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SEX ED: WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW

June 14, 2002 - Sexual health...

Nunani

June 7, 2002 - In the bones of the world (Part two)
June 14, 2002 - In the bones of the world (Part three)
June 21, 2002 - In the bones of the world (Part four)
June 28, 2002 - In the bones of the world (Part five)

SEX ED: WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW

June 14, 2002

Sexual health...

Keep talking

After discussing chlamydia, HIV, gonorrhea, hepatitis, warts, syphilis, trichomoniasis and scabies, it should be clear that the consequences of sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) range from an annoying itch to certain death.

STD prevention is all about understanding risks and knowing how to minimize them.

If you choose to be sexually active, use condoms and limit the number of partners you are with. We can all do the math — fewer bodies coming together means less risk of infection. Condoms alone may not be sufficient to prevent pregnancy.

While sex is natural and should be fun — it comes with responsibility. The mechanics of sex are simple, but the consequences, both physical (pregnancy and infection) and emotional, can be enormous and complex.

The most difficult lessons both to teach and to learn about sexuality are not about how the pill works or how to know you get an STD. They are about how to have healthy relationships. The soft skills — communication in an atmosphere of trust, desire and goodwill between partners — are a lifetime challenge.

Believe it or not, most of what sex is about happens above the shoulders. Our brains are there to receive and process all the physical messages we get from touch, the words we hear and the "chemistry" between partners in intimate relationships.

Canadian youth in the North and all over the country are exploring sex when they are still very young. Health Canada says the average age when kids start to be sexually active is now below age 13.

In any sexual encounter, consent is essential - both people need to be involved willingly. Early sexual experiences — good or bad - shape a young person’s ability to have healthy relationships for years to come.

Children learn how to relate to one another by observing the behaviour around them. Commodification of sex by the mainstream media does little to help kids figure out the ways of the world.

We can all work to let youth exercise their rights: control over their own bodies and access to information, birth control and health care. Parents, educators and health-care workers can teach that sexuality is a part of all of humanity — something to be embraced, enjoyed and respected, rather than feel guilty or uninformed about.

I’ve been told that it is not the Inuit way to speak or write openly about sex — the truth is, it’s not the qallunaat way either.

I have written as a physician concerned about the health of young Nunavummiut. Young people in the South have also been failed by a system that does not provide good education about healthy sexuality. I hope these columns have got people talking.

Thanks for the e-mails and to the young folks who have begun to take better care of their bodies. I am particularly appreciative of the feedback from older Inuit women — thank you for your teachings. Indeed, we need to know more about Inuit-specific beliefs about sexuality.

Soon we hope to have the birth of a new biweekly column written by different health-care professionals covering a range of health-related topics. But it’s always fun to think about sexuality — so I will slip in a contribution now and again.

While there is much to know about healthy sexuality, understanding birth control options and how to prevent sexually transmitted diseases is an essential start. Thanks for reading.

We hope to put together a booklet based on the columns written over the past six months.

If there are other sex ed topics you think should be included, please send an

e-mail with your suggestions to nunatsiaqsexed@hotmail.com.

Want to read past Sex Ed columns? Go to www.nunatsiaq.com and click on columns.

Madeleine Cole is a physician at Baffin Reginal Hospital.

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Nunani

June 7, 2002

In the bones of the world (Part two)

RACHEL ATTITUQ QITSUALIK

"Quit joking," the hunter said to the stranded dwarf, more than a little spooked.

But the dwarf just kept on chuckling, saying:

"I’m not joking. All my people make themselves light or heavy at will. We do it all the time. It’s easy. I had forgotten that your kind can’t."

By the time the dwarf had finished this statement, the hunter had realized that this was not a human being he was speaking to. He had heard his father and uncles tell stories of these people, the "Tunit." They were a folk who possessed strange powers and knowledge, but lacked common sense. While they made many wondrous things, they were not as cunning as Inuit, and so remained few in number.

This explained why the stranded dwarf owned such a fabulous bow, why he wore such fine clothing, and yet seemed to lack the good sense to pull his kayak out of the water when he wasn’t using it. It explained why he was stranded, why, as the dwarf had stated, his kayak had drifted away for "the third time this season."

And now this Tunik wanted a ride back home. The hunter was scared to oblige him, since he didn’t really understand what kind of creature he was dealing with here. Would the Tunik kill him along the way? Once they arrived? If he simply refused the Tunik’s request, would the creature become angered and attack him? The hunter couldn’t see any good coming out of this.

The dwarf was now glaring at him, and asked:

"So, are you going to give me a ride or not?"

Seeing no alternative, the hunter agreed, and wriggled into his kayak. Once he was set, the dwarf took a flying leap, landing on the stern. The hunter winced, expecting to get doused with icy brine, but the kayak hardly even bobbed in the water.

He looked directly behind him, and there sat the Tunik, grinning fiercely, gripping the kayak with his legs. It was just as the Tunik had said: he now weighed little more than a feather.

So the two of them set off toward the Tunik’s home. The dwarf gave directions, insisting that it was only a couple of days away. They talked little along the way. The hunter was very frightened, and felt as though he was being kidnapped. The Tunik seemed to sense this, and held his tongue, perhaps hoping that it would minimize the Inuk’s stress.

What the Tunik did seem keen on was watching the hunter at all times. He seemed fascinated by the way the hunter did normal, everyday things. How he checked the ice and snow periodically. How he studied the weather patterns far off on the horizon. Even how he ate. It all made the hunter very edgy, and he was actually relieved by the time they came to the Tunit camp.

How does one go about describing a Tunit camp? The trick is to do the place justice in few words, for it is utterly inhuman, and therefore can never make much sense to our kind. But the hunter found himself there, as one of those rarest of Inuit does, experiencing it with his human faculties.

So we had best try to keep up with him, in terms that we can understand, if for no other reason than to facilitate the story. Let us just bear in mind that we look upon the Tunit through our own awkward little lens, as though trying to gaze through a window that is far, far away — and that the Tunit, in trying to comprehend us, might feel the same strangeness.

We can never fully understand what that hunter experienced. After all, he was a guest of the Tunit, and we were not.

Here resided a scene of unrivaled wealth and beauty, where even the most common sorts of tools were of a craftsmanship that the hunter had never before imagined. He could see now that the bow his companion bore, that which he had so admired, was very ordinary in comparison to the way the Tunit routinely fashioned their items.

Even the toys of the Tunit children were extravagant works of art. It was as though the Tunit would not tolerate that which was plain or ugly among them.

(Continued next week.)

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June 14, 2002

In the bones of the world (Part three)

Despite the dread that the hunter had borne since realizing the dwarf was not human, his awe at witnessing the Tunit camp was such that his heart began to fill with joy, eventually giving way even to laughter. Never had he beheld such perfection as existed among the Tunit.

For it was not simply the items crafted by the Tunit that were so fine. The beauty of such objects paled to that of the Tunit women. One of the many, many things that made the Tunit so strange was the great difference in the appearances of their men and women.

While the hunter noticed that all the men were, like his rescued companion, of dwarf-like stature, unsightly and dumpy-looking, the women were the complete opposite; theirs was a radiant, timeless beauty that he had never before envisioned.

The Tunik that had travelled with the hunter until now quickly spoke in his odd tongue to his fellow Tunit, gesturing at the hunter as he did so.

This is it, thought the hunter as he watched them, I’m as good as dead now.

But he was wrong. As quick as light flashes across water, smiles appeared upon the faces of the Tunit. They welcomed the hunter, bringing him sumptuous foods, and speaking of the feast hall that was to be built in his honour. They found him a luxurious place to rest, after which he awoke to find that all of his vulgar human belongings had been replaced with the finery that means Tunit craftsmanship. For a small eternity, he laughed to himself, pulling at the perfect string of the perfect bow they had given him — a weapon superior even to the bow possessed by his Tunik companion, that which he had at first so coveted upon meeting the dwarf.

So began the uncounted days of feasting, of dancing, of singing, of games and laughter that surrounded the hunter like a warm blanket does a child, dulling his memories of the world of men, so that it seemed he had always been one with the Tunit, counting himself among their number and ways.

For the Tunit seemed not to treat him any differently than one of their own, except perhaps in that they never tired of his company, always questioning, wondering at his mind, thinking him the wisest of beings for his knowledge of the land, his skill at hunting upon it and surviving without the powers innate to Tunit nature.

But they could not know that there was one other way in which the hunter always felt like an outsider while among them, a feeling that waxed like a cancer within him. Always in secret, always to himself, he wondered why none of the Tunit women offered themselves to him. With every attempt that he made at romance, the women would simply laugh in their ticklish, butterfly ways, brushing him off with the promise that they would meet up with him later. And later never came.

Time drew itself out. One day, the hunter snapped, muttering to himself,

"So I am like a favoured dog, one who is allowed to sleep in the entrance to the home, but not among the masters."

Firelight danced across his skin as he watched a Tunit female laughing next to him for the thousandth time, as the singing of others, in nearby tents, rang in his ears. But there was no return laughter this time. The day before, he had prepared his belongings, and he was ready to go. He intended to leave this place that had at last become empty for him. And he had arranged to be alone with this girl. There was one last thing to do.

Leaping up, he seized the girl, who at first assumed that the whole thing was play, and so did not resist him. He pulled her outside, sharply commanding that she silence her giggling, as he gazed away, off across the horizon. As he had guessed, the weather was perfect, and it was his intention to get away on foot.

"You like me, don’t you?" he whispered to her in a hot, low voice. "I like you. I want to be with you, and together we’ll leave this place."

She looked at him, stunned for a moment, as though unsure of what to say.

Then she screamed.

(Continued next week.)

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June 21, 2002

In the bones of the world (Part four)

The last thing the hunter had expected was to hear the girl scream.

He shook her violently, hissing through bared teeth,

"Shut up! Be silent, will you?"

Her mouth snapped shut. She regarded him through baleful eyes, clouded with tears. He cast furtive glances left and right, expecting the dwarfish males to rouse themselves, but there were none of her Tunit relatives in sight. He turned back to her.

"Look, there’s no need for that. I want you as my wife. I’ve stayed here too long. I’m not a Tunik. Don’t you want to meet my family?"

Her face was vacant, unreadable.

He took her by the wrist, moved from tent to tent, staying low, encouraging her to do likewise.

Eventually, they made their way out among the rocks, where there were places to hide. When the hunter at last could view the Tunit encampment from a distance, he straightened, quickening his pace. Then he turned to grin at the girl, pointing toward something in the distance and saying,

"Over there is the shore, where I placed my kayak. That’s where we’re going."

He was counting on what he knew of the Tunit ability to make themselves heavy or light at will, which was how he had originally rescued the stranded Tunik man from the ice-cake, so long ago. Now, he would make away with the Tunik girl in the same manner.

But at his words, the girl experienced a resurgence of panic. She wrenched herself from his grip, crying,

"Husband! Save me!"

"Husband?" the hunter gasped. He had never seen her with a husband, never in the entire time he had been among the Tunit.

For long moments, he watched her helplessly. Then a movement from the Tunit camp caught his attention. There was a distant, snaking line making its way toward them — a dogsled.

And here he was, caught on foot.

The girl was still screaming when the hunter bolted. Still, he would not leave her. He seized her wrist again.

"Come!" he snarled.

Now he was half-dragging her. Still, she cried aloud. But his lips pressed together in a grim line of determination. He doubled his pace, forcing her to keep up. He would not flee empty-handed from this place, like some bad dog with a stone at its heels. The kayak was near.

But the girl’s husband was almost upon them, and the hunter didn’t bother to look as he heard the sled-dogs approach. His hope was that the rocky ground would halt the qamutiq, forcing the dwarf to run after them. The hunter was sure that the stumpy males could not run well.

So he was surprised when he was suddenly seized by the shoulder and whirled around, and even further surprised when he looked into the face of the girl’s husband. For it was the very dwarf whom he had rescued upon the ice-cake.

The girl took the opportunity to tear herself away, while the dwarf shoved the hunter violently.

"Why did you do this?" cried the Tunik, while his wife huddled behind him. "Was I unkind? Does your breed normally steal wives? What’s wrong with you?"

There was a fragment of thought wherein the hunter truly thought of apologizing, of explaining his actions. But, by now, anxiety churned within him. Rage and fear wracked his face. He was the victim here, not the Tunit!

Blindly, he bolted one last time, but the Tunik caught him by his wrists. Like a trapped animal, the hunter writhed in the grasp of the dwarf, whose fingers were like stone.

The strength of the Tunit is many, many times that of men. So it was perhaps inevitable that there came the twin cracklings of bone giving way, the scream of the hunter’s mad agonies. The Tunik, shocked at the hunter’s fragility, instantly released him in surprise.

There were no words as the hunter fled, leaving the Tunit forever behind him. As before, he fled to his kayak, barely managing to get himself into the water. His wrists had been crushed.

Unable to paddle effectively, he drifted away and at last died alone. And thus did he fade from the memory of all living beings — all but any who listen to such tales as this.

(Next week: Who are the Tunit?)

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June 28, 2002

In the bones of the world (Part five)

The story that I have related over the past four articles is actually a fusion of two Inuit folktales, told in various forms all over the Arctic. These tales number among the many Inuit traditional stories featuring the Tunit - a strange, ancient people today represented within the framework of a peculiar mixture of paleoarchaeology and folklore.

The first tale was about a hunter who rescues a Tunik and is welcomed by the other Tunit as a hero. By itself, this is a "happily ever after" sort of tale.

The second story is of a hunter who tries to abduct a Tunik woman (again, the common female abduction theme in Inuit folklore). The Tunik woman's husband tries to restrain the hunter, but accidentally breaks his wrists, ultimately killing him.

Less commonly, you can find these tales told as a single story, and this is the way I chose to present them here. I wanted to provide a good, meaty example of typical Tunit-Inuit relations in the folklore, so that we can have a look at who the Tunit really are.

Let's deal with folklore first.

Tunit were the first people, those who were here before Inuit. As stated before, the males were commonly thought to be short and stumpy, dwarf-like, while the females looked just like the most beautiful of Inuit women.

The old stories agree on several points. First, the Tunit were prodigiously strong, even to the point of accidentally causing harm to Inuit. Second, they lacked practical survival knowledge. Third, they are now extinct.

Tales regarding their technology vary - some state that the Tunit were technologically lacking, having no knowledge of how to make proper clothing, fire or tools, and owning no sleds or dogs.

Conversely, many state that the Tunit were master craftsmen, existing at a level of skill that has never been seen before or since, and that when Inuit first settled in Tunit lands, it was the Tunit who taught them how to make bows and other valuable tools. Like mysterious, folkloric beings the world over, they were often thought to possess magical powers. Some tales speak of their ability to make themselves light or heavy at will, while others mention an ability to make themselves invisible.

The powers attributed to the Tunit are suspiciously similar to those attributed to another race of folkloric beings from Inuit tales - those known as "Inugarulliit." The Inugarulliit are much like the beings mentioned in the faery lore of Europe and the U.K. - tiny versions of Inuit, who can appear and disappear at will, and who sometimes exhibit various other magical abilities.

But while Inugarulliit can choose the size they want to appear, it is commonly said that they use lemmings as sled dogs. This would seem to imply that they are "normally" very diminutive, making them quite different from the Tunit - the males of whom are simply short.

Also, the folklore seems to agree that Inugarulliit technology is identical to that of Inuit, with tools and weapons so tiny they resemble toys. This, too, is very different from the Tunit, for Tunit tales seem to go out of their way to point out how abnormal the Tunit technology is, whether better or worse than that of Inuit.

Tales vary from area to area, and many change over time. Consequently, some stories have gradually come to confuse Tunit and Inugarulliit, so that one sort of folkloric people takes on aspects of the other. This is only aggravated by the fact that many of the written records we can access on Inuit folklore - tales recorded by explorers and scholars - use the English term "dwarf" to alternately describe either Inugarulliit or Tunit.

But whatever the reason, the nature of the Tunit has become more and more magical in Inuit folklore as the years have rolled by. Folklore has lent the Tunit something of the Inugarulliit nature over time, so that in many of the stories we know today, they exhibit magical abilities.

It might seem like nitpicking, discussing what supernatural powers have been attributed to the Tunit. But the importance of this becomes more clear when we remember that the Tunit were very real - a people known to modern science as the "Dorset" culture.

(Next week: the last Tunik.)

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