Illatsiak - 70 - Old Names

He tried to busy himself with his wife’s assortment of stretched seal skins, moving them to better catch the drying rays of the spring sunshine. He turned some caribou meat, also sun drying, as it hung over a stretched out seal skin line. Then he turned his attention to some slabs of seal blubber, moving them away from a couple of poles, the two wooden snow shovels, one still having parts of the wood painted in a pale yellow colour. Rotting seal blubber would stick to anything, he’d better get it out of the way before someone stepped into it... David watched his father doing chores usually reserved for his mother. “He is upset.” he thought to himself.”I have never seen him doing things like this...”
In spite of his outward showing of unconcern, inside, Agayuq was worried about the sudden arrival of these white people. He kept thinking of how they had suddenly appeared from the northeast with dog sleds and lots of equipment. It bothered him how they had stayed around most of the morning and then continued on to the south towards Back’s Fish River to the land of the Utku’miut where his son David was living with Qajaq’s family. The strangers didn’t speak the language of the people very well. It had been hard to understand them, but it was clear that their questions were all about where the ships were, how could they get to see them and what had happened to the shipmen. Agayuq had been so afraid of them, he had told them nothing except that the ships had sunk long ago, maybe eight or ten years ago. Finally he pretended not to understand the words of the Inuk translator who told him what they wanted. Agayuq didn’t want to admit to them that all the men must have died because most of them were never seen again after that awful summer when people had encountered them walking along the south coast. He knew the stories about how upset the white man who had come from Repulse Bay had been when he was told the stories of the camps of the starving ship men. He knew there had been at least three of these camps and, in some of them, men had eated the ones who died. The Inuit had found pots of cut up legs. Although there were similar tales of such things among his own people, it was so awful to think about, especially when his son could have been one of them had he not come to live with them. It was not something people talked about anymore.
Finally he turned and headed back into the snow house. The family would leave this camp and return further east to where his relatives would be spending the late winter and spring. It would be better there in the company of real people who didn’t always ask so many nosy questions about a time best forgotten.
“All those men from the ships died...” remarked his son seeing his father back on the sleeping bench.
“Yes, they all died...all of them. There are no more of them.” Agayuq, changed the subject seemingly relieved him and he began to tease his wife about what a fine cook she was. David knew what was coming next. He motioned to his daughter to follow him as he pulled on his boots and crawled out the doorway. Once outside, he stood up, peering to the south, wondering what those men might be doing. His father had been acting so strangely since he had arrived on a rare visit to go spring hunting. Had the strange men been dangerous? It was so unlike him to act this way. Maybe Agayuq is getting old and is worried about things too much. Hunting will cheer him up. It always did. Taking his daughter’s hand, he pushed her into their newly built snow house entrance ahead of him. He followed her into the snowhouse he and Qayak had built only a few yards further along the glistening snowdrift. When they had arrived the day before, he had not anticipated his father’s stories. He would tell Qayak. She would have something to say about the visit of the white men. She always had good advice, and would straighten things out.
“My father says white people have come,” David whispered to Qayaq later than evening as they sipped the hot seal gravy she had prepared.
“I know, “ Qajaq answered. “Your mother told me yesterday about them. Everyone was afraid, but they have gone. Strange they would come to our land. Why are they coming here when they don’t like it here?”
After pausing a moment in thought, David looked up at Qayaq, “I don’t know.
"Did you ever know your grandfather, your father’s father?”
“My grandfather? No. I was too young. Why?” David was curious where this was leading.
“You have his name. He was a brave man who knew white people. Your mother told me that when the white people came, she thought they were looking for him because he had learned to talk with white people who had come a long time ago. She was afraid they would want to take you with them because you have the same name.”
"He had my name?"
"Yes. The name people call you when you're not around: Ilatsiak..."
"I don't understand. Why am I called that? I am David. Everyone knows that..." David was genuinely puzzled by Qayaq's strange remark. He had another name?
"Yes, but don't tell anyone. I shouldn't have told you that. Forget it..." Qayaq was embarrassed to have openly mentioned this secret name. It wasn't normally done.
“We should not speak of the old ones. I will go hunting with Agayuq tomorrow if the wind calms.” The questions and explanations ended there, which relieved Qayaq immensely. She knew she had gone too far.