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Experiences of Power among the Sekani
power without ever contextualizing it in an academic venue by pub-
lications or conferences. I rarely spoke about it, since I, too, was con-
sidered contaminated.
I had many strange dealings with animals, but one stands out enough
that I’ve carried the image with me for twenty years. One day, a
woman came to my cabin with a large dog on a leash. That was un-
usual, since women usually have nothing to do with dogs, which the
Sekani consider to be work animals used only while hunting. These
dogs are never allowed to stray since they are aggressive. I was sitting
on the steps in front of my one-room cabin. It was near sunset and my
workday was over. I was thinking that it was time to get my notes in
order, make some bannock bread, split some wood for cooking and
heating. I concentrated on the stick I was whittling instead. Time to
do all that later. I was tired.
I was quickly brought back to reality as Marie approached. The dog,
which had no name, weighed more than she did and was fairly aggres-
sive, I knew. Now, it was following her quietly. This dog, like the oth-
ers in the community, recognized only one master. To put them in har-
nesses, one needed to out-alpha the alpha male and have no fear. This
dog was a fine specimen, half wolf, it seemed. He never barked, like
the other large work dogs in the community. They would impassively
regard passersby, apparently with a neutral look, but I knew better
than to get too close and try to pet them. I had once tried to tame one
by feeding it every day for nearly two weeks. Every day, I got closer
and closer, and the dog began recognizing me when I came out of my
cabin with a piece of bannock. He would sit down on his haunches.
Just when I thought I had tamed him (he waited without growling till
I tossed him the food), he nearly took my hand off. It was not his fault.
The Sekani had told me not to play with dogs. The only other breed
in the community was a small Chihuahua-like monster (undoubtedly
a Tahltan bear dog) with an even worse temperament.
As Marie came closer, the dog sat down quietly and cocked its head
in my direction. Marie told me that the dog had bitten a fishhook that
had been stuck in a piece of dried fish she was feeding it, and asked
me to get it out. The hook had gone clean through the upper gums
on the right, just behind the canine (what else?). It was a nasty thing,
