Tusaayaksat Magazine – Spring 2019 by Tusaayaksat Magazine

TUSAAYAKSAT MAGAZINE / SPRING 2019

STORIES THAT NEED TO BE HEARD

THE INUVIALUIT ARCHIVE

The Future

of INUVIALUIT

TUSAAYAKSAT UKIUMI

PUBLISHER Inuvialuit Communications Society EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Stewart Burnett HEAD DESIGNER Vanessa Hunter

TUSAAYAKSAT IN THE SPRING

EDITORIAL TEAM WRITER/PHOTOGRAPHER Stewart Burnett COPY EDITOR Casey Lessard INUVIALUKTUN TRANSLATOR Albert Elias CONTRIBUTORS Tyra Cockney-Goose, Charles Arnold, Leigha Keogak SPECIAL THANKS TO Maria Storr and the early childhood intervention team, Gloria Iatridis, Edmonton Inuvialuit, IRC Native Hockey, the community of Sachs Harbour BUSINESS OFFICE Inuvialuit Communications Society 292 MacKenzie Rd PO Box 1704 Inuvik, NT X0E 0T0 MANAGER Dez Loreen OFFICE ADMINISTRATOR Roseanne Rogers BOARD OF DIRECTORS PRESIDENT, INUVIK Lucy Kuptana VICE PRESIDENT, TUKTOYAKTUK Debbie Raddi TREASURER, ULUKHAKTOK Joseph Haluksit AKLAVIK DIRECTOR Colin Gordon PAULATUK DIRECTOR Denise Wolki SACHS HARBOUR DIRECTOR Jean Harry

Hot in the news the past few months has been grievances of the Inuvialuit ‘99ers. Few seem to agree on the origin of the name, but it is the term used for Inuvialuit living outside of the Inuvialuit Settlement Region. Because governance of the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation is set up so that directors from each of the communities vote for the chair, and only people living in those communities can vote for directors, some ‘99ers feel disenfranchised by not being able to have an active role in the political ongoings in the ISR. Nearly half of Inuvialuit now reside outside of the ISR. In this issue, we interviewed several in Edmonton. Previously, we profiled more than a dozen in Whitehorse.

ON THE COVER Tianna Gordon-Ruben drum dances in front of the bonfire at the 2019 Inuvik Sunrise Festival. On the back is a silhouette of a child climbing a snowbank in front of the fire.

With the economic state of the North and the opportunities available for young people in the south, it is likely that Inuvialuit will continue leaving the territory to pursue their dreams. What it means to be Inuvialuit might also be a widening tent. In this and past issues, we’ve profiled many unique urban characters, from actresses to models and beyond. At the same time, we’ve talked to some true culture carriers and members of long-running traditional families in Paulatuk and Sachs Harbour. It was fortunate to find in our Edmonton interviews two unique stories of “lost” Inuvialuit, adopted out of the North at a young age only to rediscover their heritage as adults.

CONTENT Unless otherwise specified, writing and photography in this issue is by Stewart Burnett.

SUBSCRIPTIONS E-mail subscription inquiries to icsfinance@northwestel.net or phone +1 (867) 777 2320 FUNDING MADE POSSIBLE BY Inuvialuit Regional Corporation GNWT (Education, Culture and Employment) GET SOCIAL Follow us on Facebook for live event coverage and photography that doesn’t make the magazine!

So what does it mean to be Inuvialuit? At the Inuit Circumpolar Council’s general assembly this past summer in Alaska, Inuit the Arctic over were adamant there is no one “true” way to be Inuit: they are all of the above. This is no political call: the IRC shall execute the Inuvialuit Final Agreement as the elected directors deem appropriate. IRC Chair Duane Smith, in our Q&A, elucidates why changing the voting structure in the IFA is a can of worms the organization would rather avoid. But beyond voting rights, this is a call for the global Inuvialuit community to stay connected. There are about 165,000 Inuit on Earth. Fewer than five per cent of them are Inuvialuit. It is a beautiful, unique culture in the world, but one that is far too small to set up purity tests or allow the tides to pull apart.

QUYANAINNI THANK YOU, Stewart Burnett Editor-in-Chief

TUSAAYAKSAT MEANS “STORIES AND VOICES THAT NEED TO BE HEARD.” WE CELEBRATE INUVIALUIT PEOPLE, CULTURE AND HERITAGE. OUR MISSION: To empower, celebrate, communicate, heal and bond. To bring you the best coverage of our news, vibrant culture and perspectives.

CONTENTS 2

WELCOMING BACK THE SUN

TRADITION IN THE DARK

URBAN INUVIALUIT

THE MYSTERIOUS SIVULLIRMIUT

Q&A WITH DUANE SMITH

SENATOR MARGARET DAWN ANDERSON

LEARNING THROUGH PLAY

OLIVIA KATE IATRIDIS

MELODY TEDDY

LIVING DESPITE ANXIETY

72 80

2019 IRC CUP EMBRACE YOUR INNER SELF

WELCOMING BACK THE

SUN

BANGS OF THE DRUM LEAD TO BANGS OF For an hour, they performed in the freezing weather fireworks as Inuvialuit welcome back the sun to their on a backdrop of a giant, 1,000-pallet bonfire. communities. Afterward, everyone gathered around the inferno Inuvik celebrates the celestial body’s return through to stay warm while a lengthy fireworks display its annual sunrise festival, held in early January. heralded the sun’s return. This year’s was special because it featured a combined on-ice performance by the Tuktoyaktuk Siglitmiut Drummers and Dancers, Inuvik Drummers and Dancers and Aklavik Delta Drummers and Dancers.

Beyond the festivities, the event is a reminder that spring is not far away, the days are getting longer, the land will be lit up again and geese aren’t that far off. Here’s to the light of our lives.

TRADITION IN THE DARK CULTURE IN SACHS HARBOUR

ONLY A FEW MORE THAN 100 PEOPLE PRESENTLY

live in Sachs Harbour, the smallest and in many ways most isolated Inuvialuit community, situated alone on the giant Banks Island, itself a bird sanctuary. Each person could claim almost 1,000 square kilometres of the island’s space to him- or herself, should everyone spread out perfectly. For each person, there are roughly 650 muskoxen on the island. Even getting in and out of the hamlet can be a struggle. The one-hour flight between Sachs and Inuvik is often delayed or cancelled due to weather. It is a true Arctic land, complete with an unforgiving climate and treeless geography. Activities in winter centralize in the recreation centre, while weekend bingo always brings out a crowd. At Christmas, the school gym easily hosts most of the community. A feast of turkey, cupcakes and all manner of sides warms everybody up before Santa and his elves, who look suspiciously like the local RCMP officers, give each child and elder a present, as relatives take pictures and applaud. In other seasons, the town can be barren, as hunters, fishers and campers leave to chase their prey and live on the land. Hunting geese is the star of spring, while summer has brought a new catch to shore: beluga whales have started visiting the island in recent years. Polar bears are frequent visitors, for which residents keep a watch, and after rare weather occurrences, foxes have been known to overrun the town. Winter rain can freeze shut the homes of their prey, the lemmings. A child in Sachs is a child of the community. The family trees are so outstretched that it is difficult to find people with whom you have no relation. Though painful, tragedy brings people together like nothing else, for it affects everyone in some way. Not much is for sale. The local Co-op holds the basics, including the always-popular slushies, and the rest of the town’s economy is enough to get by, stay warm and keep the water running. Those born here are forever connected, for there is very little privacy and one person’s business can quickly become everybody’s. Social pressures exist, as they do everywhere. In Sachs, relief is found in maintaining important relationships and the freedom of the land.

One of the matriarchs of the town, born and raised, Donna Keogak is hard at work every morning over the holidays cooking and baking for Christmas, her children still sleeping for several hours. She left Sachs to go to school in Inuvik for four years, but that was it. While mixing her cookie batter, Donna talks about her home.

DONNA KEOGAK I feel safe here. You live a traditional life here. On top of that, it’s home. That’s all I can say. It’s home. In other communities, there can be drugs and alcohol and kids running around. Here, our kids could be running around, but you always know somebody’s going to be watching them. Our community might be divided in politics sometimes, but if something happens, the whole community pulls together. One thing that’s really important to the community is children. Everybody looks after the kids. It’s not just one person or one parent. Everybody takes care of the kids. Any child could come into a house and warm up or sit around and visit, and they’ll feel safe. That’s how I grew up. I was always welcome in any house in the community. I didn’t have to worry. Sure, there are wild animals that come around. That’s when you notice the parents and community really watch out for the kids. They make sure nobody gets hurt. There’s almost no crime with our youth, except the odd one here or there. When I was a kid, we had no electricity. We had no skidoos. We stayed in houses, but the heat was only from stoves. If we wanted to go visit somebody, I remember my parents hitching up the dogs and putting us all in the sled to go across town and say hi for Easter or Christmas. The kids at the time, all of us, we lived outside, not like the kids today. A lot of kids stay inside, play computers, watch TV or sit on their electronics now. I know more and more adults are doing that too, but when we grew up, we never had that. It was something when we actually seen a TV.

I didn’t even know what a TV was until I went to Inuvik and stayed with my aunts and uncles. We live for the seasons around here. In the winter, most of the time we stay home, sew and work around the house. After winter comes the spring. That’s when all of the kids go out on the land with their parents. That’s how all my kids grew up. Every spring, starting in March or April, we start going to the camp. We fish the lakes until the geese come. Then we go to the river or farther up north to hunt geese. After the spring, we wait until the ice goes, and then in summertime we go out hunting seals, and now we’re starting to get whales, so we go hunt belugas. After summer is fall, where we go out and set nets at our cabins and we travel around the land. That’s what I mean we live for the seasons. Spring to fall is family time. Wintertime, there’s not very much to do, except for long ago my dad and them used to trap during winter. Today, there’s not much trapping. There are a few people who still do it but not many anymore. My neighbour, Norman Anikina, still traps. All my kids know how to put up tents, set up camp and go hunting. They might not be the perfect shot, but at least they’ll hunt! Our culture is staying strong in our community. For a while, we noticed it was starting to go, but it’s been getting stronger over the past few years. A lot of the younger kids didn’t know how to sew, so we started a sewing class. A lot of the girls in the community know how to sew for their whole family now. Everybody knows how to live off the land, because it’s how everybody in this community grew up. We used to have to shut down the school because this place is a ghost town in the springtime, when the fishing and geese hunting comes. My key to happiness is grandchildren. As long as the family’s close together, I’m happy. I’m lucky I’ve got most of my brothers and my sister here. I’ve got another sister in Inuvik, one in Norman Wells and one in Whitehorse, but most of my other brothers stayed here. We’re a very close family.

Left to right: Leigha Keogak, Andrea Keogak, Hailey Kuptana, John Keogak, Donna Keogak, Emery Keogak, Angella Keogak and Jasmine Keogak.

Our dad taught us a lot of things. One thing is to make sure we stay close together, and that’s what we’ve done over the years. He showed us how to be strong. We go through hard times, but if we stick together, nothing’s going to change. It’s just going to get better. When my dad passed away, our whole family got together and we started travelling. We have a family trip every year where we travel somewhere different on the island.

My most exciting hunt was the first time we got a whale as a family. We were camping over at Kellet Point. There were my family and two of my brothers and their families. We watched the whales come in, so the guys went out and chased them. The women were at the beach trying to tell them where to go. We seen all these whales and then they were lucky to get one. When we were younger, we never had whales around here. It’s just over the past few years we got belugas.

We didn’t grow up with our language. Most of the kids don’t know our language. That’s one thing that hurts, because we can’t understand a lot of the elders. But it was the choice that our parents made, because they went to residential school. Them being only able to speak their language was really bad for them, so they chose not to put us through that.

My advice for young people is stay strong. Not only in your life, but your culture and heritage. Value your family, friendships and your community as a whole. That’s one thing we have to do is get together as a community as a whole. We were a stronger community at one time. Over the years, it has slowly dissipated. But like I said, if something happened, we would come together.

As Donna cooks, her husband, John Keogak, naps on the couch. He was up at 2 a.m. tinkering with the skidoo and doing odd jobs around the house. Donna’s morning pancakes put him right back to sleep. He gets up, with a coffee, to talk about his love for the land.

JOHN KEOGAK I was born in Aklavik, 1958. We lived in the Delta for most of my childhood. My mother wasn’t going to put me into school, as I was the only boy and my sisters were in school. Every winter, I’d be with her all alone while the girls were in school. She wanted me to be a trapper. Mr. Holman, the administrator for Stringer Hall, talked to her when she went to pick up the girls for summer break. He told her I wasn’t going to be a trapper all my life and things are going to change. Reluctantly, she put me in school. My mother passed away in 1966. I was adopted to Peter and Shirley Esau in Sachs Harbour in 1967. When I first moved here, I fell in love with the place. There were no trees. You could see as far as you could. Being born in the Delta, you saw a lot of willows and trees. Moving up here in ’67 was paradise. Nice clean gravel, no trees in your way. I just fell in love with the place and have been living here ever since. I trapped for about five years after moving here. Then everything started coming in, telephones, TVs. Trapping just sort of lost interest. Everyone started working. I found a job working in the hamlet here hauling water with Wayne Elanik. It was tough some days but it was work, and it paid. We worked together for a while and I stuck with the hamlet for a few years and worked for the health centre. In 1992, I decided I wanted to be my own boss. Like being on the land, you’re your own boss and can do what you want. I started a business in ‘92 and still have it today. We just do maintenance jobs, odds and ends, contracts. I always wanted to be that way, ever since I started trapping, to be independent. It was not always a happy life. There were

struggles along the way. I was homeless for a year or two growing up, travelling around for a few years until I started working for Dome Petroleum (Canadian Marine Drilling). From there, everything picked up, working on the drill ships. I worked for three years and then got back into my business after making a few bucks. Now that we’re all settled, I’m at my age now so I’m looking for retirement. Hopefully I’ll live out on the land, raising up my grandchildren, whom I adore. I think they’re going to be the ones who keep me going from now on. I look forward to that. The job I do is just on-call maintenance, not an eight-hour-a-day job, contracts you can do any time. It allows me to do what I want in the summertime and wintertime, travelling-wise anyway. I hire people around here to work for me. That way I have more time on the land. I live on the land. That’s my life. We take every opportunity to do our hunting each season. Springtime we do our spring hunting, fishing; falltime, we go out seal hunting, get stuff ready for winter like oil and dry meat, dog food; summertime, we like to travel and explore. We try to do an annual trip every year with family, go somewhere and just enjoy the land. That’s the big part of living up here. It’s such a great place. We’re isolated and things move with the time, the plane schedules and the summer barge, but those are things we’ve learned to live with. We just make our own living up here and try to do our best. There are so many hunting stories up here. Everything is exciting when you go out. You can’t just pick one. Everything is just totally awesome when you’re out on the land. It’s just a great experience. It’s something we were born with, raised up with. Back in the day, that’s all we did. We had to hunt and trap to survive. It’s always been in our blood and it’s something that we cherish now, in this time anyway where everything is technology. When we first got our whales a few years back, that was exciting. I had hunted whales before but not up here. The last whale harvest was way back in the early days and the whales never did come by here before, not this close anyway.

We knew they’d go up to the end of the island somewhere, but why we never saw them around here, I don’t know. Now it seems like there are more of them around. I don’t know what’s driving them up here. I grew up eating muktuk. It’s a delicacy. We try to get it from the Delta, Tuk, that area, but now that we can hunt them ourselves, it’s exciting. It’s fun, something to look forward to every summer, something different. No one’s really hunting seals anymore, except for maybe doing samples for the Department of Fisheries and Oceans or whoever. We do a bit of hunting just for our dogs. A few seals will get them through the winter, which is good because there are not many muskox close by anymore. There are not many young people interested in living on the land. Sure they like going out hunting and that, but actually living out on the land is tough. It’s a lot of work. If you enjoy the work, you love what you’re doing. Kids nowadays, even my kids, are not as interested as we were when we were growing up. It was our life. There was no TV, no phones, no nothing. That’s all we did. Growing up we played outside. We pretended we were hunting or building something. Nowadays, there’s nothing. All you see is a hand and a phone and people talking to themselves. There was one time we went out polar bear hunting on a white day, fresh snow, snowing. I pursued this polar bear and I went through the ice. Well, it wasn’t ice. It was just slush, like a big open pond. It was covered in fresh snow and you couldn’t tell if it was open or young ice. You couldn’t see the dark area. Soon as my skidoo went on it, it sunk. I had my rifle on my back and we were maybe 20 feet from the ice in the water. I blacked out. I knew I was trying to keep myself up. I blacked out and next thing I knew I was sitting on the ice. I looked and I could see my trail crawling off the ice. I think I was saved that day, because there was no way I could’ve got out of that slush. It was just snow over the water. But I crawled out of it. I was looking at my tracks and I was sitting on the ice and my partner, Floyd Lennie, came over and asked me where’s my skidoo. He thought I

was just sitting behind the ice waiting for the polar bear, and he realized I lost my skidoo and I was in the water. Only my feet got wet. We ended up coming home, put a pair of mitts on my feet. That was a close call that time. I think I was taken care of. There’s no way I could have crawled out of that slush. How I got on top of it, I don’t know. But I know who. Another time, it wasn’t hunting, but I was in Inuvik and we came in on a charter and we crashed. Coming in for a landing, one engine quit. We were just high enough that when the engine quit, it hit the ground on the wheel side. The wheel went through the wing and we skidded to a stop. If we were any higher, I think we would have flipped right over. That was another close call. We just skidded about 60 feet or so. There’s a propeller part in town someone found, I think that’s probably from the plane. Hunting-wise, we were always taught to be safe, not take chances. There was one scary moment in the summertime. Me and my brother-in-law, Richard, we were out hunting in our boat and we landed on a chunk of ice that we shouldn’t have, because it wasn’t stable. It cracked and cracked and went so far, then stopped and we backed out of there. After we got out, the ice just rolled over. That was a scary time. Never again. After that, we always land on flat ice. I think now is the time to teach kids how to live out on the land, because who knows what’s going to happen with how the economy is going. We’re looking at something that could be bigger than the Great Depression. If the whole economy shuts down, we’re going to have to live off the land. It’s going to be tough. It’ll make it look like our ancestors had a holiday compared to what we’re going to go through, I think. They should know it just to keep the tradition, too. But it’s hard. You might as well talk to the phone instead of the person. Technology now has totally taken over everything. Living on the land is my philosophy for happiness. You get the land in you and it’s like being part of the Earth. Surviving day to day and being happy is how we were brought up. Always think happy, be positive and help each other. That’s the best way to live.

Norman Anikina

Fifty feet away is Norman Anikina’s house. He’s relatively new to town, having moved to Sachs Harbour in 2008 after growing up in Tuktoyaktuk, and is one of the few around who still traps. He still remembers his first time out on his father’s line.

NORMAN ANIKINA It was April, when it’s time to finish your trapping season. I remember the first trip was so cold. I was young then, five or six. Even though I was small and really cold, I couldn’t wait to see the next trap. When my dad would stop to fix one, I would run around to warm up. There’s something about trapping. It’s a way of life for me. I could work. I could go to college or school. But for me, trapping, I just love it. Trappers are a dying breed nowadays. There are not many around. It’s a cold and tough life. You dress up in the morning in the dark and you’ve got to go out. You travel a long ways and endure the cold. Sometimes, you get frostbite on your

face. There’s just something about it I like. It’s something different, I guess. When I was growing up in Tuk, I used to sell my catch to be able to buy more materials – gas, shells, bullets. I always spent the money I had for more trapping or hunting gear. I never bought a house or truck or boat. I always wanted some extra gas for the next trip. My life growing up in Tuk was really good. I started going out on the land with my dad in Grade 5 or 6. From there on, I continued hunting and trapping with him. I don’t think I went back to school until I was 21, when I went back to get my education. I still maintained the trapping, hunting and fishing. I wanted the best of both worlds. I wanted to do my trapping and hunting, yet I had to have a job to survive. I moved away in 1986 when I got married. I went to a Bible college in Pangnirtung for two years. I

didn’t finish the program. I moved with my wife and family back to Tuk and then to Fort Smith, where I went to college and worked for 11 years. I still maintained my hunting and trapping. In 2008, after about 20 years away from the North, we moved to Sachs Harbour, where my wife, Sharan, is from. I love the outdoors, but it’s a hard life. You can’t just go out and expect to catch animals. You have to learn it. It starts just like kindergarten and you work your way up. You never stop learning out on the land. Even today, I’m still learning after 40 years. Living off the land is freedom for me. It’s a peace I can’t explain. There are no worries out on the land, but you’ve got to know it. There’s so much that can go wrong. If you break down, you have to have your spare parts or something to fix your machine. If you get caught in a blow, you have to have a tent or shelter to stay in until the blow’s over and you can get home. You have to know the land and the places to go. There are good places to hunt, fish or trap, but you have to know the trails, the valleys, the lakes. There are some rivers or creeks with open water and you have to know where they are. You have to know where the big cliffs and hills are. It wasn’t trapping, but one of my closest calls on the land was at work when we went out on the land for 10 days. We were on the Firth River in northern Yukon. It had rained for four days in Ivvavik National Park and the water level came up, which made the rapids really turbulent. My partner and I were going down the river in a raft and got to one really bad spot. We stopped and assessed the river to see how bad it was. We figured we could shoot it with the raft. My buddy was on the oars and I was in the front of the boat. As soon as we went down the rapid, I got thrown off. My buddy is still on the oars trying to control the raft while I’m hanging onto the bowline in the water. I’m getting swirled around this way, that way, hanging on. For dear life, I hung onto that boat. Couldn’t breathe. The canyon walls were right there and I had to pull myself under the boat so I wouldn’t get squished between the boat and the wall. Then I

looked around and let go of the boat when we had passed that big whirlpool. I was able to bob down to a little eddy and my buddy came down to pick me up with the raft. I was 26 or 27 at the time. Up here in Sachs Harbour, there are not too many people, which is good. You can go out and get your animal. In Tuk, there are lots of people and lots of competition. Sometimes you go out and might not get anything because other people beat you to it. But here, there’s lots of wildlife, lots of caribou, muskoxen, fox, geese in the spring, plenty of fish. A person can survive on this island. I always look forward to winter, when the fall starts to freeze. I get excited because I love trapping. I don’t have a big line. I have several traps that keep me busy and going. Then there’s geese hunting in the spring, and fishing in the spring and fall. I skin the foxes I trap and sell the hides. My wife, Sharan, she makes fur hats and mitts out of the hides. It’s how we make our money. Some people might just buy the pelt for fur or hanging on the wall. I have four boys who live down south, and I have tried to instil the culture in them as my father did for me. Our way of life, trapping and hunting, is on the decline. I see for the young people, it’s always their phone or their little gadgets. It’s sad to say. But for me, to maintain our way of life is to keep on doing it and don’t stop. I try to teach some people how to trap. There are several young fellas I’ve tried to teach in town. I’d advise young people to stick to your college, stick to your school, because our trapping and hunting way of life is a thing gone by. But if a young person is really keen on learning the way our ancestors did, then I can teach them what I know. Even I don’t know much. There are a lot of people who know a lot more than me, but I try my best out there. Each person has his own happiness. For me, the key is to be content with what I have. I may not have a lot, but I’m content with the basics. I try not to covet or wish for any other stuff. It’s no good to wish, because it just spoils it. I work hard and try to get what I need.

SACHS HARBOUR CHRISTMAS FEAST 2018

On Christmas Day, despite the cold, families load up gifts on their sleds and skidoo around town to visit their aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins and all friends and relatives. There are no scheduled appointments here. You just show up, and it’s no surprise to anyone when you do. The invitation is always open, especially on holidays. Joey and Margaret Carpenter are a welcoming couple. Margaret works on her embroidery while Joey cooks a meal for his dog, whose barking prompts an apology from Joey.

JOEY CARPENTER I was born here and left at four to go to school. You know the story. I came back as a teenager and lived here on and off, before coming back for good about 30 years ago. If you like going out on the land, this is the best place to be. Go out the door, jump on the skidoo

and it’s right there. You don’t have to go too far. I’m getting too old to hunt much now. I used to hunt with dog teams. There’s a lot of preparation with dogs. You have to look after them, make sure they’re well fed. You’ve got to have a sled, dog line, harness. Hitching up your dogs and going out on the land, I don’t know how to describe it. It’s a good feeling. In the dog-team days, 10-day trips were the minimum. In those days, we looked at time differently. Everything’s fast now. On a skidoo, you can go to hunting grounds in a couple hours and probably come back the same day. With a dog team, it takes longer. One time, I went hunting by skidoo with my older brother, his son and one of our cousins to the Nelson Head area, about 100 miles from here along the coast. I was hunting polar bear and we crossed a crack in the ice less than a mile offshore. My brother and my cousin looked

through the crack to check the current. We were so desperate to catch a polar bear that we crossed that crack and reached the rough ice about half a mile away. We got on the rough ice and started looking around, and when we got back, the crack had stretched to about 30 yards wide. That’s how fast it opened.

a scary night. In those days, 40 or 50 below was quite common. We were lucky the wind died down and we drifted back towards land. The next morning, the ice had frozen over and was thick enough to cross back over. We were lucky, really lucky. And on the way back, we got a polar bear.

So we got stranded and drifted out all night. There was a big ocean not too far from us. It was

Joey says he’s 17 years sober, and his advice to live a happy life is not to drink. He calls it a blessing not to have to deal with the repercussions of drinking.

Margaret Carpenter

Margaret’s hands are always busy with her embroidery, but her fascination started with simply observing.

MARGARET CARPENTER When my mother was sewing or cutting out material, I’d always be there. I’d sit there and watch. I remember far back when my parents lived in a log house. For light, they’d use whale oil lamps. Long ago, we had no power, no furnace, no running water. Just a wood stove.

My sisters’ friends used to gather. There were about four of them, and they’d all be sewing, doing their embroidery for special occasions like Christmas, Easter or a wedding. They’d be doing their embroidery for shoes or parkas, and I’d stay up on the bed just watching them. I only really got into sewing myself after I got married. I’m originally from Tuktoyaktuk. Sachs Harbour is nice and peaceful, quiet. I like travelling on the land in springtime, going fishing or geese hunting.

I worked at the nursing station for 15 years and retired two years back. Now I just stay home and do my sewing. It keeps me occupied. I like the people here. They’re friendly. They help us out so much with food and whatever we need. They’re always there. Everybody’s willing to give a hand when we need it. They bring us ice and native food. They share, and that feels so good in a small community like this. It took me about a year to stop feeling so homesick. I overcame that by getting busy working and sewing. After more than 20 years, I feel like the community has become part of my family. I like that feeling inside, to be wanted, needed. It made me try harder. I was kind of a shy person, and I overcame that during the years I was up here. It may look like nothing’s happening up here, but there are many things to do. It’s peaceful, it’s comfortable. Down south, everything’s too fast. Always rushing here or rushing there. If you live up north, you don’t have to rush. We take our time doing things. By the time it’s time for you to go somewhere, you have everything done and you’ve got time to go to your appointment or meeting.

Day to day is always a struggle. Everything is so expensive. Things don’t come easy. We’ve got to work for it. There’s no way we can save money in these small communities. I think it is more expensive than down south. We’ve got to make do with what we have. It’s a good thing we’re natives, because we’re used to our kind of food – fish, seal, whale, caribou, muskox. You can’t save a penny in these small communities. We live from day to day. We’re happy so long as we have a roof over our head, food to eat. That’s all that matters. That’s our survival up north. Those are only five stories. For such a small place, Sachs Harbour is wealthy in many ways, from abundant animals to wide-open land and community resilience. It might be slower than a city in the south, but that doesn’t mean life is easy. Through love for the land and their relationships with each other, the people find a way to make it work. That’s life in Ikahuak, ‘where you go across to.’

U R BA N

INUVIALUIT A DA P T I N G TO C I T Y L I F E I N E D M O N TO N

IT CAN BE EASY TO FORGET THAT NEARLY HALF of Inuvialuit live outside of the settlement region. Whether they go for work, school or simply to explore the world, they’re no less Inuvialuit than those still in the homeland. We met up with some of our friends and family living in Edmonton, which is often seen as the southern hub of the Western Arctic world. During our interviews, we asked what it’s like being an urban Inuvialuk, if they’ve had any difficulty staying in touch with their culture, what their biggest challenges have been throughout life and if they have any advice for younger Inuvialuit thinking of making the jump. There was a resounding feeling after it all: the need to connect the Inuvialuit community beyond the settlement region.

INUVIK

ELIZABETH HUNTER My name is Elizabeth Hunter, and I am an Inuvialuit beneficiary from Inuvik. I am a mother of two and I am currently an undergrad student at the University of Alberta, working towards a BA in Political Science with a minor in Native Studies with the goal to become an Indigenous liaison in the Northern communities. I have been back and forth between Inuvik and Edmonton my entire life. I have family both here and there but the North has always been home. Edmonton is currently providing me with the opportunity to attend university, which now that my children are old enough, I am able to do. Having immediate family nearby has made it easier being away from the North. I couldn’t do it without my support. Growing up in the North and having that exposure to my roots and culture was crucial in helping shape who I am today. Each time I moved south, it proved to be challenging in ways that only someone who has gone through it can understand. It was the hardest when I first moved at 12 years old. That was really tough, as you are no longer surrounded by people who grew up the same way you did. People had a lot of (sometimes inappropriate) questions when they would learn where I came from. I found I started to take on the role of being an educator without even really trying.

I was walking in two worlds and had been given an opportunity to not only teach others about our culture but learn more for myself. I believe by doing that I was able to preserve my culture in a place that sometimes tries to shame you for it. Although I found myself feeling homesick for the North very regularly, I have learned that I can honour this feeling by educating myself. The homesick feeling lessens each time I learn a little more. It lessens when I embrace the resiliency of my people and I remember where I come from. Being an urban Inuvialuk became easier for me when I recognized my ability to stay true to who I am regardless of my surroundings. I am the survivor of challenges of all kinds. Challenges I feel are far too abundant in the North. Challenges I feel like aren’t talked about enough. I am learning more that these challenges are largely to do with the intergenerational trauma that the residential schools left people, people like my grandmother, who inevitably shared those traumas with my mother. It’s been a trickle-down effect. I guess the biggest challenge for me would have been finding balance to heal from these traumas and be present as a mother while I do so. My children are my anchor and I decided that the traumas end with them. It hasn’t been an easy process, but

I find choosing to see what the challenges could teach me and trying to figure out how I can apply them to my life to help others has been very helpful. In the face of these challenges, I have learned how humility, love and forgiveness are the answer to all. I have learned how resilient I am, how empathetic I am and how I can heal rather than continue to carry the hurt that was never mine to begin with. I feel that I have learned there is healing in vulnerability. I choose to be an open book with my struggles because if my story can help even one person see that they aren’t alone in the challenges they face, then I feel they served a purpose. For other Inuvialuit, remember that it is possible to overcome adversity. It is possible to find your footing in a world you may feel you weren’t made for, a world you maybe weren’t spiritually prepared for. You have the strength of all of your ancestors who survived the unimaginable behind you, and you are worthy. My advice to our Indigenous youth, the urban Indigenous specifically, is to never let anyone tell you who you are. You know that best. Remember that when you submerge yourself into your culture, it is then that you can use it as your power. I believe it is then that you will see your true strength and ability to flourish.

PAULATUK

TIMOTHY WARREN RUBEN When I was 16, I moved from Paulatuk to Fort Smith for high school. I got my diploma from Paul William Kaeser High School and moved to Grande Prairie for college. I met my wife there, and we moved about an hour outside of Edmonton in 2010. Growing up, I did a lot of hunting right from a young age, about five or six years old. I was out with my grandparents pretty much from February until the wind or the cold brought us back home. I was getting my own food, fish and caribou, whale hunting, picking eggs. Now I call it hunting at the metal mountains. The grocery store is where I get all my meat. What I eat is probably the biggest difference in my life. Because I moved away when young, I’ve slowly transitioned to the city atmosphere. I went from Paulatuk, which has about 320 people, to Fort Smith, which at the time had about 2,500 people, to Grand Prairie, about 50,000 people, and then to Edmonton, which is one of the biggest cities in Canada. If I jumped right into

Edmonton from Paulatuk, I think I would have been a little scared, but I’ve always said Inuit have to adapt. If we didn’t know how to adapt, I don’t think we’d have survived in the North. As they say, you can take the Inuit out of the territory, but you can’t take the Inuit out of the person. I have to accept that I don’t live that life anymore. I grew up hunting nine to 10 months of the year. That’s a big life change. I loved it so much growing up. If I wasn’t out with my grandparents, I was with my dad or brother or uncle Steve. But I’ve taken every challenge head on. I won’t let fear hold me back. I’m afraid of heights, but that won’t stop me from putting Christmas lights up. This is my home. I had my oldest son, Adam, and at that point, most parents stop thinking of themselves. It’s about their kids. Wherever his home is, that’s my home. Now I have two more boys and my Alberta roots are even deeper. Knowing my kids are content and happy makes it a

lot easier. It’s not about me anymore. I work at a school on a reservation here. I grew up drum dancing, and now I sing while I cook or clean. I do performances for the students. I share a few words I remember and I’ve got a lot of coworkers saying quyanainni. I try to keep the culture as much as I can, but it’s difficult. You lose it more and more over time. My wife is Sioux and Cree, and her brother often invites me hunting. Sometimes it’s tough to come out with three boys, but I’ll help skin the catch or cut up hindquarters and get them ready to cook. I’ve been talking with my wife about moving up North. She won’t unless she has a stable job. I could see it being scarier for people going from a big city to a small community rather than the other way around. But she has agreed that when we retire, the kids are out of the house and we don’t have to worry about work, the North would be the perfect place to just grow old together.

TUKTOYAKTUK

ELAINA WOODRUFF I was born in Inuvik and lived in Tuktoyaktuk for the first few years of my life, but I’ve lived in many places in Western Canada. I was adopted around the age of three, and after we adopted my little brother, we moved to Saskatoon, Sask. Then we moved to Vernon, B.C., then back to Saskatoon, then Martensville and then all over Alberta, where I’ve stayed since. When I turned 18, I moved from Barrhead to Edmonton by myself and got a Bachelor of Arts degree, majoring in psychology, though I’m not putting it to use right now. I work as a project administrator for a restaurant supply company. My adoptive dad was a cab driver in Inuvik, and my adoptive mom, Michelle, ran or managed the daycare. My birth mom (Allison) felt I would have a better life in Michelle’s care, and I was then separated from my biological family when we moved down south. I have four biological sisters and a biological brother. I only met my sisters

when I was 20. They had a different father. The largest struggle I’ve had growing up is related to being Inuit. I grew up in so many small towns that didn’t have much diversity, so a lot of people singled me out as an outcast. Everyone assumed I was Asian and I got made fun of for that. Being bullied was a huge struggle. Living in Edmonton was when I stopped caring what people thought of me. There is so much diversity here. I have a lot of friends who I look up to and gained confidence from. It wasn’t until I left Barrhead and all those other small towns that I overcame bullying and realized that I don’t care what they think anymore. I’ve always loved Edmonton. I’d like to travel and get to know the world, live in other places, but I’ll always come back here. Because I was adopted and left the North, I naturally lost that Inuvialuit connection to my culture. My mom lost touch with

everyone, and I didn’t know my biological family until I was 18. Recently, I’ve met a lot of family and friends from up North. I wish it were different and I had grown up with that connection to my culture, but my mom did the best she could as a single parent with two children and I appreciate everything she did for me. I don’t have a strong Inuit identity and I’m trying to reconnect with that. Knowing my four sisters, two on my mother’s side and two on my father’s, has helped a lot, as they’re all connected to our culture and learning the language. I’ve been inspired by them. As an adopted person, I never felt like I was missing anything, but I felt like I didn’t fit in. I’m 27, and I haven’t yet had a trip home to the North, but it’s definitely something I plan to do in the near future. Until that happens, I want to connect with other Edmonton Inuit and reconnect with my culture.

INUVIK

ADELA AREY-MCCARTHY I moved down here as a teen with my family, and then I settled in Hay River for a few years. After we lost my dad three years ago, we moved back here permanently. Life is good here. There’s a lot more opportunity for both school and work. You do miss the sense of community from home, but the cost of living is much lower. Last year, I started up my own online business where I reveal pearls in oysters and then set them on jewelry. I was watching livestreams on Facebook like I usually do, and I came across an oysterrevealing stream that had me infatuated. It’s pretty addictive. Initially, I tried to bring the pearls to craft sales, but that wasn’t cutting it, so I had no choice but to start livestreaming myself. I’ve done a lot of research since, from oyster farms in Asia to jewelry factories. It took a long time, but I managed to get it going and it’s exciting. The best I’ve done is getting just over 30 viewers at once. I

get a lot of support from back home. I have two daughters, 13 and 12. They’ve lacked the Inuvialuit culture, because we didn’t grow up in the region, and I’ve lived away from home for so long that even I feel out of touch now. The coverage we find online helps – drum dances, livestreams. Those bring me joy to see. Raising my children in my teenage years was one of the hardest challenges I’ve had. I had to make the right choices to build them up to become good members of society. I also struggled with addiction and depression. I have had to learn to forgive myself for the bad choices I made. Through it all, one recommendation I have is always being grateful for the many lessons and blessings that God has given us. We are all unique and need to love and accept who we are. Keep striving and don’t be ashamed to seek help when you need it, because with God, all things are possible.

INUVIK

JANICE GORDON-SQUIRREL I left Inuvik as a child with my mom, who went to Whitehorse and then Grande Prairie for school. I was in postsecondary school at Yellowknife, but the school shut down halfway through, so I transferred to Edmonton. I was only going to stay a little while, but I’ve been here for five years now. My original plan was to go to Marvel College for hair design, but I got my office admin diploma first. I’m currently working for an auto finance company. I feel like there’s so much more to do here and so many more opportunities. Back in Inuvik, we were always a bit bored. I didn’t truly grow up in Inuvik, as I left while young, so I didn’t grow up doing all the traditional activities like going out on the land. I still go up and visit at least once a year, but I don’t often get to engage in that part of my culture. There are so many different cultures here and different types of people, but I don’t see many Inuvialuit. There are no festivals or anything for Inuvialuit. No one has

recognized my ancestry. Staying in touch with who I am and where I come from has been my biggest challenge. On top of the fact I left home young, my father passed away when I was 10, so I didn’t get a chance to truly know him while growing up. I still have my mother, who lives in Norman Wells now. My family and friends send me traditional food, plus my husband still hunts. In that way, I’m keeping in touch with my culture. In the future, I’d like to open my own business, and I probably want to go back up north to do that. There’s so much competition here for hair, but not as much up there. For anyone thinking of moving south, I say do it, even if it’s only temporary. You can learn so much about yourself and what you like to do. The city is full of events and there is a lot to do while bettering yourself. You can always go back home if you don’t like it. It’s a good opportunity for younger people to get out, see the world and challenge themselves.

TUKTOYAKTUK

STEVE KIKOAK I left my home of Tuktoyaktuk to do schooling, and then I left the Northwest Territories altogether after some tragedies in my life, just to get away. I went to Ontario first and got my heavy equipment operator certificate. The Inuvialuit Regional Corporation helped me with that. I worked all over in mines, and I just completed my oil sands safety certificate, which gives me access to work in the oil sands. Leaving the North was hard, because I had to leave my family and friends, but I had to get away from it all. The hurt was too much. I had to leave to find myself again and continue to be a better person. I think I’ve accomplished that. You can’t escape tragedies in a small community like Tuk. There are not many resources, but you do have your elders to talk to. In a small town, you are constantly

reminded of what happened. It’s hard. I’ve worked steady since. I miss the hunting for sure. My parents would take me hunting and travelling all over when I was a kid. I miss my school friends too. Living in the south gets a little lonely, but you do get to see family and friends once in a while. I was just back in Inuvik last summer to watch my son get married. I have two grandkids now. He’s happy, I’m happy. I still have to go back and check the all-winter road, which we built a few years ago and I was a part of. If you’re living up north, my advice is to stay in school and get some training there if you can. If you want to further your education, come down south. There are more opportunities and things to do. You have limited resources up north. Get all your important phone numbers together and always keep in touch with your family.

INUVIK

SYDNEY ELEANOR DUNLOP After being born in Inuvik, I was back and forth between Tuktoyaktuk and Inuvik in the first few years of my life before we permanently moved to Inuvik in Grade 2 or 3. My mom and I needed a change, so we moved to Yellowknife and I finished my last two years of high school there. I moved to Edmonton in 2014 to go to university and play junior hockey. Before I aged out of hockey, I met my now-fiancé. We were managing a partially long-distance relationship as I worked between here and Inuvik after university. We decided we wanted to start a family, so I moved here permanently and took up a job with Northwind Industries. I do the paperwork for all of the goods we ship up to the North, so I still have that connection to home. We have a son now and bought a house together. Life here is different. I grew up in very

small communities where you know everybody and you’re with family all the time. We don’t have family here, myself or Chris, so it can get pretty lonely at times. You can be in the most crowded place in the city and still feel lonely, but we’re making it work. Keeping in touch with my culture is harder here. Back home, there are all the feasts and community gatherings. I was very much into dancing and used to travel to all the communities for square dancing and jigging contests. Cultural gatherings like that are very uncommon here. You don’t hear the language, you don’t see traditional clothing. Despite that, it’s been worth it. My advice for people considering heading south is to absolutely go for it. If you’re scared, at least try it out. You never know what you’re going to fall into, what you’re going to learn or who you’re going to meet. It’s a great opportunity.

TUKTOYAKTUK

LEW JOBS I was a product of the Sixties Scoop. I’m a Gruben. I was adopted when I was three weeks old by teachers in Fort McPherson. We moved south early in my life and I didn’t make it back to the North until I was 26. As I grew up, the government changed the legislation around adoptions and allowed adopted people to find their biological family. The lady who adopted me called me one day and gave me my mom’s and sister’s name and number and said, “Call them. This is your family. This is where you’re from.” I was 19 when I first called them. When I first went home to Tuktoyaktuk at 26, it was kind of scary and awkward. You’re basically a stranger meeting your mom and your sister. I stayed with my nan Persis Gruben, and I recently made the trip up to celebrate her 100th birthday. She took me in her home that first time. My adoptive parents didn’t tell me about my background as a child. They were German, so I was raised in a German lifestyle. By the time I made it home to the North, I had been to Germany four times. My second language is German. I identified more with the German lifestyle than I did with the Inuvialuit. It was only

when I hit 40, because I have two sons now, that I’ve been getting more serious about my culture and Indigenous lifestyles in general. In my 20s, I was at the height of my alcoholism. I’ve been clean for 11 years. I don’t think I was a very good house guest. There were a lot of emotions going through me that I didn’t deal with very well. I didn’t connect well with my biological mother at first. It was her husband at the time who told her to give me a chance, and thankfully she did. I remember going on a trip to Yellowknife when I was 10 or 11. There was an Inuit lady working in one of the hotels, and this is embarrassing on my part, but I asked, “How did a Chinese lady get up here?” My adoptive father laughed and said she’s Inuit. I had been teased my whole life about being Chinese. That’s when I put two and two together and figured out where I came from. I realized I was Inuit, but where I was from and the culture, I didn’t know anything about. When I grew up, Indigenous people weren’t thought of in a very nice manner, and I was taught that. I feel shame about this now, but I grew up not liking Indigenous people. Not my mom and dad, but other relatives told me how lucky I was

not being raised native. That sticks with you. As a child, you don’t understand that it’s not true. I had to reach out as an adult and try to break down those barriers on my own. There was also shame on my end for not knowing my culture. I was embarrassed. People would find out I’m Inuvialuit and ask me all these questions about living in the North, and I’d have no answers. With my sons, we try to incorporate the culture to the extent we can. My 11-yearold loves to skateboard. There’s an urban side to this too. As much as I try to incorporate aspects of the culture, there are certain things I can’t offer them. This has been their home. They know their family, and that’s all I can do. Maybe when they get older, if they show more interest, hopefully by then I will have more information to share with them and make some trips home. My advice to anyone going through a similar situation is to give yourself a break. You don’t know. Don’t feel bad. Ask questions and listen. There’s a willingness to teach if there’s a willingness to learn. I found that out. There are people who love to share knowledge and stories. If you grew up away from your culture, it’s not your fault if you don’t know it.

INUVIK

PATRICIA AREY-MCCARTHY I’m originally from Inuvik but I grew up in Aklavik. My husband at the time had a job with Ekati, and we were tired of the overnight stops in Yellowknife when he would come home, so we moved to Hay River to be closer to his work. Things didn’t work out for me and my family, and I didn’t want to go back to Inuvik, so I chose Edmonton. It was always my favourite city and my numberone vacation destination. It’s great here. Three of my kids graduated from high school. I came here because I wanted them to experience different cultures and lifestyles, rather than back home in a small community. Learning how the city works, following bus routes and getting to appointments on time was the hardest part at first.

As far as our Inuvialuit culture, there’s nothing here. Thank God for Facebook. That’s the only way we see drum dances and celebrations. I’ve travelled home many times myself, but it’s costly to bring my family. In 2007, I quit smoking and took up carving. I work with deer antler, soapstone and sometimes wood. My late husband introduced me to carving. Since 2015, I have also been silversmithing, which is offered at the arts centre here. To move south, you have to be family oriented. I went to residential school in Yellowknife and was very lonely, even though many students from the community came too. It’s not the same as having your own family. I also chose to live in Edmonton so that I could support my kids going to postsecondary school.

INUVIK

ANGELA SMITH I was 21 when I left Inuvik and moved to Edmonton. I worked in the healthcare field, which was emotionally and physically challenging but rewarding at the same time. I chose to stop due to it affecting my home life and how I would bring my work home with me. Now I’m primarily a mother to three children. I love being a mom and living here. The only thing I dislike is having to travel so far to hunt or fish or even go camping. I miss how you can just jump in the boat or skidoo and go to your camp. I’ve been here 18 years now. It’s a good place to raise my family and have opportunities for my kids. The first thing I got when I moved south was a long-distance plan to stay in touch with my family. Things have changed a lot since then and now we have cell phones. I’d call my mom or cousins every day. It was hard to adjust to the city, as I was used

to visiting my family or friends next door or across the street. Being so far also has its disadvantages, like when family is sick or passing and you’re not there to help or comfort them. Losing my mom and dad was very hard for me. We keep in touch with our culture. Right now, my daughter and husband are out hunting. They got a deer this morning and they’re trying to get an elk. We have moose we got from last year, and my family sends us caribou and fish. We go fishing in the summer, ice fishing in the winter, camping all year round. Some of my friends call me Bush Girl. Something important to me is listening to your elders, because they know what’s going on. Respect them, because you can learn from them. Finish school and always seek help when you need it. Lastly, I want to give a hello to my family and friends up north!

INUVIK

AMANDA SHORTREED I grew up in Inuvik and left to pursue my postsecondary education in Calgary when I was 18. That was one of the biggest challenges in my life. I wasn’t prepared for city living. I had vacationed to Edmonton before, but it wasn’t a holiday when I was going to school. You feel like a little fish in a big pond. You have to teach yourself how to live in a city, like taking a bus to get to school and finding directions. In Inuvik, you can walk from one end of town to the other in a half hour. I took business administration in college and majored in management. I went back north and worked for three-and-a-half years, but I found I wasn’t fulfilled in my career. I decided to go back to school and pursue a legal assistant diploma. That got me jobs in Yellowknife, Grande Prairie, Inuvik and now Edmonton. I moved here with my now-husband seven years ago and work as a paralegal and corporate secretary. I absolutely love it in

Edmonton. I have three daughters and they have access to everything here. The only thing missing is the exposure to the culture. Friends and family come down all the time and they often bring traditional food with them. I cook with my girls and have been teaching them how to make traditional dishes from the North. My mom is also an amazing seamstress and I’m trying to teach my girls how to sew. They don’t get to directly see drum dancing and traditional events, but I try to instil what I can being in the south. You’ve got to take challenges head on and persevere to become successful. It’s scary if you live in a small town your whole life and move to a city, but just go for it and do what is right for yourself to reach your full potential, especially if it means having to move to further your education. There are so many opportunities and career paths to choose, whether that means staying North or moving south to further your education, but get your education, as it will open many doors and opportunities for you.

the

M YST E R I OUS SIVULLIRMIUT

Bone needles in a needle case made from a hollow bird leg bone. (C. Arnold)

WORDS BY CHARLES ARNOLD

Stone spear points, Lagoon Site. (T. Macintosh)

ne spring, about 2,500 years ago, a small group of people set up a camp near the mouth of the Masik River on the southern coast of Banks Island. It is not hard to see why they chose that area. Seals are abundant, caribou and muskox roam the area and are easy to spot in the wide river valley, and geese and other waterfowl are attracted to tundra ponds that dot the land to lay their eggs.

of ringed seals, muskox and snow geese that made up most of their diet.

After the people moved on to other hunting grounds, the things they left behind – cooking hearths, bones of their prey, broken and lost tools – were gradually covered with sand and soil-blown in by the wind. The buried remains were gripped by permafrost, except in a few areas where frost heaving had churned the ground, bringing some of the remains to the surface, where they were spotted by archaeologists who were exploring the area in the late 1970s. The archaeologists were looking for evidence of an ancient lineage of Arctic-dwelling people who left traces of their existence throughout Alaska, across northern Canada, down the Labrador coast and in Greenland. The nature of that evidence varies from place to place and over time, and archaeologists have used a variety of names for branches of that lineage, which can be confusing to nonspecialists and specialists alike. Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami has recently addressed this confusion and proposed that archaeologists adopt the name Sivullirmiut, or ‘First People’ in Inuktitut, similar to the way Inuit is used as a general term that includes many regional names such as Inuvialuit. The artifacts that were exposed on the surface intrigued the archaeologists, and so they excavated parts of the camp – which they dubbed the ‘Lagoon Site’ – that were still buried in the frozen ground. The things that they found provide glimpses of a way of life that, although it is far in the past, beckons to be known. The age of the Lagoon Site was determined through radiocarbon dating, which can give a reasonably accurate estimate of the time that has passed since a sample of organic matter, such as willow twigs that were burned in a hearth, ceased to be alive. To determine which season people camped at the site, archaeologists sought clues by examining the bones

A child’s kamik, Lagoon Site. (T. Macintosh)

Among the many ringed seal bones found at the site were some that came from unborn seals. Ringed seal pups are born during the period from mid-March to mid-April, so those bones show that several pregnant seals were hunted during late winter or early spring. During that period, when the sea ice is still frozen, seals can be hunted at birthing lairs, at breathing holes through the ice, on the ice when they come up through their breathing holes to bask in the sun and at open-water leads. Antler and ivory harpoon heads found at the Lagoon Site indicate that seals were hunted using harpoons. The state of tooth eruption in jawbones of several immature muskox shows that they were hunted in late spring or early summer. One way of hunting muskox is to stalk a herd, just as wolves do. The adult muskox will form a circle around

An archaeologist’s trowel and a stone tool, Lagoon Site. (C. Arnold)

the calves, and may come out one at a time to threaten the hunters, whether they be wolves or humans – or humans with dogs – and can be dispatched with a spear. Bones from at least one (presumed) dog were found at the Lagoon Site, and several large points that had been skilfully shaped by chipping stone could have been tips for spears. Snow geese arrive at their nesting grounds in the Arctic as early as mid-May, and fly south again in September. A look inside the normally hollow leg bones of snow geese found at the Lagoon Site helps to narrow down this period. Some of the bones were packed with calcium deposits that build up in the skeletons of female geese before they migrate to their nesting grounds, and which they draw upon to form eggshells once nesting begins. Snow geese normally finish laying their eggs by mid-June, so finding these calcium deposits indicates that the bones came from birds that were hunted during the period from May through June. No tools that could be specifically associated with hunting geese were found. However, snow geese moult soon after they arrive at their nesting grounds and are unable to fly until they grow new flight feathers, and a club or a snare may be all that is needed to hunt them when they are in that condition. Hunting wasn’t the only activity represented by artifacts found at the Lagoon Site. Stone tools for scraping and cutting skins and needles for sewing skin clothing, so essential for survival, were also found, and are a reminder that survival required the efforts of everyone at the camp. Archaeology focuses on tools and animal bones that survive the passage of time, and has limitations about what it can tell us about the people who lived at archaeological sites. We can only guess, based on what we know of survival in the Arctic, that the people who lived at the Lagoon Site consisted of one or perhaps several families who moved with the seasons to take advantage of changing hunting opportunities. But we do know that this group included at least one young child. He or she left behind a kamik, a small skin boot about 15 centimetres long. When it was first removed from the ground where it had been frozen for more than 2,000 years, it appeared to be only a clump of folded skin. Through the

Harpoon heads, Lagoon Site. (T. Macintosh)

patient efforts of artifact conservators back at a museum, it was carefully unfolded and the original shape of the kamik was revealed. Those who have been fortunate to see this fragile item at the Prince of Wales Northern Heritage Centre, where it is being cared for in a controlled environment, have marvelled at the skill that went into making it. Some have asked the question: “I wonder where the other kamik is?” Who were the people we call Sivullirmiut today? Pooling information from oral histories with archaeological evidence and the results of genetic studies, one picture that is emerging suggests that Inuit of today and Sivullirmiut of the past shared an ancestry that can be traced to people who lived in the Bering Strait region many thousands of years ago. According to this theory, while ancestral Inuit stayed in the area around the Bering Strait, the people we call Sivullirmiut spread eastward throughout Arctic North America and Greenland about 4,000 years ago, leaving evidence of their existence at small camps like the Lagoon Site. According to this line of reasoning, over time the people who remained in the Bering Strait region developed the knowledge, skills and technology for hunting large sea mammals such as walrus and bowhead whales, and armed with those skills they expanded eastward about 1,000 years ago. It seems likely that the Sivullirmiut had disappeared from most parts of the Arctic by that time, although oral histories from some parts of the Arctic suggest these now-distant relatives may have met. Only a few Sivullirmiut archaeological sites are known in the Inuvialuit Settlement Region. More archaeological work may yet tell us more about this era in the history of the Arctic, but even then we can only wonder about the songs, the stories and the experiences of this mysterious population that their artifacts alone can’t reveal.

Note: The author wishes to acknowledge the assistance of the late Andy Carpenter, Peter Esau and other residents of Sachs Harbour in finding meaning in the archaeological remains at the Lagoon Site.

Q&A

with DUANE SMITH A few moments looking down and breathing carefully seemed uncharacteristic for the usually stoic Duane Smith as he stood at the podium following his re‑election as Chair and CEO of the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation in January. With 25 votes from the 42 directors of the community corporations, Smith was chosen to lead the IRC for a second term. We sat down with the Inuvialuit leader to talk about his thoughts after the election and address some recent subjects in the news.

After being re-elected, you had to take a few moments at the podium to compose yourself before speaking. Why were you so emotional? Do you really need to ask that one? It’s very humbling when your people choose you to lead them. It shows the leadership around the room and its membership have faith in you. They’re giving you their trust to continue to lead. I’m leading, but I’m doing it under the direction of the board, as well as the community corporations and its directors. That is a lot of pressure, but it shows a lot of respect in what we’ve accomplished. And it’s not just about me. It’s about the organization and the team we’ve put in place here.

In the lead-up to the election, were you at all concerned you wouldn’t be re-elected? Of course. You have to be real and realize that community leadership might want to go in a

Q&A

different direction. I think everybody in that situation tries to understand that you may not get elected. It’s something you have to accept at some point, because it’s part of reality. Fortunately, in this case, I was elected.

What is your game plan for the next three years? At the 42 Directors meeting, we provided results of our strategic plan of the last three years – what we’ve accomplished, what we’ve implemented, what is ongoing, what are new and emerging issues. We’ve asked the directors to provide input and guidance into a revised strategic plan for this next duration. We are consolidating all of that right now to develop this term’s work plan, which we will present to the board for them to formally approve. That will then be IRC’s direction and our marching orders to implement during this term. We also have to be prepared to respond to new or emerging issues that come up throughout the term.

There have been rumblings of some political issues between the IRC and the Sachs Harbour Community Corporation. What went on there and how is the relationship now? It is by overcoming those few challenges here and there that our organization has prospered so well over the last 35 years. IRC and the community corporations are a family and families work through things. This is what the IRC and Sachs Harbour are doing, and I think we are making great progress. The IRC is obligated to ensure that the funds we transfer to communities for programs and operations are accounted for and reported on appropriately. The reason we need to impose those requirements is because a failure to report and account in one community can affect not only the members of that community, but also the ability of all our communities to continue to receive funding. I am pleased to say that together with Sachs Harbour we

are righting that ship and getting the transparency and accountability that our funders and the law require. Once we leave our meetings and decisions are made, we must exit that room as Inuvialuit united, working together and trying to resolve any differences we may have.

How can you keep all the communities on the same page and feeling united? That’s why we have the 42 Directors meeting and a strategic planning session. The strategic plan is taking all the concerns, issues and priorities of the communities and the community corporations into account and building that into a plan where we would address those issues to the degree that they require. Most of its development as an organization is to develop unity, understanding, strengthening of the culture and our work relationships as Inuvialuit. Some of the issues are developed locally, where there might be a community-specific priority that our staff will build into the plan. We’ve taken that to another level in certain issues, especially around community wellness, where our staff go into the communities and work with them to develop a community wellness plan that’s specific to them. Staff work with the community throughout the year to implement plans.

Nearly half of Inuvialuit live outside of the Inuvialuit Settlement Region, which means they cannot vote in community corporation elections and thus have no say in governance of the IRC. Some have expressed a feeling of disenfranchisement because of this. What is your opinion on this group, who is often referred to as the Inuvialuit ‘99ers? Well, they don’t like to be referenced in that term, and they do have issues. Some are valid. We’ve tried to provide basic information in regard to the programs, supports and benefits they are entitled to regardless of where Inuvialuit live, especially around the work we’ve done with Health Canada and the non-insured health benefits program. There are also vast amounts of educational opportunities available

to any beneficiary, wherever they may reside. Our data and records show we have more than doubled that support to beneficiaries living across Canada and outside of the country.

In the IRC, is there any interest in changing how the system of governance works so that people outside the ISR can participate? People need to read the Inuvialuit Final Agreement in relation to its structure, how it applies to Inuvialuit and how we must conduct our corporate affairs. IRC is mandated under the community corporations. The community corporations make up this organization and under the community corporation process you have to reside in the communities to be a member. This is where IRC gets its guidance, direction and governance process from. But that doesn’t mean we totally ignore and disregard beneficiaries’ issues if they’re living outside the region. They are always considered. There are many opportunities for beneficiaries to become engaged. We’re always looking for appointees to the different bodies that the Inuvialuit have representation on throughout the North and across Canada.

Just to be clear, can you change the IFA or would it turn into a huge process? It would turn into a very huge process. We have always been very, very reluctant to open the IFA, and you need government’s support for doing that. If you do open up the IFA, the other parties could propose changes within the final agreement as well. IRC is reluctant to do that because we don’t want to see any further diminishment of what we consider our rights within the IFA and beyond.

Anything else you want to add? Again, I want to express my gratitude to the 42 directors for giving me their support for the next term, as well as providing guidance and input into the strategic plan. They’ve given us a huge task and responsibility to implement. I look forward to representing our rights at every level possible.

SENATOR

Margaret Dawn Anderson

TUKTOYAKTUK CELEBRATES HOMEGROWN APPOINTEE TO THE SENATE OF CANADA

bout five days prior to the announcement on December 12, 2018, I was notified I was going to be appointed to the Senate of Canada. I was excited and humbled to be chosen as a senator for the Northwest Territories. My role as a senator is to provide sober second thought, which includes review of bills through a Canada-wide lens to study and assess impacts on the provinces and territories. These bills usually are proposed in the House of Commons. A bill can be proposed by the Senate of Canada as long as it does not appropriate public revenue or impose taxes. As a senator, I also represent ethnic groups, women, Indigenous people, minority languages and those who are underrepresented inside the red chamber. As an Indigenous woman, my priorities centre around Indigenous peoples and women. Given my professional experience, I also am interested in the areas of justice, housing, food security and climate change. I also recognize

that communities in the territory are going through a hard time economically right now, which makes issues affecting employment a key priority. My mother, Sarah Anderson, was an Inuvialuktun instructor for over 20 years. She was one of a few who was fully immersed in the Sallirmiutun language, which is one of the Inuvialuit languages at risk of being lost. In addition, as the Northwest Territories has 11 official languages, language preservation, teaching and revitalization is imperative within the territory. One of the biggest challenges I faced was growing up in a small Northern community, where opportunities for youth are very limited. But in the same sense, that was and remains my greatest strength. Growing up in Tuktoyaktuk, my family included my nanuk, daduk, aunties, uncles, cousins and elders. Everything is collective – you look out for one another. Family and community are intertwined and they celebrate with you in good times and support you when things are not going well.

My advice for youth is to do the best you can. If things don’t work out, don’t give up! Persevere and keep going. Even if it seems like you have little to no support, support will come from somewhere. When I first left Tuktoyaktuk to attend college in Edmonton and completed my first year, I almost quit. It was my first time away from the North. I was a single mother with two young children. I applied for a job in Iqaluit, but the person I applied to spoke to me and convinced me to remain in college. It was because of this conversation that I successfully completed college. Even if it seems like you don’t have support, believe in yourself and your ability to succeed. Always do your best and people will recognize your strengths. If they do not, know that there is something out there for you. Even if you think the odds are against you, there’s always one thing that will lift you back up. Just keep getting back up. The rewards are worth the effort!

RESUMÉ Margaret Dawn Anderson is a proud Inuvialuk from Tuktoyaktuk who has been a public servant with the Government of the Northwest Territories for more than 20 years. She worked as Director of Community Justice and Policing, where she implemented positive changes to the territorial justice system, and she helped develop and implement the territory’s Wellness Court Program. She showed her dedication to improving the lives of others through her Planning Action Responsibly Toward Non-Violent Empowered Relaionships (PARTNER) project, a Northern-based program for low- to medium-risk domestic violence offenders. She was also an active member of the Working Group for Domestic Violence Treatment Options Court. Dawn is currently working on her Master’s of Arts in Indigenous Governance. She’s caught here cleaning up at her own celebration.

CELEBRATED

IN STYLE

The incomparable Tuktoyaktuk Siglit Drummers and Dancers honoured Dawn with a performance at the feast. Young and old and multiple generations of families took part, as the culture in the coastal Arctic community shone.

LEARNING THROUGH PLAY A look at the early childhood intervention program in the ISR

OFTEN FORGOTTEN but so crucial are those first years in Its first year focused on delivering a program by worldeach of our lives, when the foundation for who we will become renowned institute Hanen Training, which was called Learning is being built. Language And Loving It. The next few years built on that training. The project involves parents during special sessions The Inuvialuit Regional Corporation, which administers Ab- to reinforce communication and interaction development at original Head Start programs in Paulatuk and Inuvik plus home and in the community. three Child Development Centres (Aklavik, Tuktoyaktuk and Ulukhaktok), embarked on the Early Childhood Intervention In the following pages, we talk with the head of the department, Pilot Project in 2015, in partnership with the Beaufort Delta Maria Storr, and look at the staff and philosophies on childcare Health and Social Services Authority. at the Aboriginal Head Starts and Child Development Centres in Paulatuk, Tuktoyaktuk and Inuvik.

LEARNING THROUGH PLAY

A YOUNG boy was chewing gum in Maria Storr’s Classroom in the mid-’80s, and that was strictly against the rules. As she had learned from residential school, Maria made the boy put the gum on his nose, walk to the blackboard and hold his face against it until he learned better. Only, he didn’t seem to learn better. His behaviour just got worse from there on.

i was failing them& i was failing myself

Now she role models behaviour with her eight grandchildren, She remembers crying to her principal that her students reading to them, getting them excited about the outdoors. weren’t picking it up and she couldn’t control the full room of 21 no matter what she tried. “If they want to sing and dance, then we’re going to sing and dance,” said Maria. “If they want to play with Play-Doh, “Those children just weren’t ready to be sitting in a desk we’re going to play with Play-Doh. It’s whatever sparks their and instructed,” she said. “I wasn’t happy and the kids interest.” weren’t happy.” The other important pillar is allowing children to speak and It wasn’t long before she left education and turned her developing their communication skills. Maria says a child university credentials in a different direction, taking on an needs a vocabulary of 5,000 words to be properly prepared early childhood program manager role with the Inuvialuit for kindergarten. Regional Corporation. “If they say ‘caribou,’ we say, ‘Yeah! That’s a caribou! We call “I found it very difficult to meet the needs of the child as a it tuktu in Inuvialuktun.’ Then we talk about caribou stew, teacher,” said Maria, who is now the IRC’s early childhood or what we can do with the caribou. I never used to do that intervention project coordinator. with my kids. I didn’t help them learn or help to increase their vocabulary.” “The education system has a certain criteria children need to learn. I couldn’t teach it, because the children weren’t Maria helped bring the Hanen certificate to early childhood ready. I was failing them, and I was failing myself. The educators in the ISR. Between all of the communities, more children weren’t happy, and I wasn’t feeling good about it.” than 30 early childhood staff have completed the program. Residential school’s waves still ripple through all generations in the North. A generation of people was not taught how to parent, and the cultural and community ties were broken. The effects today show themselves in poor graduation rates and children not ready to enter school. Maria even admits the failing in her own parenting of her three children. “I came from a generation where we were taken away from our homes,” she said. “There was no role modelling. There was a gap in parenting. Even my children, who are parents themselves now, lack parenting skills. We used the TV or electronics to raise children, because I had no skill or knowledge of appropriate and healthy parenting.” But through her work for the IRC, and in the three-year early childhood intervention pilot project she just completed, Maria has discovered the importance of learning through play. She particularly credits Hanen’s Learning Language And Loving It program.

The IRC runs early childhood programs in all communities except Sachs Harbour, which currently doesn’t have the population to justify it. Maria has seen the results of the new play-oriented approach to early childhood development first-hand, but she says the trained educators are still not replacements for parents. “Parental involvement is a big thing, because parents are the child’s first teacher. At the beginning and end of the day, it’s the parents’ responsibility to ensure their children are ready for school. The programming is there to help them.” Through her work, Maria feels she is finally doing justice to her grandchildren, after feeling that her parenting lacked when they were growing up. “Now it’s my responsibility to give them the knowledge and skills to raise their children happily and healthily,” she said. “I feel that it’s my calling almost, because I know there’s a better way to prepare our own people to be successful.”

Toutuk Lester, Irene Ruben and Veronica Ruben, staff at the Aboriginal Head Start in Paulatuk.

LEARNING THROUGH PLAY

Elizabeth Kuptana sings “Tuktu Tava” with a caribou doll.

WHEN IRENE Ruben began working in child development in 1999, the common saying was that children should be seen and not heard. “It’s the complete opposite now,” she said. “You hear them and you see them. Back then, it used to be so restrictive. Now, it’s freedom. It’s children first.”

Children

Are Meant To Be Heard The staff focus on developing children through play and incorporating their Inuvialuit culture as much as possible.

The Aboriginal Head Start in Paulatuk had 10 students this year and focuses on seven main components: education, On lucky days, children are treated to a visit by elder language and culture, health, social support, nutrition, Elizabeth Kuptana, who might sing them a song in parent involvement and evaluation. Inuvialuktun. Irene has seen dozens, if not hundreds, of children come “The best part of the job is when they first attend and they’re through the program since she began in the ‘90s, and now quiet, and then they slowly get used to you, and it comes to some are coming back to work with her. a point where they’re talking more and interacting with you rather than playing on their own,” said Veronica. Toutuk Lester, 19, is one of those returnees. The most difficult part, they all agreed, is lack of attendance “I remember being a kid here,” she said, adding that she in the mornings. wants to pursue child development as a career. For the Paulatuk staff, the goal of the preschool is “That’s a highlight for me,” said Irene. “Those children encouraging children to give them confidence before I taught are bringing their own children here now. They entering ‘the big school.’ know it’s going to be a good place and a good foundation to prepare their children to go to the big school.” “What I believe in for the children who I’ve worked with all these years is the word freedom, the word self-esteem,” said Veronica Ruben, another staff member, saw her son go Irene. “We try to instil pride in our culture into their little through the program, too. minds and bodies. That’s my philosophy.”

LEARNING THROUGH PLAY

Tuktoyaktuk Child Development Centre staff, left to right: Erin Felix, Dorothy Wolki, Brenda Kimiksana, Clorise Nogasak and Jennifer Wolki.

LEARNING THROUGH PLAY

TWENTY YEARS ago, Jennifer Wolki got into childcare for the money. Now, it’s her passion. “The longer I worked in the field, the more I understood that children learned in different stages,” said the program coordinator at Tuktoyaktuk’s Child Development Centre. “I got more curious and wanted to educate myself on how I could help them learn.”

Parents: relax Erin agreed that things have changed since she was a child coming up through the system. The introduction of junior kindergarten recently is another big change.

The first five years of a child’s life set the foundation for him or her, she said. Her goal is to make that foundation positive, safe and solid, as well as culturally relevant. The best approach to do this, she’s found, is in a semi-structured environment that focuses on learning through play.

The Tuktoyaktuk program also brings in cultural elements such as song and dance and traditional food, which staff get the children to help prepare.

“I think childcare has changed in the sense that we’re not just babysitting or watching your children – we’re providing a place to stimulate their growth and development,” she said.

“Every year we encounter young families where everything has to be just right,” said Jennifer. “We tell them that if their child is coming here, you need extra clothes, because we like to get messy. They’re uptight at first, but by the end of the year, they’re like, ‘Okay, whatever.’”

“It’s not black and white anymore. There are a lot of inbetween areas that we focus on now. It’s not my way or the highway. It’s, ‘We’ll make adjustments for you and we’ll try to understand how we can help you.’ I think this team really keys in on that and they are more understanding, as opposed to how it was a couple of generations ago, when there was too much structure.”

The group’s biggest advice for new parents: relax.

Some new parents might be overly deferential to their children, she added, such as asking them if they want to go to preschool or do this or that.

“The child of course will say, ‘No, I want to stay home and watch TV.’ I’ll talk to the parent and say you’re listening to your kid when you’re the one who’s supposed to be The team she’s talking about consists of Erin Felix, Dorothy in authority. You don’t ask your kid if they want to go to Wolki, Brenda Kimiksana and Clorise Nogasak, who preschool. You just bring them, because you know they’re run two separate programs based on ages at the Child going to be in a safe place, and you encourage them that Development Centre. All of them are from Tuktoyaktuk. they are in safe environment.”

Olivia Greenland and daughter Ellyra Lennie at Inuvikâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Aboriginal Head Start.

Shauna Kayotuk, right, and student Arionna Storr.

LEARNING THROUGH PLAY

ELLYRA LENNIE was two years old when her mother, Olivia Greenland, applied to work at Inuvik’s Aboriginal Head Start. “I thought, what better job to find out who my daughter’s going to be than this one?”

Taking The Skills Home

Now, Ellyra is in the program with her mom.

“In the old ways, it wasn’t learning through play,” said Olivia. “It was, ‘You’re going to sit down and learn.’ But a three“It’s taught me a lot of patience,” said Olivia, who raved year-old is not going to want to sit down for more than five about the Hanen program Learning Language And Loving minutes and be taught. Learning through play makes it a lot It. simpler for them and us as caregivers.” “Before that program, I thought my daughter had a speech delay. But then I learned more techniques to help her, and she took off talking from there. I think all parents should take that program, because it helps a lot in progressing language development. It’s learning through play and how to educate them that way.”

For example, if a child picks up a piece of Lego, Olivia might ask what shape it is, what colour it is and what he or she wants to make with it. “We go off on what the child is interested in,” she said.

Olivia has seen the results in her own home with Ellyra. Early childhood intervention means that issues can be dealt with in children before they become problematic later in “It’s totally changed the way I speak to kids,” she said. “I life, said Olivia. She focuses on teaching her students self- now observe what language level and developmental level regulation, how to calm themselves and deal with issues they’re at, and I go from there.” that come up.

A GRANDMOTHER first and foremost, but an excellent caregiver at Inuvik’s Aboriginal Head Start as well, Shauna Kayotuk has also become an advocate for the benefits of Hanen’s training program. Fostering children’s language skills can come through dramatic play or just asking them questions, she explained.

Building The Foundation

she snatch!’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘She took it.’ So even “It’s building concepts, word by word, and having them in disagreements, there’s an opportunity for them as think for themselves,” she said. “If they’re feeling sad, call it individuals to express to their peers that they disagree with sad. If they’re feeling happy, call it happy. It’s putting titles what’s going on. We find that very empowering.” to their feelings.” If children can learn those skills early, hopefully it will That includes expressing themselves through drawing, mean they can communicate and stand up for themselves transferring their feelings and thoughts to paper and properly as they get older. creative projects. A child needs to hear a word roughly 500 times to learn “It’s really interesting when you start allowing them to it. Shauna will use a word dozens of times in different express themselves,” said Shauna. “It allows them to ways throughout the week to help the child pick it up. And recognize that they’re real with real emotions and real from single words, caregivers can help the child expand to thoughts.” deeper thoughts. A key part is letting children play with each other so Equally important is working on children’s fine motor skills, they learn to self-regulate, share, communicate and learn so the child can understand not only what’s in her head but boundaries. how her body works. “When they’re having an argument, for example, tell Shauna loves what she does and encourages people to join them that you’re sad. Tell them what you’re feeling. ‘Well, the profession.

My Records, My Choice If you made an IAP or ADR claim for compensation for residential school abuse, there are records of your claim. You now have the opportunity to choose what happens to those records after your claim is finished.

The choice is yours • • • • •

Your records from the Independent Assessment Process (IAP) or the Alternative Dispute Resolution process (ADR) are confidential. To keep them confidential, you don’t need to do anything. If you do nothing, your records will be automatically destroyed on September 19, 2027. Until September 19, 2027 you can get a copy of your records for yourself or to share with anyone you choose. If you choose, you can preserve your records for history, education, and research at the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation (NCTR).

Which records are being kept? • • • •

Your application form The voice recording of your testimony The printed record (transcript) of your testimony The decision on your claim

Can I get a copy of my own records? Yes. To get a copy of your application form, the transcript of your testimony, and your decision, call IAP Information toll free at 1-877-635-2648. Or email IAPRecords_DocumentsSAPI@ irsad-sapi.gc.ca. Information that identifies other people will be blocked out, to protect their privacy.

completed consent form to the IAP Secretariat and your records will be securely sent to the NCTR. To get a consent form, call IAP Information toll free at 1-877-635-2648 or download the form from www.MyRecordsMyChoice.ca.

How would my records be used at the NCTR? If you choose to preserve your records at the NCTR you may choose either restricted access or open access. “Restricted” means that your name and other information that identifies you is kept confidential. “Open” means that you could be publicly identified.

Can I get help? Yes. Resolution Health Support Workers (RHSWs) can answer your questions and help you with forms. To find an RHSW in your area, call one of the toll-free information lines below, or ask at your band office.

To learn more •

IAP Information toll free: 1-877-635-2648 email: MyRecordsMyChoice@irsad-sapi.gc.ca online: http://www.MyRecordsMyChoice.ca

•

Assembly of First Nations toll free: 1-833-212-2688 email: iapdesk@afn.ca online: www.afn.ca

•

Inuit Representatives: Contact for the Inuvialuit: phone: 1-867-777-7018 email: ggruben@inuvialuit.com online: http://www.irc.inuvialuit.com/

It can take several months to receive a copy of your records.

Preserving the history of residential schools The National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation (NCTR) has been created to preserve the history of Canada’s residential school system. It is hosted at the University of Manitoba. It is the permanent home for the records of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). The NCTR invites those who made a claim in the IAP or ADR to add their records to its collection. These records will be available forever, to researchers and others who want to learn about the history and impact of Canada’s Indian residential schools. Information that identifies other people will be blocked out, to respect everyone’s privacy. If you choose to preserve your records with the NCTR, send your

Contact for Makivik: toll free: 1-800-369-7052 electronic communications can be submitted at: http://www.makivik.org/contact/ online: http://www.makivik.org •

National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation (NCTR) toll free: 1-855-415-4534 email: NCTRrecords@umanitoba.ca online: www.NCTR.ca

If you are feeling pain or distress because of your residential school experiences please call the free 24-hour Residential Schools Crisis line: 1-866-925-4419

Inuusipkun Makpiraanun Aglaktat, Isumamni Uvapkun

Makpiraatigun IAP immaluuniin ADR-mik apiqsiniruvit akiliusiaruklutin ilisarvingnin nangititaugavit, makpiraani suli ittut. Qangma tajva makpiraat taapkuat qanuq iliurutuksait ilipkuaqtutin.

Ilipkuaqtutin • • • • •

Makpiraatin ukuannin: Independent Assessment Process (AIP), Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR) takupkalaittut allanun. Tutquqtaumatillugit suyaksaitutin. Qanuq iliungitkuvit makpiraatin siqumillugit igitauniaqtuat September 19,2027 tikitpan. September 19, 2027 tikitinnagu makpiraatin tigulagitin takupkarupkupkit kitununliqa ilipkun. Makpiraatin tutqulammigitin ilipkuaqtutin uvunga: National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation (NCTR). Ilisarvingnun atuaksat.

Sut Makpiraat Tutquqsimavat? • • • •

Makpiraatin Nipiliurvingmi nipin ittuq Quliaqtatin aglaktat Makpiraatin apiqsuravit qanuq ilimangaata

Qanuq Makpiraatka tigulavigit?

Tajvanga makpiraatin tuyurniagait puumariksilugit NCTR savaktinginun. Makpiraat aglaaksatin uvuuna pianaqtut: 1-877-635-2648. Qaritauyakkunlu: www.MyRecordsMyChoice.ca

Qanuq Uva atuqtauniaqpat Makpiraangutitka NCTR-mi? NCTR-mi tutqurukkupkit makpiraatin ilipkun allanun angmaniaqpat umiksimaniaqpaluuniin. Ilipkuaqtutin. “Restricted” imana ittuq: Atqinlu quliaqtuatinlu allanun takupkalaittuq. “Open” imana ittuq: Kinautilaan ilitchuripkalayuq. Angmayuq.

Ikayuqtiqalavik? Ii. Taapkuat ikayqtauyuat Resolution Health Support Workers (RHSW) ikayulagaatin makpiraatigun. Ikayuqtit taapkuat paqinnaqtut malirullugit makuat:

Ukuat qaunagilugit •

IAP akiilaq 1-877-635-2648 MyRecordsMyChoice@irsad-sapi.gc.ca http://www.MyRecordsMyChoice.ca

•

Assembly of First Nations 1-833-212-2688 iapdesk@afn.ca www.afn.ca

•

Inuit Ikayuqtit: Inuvialungnun: 1-867-777-7018 ggruben@inuvialuit.com http://www.irc.inuvialuit.com/

Ii, Makpiraatin pisukkupkit tamaita AIP uqaqatiginaqtuq uvuuna: akilinaitukkun 1-877-635-2648. Qaritauyakkunlu: IAPRecordsSAPI@irsad-sapi.gc.ca Inuit atingit itpata makpiraani iginiagait munrisuklugit. Sivituaqtunik tatqiqsiutinik makpiraatin takulaitkitin.

Ilisarviit tukkunaqtuat tutquqsimayuat pitusingit Taamna National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation (NCTR) iliyauyuaq tutquruklugit Canadam ingilraan ilisarvingit pitqusingitigun. Tajvani Ilisarvikpangmi (University of Manitoba). Truth and Reconciliation (TRC) makpiraangit tajvani ittut. NTCR savaktingita tamatkuat akilitqublutik apiqsiyuat makpiraatigun ukuannin: IAP ammaluuniin ADR. Makpiraatik tajvingaqublugit. Taapkuat makpiraat angmaniaqtut ilisaujinun tamatkuanunlu ilisaruktuanun Canadam ilisarvingit ingilraan qanuq itilaangitigun. Inuit atingit itpata makpiraani iginniagait munaisuklugit. Makpiraatin tutqurukkupkit NCTR-tkunun, aglaglugu makpiraanun tuyurnaqtuq uvunga: IAP Secretariat.

Makivik Ikayuqtit: 1-800-369-7052 Qaritauyatigun uqaqatigiingnaqtuq ukuannin: http://www.makivik.org/contact/ http://www.makivik.org •

National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation (NCTR) igluqpanganni 1-855-415-4534 NCTRrecords@umanitoba.ca www.NCTR.ca

Isumaaluutiqauvit qanurliqa ilisarviit tukkunaqtuat nayuqaaqtilugit uqaqatiginaqtut ikayuqtit uvuuna: 1-866-925-4419

OLIVIA KATE IATRIDIS INUVIALUIT ACTRESS ON HER WAY TO L.A.

At age 13, Olivia Kate Iatridis declared to her mother, Gloria, that she was leaving home at 18 to go to Los Angeles to become an actress. “It scared the crap out of me,” said Gloria, whose daughter is now 16 and successfully on her way to her dream. “I looked at her and knew how serious she was, and I said if that’s what she wants to do, we need to invest in it.” Gloria, who’s from Tuktoyaktuk but raised Olivia in Yellowknife, invested in acting training for her daughter, just as parents invest in sports or other activities. She wanted Olivia to be as prepared as possible and have every opportunity to live her dream.

Screenshot from Indraâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Awakening.

ACTING resumé CLOSURE INDRA’S AWAKENING CONDOLENCES BREAKING SPIRITS K-DAYS ZOMBIE FEST CULPRITS CITY OF ST. ALBERT TOURISM THE DANCE 1960S ON-LINE INSPIRATION ON-LINE CANADA 150 CONDOLENCES

(short film) (short film) (short film) (feature film) (television) (docudrama feature film) (promotional video) (promotional video) (promotional video) (promotional video) (voiceover) Screenshot from Indra’s Awakening.

Olivia is represented by Darryl Mork Talent.

Screenshot from Indra’s Awakening.

For Olivia, that’s meant she’s already been in three short films, two feature films and several other projects. Her passion for acting took off after the family moved to St. Albert, Alta., when Olivia was 13 and started taking acting classes and joined the Core Acting Group. “My end goal is to make big, big movies,” said Olivia. “I want to go to L.A. That’s where all the big-budget movies are.” Though young, Olivia has managed to secure roles for older characters because of her mature look, and few people would realize she is not an adult yet based on how well and confidently she carries herself. “My mom always says I’m an old soul,” said Olivia. “I think I just discovered my passion earlier than most teenagers do.” Still, she’s finishing Grade 12 this year and has had to balance her dream career with the needs of school, which hasn’t always been easy.

process of learning about the roles she’s playing. “I’m kind of dramatic sometimes,” said Olivia about why she likes acting. “It’s fun to be different people once in a while.” She has also enjoyed meeting people in the film industry, whom she calls cool and outgoing. “It’s a lot of adults, but I find I get along better with adults anyway.” Her youth has led to some challenges, though. Because of her age, regulations state a guardian must accompany her to shoots, and there are rules about working conditions and how she must have a tutor for longer shoots. She has also found opportunity in her Inuvialuit looks. She’s been described as ethnically ambiguous and is able to play First Nations, Asian and other roles.

“It’s a struggle,” said Olivia. “This whole last week when I was filming Hot Box (an upcoming film), I missed two or three days, and then going to Vancouver for the Joey Awards took more time out. A lot of my teachers try to help me out when I go away. I have a great support system.”

Through it all, Olivia has not found it hard to keep in touch with her Inuvialuit culture. Gloria makes sure to take her back to her “true” home of Tuktoyaktuk regularly and keeps her connected to her extended family. Until her nanuk Sarah Anderson’s recent passing, Olivia enjoyed spending time with her and learning about Inuvialuit culture.

Despite her passion, there’s an interesting fact about the youth: she doesn’t tend to watch the films she’s in afterward.

For the youth, the greatest challenge along the way has been other people’s judgement, sometimes from superiors who doubt her career ambitions.

“I don’t know what it is,” mused Olivia. “Most people don’t want to see themselves, I guess.”

“People tell you that you can’t do it because they couldn’t do it,” said Olivia. “If you’re passionate about something, you have to get over what people think and their opinions of you. I have plenty of supporters who believe in my dream. That’s the most important part – having people believe in you.”

That said, she loves the process of acting, including all of the hard work involved. Most challenging is when she has a deep script with lots of new words, but she enjoys the educational

MELODY TEDDY

y name is Melody Teddy and I’m from Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories.

I can speak the basics of Inuvialuktun, and I’m trying my best to learn more now that I’ve moved back home. I’m trying to make it normal for me to use instead of being ashamed because I only know so much. Before, I was more hesitant to speak the language, but now I see that the only way to get better is to speak to elders who know it and use those little words in my daily life. I’m trying my best. In 2016, I went south and took a bridge program at Nunavut Sivuniksavut in Ottawa. We learned about Inuit history, contemporary issues, different types of land claim agreements, the rights Inuit have to their traditional territory and the implementation of those rights. It also served as a bridge to university, where I eventually want to get into teaching. After I was done my two years there, I moved back home to be more closely connected with the youth and culture here, not learning it from books but from my own elders. As a young Inuvialuk, I am trying my best to represent and advocate for Inuvialuit. I am the chair of the regional youth advisory board for the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation and I’m the Inuvialuit representative on the National Inuit Youth Council.

When I was younger, I was shy and not as outspoken. I hung out with my group of friends but that was it. Eventually I realized that we as Inuvialuit youth didn’t have many people we could approach with issues in our region. We didn’t have a youth body to bring concerns to, so I started to get more involved. We had our first regional youth advisory board meeting in 2017. It has two representatives from each community, plus the chair. For the Inuvialuit Settlement Region, there are all sorts of ways we can improve life for our youth. First of all would be removing some of the negative stigmas enforced on Indigenous. We need to educate Inuvialuit youth properly on the different issues we face, such as politics, education, alcohol, safe sex and drugs, for a start. Then we need to move into social equity in order to have a good lifestyle that can be found in the south with all their education, health and mental health resources. I’m 22 now and when I’m much older I want to become a Canadian history teacher specializing in Indigenous history. I want to indigenize the way we teach history, bringing in Indigenous perspectives and teaching in a way Indigenous people might better understand. I’m taking this time at home to get back in touch with my culture and save money so I go to university well prepared.

vanga atira Melody Teddy, Tuktuuyaqtuurmiutaq.

Mikyumik uqalayunga Inuvialuktun, aigama maunga ilisarnilukpaktuami. Inuvialuktun uqarniapalukpaktuami qangma kan’ngunainman uqausiqput. Sivullirmik Inuvialuktun uqaruyuituraluami, qangma aglaan inirnirit ilisimayuat uqaqtigiikaini quyallitauniaqtuaq. Ubluq tamaan inuutimni mikigaluaqtumik uqaataliqtaliruma nakuuyuq. 2016mi, ilisariaqtuami atinlik Nunavut Sivuniksavut Ottawa-mi. Ilisaqtuanni ukuannik: Inuit pitqusingitigun ingilraan, qangmalu pitqusiptigun, nunannaktuaniklu allagiinik, Inuillu qanuq nunaktik inmigun munariyaksangat illurillirlugit tamarmik. Tamatkuat ilisaqtatka quyallitauniaqtuat uvamnun ilisaqtaukiruma ilisarvingni. Malrungnik ukiunik ilisarvingmi itqaaqlunga aimun nuuttuami inuuqatitkalu piqusiqpulu qanini itchuklunga. Inirnirninlu kisian ilisaruklunga.

Above three photos courtesy of Melody Teddy.

Nukatpiugama ikayuruvialukkita

Inuviuluugamalu, Inuvialuit.

Sivuliqtauyunga nukatpiqanun katimayuannun Inuvialuit Regional Corporation ataani. Ukuanunlu ikayuqtauyunga: National Inuit Youth Council. Nutaraugama kan’ngusuuyunga nipaittungalu. Inuuqatitka nayuqpakatka tajvatualuk. Taima ilitchurimaakiqtuami uvagut nutauyuanni kitut upaklugit uqaqatiniaqpigit nukatpiqat ijusiitigun. Nukatpiqanik katimayuksanik piruangiluta taimani. Tajvangaaniin aasiin isumiqtuami qanuq iliurutipsaptigun. 2017mi sivullirmik uvagut nukatpiqat katimayuanni. Inilaanin malruk ilauyuat sivuliqtauyuksamiklu. Maani nunaptingni (ISR) sivunniurnaqtuq ilurilirlugit nukatpiqat. Sivullirmik tamatkuat ilumuungilat kan’ngusaiyautit Inuvialungnulu Itqilinunlu isumainun iliyat maqaiqtuksauyut. Ilisautiyaksariyavut Inuvialuit nutauyuat iluatun makuannik: nunapta qanuq angalatiksainik sivumun, ilisarnikun, sigaaqluktigun, arnallu angutillu munariyuksallu inmingnik. Tajvangaaniin inuusiqput nakurumun iglirniaqtuaq tamatkuatigun. Qangma 22-nik ukiuniktuami. Ilisaujiusuktuami ilaani inuguryuumiguma makuannik: Canada-m qanuq itilaanganik ingilraan Inuvialuillu piqusiitigun. Ilurilugu qangiqsinaqilugu Inuvialungnun. Qangma aimalangniaqtuami inuuniarutikput nayurlugu. Sannaiyaruklunga sivunmun.

LIVING DESPITE ANXIETY APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE by Tyra Cockney-Goose

HOW DO YOU E XPL AIN TO PEOPLE THAT

you never really relax? That no matter what you do, you’re always on edge for what appears to be no reason? I mean, sometimes there is a reason, but not always. I can’t even count the times I’ve sat in my room worrying about literally nothing. I’m not expecting anybody to understand, because it’s silly and illogical to worry about nothing, but I do anyways. I seem to always have two completely separate parts to me, logical and illogical, that are constantly arguing with each other, but the illogical side often wins. Before you pull out your certificate or degree in psychology and call me crazy, I don’t literally think that I am made up of two entities. It’s more so an illustration of how I like to think my brain works. My logical side observes the situation and carefully plans out what to do and say, while the illogical side of me thinks that everything is on fire. The illogical side of me imagines billions of germs when somebody reaches out for a handshake, and the logical side sees the same thing. I don’t know many instances in my life where I am completely worry-free. That may seem sad, which it sort of is, but I’ve been doing this for the past 18 years of my life and it’s the only way I know how to live – no, yup, this is about as sad as it sounds, but it’s true. I don’t often open up to people, but when I do, the one thing I often hear echo back is, “Wow. You are so strong.” A disclaimer: if you are empowered by being called strong, then you do you. I’m not dissing calling people strong when they go through difficult situations, but it’s not my preference to be called strong. I don’t think there is anything “strong” about being so afraid of talking on that phone that you don’t answer when it rings for three

consecutive months (a true story, by the way). I don’t think that there is anything wrong with being or admitting to being weak. There is this idea in society that you have to be strong and put together all the time, but I believe that it’s okay to admit that you aren’t okay (sorry, I hate clichés as well, but this gets my point across). People have shamed or labelled me as rude for being anxious, like it’s something I can control. I’ve been shamed for being too anxious to do something alone, like going into a store, for ignoring phone calls, for not smiling or saying hello to people when I walk past them or on bad days when I’m so anxious I can’t speak. I never mean any harm, but people take offence to it and I often feel genuinely bad about it. Some days I just can’t handle life. Most days aren’t so bad, but it starts to hurt when people attack me for it. The amount of times I’ve heard, “You just need to grow up,” or “Stop acting out like this, yesterday you could do it” or “You were fun yesterday.” But the one that stings the most is, “You are ruining the fun.” I’m not sure why that hurts more than the rest, but it does. I feel bad when I ruin the fun, but standing up around people or socializing sometimes – oftentimes – makes me want to vomit. (Another disclaimer: this isn’t about any specific individual or group. Nearly everybody says things like this to me, and if you have ever said anything like this to me, I don’t hold grudges, so please don’t think I hate you or anything.) I guess my sympathetic nervous system just doesn’t work like a normal person’s – it thinks that standing in a line at the store for checkout is a reason to activate the good old “fight or flight” response (and I also think that they added “freeze” to that fun alliteration).

“

”

Another thing about anxiety, maybe it’s normal, but you worry about what everybody thinks of you and you constantly think about whether or not you offend people. If you know me, you know that I apologize a lot. I obsessively do my best to make sure that I don’t offend people. I am terrible at reading body language, so I never know if people hate me or not, and because my thoughts always spiral and I overthink, I usually think they hate me without probable cause ( just refer back to the logical and illogical parts of me).

and then replay the whole day in my head and become embarrassed about it every day for the next bajillion years.

Tying ideas together isn’t my strong suit, so I’m going to bluntly and awkwardly shift into talking about constantly worrying. I worry about silly things like, “Is this red sweater I’m wearing too intense and bold for me to wear in public?”

I won’t go too much into detail, but they suck. You hyperventilate, you feel like you are going to die, even if the situation isn’t dangerous, and you sweat. (I’ve considered taking the sweating part out, but since I’m trying to be real about this, I’ve decided to leave it in – I mean, I’m already hanging a bunch of dirty laundry, so what’s another really sweaty shirt?)

I usually just try to refrain from wearing any colours or styles that are too eye catching. I enjoy having little attention, like a quiet, totally not buzzing, fly on the wall. Once, I tried to wear my hair in a style that I thought, and some of my friends and family even told me, looked good: the double bun. Was it bold? Yes. Did I regret it the second I left my house? Yes. Did I still like the way it looked and kept it in? Yes. I definitely got some double looks because I normally wear a boring ponytail. I could tell that some of my peers didn’t think it looked very good. I kept it in despite that, because I decided I was going to be brave and not care what anybody thought of me for a day. You know,

Sorry for being disjointed with my thoughts all over the place (see, I apologize for everything), but although I’m a bit hesitant to bring it up, I still think that it’s important because I want to be as transparent about anxiety as possible, which must include the ugliest parts of it. And what I’m referring to is panic attacks.

They don’t always happen like that. I’ve gotten pretty good at what I call “silent panic attacks.” I mask the hyperventilating and I can often even hold a conversation without anybody noticing. Like I said earlier, I have 18 years of experience (imagine me putting up double finger guns and winking). They suck, but they pass. I hope that if anybody were to take anything out of this, it would be to just understand. I get it if you read this and you want to “fix me,” but it’s not really what I’m asking for. I also hope that I don’t get pity out of this, because it’s the last thing I want. I don’t see myself as struggling with anxiety. I live with it, despite it.

2019 IRC CUP Players from the Inuvialuit region and beyond joined to battle it out in the Beaufort Deltaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s biggest hockey tournament, the annual IRC Cup. Fans packed the stands and roared for four days of intense action.

B Division

ducks

LJ's Sabres

McPhoo Jets

mcphoo lightning

MSC Eagles

ndn army

THE TEAMS

Paulatuk Wolverines

Tuk Bulldogs

b Division

Slyck Stars

A Division

K&D Outlaws

LJâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Sabres

Malena Selects

THE OPENING

THE ACTION

LJâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Sabres, displaying jersey #16 for the late Trapper Blake, gather with players from second-place K&D Outlaws after winning the A Division final.

The PCM Pros took out the Tuk Bulldogs to win the B Division final.

THE CHAMPS

LETTER FROM THE MANAGER:

EMBRACE YOUR INNER SELF

The biggest part of being Inuvialuit to me is sharing our experiences with others. Passing on our knowledge orally in story has been a major part of our culture. Sharing our own lives with others is a healthy way to create community and bond with each other. It is a mission of mine to share my stories with as many people as I can, and I hope that it encourages others to open up as well.

performance to spread a message. I was able to share my personal experiences with a group of strangers and it felt great! Some of the participants in my talks came back and shared how my words affected them, so it really made a good connection. In turn, that made me feel great and I have been projecting that in my daily life since then. It sounds so clichéd, but the power of positive thinking has helped me greatly.

From a young age, I remember being in Rosie Albert’s Inuvialuktun class at Samuel Hearne Secondary School. She would teach us words and phrases of our language, but more importantly, she taught us our culture. We would be learning fun games and ways to pass the time from the old days. She shared her experiences and taught us life lessons about compassion and how to get along. In past editorials, I have written about the commonalities we share, the struggles, the ambitions and wanting a healthy, vibrant community in the Inuvialuit Settlement Region. Once we break down the stigmas of communicating our emotions with others, we can all grow together.

There are some around me who might consider me a bit off, somewhat odd or just straight up weird. I am totally okay with that and I agree. I don’t think like a lot of the people around me. It’s almost atypical how I see myself in this world. But it makes me think of something I read a while back. There is no “real” version of you. The way you see yourself is very different from the way you are perceived by those around you. Your parents see you as a different person than, say, your best friend, who then sees you as someone totally different than your spouse or partner. So really, if all these versions of you exist, then what does it matter what anyone thinks of you, because it’s all somewhat different anyways?

Recently I did a series of public talks about the benefits of using comedy and

Don’t shy away from telling your story the way you want to tell it. Sure, it might

not fit the “norms” of society, but at least you’re being true to yourself. And at the end of the day, I think that’s all we truly want: that inner peace, that calmness that we can escape to when things get tough, and of course they always do. But it’s in our blood, it’s in our beings to overcome those adversities. Please explore what it means to be you, because I promise you’re worth more than you think. Until next time, I’m going to be me, so you be you, too.

QUYANAINNI,

Dez Loreen Manager, Inuvialuit Communications Society

Celebrating 50 years of Educating Northerners

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What is Tusaayaksat? Tusaayaksat is published by the Inuvialuit Communications Society from the Western Arctic of Canada. Tusaayaksat means “stories and voices that need to be heard.” We celebrate the Inuvialuit people, culture and heritage and bring readers the best coverage of our news, vibrant culture and perspectives. Why subscribe? Published quarterly, Tusaayaksat is an essential resource and forum for Inuvialuit views, culture, history and current events in the Inuvialuit Settlement Region. For Inuvialuit, Tusaayaksat is like a letter from home, whether it be Ulukhaktok, Sachs Harbour, Paulatuk, Tuktoyaktuk, Aklavik or Inuvik. Support our mission: To empower, celebrate, communicate, heal and bond – and stay connected with a yearly (or more) subscription today!

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Tusaayaksat Magazine – Spring 2019

Articles inside

Living Despite Anxiety

Melody Teddy

Melody Teddy

Olivia Kate Iatridis

Learning Through Play

Senator Margaret Dawn Anderson

Q&A with Duane Smith

The Mysterious Sivullirmiut

Urban Inuvialuit

Sachs Harbour Christmas Feast 2018

Tradition in the Dark

Letter From the Manager

Living Despite Anxiety

Melody Teddy

Olivia Kate Iatridis

Senator Margaret Dawn Anderson

Q&A with Duane Smith

The Mysterious Sivullirmiut

Urban Inuvialuit

Tradition in the Dark

Letter From the Editor

Learning Through Play