Taissumani: July 16, 1948 – The Passing of Ataguttaaluk, Queen of Igloolik

KENN HARPER

This is the story told by Tagurnaaq, wife of Palluq, in 1922.

(First of two parts)

“Uumaga (the pet name for her husband) and I were travelling from Iglulik to Tununiq [Pond Inlet area] when he dreamed one night that a friend of his had been eaten by his nearest kin. Uumaga has the gift of second sight, and always knows when anything remarkable is going to happen.

“Then we heard a noise. We could not make out what it was; sometimes it sounded like a dying animal in pain, and then again like human voices in the distance. As we came nearer, we could hear human words, but could not at first make out the meaning, for the voice seemed to come from a great way off. Words that did not sound like real words, and a voice that was powerless and cracked. We listened and kept on listening, trying to make out one word from another, and at last we understood what it was that was being said. The voice broke down between the words, but what it was trying to say was this: ‘I am not one who can live any longer among my fellows; for I have eaten my nearest of kin.’

“Now we knew that there should properly be no one else in this part of the country but ourselves, but all the same we could distinctly hear that this was a woman speaking, and we looked at each other, and it was as if we hardly dared speak out loud, and we whispered: ‘An eater of men! What is this we have come upon here!’

“We looked about us, and at last caught sight of a little shelter, built of snow with a piece of skin rug. It lay half hidden in a drift and was hardly to be noticed in the snow all round, which was why we had not made it out before. And now that we could see where it was the voice came from, it sounded more distinctly, but still went on in the same broken fashion.

“We went slowly up to the spot, and when we looked in, there lay a human skull with the flesh gnawed from the bones. Yes, we came to that shelter, and looking in, we saw a human being squatting down inside, a poor woman, her face turned piteously towards us. Her eyes were all bloodshot, from weeping, so greatly had she suffered.

“‘Kikkaq,’ she said – this was her pet name for Palluq – ‘Kikkaq, I have eaten my elder brother and my children.” [“My elder brother” was her pet name for her husband.] Palluq and I looked at each other, and could not understand that she was still alive and breathing. There was nothing of her but bones and dry skin, there seemed indeed hardly to be a drop of blood in all her body, and she had not even much clothing left, having eaten a great deal of that, both the sleeves and all the lower part of her outer furs. Palluq bent down quite close to hear better, and Ataguttaaluk – for we knew her now, and could see who it was – said once more:

“‘Kikkaq, I have eaten your fellow-singer from the feasting, him with whom you used to sing when we were gathered in the great house at a feast.'”

“My husband was so moved at the sight of this living skeleton, which had once been a young woman, that it was long before he knew what to answer. At last he said: ‘You had the will to live, therefore you live.'”

“We now put up our tent close by, and cut away a piece of the fore curtain to make a little tent for her. She could not come into the tent with us, for she was unclean, having eaten dead bodies. When we went to move her, she tried to get up, but fell back in the snow. Then we tried to feed her with a little meat, but after she had swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, she fell to trembling all over, and could eat no more. Then we gave her a little hot soup, and when she was a little quieter, we looked round the shelter and found the skull of her husband and those of her children; but the brains were gone. We found the gnawed bone, too. The only part she had not been able to eat was the entrails. We gave up our journey then, and decided to drive back to Iglulik as soon as she felt a little stronger.”

To be continued next week.

Taissumani: A Day in Arctic History recounts a specific event of historic interest, whose anniversary is in the coming week. Kenn Harper is a historian, writer and linguist who lives in Iqaluit. Feedback? Send your comments and questions to kennharper@hotmail.com.