In Wales, the Kingikmiut School was filled with drums, dancing, and community for the 24th annual Kingikmiut Dance Festival. Wales sits on the westernmost point of the Seward Peninsula, just over 50 miles from Russia. With a population just over 100 people, the community is quiet for most of the year.
But each year, the Kingikmiut School gym is flooded with the beating drums and stomping feet of dance groups from across Alaska.
Robert Tokeinna Jr. is the president of the Native Village of Wales and the drum leader of Wales’ own Kingikmiut Dance Group.
“They call this the sleepless festival, where you sometimes get no sleep. But in the end, it's always fun. It's a lot of fun to be here,” Tokeinna said.
On opening night, over 200 people watch six dance groups from King Island, Anchorage’s Kingikmiut Group, Teller, Unalakleet, Gambell and Savoonga perform late into the morning hours.
“I feel it’s important because you start showing the kids who they are. It might be a shadow, but it's something that the kids could own,” Tokeinna said. “They could know the story, Wales was on a 50 year hiatus.”
The festival started in 2000 and has only missed one year — during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Tokeinna said originally, the goal was to bring more drumming and singing to the remote community.
"That was the motive at first, and then it turned into a gathering where they bring in professionals for the kids to visually see the storytelling and the drumming and singing that combines the two of telling a story and doing a dance,” Tokeinna said.
On night two of the festival, attendees painted vibrant colors on ice fishing hooks as elders sang religious-themed music. The workshop was hosted by Norton Sound Health Corporation, Nome’s regional hospital.
Nome resident Mary Anne Olanna Oxereok is originally from Wales. She was in charge of meals for the festival, and has been every year since the first festival in 2000. She said the festival brought back a vital piece of Wales’ identity.
“It's very good for the kids, long ago, when I was growing up, they cut off the dancing, and as I got older, they brought it back to our children,” Oxereok said. “I don't even know how to dance, but I'm happy the children have it today.”
Tungwenuk was drumming for the Anchorage Kingikmiut Dance Group this year. Although he lives in Anchorage, Tungwenuk said the festival allowed him to connect with his family’s Kingikmiut roots.
“It provides an opportunity for all of us to come together, in spite of our differences. The way we've managed to eke out an existence, if not in an urban environment, in the villages in the surrounding area of this region,” Tungwenuk said. “To continue to come together, visit over coffee, watch and dance, make mistakes on some songs. Sing the same songs.”
The festival culminated in a joint performance by all of the groups. Drummers lined the walls as dancers filled the gym floor. Everyone, no matter where they’re from, was in the room together – drumming, dancing and singing as one.
