Nunani: Lost In the Translation (Part One)

RACHEL ATTITUQ QITSUALIK

When I was a kid, the Netsilingmiut called me uqalluriktuq (“one who speaks freely”). I think I came by that honestly.

Another major part of communication – body language – was much more difficult to come by, and much harder to comprehend. Even though my family was Inuit, it originated from various areas of Baffin Island.

My father’s lifestyle, however, necessitated that we relocate to live amongst the Netsilingmiut peoples, whose ways were often quite different from ours. Frankly, it sometimes seemed that we might as well have been from a whole different continent.

I was a tomboy. I was not “lady-like.” My slacks and boots were constantly covered in mud. My sleeves were never tidy, normally tucked up to my elbows. I hardly ever combed my hair.

But I was polite. I figured out that if I sat and listened patiently, it would be seen as good behaviour, and I could then hold conversations with adults. Really old people were the most fun. But as I mentioned earlier, body language took a while to learn.

In our family, we were quite loud compared to others, and expressed our opinions as they came to us. This was untypical of many other Inuit.

Whenever I visited homes, I was continually surprised to find that people hardly ever held lively conversations. I soon learned that this was their particular way of practising silent behaviour, forming “good habits” (especially in children) that would allow them to reflexively remain quiet during a hunt.

These families were very traditional, living exclusively off the land – a good hunt meant everything to them. Our family’s way was to be silent out on the land, but to act the opposite back in camp.

There were other complications as well. The worst involved figuring out how to address people or behave in the presence of certain individuals, especially exceptionally traditional sorts such as elders. Here is how it would typically go in an elder’s home:

I would walk into the door of the tent and wait to be noticed, or I would let out a polite little “ahem,” or small cough. When I was finally told to enter, I would sit down way off to the side, making a huge display of becoming comfortable.

That gave the elder a chance to ask where my father was, or maybe whether he was out hunting. It would open up the chance for chit-chat, which I was not allowed to initiate. I would answer yes or no in the traditional way, either widening my eyes or wrinkling my nose.

When the elder was saying something, I would politely look down, and only look up when he was done. Of course I didn’t ask questions, which would have been scandalously rude. There would be long pauses in between the elder’s statements or questions, in which I was allowed to say, “Eee…,” to indicate that I was hearing what was being said.

Sometimes I was asked what I thought about this or that. What did I think? If I didn’t have an opinion, I would answer, “I don’t know.” And that would be the end of that.

On the other hand, there was no guarantee that I would not have an opinion. If so, the elder would be treated to an earful.

But the system was fair. If I was asked to speak, it was culturally assumed that I was now allowed my opinion. When it was my turn, I had the floor, and no one else could talk until I was finished.

I knew, as I had been taught by the elders, that when I was done, I was to indicate so, typically by saying, “Pijariiqpunga.” It had no literal translation, but it meant something akin to, “That’s all I have to say about that.”

It meant that someone else could have the floor now. This didn’t mean that the conversation went back and forth like English, or even that the speaker had to make some obvious point.

In fact, in English the statements might have been considered hopelessly long-winded and rambling. There could even be pauses – very long, completely silent pauses – in which no one spoke a word because the speaker had not yet indicated that they were finished.

It seems to me that this was a very civilized way of doing things.

(Continued next week.)