I’ve just finished writing my thesis, which means I am suddenly without a purpose in life. It also means you get to suffer through my reflections about some extremely niche topics. Unfortunately I have found no better way to extend my two-year struggle to as many people as possible, so this will have to do.

Sakhalin is a cold and humid island north of Japan, the size of Czechia or South Carolina. Once it connected to Siberia and Hokkaido, meaning much of the same pine forest covers it, while low mountains run north to south, and freezing marshes dot the lowlands. Despite this inhospitable habitat, little inhibits the bears and reindeer of the island from roaming around, one hunting the other, until three or four hundred years ago, the Uilta arrived on Sakhalin. 

The Uilta are a nomadic tribe, related to the Manchu who conquered China to found the Qing Dynasty (infamous for its Opium Wars with Britain), and possibly descended from the Jurchen before them, founders of the Jin Dynasty, which ruled much of northern China right up until the Mongols conquered most of the world, and brought the Black Death to medieval Europe. Anyway, the Uilta were satisfied with a much more sober life, taming those Sakhalin reindeer. Not just for their pelts and meat, but to use them for transport. That’s right, the Uilta used to ride around on reindeer. Some of them still do.

With the reindeer taken care of, Sakhalin’s bears needed a different lifestyle. Luckily the Uilta’s neighbours saw themselves fit to take care of this dilemma. The Nivkh have been living on Sakhalin for ages, and might be descendants of its original inhabitants. Their language is completely distinct and unrelated to any other, perhaps except the language of the bears. This is because the Nivkh centre their spirituality around these furry animals, which they welcome as representatives of the Gods. Nivkh men used to return from Sakhalin’s forests with a chosen bear cub, and give it a home at the centre of their village, complete with human clothing and not-so-godly cage. Unfortunately for the bear, after about two years being part of the community, it was ritually killed and consumed by the Nivkh, who used the bones to build an altar, sending the bear spirit back to the realm of the Gods.

The third and final subjects of my thesis were the Ainu, whose women used to tattoo imitation facial hair around their lips, and who have struggled against the Japanese for at least a millenium. Back then they used to live in Japan, north of Tokyo, but slowly the expansion of the Japanese state pushed them north, until they arrived on the southern shores of Sakhalin. Still they were not safe, and when Japan conquered the southern half of the island in 1905, the Ainu of Sakhalin found themselves learning Japanese and working in Japanese fisheries. 

Of course the Empire of Japan was not happy to share Sakhalin with the Empire of Russia, or well, the Empire of the Soviets, and so in 1920 they also occupied its northern half. Much attention has fallen to the conflict between the two, their political and economic rivalries, the extractive industries of both, hungry for coal and oil, but then as now, almost no one spared a thought for the island’s indigenous inhabitants. The reindeer-riding Uilta, the bear-sacrificing Nivkh, and the Japanese-employed Ainu.

So, two years ago I set out to learn about them, to find out what happened to these remarkable people between 1920 and 1925. As you already know, I spent a year in Japan, but besides all the travelling around, I also spent some time on my thesis. Really, I promise. You can read about it here, in Part 2!