Nunani: Tickler (Part three)

RACHEL QITSUALIK

The man knew what had killed his wife, a thing that he had once heard of, called “Mahaha, the Tickler.” But he knew little about it. He only wanted revenge. Certain that it was still lurking about somewhere, he resolved to bait it. So he disposed of his wife’s body with the respect that it was due, and once finished, he put on a show of great fatigue, as though readying for sleep. But, secretly, he lay waiting for the Mahaha to come.

Time crawled by as he lay upon the sleeping-platform, waiting. At last, there was a shuffling sound in the porch. Someone, some thing, was creeping in, moving ever so slowly.

Still feigning slumber, he listened as it made its way to the bed. Past narrowed eyelids, he could see it rise up over him, eyes shining like twin stones under water. Its dark features split open in a yellowed grin, and the creature could not resist laughing.

“Here I am, father-in-law! Ma-ha-ha!”

The man rolled off the sleeping-platform, knocking the creature aside. Before it could respond, he had seized its ankles and yanked it off its feet. The feeling was eerie — the Mahaha was unnaturally light, and those ankles were hard as antler.

The igluvigaq was old, the floor icy. With a great surge of strength, the man whipped the creature against it. The Mahaha’s head lashed violently against the ice, and the Mahaha made a peculiar noise.

It was laughing.

Again and again the man smashed the creature upon the ice, but the laughter only increased. With every blow, it laughed more loudly, more hysterically, until the man thought that he would go mad.

Casting the creature aside, the man fled, running blindly. In a blur of panic, he ran for some time before realizing that he was approaching a hole in the ice from which he had previously drawn water. He began to slow, wanting to see if the Mahaha had given up the chase. But he had not even turned before he heard its awful cry:

“Here I am, father-in-law! Ma-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

He sped to the water hole, leaping across it and wheeling about. Sure enough, the Mahaha was right there, grinning at him from the other side.

Perhaps the man went a bit mad, then. Perhaps he had simply run out of options, so that any desperate tactic seemed feasible. But for one reason or another, he did an odd thing. He squatted down by the water hole and muttered to the Mahaha,

“Before we finish, let’s have a last drink.”

He scooped up a handful of water, and drank.

The Mahaha, perhaps amused, maybe simply desiring to mock its victim, chuckled once again and squatted likewise, bending to drink.

Like bear to seal, the man was upon the Mahaha, bearing down with all his strength, forcing the thing into the hole. The Mahaha fought desperately, a flurry of thrashing limbs and spraying water, but the man defied each of its attempts to claw its way out. At last the struggling ceased. The Mahaha slipped out of sight, beneath frigid black waters, and the man knew that he had at last avenged his wife.

That was how the man defeated Mahaha, the Tickler.

I think Inuit culture should pat itself on the back for an original idea here. It is a rare thing to find a unique folkloric creature, and the Mahaha is basically so. The closest thing I’ve been able to find is a Finnish spirit called the Ovda. But while the Ovda will tickle its victims, it more often dances them to death.

So where does Mahaha come from? It remains a mystery. I’m sure there is an elder out there who knows but isn’t telling. It may possibly be based upon reality, inspired by a madman or murderer executed for dreadful deeds — something that has occurred among Inuit before. Often, such lurid events find their way into folklore, becoming euphemistic over time.

Then again, if we are entertained by the Tickler, we might pause to consider that this might be the whole point of the story. Even ancient stories may exist for the sake of entertainment, rather than didacticism. After all, even the ancients enjoyed a good yarn.

And that, ironically, may be the most valuable thing that this ticklish tale has to tell.

Pijariiqpunga.