I'm glad its cold out there
I haven't felt the cold air sting
this year
but it did this morning
I'm not the only one to be happy
about this cold
there seems to be ice in the fiord
that makes many people happy
not only hunters
but the christmas games on the ice
will be possible this year
and there are people who hope
hope that the winds will not pick up
that a warm spell does not strike
that the ice stays
its good to be cold
its good to have ice
lets hope it gets even colder
that the whole of cumberland sound
freezes solidly
I'm happy that its cold
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
The Polar Bear Story
In case you haven't heard, its been about a month since i caught my first polar bear.
Take that greenpeace! hahaha.
For many years i have been wanting to catch my first polar bear, been wanting to hunt them all my life. and that opportunity finally came on November 18, 2011, around 10 in the morning. When we first saw the bear, it was in the water and we had to herd it to land. if that makes sense? in inuktitut, i would say "unguujujavut nunamut."
let me tell you, or try to tell you how proud i was. after reading this post, you can call me Mr. Upiqqak
In my family, i am known to be proud after the first catch of an animal, not matter what it is. my father likes to tell the story of when i caught my first caribou and how i was already laughing even before i shot the caribou. so when we were bringing it to land, he told the story quickly.
people say that they start shaking before their first polar bear but i was way too excited that all i could think of was, ok, this is my day, thank god for this.
when i shot it, i just yelled woohoo. actually i yelled woohoo a bunch of time. i hugged my father a biggest hug i could think of and he was the first person i thanked. then my brother. i thanked him too. when we were skinning it, i promise you, i have never seen a more fatter polar bear than that. it was so fat. during the cut up, i was thinking of all the people i will pajuk, which in english, their is no equivalent word to, which broadly means people i will bring meat to.
i smiled that day so much, my cheeks were sore. i felt good that day. my father would say aakkuluk once in a while. he would say that he knows i am happy.
the strange thing is, the night before when my father called me, i told Annie, "I'm going to catch a polar bear tomorrow." and just 12 hours after that, my words became true. i tell you, it was a gift from God. i had been wanting to catch one for so long, that it really did feel like a gift. it was a gift, i know it. i believe it.
half hour after shooting it, i prayed standing up in the boat. even if it was to myself, i prayed and thanked everything that needed to be thanked, especially God for the opportunity.
for the next two weeks, i reminded everyone that i caught a polar bear. i reminded my family everyday. i reminded my girlfriend everyday. i joked about it everyday. the scar i have on my thumb, i would say that the polar bear swiped at me and nicked my thumb and thats how i got my scar. i joked that the hamlet of Pang has discontinued the polar bear season because my polar bear was just too awesome.
and to polar bear conservationist, i say, you don't know the first thing to what you have stopped. i was even thinking that all young people should be allowed at the age of 18, to kill their first catch because their self esteem will sky rocket. i am a new man and its all due to my first catch. i am a new man because its something i have wanted for so long and i have it now.
it feels great.
Take that greenpeace! hahaha.
For many years i have been wanting to catch my first polar bear, been wanting to hunt them all my life. and that opportunity finally came on November 18, 2011, around 10 in the morning. When we first saw the bear, it was in the water and we had to herd it to land. if that makes sense? in inuktitut, i would say "unguujujavut nunamut."
let me tell you, or try to tell you how proud i was. after reading this post, you can call me Mr. Upiqqak
In my family, i am known to be proud after the first catch of an animal, not matter what it is. my father likes to tell the story of when i caught my first caribou and how i was already laughing even before i shot the caribou. so when we were bringing it to land, he told the story quickly.
people say that they start shaking before their first polar bear but i was way too excited that all i could think of was, ok, this is my day, thank god for this.
when i shot it, i just yelled woohoo. actually i yelled woohoo a bunch of time. i hugged my father a biggest hug i could think of and he was the first person i thanked. then my brother. i thanked him too. when we were skinning it, i promise you, i have never seen a more fatter polar bear than that. it was so fat. during the cut up, i was thinking of all the people i will pajuk, which in english, their is no equivalent word to, which broadly means people i will bring meat to.
i smiled that day so much, my cheeks were sore. i felt good that day. my father would say aakkuluk once in a while. he would say that he knows i am happy.
the strange thing is, the night before when my father called me, i told Annie, "I'm going to catch a polar bear tomorrow." and just 12 hours after that, my words became true. i tell you, it was a gift from God. i had been wanting to catch one for so long, that it really did feel like a gift. it was a gift, i know it. i believe it.
half hour after shooting it, i prayed standing up in the boat. even if it was to myself, i prayed and thanked everything that needed to be thanked, especially God for the opportunity.
for the next two weeks, i reminded everyone that i caught a polar bear. i reminded my family everyday. i reminded my girlfriend everyday. i joked about it everyday. the scar i have on my thumb, i would say that the polar bear swiped at me and nicked my thumb and thats how i got my scar. i joked that the hamlet of Pang has discontinued the polar bear season because my polar bear was just too awesome.
and to polar bear conservationist, i say, you don't know the first thing to what you have stopped. i was even thinking that all young people should be allowed at the age of 18, to kill their first catch because their self esteem will sky rocket. i am a new man and its all due to my first catch. i am a new man because its something i have wanted for so long and i have it now.
it feels great.
Friday, December 9, 2011
What's your Inuktitut name?
Its not everyday you have to search for your Inuktitut name. Its not everyday you call your mother to ask her what your Inuktitut name is.
Many years ago now, when i first went to Nunavut Sivuniksavut, i got asked the question what my Inuktitut name was and i didn't have an answer. Maybe it's a Pang thing, but I've never had to deal with the question what my Inuktitut name was, and i suspect no one in Pang really cares what their Inuktitut name is either. My suspicion is that we already consider ourselves Inuk too much to think of our Inuktitut name, if that makes sense.
the story starts from 2002 when i was confronted with the question. I tried my best to say that it's Tommy, but that wasn't Inuk enough, and then it was Jimmy, but that wasn't Inuktitut enough either. I was completely stumped. it was the first time i have ever been asked what my inuktitut name was and i didn't have an answer. my classmates thought that i must've been embarrassed about my name to not say it, that i was ashamed of it. This was our inuktitut class, and everyone had an inuktitut name except me, and after awhile, i really did feel bad that i didn't have one.
That same afternoon, after we had our class, i called up my mother and asked her what my inuktitut name was. She was surprised, to tell you the least. she laughed for a bit and i had to explain why i needed an inuktitut name. so i told her the story and she laughed a little bit again. and she had to think and finally said, say Tommy is your name, its Inuktitut enough. i told her that they thought that wasn't inuktitut enough and she laughed again and said, try Jimmy, and i told her again that that is still not Inuktitut enough. she laughed again. and asked what kind of classmates i have. she was as perplexed as i was about the questions, because everyone in Pang is an Inuk, no matter what their names are.
she said something along the lines of: how much more inuk do they want you to be? and i did agree with her. in Pang, an inuktitut name is whatever name you have because you are an inuk to begin with, born with it. So she said, just call yourself Nuvaqqi, which was the last name of my namesake Tommy. So in 2002, after twenty two year of being inuktitut nameless, i became nuvaqqi, as my inuk name. in a way, it felt childish.
Its not that people from Pang are ashamed to be inuk, actually, i think we are just too inuk to have an inuktitut name. We've never felt we needed them to have one ourselves and we were inuit to begin with and didn't need strengthening with a name. and its not that we are not proud of our namesakes, we just know them by heart and never feel the need to flaunt or be more inuk about it. it just never crosses our minds. if you've met people from Pang. you'll probably notice that we are loud and sometimes obnoxious and probably more proud than anyone.
next time you see me, call me Tommy or Jimmy or i could create my new hillbilly name: Tom Jim or Jim Tom.
Many years ago now, when i first went to Nunavut Sivuniksavut, i got asked the question what my Inuktitut name was and i didn't have an answer. Maybe it's a Pang thing, but I've never had to deal with the question what my Inuktitut name was, and i suspect no one in Pang really cares what their Inuktitut name is either. My suspicion is that we already consider ourselves Inuk too much to think of our Inuktitut name, if that makes sense.
the story starts from 2002 when i was confronted with the question. I tried my best to say that it's Tommy, but that wasn't Inuk enough, and then it was Jimmy, but that wasn't Inuktitut enough either. I was completely stumped. it was the first time i have ever been asked what my inuktitut name was and i didn't have an answer. my classmates thought that i must've been embarrassed about my name to not say it, that i was ashamed of it. This was our inuktitut class, and everyone had an inuktitut name except me, and after awhile, i really did feel bad that i didn't have one.
That same afternoon, after we had our class, i called up my mother and asked her what my inuktitut name was. She was surprised, to tell you the least. she laughed for a bit and i had to explain why i needed an inuktitut name. so i told her the story and she laughed a little bit again. and she had to think and finally said, say Tommy is your name, its Inuktitut enough. i told her that they thought that wasn't inuktitut enough and she laughed again and said, try Jimmy, and i told her again that that is still not Inuktitut enough. she laughed again. and asked what kind of classmates i have. she was as perplexed as i was about the questions, because everyone in Pang is an Inuk, no matter what their names are.
she said something along the lines of: how much more inuk do they want you to be? and i did agree with her. in Pang, an inuktitut name is whatever name you have because you are an inuk to begin with, born with it. So she said, just call yourself Nuvaqqi, which was the last name of my namesake Tommy. So in 2002, after twenty two year of being inuktitut nameless, i became nuvaqqi, as my inuk name. in a way, it felt childish.
Its not that people from Pang are ashamed to be inuk, actually, i think we are just too inuk to have an inuktitut name. We've never felt we needed them to have one ourselves and we were inuit to begin with and didn't need strengthening with a name. and its not that we are not proud of our namesakes, we just know them by heart and never feel the need to flaunt or be more inuk about it. it just never crosses our minds. if you've met people from Pang. you'll probably notice that we are loud and sometimes obnoxious and probably more proud than anyone.
next time you see me, call me Tommy or Jimmy or i could create my new hillbilly name: Tom Jim or Jim Tom.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
October 21 - 26, 2011
There were the three of us,
my cousin my father and myself.
well, we left on a friday morning
it wasn't all that cold.
the anchor was stuck in the mud
and we couldn't take it out for a long while
when we finally got going
we realized about twenty kilometers out
that we forgot our ammunition box
had to go back to pang
and used up an extra hour doing so
and we finally left again.
it was a clam day when we left.
the next day was windy, pretty windy,
too much to hunt in
so we used out time to fix up the
cabin that my father has,
put in walls painted them,
tiled some of the floor
and went and fetched some water
sunday is sunday,
we rested and
ate some seal that we had caught
on friday afternoon.
now monday: it was windy as hell
around 3 AM my father woke us up,
told us the boat
might be in trouble
and we better check it out
and we did
it was taking in water
my cousin and i rushed to bale the water out
and were lucky to do so in time
and we moved the boat
to a different location
we went back and slept a little
and we fixed up the cabin again
on tuesday,
the world was different
we hunted,
the weather kept getting better and better
and our luck was getting better and better,
and seals were getting mor plentiful by the hour
and we many of them
we entered fiords
and had one person on land
by the mouth of the fiord
waiting for seals
that flee from the boat
and bang, the seal is shot
at this time of the year,
they're fat enough to float
the next day we hunted again
and went back
to pang on a wednesday
i tell this long story for one reason
i spent a lot of time with my father
we had fun together and
worked hard together we laughed together
and ate really good food together
we joked about shooting and
told funny stories
we woke up early each morning
and listened to the radio
we were silent for long times too
and that was as much conversation
as any
we made plans together
about the next day
we speculated on serious issues
we talked about family
most mornings we got up before the sun
wanted to get up
in many ways it was very special
to watch the sun arrive from the east
on an october morning
while there is snow and
the sea is slowly freezing
tea taste extra better
the air is crispier
at the end of each day,
you appreciate that you have a father
On October 26, 2011,
i sat on a toilet
i read a magazine
i was very comfortable
and in middle of the night,
while sleeping i had a cramp
on my left thigh, it hurt as hell
my cousin my father and myself.
well, we left on a friday morning
it wasn't all that cold.
the anchor was stuck in the mud
and we couldn't take it out for a long while
when we finally got going
we realized about twenty kilometers out
that we forgot our ammunition box
had to go back to pang
and used up an extra hour doing so
and we finally left again.
it was a clam day when we left.
the next day was windy, pretty windy,
too much to hunt in
so we used out time to fix up the
cabin that my father has,
put in walls painted them,
tiled some of the floor
and went and fetched some water
sunday is sunday,
we rested and
ate some seal that we had caught
on friday afternoon.
now monday: it was windy as hell
around 3 AM my father woke us up,
told us the boat
might be in trouble
and we better check it out
and we did
it was taking in water
my cousin and i rushed to bale the water out
and were lucky to do so in time
and we moved the boat
to a different location
we went back and slept a little
and we fixed up the cabin again
on tuesday,
the world was different
we hunted,
the weather kept getting better and better
and our luck was getting better and better,
and seals were getting mor plentiful by the hour
and we many of them
we entered fiords
and had one person on land
by the mouth of the fiord
waiting for seals
that flee from the boat
and bang, the seal is shot
at this time of the year,
they're fat enough to float
the next day we hunted again
and went back
to pang on a wednesday
i tell this long story for one reason
i spent a lot of time with my father
we had fun together and
worked hard together we laughed together
and ate really good food together
we joked about shooting and
told funny stories
we woke up early each morning
and listened to the radio
we were silent for long times too
and that was as much conversation
as any
we made plans together
about the next day
we speculated on serious issues
we talked about family
most mornings we got up before the sun
wanted to get up
in many ways it was very special
to watch the sun arrive from the east
on an october morning
while there is snow and
the sea is slowly freezing
tea taste extra better
the air is crispier
at the end of each day,
you appreciate that you have a father
On October 26, 2011,
i sat on a toilet
i read a magazine
i was very comfortable
and in middle of the night,
while sleeping i had a cramp
on my left thigh, it hurt as hell
Friday, September 9, 2011
The Cemetery.
It's right in the middle of town
with white crosses
some faded
some bright
right around each grave
are rocks, some painted white
some just the colour of rocks
some faded
some bright
when i see cemeteries and graves
in movies
they walk right through the grave
which we don't do up here
i don't know if it's out of respect
but we don't step on graves
this small town
deals with a lot of pain
death is always
just around the corner
the sun and clouds above
airplanes fly right above
huge fuel tanks are below
the ocean below
there's always an audience
during funeral processions
the mountains all around us
watch as we bury another body
In these past two months
the cemetery
has been busy
has added a good number of
bright new white crosses
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
The.
Maybe?
Maybe there is no reason to suggest ideas from my mind,
Maybe there is a time when writing is not very useful,
Maybe writing is just not that worth it when you have something going good,
Maybe when you feel contented?
If i could write songs like Neil Young,
I would do so right now,
Explaining why...
Why writing is as they say,
Best when is comes in bursts,
In whatever ways it comes through,
Negative or positive, it is a way of coping,
Also it can be immensely boring!
This right now, whatever i have is, pretty good.
Living in Ottawa i would think,
"There is so much to write about up there"
Not true.
Actually, I've seen way more noteworthy events and stories
Experiences that i thought i'd really like to write about
But nah! Not true.
I think it has to do with your perceptions and observations
and what your mind is "clouded" with.
What i thought was writing about entrails of animals were
Culturally encouraging and promotions of inuit values
Eating seal livers was too great to not be written about
Hunting with your brothers as blogworthy isn't much true.
What happens is, i think, you actually start realizing
Some stuff are best not being written at all
Just because people say our literacy rate is too low
Does not mean we have to always write about those subjects
Those are best done only through experience
Only by hunting will you actually know what hunting is.
I'm taking the advice of Bukowski on this
And i try to take it seriously
When he says to write only when you feel confident about it
Not that i'm un-confident about my writing
I just want it to be perfect as much as i possibly
Can make it perfect and understandable.
This is it.
this is the
The
One handles truths like dynamite. Literature is one vast hypocrisy, a giant deception, treachery. All writers have concealed more than they revealed.
-Anais Nin
Maybe there is no reason to suggest ideas from my mind,
Maybe there is a time when writing is not very useful,
Maybe writing is just not that worth it when you have something going good,
Maybe when you feel contented?
If i could write songs like Neil Young,
I would do so right now,
Explaining why...
Why writing is as they say,
Best when is comes in bursts,
In whatever ways it comes through,
Negative or positive, it is a way of coping,
Also it can be immensely boring!
This right now, whatever i have is, pretty good.
Living in Ottawa i would think,
"There is so much to write about up there"
Not true.
Actually, I've seen way more noteworthy events and stories
Experiences that i thought i'd really like to write about
But nah! Not true.
I think it has to do with your perceptions and observations
and what your mind is "clouded" with.
What i thought was writing about entrails of animals were
Culturally encouraging and promotions of inuit values
Eating seal livers was too great to not be written about
Hunting with your brothers as blogworthy isn't much true.
What happens is, i think, you actually start realizing
Some stuff are best not being written at all
Just because people say our literacy rate is too low
Does not mean we have to always write about those subjects
Those are best done only through experience
Only by hunting will you actually know what hunting is.
I'm taking the advice of Bukowski on this
And i try to take it seriously
When he says to write only when you feel confident about it
Not that i'm un-confident about my writing
I just want it to be perfect as much as i possibly
Can make it perfect and understandable.
This is it.
this is the
The
One handles truths like dynamite. Literature is one vast hypocrisy, a giant deception, treachery. All writers have concealed more than they revealed.
-Anais Nin
Monday, July 18, 2011
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