Annie Muktuk and Other Stories

by Norma Dunning

  Tetuk’s frightened eyes bolt to Alaq and Keenaq. She utters one firm command, “Tapiriik!” as the door slams shut.

  Alaq and Keenaq hear the lock of the door click as Tetuk screams.

  Alaq and Keenaq gather up the baby girls and fly up the stairs to room number one. They lay each of the little trembling bodies beside one another on one of the beds. Keenaq licks the tips of her fingers and begins to rub and blow into the eyes of each child. In seconds the trembling stops and the little bodies soften with calmness. Alaq reaches around each tiny neck and pinches the base of each skull. In seconds the tiny girls are sleeping, their tiny breaths are rhythmically slow and steady.

  Keenaq and Alaq change their clothes. They are back inside their summer caribou robes, their hoods are pulled low, almost touching their chins. Keenaq reaches inside her sleeve and pulls out a small bag made of potato sackcloth closed up with a piece of twine. Alaq pulls her hunting knife from her left sleeve. They look at one another for one quick moment and head out the door of room number one. Keenaq looks to Alaq at the top of the stairs and yells, “Inuttapuq Kajuq!”

  Tetuk cowers in a dark corner. Fear has taken over every part of her body. She is unable to stand straight as Keegan runs his square fingers down the front of her blue dress. He cups her face in his hand as Tetuk slumps against the concrete wall. Keegan reaches into the pocket of her new dress.

  “Well, lookie here! What I’ve found—red lipstick!” Keegan hands it to Tetuk and tells her to put it on. “Paint up your brown face for me a little, will ya!” Keegan points towards a cracked mirror next to his bunk in the boiler room.

  Tetuk stands in front of the mirror, her hands shivering with fear. She moves the red colour around her quaking mouth.

  Keegan bursts out laughing. The sound of his laughter darts in circles around the hot basement.

  “Ya look like a clown from the circus—yes ya do! More—put more red stuff around your mouth!” Keegan demands. “More—because I’m running all of me into that hole and I want it to look like a real woman’s mouth!”

  Tetuk turns towards the mirror once more and slowly rubs the red colour around her lips. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out an eyeliner pencil. She draws in the traditional beauty lines onto her chin and cheekbones while Keegan pulls back the one blanket on his wooden cot. With each skinny line, Tetuk feels her spirit strengthen. Power is returning to her soul.

  Keenaq and Alaq work the lock on the door of the boiler room. Alaq silently wiggles the lock with her hunting knife while Keenaq stands back, her head down, the words of her prayer flooding the room. She prays for the strength they are each going to need and for the situation to be handled quickly. She prays for the little girls upstairs. Prays that they will not awaken with fear. She prays for Alaq to slice the lock on the door the same way she has seen her skin a fox or rabbit—only one smooth cut.

  Alaq nods a low grunt and the door is carefully opened. Keenaq and Alaq stand together; Keenaq unties the small potato sack and throws the contents high into the air. She holds tight onto Alaq’s right hand and they both jump as high as they can underneath the sprinkling of moss and twigs and other natural magical things from their tundra. They soar together to a ceiling beam and look towards one another. Sitting across from one another is a Raven and a Snowy Owl.

  I’m so sick of just lying here. I wish the doc would come by. It feels like I’ve been here since forever. I hate the smell of this place. I got to get out of here. My fuckin’ head pounds.

  These are the only thoughts that come to me while I am lying on my bony mattress. I miss our little cabin by the lake up North. I miss the simple things—the fire glowing all day long, the sound of birds passing through. I miss building my own traps and hearing my little girls coo with their moms. It was a mistake. My mistake. Bringing us all into the city so I could show off. That’s all it really is—just me and my male pride. Me wanting them to see what else the world has to offer. In the end the offerings are pretty slim.

  “Well, here you are, Mr. Husky! I’m Doctor McGrady. Ya got yourself into a fine pickle haven’t ya!”

  In my left eye I see a young, dark-haired man. Curly hair, gold-wired glasses dangling off the tip of his pointed nose. He’s wearing a long white coat and all I can wonder is how old this kid is. I wonder if he’s ever got his dick wet. I sigh and know I have to behave.

  “I’d shake your hand, Doc but I can’t reach out that far. Tell me about my eye?”

  “Your eye will heal up with one hell of an ugly scar. The blade fractured your os spenoidale and a smaller fracture to the os lacrimale.”

  “What’s that in English?”

  “Here and here.” Doc McGrady points to his skull on either side of his right eye.

  “And your sorry nuts will eventually drop back to normal, but for the next long while you’ll need to just get yourself onto the mend. Lots of rest and relaxation. I hope you don’t mind but I don’t see any reason to keep you. You’re staying at the HBC Hotel?” McGrady peers over his swaying rims. I feel like I’m under inspection. I have to be good.

  “Yes. Me and my family.”

  “Your family? Now I’ve heard about your pack. I understand you have three Native women and three little halfies to boot. Is this the truth?”

  “It is, sir. It is. I was just thinking that I’m sorry we ever came down this way—should have stayed up home is what we should have done.”

  Doctor McGrady smiles and says, “Now Mr. Husky, don’t you be frettin’ for bringin’ the ladies down to our end of things. It’s good for them to see the other side and good for your wee ones too. What I’m going do is leave some pain medicine at the nurses’ station for you to take back home with you. Just a moment.” McGrady leans out the doorway calling out, “Nurse Agatha! Nurse Agatha.”

  In strolls polar she-bear. She’s round and rolling towards Doctor McGrady, her yellow eyes are smirking, her tongue swinging like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. I feel my good eye start to twitch as the muscles in both legs begin to cramp. If I could run, I would. Faster than any Arctic hare. I’d zig-zag my way to safety. Agatha—the name suits her just fine.

  “Nurse Agatha, I understand Mr. Husky has been under your care exclusively over the past day or so. You’ve done a fine job.”

  I snort. Both heads turn towards me. I pretend to cough, place one hand on my chest and wave the other in the air explaining that I’m OK. Inside my heart pounds. I would like to take this woman out to a back alley, straighten her arm out and run as much morphine as possible into her veins. This bitch is trouble.

  “I’m leaving some pain pills at the main desk for Mr. Husky to take back home. Please be sure he gets them and also, help him get his clothes on. Remember all patients are rolled out in a wheelchair.”

  “No. No,” I protest. “That’s fine, Doc. I’ll put my pants and shirt on by myself and I’m sure I can walk out of here.”

  Polar she-bears rumbles a low growl.

  “Well, how about this—I stay back and supervise you getting dressed and walk you out myself. You’re quite a legend around these parts, Mr. Husky. I’d appreciate lending a hand to you.”

  “Well, thank you so much, Doctor McGrady. I’ll be happy to leave.”

  “I’m pleased to have been of some help to you, Mr. Husky. I’ll brag about treating you to all the other doctors who didn’t want to take you on as their patient. You’re one hell of a tough son-of-a-gun. They tell me you shot a polar bear from your bed inside a boat one night. Is that true?”

  Polar she-bear stands erect, full height. Her paws clawing the air. Her nostrils burst into round bubbles on either side of her mouth.

  “Sure as hell is, Doc. It sure as hell is.” I stare back at polar she-bear. She stands down. Her shoulders slump and her eyes drop to the floor.

  “I don’t know which one of us was more surprised, me or that bear, but I got her lying across my fireplace at home. You’re welcome to come by and visit her one day.”

 
Doctor McGrady laughs and extends his hand. “You’re one of kind, Mr. Husky. Just one of a kind. That’s all for you, Nurse Agatha. Resume the care of the others on this ward.”

  McGrady and I clasp hands like two long-lost pals while Nurse Agatha waddles from the room.

  Tetuk is looking traditional. Her face is marked with the beauty lines only the Inuit use. She is feeling strong now. She is powered up and ready for anything Keegan would like. Her body is not shivering any longer. She’s ready to play this game once and for all. She is ready to take on this red-headed Scotsman. She is going to win.

  “What’s this shit all over your face?”

  Tetuk smiles and leans in close to Keegan’s face. She lets her tongue roll around her mouth, tasting the plastic of the red lipstick. Keegan grins.

  “Well, we’re all beautiful when our eyes are closed, aren’t we?” says Keegan. Tetuk unbuckles his belt and the only sound in the room is the soft zip from his fly. Tetuk’s eyes hold steady with Keegan’s.

  “Now you’re talkin’,” whispers Keegan. Tetuk’s small hand dives beneath Keegan’s scratchy underwear.

  “Noo jist haud on!” shouts Keegan.

  Tetuk stops. Her eyes ask a question to Keegan.

  “You’re movin’ too quick now! I’m the one in command down here! Got that!” Keegan’s broad hand swoops hard and fast across Tetuk’s face. As the sound of the smack rings out so does one other small, singular, sound: “Hoooot.”

  Keegan looks towards the beam of the boiler room. There sits one lone owl, eyes unblinking, black pupils glaring.

  “What in God’s earth is that thing doin’ in here?” Keegan pulls on Tetuk’s arm and shoves her onto the bed, reaching for a broom at the same time. As he stands on the edge of the wooden frame, a raven swoops from behind, plucking a small clump of red curls.

  “Youch! What the fuck?” Keegan jumps from the bed frame in time to duck the claws of the Snowy Owl.

  “My Gawd—it’s a nightmare!” screams Keegan as the Raven swoops towards him. He darts again. The owl flaps its wings onto the bedpost. Keegan turns around in time to see Tetuk’s feet flee up the stairs.

  “Get back here ya bitch! Ya, fuckers—now look what you’ve gone and done!”

  Raven lets loose a furious “Caw.”

  “I’m not afraid of ya!” Keegan screams. “Not afraid!” He swings the broom above his head in circles, like a batter up to the plate.

  “I’ll get ya both. Ya daft birds!” Keegan takes the stance of a pro baseball player, the broom his mighty bat.

  “Come on! Come at me! Hit ’em where they ain’t!”

  Raven comes at him like a deuce, curving hard to the right. Keegan steps back once and lifts his eyes to the ceiling, “Can’t catch me, can ya? Ya stupid bird!” He touches the dusty floor with the tip of his broom. “Give me another!”

  Snowy Owl glides towards Keegan, in a straight, soft line. Keegan leans in hard towards Snowy Owl and puts all his weight behind the broom. Snowy Owl sails past him and sits on the edge of his bed.

  “Thought you’d play some chin music for me,” Keegan grins. “Well, that’s strike one only.”

  Raven sails through the air like a dart.

  “You’re comin’ right down Broadway, Mr. Raven!” Keegan swings hard. The dirt on the floor forms a Tasmanian Devil dance.

  “Huh, only one left to go and I guess I’m out!” Keegan shakes his shoulders. “You’re next, Mr. Owl—you’re next and I’m gonna smash that head of yours hard. Twin Killing time!”

  Snowy Owl lopes towards Keegan. The room has moved into slow motion and the screams begin. Raven is sitting on Keegan’s head, her claws sinking into his skull. Keegan’s pores are small geysers of blood-red shooting towards the ceiling, spigots on full. Snowy Owl sits on Keegan’s left shoulder, wrapping both broad wings in circles over his eyes. Keegan’s hard screams become slow whimpers. The hum of the boiler room chugs along as always.

  “Tetuk. Thank God you’re here!” Husky reaches out for his most beautiful wife and hugs her close to his chest.

  “I’ve missed ya,” he murmurs into her hair. “Missed all of ya so very much.” He can’t stop holding her and together they rock back and forth.

  Husky forces himself to step back from Tetuk, “Turqavik?” He asks and nods at the same time. Tetuk nods and smiles back. Shouts of happiness ricochet around the room like a stone skipping across still water. Alaq and Keenaq close the boiler room door and join the circle hug.

  Alaq tucks a tuft of red hair into her pocket, “Iksarikpuq!” she exclaims with a happy smile.

  “Husky” Harris was a trapper, an HBC Factor at Poorfish Lake, and a man who assimilated “backwards” from non-Inuit to Inuit life. He died while still serving that historic company. Husky is a man I only know about from stories and snippets, for Husky was also my grandfather.

  This account is just part of what may have happened on that glorious trip, a time of fun, and a time of family for Husky, but a time of shame for the HBC company men like Keighley. This story examines the representation of Inuit women outside of the tundra and as an Inuk woman and writer, I believe that many of these representations remain alive today.

  My Sisters and I

  1

  I look into the sky and see the geese returning. A smile creeps up onto my face. I know that soon my sisters and I will gather the down and eat the eggs, warm from the nest. I will feel the hot yolk slither and slide down my throat and into my belly. It brings great happiness to my heart. I know that there will be cheerfulness in my tiny camp. My camp, with my three mothers and father and sisters.

  The air is fresh with spring. The smell of ice lingers in it but that does not dampen my spirits. I return from my morning outing, the moving of bladder and bowels. Contented and excited for the new season. Winter can feel like forever and this past winter has been long.

  The snows had come, all kinds of it, but we had managed. My father had found things for us to eat even though the caribou had not run. We lived on everything we could find and had survived.

  We aren’t like the others of our kind. We don’t even live with them. We go to the others only in times of starvation. In times of hunger, otherwise we stay out on the land. On our own. People come to us instead. We have visitors and the mothers love having company drop in for a few nights. All kinds of people come. Even white men. Men with different coloured beards. They are trappers. People from far away who think they can make some of that thing called “money.” It is made of paper and sometimes shiny rocks. I have never understood it. It means nothing to me.

  I understand the times of work and play. The times of getting up early in the day to gather what is needed. To melt snow to water. To get tiny bits of wood in the spring. To eat what is brought to me. Boiled and warm or raw and cold. I understand the sky and all it holds. The moon, the stars and what they mean to each other. I know what it is like to be hungry and and to be full and to work on hides to make clothes.

  Today the sky is full of geese returning from their winter home. Welcoming friends who have been away for a season. It is like a homecoming of people who have been lost from one another. It is today. Today is all anyone has. Today is all that ever mattered. To think of more than today is wrong.

  I bend into the tent and whisper into one of my sister’s ears, “Uvunngapuq.” My sister, older, rounder and lazier than me, continues to sleep.

  “Sister, come see,” I whisper, “Come see! The birds! They are here with us!”

  Puhuliak rolls over, looks at me and says, “Go back to sleep. The sun is not even here yet.”

  How can anyone sleep through such an event?

  “Sister, come. Come see them. Come say ‘tunngahugit’.”

  Puhuliak grins, her eyes making tiny angler lines even when they are closed.

  “Not me. I won’t.” I know that she means it. Never can she be awakened. Sleep is her friend. A friend she spends a lot of time with.

  Hikwa has overheard the good news.
She sits up from beneath her caribou robe. She stretches her arms. Hikwa is different from Puhuliak. She is small and lean. She loves to move at all times. Always busy. Always going. Never still. In one quick move, she darts from beneath the robes. Pulls her skin boots to the top of her knees and grabs my hand. I love this most about Hikwa. I love that she will do anything at any time. Our mothers say that Sister Hikwa is not altogether in this world. She lives in another place most of the time. I don’t believe that. Hikwa is the most fun person I have ever known. Hikwa can see and understand what others can’t. The mothers may say that she doesn’t live in this world but I know that Hikwa is a shaman. She has special powers. She has special strengths.

  Together we giggle across the tundra. Today we are one with the geese.

  The geese circle above, and we call back to them, “Aruk, aruk.” From above the geese see two tiny dots flapping their arms in unison. They see two little girls rolling on the small willowed hills.

  The happiness of the morning lingers as the sun peeks into their world.

  2

  It always stops there. My dream. I never get to see the rest of that day. It happened. I remember it still as I sit here in this place. This place filled with rules. The white people call it a school. My father said we had to come here. All three of us. Why? That’s the part I never understand, why he sent us away from him. This place is different. We sleep off the ground. We have all been given strange names. Names that make no sense. Names that make me feel different. I don’t know who I am anymore.

  They speak French and English here. I don’t know what French is. I only nod when I am asked something. Puhuliak is now called Suzanne. Hikwa is Margarite. I am Therese. Once we were, Puhuliak, Hikwa and Angavidiak. Now we are these other girls.

  The women here wear long robes made of light cloth. Qallunaaqtaq. They make us wear the same thing, only our robes are short. They put cold, hard coverings on our feet and tell us they are “shoes.” We drink water from under the ground, filled in a brown wooden circle. We sit at a table, in chairs that hurt my back. The food is white like these people. It’s like filling your mouth with clouds. Swallowing quickly means I can leave the table sooner.