Posted on June 3, 2021 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

Residential School – Chesterfield Inlet

(Posted with permission)

 

If you were looking for some light humour today, check out the comics or Colbert. You won’t find any in this post.

Unlucky numbers.

The obvious one is 13. When Friday the 13^th rolls around, ominous things are supposed to happen. Many hotels don’t have a 13^th floor. The list goes on.

I would like to add another unlucky number: 215.

Two hundred and fifteen, beautiful, innocent children were tossed unceremoniously into a mass grave in Kamloops. They were ripped from their parents’ arms and forced to attend a residential school. This is yet another stain on our country. The wounds left over from this tragic chapter of Canadian history never healed. The scab has been ripped off… again.

Over a year ago, I was introduced to Piita Irniq. Here is a brief bio. Please take time to read about this distinguished Canadian. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/peter-irniq. Among other things, Piita is a survivor of a residential school seen in the picture above. He is a wonderful writer, storyteller, and educator. He regularly posts stories on Facebook, many of them explaining Inuit culture. A few days ago, after hearing about the tragedy, he reposted an older story that he had told before. With Piita’s permission, I am sharing it with you. There are thousands more of these stories.

“I feel, today is the right time to repeat these words, words I said, long time ago, and I said in part:

“I was kidnapped, by a Roman Catholic priest, in broad daylight, right in front of my parents! We were at our summer camp near Naujaat, a tiny settlement on the west coast of Hudson’s Bay, getting ready to walk to inland, for our annual caribou hunt.

It was in 1958, I was 11 years old, and I was to attend Sir Joseph Bernier Federal Day School in Igluligaarjuk – Chesterfield Inlet – for the first time.

Little did my parents or I know that this was the beginning of leaving behind my culture, language, Inuit Spirituality; and the practice of Shamanism for which we used for healing, special relationship among us Inuit, with animals, land, our past and the future. We were to be assimilated into the Qallunaaq world, to think like a European.

The losses we experienced were to be permanent. The impact on all of us – my family, my friends and many of us who are now seen to be leaders of our people – was traumatic. Many of us have spent our lives trying, in many different ways, to bring ‘meaning’ back into lives that were emptied of the ideas, beliefs and relationships that for thousands of years, brought meaning and purpose to Inuit. Some have turned to this modern religion, called Christianity. Others, like me, are convinced that recovering the culture we lost is essential to giving direction not only to ourselves, but also to future generation.”

 

I just returned home from two years in Northern Quebec in an Inuit community. Kangiqsujuaq is one of fourteen villages in the Nunavik region. It is a place of stunning beauty. It is also a place that still shows the scars of the past. I saw it in the weathered lines in the faces of older people in the village. These are people who for centuries lived on the land and lived off the land. They hunted, fished and trapped as a means of survival. Life was not easy but easier, as it turns out, before the arrival of European fur traders, missionaries and residential schools. The collapse of the seal hunt, thanks in part to the heroic efforts of starlets and famous musicians, devastated their economy and a way of life. Add forced relocations and the killing of the sled dogs and you can see why their brows are furrowed.

Lowering flags is an important gesture as is the placing of 215 pairs of shoes at various sites across Canada. Maybe it is time to take some of the passion and energy that we devote to sports and other endeavors, to learn a bit of history.  Maybe you can start by viewing this NFB documentary called “Angry Inuk”. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=85Ns94DWAQ8

 

When you’re finished watching this, listen to some wonderful Inuit musicians, The Jerry Cans. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5neft4S0nr0

 

We have a lot to answer for, especially religious orders who have caused so much harm.

 

I am an angry Qallunaat (white person).

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Posted on May 27, 2021 under Thursday Tidbits with 3 comments

 

Farewell, Kangiqsujuaq

 

“Goodbye, goodbye,

 Think I’ll set my wings for flying,

In the sky, in the sky,

There’s room enough to fly,

So, goodbye.

Goodbye, Again – Ray Materick

 

Well, it’s time for this bird to fly. This will be my final post from Kangiqsujuaq.

There are just too many memories to list but here are a few:

The howling of sled dogs when the village is asleep.

Throat singing.

Inuit babies.

New Year’s Eve fireworks by the mountains and Wakem Bay.

The guys who work at the airport. My friends.

Just Dance in the school gym.

Dog sled races.

Inuit children.

Christmas in Kangiqsujuaq.

Inuit winter games.

Staff Christmas dinner where I ate raw beluga and raw caribou for the first time.

The Christmas dinner that we provided to those who wouldn’t have one.

The epic ice fishing trip.

Riding in a Qamotiq. A mistake!

The seal hunting expedition and walking across Ungava Bay.

Hiking in the mountains in summer and winter.

Inuit teenagers.

Walking the airport loop alone or with colleagues.

Singing with the children at the FM station.

The beauty of the tundra in all seasons.

Taking a stroll in a storm at -57!

Teaching after a 40- year hiatus.

The Inuit staff at the two grocery stores.

My colleagues at work.

Sewing mittens.

Attending the Pentecostal church.

Surviving my first few months in the Arctic.

Weekly phone calls with my brother, Don.

Inuit adults. Inuit staff members.

Teacher’s road.

Covid.

Getting my two vaccine shots.

Skating alone at the arena.

The Qaggiq.

Parent-Teacher night.

The first day at school.

The last day at school.

Inuit elders.

Spotty internet.

Spotty cable.

My adventures getting a phone line with Bell.

Doing music at the summer camp with young children.

Pen pals across Canada for my students. Thanks. You know who you are.

Posting a story from my neighbor’s veranda at 5:00 a.m. in -35 temps.

The sky. Oh, the sky.

The parade through town for our graduates. They sat on top of the fire truck.

Outdoor funerals in the winter.

Learning songs in Inuktitut.

Teaching songs in English.

Recess duty. Holding one end of a skipping rope.

The water and sewage trucks.

Trips to the airport to pick up cargo (groceries).

The nursing station.

Skidoo trip across Wakem Bay.

Learning about Inuit culture.

Zoom calls.

Masks. Hand sanitizer. Social distancing.

Skinamarink. Baby Beluga. Ed The Invisible Dragon. Country Roads.

The Christmas concert (pre-Covid).

In closing, I want to thank the people of Kangiqsujuaq for making me feel welcome and a part

of their community. I have learned a great deal from the Inuit people including patience, perseverance,

and persistence. These are among the kindest and most gentle people on the planet. They are incredibly

talented people who have endured so much hardship.

I will miss them.

Farewell, salut, tavvauvusi.

Nakurmik.

Best wishes and stay well.

Posted on May 20, 2021 under Storytelling, Thursday Tidbits with one comment

 

The Qaggiq

 

Just about every small town or village in Canada has an official or unofficial hub. It is the place where everything of note happens. It is place where people come to gather for a variety of reasons. Legion buildings are popular as well as community centres. Libraries, arenas and senior’s activity centres are also common places for people to meet and greet.

When I was growing up, the Catholic Church owned a property called The Parish Centre. It was only a handful of steps away from the cathedral and the priests’ residence. Everything meaningful in the town happened at the Centre. It was used as the gymnasium for physical education classes for the nearby elementary and high schools. It hosted community dinners, bazaars, wedding receptions, political rallies, legendary basketball games and even boxing matches. I can still see the Cochrane brothers landing punishing blows inside the ring. But fights of the unorganized variety were common too at Saturday night dances. While bands like The Strangers and The Escorts played popular cover tunes, invariably there would be a scuffle or two involving a “townie” and some lads from the farms. Want to read more? I wrote a lengthy piece years ago about the Parish Centre and the Bowling Alleys. https://www.week45.com/those-were-the-days/

In more recent times, the nationally acclaimed People’s Place library in my hometown of Antigonsh is unquestionably the new hub of the town. It is much more than a library, providing a staggering array of services including English as a second language to newcomers to Canada, including many Syrian refugees.

It didn’t take me long to discover the meeting place in Kangiqsujuaq. The Qaggiq ( pronounced Haggick and not to be confused with the Scottish delicacy, haggis!), is located on the main street of the village. I had my first encounter with the Qaggiq shortly after arriving in the village. On my way to my apartment from the airport, I was given a quick tour of the community. I saw the Coop, the arena, the swimming pool, and the school also located on the main drag. Of course, after a long day of travel and it being dark, I didn’t pay close attention to these landmarks. My first day in the village got off to an inauspicious start. It was dark and -25 as I made my way to the school. I walked around the building at least four times, wondering why no one was there and the place in darkness. Of course, I was walking around the Qaggiq and not the school!

Qaggiq is an Inuit term describing an igloo (iglu) where people gather to strengthen culture and celebrate life in song and story.

The Qaggiq is primarily a recreation centre. It is a large building housing a gymnasium, walking track, weight room, meeting rooms and a kitchen. I quickly found out that it was much more than this.

Scarcely two weeks into my stay, I attended the funeral of an elder at the Qaggiq. School was closed for the afternoon ceremony as were the local grocery stores. When an elder dies, everyone comes to pay their respect. The deceased lay in a simple wooden coffin at the front of the gym below the stage. There were words, songs and mourning. When the service concluded, everyone filed by the coffin to say their final farewells and lay flowers. The wooden lid was nailed on by family and friends. As it turned out, it would be the only indoor funeral I attended. Covid changed all the rules regarding large gatherings. I did attend several burials on cold winter days at one of the local burial grounds.

In no particular order of importance, the Qaggiq is also used for sports and as a place for young people to hang out after school. It doubles as the local courthouse when a judge and court officials come to town. Of course, being curious (nosy?), I felt compelled at attend one court sitting. Even if it didn’t have the look or feel of a traditional courthouse, justice was administered in much the same fashion.

I attended a few meetings at the Qaggiq none more interesting than the one celebrating the 45^th anniversary of the signing of the James Bay Northern Quebec Agreement (JBNQA). Two of the signatories of this historic document were in attendance to give us a first hand account of the proceedings.

I contributed one of my coconut cream pies for a banquet held at the Qaggig for the return of a group of students and teachers who went on a five day cross country skiing excursion on the land in the middle of winter.

I received my first Covid vaccination shot at the Qaggiq.

In normal times, the Qaggiq is also the place where Christmas activities happen, literally around the clock including dancing competitions and a wide array of games. Sadly, I was unable to see the Qaggiq full throttle at Christmas time because of Covid.

I attended a volleyball tournament and was amazed at the talent level.

On a personal note, my most memorable time at the Qaggiq was the summer of 2020 when I returned to the north for a second year. After completing my quarantine, I volunteered at a day camp for children at the Qaggiq, providing music for young children. It was a lot of fun and it was my first experience witnessing throat singing. I have embarrassed myself enough in one lifetime and didn’t try to emulate these amazing women.

A few evening ago, I was out for my evening walk heading for the inukshuk. Passing by the Qaggiq, the back doors flung open. A gaggle of young children were standing at the doorway waving and yelling “Len”.

As it turns out, my last memory of the Qaggiq will be the best.

Have a great long weekend.

Please stay safe.