Have a heart!

I read today that Michaelle Jean, Canada's Governor General, ate a raw seal heart when she visited a festival in Rankin Inlet, an Inuit community in Nunavut. Apparently, the EU voted to ban Canadian seal products recently, and an EU spokesman described the Governor General's actions as "too bizarre to acknowledge."

What a completely ignorant statement to make.

Mention seal hunting to most Europeans, and they will picture fluffy baby seals being clubbed over the head by unfeeling, profit seeking fishermen. Ask them what they think, and most will comment that such practices are inhumane and should be banned. Now, I must say that a few years ago I too would have been one of those Europeans, but living and working with the Inuit has changed my view on this issue.

The ability to hunt seal and other animals is what sustained the Inuit as a race for century upon century. Their meat and skins were absolutely vital for survival, and although all the trappings of the south are now readily available, the ability to hunt is still prized and cultivated amongst the people of the North. The notion of hunting is in the genes, and to use words such as 'bizarre' when talking about this subject is not just ignorant; it is insulting.

Whilst the encroachment of southern ways has brought many advantages to the North, the Inuit people have also been dealt many abuses, both psychologically and socially, as a result. Changes that took centuries to take hold in the south have been made in just a couple of generations in the North, so the maintenance of what is a strong cultural heritage should be encouraged. The eating of 'country food', as the Inuit refer to it, forms part of that heritage, and I count myself as fortunate to have first-hand experience, just as Michaelle Jean now has.

The motivation and methods of those that hunt seal for profit could, and perhaps should, be questioned. However, the hunting of seal in communities such as Rankin Inlet is of a completely different nature, and I would like to see that EU spokesman make a visit to the North so that in future his comments could be more informed. I doubt that will happen though; pigs will fly sooner.

Oh, but wait a minute - haven't we already had swine flu?

Did you see what I did there? 'Flu' sounds just like 'flew', and I was talking about pigs flying.....

Never mind.

Culture Club

WARNING
This is one of those posts that contains images of a highly graphic, animal-entrails-all-over-the-floor nature, so the squeamish amongst you might not want to read on!

It's been culture week at Innalik (the High School here) this week, and yesterday afternoon was 'show and tell' as Caroline, the centre director at my school, put it. Now, I've participated in a few 'show and tell' lessons in my time, both as student and teacher, and most of them ended up becoming a narrated display of the latest toys, with possibly the odd family pet or grandfather's old telescope thrown in for good measure. At Innalik, there were no toys or telescopes to be seen, and I hope to high Heaven that the animals on show were not family pets.

Innalik's show and tell afternoon provides an opportunity for village elders to teach the students the type of traditional skills, techniques and games that are sadly being eroded from memory as Southern culture becomes more and more influential; for a qallunaat like myself (qallunaat being the Inuit term for a white person), it is like being a part of the CSI team's annual outing to the abattoir.

My journey around the hall began innocently enough. I was able to observe a local craftsman demonstrate his carving technique, watch an elder teach the youngsters a traditional game and see a fine example of an oil-burning lamp, or qulliq:

However, most interest centred on the more, shall I say, 'graphic' demonstrations:

Caribou were gutted...

...foxes were skinned...

...and seals were...well, let's just say that this used to be a seal

All in all it was a fascinating afternoon; it was certainly not what I'm used to, but it hammered home the fact that what each culture perceives to be 'correct' or 'normal' is just that - a perception. The use of the land's resources is a way of life here, and the passing down of the skills on display in Innalik's hall forms a vital part of the continuation of a rich and proud heritage.

And it also makes for a unique show and tell.

What the phoque?

Dominick and Dave, Quebecois both, came into my classroom at break this morning, and upon staring out of the window they both started swearing profusely. At least to my ears they did. Naturally concerned as to the source of such profanity, I too looked out of said window and was directed to a group of black dots on the horizon.

"F**k!" said Dave.

"F**k!" said Dominick.

"I'm sorry...?" said I.

It was only then that it was explained to me that the French word for seal is phoque which, comically, sounds almost identical to the English word f**k. I now feel very disgruntled that, by not teaching us about seals, all my French teachers at school denied my classmates and I the obvious amusement that we could have derived from this situation.

It also explains why Seal can't walk down any street in Quebec without people tittering behind his back.