, and how widely their dialects differ. For this, we needed to test a previously recorded eastern Even language audio file among western Evens, preferably reindeer herders. Topolinoye, in the Sakha Republic, seemed the best place. With its bridge and road washed out, though, we needed to visit there when the river would still be frozen, daylight hours would be sufficient, and temperatures would be warm enough for travel—in March. When we found out a reindeer festival was to take place in Topolinoye, we felt the timing was right.
However, upon arrival in Yakutsk, the regional capital, our Even friend advised us to go to Sebyan-Kyuly instead, the westernmost Even village, where the reindeer festival had been relocated, and where language use was more vigorous.
But how?
There were no roads going to Sebyan-Kyuly, and helicopter flights that drop off goods there about once every three months return after only a few hours. Finally, we found a driver who would take us. We left in the late afternoon, with no idea what to expect. Spring had come early that year; temperatures were higher than normal at –4 to 5º F during the day. The small van took us over the snowy land, and across the Lena River. That crossing alone, with snow and blocks of ice shoveled into piles on either side of our passage, took 1 1/2 hours.
And then at 3:30 a.m., much to our surprise, the driver stopped. Was this Sebyan? Surely it couldn’t be this easy and quick to get there!
Indeed, it wasn’t. It turned out to be Syegen-Kyuly, a village with a similar name, located at the foot of the Werkhoyansk Mountains. Sebyan was another 130 miles farther. So for two days we stayed in Syegen, praying God would do a miracle. And he did: a wakhtovka, a huge six-wheel-drive truck, used only on special occasions, arrived from Sebyan! It was a dangerous trip the Sebyans rarely attempted, but a problem at their electricity station required electricians and supplies. And so they agreed to take us, and we started our journey on a sunny morning, following the frozen river into the mountains. Wherever the river filled the valley, the only way to get through was to drive on its icy surface.
We soon found that extremely cold temperatures would be best for such a trip. The relatively warm temperatures that year had already thinned the ice and made the river underneath flow all the faster. Though the driver did an amazing job finding the strongest places to drive on, the snow cover made it impossible for him to see one weak spot. We heard a loud crack. The wakhtovka came to a sudden halt. And its back end sank almost two feet down.
Silence in the wakhtovka.
For the next half hour the driver and his co-driver tried to get the vehicle out of the hole, while we and other passengers wondered whether we would sink and drown in the frigid Siberian river. Thank God, we did not. They managed to put reindeer skins under the wheels, providing enough traction to back off the cracked ice. Once out, we marveled at the size of the hole, while the drivers chipped ice off the back wheels and underside of the wakhtovka.
With no alternative, we drove onto the river again at a spot farther on, and the ice held. And so we continued the slow journey, ploughing through high snow and traveling on the frozen river in between the mountains—a region where few people dared travel. For 14 hours we observed our white, silent world, covering the miles and finally arriving at Sebyan.
Over the next three days, while electricians fixed the power station, we met with Evens. We got to know them as we interviewed them and as they helped with the dialect test. Then the village leader, a kind man, told us where to find the nearest reindeer herd and had the same wakhtovka take us there. After an hour of ploughing through a snow-covered landscape where no vehicle usually goes, we arrived at the camp: ten men were sleeping off a party they had had the night before and were incapable of speaking to us, except for one. The interview gave us insight into reindeer herding life, and we were surprised to find that these nomads take at least some books with them while wandering around the tundra.
Three days later, the wakhtovka made the same risky journey back down the mountains to Syegen, and we were on it. No falling through the ice this time, and once we were back in Syegen we expected a problem-free trip via a four-wheel-drive taxi to Yakutsk. Once on the road, in the late afternoon, however, the taxi started to smoke. Soon we were stuck again, this time on a quiet, snowy road near a tiny village. After two hours of tinkering with the car, the driver flagged down a passing car to get us to a warm house. Later that night we traveled to a town where our guide knew some Christians. Even though we arrived after midnight, they welcomed us heartily and gave us warm beds. The next day we covered the last few miles to Yakutsk. Exhausted, but thankful, we realized how our Heavenly Father had protected us while traveling through this hard-to-access area.
—by a young European woman
SIL International, a partner of JAARS, participates in language projects in Russia and other neighboring countries. The survey team identified nine Siberian languages as having a need for some level of linguistic work, Even being one.
