Canadian Government Executive - Volume 24 - Issue 04

The next summer, she wrote: “We feel so at home with them now; I cannot believe them any different from any men of our fa- ther’s age at home.” They changed Joan’s name to Arnapik – Our Little Woman. Bill Taylor’s name became Tunitshe-uti – The One Who Hunts Tunit (Dorset). My father Bill Taylor retired in 1989 af- ter a stint as President of SSHRC and man- aged to return to the Arctic for two more digs in 1990 and 1991. He passed away in 1994 at 67-years old. My mother Joan Tay- lor died in 2011 at 80-years old. Much has happened in the Arctic since the 1950s of course. It became Nunavut with its own provincial government, al- though the settlements now all have Inuit names. The people are no longer called Eskimos, which is a derogatory term from native Indian meaning “eaters of raw flesh.” They have always called them- selves the Inuit – the people – and the lan- guage is Inuktituk. “Inuk” means a person. While the language has been slowly disap- pearing, there have been recent efforts to revive it. Facebook, for example, recently announced a plan to provide the social media platform to the Inuit in their own language. For better or worse, the people have changed. Ayurnamat. So be it. A lison T aylor is a former federal government executive and President of Performance Solutions Inc. She is also a CGE Advisor on Leadership and Conferences. alison.taylor@live.com July/August 2018 // Canadian Government Executive / 39 EXECUTIVE BRIEF us it means “the thin ones,” deriving from a story that the first inhabitants found poor hunting and, although they faced starva- tion, they became survivors.” Mansel Island the following summer of 1958 was “a low flat blob of limestone grav- el covered with patches of water-soaked moss and grass off the coast of Ivujivik in Hudson’s Bay. In Inuit, it is ’the island that appears and disappears’.” Life on the tundra in the 1950s was rough. Supplies were basic and the base camp was tents made of thin waxed cotton. Mosquitoes and blackflies were dense and ever-present. The Inuit were struggling to live off the land. Yet despite the depriva- tions and challenges, a sense of humour remained: “A horrible nightmare of a wind hit our tent at 50-60 mph, and we woke to a howling storm. I’m so tired of bulky ill-fitting clothing, cold feet, straight hair, dirty nails and most of all the confinement of a wind-flapping tent. What I would give for a hot bath, and, yes, high heels and a girdle. All of which must mean that some- where under these stinking bulky layers of wool there is a woman.” Over time, the barrier in language and culture became less and less. Traditionally the Inuit gave names to the people of the south but they were rarely shared with the one so named. In their case: “We learned our Inuit names – Angookarapuk (Little Boss) and Angevoot (The Only Woman). Of course we were pleased, but would we ever understand their ways? They have no word for goodbye. They simply get up and leave. And it is considered impolite to say thank you for hospitality received; better to return the hospitality another time.” Inuit carving has and continues to be an integral part of their culture: “I watched Keeatina use a bow drill on his model of a kayak – the same tool used 1000 years ago by the Thule.” Of their dress, she wrote: “The parka is a very neat form of dress. A group of men with hoods-up, walking in the distance, looks more like a short pa- rade of monks.” Friendships were developed with many Inuit, but none more lasting than the lead- er Tyara and his clan. The main Sugluk archaeological site would be named in his honour. “Kululat came in to visit and said it was his birthday. I baked a cake and after it was devoured, the plate was handed back to me. I didn’t expect a thanks of course, but Tyara was quick to notice that I had come over the slippery rocks, and he took my arm with one hand and, with a flashlight, guided me back to our tent. This was indeed more courtesy than I ex- pected to be shown as a woman – a white woman – but when we reached the tent, he dropped my arm, brought his heels to- gether and with a slight bow and all the dignities of an oriental emperor, uttered the only English words that I had heard from his lips: ’Good night, my lady, and thank you very much.’ I was stunned. In those words, he had tried to span another culture over across many years in order to thank me in our way not his. Inuktitut often lacks the words we often use.” And later on: “With much ceremony, Tyara presented us each with a pair of duf- fel mitts. We were more touched than they will ever know. This was not gratitude for the food we gave, as they expect a share of food that anyone has, and each man takes care of his neighbour in the practical way their life demands. But this was thanks for the good time, the company, the friend- ship, the patience with their ways and lan- guage. The mitts will never wear out.” The Devon Island, Nunavut. (Credit: Canadian Space Agency)