The Way of the Whales, 6-8, p. 1

	Green eyes.
	
	Seal brown hair.
	
	Me, Buniq.
	
	The ocean, my life.
	
	The warm, cozy, welcoming feeling of my Inuit tribe.
	
	My ears hear the whistle of the wind passing by, greeting me this mid-summer morning. I see the waves fiercely rushing in from the West. I search the shore for my father for went going to sea today. No luck. I can hear the whales for they are coming. They are coming for the whaling season. 
        My father is the leader of our whaling team. I do not have the face of my father. He has brown eyes and sandy brown hair. He is strong, confident, and always in charge. I do not like whaling. We can live other ways, without killing the whales. The whales are like my village:  they have family, they have friends, they have lives too. I have tried to convince Magua, our tribe leader, to stop the whaling, but he will not listen. He says that Alaska is meant for whaling, and I can't do anything about it. I know I can make a difference. I get a tingling sensation every time we hunt whales. The large blues eyes stare up at me with their last breath, calling me to save them. I will save them.
        "Buniq!" My mother calls from our small home up on the mountainside.
        "Yes, Aaga!" I call running back down the steep mountain to my home The 
where my mother is.
        My mother is the healer of our village; she is kind and gentle. I resemble my mother. We have the same eyes, the same hair, and as some say, the same voice. Everybody likes her, but she doesn't get the respect she deserves. I've 
		The Way of the Whales, 6-8, p. 2

never known why people treat her like they do. I wish that I could change that. Today, I will go to town for it is a Sunday. There is no school, and I must go to Magua pleading for him to listen. 
        As I get closer to my home, I can hear the voices of men. I contemplate whether it is my father's voice that I hear. It sounds weak, but it also has the deep, rusty tone that his voice has. This cannot be good.  My father is supposed to be at sea today, not at home. I tell myself that he probably just has a cold, or the waves are too rough, but I know I'm wrong. The waves are perfect today, breaking big close to the shore. My father never gets a cold, and if he did, it wouldn't slow him down.
        As I grow closer to the small creek near my home, the voice of my father grows weaker. Like when we whale, my hands start to tingle. They do this only when something is wrong or out of place. I walk into my home sniffing the familiar smell of the medicines that my mother uses for mild to harsh wounds. Even though she doesn't use the medicines very often, the smell lingers in the air, never leaving my home. This time the smell isn't just a pinch of it, it is a strong, fresh scent.  I enter my mother's working area and see my father lying on the examining table. He is in very much pain. I search his body for a wound or burn, but I am unsuccessful. My mother moves her hand from his body, revealing a wound that I know I will never forget. I feel like I am about to faint, but instead I fall into my mother's arms, tears sprouting in my eyes. I hold them back, using all my might. I have so many questions running through my head. There is "What 
happened?" "Is he going to be okay?" "Who's going to be the new whaling leader?" 
        My mother leads me out of the room before I can say my questions aloud.
        "I know what you may be thinking," she tells me, "but it's not as bad as it looks. He will just need a few weeks of rest and some medicine, but then he will be back to normal.
        Now, I jump to my biggest question, "How did it happen?"
        The Way of the Whales, 6-8, p. 3

	"On way to the beach, he fell down the mountainside and crashed into some sharp rocks. We are very lucky that it wasn't worse."
        I breathe a sigh of relief; it feels amazing to have that burden off my shoulders. I thought he was going to die, I really did.
        It has been two months since my father's accident. He is now healed, and the whaling will start in two weeks. We have spotted many Blue whales, several Fin whales, and an occasional Humpback. As usual, today I will go to town asking Magua to end the whaling. Many times I have tried to plead with my father instead of Magua, but my father just laughs. I have spent every Sunday doing this for the past three years. I make the short journey early in the morning, before Magua makes his morning speech in the town center. His morning speech is always the same. He counts down the days to the whaling, and then he gives any other small announcements that he has for the day. My father usually shows anger when I leave before the morning speech, but I will not listen. I will not listen until the whaling is ended. 
        The journey to town is rough and slippery, but as long as we go during low tide, it is quite simple. I follow the stream to the ocean and then climb down the steep side of the grassy hill onto the sharp rocks that my father had fallen on. From here it is just a short walk on the rocks into town. Many people take the way through the forest, but I don't, for it is much longer and very dark. In the distance I can see the town emerging from the dusk, like the sun. As I walk through our small town, it is so quiet I would be able to hear the blow of a whale a mile away. I approach Magua's house, and before I even knock on his wooden door, he opens the door and welcomes me in. Every time I go there, he has such a warm, welcoming smile. I always get a sense of hope that maybe he will finally stop the whaling, but I get the same answer every time. My mother always says that I am really good at arguing, and that someday I will go to a big city and become a lawyer. Either my mother is lying, or Magua is really stubborn. 
        As soon as Magua lets me in, I immediately start talking. "Magua, do you 
The Way of the Whales, 6-8, p. 4

even realize what you're doing? You're murdering innocent creatures. What did they do to you that makes them deserve this? There are so many other ways for our community to survive. Why do we have to choose this? Can we at least try something different for a while?" By this time I am sobbing. I just can't control myself. I have such a strong opinion; I can't ignore it.
        "Buniq, my child, I'm sorry this upsets you so much, but I have to say no. I will continue the whaling this year."
        With that, I turn my back on him and scream, "If you won't stop the whaling, I will!" Adrenaline rushes through me, and I know that I need to do something. Now. 
        I run to the ocean and see a whale about thirty yards out. I jump off the cliff into the water. I know that this isn't safe, but safety is the last thing on my mind. I swim as fast as I can towards the whale. I have never swum this fast. It is like I am a fish gliding through the water. As I move farther away from the shore, the whale becomes more clear. I have never been this close to one in water before. It feels amazing to know that I am doing something without someone telling me to do it. I am so lost in my thoughts that I don't realize I am just a couple feet away from the whale. Without thinking, I swim up to it and get on it. It is tricky because it is so slippery, but I am used to it because I walk on slippery rocks every day. I hook my foot on a barnacle and lift myself up. The whale hardly even notices. I look down on its big blue eyes, and they shine at me, almost saying thank you. I am amazed. It feels like it is just me and the whale, like nobody else exists. I read a book about a girl riding the whales, but my father said it was fictional. I tried to believe that it was real, but I knew my father was right. It is like a dream; I am on a whale cruising the shoreline silently. The breeze brushes past me in a magical fashion giving me the chills. This normally would bother me but not today. It is like a fairytale, a fairytale that has come to life. Suddenly I wake from my thoughts having heard my name. I look up toward the warmth of my home, and I see the blur of my mother. She is screaming my name. As though 
The Way of the Whales, 6-8, p. 5

swimming with whales is an everyday activity, I slide off it and start swimming to shore. Something about me has changed. If someone had told me the day before that I was going to swim with a whale and be serene about it, I would have thought they were crazy. By the time I get to shore, my mother, father, Magua, and several village people who I don't recognize are gathered on the shore. 
         "Buniq, you must never ever do that again. What has gotten into you?"
          "I'm sorry, Aaga. After visiting Magua this morning, I was so angry that all I wanted to do was go see the whales myself."
           "Do you know what you have done?" My father chimes in. "When you were in the water a helicopter was flying by and saw you out there with the whale. Now, there are going to be people coming from all over to see you.  Everybody in the country is going to want to come and see you swim with the whales. You know that we've been avoiding tourist attention for years, I'm not going to let you ruin that to. Also, just so that you know, you will not be going into the water again as long as I'm still breathing."
        "But Papa," I whined.
        "You heard me. Now go up to our house while I talk with your mother and Magua."
        As I prepare for the steep journey up the cliff, I feel surprisingly happy. I thought that after being scolded, I would feel down, but I feel like I actually did something, like I made a difference.
        The next day there is a big front headline page in the newspaper that says, "Whale Swimming?" I turn the page hoping that the article isn't about my swimming with the whales, but all I see is a full-page picture of me swimming with the whale. I gasp. I hadn't even realized that the whale was so big, so real.
        "My father is going to kill me," I think to myself. Then I hear him getting out of bed. Out of instinct, I grab the newspaper and run out of the house. As I approach the top of hill, I start reading from where I left off. It says that I'd been swimming with the whales since I was little, that I could talk to the whales, and 
The Way of the Whales, 6-8, p. 6

that the whales would listen to me. It is all a bunch of lies. Why would these people do this? They have evil, rotten minds.  If I am going to be in the paper, couldn't it be in a way that would get my point across?
         I have so many thoughts in mind that I don't even realize that this can be exactly what I want;  this can be a way out of whaling. As long as everything goes just right, this can be the perfect opportunity. The first thing I do is to make sure that my mother and father do not see the newspaper. The problem is that everyone in my village reads the paper, so at least one person is bound to tell them. Surprisingly, no one says a thing about it all day. I am shocked. When evening comes, several helicopters all fly by at the same time. Helicopters are very common in my village, but not this many at once. They drift off a couple miles inland and then land. Several hours later, about ten cameramen enter our village wanting to speak with everyone. Even though it isn't morning, Magua makes an announcement. He say that the cameramen are offering him a very large amount of money if they can film our village for the rest of the day. Then he say in his loud, deep voice, "Will Buniq and family please come to my home directly following this announcement." Oh no. This is bad. This is really bad. My father hates it when people from the "outside world" come to our village. I find my parents, and we head silently to Magua's. 
        Again, before I get a chance to knock, Magua opens the door. My parents look a little surprised, but I am not. It is very unusual for me to knock. He welcomes us in with that same warm and welcoming feeling that I get each Sunday. I can sense that my parents are nervous; they don't know why we are there.
        "Buniq, I think that you know why I have called you here," Magua states. "You are attracting tourist interest from what you did yesterday. I apologize for being harsh with you, but I didn't know how else to tell you." 
        "Whaling is wrong," I interrupt, "I know it's hard for you to imagine, and I respect that, but we have to find a new way of living. All this tourist attraction is 
The Way of the Whales, 6-8, p. 7

an opportunity that I think we should take. We can still use all our knowledge of whales, but this time not against them. They can help us do this. When I was swimming out there yesterday, and the whale looked up at me with its big blue eyes, it was really saying I will help you. The whales are not mean, harmful creatures. They are creatures of beauty and kindness. We cannot let this opportunity pass for it will probably be the biggest one we will ever get."
        Magua's eyes shift. It is almost as if he is becoming another person. One minute he obviously doesn't want to listen to me, and the next he is intent on hearing more. 
        "I apologize for never listening to you, Buniq, and I never thought I would say this, but I agree with you." After saying this, tears begin to swell in my father's eyes. I have never seen him cry which makes this a first. Today is a first for a lot of things. 
        "I agree with you completely and will listen to your words forever," my mother says kindly.
       "Thank you both so much, but I don't think it will mean anything unless Magua agrees to stop the whaling for good," I say in the most convincing voice I can muster. We all look at Magua in anticipation, waiting for some kind of response.
        "I have no idea why I didn't do this sooner, but yes, I will end the whaling." Hearing this, I can not keep my tears back. I start sobbing, and my mother and father then follow. We are like a choir of sobs. I want to go and jump in the water and swim again with the whales, but I know that mother and father would not have great pleasure if I did. 
        It is now September. We are very self-sufficient, even more so than before, and we have not killed a single whale this year. Almost everyone in my tribe now swims with the whales, and we are all very close. Instead of being the whaling leader, my father is now our show organizer. It, of course, is a job where you boss people around, but it is also very important. My mother is still the healer of 
The Way of the Whales, 6-8, p. 8

our community, but she comes daily down to the ocean for a quick swim. (Well, she says it's going to be quick, but it always ends up being at least two hours.) I am very glad that I can finally see her getting the respect she deserves. My tribe has now converted its livelihood into a tourist attraction. Even though we have changed many things we still have the same beliefs and celebrations. That is Magua’s only compromise. 	
	We have many whale shows in which I often perform. Occasionally, we will let visitors try swimming with a whale. People come from all over the world to visit us and see the magic in the whales. We also just passed a law that you can no longer go whaling in the United States. The magic of the whales is in us now and will be in us forever. Follow the way of the whales.