Remembering Susa Aningmiuq

PAULINE DOUPE
Special to Nunatsiaq News

PANGNIRTUNG — A silence fell over the kitchen as an old familiar tune called “The picture on the wall” played on the radio.

Helen was baking bannock and I was making fresh rolls for the sandwiches. Whenever there was a funeral in Pangnirtung, the Auyuittuq Lodge catered the lunch, free of charge. I was the cook that day and I really needed assistance in preparing for that funeral. It was going be a large one.

The girls were so good to pitch in. I guess they all just wanted to contribute something to show their sympathy.

Through the lyrics of the song, I feel a connection to those whose pain will be almost more than they can endure today. I think of Etulu, who just received a new vehicle this week, one that Susa had him pick out down south. I think about the ride she would never take.

I wondered about her children and the pictures that were probably hanging on their wall. I imagined the emptiness they would feel when they gazed upon them.

I did not know the woman well, as I was new to the community. During the last three weeks I had taken over her job in the post office — a position no one else could truly fill, as I soon found out.

Through the pictures that hung on the post office wall, I soon felt that I was getting to know Susa. There were photographs of her and Etulu singing. She was a recording artist and here I learned about her creativity.

I remember always hearing the old hymns playing when I entered the post office, so I imagined her to be a religious woman. Crayon-coloured drawings that her grandchildren had sketched took up a place of prominence on the old post office wall.

This told me about the warm, caring family woman that she must have been. A famous portrait of her and John Kennedy Jr. standing on the beach in Pangnirtung soon opened my eyes to the charming side of her.

Although I desperately tried to fill her shoes, I soon realized it was not within my ability. During her absence, no one had really been capable of handling what she had been doing for years. I suspected she had been doing a two-person job.

I could see traces of her fine organizational skills. Only tracks of those signs remained, for she had been absent from Pangnirtung for a few months now, receiving treatment in Ottawa.

No one was really sure of what to do in the post office. Each of us just did the best we could, but we were aware that things were falling behind. After the first three days of trying to fill her position, I deemed her a saint and applauded her courage.
Susa Aningmiuq arrived back in Pang on Friday, July 27, and one week later she was gone. Her family’s lengthy wait for her to return from Ottawa was a sad reunion.

Susa made many contributions to the community through her music, her 15-year stay at the post office, and just by being the good person she was.

The Inuit music played on and the three of us hung our heads and kept on baking. No one dared look up or speak. Words needed not to invade the moment. Each of us held in our hearts the knowledge that some things would never be the same.

The pictures on the wall told me everything I needed to know about the woman. The silence of the people proclaimed her worth.