Taissumani, Jan. 15
More Thoughts on Polar Dark
Peter Freuchen
KENN HARPER
Last week I described the terror experienced by Suersaq (Hans Hendrik) during the dark period of his first winter in the High Arctic among the Inughuit, the so-called Polar Eskimos.
But for the Polar Eskimos themselves, accustomed to living in high latitudes, the approach of the winter dark was a welcome event.
Rasmussen noted, of his first winter among them, that to the Polar Eskimos “the first dark evenings are hailed with the same glee as the first daylight, after the polar night. Up there, as here [he was writing in Denmark], people like change. When, a whole summer through, your eyes have been bathed in light, day and night, you long to see the land vanish softly into the darkness again, that the stars and the moon may light their lamps.”
The Inuit there associated the approach of the dark period with all the good things that winter brought with it: “the frozen sea, and the hunting on the ice, and the swift sledge-drives, far from the sweltering houses, after bears.”
Rasmussen added: “’Ha! Now the dark nights are coming, soon the ice will close in the sea!’ the men cry, as they meet, towards evening.
“’Be glad, for soon blubber lamps shall light those who go out to fetch meat…,’ others call out.”
Peter Freuchen, in writing of his first winter at the Thule trading post in Uummannaq (North Star Bay), noted that October 19th was the day when the sun dipped below the horizon for the winter. This was the beginning of a dark period of over 120 days – the sun would not be seen again until late February. “One might think the natives would regret its going, but they rejoice instead,” he wrote. “The long summer, with the sun always circling overhead, is tiresome. We live in tents then, and it is impossible to make these dwellings dark at any time. It is broad daylight when you wake up, and broad daylight when you go to sleep. Your eyes ache for darkness, and as soon as the sun disappears the women cry out in pleasure:
‘Oh, joy and happiness! Now at last the sum is away. Now comes the winter when we shall hear from the other fjords, and we ourselves shall go and visit. Now comes the time of walrus hunting and the seals will be at the blowholes. Joy and happiness!’”
In Igloolik, well south of the latitude of Qaanaaq but still considerably above the Arctic Circle, the sunless period of midwinter was known as Tauvikjuaq – the great darkness. There, it lasts almost seven weeks. As John MacDonald has noted in his masterful work, The Arctic Sky, these were weeks of “relative inactivity, anxiety, and privation.” Elders recalled it as a time of hardship. Sacred words known as irinaliutit were invoked to ensure that the winter would pass without adversity, especially during the coldest period and during the early winter when snow and ice conditions were generally unsuited to safe sled travel. At this time, travel was limited and so communication with distant camps and far-off relatives was limited.
Piugaattuk, an Iglulik elder, sang a song that characterizes the uncertainties of this time of year. It is recorded by MacDonald:
“Eya – I am anxious to hear, I am anxious to hear
From there beyond eya, ya.
The fur has gone from my boot upper.
I am anxious to hear from there beyond.
Eya – I am anxious to hear, I am anxious to hear,
About the clothing they wear.
I am anxious to hear, I am anxious to hear
About their food supply, I sit idle.
I sit idle in the confines of the igloo.
I sit idle, I sit idle, waiting to hear.”
The Arctic is vast and diverse. Different latitudes and varying ice and travel conditions result in differing perceptions of what the dark period of early winter will bring. Rasmussen, who straddled two cultures, found poetry in the time when the sun circles lower toward the horizon: “Light and darkness wrestle in blood-red sunsets, and the clouds with the light behind them, crimson-gashed, glide out into the night.”
Taissumani recounts a specific event of historic interest. Kenn Harper is a historian, writer and linguist who lives in Iqaluit. Feedback? Send your comments and questions to .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).
