This isn't the first time my &#39fa;mily; has been here on Baffin Island'

When Saami reindeer roamed on Baffin Island

By JANE GEORGE

Karen Monika Paulsen, a Saami from Kautokeino, Norway, enjoys an 85-year-old bond with Baffin Island.

On Oct. 19, 1921, her great-grandfather, Juhán Nilsen Dure, her great-grandmother, Biret Anne, and her grandfather, Ole, then only six months old, arrived on south Baffin Island with 620 reindeer, part of ill-fated scheme by the Hudson Bay Co. to bring reindeer herding to the Eastern Arctic.

With skis and dogs, Saami have herded reindeer in northern Europe for thousands of years. They depended on the reindeer, closely related to caribou, for food, clothing, tools and transportation.

Their skills in herding prompted the HBC to bring 20 Saami and their reindeer to Baffin Island on the supply ship Nascopie, hoping they would train Inuit to herd the animals, in the same manner as Inuit in Alaska and the western Arctic.

Little remains now of the failed experiment, apart from occasional sightings of rugged, short-legged caribou, a handful of photos, and HBC documents. But stories about the Saami's brief Baffin Island sojurn are still told.

"This isn't the first time my family has been here on Baffin Island," said Paulsen, an exchange student at Nunavut Arctic College, who spoke last week at Iqaluit's Nunatta Sunakkutaangit museum.

HBC journals show the Nascopie dropped the Saami off at Amadjuak Bay, midway between what is now Cape Dorset and Kimmirut, in the fall of 1921.

Historical records and oral histories show the Saami immediately began to mingle with Inuit, who found nicknames for their new neighbours.

Inuit called the Saami nuvuqqiulait, or "people with pointed shoes,モ siargijarqtiit, or "people with skis,モ and qimmilliit, or "people with herding dogs."

Paulsen said her great-grandparents and their baby son left well-prepared for the three-week voyage when the ship embarked from Alta, a port in northern Norway.

The 87-metre Nascopie was packed. Company records show there were 3,000 sacks of moss, dogs, 60 sleds and three-years worth of supplies. The reindeer adjusted well to the rough sea voyage, even when the Nascopie hit a brutal storm near Cape Farewell off Greenland.

Paulsen said that, once around the tip of Greenland, Saami were amazed at seeing icebergs, which they thought looked like lumps of sugar.

About 20 reindeer died before the vessel landed at Amadjuak Bay. Saami and Inuit men worked side-by-side for three weeks to offload the surviving animals.

Meanwhile, Saami and Inuit children played together, eventually developing a play-language of their own, Paulsen said.

Maret Mienna, eight years old when she went to Canada, told Paulsen how Inuit seamstresses taught her to make a waterproof sewing stitch. Mienna later taught this skill to Saami, Paulsen said.

Inuit also helped the visiting Saami survive an outbreak of flu in the spring by making them a broth of duck and eggs.

The late Peter Pitseolak of Cape Dorset recalled his encounters with Saami in the book, People from Our Side, written with Dorothy Eber.

"When we entered their homes ムtheir tents were made of blankets – I smelled birds' nests. It turned out that I had smelled their footwear. They had grass for socks. All they had for socks was grass!"

Pitseolak said some Saami even learned Inuktitut. "We were really friendly with these people. We liked to be with them," Pitseolak said.

But after only a year, when the Nascopie made its next annual call, all but three of the Saami herders headed home.

One of the herders, a young man called Niilas, struck up a relationship with an Inuk girl, and they would often sit outside playing music together. He didn't want to leave her, but ended up leaving for Norway in 1923, only to die less than 10 years later. It was, Paulsen said, "a tragic love story."

By the time the last of the Saami left, Inuit knew everything ム except how to bite off the testicles of reindeers to castrate them, Paulsen said.

However, the reindeer ran into big trouble. That's because the winter ice was too hard for them to break in their search for food.

Even during the warmer months, the reindeer couldn't be herded into large groups, according to Saami practice, because the meager supply of moss on the tundra couldn't support them.

Instead, the reindeer were split up into smaller herds, Paulsen said. This obliged the Saami to walk or ski up to 100 kilometres a day to keep up with them.

Hungry wolves were another threat to the reindeer, as were caribou, which held a natural attraction for the reindeer, who bred with them.

When the Saami left, Inuit took over the reindeer. That's where Paulsen's stories end.

But in "People from Our Side," Pitseolak wrote that many of the reindeer died.

"They had very stupid people in charge of the reindeer… they took the reindeer for long walks and left them hungry for a long time. Eventually they started dying," he said.

According to Pitseolak, Inuit never liked reindeer meat much, saying it was "a bit watery."

After Paulsen's talk, several Inuit with South Baffin roots produced new information, stimulating her eagerness for more Inuit memories.

Paulsen, who is now back home in Kautokeino, said she's eager to return to Nunavut. On her next trip, she wants to visit the place near Amadjuak Bay known as Qarmarjuit, where her great-grandparents and grandfather lived 85 years ago.

Paulsen would like anyone with information to share about the brief history of Saami and Inuit on Baffin Island to write her at gadisj@gmail.com.

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