Ilatsiak - 18

Ilatsiak continued to fascinate Patsy, the young clerk and even while he was employed in the cold, dark warehouse of his father’s trading post, his mind would creep back to the old man. A few days after the remarkable performance he had given, Patsy had a chance to ask Ilatsiak how a person became a shaman. Was it the same for everyone, or did one have to be chosen? How had he become so knowledgeable in these crafts?
At first Ilatsiak was quiet. Patsy knew this was not a topic one usually went into. It was even rude to have brought it up, but Patsy’s curiousity got the better of him and he figured the old man would just assume that non-Inuit people were just rude by their very nature and there wasn’t much one could do about it. However Ilatsiak was thinking more about how he might tell his story without appearing to be impolite himself. He knew it was rude to boast that one had special gifts or powers which others did not have. So before he finally told Patsy his story, Ilatsiak gave out a long explanation about how useless he was, how he knew nothing really, and how Patsy was surely wasting his time with his visit and his questions. He claimed it was nothing special and probably other people had better claims to having the knowledge to be shaman than he did.
During the second or maybe it was the third summer after he nearly died from being sick - he couldn’t remember anymore, but he was still living with his father, old Akayuk - he went fishing all alone on one of the small streams which flowed from the center of Kikertak. Ilatsiak remembered being intrigued with the way fish could be caught using a 'kugivuq', the two-pronged harpoon which held the fish on two sides while the center barb impailed it. Made of springy caribou antler material carefully carved to shape and laced onto the shaft, it was a very effective fish catching tool, but it required a certain amount of skill, something he didn’t have at that time.
Ilatsiak explained how as he was intently watching the fish swim up to the stone weir where they could be speared, he slowly realised he was being watched. Assumming it was one of the local people come to watch his ineptitude, he paid no attention and continued to practice his skill at fish spearing. When he heard a noise he didn’t recognize he turned and what seemed to be a spirit-like creature appeared to him. Taken by surprise, Ilatsiak let out a yell and turned to run, nearly falling on the slippery rocks which made up the ancient weir. As he regained his balance, he stopped, nearly falling a second time. The spirit seemed to be accompanied by other spirits, but Ilatsiak could not clearly see these others. He was very much afraid of them, and when they approached he asked if he was going to die. The spirit, apparently a youngish man about his own age, said no. He went on to tell Ilatsiak that he would live to be an old man, in fact, saying he would live to be one of the oldest.
The spirit then took the 'kugivuq' from Ilatsiak and with a quick jab at the water, caught a tom-cod for him, a fish not usually found in fresh water. This he swung right up to Ilatsiak’s mouth, spear and all and made him eat it, fresh and cold, still dripping with the water it had come from. Ilatsiak was terrified, but did as he was told. The young spirit person then told him that by eating this fish he had gained special magical powers which only shamen possessed. He was told that these powers would gradually become apparent to him over time as he learned more.
The spirit then went home with him, all the while talking with him, explaining that he had been sent to work together with Ilatisk for the benefit of the Inuit. They would meet often in the years to come, each time giving him various magical words and phrases which would be useful and which could provide the power to do various things like cure illness, find game and so on. He was also warned by the spirit never to eat the intestines of any animal, only meat and fat. When they arrived in camp, the spirit disappeared. Ilatsiak explained however that he had seen this spirit many times over the years although it had now been many years since their last encounter.
As happened so frequently during these visits of Patsy’s, the old man would seem to run out of steam. The words coming from him began to come more and more slowly until finally they stopped altogether. It was as if the old man’s thoughts would slowly drift away, like snow before the ever-blowing wind.
Patsy stared at him hoping there was more, but there didn’t seem to be this time. He was gone again. Funny guy, thought Patsy, so spry and agile for someone his age, his movements usually so vigorous and full of energy, his every move so quick and decided. Sitting there, bolt upright, even in his dream-like state, Patsy thought he appeared calm and dignified. He was certainly much admired by his fellows who treated him as the father figure of them all. Patsy straighten up and looked over at him. Yes, he was shorter than most of the people he had come to Bernard Harbour with. He even looked somewhat grave, especially with his thin, white beard and his slow-moving personality which projected an air of knowing all things, even the unknowable. He was definitely a man whose integrity was beyond question, someone who was never talked about except in awe. He was certainly a shaman, and a powerful one at that.