Ilatsiak - 1
The day was suddenly alive. Millions of tiny air-borne sparkles flashed as each flake of wind-swept snow caught its moment in the sun before drifting out on the sea ice before the camp. Ilatsiak turned and entered the snow-house’s tunnelled entrance. The brightness hurt his eyes. He could no longer look at the glare off the snow and ice of the bay. He was an old, old man, far older than anyone he knew. Each of his wives was gone long ago. His shoulders felt sore as he rolled onto the furs at the back of the snow-house. He shut his eyes. Everything about him needed to rest.
“Kimupsiq!”
Yes, a dog sled was coming!
Way out in the bay, anyone with eyes to see could make out a tiny speck slowly making its way through the ice fields. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch. Soon it would be possible to tell who was coming. Even at this distance, a person’s stance on the sled was recognizable to the small group assembled at the semi-circular array of snow houses along the bay.
Today, however, no one was able to guess who drove the sled, for strangers were coming to the camp. Strangers from the west. As they drove up to within hailing distance, they stopped their dogs and stood up facing the assembled group in front of the houses. For a few moments they both stared at each other, no one anxious to make the first move.
“We are poor hunters, but we will share what we have...” one of the camp men suddenly announced. It was an ice breaker. The two groups, as if suddenly released from some frozen state of mind began to recognize the Inuit-ness of each other as they moved together, shoke hands and began talking freely. Most of the talk revolved around possible mutual family members they might possess or failing that, friends of friends or acquaintences. These ties would establish some social ties along which traditional hospitality could progress smoothly. But, there was other news too, it seemed.
A ship was frozen into the ice to the west. A white man, his Alaskan wife and their family had many interesting and useful things to trade... They wanted fox furs. Why not go and see them? They were in Bernard Harbour to the west, many days of travelling from the small bay in Bathurst Inlet where this camp lay.
Ilatsiak listened quietly, as always from the back of the sleeping platform in the snow house. White men. Ships frozen into the ice. Why did that news trouble him? What was it in his past that always gave him this strange tightness in his chest whenever news of white people and frozen ships came to his people? He was old now, who knows how old, maybe over 90 years old. Certainly too old to worry about white people coming to his country, yet, there was that tightness in him again. Why?. He knew many things, people sought his help and advice, yet to this he could never seem to find an answer even though he had searched his memory many times.
Several days of feasting passed between the two peoples. The visitors had been good hunters indeed. They had much to share, but in typical fashion they had described themselves as the worst hunters in the arctic. It was assumed by everyone that the white trader would be visited, perhaps in a few weeks when the coming Spring would allow for fast sledding. Excitment was building in the camp. When the visitors packed their sleds and left, the emptiness in the camp soon turned into a tense anticipation. Everyone waited for their leader Ilatsiak to give the word that he was leaving. Yet, he delayed and the days passed. Was he too old to travel? What was holding him back? Now that his wife Qajaq had died, he was not the man of action and decisiveness that he had been in the past. The people waited.
About three weeks after the departure of the visitors, Aupaluk, a younger man, his wife and their two young child began getting ready to leave the camp. They slowly loaded their sled, removing everything from their winter dwelling. People watched them and without asking directly what was happening, chatted about this and that. It was clear however, they were leaving to visit the trader. It was March and sledding would not get better than this. As well, the many storms experienced during the past winter, seemed to have abated. Now was the time to go. Once all was loaded, the dogs harnassed, they were off. For the next hour, they could be seen from the camp, but people pretended not to look out to sea in their direction. They had gone that’s all, yet everyone wondered what Ilatsiak would do. Was he going to go or not? Time would tell. People returned to their chores.
Several men took their dogs and walked out on the ice to hunt. They would talk about what to do while they walked. It was time to go. Everyone knew that. Maybe it was time to leave Ilatsiak behind. Yes, that’s what they must do. Still, he was a powerful man with many magic powers, maybe they should wait a few more days and see what he did about Aupaluk and hs family. Will he call them back, or let them go...?
“Kimupsiq!”
Yes, a dog sled was coming!
Way out in the bay, anyone with eyes to see could make out a tiny speck slowly making its way through the ice fields. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch. Soon it would be possible to tell who was coming. Even at this distance, a person’s stance on the sled was recognizable to the small group assembled at the semi-circular array of snow houses along the bay.
Today, however, no one was able to guess who drove the sled, for strangers were coming to the camp. Strangers from the west. As they drove up to within hailing distance, they stopped their dogs and stood up facing the assembled group in front of the houses. For a few moments they both stared at each other, no one anxious to make the first move.
“We are poor hunters, but we will share what we have...” one of the camp men suddenly announced. It was an ice breaker. The two groups, as if suddenly released from some frozen state of mind began to recognize the Inuit-ness of each other as they moved together, shoke hands and began talking freely. Most of the talk revolved around possible mutual family members they might possess or failing that, friends of friends or acquaintences. These ties would establish some social ties along which traditional hospitality could progress smoothly. But, there was other news too, it seemed.
A ship was frozen into the ice to the west. A white man, his Alaskan wife and their family had many interesting and useful things to trade... They wanted fox furs. Why not go and see them? They were in Bernard Harbour to the west, many days of travelling from the small bay in Bathurst Inlet where this camp lay.
Ilatsiak listened quietly, as always from the back of the sleeping platform in the snow house. White men. Ships frozen into the ice. Why did that news trouble him? What was it in his past that always gave him this strange tightness in his chest whenever news of white people and frozen ships came to his people? He was old now, who knows how old, maybe over 90 years old. Certainly too old to worry about white people coming to his country, yet, there was that tightness in him again. Why?. He knew many things, people sought his help and advice, yet to this he could never seem to find an answer even though he had searched his memory many times.
Several days of feasting passed between the two peoples. The visitors had been good hunters indeed. They had much to share, but in typical fashion they had described themselves as the worst hunters in the arctic. It was assumed by everyone that the white trader would be visited, perhaps in a few weeks when the coming Spring would allow for fast sledding. Excitment was building in the camp. When the visitors packed their sleds and left, the emptiness in the camp soon turned into a tense anticipation. Everyone waited for their leader Ilatsiak to give the word that he was leaving. Yet, he delayed and the days passed. Was he too old to travel? What was holding him back? Now that his wife Qajaq had died, he was not the man of action and decisiveness that he had been in the past. The people waited.
About three weeks after the departure of the visitors, Aupaluk, a younger man, his wife and their two young child began getting ready to leave the camp. They slowly loaded their sled, removing everything from their winter dwelling. People watched them and without asking directly what was happening, chatted about this and that. It was clear however, they were leaving to visit the trader. It was March and sledding would not get better than this. As well, the many storms experienced during the past winter, seemed to have abated. Now was the time to go. Once all was loaded, the dogs harnassed, they were off. For the next hour, they could be seen from the camp, but people pretended not to look out to sea in their direction. They had gone that’s all, yet everyone wondered what Ilatsiak would do. Was he going to go or not? Time would tell. People returned to their chores.
Several men took their dogs and walked out on the ice to hunt. They would talk about what to do while they walked. It was time to go. Everyone knew that. Maybe it was time to leave Ilatsiak behind. Yes, that’s what they must do. Still, he was a powerful man with many magic powers, maybe they should wait a few more days and see what he did about Aupaluk and hs family. Will he call them back, or let them go...?
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posted by Michael | 8:46 AM
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