August 15, 2003
The best of both worlds
Healthy food, good companionship
KIRSTEN
MURPHY
CLICK
PHOTO TO ENLARGE
A clam digger scouring
the shore for clam holes. (PHOTOS BY KIRSTEN MURPHY))
|
The boat's cabin fills
with the sweet aroma of boiled seal. Steaming slabs of meat are pulled from
the bubbling pot and placed on cardboard.
Members of the Kunuk family
crouch down and dive into the dark, flavourful meat, mixing the tender morsels
with mustard-soaked pickles.
Country food is one of
the healthiest forms of wild meat. Marine mammals are full of omega-3 fatty
acids, which fight heart disease. Caribou is lean and full of protein.
While debate continues
about regulating traditional Inuit foods, especially in the wake of Mad Cow
disease, thousands of Nunavut families enjoy year-round the same kind of meat
and fish their ancestors subsisted on.
CLICK
PHOTO TO ENLARGE
Tony Ashoona making
one of many pots of tea.
|
In the summers, boating
trips are one way of stocking up freezers. More than food gathering ventures,
though, the overnight excursions are about sharing traditional knowledge, skills
and drinking lots and lots of tea.
A recent weekend boating
trip began Friday after work at high tide.
With Iqaluit still in sight,
Methusalah Kunuk and his brother drop a net. Twenty minutes later, nine Arctic
char are flip-flopping on the deck.
The 28-foot boat speeds
down the bay and the fish are cleaned, gutted and cut into pieces. By the end
of the long weekend, two caribou, one seal and clams have been harvested. A
wolf, bowhead whale and various birds are spotted but not killed.
Qamaniq Kunuk, 21 months,
is the youngest of the group. Unconcerned about who feeds him, the chubby-cheeked
boy happily accepts fresh fish from various outstretched hands. He gobbles up
the char, the same way he devours cheesies and peaches.
CLICK
PHOTO TO ENLARGE
Michael
Qappik gutting a seal, while a new generation of hunters watches
|
A massive kettle sits on
the Coleman stove within the boat's cabin. Despite the never-ending cups of
tea, one female passenger limits her beverage intake. Unlike the men who relieve
themselves off the edge of the boat, women must squat on a coffee can, or wait
for land.
There are nine people on
the trip, five adults and four youths between the ages of 21 months to 17 years.
Philip Ningeongat is in the middle in terms of age. At 17, the avid biker, skateboarder
and snowmobiler knows the hunting trips, summer or winter, make him a stronger,
wiser young man.
The second day of the
trip begins at 6:30 a.m. Tony Ashoona pumps the stove full of fuel and boils
the first of many pots of tea. Bannock is passed around while people wipe sleep
from their eyes.
The boat bounces and crashes
along the swelling sea. Some people search for caribou through binoculars, others
take turns napping in a crawl space that is layered with mattresses and sleeping
bags.
CLICK
PHOTO TO ENLARGE
Philip
Ningeongat, 17, munching on a cracker while steering a dinghy back to his family's
28-foot power boat.
|
By mid-afternoon, the group
arrives at the family's cabin. Once the food coolers and bags are unloaded into
the unfinished cabin, Methusalah sits down for a game of cribbage with his brother,
Paul.
Methusalah started building
the cabin, about an hour from Iqaluit, after he discovered a piece of an old
boat of his washed up on shore.
The location is remote
and spectacular. In early summer a fast-moving stream provides delicious drinking
water. The rushing stream flows into a small lake, which divides a homemade
two-hole golf course.
A drying rack for char
sits was built near the cabin. By September, the surrounding tundra will be
blanketed in berries.
CLICK
PHOTO TO ENLARGE
Qamanirq
Kununk opening up for a piece of peach. The toddler enjoys a healthy balance
of country food and store bought food.
|
Outside, the kids start
their own game. Caribou antlers are placed upright in sand. From several metres,
the youths take turns lassoing the antlers with rope, like cowboys rustling
cattle. A successful landing is met with quiet cheers.
That night, after a dinner
of fresh char, vegetables and sweet tea, two more boatloads of people arrive.
A canvas tent is set up outside to accommodate the overflow of bodies.
The next morning, Michael
Qappik shoots a seal on a nearby piece of ice. His children and nephews watch
silently as the mammal's fat and rich, bloody meat is removed.
His wife, Maggie Qappik,
who is Methusalah's daughter, grew up watching her relatives hunt and fish.
Packing up their kids, the food, the gear and their dog Twee-Twee (short for
Tweedie) to go camping, takes patience and time, she says, but is worth the
effort.
"[What I enjoy are]
no phones, no television and no distractions. I want my kids to know how we
grew up, the Inuit way," Qippik says.
|