Taissumani, Jan. 29
The Fate of Uisaakassak
KENN HARPER
Last week I told of Uisaakassak’s return from America and the reaction of his fellow Inuit to his accounts of life in New York.
When Knud Rasmussen visited north-western Greenland on an expedition in 1903, Uisaakassak was living in the rich hunting grounds of Inglefield Fiord with his wife Aleqasinnguaq.
With her, he participated in the district’s general wife-exchange; that winter he and Piugaattoq, whose wife was named Aleqasina, often exchanged wives, sometimes for a night, but often for longer periods.
But Piugaattoq’s wife was not the only object of Uisaakassak’s attention, for the Inuit described him to one of the Dane’s on the expedition as a man “who has a bad habit of borrowing other men’s wives in an irregular way — that is, without the permission of the man in question.”
Uisaakassak was an intelligent man but temperamental. While he could be good-humoured and entertaining, he was at the same time greedy and acquisitive and “not the kind of person who would offer to help people who could not be expected to do something for him in return.”
In 1905, Uisaakassak, with a few of his kinsmen, moved farther south than the Inughuit had ever lived, to Tuttulissuaq, the great caribou land. On the shores of Melville Bay, it was a haven for caribou, polar bear, narwhal and seal. Uisaakassak was the unquestioned leader of the small camp he established there.
A fearless man of many talents, he did not hesitate to challenge a bear with only a harpoon and a flensing knife. He was, moreover, a man of imagination and a bit of a dreamer. He had always felt himself superior to his fellows and his stay in America had confirmed that, indeed, there were places in the world where individuals could depart from the norm and excel, while incurring not the scorn but the respect of their countrymen.
He had been badly humiliated by the sharp tongue of Soqqaq shortly after his return, but here at Tuttulissuaq he had found a place where he might restore his reputation, so unjustly ruined through the ignorant consensus of his countrymen.
Knud Rasmussen visited Uisaakassak at his camp in 1907. The man regaled his visitor with hunting stories, recounted over generous feasts of polar bear, narwhal and caribou. Uisaakassak’s meat racks were full and he was proud to display this evidence of his prowess to the infrequent guests who chanced to pass by.
Rasmussen continued northward and tried to restore the reputation of Uisaakassak, for whom he had felt a great deal of sympathy, by assuring the Inuit that he was, after all, not such a fabricator of tales as they had thought.
But he was cautioned, “Yes, Uisaakassak was a great hunter, he had the best dogs, and was awfully good company; but you could never believe what he told you, for he was incorrigible and full of lies.”
For some reason Uisaakassak and his band moved back to Inglefield Bay some time after 1907. He was there in 1909. He and Aleqasinnguaq had separated before the move to Tuttulissuaq, and he had taken another wife.
But the new wife had died and soon after his return Uisaakassak had decided that he needed not one but two wives to replace her. He stole Aleqasinnguaq back from her husband and took the wife of another hunter as well. Worse, he arrogantly taunted Aleqasinnguaq’s husband, Sigluk, deriding him for his loneliness while reminding him publicly of his wife’s erotic abilities.
But he had picked a formidable enemy. Sigluk had recently been with Peary to the farthest north and he had received rich rewards from the explorer for his services. Such a man could not lose a wife to an incorrigible liar like Uisaakassak! So Sigluk bided his time.
One day in the summer of 1910, the great Uutaaq, Peary’s chief guide, arrived at the village by kayak. He too had a problem. His wife had died the previous year and it was proving hard to find a new one, for men out-numbered women in the district by quite a margin.
One day narwhal were seen in Inglefield Bay. The men of the village took to their kayaks. But it was not narwhal which occupied the thoughts of Sigluk and Uutaaq.
Here they had the chance for a simple solution to both their problems. Sigluk shot Uisaakassak, but hit him only in the shoulder. Uutaaq finished the job with a bullet through the head.
Uisaakassak rose momentarily as if to speak, then slid from his kayak into the frigid waters of Inglefield Bay. He was 35 years old and left no children.
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).