Kunuugama

As soon as I heard my home community of Clyde River was interested in a bowhead whale hunt, I knew I wanted to be there, to be a part of my community in such a significant moment. In the months leading up to it, I was very excited; a week prior to the hunt, I was starting to lose sleep with excitement.

I knew it would be a monumental moment, a reclamation of part of ourselves. Bowhead whaling is a practice almost forgotten, but still alive in stories and oral history. Subsistence whaling had been replaced by Inuit assisting in commercial European whaling which decimated the population as a result of mass huntings in the 1800s and early 1900s.

Today, the whale population is healthy again;. The hunt is slowly being revived. The traditional hunt is unlike any other because it tests the cohesiveness of a community. It takes a large team to pull it off: a definitive characteristic of Inuit. Teamwork [or cooperation] is how we had not only survived but thrived in our environment for [hundreds/thousand of years]. Given that there would surely be apprehension and fear of the experiential unknown, I hoped with all my might that second guessing would not take hold within the community and affect the success of the hunt.

Only one member of the team, Niore Iqalukjuak had taken part in such a hunt before. It was likely this one could be very different from what he had taken part in, even if much of the approach is to be the same, and he had much to offer from that experience. But I believed in our abilities as a hunting society, that the hunter instinct would kick in. The skill, astuteness, intuitiveness, alertness, even if everyone was not known to be angunatturiktuq (abled hunter), would work – especially if everyone is to play a role: atuutiqaqtuinnauniaqtugut (having a purpose).

A couple of days before the hunt was to start I attended the safety and use demonstration by Glen Williams of the explosive harpoon gun. I was impressed by the level of accuracy and detail of the translation of the tool and all its intricate parts by the local sergeant of Rangers Levi Palituq, who was also the chair of the organizing committee.

In the use of our language, Inuktitut, that was only the start of what was to come. After the demonstration, a discussion about the strategy of the hunt ensued. The hunters were shown photo slides of previous bowhead whale hunts in Nunavut. As the discussion took place informally, I was overwhelmed by the terminology I had not been exposed to.

The hunters spoke of the bowhead whale hunt and the tools and methods that were to be used: anguvigaq, niutaq, aaqsiiq: a whole sect of a language related to this hunt that had been sleeping had awoken in the community while planning it. It was amazing to witness and hear the hunters using the words in various contexts, and ways as they had come alive again. It was a moment to see the interconnectedness of culture, language and identity and significance of our oral history.

Unexpectedly the day before the hunt was to start a person in a leadership role (not related to the hunt) reamed me with an accusation I was not prepared for. I was taken aback, and wondered briefly, emotionally whether I wanted to stay where I felt unwelcomed. Eventually I decided I would stay for what I came there for and be a part of the community that I feel is my own and will always associate as my home, the place that defined me.

In empowering situations, petty politics can be expected as we are, unfortunately, conditioned to relate to ourselves oppressively. A test to our resolve would come in various ways as the community prepared for a much more complex hunt, one which had not been practiced in living memory.

We were told to meet at the breakwater in the morning. It took a while to depart for the hunt. No one seemed to know what the delay was a result of, but some guessed the fog and ice down the inlet had something to do with it. There was a buzz in the air, and excitement for what was to possibly come. The sun was out smiling down at the hunters, and the community. When it was time to leave, people were quick to get in the boats. Except us; the mayor Jerry Natanine had forgotten the bullet for the harpoon gun he was to use. After a quick trip to his house, off we went. We left, antsy on our feet with anticipation.

We stopped down the inlet from the community in Akulaanga. Some climbed the hill Pamialluat to see the ice conditions ahead. People ate, talked, teased, and laughed. There was energy like no other, the collaborative spirit was in the air. We then headed for Umiujaq, a small island in front of Cape Christian in the area where the hunt was planned, and landed the boats. We sent a climber to the top of the hill to scope out the scene for arviit (bowheads, plural. Arvik, singular). The wind picked up and ice conditions were not great. Chunks of ice were everywhere in sight; even if the inlet was navigable by boat, it would be difficult conditions in which to hunt such a large whale. Larry Kautuq (my grandfather by namesake) caught a seal. We ate, and then headed to Cape Christian to set up camp. After the tents were up, it was clear we would not be leaving to go hunting that evening. Everyone settled into their tents, played cards or mingled outside. Some started the rope work for the four boats that were to hold lines with the floats. Ropes over 50 feet long were wound neatly in a barrel, so that they would not tangle when released. Some teams stayed up late finishing them, others finished the long and mundane task in the morning.

The next day, the wind and ice conditions were still not ideal, another test of our patience. We waited until that evening, when the hunting team decided that Captain David Iqaqrialu would drive his four-wheeler to an area further north of the cape. There was less ice there, there had also been sightings of arviit. First he spotted some large ones, excitement growing among the hunters as he described the whales to us by VHF radio. He finally described a third one which seemed smaller, and there seemed to be complete silence of anticipation. The captain then gave the go ahead for the crews to set off on the hunt. It was about 9:30 in the evening. The hunting party moved swiftly while the spectators on site relayed a play-by-play over VHF of what was happening to those still in the community. The captain would direct the hunt from the hill, which seemed selfless as he would not directly partake. He would have the advantage of distance to direct the parties, while Sandy Kautuq the assistant Captain directed the hunt on the scene. Our boat, captained by Niore Iqalukjuak was boat number six, last in line with the explosive harpoon gun.

The captain announced that Sandy’s canoe was headed towards a bowhead that seemed to be the smaller of the ones he had seen. All of the boats veered in the direction. Once it started to come up for air, we knew it was that one. The chase was on and the adrenaline kicked in. We seemed to just observe it at first while trying to pick up the pace to catch up to it. Then the first harpooner’s, Sandy’s boat was set, and in no time Roger Etuangat harpooned it. At 11:07 pm, it was struck and the buoy was attached. The arvik became very aggressive. I could not imagine how it could be hunted with that much aggression. It started to flap its flippers and tail to scare us away, and charge at boats – including ours.

It became a bit chaotic, and some hunters seemed to lose their focus. Uutukuttuk (Joanasie Illauq) as the driver was next in line in the women’s boat, and was attempting to reach this whale. He seemed hesitant – understandably. He seemed to struggle with aligning his boat to the whale’s breathing times. He would be behind each time it came up to breath. Finally, the harpooner Meena Tassugat was close enough to strike it. I could see Cynthia Panikpak the lines person dump the buoy, the rope, yelp and say “ajai” with the rope almost getting caught on something. The float was on!

Leslie (Boy) Ashevak’s boat that was next. Joelie Sanguya seemed be headed towards the whale and was radioed to hold off, it turned out afterwards his radio was not working at the time. Boy went full on, and right at it. Once he reached it, his whole boat, including his engines, was lifted out of the water by the whale. We watched, stunned. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as we tried to register what we were seeing. As quick as it had been to lift Boy’s boat, the arvik swam off. The boat rocked slightly, and they headed away from the hunt. It seemed they were getting into position, but the next thing we heard on the radio was that he was taking in water and was headed towards the shore. Niore radioed to ask if they needed to be picked up. He said no, they’ll make it. After reaching shore, Boy’s crew were picked up by two other boats and continued to participate.

Things seemed chaotic for the first while as the hunters and the crews worked to catch their senses as excitement and overwhelm had overtaken them. The hunt of this colossal aggressive mammal was clearly more of a challenge than we all had anticipated.

All of a sudden, our boat was expected to use the explosive device. Noah Kautuq had struggled putting the two pieces of the pole together, then putting the gun piece on. The wooden pole seemed to have expanded, perhaps with humidity sitting in the boat overnight. The pieces were not fitting well into the metal sleeves. In true Inuk fashion, Noah improvised with a piece of rope to keep the gun part attached to the pole. Then he and Jerry struggled putting the bullet in. Between them and Niore, they somehow managed to get it loaded. Then Jerry stood up, got in position,fired. I didn’t know how explosive it would be, whether I should duck or watch, so I half ducked because I wanted to see. We heard it set off; the whale seemed to roll but it did not seem to have any impact.

After a while, the hunters seemed to get into a rhythm with the whale. Self-doubt seemed to dissipate and the hunters emerged. It was incredible to watch as they started driving the anguvigait (lance, in plural. Anguvigaq, singular) into the whale, not just harpooning it anymore. It was clear who amongst the group were not run by fear. That energy seemed to overtake everyone involved. After a while the younger participants were encouraged and supported to drive the anguvigait into the whale, including Sandy’s young son Alexander at age five the youngest of the hunters, also two of our teens Leroy Kautuq and Maybelle Piungittuq.Not wanting to prolong the suffering, it was Noah’s turn to strike it with the harpoon gun from our boat. The trigger had been bent, so he and Jerry had to bend it back into position. Then load it. Again, it did not want to load. When he finally had it loaded, and he hit the whale, it sounded like there was a small bang, then two seconds later we heard the sound of the explosive device going off. Again, it seemed to have very little impact on the whale which made me question whether the gun was somehow defective. The whale continued to swim.

All the anguvigait seemed to have been used, and we were on a slight low on the excitement level. Some of the anguvigait were retrieved and it continued. When the youngest girl Maybelle drove the anguvigaq into the whale, we finally saw the first sign of it weakening. It stopped breathing out clear water and began exhaling blood. The end was finally near, a relief as we were mindful of not wanting to prolong the suffering.

It took about an hour and a half until we thought it was dead (12:38 am). As we all approached it, it jolted, and swam some distance. As quickly as it jolted more anguvigait were used. Finally it was on its side. I looked at it from our boat, and it seemed to stare at me. How beautiful it was. Feeling emotional, I thanked it for giving itself, told its spirit we deeply appreciate you. I did not look at the time, but that is when Esa Piungittuq set off the flare gun to signal the arvik was dead.The cheers could be heard on the radio. It looked like the whole community was strewn across the hill with their arms up in the air. What an image to have imprinted in the mind.

The hunters took turns going on the whale; photos were taken. Then the work began to try to make it transportable. We could not resist tasting the maktak, sharing the elation and gratitude. As the work began to tie it up to transport, again it stood out who were used to hunting and working in these conditions, they took the lead. There was one tricky spot they had to attach the whale, Aimosie Sivugat was held hanging by the floater suit belt while he attached the two flippers with rope. Jerry called on the biologist to help, as he stood watching.

Bringing the whale home, everyone had to be alert and ready to either push the boat off from ice or to make sure the ropes did not tangle in the propellers. Four boats were tied one after another to transport the arvik. Winds and fog hit, making the task more challenging. At times, it was a bit frustrating to watch; some were slower to respond than others. I had to remind myself to be patient and understanding that this was a moment and experience which serves a purpose for every individual as it does for me. Our hunting and land skills have been largely compromised, against a backdrop of the idea of abandoning our ways having faced strong assimilation efforts. Clearly for some of us, our hunting skills having been more comprised than others. This is a reflection of our society. In the end the whale was transported successfully to the identified beaching location.

Taking part and witnessing the hunt was truly an amazing experience. It had a profound affect on me, that can only be described by saying a sleeping part of my spirit was awakened. I have a whole new respect for our existence as a hunting society, and for those during the hunt who managed to shine and show their adeptness and quick judgment to make this a successful hunt.

In our boat, in the moments when a bit of panic would set in, Niore would chuckle at the chaos. Sometimes he would chime calm advice on radio. Jerry was so excited he could not confine himself from being comical and silly. He made us laugh throughout. Noah kept singing akuqtujuuk anngutivuuk, a song of hope. Our youngest, Anthony Iqaqrialu cheered on and encouraged each harpooner. I think the hunt can only get better as more opportunity allows it.

I knew the hardest work would start once we beached the whale and began to cut it up. The community pulled together well for that too. The team of arviuqtiit (butchers) worked tirelessly, not to mention the organizing committee that worked for months to make this hunt happen. The community supported the effort, some with indifference, and some doubted but supported in the end. The hunters, the film crew, the backup boat, I feel we have become more kin than before, ilagivassi, for sharing this moment.

Like many, I’m sure, it is an experience I will never forget. It will remain in my heart. Where a community is one, one is the community. Incredible, incredible!

As the hunt finished, our boat captain Niore radioed his father, who was listening in the community. He said: “ataataa, asuillaaraalulli!” (So it came to be). There was no reply; we knew in our hearts that one of the respected leaders and Elder in the community was overtaken by the moment, like all of us.

On this day twenty five years ago, with all the promise, hope and anticipation it brought, I stood on stage with Lucy Illauq and Peter Gzowski hosting the televised celebration of the creation of the Nunavut Territory. The coverage was in Inuktitut, English and French. I recited the Inuktitut introductions, we took turns mixing up the order of languages so as not to seemingly prioritize any of them. When it was time to introduce the Prime Minister, he stood up to speak, I told him to hold on as I needed to say his introduction in Inuktitut first. It was a small act of assertion, but the day stood for us Inuit starting this process of asserting ourselves, claiming our place.

Today, there is much to be celebrated, but we must acknowledge there is a huge stain on Nunavut still that we must clean up. It has to do with linguicide we are allowing.

Over the twenty-five years, we have seen the surge of creative arts and expression awakening. Throat singing, drumming, mixed with modern music, visual arts, film, garment making, adornments such as earrings, tunniit (tattoos), country food cuisine, poetry and writing.  Young people are taking these arts on and running with them, and it is a beautiful thing to see. It is also inspiring to observe young people just owning their space in these creative ways, a lot quicker and with more vigor than our generation. As my friend Liina Ivik says and we are not going back. This is only the beginning with taking back the spirit of Inuitness.

Perhaps it is not an accident, along with the blossoming arts is the space the LGBTQ2+ community are claiming in expression and arts, therefore in our community. Freeing all of us from indoctrinated ideas of very binary or either/or ways of seeing relationships, genders, and the terms we use to refer to people in the English language. By no means, are the LGBTQ2+ community safe from hate, there is no shortage of religious zealots who spread their hate and intolerance with hurtful words. So versed in the colonial lens of seeing the world that allows self-loathing to prevail. Hate is, after all, reflection of self. This is all to say there is starting to be safety in numbers.

Art is also in the items we use. I remember the beautifully refined tools my grandfather created, to be used for hunting. They could have been displayed as art pieces, but they were utilitarian. And look at the beautiful parkas, kamiik and other garments that are made.  Art is everywhere we look.

Expression and arts means practicing humanity, rawness, exploring depths of emotions and minds, love, spirit, and in utilitarian items. I hope we sit for a moment and honour this reclamation of a part of ourselves. Just very recently Elisapee Isaac in receiving her Juno award stated we have no word for art in our language because we are all meant to be creative. Just sit on that, breath, take it in.

There is, however, a huge part of our spirit still oppressed in Nunavut. It is our language! A lens into seeing the majestic place we live in, and our relationships in it. We are still stealing this lens from our children, by not having an education system that ensures quality language learning happens.

Education is a sensitive and emotionally charged subject. We know instinctively that it is an instrument of indoctrination into the western philosophy, views and systems. Otherwise, why has the west insisted on controlling education as part of their colonial project? Think about the damage the residential schools and federal day schools did to our society. I, like so many, live with it. Because, control over education and spirituality are control over the minds of a society. Over centuries Europe or settler European nations have perfected the science for imperialist or capitalist cause, an economic system that will benefit the colonial or settler colonial nation. We are not taught to think but to simply absorb the textbooks and regurgitate them, so we will learn to do that in society. Otherwise, our education system would mean an Inuit worldview is intact, creates a better economic system on our terms and self-determination resulting in better living conditions. Versus partaking in the capitalist system that serves that larger Nation state, and Inuit when the Nation state only chooses.

After 25 years of Nunavut, Inuit children are still being taught that Canada was discovered by Europeans. Both my children have been taught about the explorers that came to our land, discovered and claimed it. This means the doctrine of discovery is still the premise of our education system, with English as the language as the marker of success.

Imagine that after decades of Inuit striving for systems that protect their way of life and language, to gain a government and organizations they thought would work hard to implement these ideas has meant the reverse. We have done nothing! Nunavut’s biggest failing is the education system. I am ashamed as a Nunavummiut we are still indoctrinating our children in English, and that their ancestors are invisible by not teaching them their own history, therefore they are invisible and do not matter. Imagine going through years of acculturation, and what that does to one’s self-esteem. Then getting as far as your vulnerability allows you to go in this system and having almost no opportunities to make a living. That is Nunavut.

A brief history on language legislation in Nunavut…

After the Nunavut territory was established, and the work to ensure it had systems to function as a government, the first order of business was to create language and education legislation. It took seven years to draft the two language acts and the education act. I have seen the binders of research that went into creating these language acts. I can say, the best models of language policy, including Indigenous language work was reviewed in order to create Nunavut’s language policies. I was also in the government legal division for some of the language law drafting phase, where it was debated and options were given to legislators on whether there should be fines for businesses not abiding Inuktut service requirements or not. There was also extensive public consultation between 2004-2007. This was a process of righting the wrong of language policy of extermination. So we thought.

The reason there were three pieces of language legislation was that Official languages act would recognize the official languages of the territory. Nunavut being part of Canada felt it had no choice but to have English and French as official languages along with Inuktut. The Inuit language protection act would take special measures to protect the Inuktut language, so that it would have a language authority that would create language tools, decide on standard terminology, obligates governments and businesses on minimum standards, and create a right for parents to receive language of instruction in Inuktut for their children. The Education Act was, obviously outlining how the Education system was to deliver in all official languages, including a promise of bilingual education of English and Inuktut (with exception of the French language system).

It must be noted that the language acts talk about ‘Inuit language’ because it was recognized Inuinnaqtun dialect and Inuktitut dialect have different terms referring to the Inuit language in their dialect. Later, the term Inuktut was used to refer to both the dialects. To this day we have Inuit complaining about the term Inuktut, a term meant to unify an approach to protect our language. Failing to see that the term is meant to refer to our language. That, and attitude of dialect dominance are one of the biggest barriers to getting ahead with approach to language protection. ‘My dialect is better than yours’ or ‘that is not how we say it in my dialect’, the language and cultural policing does so much to continue deterring of language learning. With the deterioration of the language where English is becoming more and more dominant, makes for hostile and difficult environment for language learners. Lateral violence, conformity, along with not having an education system that ensures we learn the language well, is a recipe for Inuktut to fade away.

With Education Act, language of instruction was supposed to reach school year 2019-2020. But nothing was done to actualise this goal. No additional training for teachers, no special efforts to train teachers to instruct in Inuktut, no curriculum and material creation that became public or available. We know there was a lot of work done to create curriculum from the Elders that worked hard on them, but the naysayers in the system either hid them away or never revealed them. There are people in the system who do not want Inuktut to be a strong component of the education system. They make excuses of how it can’t or won’t be done. Too much work, too much money, too many unknowns. This casts a doubt on Inuit who initially believed or believe it could be done.

The previous government amended the Inuit Language Protection Act, taking away parents right to receive Inuktut education for their children. And amending the Education Act taking away powers from local education authorities.  So, from passive inaction, the government proactively took away rights and means for parents and communities to control how education is to be delivered.

All of the the members of the legislative assembly passed the amendment, every single one of them. I cannot understand how not even one asked why. It makes me think about how far we get caught in the system. So, in November 2020, all the members of legislative assembly unanimously consented to taking away these rights.

As a Nunavummiut Inuk, I am embarrassed this has happened. In a government with Inuit leaders. Embarrassed we continue to allow oppressive acts that hinder progression of protecting our culture and language.

I only half blame the politicians though. Yes, they are responsible for the continued inaction that keeps moving target dates to teach our children Inuktut as our language rapidly declines. The recent target date is a promise of a phased approach with all grades being taught Inuktut by the year 2039, in a language arts program. So the goal has been reduced to a class, with target late furthered. As time passes, it will become more and more difficult with passing of time, and strong language holders becoming fewer and fewer. Rather than making bold decisions and fighting for Inuit, political leaders pass it on to the next group of leaders.

Back to half blaming, because I know how difficult it is to shift the system that is full of administrators working hard to uphold the status quo. When I served as a languages commissioner, it took a toll on my mental health. I literally started to feel crazy for asserting rights for Inuit. When I took the job on, I learned the position had been demoted to an assistant deputy minister level, answering to the Clerk. I fought behind the scenes for the independence of the office, making no headway. Even though clear legislative intent did not match policy, and legal opinions substantiated this.

In a position that should be non contentious lobbying for language rights, in a region that is majority Inuit, the biggest questioners of actions I took were Inuit politicians (ironically, those who do not speak Inuktut were the biggest opponents). The undermining probably had a lot to do with the fact I was a young Inuk woman with a law degree, I had to be quieted.

I was determined to shift the office to deal with systemic issues rather than individual complaints, especially with the anticipation of additions to the role under Inuit Language Protection Act. It was rife with opportunity to shift how the office functions. Again, the behind the scenes questioning and undermining took a toll.  I can say, there are politicians who do not care about protecting the language. They will fight it, along with administration that will vigorously support them. The crazy thing is their rationale seems totally normal, when it is in fact absurd. That is how the system works.

It will take huge effort to gain administration that serves the interest of Inuit. And we must continue, as Inuit to educate ourselves on what it means to be anti-colonial and what reclamation is. We must stop being so nice to naysayers and equip ourselves with facts and figures, and create a network of support.

In October 2021, Nunavut Tunngavik Inc. filed lawsuit against the territorial government for failing to deliver education in Inuktut. After all, this is what Nunavut was supposed to be about. With our territorial government fighting the lawsuit claiming Inuit have no language rights to claim. Which is so absurd, bonkers in fact! It is so unfortunate and sad it has come to this, and families are torn on different ‘sides’. Again, the system leads us to this.

As disheartening as it is, it is not too late though.

Purpose of Education…

What is an education for? How would we create confident, capable Inuit children and youth? Thinking in their mother language, and applying that worldview in their part of the world and wherever they choose to go in the world.  I am still hopeful, Inuit will take hold of the education system one way or another. Perhaps in small pockets here and there at first. The continued centralizing and maintaining prioritizing western systems and ways will eventually be seen as damaging, and the reason so many of our young people struggle. It literally kills or dims our spirit and displaces our identity as Inuit. Reclamation will not be easy, as we will be on uncharted territory trying out how it works. It is so important we trust ourselves to do it. Lateral violence and acculturationists in the system will continue to be the biggest barriers, but we must arm ourselves in numbers and collectivity. We must do this for the love of our children and ourselves.

I’ve struggled with the concept of a right or rights in a legal context. I think because historically Indigenous people have been granted rights by the colonizing state. As if we have no agency or sovereignty pre-existing before Europeans arrived.

In law school we had an Anishnaabe Professor, John Borrows who said rights were both what one is entitled to but also responsibility for, so it’s a relationship of reciprocity. Even though this idea seemed more familiar, there was still this unresolved internal discomfort over the idea of rights. As it did not answer the question of ‘but where do they come from?’.

The Canadian Constitution recognizes existing rights for Indigenous people – basically what Canada chooses to recognize. Note that it does not say pre-existing. The Canadian Courts have said there are ‘inherent rights’ held by Indigenous people to land, culture, way of life that pre-exist prior to settler colonialism but still limit how these are interpreted.

Even with the adoption of UNDRIP ‘free, prior, informed consent’ assumes a colonial state’s systems are at heart and an Indigenous group is responding to a proposal or approach and not neccessarily defining their own relationship to land, and starting from that basis. It is still a limited notion of sovereignty.

There are examples of Indigenous Nations asserting sovereignty on their own terms. They claim and live sovereignty over their own lives. We see the tension in the Wet’suwet’en territory as Canada tries to assert it’s power.

Whereas we have gone on the path of agreeing with Canada on terms of our relationship through the land claim mechanism. So much of it is ‘granted’ rights, and under Canadian laws and systems. Which limits assertion of sovereignty over our own lives. Because someone else is still defining what our land is for i.e. it’s for exploiting, and how to live our lives around the economy that is defined for us. When Inuit are a hunting society.

All our laws and systems, our language revolve around a hunting way of life. How then do we express ‘rights’ in this context, where we claim sovereignty over our own lives according to our worldview? Without getting stuck in how we have been cornered in how to think about it?

I think of it as a psychological process of claiming space(s). This is our land, we have a right to define our lives, relationships, recover from colonialism and make livelihoods. Once we get to this psychological space of claiming space, it is a lot easier to think about rights on our terms. It lives within us!

Imagine the possibilities once you claim your own space in your head?!

I’ve wanted to go to Alaska ever since I’ve been aware of the place and aware of my Inuitness. Last June I was finally given an opportunity to visit Qikiqtaġruk/Kotzebue. I was so excited and could not believe it was actually happening. The gathering was something my friend Dalee Sambo-Dorough and I had spoken about: getting arctic peoples together to talk about our vision (for us and our people), without the constraints and limitations of colonial institutions. Dalee made it happen, with the help of our friend Anne Henshaw.

The gathering had an amazing group of people who work and think about decolonization and reclamation in various forms. Our hosts were so welcoming and awesome (thank you Corina & Lance Kramer and Lucy Boyd – my heart thanks you for life)!

The setting could not have been better. The discussions were heartfelt and honest, productive in the sense they felt hopeful. This is so important as we live with so much despair in our lives and communities with so many demoralizing barriers to do anything about our conditions.

The highlight was that we got to go on a land trip where we collected eggs of various birds. There were birds I had never heard of. Walking long distances to harvest in peace and serenity, and finding eggs was so rewarding.

We also had a country food night, where we ate very familiar foods. Our food! But also some new ones for us, new to me because they were more plant based of things we may not have in our area. The focus on garden of the sea of ugruk/ujjuk, maktaaq, fish, felt like home!

The abundance of wildlife and the beauty of the landscape made me wonder why Inuit of East of Alaska would have left there. It’s a stunning place with lots of wildlife.

During our visits, tour and conversations we heard stories about how Inuit from the region would gather in Qikiqtaġruk. There would be conflicts and fights. There were boundary marks for different groups, shelters with secret exits and tunnels. Another statement from a story stood out: that children were raised to be warriors. The person (Lance Kramer) asked why is it that we were raised as warriors that we allow colonial forces to rule. The question I’ve asked myself is, why can’t our goodness and kindness win against these forces. We are such good people, it seems to our own detriment at times.

The stories of conflict and fighting made me think we are a Tuniit mix in this region. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

Not that we’ve never had conflict. We certainly have, hence stories like Atanarjuaq; stories in places like Arctic Bay area of warring long time ago; Story of Qillarjuaq, and others. However, most of our stories and teachings are avoiding conflict, dealing immediately with conflict and aiming to live in harmony.

If you look online the story about Kunuk the Orphan (here https://www.degruyter.com/document/doi/10.1515/9780773594593-toc/pdf ) collected in Greenland, clearly a story based in Alaska, it is about conflict. It explains in the introduction it is not clear whether the fights described were against other group of Inuit or allait/different peoples.

That was the other realization, how Greenlanders are more direct descendants of Alaskan Inuit than us, linguistically, but also the stories and clothing. I’ve known this in conversation with linguistic friends, it just became more apparent while in Alaska with Inuit from Greenland and Canada.

Yes, striving for unity and harmony is true for all Inuit regions. But hearing about raising children to be war ready, types and frequency of warring and conflict made me think about the timid and conflict avoidant Tuniit. That we’ve adopted these traits, because we are them?! Tuniit were also known to be small and very strong.

It is not just our social traits that seem to strongly suggest we are Tuniit. Linguistically speaking, as said Kalaliit are closer to Alaskan Inuit in terminology (not sure about structure). It may be due to our language evolution but maybe also Tuniit influence. As my linguist friend Katti Frederichsen says the further away from source of origin, the more a language evolves. So the closeness between Alaskan and Greenland dialects may be due to proximity in time of contact, but also influence by another group such as Tuniit.

There is more, look at our clothing especially kamiit, qulittat, pualuit and amautiit – our clothing is so different from Alaskans. I had thought in the past that it may be due to Inuit bordering allait, and the influence of that in clothing that their clothes more resemble them. It may be that too. It makes me wonder about evolution of our stories, how close our stories and myths are between the regions and how many distinct stories we may have in this region (if any).

But Tuniit are Inuit. Just an earlier wave of Inuit migrating east. So they would not have been as strangers to Inuit as allait for example. There would be shared traits, including language, tools, hunting methods, worldview. The thinking about Tuniit also made me more curious about our stories of them. And of course, relying less on western theories about our people. We know us, it’s in our stories.

Anirnira, tarnira ~ My soul, I breathe

Inuuvunga ~ I am alive, a being

Tusaqpagit ~ I hear you

Inuuvunga ~ I am alive, a being

Ikpigivagit ~ I feel you

Inuuvunga ~ I am alive, a being

Tukisivagit ~ I understand you

Inuuvunga ~ I am alive, a being

Kanngunaqtut anivut ~ shame is dispelled

Inuuvunga ~ I am alive, a being

Tarnira qaummakpuq ~ my soul illuminates

Inuuvunga ~ I am alive, a being

Uummatiga tatappuq ~ My heart is full

Inuuvunga ~ I am alive, a being

Ikpigusuutikka ipiksivut ~ My senses are sharpened

Inuuvunga ~ I am alive, a being

Naglingniq saqqippuq ~ love surfaces

Inuuvugut ~ We are alive, we are beings