Posted on February 10, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Me and Makusi

 

I read somewhere that this quote is attributable to the Inuit – “A long time ago in the future.”

It’s impossible to go to any foreign country and unravel the mysteries of history and culture in a few months. At least that’s what I think. Canada’s north is a mystery to most Canadians. It is not a foreign country. Many of us have read about the north, heard aboriginal/indigenous speakers, and have watched movies and documentaries about the north. I can tell you, that until you’ve come here and experienced it firsthand, you can’t truly appreciate this precious Canadian jewel.

I’m into my fourth month in Northern Quebec. I have eaten raw beluga and caribou stew. I have made seal rib stew. I have met some extraordinary people. I have seen the Northern Lights. But I have barely scratched the surface in terms of understanding the north.

Last Friday, I got a glimpse.

A few classes in the school, including mine, were invited to go on a seal hunt. In parts of the south and in many parts of the world, the mere words “seal hunt” conjure up images, many of them negative. In the arctic, hunting is a way of life. It is not a sport.

The services of several experienced hunters and guides were enlisted to take staff and students out on this expedition. The conditions were ideal. It was sunny and cold but not windy. Each guide was driving a skidoo, pulling a sled behind it. Because I was considered an “elder”, I got to sit on a comfortable seat with a back rest, behind my driver, Makusi.

In order to get to the open waters of Ungava Bay, it is necessary to cross a chain of lakes separated by tundra. To suggest that the surface of these lakes is bumpy is an understatement. The hunters have managed to carve a path across the uneven terrain. If I had been forced to sit in the sled at the back, I am certain that I would have ended up in traction at the local clinic.

We stopped halfway to our destination so that everyone could get out and stretch. It happened to be next to a big snow- covered hill. Several of the students bounded from their sleds and headed for the hill for an impromptu slide.

Ungava Bay could be seen off in the distance. As we exited the last lake, the guides gathered for a meeting. They couldn’t see any open water where the seals would be found. A few days earlier, there was open water not far from where we were stopped but now this was partially frozen and too dangerous to traverse. A few guides went off alone to check for open water and luckily found a spot not far from where we were situated.

One of the guides grabbed his unaq (harpoon) and walked carefully and knowingly towards the open water, poking the ground every few feet. He stopped when he found the spot where it would be safe enough to stand without going through the ice. While he was doing this, the other guides were setting up lean-to’s and tents so that there would be shelter for anyone who might get cold.

A few of the hunters grabbed their rifles and walked towards the water. A few shots rang out indicating that there were seals in the bay. Gradually, the rest of the entourage was able to join the hunters. We watched as the guides patiently surveyed the bay, peering into a bright afternoon sun. Shots were fired but, on this day, the seals proved to be elusive. In fairness, the hunters were several hundred yards away from their intended targets.

While the hunt was going on, the students and staff had lunch. Some of the young people played soccer on the frozen ice while several hiked up a nearby mountain.

At one point, I was the only person standing beside one of the hunters. Everyone else was off doing their own thing. It was very tranquil. We hadn’t spotted a seal in some time. He told me that all the noise had probably spooked the seals. Normally, the hunters stand in perfect silence.

As the sun made its way across the sky, the colors of land, sea, and mountains seemed to change almost imperceptibly. There wasn’t a breath of air. I was experiencing the north at its finest and felt this immense attraction to the land.

Most of us wonder from time to time, when we are going to die, where we are going to die and how we are going to die. This is not morbid fascination. It is human nature.

I knew we were probably less than an hour away from departing for home. I turned to Makusi and told him that I wanted to walk across Ungava Bay alone and have him pick me up on his way. He smiled and handed me the unaq. “Take this. You might need it.”

I started walking towards home along the skidoo path, clutching the unaq. Honestly, I wasn’t afraid of confronting a polar bear, as bizarre as that sounds, but I was certainly vigilant. Every once in a while, I would hold the unaq in a defensive stance wondering how my last day on the planet might unfold!

Mostly, I felt intense peace.

A long time ago in the future, I walked across Ungava Bay.

Alone.

Have a great week.

Posted on February 3, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

 

 

 

 

Paul Zizka. World class photographer and new friend

 

I have been called many things, some of them not fit for print.

These days, old, bald, irascible and impatient are all worthy monikers. When you’re closing in on 70 you rarely hear adjectives like spry, serene or sensitive. It comes with the turf, or in my case these days, it comes with the tundra.

A friend who lives in Scotland gave me a new handle the other day: ethnographer. I must admit I had to go scrambling to the dictionary. So, bear with me as I give you the definition. Ethnography is a research method that comes from the discipline of anthropology. Ethnography is the in-depth study of a culture or a facet of a culture. An ethnographer not only observes the phenomenon under study, but also becomes a participant in daily life.

I much prefer ethnographer to curmudgeon… or arsehole!

I guess my six- month travels in India, in some small measure, qualifies me as an ethnographer and this latest stint up north adds to my resume.

Of course, travel is all about the people you meet. Yes, the world had spectacular things to see but listening to the stories of people you meet from far flung places is what gets my juices going.

I knew when I came to Northern Quebec, I would meet some amazing people and, on this score, I haven’t been disappointed. I’m just scratching the surface but I’m starting to get to know a few of the elders in this beautiful Inuit community of Kangiqsujuaq.
What I didn’t expect was to meet some famous Canadians like Clara Hughes and Jordin Tootoo.

Last week, I received a message from my son who mentioned that a famous photographer was up in my neck of the woods. Paul Zizka is no ordinary photographer. He is a friend and colleague of my extraordinarily talented nephew, Dave Brosha. https://zizka.ca/

According to Dave, “Paul Zizka is not only one of Canada, but the planet’s best astro photographers. But to call him only a night photographer would be to diminish the fact that that he’s a world class educator and landscape photographer. He is exceptionally skilled at wildlife photography, and, most importantly, one of the nicest and kindest humans out there that you could ever hope to come across. He’s the real deal and I’m proud to call him one of my best friends.”

Dave was able to connect with me with Paul and I sat down with him for an hour before school one day last week. A Quebec native, he completed his undergraduate degree in geology at UVIC and then went off to Iceland where he did a solo 1400 kilometer walk back and forth across the country. This kind of makes my Camino walk seem like a Sunday stroll. He has travelled to all seven continents. He is married and lives in Banff with his wife and two daughters, when he’s not globetrotting.

With his vast experience and travels to some of the remotest places on the planet, I was curious to know what Paul has gleaned about the place we call earth. He feels that people have lost touch with the most precious resource we have – the land. More and more of the world is becoming urbanized which keeps people away from the land. One of his greatest joys is when he takes clients out on the land as part of a workshop. Stressed out executives and Type A people start to breathe and relax once they get out of the rat race and experience the wonder and serenity that only nature can provide.

The more I thought about this encounter, it made sense that I met Paul in Kangiqsujuaq and not Montreal or Vancouver. As Dave said, he’s a great guy and I felt very honored to spend time with this exceptional Canadian.

I met with a parent last week after school to discuss the progress of his child. When the meeting ended, I had a chance to talk to him about other things, specifically his Montreal Canadiens toque. We had a spirited conversation about Les Habitants. His only regret is that he never got to see a game at the old Forum in Montreal. He’s going to take me fishing one of these days.

I am happy, and quite lucky, to be called an ethnographer.

It beats some of the alternatives!!!

Have a great week.

 

Posted on January 27, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

A splendid Saturday in Kangiqsujuaq

 

It seems like every week is eventful up in the north. No two weeks are remotely (!) similar except for consistently cold temperatures. There isn’t the fascination with weather here the way there is back home. Weather in not fodder for the media to spin every day. You never hear dire warnings about the “storm of the century” or weather bombs. It’s winter. Plain and simple. Cold, sunny days. So far, we haven’t had much snow. It looks like Mother Nature decided to give our share to St. John’s Newfoundland.

The focal point of last week was the visit of two accomplished athletes. Jordin Tootoo is the first Inuit to play hockey in the NHL. Clara Hughes is easily Canada’s greatest Olympian and the only athlete from any country to win multiple medals in both Summer (cycling) and Winter (speedskating) Olympic Games. There was a presentation (mainly by Jordin) at the school. Hundreds of people from the community came together with our students to hear about Jordin’s remarkable journey from Rankin Inlet, Nunavut to Nashville.

Jordin spoke at length about the challenges of growing up in the north – substance abuse (he is a recovering alcoholic) and suicide (his brother, Terrence committed suicide). He also spoke of resilience, something indigenous people are known to possess in abundance. He talked  about his strong attachment to the land, something that has helped him in his recovery.

Even though Jordin’s talk was quite heavy, there were moments of levity as well. He claims that he was the first Inuk to score a goal in an igloo. Actually, it was The Igloo, the former home of the Pittsburgh Penguins. Jordin scored a goal on none other than Marc- Andre Fleury.

I had a chance to have two brief chats with Clara Hughes, once at the presentation and the other at the opening of a new family wellness center later that day. She has been a strong voice for mental health in Canada. I asked her what she was up to these days. She spends a lot of time hiking in the mountains in Canmore, Alberta. She told me she hiked 6,000 kilometers last year. If my calculator is working properly, that’s an average of 16 kilometers a day… every day of the year. I guess if you’re one of the greatest Olympians of all time, pushing yourself is just normal.

In one of my first posts upon arriving in Kangiqsujuaq I mentioned that school is only closed when the furnace breaks or when there’s a polar bear sighting. Last week, we had both within a 24- hour time span. Last Thursday afternoon, a polar bear was spotted on Wakem Bay which is quite close to the school. A local hunter went out and killed the bear as it posed a threat to the community. The meat was shared. Apparently, it is quite fatty but delicious. I suspect that if I was eaten by a polar bear, he would say the same thing!

On Friday afternoon, as I was preparing for my last class of the week, an announcement came over the PA system that the school was being closed immediately because the furnace had conked out. A year ago, in Montreal, 35 students and 8 adults were hospitalized due to a faulty heating system. I have never seen a school empty so quickly. I wondered if it was the threat of carbon monoxide or the fact that it was Friday afternoon. I suspect it was a little bit of both.

In truth, school has been cancelled a few times because of weather when there were blizzard conditions and extremely cold temperatures (near -50).

Last week, I was interviewed for a podcast. Mise, a young man from Montreal working for Y4Y Quebec, a voice for youth in the province, was in the village working with a young Inuk man, Nigel Adams. Nigel is quickly gaining a reputation across Canada’s north as a new voice for indigenous youth. His brother, Robert, was murdered a few years ago and he has seen northern villages suffer the scourges of substance abuse, family violence and suicide. These two young men are trying to arrange a youth forum in Kangiqsujuaq in March. They were interested in getting some perspectives from local people and from individuals from the south. Nigel has strongly held views on colonialism and residential schools which is not surprising. It was a fascinating exchange of ideas. I agreed to work with them on the forum suggesting I could offer a music component to the event. (I am currently teaching three of my students how to play guitar).

Have a great week.

P.S. Some of you oldtimers will remember Tommy Hunter. He used to sign off his television show with the following – “We’ll see you next week, the good Lord willin.” Well, the “good Lord willin”, I have decided to tackle a second year of teaching in Kangiqsujuaq. Our principal has asked us for our intentions for the next school year. There are still many days when I have serious doubts about whether I can do this work. The mental toughness of people like Jordin Tootoo, Clara Hughes and Nigel Adams inspires me.