Eskimo

Traveling

Rene Taipana: When I first remember. My first memories--like when I first woke up myself. People in the spring would gather at the coast. It was in the spring-–like this time of year. We would travel to a lake and stay there until late spring waiting for the land to dry up so we could hunt caribou. We would fish and get an occasional caribou for meat while waiting for the hair of the caribou to become good for clothing. That's how people lived back then. And when the land was good to travel on and when the caribou hair and skin were good, we traveled inland hunting for caribou - for clothing and food. We fished along the way, going to where there are kiidjiyuq [ fish that sit in warm water] in the mouths of rivers and along the shores of lakes. We lived inland until it started to get dark out. We used to live on the land that way throughout the summer. And when it was around the end of August or September, we would start our gradual trip back to the coast. When the caribou hair is thick, we would hunt for those caribou with a thick hair for the outer parka called qullitaq. That's when the weather is starting to get cold. That's when we started our walk back to the ocean.

At that time, the beginning of a trip back to the coast was called hivuqamuyuq. When the lakes started to freeze over, then we would know it was around the Fall season. We made sleds where they are caribou skins which were called uniutik [skins dragged on the ground] rather than alliak. And then it's late fall. That's when the ground starts to freeze over and we leave our trip from hunting Caribou with the thick hair and descend to the coast. That trip was called ataupluta. That was our way of life.

When we got to the coast, we built our igloos. We finished building our igloos at a place where we left our spring caches of seal fat from seals caught the previous winter. Our caches were for the specific time of year when we head back for the coastline. That's where we camped while we sewed clothing to use when the sun starts to shine again after Christmas. That clothing was to be worn then.

Sam Oliktoak. In the fall, when the ocean first freezes up along the coastline, we built snow houses and later clothing. At the end of Christmas, when we have done our clothing, we headed out on the ice. Before we left for the ice, we spent a day playing games and feasting. Food of all kinds was gathered and prepared. That's how we feasted then.

Renee Taipana: Nattiqut. That's what we called the platform on which the food was placed on top of a sealskin. We feasted in a snow house built for that purpose every year.

Sam Oliktoak. We built three snow houses. In the middle to connect the three, we built a large snowhouse. This is where the dancing took place and the playing of games--in the center of the igloo. Some akhunaaq [thongs made from sealskin] were put up for people to swing on.

Renee Taipana: My parents would talk about those times. Those are the times that I remember. They danced with a qilaut, an Eskimo drum.

Sam Oliktoak: They would gather there to play games and dance for one bit one day. They danced until late at night and after that day, we were all ready to travel down onto the ocean. We had to wait for the sea ice to be covered with hard packed snow so we could build snow houses out on the ice. We also had to wait until the snow on the ice was good for drinking water.

Renee Taipana: That's right. We had to wait until our snow wasn't salty-tasting for snow water. Even without any doctors, people knew back then that the snow on the sea ice is salty with the first snowfall. So they didn't go out on the ice right away.

Jenness did not make it to Prince Albert Sound But he had satisfied his curiosity that the Prince Albert people were as to language and culture very similar to The Copper Inuit of Dolphin and Union Strait. Toward the end of the summer Jenness and his adopted family made the slow migration back to the southern coast fishing and hunting caribou along the way. At that time of year food shortages were common and the Inuit would go for days without sighting caribou or catching fish. Jenness was impressed by the endurance and patience of his traveling companions the experience [of starvation] was no novelty in their lives they merely tighten their belts trudge steadily forward a dozen or 15 miles and said smiling smiling lately if we sight no Caribou today we will tomorrow or if not tomorrow certainly the day after (Jenness 1928:219).

After his extended research visit to the land of the copper Inuit, Jenness wrote two definitive books about the people with whom he lived and traveled: The Life of the Copper Eskimo(1922) and The People of the Twilight(1928). Stefannson, working to the north, and Jenness, to the South, documented well the traditional culture of the Copper Inuit. The scholarship was completed just in time, for the isolation of the Copper Inuit was soon shattered permanently by the activities of traitors, missionaries, and other representatives of southern culture. As Jenness wrote years later in his epilogue to The People of the Twilight:

Even as we sailed away traders enter.e their country seeking fox-furs; and for those pelts so useless for real clothing they offered rifles, shot-guns, steel tools, and other Goods that promise to make life easier so the Eskimos abandoned their communal seal hunts and scattered and isolated families along the coast in order to trap white foxes during the winter when the fur of that animal reaches its prime. Their dispersal loosened the old communal ties that had held the families together. The men no longer labored for the entire group, but hunted and trapped each one for his family alone... The commercial world of the white man had caught the Eskimos and its mesh destroying their self-sufficiency and independence, and made them economically its slaves. Only in one respect did it benefit them: it lessened the danger of those unpredictable famines which had overtaken them every 10 or 15 years, bringing suffering and death to young and old without distinction (Jenness 1928:240).

When we arrived home, I was informed that the strong gale had broken the ice around Dalrymple Rock. Now that it was about to settle again, there was a chance of a good catch of walrus, because these animals could get closer to Saunders Island, where there are mussels and where they like to stay. Consequently, I left Navarana at the settlement and joined the hunters on the ice. It was a healthy life, but somewhat dull in the evenings when we were running around playing to keep ourselves warm. One day, a fresh young man had a bright idea.

"Somebody got the desire for eggs," he shouted. "There are eggs on this island. Let us go get eggs!"

The others seconded his motion, and the whole crowd scurried up to get—my eggs. It so happened that I was the only one who had collected and cached enough of them, and I had sneakily counted on them for myself and my guests. As a man of honor, I could of course do nothing but join the chorus and express my satisfaction that my wretched eggs were allowed to be included in the meal. They came down with bags filled with the stone-hard frozen eggs. Some were gnawed on the spot, like apples, others were put in the pot until it was filled up with eggs. Nobody gave it a thought that these eggs belonged to me. Had I owned the eider ducks? Had I done anything but hide the birds' eggs? Nobody in this country knew how to be content with an egg or two. Here the fun was to see how many could be downed. And every man had ten fingers and ten toes, that was enough to count on. We filled the pot several times.

When I returned home, I could really begin to appreciate my little woman. She had taken wonderful advantage of her visits. What she had paid with, I don't know, but now she had fine kamiks of white sealskin with a beautiful border of bear mane.

I told her of my experience with the eggs. She said immediately that she would take care of that, since I seemed to be so fond of eggs. I told her that she was not to ruin my good name and reputation as a hunter by passing my complaint on to the others. She turned her big black eyes toward me and looked at me as if I had wanted to avert a misfortune or heavy insult to both of us: "Do you really think that I could do that to you?" she said seriously.

She went down to her mother and said that she felt sorry that it would not be possible to treat guests to eggs this year, since the hunters had used them out on the ice and didn't leave any to take home to the women.

The next day, Kasaluk told her husband that she strongly feared that the walrus hunt would be of short duration this year. In her dreams, she said, she had seen that the ice was strewn with eggshells, and in the same vision she understood that this insulted the walrus so that they would decide to go elsewhere. The hunters talked the matter over. They agreed of course that a mere woman's dreams should have no influence. But for the sake of all eventualities it was decided that it was better not to eat any more eggs as long as the walrus hunt lasted. As a result, plenty of eggs were stored up in my quarters.

But a good hunter has additional considerations when he is choosing a bride. To an Eskimo, a wife is more or less an advertisement. The degree of ease and comfort in which she seems to be living is the measure of his ability as a hunter and provider. Although she has a thousand tasks to perform, she is never required to do any heavy or dirty chores. Her value to him lies in how neat, gentle, and loving she can be; hard work would only weaken her for lovetime, Chewing skins and sewing is the woman's job, but flensing the animal is the man's job; cooking the meat for the guests is the woman's task, but taking it down from the meat rack, chopping it up, and bringing it into the house is the man's. The wife's composure and attractiveness tell the guests of the husband's wealth. It follows that a girl who shows industry and talent, and who keeps herself neat, is much desired for a mate.

On the other hand, the busier a hunter keeps his wife sewing, entertaining guests, and bearing children, the prouder she is of him. Coquettishly, she calls him "the terrible one" because he keeps her in such slavery, and it is every girl's dream sometime to be able to shout: "Oh, a poor woman does not have the ability to prepare all the skins that a man can bring home. How I envy those women whose husbands give them only a few skins to prepare!"

With such a speech, she can make the other wives green with jealousy.

If such a neat and clever girl should also happen to be fat, then she is really the village belle. An Eskimo cannot give his wife jewelry, new hats, or other things that will demonstrate his wealth, nor can wealth be demonstrated in clothing: all the women's apparel is pretty much alike. It is therefore essential that she appear well fed! As a result, there must always be lots of food--and fattening foods, too--at his house, and his family will enjoy respect and a good reputation. A fat girl is always popular because, as a wife, she will be easier to keep in style, and stoutness is identical with beauty among the Eskimos.

This reminds me of Inuiyak who was one of my Eskimo helpers during the Fifth Thule Expedition and whom, when I was about to return to Denmark, I paid with such gear as I was not going to use any more. He got sled and dogs, axes, knives, and a gun. All of a sudden he became a tycoon among his people, and his first thought was to get a wife. In Repulse Bay he asked for a few days off, and came back with a bride. Being so rich, he had of course no difficulty in getting the fattest one in the place. When Inuiyak came driving up with her on his sled, he made a big to-do out of puffing and panting so that we all could see how hard he had to push. We gave them a real celebration, but the next day we regretted it. We had counted on Inuiyak to take a load on his sled for us on the month-long journey we still had left. But he was no longer the same man!

"My wife is so fat," he bragged. "No dogs can drag this heavy burden. She is too big to run, so others will have to take those boxes!"

This was shouted in a loud voice so everybody could hear it. The intention was to flatter the beauteous lady; being in love has strange effects on people. So Inuiyak wasn't very useful to us any more.

"Storkerson set out for his postponed exploration of the northeast part of Victoria Island and on April 12, I and my companions--Noice, Lorne Knight, and Emiu--started north again. As we proceeded over the ice of Hazen Straight and along the east coast of Borden Island, I discovered that Noice and Knight had joined the ranks of those who considered it unneccessary to obey orders. In winter quarters they had eaten only canned groceries and avoided underdone meat, with the result that they now developed symtoms of scurvy. This disobedience fortunately did not kill them, but it cut short our trip beyond the limits of discovered territory. At something short of 82 Degrees North, on April 26, it became obvious that we must turn back. Ice conditions now, however were so bad that we could not return to Borden but had to head for Cape Isachsen instead.

On May 11 we reached the cape and set up what was named, appropriately enough, "Camp Hospital." Here we remained while I hunted caribou with gratifying success. The fresh meat soon had the two invalids on the mend. It was not many days before they were able to travel. We crossed Lougheed Island for the second time, finding plenty of food and available native coal.