Nunani: Want (Part two)

RACHEL QITSUALIK

The Inuit way – that which is “Inuktitut” – is not merely a matter of culture, but of breeding. It is a well-documented fact that Inuit have physically adapted to their environment. An example of this is the development of extra blood vessels in the hands (none of my southern friends can handle a frozen fish for long without going numb). But my own suspicion is that Arctic severity has forced even more evolution upon the Inuit mind than on the body. Even the Inuit I know who have been raised in the South still exhibit very Inuktitut attitudes: stoicism, cynical humour, an easy-going demeanor, and a non-paranoid sort of wariness. Their brains are instinctive survival machines, even without the culture.

The greatest evidence to support the idea of the unique Inuit mind, I feel, is the Inuit way of life today. Modern Inuit have embraced the global community, living in houses, paying taxes, watching cable TV. Some have legal degrees and 4×4 trucks. They catch the latest movies and music almost as soon as southerners do. They have all the modern concerns of waste disposal, managing governments, doing business. One might almost think that they are identical to southerners, but simply situated in the Arctic.

Now here is the miracle: Inuit also still hunt. They still eat traditional foods. They hold drum-dances, throat-chanting events. Many still consult elders. Every day, I spot someone wearing some piece of traditional clothing, always quite well made. Every day, I spot sleds lying around, often right next to huskies meant to pull them. Inuit still learn traditional sewing techniques. They carve like mad. Chances are good that if you go to tell an Inuk about some traditional story, they will have already heard a version of it. They have made award-winning movies about their traditional lifestyle, showing no sign of quitting.

The greatest miracle of all, perhaps, is that they still speak their original language. Just the other day, I went to rent a copy of “X-Men” and saw two boys, about eight years old, speaking Inuktitut to each other. They were not speaking it as “properly” as I would have liked, and they were giggling as they exchanged Inuktitut “dirty” words, but it suddenly occurred to me what an astonishing thing I was witnessing. In North America alone, there are many aboriginal cultures that no longer know a word of their original languages.

Such amazing preservation of culture ties into the reasons why the questions posed by early explorers did not elicit the expected answers from Inuit. “What do you believe?” was posed by Knud Rasmussen. The answer from his Inuk companion was, “We don’t believe. We fear.” A similarly fundamental question posed by Rasmussen to a different man was, “What do you want?” The Inuk’s response was to run off a long list of things that he must avoid in order to stay healthy.

Such answers best characterize the Inuit mindset, that which persists today. To the average southern mind, fulfillment is defined by acquisition. I am not referring only to materialism, but to acquisition of resources, such as relationships, recognition and opportunities. The assumption is that life begins at a sort of “zero-rating” for happiness. After that, the more things that go right in one’s life, the happier one becomes. There are great expectations of life.

However, the traditional Inuit mind expects very little. In this mind set, happiness is a natural state, disappearing only when things go wrong. Instead of trying to make oneself happier, the traditional Inuit mind is preoccupied with preserving happiness by fending off those things (disease, injury, hostility) that steal happiness away.

The reason, I think, that Inuit have preserved their culture so well is that their minds have evolved to feel that life owes them nothing, facing hardship with a heroic kind of stoicism that is bred into them by their environment. While modernity may sometimes stifle this tendency, the instinct is always there, a genetic gift. The concern of the deepest Inuit mind is to maintain the things that give one joy, while trying to adapt to that which does not. Inuit, therefore, are less concerned with alteration than they are with preservation. Thus do the things that they best love about their culture ever endure.

What do Inuit want? To be Inuit.

Pijariiqpunga.