Arctic Folklore

Arctic Folklore

Students’ stories of myths, legends and happenings from around the North

Have you heard of the little people in the mountains?Is there more under the ice than water, seals and fish?What is the meaning of the northern lights’ dance?

We teamed up with East Three Secondary School English teacher Megan McCaffery and students in her e-learning class to delve into folklore and legends.

Students were tasked with either retelling a legend their elders had told them, creating their own or telling a story with a lesson at the end, which is typical of folklore.

In the following pages, eight students share their stories of myths, adventures and all-out-weird occurrences in the North.

Art by Jimmy Jacobson, 1988

Grandma's Gift

Words by Alexandria Banksland

This is a made-up story, but the part about grandmother Agnes having gifts (being a shaman) is true. I decided to create a story about her and the fact that she was a good person who helped people in any way she could. In fact, I am named after her! She was my father’s grandma. I asked my dad one day if he knew about any stories of shamans in our town, both good and bad, and he mentioned something about Agnes Negiyok. He was not too sure if she was a shaman, but many people suspected she was able do special things.

From the soft warm breeze to the smell of fresh water and the thirst-quenching, sweet-but-bland taste of the ripe blue, red and black berries, 11-year-old Christine and her older brother Angus had been out all morning wandering, exploring and finding berry patches for their mother’s pie, pancakes and muffins.

Hours pass without any realization, picking one-by-one, putting three in the bag, eating three and putting another three in. The pair fill their bags to the top with every colour of berry. The sun starts to go down, day turns to night, thick white fog slowly rolls in from the top of the hill and both decide to walk back.

Miles from town and surrounded by fog, they start to feel confused and lost. As it gets darker, an eerie feeling gets more intense. As the sun sets and fog covers the two, they could not see through the haze. Sitting around the table with cups full of steaming hot tea, their mother Elizabeth, baby Joyce and grandmother Agnes start to worry. Their father Alex is out camping with the oldest child and can not be reached. The kids have never been out this late, and always knew what could happen if they did not make it back in time before sunset.

The hand strikes 3 a.m. and they are still not back. Still walking in the blur, slowly losing their sense of security and direction, Christine trips over a twig sticking out of the ground and twists her ankle.

A stomach-crunching, breathless feeling hits grandmother Agnes. She rushes to her bedroom and grabs tools that were passed on from her grandmother, walks outside, then, down the road to the shoreline.

Tears rolls down Elizabeth’s cheeks as she watches her mother set her cane down, take a bag out of her pocket and lay it out in front of her, grabbing a rabbit foot and feather from the bag. She then places it on her lap and says a prayer. Grabbing small rocks, she makes a picture in the sand, shaking her bag now full of pebbles. She sways back and forth, eyes closed, talking to the animals and communicating with the spirits.

She shouts and prays, “Munagiilugin tapkua!”

A moment later, a raven is flying above in circles.

Miles away, hurt and lost, Christine is breathing heavily, leaning on Angus as they walk. The thoughts flowing through their mind become stronger and louder than everything around them. Not even the dim, cold, emotionless, empty fog surrounding them could affect how they feel. The thought of not making it back home makes them unaware of what was around them and fills the empty, cold space with hopelessness and concern. But it was no longer just fog; they were walking through their thoughts.

After walking for what seems like forever, the children decide to rest and wait for the fog to pass. Through the thick white fog, a small black figure appears in the distance, slowly getting larger.

Christine notices this figure, waves her hands in the air and shouts, “We’re over here! Qairuit!”

The figure turns into three people, then four and they start coming toward the children, faster and faster. Angus squints through his thick, round glasses with an uneasy feeling and realizes the figures were not human but a pack of wolves. He grabbed Christine by the arm and they start to run, hoping to be lost in the fog.

A faint noise is heard but they keep running, tripping over bumps and stepping in pools of brown water. They realize they cannot outrun the wolves. They stop, tear after tear rolling down their blushed cheeks, hugging each other as tight as they can, and they pray for their safety, for one another, and to their family, thanking God for their life, for the things they had and most importantly remembering how much they were loved and how much they gave.

In a moment of peace, the tears stop, and the faint noise becomes much louder. In the midst of this commotion, they recognize the noise: their grandmother’s voice. There is a burst of laughter. Their rosy-red cheeks and blue-stained teeth smile as a heartwarming feeling fills the air.

The figures in the distance become more prominent. Angus helps his little sister up and says, “Annanatiaq hamaniituk.”

They notice a raven flying above, then two, then three. They all land, staring at the children. Christine tells Angus they must follow them. With the guidance of the birds, they find a cabin.

The hungry wolves continue to chase them both, faster and faster, their growls becoming louder and louder by the second. Banging on the door, kicking and kicking until the lock budge, Christine and Angus run in for safety.

Cha Cha

Words by Kennen Andre Blake

There was once an elderly couple who had two beautiful daughters.

Every year, they would go to the lake to pick berries. The older daughter would always stand by the lake, gazing upon it but never saying anything. One day, she disappeared without notice. Her family spent months and months looking for her. As the seasons changed, the family eventually had to leave. They returned to the lake for years to look for their daughter and had no luck.

One year, the elderly woman was by the lake when she suddenly saw a beautiful woman emerge from the water. The woman told the elder this is where she now lives and to stop looking for her. She told her mother that she was happy there and has two children, a boy and girl. The elderly woman was happy to know that her daughter was well and that she was now a grandmother.

One early morning, the grandmother woke to the sound of splashing and playing. She knew that these were her grandchildren. She wanted to see them. She began to scheme. She wanted to keep her grandchildren to make up for losing her daughter, but the children did not want to be near her. She knew she could prepare a potion that would allow the children to become tame and she would then be allowed to keep them.

The grandmother spent the rest of the day going through the forest gathering the herbs and plants needed to make the potion. She then grabbed her basket of herbs and plants and went by the lake and started digging a hole until it was deep enough to hide in. She took her basket of potions into the hole and waited.

After a while, the children came across the hole. The granddaughter was more cautious and unsure about passing it, but the grandson was more bold and courageous and was not afraid to pass by. The boy eventually convinced his sister to pass by. Just as they were passing, the old woman splashed the children with the potion. The boy had a lot of the potion get on him and it worked on him. The girl, on the other hand, only had a bit get on her, resulting in her getting turned into a little puppy dog. The grandmother was finally able to speak to her grandchildren.

She told the boy that she was his grandmother and that the small puppy dog was his sister, his Cha Cha. She then told him that they were going to stay with their grandfather. The grandfather taught the boy to hunt with a bow and arrows that he made himself. One day, while the boy was out hunting with his puppy dog, the dog wouldn’t give the arrow she had retrieved back, so the boy hit her out of anger.

The dog ran away into the woods crying. The boy immediately realized that he did something wrong and began running through the woods calling for his Cha Cha. It is believed that the boy turned into a chickadee and makes this sound to look for his sister.

Legend of the Hoof Lady

Words by Greg Jr. Villeneuve

One spooky, dark night, an old man from Fort Resolution was travelling to High Level in his navy Ford F-150. He saw a woman ahead on the road hitchhiking, drove up to her and picked her up.

“Do you want a ride?” he asked.

“Yeah,” the woman replied in a deep voice.

She went in the back door to sit down on the seat, and the old man turned to grab garbage from the floor so the woman could sit down. Then he noticed that she had abnormally weird looking feet and had to look twice to see if he was hallucinating. But he wasn’t – she had hooves for feet!

The man was scared and shocked, so he told her to get out of his truck. When he kicked her out, she started to walk along the road, looking very mad. When the old man drove away, he noticed that she was galloping at him with her hoof feet. He thought that he was going to die!

He put his foot on the pedal until he was going 110 kilometres per hour and she couldn’t catch up to him. Finally, he slowed down when he couldn’t see her, and he went on with his trip to High Level. This was his craziest and scariest encounter with a mythical creature.

To relate to this story, I had an experience like this too when my dad, Greg Sr. Villeneuve, was driving from Yellowknife back to Fort Resolution with me. My dad drove to Yellowknife to pick me up from the airport and bring me back home to Fort Resolution. I got picked up around 5 p.m. and then we left back home. I was exhausted from playing at a soccer tournament, so I went to sleep on the trip back home. It then got dark out while we were on our way; it was pitch black with no street lights anywhere, and all we had was the high beams on the car.

When my dad was driving in the middle of nowhere, he saw a girl walking on the road all alone. He didn’t stop to check on who she was and continued on with the trip back home. 30 minutes later, he saw the same girl. This time, she wasn’t walking – she was running or galloping towards us!

At the time, I was sleeping in the passenger seat, but my dad wasn’t scared. He just kept on driving and didn’t bother stopping to see what her problem was. We arrived in Hay River before he told me about what happened.

These stories that people have told me make me not want to let any hitchhiking strangers into my vehicle.

Always Watch your Step

Words by Starr MacLean

On a bright, blithesome day in Coral Harbour, my family decided to go on a seemingly endless fishing derby trip.

After a lengthy snowmobile ride and tons of tissues – I cried the whole way – we arrived at the campsite. We stayed at my mom’s friend’s cabin, but when we got there, the cabin was filled to the brim with powdery snow. My dad and brother were too broad to fit through the tiny window, so my sister crawled in.

Once inside, she kicked the door open so we could get in. Snow that was piled against the door fell out onto the ground, making room for the two men to shovel out the excess. When the cabin was warm and ready, my mom and I decided to start fishing. After spending at least 10 minutes ice fishing, I spotted my brother’s girlfriend four or five ice holes away. I decided to approach her to say “hi.”

As I was walking and gazing around, I suddenly felt my right foot go much deeper in the snow than my left foot was. I heard a splash and felt freezing water splatter my face. I realized that I had stepped into an ice hole!

Thoughts trembled around my mind that I was going to have my whole body fall into the ice hole. My eyes darted around the area, making sure that no one had witnessed the humiliating step into the water. Not a single soul had come towards me to see if I was okay. Because of that, I picked myself up and speedily ran back to the cabin we were staying in.

I finally felt warm when my mom took my boot off my freezing foot and I had to wipe the tears off of my face. Looking back now, I can laugh at what happened, and this whole adventure made me realize that I should always be watching the steps I’m taking in life, and I should bring an extra pair of boots.

Light Rabbits

Words by Jolan Kotchea; Image by Kristian Binder

One chilly spring night when I was 10, my family and I were driving back from town. Along the way, I saw lots of rabbits on the Liard Highway. All of a sudden my dad pulled the car over and everyone started to get out.

Curious about what they were all doing, I joined them outside and followed their gaze up to the sky. To my amazement, above us were the northern lights, the biggest ones I had ever seen in my life. While my mom was watching the lights, she began to tell me a folktale that she had learned from her dad, my grandpa. This is what she told me:

“The northern lights shine bright, as if they were the sun of the night. They dance high in the sky. They dance very fast and it just might make you want to move with them. The bigger the northern lights become, the faster they dance.

It is like seeing big ocean waves flowing through the sky. After hours of dancing, the northern lights begin to calm down and become a bit smaller. They come down to the ground because they are tired from all of their dancing. It makes the night sky very happy when the northern lights dance. Each time the northern lights touch the ground, rabbits appear, rabbits are born or rabbits walk off of the northern lights. That’s why there are lots of rabbits in the North, because the rabbits come from the northern lights and join the wildlife in the forest.”

This was the first time I had ever heard this folktale, and all of a sudden I finally understood why there were so many rabbits in the North. Now every time I see a rabbit or the northern lights, I am reminded of this folktale and this special memory I have with my family of that night we were driving home.

Wolverine Steals a Child

Words by Hailey Sassie

They say that a wolverine stole a child once back in the old days.

One day, a newlywed husband and wife were expecting a baby. While the wife was pregnant, she was craving moose tripe, so she begged her husband to go find and kill a moose for its tripe. So a day later, the husband went hunting for a moose. He hunted and searched for moose but he didn’t see any.

While he was hunting, the wife and his mother-in-law stayed back at the camp. The daughter-in-law asked her mother to search for lice in her hair, and while the mother was looking, the daughter fell asleep. When she went to sleep, the mother had an awl made out of the leg bone of a loon. While she had the awl, she grabbed an axe and placed it beside her feet. The mother was having second thoughts about it, but she changed her mind and placed the awl on her daughter’s ear, then pounded it with an axe and killed her own daughter!

The son-in-law was still out hunting all day. The mother-in-law made a fire and tore off her daughter’s hair right to the scalp. When she had the hair off, she placed her daughter’s hair on her head and tried to act like she was the husband’s wife. Before the husband got home, the mother-in-law buried her daughter, then went back to the fire and waited for her son-in-law to get home.

When he got home, the son-in-law assumed she was his wife, but the mother-in-law was ignoring him. He got mad and pulled her hair, making it come off. He noticed it was his mother-in-law. He soon noticed his wife was dead, so he killed his mother-inlaw for killing his wife.

After he killed her, he saw traces of blood and found his wife buried outside, so he dug her out. He felt her stomach, and the baby was still alive, so he cut her stomach open and took the baby out. A couple of days later, the husband packed up their stuff, wrapped the baby in rabbit skin and carried him out of camp.

While travelling on the land, the father would hunt for food for the baby and himself. As the months went on, the baby grew bigger and then was able to crawl. The father saw grouse flying, so he left the baby by a tree and killed a grouse. When he came back, the baby was gone. He knew a wolverine would take the baby, because that’s what they do when a mother-in-law kills her own daughter. He rushed after his baby, because that was the only thing that mattered to him.

Days of travelling later, he finally found the wolverine’s home. But in it, he saw another version of himself, because they say a wolverine is a trickster and could change into a human. The wolverine had transformed into the father and had been impersonating him to the baby, saying, “I am your real father.”

The real father went running to the wolverine and threw him into the fire. He ran to his baby and took him back. They were both starving, but the father knew he was near home, and a day later they got home safely and did not think of the wolverine again.

They say the reason the wolverine takes children is because they follow the survivors of murders, until the young ones are left alone. They will trick the baby by looking like the parent or someone else. Wolverines are known to be tricksters, always outsmarting people.

Inuagulit

Words by Mitchell Inuktalik

When I was a kid, I was always hearing these weird stories about a group of people called the Inuagulit (or Inuaguliks, as I call it), meaning Little People.

It is said by the elders that there are a whole lot of them at two locations: Huluaguk and Pedutak. There is a cabin at Huluaguk, and on one perfect summer night, a couple was staying there while making their way home from a camping trip farther down in Prince Albert Sound.

They were tired and exhausted from the long boat trip. They brought what they needed into the cabin, and it is said that just before they fell asleep, the roof of the cabin began to get hit by hundreds of little rocks.

The pelting lasted 10 seconds, while the couple were screaming in complete fear. When the rocks finally stopped, the man immediately ran outside with his rifle, but he saw nothing in sight, and there were no foot prints as far as the eye could see in the grass.

The Little People

Words by Lucyann Okheena

Georgina had always heard the stories about the little people. They were popular myths to talk about when someone wanted to tell a scary story or scare their little siblings. However, there were quite a few people who really believed they had encountered a little person. They would never see them in the flesh, though, because the little people would vanish right away and the observer would be left with a severe sickness. Georgina never quite understood or believed in these myths, because how can it be possible for a small-sized human to live among us and seemingly vanish whenever they want?

But then it happened, one afternoon when she went boating with her family to Ahagniakvik on a berry-picking trip. The little hillside is just outside the small town of Ulukhaktok. Ahagniakvik is very beautiful, with sky-high cliffs and berry patches every five steps. There was a little bit of a breezy wind, which in the end was good because on hot days it would be unbearable. The small family of five – Emma, Charles, the twins Tom and Harriet, and of course Georgina – got out of their boat and made their way towards the berry patches. Georgina could tell something particularly important was going to happen that day but she did not know why or what it was. She felt it in her core, the feeling you get when you’re nervous for your first job interview.

“Georgina, can you pass me the jars, in the boat next to the seat?” Emma yelled.

Georgina sighed petulantly and stomped towards the boat, grabbing the items that her mother told her to grab and runs back up shouting, “I got them!” Emma grabbed the jars out of Georgina’s hands and passed one each to Georgina’s two younger siblings and father. One by one they started running up to the closest berry bushes and immediately started picking them.

While Charles was picking the berries, the twins were eating them happily instead of putting them in their jars.

“Georgina, go pick up berries from the top of the hill. Your father and I can’t walk that far, you know how old people get,” the mother said while walking towards one of the closer bushes.

She started walking up the large hill like her mother had advised her and immediately saw a variety of berries, ranging from raspberries to blueberries to blackberries. Georgina walked towards the raspberries and started to pick at them, only picking the ones that were fully ripe. When she looked at the berries filled in her jar, she could have sworn that it was half full but it looked to be only a quarter way.

Georgina pushed the slight uneasiness and confusion aside and started to pick more berries. The first time she heard rustling in the bush, she put it off as a small breeze flowing through the air, but as it turned into a continuous rustling, Georgina decided to investigate. When she pushed the bush to the side, what she saw shocked her. Right in front of her was what seemed like a little person biting into a berry way too big for him. The tiny figure froze, looking at Georgina with wide, innocently terrified eyes, and vanished.

It must’ve been over 30 minutes since her encounter with the little person and Georgina still couldn’t move. She was in a catatonic state. She couldn’t think and found it hard to breathe, even though there was a never-ending supply of air all around her. It wasn’t until her mother called out for the third time that it was getting late that she realized what just happened.

It was real. She wasn’t dreaming. She didn’t hallucinate. The little person was real and she just experienced it. There were many emotions running though her body, but the one that she could focus on was the fear, because she had heard all the stories that people tell about these tiny creatures.

“If you see them, you will get sick!”“They will bring you bad luck!”

“We don’t know exactly what they look like, but if we saw one, I’d bet they look right out of your nightmares!”

Georgina finally got up, grabbed her jar that was now at the halfway mark and made her way down the hill not caring if she stepped on hard rocks or in muddy puddles. The only thoughts she had on her mind were, ‘Will I get sick?’ and ‘Will I die from this unknown sickness?’

“Are you okay, Georgie?” Charles asked worriedly.“You look pale,” Harriet added.“Yeah,” Georgina replied halfheartedly.

Her parents looked at each other, concerned about their daughter, who looked terrified for a reason they didn’t know and would never understand.

It had been two weeks since her encounter, and Georgina was starting to feel relatively normal. She did not get sick, but she still felt uneasy. She went around town talking to different elders to understand what exactly the little people were. Georgina discovered that the little people who she now knew as “ishigaq” were messengers for their ancestors. Over the years, they had become depicted as cold-hearted, pesky creatures.

One specific elder, named Negiunak, said that because we have become part of the modernized world, they had to hide away. Negiunak told her different stories about how the little people would pop up in our great-great-great grandparents’ igloos and tell them where the animals were, and in return, our ancestors would share what they caught with the little people.

If you weren’t willing to share, they would give you hints about the animals, but they wouldn’t point out where they were straight away.

Georgina walked home with a light heart, but she was still curious about the little people. She wondered what they were like, if they can speak English, Inuinnaqtun or if they had their own language they developed over time. She knew they looked normal, though their ears were pointed almost like an elf from one of those children’s storybooks.

The need to know more was building up inside her body. It was practically begging to be released and if she did not fulfill it, she would go crazy. That was when she decided to go back.

Georgina told her parents that she was sleeping over at a friend’s house and filled a backpack with essential surviving tools, such as a sleeping bag, toothbrush, toothpaste, a knife and an extra pair of clothes. She walked out the door and bolted towards Ahagniakvik; at the pace she was going, it was roughly two hours away. If it weren’t for her burning need to find the answers that she wanted, she probably would’ve never made it. Georgina took out her phone and checked the time; it was nearly midnight. If her parents knew what she was doing, they would literally kill her. She sat in the same spot waiting for the ishigaq to show up, but this time they didn’t. It went on like this for the next month every time she would visit the Ahagniakvik. Georgina started losing hope. She didn’t know if she should keep coming back or leave them be. Eventually, she chose the latter, respecting that they maybe wanted to be left alone.

If there’s one thing she’s learned, it’s that these little creatures were misjudged. They weren’t evil. They existed just like humans. It’s a known fact that humans tend to judge based on their looks, size and how different they are. It was not any different with these creatures who seemed to keep to themselves, not bothering anyone.

It has now been over 20 years and Georgina has her own family: two children that she adopted and a one-year-old puppy. When her children grew old enough, she told them, “Every single person on the planet has a story. Don’t judge people before you truly know them. Their truth might surprise you.”

She teaches them about equality, kindness and compassion. She didn’t want her children to grow up not knowing those important qualities. She has not seen her little friends since that one day, but she holds them very close to her heart.

Filming Folklore:

Exploring Inuvialuit mysteries through the lens

An interview with filmmaker Jerri Thrasher

Tell us about your work.

First and foremost, I am an Inuvialuk in film. Aside from television producing, I am also a producer, writer and director. I write films that are a mix of traditional and contemporary elements about Inuit folklore, oftentimes pressing on social issues. Although written in a fictional sense, there are themes that are true to our history.

What about folklore interests you?

When I was a child, my mother read to me on a regular basis. Fortunately enough, there was one author who created Inuit children content, Michael Kusugak. His stories were so similar (if not identical) to the stories we were told from our parent(s) and I remember feeling proud that we were represented in these stories. Those were times your imagination ran wild and – as you may know – Inuit folklore is often terrifying. Those stories served a purpose: to deter children from venturing too far into dangerous territory – a survival mechanism. So, to my surprise, when I got older, I found that there wasn’t very much Inuit-based content in all forms of media. This was frustrating as we had scarier and more exciting stories than any Hollywood movie I could think of. There was this feeling of purpose and obligation to step up and be one of the content creators in the best way I knew how – through film.

The three international films that formed the anthology, The Last Walk. On the top is a still from the Alaskan version (dir. Anna Hoover); in the middle, the Northwest Territories version (dir. Jerri Thrasher); and on the bottom, the Greenland version (dir. Pipaluk Jørgensen and Johannes Lynge).

Photo Courtesy of ImagiNATIVE Film Festival/Jason Ryle

Tell me about your film, The Last Walk.

This was my directorial debut. The International Sami Film Institute (in partnership with the Nunavut Film Development Corp.) created, for the first time, an Inuit Circumpolar group of filmmakers. We called ourselves the Arctic Film Circle (including Inuit Nunangat, Kalaallit Nunaat, Sapmi, Siberian Yupik/Chukchi and Inupiat). It was this group that collectively wrote what is now The Last Walk (2017). We brought back the scripts and adapted it the best we could to our regions in the circumpolar Arctic. Any which way we wrote this script, we were always going to write in themes of raising awareness and advocacy for our young people and [the] issues they face. While we were writing The Last Walk, I felt that it was important to go against the grain of what is usually portrayed. I was nervous, but, with the full support of these notable and amazing filmmakers, I gained confidence in this new area. During production, we made sure that the majority of cast and crew were Inuit. [Another] Inuvialuk woman in film, Tamara Voudrach, was an integral part of this production and she mentored me in the directing chair as our first assistant director. I don’t believe we could have accomplished what we did without her expertise and knowledge. Artless Collective Inc. out of Yellowknife produced the film with us, which was a very exciting collaboration.

Where do folklore and mythology tie into your work?

As I had mentioned earlier, I work both in a contemporary and traditional style. For The Last Walk, I used some themes from the mythology surrounding Tulugaq, the raven trickster. For my next fiction narrative, Seacrets, I will be including elements of Sedna, the sea goddess. This new film will also tie in themes around ‘The Sixties Scoop’ and the importance of regaining and maintaining your cultural identity.

I’m encouraging Inuvialuit to continue to create artistic content by us and for us. We should be our first audiences; when I write these films, I’m not writing them for southern audiences.

What have you learned about folklores from working with other Arctic filmmakers?

That we have more similarities than not. I’ve travelled to these regions to work with these filmmakers and have felt a great sense of community and understanding. It was exciting – the first time we sat down and told each other the different adaptations to certain mythologies. For example, universally, we all have stories based around the horror genre. Sedna is depicted in slightly different views, such as her appearance and the circumstances of her transformation. Also, they all have stories of ‘little people’, interestingly enough.

What else would you like people to know?

I’m encouraging Inuvialuit to continue to create artistic content by us and for us. We should be our first audiences; when I write these films, I’m not writing them for southern audiences. If there is content they may not understand, that is up to them to do their research. Don’t ever be afraid to show a different side within your art, as long as the intention is good and you understand the responsibility that’s required. In saying that there are things that I could’ve done differently, I am applying that new knowledge to my future work. My vision for the future is to see a large database that our people can access and especially in mainstream media. We’re definitely going to get there, one story at a time.