Nunani: Shape-Shifter (Part One)

RACHEL QITSUALIK

Pray thee, what’s his disease?

A very pestilential disease, my lord;

They call it lycanthropia.

In those that are possessed with it,

…they imagine

Themselves to be transformed into wolves,

One met the duke, ‘bout midnight, in a lane

… and he howled fearfully;

Said he was a wolf; only the difference

Was, a wolf’s skin was hairy on the outside,

His on the inside…

— JOHN WEBSTER, The Duchess of Malfi

Long have humans recognized the powers that different animals possess, which we do not. Our modern aeronautics are of course inspired by the birds, whose ability to fly we have always envied.

But it doesn’t stop there. Inuit have longed for the deadliness of the polar bear, the stealth of the weasel, the speed of the caribou. Europeans have admired the power of the bull, the light tread of the cat, the gentility of the lamb. All of us wonder what it would be like to swim and breath underwater, unimpeded, or to resist the cold without the aid of clothing.

As every culture has admired the abilities of the animals, so have imaginative people within each culture proposed ideas of what it would be like to become such animals. This has resulted in the richest sorts of stories; stories that have had an immeasurable effect on custom, religion, language, art, and almost every other aspect of culture. The animals that a culture recognizes — even in the most industrialized society — form the basis of its archetypes, one of the pillars upon which the society’s ideals rest. Just think of how often animals are still referred to in everyday speech. We still communicate, as we always have, by using their traits as metaphors.

Ever since humans have admired animal traits, we have been trying to acquire them. We have always dressed up as animals, or worn symbols associated with them, in order to take on their “feel” — as though whatever they possess can somehow be transferred to us through sympathetic magic. A more extreme way of trying to assume an animal’s trait is to ingest it (most usually a special part of it). But the most extreme way of assuming animal traits is to convince oneself that one has become the animal — a phenomenon that has never quite managed to disappear.

As already suggested, those seeking to take on an animal’s characteristics tend to be desirous of superhuman powers, as well as exceptionally imaginative. In Inuit culture, those marked by both such traits were angakkuit (ie., shamans). Therefore, the lore of animal transformation, in Inuit culture, is usually lore pertaining to shamans.

The following story is a fantastic example of how, to shamans, animal transformation was considered a manifestation of sheer power.

Taitsumaniquuq:

Once, there was a Netsilik shaman who met a Utku shaman. Despite any attempts to get along, two shamans meeting almost always spelled trouble, since they could not resist the temptation to talk about each others’ powers.

As they talked about their respective feats, each began to try to top the other. After all, others were listening, and reputations were at stake. Unfortunately, each began to offend the other, until at last a fight broke out.

The Utku shaman finally said,

“You are no shaman.”

That was the last straw. The Netsilik shaman grinned evilly at the other, saying,

“If you’re so wonderful, how about a contest?”

“Fine. Suits me,” said the other.

So they stood outside and the people watched, aghast, as the two shamans duelled. The Netsilik shaman turned with a flourish, snarling,

“Defeat this!”

With that, there were gasps from onlookers as his features began to flow and shift. His face elongated, cheeks widening. His shoulders grew thicker, stretching and at last bursting the seams of his clothes, as he fell forward and shook himself violently. White bristles had sprouted all along his body, but still he grew greater and greater in size.

When he was finished, he raised horrendous black claws to swat at the air, and snuffed loudly, from lungs like bellows. He had taken on the form of his animal, and become a polar bear.

Some of the local children screamed at the sight, bolting back to their homes. Of those that remained, all eyes of the on looking community turned toward the Utku shaman, wondering how he would answer the challenge.

(Continued in Part Two.)