Le devoir de mémoire et les politiques du pardon

Mending the past: The Case of the Inuits

MENDING THE PAST The Case of the Inuits Peter Irniq Iwas taken, by a Roman Catholic priest, in broad daylight, right in front of my parents! We were at our summer camp near Naujaat, a tiny settlement on the west coast of Hudson’s Bay, getting ready to walk to inland, for our annual caribou hunt. It was 1958. I was 11 years old, and I was to attend Sir Joseph Bernier Federal Day School in Igluligaarjuk – Chesterfield Inlet – for the first time. Little did my parents or I know that this was the beginning of leaving behind my culture, language, Inuit spirituality and the practice of shamanism which we used for healing, this special relationship among us Inuit, with animals, land, our past and the future. We were to be assimilated into the Qablunaaq world, to think like a European. The losses we experienced were to be permanent. The impact on all of us – my family, my friends and many of us who are now considered leaders of our people – was traumatic. Many of us have spent our lives trying, in many different ways, to bring “meaning” back into lives that were emptied of the ideas, beliefs, and relationships which, for thousands of years, had brought meaning and purpose to the Inuit. Some have turned to this modern religion, called Christianity. Others, like me, are convinced that recovering the culture we have lost is essential to giving direction not only to ourselves, but also to future generations. Naujaat – Repulse Bay – is about 1000 miles to the north of Winnipeg, right on the Arctic Circle. In 1958 the settlement had about 100 people; 95 Inuit and five non-Inuit. In 1958, my parents were in their fifties. I had one little brother. I understood little English and was used to hearing French, as spoken by the clergy. We rarely stayed in the settlement, as my father preferred to be at one of our several camps. We still dressed in skins and lived in tents or snow houses in the wintertime. We harvested wildlife and fish for all our needs. My mother and sister carved and sold to The Bay to supplement our income. As a young boy, living in the vicinity of Naujaat/Repulse Bay, I was loved by my parents, taught what I needed to know by both my mother and father, and encouraged to be inquisitive, attentive, independent, and courageous. We lived nomadically and I was accustomed to entertaining myself and to learning by observation. Life was hard and often unpredictable 80 Le devoir de mémoire et les politiques du pardon because of the weather and the migrations of the animals, despite my parents’ ability to predict these. I remember these times with my family with a great fondness and respect for their wisdom. I also remember other things that I would like to forget, but that must be addressed if the past is to be mended. These include: – Being told that we should never say “no” to the demands of the Qablunaaq (the white man), and that if we dared to “talk back” there would be trouble. – Hearing the Hudson’s Bay Company traders say to me things such as: “We have a whole bunch of ‘sons-of-bitches of Eskimos’ around here. They don’t know how to hunt and trap.” – Picking up hints, like the Hudson’s Bay Company clerk telling others: “The RCMP is wondering when are you moving back to the land?” (In other words, you better get out of town soon!) Or: “If you don’t let your son go to school in Chesterfield Inlet, they can put you in jail, or take away your family allowance.” We were moved around, told when to come into town, often for a religious holiday, or never to hunt animals on Sundays, and then told to leave for fear that if we didn’t get out trapping, we might become dependent on government social assistance. We understood little of these new ideas that were brought before us. Then there were books to teach us to become good little “Eskimos.” The Eskimo Book of Knowledge, produced by the Hudson’s Bay Company in the 1930s, instructed the Eskimo how to be clean and to live in a safe, clean tent or igloo, and reassured us that “our father” the King was looking after us. In return, we were to be grateful...