Posted on December 7, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

Rabbit fur. The raw material for a pair of pualuk mittens

 

This is certain to be a Christmas like no other for most of us. Most but not all. There is a segment of the population who don’t experience the joy of Christmas because of circumstances. Regrettably, this will be just another Christmas.

I have been asked by many of my faithful readers if there was something they could do for my students or my school. The short answer is yes.

I have decided to spearhead a project to supply Christmas dinners to families who might not otherwise have one. This initiative has received the blessings of the community. Many of my colleagues from the south aren’t going home for Christmas because of the myriad of restrictions. They have agreed to help me prepare and deliver meals on or around Christmas day.

We estimate that providing these meals will cost approximately $3,000 and I am inviting my readers to make a small contribution to this effort. Many people are stretched at this time of the year and have already made commitments to various charitable causes in their home communities which I applaud. Organizations in my home town like the Fuel Fund and St.Vincent de Paul need your support.

If any of you would like to contribute, there are three ways to do this: 1) You can send me an e-transfer at lenpdmacdonald@gmail.com. 2) You can mail me a cheque at Len MacDonald C/O Arsaniq School, C.P. 160, Kangiqsujuaq, Quebec, J0M 1K0 3) If you live in Antigonish, drop into the Bergengren Credit Union. I have an account set up there in my name called Christmas Dinner Fund. Should we happen to exceed our target, any excess funds will go to The Family House which is a safe house in the village for families experiencing challenges.

To keep you informed and to have a bit of fun, I have been urged to humiliate myself and post a picture of myself during the “12 Days of Len” leading up to Christmas. I could be wearing a dress or a tank top – neither of these is visually appealing. If you have an idea for a pose, send it along.

Thank you for considering this request. Even though we have all been encouraged to stay apart, a project like this will bring people together.

What else?

Will Cubii’s be a must have gift this Christmas or possibly Dr.Ho’s magic pain reliever? Surely you have seen the ads that will help you lose wait and ease your pain, all the while lightening your wallet. I can see these piled up in your basement in a year or two along with thousands of treadmills, Bowflex machines, and Stair Masters. As far as I can tell, the only good use for a treadmill is a place to hang wet laundry when your dryer is on the fritz.

My favourite DVD movie this week? Woman in Gold. This is a fabulous movie about art that was stolen from Jewish families in Vienna during WW11. Helen Mirren and Ryan Reynolds are exceptional.

Every Sunday, a group of women meet in our staff room to sew. Even though the table is rectangular I will still call it a sewing circle! A few Inuit women teach people how to sew gloves, parkas and other clothing. I have poked my head in a few times just to say hello when I have been at the school planning or using the internet. They have been asking me to join them. So yesterday, I took the plunge.

The day before, I went to the Coop and purchased two rabbit pelts which will form the outer layer for a pair of pualuk gloves. I will spare you the boring details of day 1 but I only managed to prick my finger with the sewing needle about 6 times. Jessica is my teacher and she is an incredible woman who is well known and well respected in the community. I was joined by 8 of my colleagues who are in different stages of making gloves and parkas. After cutting the rabbit pelts into shape with an ulu (I asked Jessica to do this as an ulu is very sharp and I value all of my 10 fingers). I cut out the leather for the thumbs with a pair of scissors and then the sewing began. Getting started with anything new is always the hardest part.

Of course, the best part for me was listening to the banter around the room. I had the honor of sitting next to Jessica and hearing about her life growing up in an igloo. This is such an amazing opportunity and one I do not take for granted.

I left the room but returned shortly thereafter to get my keys which I had left behind. The women were all chuckling. One of them had commented that the room was much quieter after I left!

Have a great week and be safe.

 

Posted on December 3, 2020 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

Thanks for the mask, SC. Looks like I’m about to have twins!

 

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year”.

It’s hard to escape the fact that three weeks from today is Christmas Eve. The bad news for me is that I won’t get to spend it with my family. I can’t go to Antigonish or Halifax. I can’t go to Montreal. I can’t go to Victoria and I can’t go to Mexico. Yes. I received an invitation to go and lie on a beach for two weeks and bask in the warmth of the sun, but I have chosen short, dark, cold days in the Arctic. “Etes-vous fou, Len?”

The good news is that I am quite handy to Santa’s Workshop. And while I can’t be with old friends, I will be surrounded by the many new friends that I have made in the community that I now call home. Most of my colleagues from the south have opted to stay here. Those who are traveling will be with family in safe places. We are already planning some events along with those that will be hosted by the community, albeit scaled back drastically because of Covid.

If you can’t be somewhere warm at least you can dream about it. I plan to host two evenings during the holidays. I will share images and stories from India and also from my Camino walk in Spain. We will have  potlucks for certain and I plan to organize some caroling for shut-ins and elders in the village. I suppose singing in front of a mirror would achieve similar results!

One of my granddaughters has organized a “secret Santa” for the family. Gifts will be exchanged via mail and on Christmas morning we will have a Zoom call where we’ll open our present from a secret family member. My gift arrived a few days ago. I sent mine last week. The recipient will likely be able to tell the identity of their secret Santa. I can’t imagine he/she will receive many parcels from Kangiqsujuaq.

Ok. I got all the warm fuzzy stuff out of the way.

Well, well, well. Hell, hell, hell. Bell, Bell, Bell.

I plan to open an ad agency and will specialize in tag lines for businesses. I have already chosen one for Bell. “The gift that keeps on giving”. Yeah, I know that that’s not original. I have been told by reliable sources (Wikipedia) that the Victor Talking Machine Company used this slogan to sell its products which included phonographs and records in the 1920s… one hundred years ago. But the slogan is ageless as it turns out. You see, this is the fifth time that I have been able to carve out a few hundred words in this space compliments of my good friends at Bell.

As mentioned a while back, after several months of trying to pay my bill and the threat of disconnection, Bell took three months of payments twice: once from my chequing account and the other from my credit card. I waited breathlessly for the next billing cycle to see what would happen. I was pleasantly surprised to see a credit balance on my account. However, the credit was not nearly as large as anticipated. In examining my bill, I discovered that Bell had billed me for double the amount of monthly charges from what I was quoted. Luckily, I had written down the date and time of the original call when I set up the contract along with the name of the friendly agent who helped me set up the plan. I also wrote down the exact amount of the monthly charges.

If it had been a minor discrepancy, I might have let it go but an extra $50 a month for a Scot, I felt it was worth pursuing.

Early this week after school, I took the plunge and called Bell. The menu options were clear and after waiting patiently for several minutes, I was connected to the billing department. In great detail I made my case while the charming Customer Service Representative (CSR) listened intently. When my harangue ended, she politely told me that this wasn’t her department and that she would connect me with a “specialist”. I was put on hold. Just for fun (if you’re masochistic) call Bell and listen to their muzak in the background while you’re waiting to speak with a human. It is enough to incite a riot.

I waited for a long time.

I stated my case once again to a nice young man. I came up for air after about five minutes. “I’m sorry but you’ll have to speak to my supervisor.” Does anyone know the precise tipping point between frustration and rage? This might make an excellent psychology project.

I’m only joking of course. Sort of.  I am not prone to rage, but thoughts of violence often cross my mind when I’m dealing with incompetence on a grand scale.

I was put on hold for another 20 minutes. “Hi. My name is Jay. How may I help you?” My head went into overdrive. I wondered if this was Jay Traynor of the musical group, Jay and the Americans. I started humming, “This Magic Moment”’ one of their hits from 1969. I was praying for a bit of magic. For the third time, I registered my concern about the overbilling. “Can I put you on hold for a few minutes?’ It was now suppertime. I had a gnawing hunger and a minor headache. I told Jay that I had to be in school by 8:30 the following day. Of course I didn’t say that but I was thinking it!

Jay came back on the line and admitted that a mistake had indeed been made and that it would take some time to do some calculations. I turn 70 next August. It would be a welcome birthday gift to hear that the matter has been resolved. Stay tuned.

I used to like Kurt Browning, the decorated figure skater until he started to shill for CHIP reverse mortgages. I don’t watch a lot of television, but it seems that every time I turn it on, there’s Kurt in his dorky hat expounding the virtues of taking equity from your home. It’s not that I don’t like Kurt but when he pirouettes at the end of the ad for the 5000^th time, I feel like doing a Tonya Harding on him. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, just Google Tonya. Man, these companies must think we are a bunch of stooges to listen to the same tripe incessantly.

Ah. That feels better.  There’s nothing so cleansing as a good rant.

The Christmas spirit has returned.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas”.

Silver “Bells” anyone?

Have a great weekend.

Posted on November 30, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

Jennifer Qupanuaq May #E8-2571

 

For most Canadians, having a Social Insurance Number (S.I.N.) is a birthright. If you want to work anywhere in the country, it is a requirement. Not only does it give Canadians access to a variety of social and medical programs, but it also gives us the privilege (!) of paying taxes. Many people grumble about paying taxes. I am not one of them. I realize that there is a cost to run government programs and taxation by and large funds these activities.

Not all Canadians have been treated the same. The story of our indigenous people is still being written and there are many chapters that tell a story which many Canadians find shameful. I have already written several articles about colonialism, forced relocations, residential schools and the killing of the sled dogs. Today I want to focus on “Eskimo Identification tags”, another example of questionable treatment of our founding people.

One could argue that the Federal Government had good intentions when they started to issue these tags in 1941. They began requiring Inuit to wear tags stamped with unique identification numbers. The Inuit word for the system was ujamiit. In English, the tags themselves, leather coin-sized disks, read “Eskimo Identification Canada”. The perceived need of the program arose from the inability of white people (Qallunaat), including Christian missionaries, government officials and the RCMP, to understand, pronounce and spell Inuit names.

The Canadian government issued the ID tags stamped with unique codes, starting with a region code and then an individual ID number, and instructed the recipients that they were to keep the disks on their person at all times. The numbers were also used in official government correspondence instead of names.

I certainly don’t pretend for a nanosecond to have the knowledge or expertise to explain how important names are to Inuit people. They carry many names reflecting family, ancestry and community.

Meet Jennifer Qupanuaq May, number E8-2571. She was born in 1982, one of the last Inuks to ever receive an E-number.

Jennifer is a 38 year- old Inuk woman, a single mother of three young children, originally from Kuujuuaq, now residing in Pointe- Claire, Quebec. She is an associate producer for a radio show and online marketing assistant for a film production company. She is a media arts student at John Abbott College. She is also involved in a mentoring program in the Inuit arts.

From all accounts, she is a remarkable woman. In 2017, she suffered a devastating injury which left her paralyzed. She was told that she might never walk again. With great faith and determination and a lot of rehabilitation, she was able to walk again. She suffers from chronic pain. Despite these tribulations she considers herself lucky and lives a life of gratitude.

She also has some strong feelings towards the “Eskimo Identification tag” program. “The Canadian government considered the Inuit as “primitive” people who they knew nothing about,” says Jennifer. “It’s getting better, but it’s still misunderstood. We tend to repress that but our social issues stem from this repression; people have PTSD from being sent to residential schools, the sixties scoop, having to wear these tags, and being just a number in their government’s eyes. It has caused our people to question their own existence when we realized these weird symbols, which we know as numbers, represented who we were.”

Initially, some Inuit regarded the Identification system as a positive. “We saw it as a new way of life, that something the government was “doing for us Inuit” at the time. Only after the passage of time, we started to recognize it as Government colonialism, just like killing of dogs, Residential Schools, Forceful Removal and Forceful relocations.” These comments were passed along to me by an Inuit friend who is now in his 70s.

Young Inuit children should feel grateful for people like Jennifer Qupanuaq who benefit by her mentorship. Life has not been easy for Jeniifer but her positive attitude can do nothing but help Inuit youth.

Education remains our best hope in understanding Indigenous people who have occupied these lands for over 4,000 years.

It’s just a number but numbers mean something.

Have a great week.