Nunani: Inukshuk for sale (Part one)

RACHEL QITSUALIK

“So if you could just write down the different types of inukshuks there are, that would be good.”

“Different types?” I asked. I was confused.

“You know, ones that are used for magical purposes, ones that are tributes to the gods, ones that mark sacred areas….”

Now he was really throwing me. This phone conversation was surreal. I wanted to ask him where he had gotten his bogus information, except that I was still flabbergasted by his use of ‘inukshuks.’”

“Inuksuit,” I said.

“Huh?”

“The plural is ‘inuksuit.’ Not ‘inukshuks.’” I found it alarming that he felt qualified to write a book about an inukshuk when he didn’t even know the plural form of the word.

To think, it had all begun with an e-mail.

Several years ago, I had a Web site that provided free information on Inuit culture. It was fun to run, and I got e-mails from all around the world, asking me this and that about Inuit traditions and words. But whereas the mail began as a trickle, a few letters a week, time saw that trickle grow into a flood of dozens, eventually hundreds. Many of the e-mails were getting tiring. Too many were from students writing things like:

“My professor has given us the assignment of explaining how eco-feminism relates to tribal subsistence strategies, and we’re to use examples from Inuit culture. So would you mind writing up, in at least 5,000 words, your reasons why you think Inuit women are eco-feminists, providing real-life examples of Inuit eco-feminism that you have witnessed?”

This might seem hard to believe, but it is not an exaggeration — people were literally requesting that I just sit down, on my own time, and write up free university papers for them. In all fairness, I received the same number of requests from students in grade school and high school, although the university students were easily the most offensive — by the time you are at university, you should know better. Did they suppose that I was some ignorant fool, some Wild Child of the North, unaware of how university worked? Gee, I kept thinking, I wish I had had somebody to write up my papers for me when I was at university. They soon stopped receiving even courtesy replies.

You might be surprised to know, however, that the demands for free academic papers were not the worst of them. The most galling ones, by far, were from businesses and self-employed individuals who wanted to cash in on the global interest in Inuit, without having to do any of their own legwork. I received countless e-mails requesting cultural content for businesses, as well as snazzy Inuktitut names for companies or product lines. I thought it was nice enough that I would answer the latter, at first, but I would still receive back:

“Too long. Make it short, catchy. We need consumers to get a feel from the name.”

What, was I their employee now? As these e-mail discussions went on, I became embittered, since I sensed that my kindness was being exploited. Sometimes, the e-mails would lead to further phone consultations. Here I was, taking a good chunk of time out of my day for the sake of someone who stood to make money, without even a thought of compensating me.

Only a couple ever offered anything in return, such as the one gentleman who needed a name for his new line of parkas. I told him that one of his parkas, in trade, would be fair, so he honourably sent me one. I wore it for years, and only recently passed it on to someone who needed it more than I did.

As for the others sorts, they soon had me in a state of self-doubt. Was I becoming hardened in wanting compensation for a name they stood to make money from? Education was a totally different thing — I would never begrudge explaining words to school-kids (as long as I didn’t have to do their papers). But were the business types making me into a money-grubber?

I decided to ask a white consultant acquaintance about it.

“Do you think I should charge businesses for Inuktitut words?” I asked.

Scandal! “Absolutely not!” went the reply. “Knowledge should be free.”

“Would you name a company, in English, for free?”

“Well … no. But that’s different.”

(Concluded in Part two.)