Tuktu

The morning is a little warmer than I had hoped for. The caribou will be closer to the shore today, and that means I will have to walk further to find them. Everything else is as it should be. There are no cliffs rising like a tidal wave of land in the distance and for the none-natives it would be difficult to tell the ground from the sky early in the morning. The seal-skin boots are warm and protect me from the slow wind. My coat is made of caribou and it fits me well. I am sad that I have no son to teach the ways of hunting the caribou and the narwhal to, it is becoming more and more difficult to preserve our traditions.1

The none-native government built towns for us, but it is expensive. Everything we need to build arrives on planes when the weather is clear. They bring us tools, we use steel instead of bone now, but our knives are still important to us, even though the material has changed. I slept in a hunter’s cabin last night. It is difficult to build and igloo alone, so my people built huts with material from further south, so that we could rest there when we went to find food for the community. That is how we survive, everyone helps each other.2

I am happy for the things the none-natives have brought to us. I have a rifle strapped to my back, which makes hunting more efficient and easier. Sometimes it is necessary to sacrifice a traditional spear or harpoon for the sake of surviving, but I do not like how the none-natives who bring these tools look upon them with eager fascination, while we concern ourselves only with using them to survive.3

The walk towards to caribou is slow, but I do not mind. It is necessary sometimes to walk for hours to find them, even though I know where the herd will be. 4

There are not many of them today, but my aim is still straight and I kill one quickly and as painlessly as I can from distance. My people believe that all animals have a soul, like people. It is important to hunt with respect, if you don’t hunt with respect, you wil be punished. It is important for a hunter to take only what he needs, and nothnig more. That is a lesson which every hunter should learn. Hunting is so important to my people that in our language, the word for hunter is the same as the word for man. A boy becomes a man, when he becomes a hunter.5

The caribou will be useful for the community, it will bring much food, fur and useful bones. Butchering it is difficult and precise work, it makes a hunter thirsty. It is traditional amongst my people to cut out a part of the stomach, to empty the contents onto the snow, and to make it into a small bag. We fill this with the snow around us, tie it up and stuff it back into the carcass, so the hunter will have something to drink after working. 6

The fur comes off easily with the skill my father taught me. I can roll it up neatly to carry across my back. The water is a welcome reward when I am finished. It is necessary to suck the water from the stomach through a fresh piece of snow, so that it is clean when it enters our bodies.7

It is a long journey back to the town, but I have learnt the ancient stoicism of the elders, and I am patient. The carcass is a heavy load to drag, but I am happy to have something to offer the community. We both benefit from hunting, the animal and my people. Its death allows us to live, and in its consumption, the animals soul is rewarded by becoming part of the human’s, and we are very grateful for it.