NAPACHEE
NAPACHEE
A NOVEL BY
ROBERT FEAGAN
Copyright © Robert Feagan, 2007
First edition 1999
Second edition 2007
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
Editor: Joy Gugeler
Production and Cover Design: Teresa Bubela
Text Design: Jen Hamilton
Printer: Webcom
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Feagan, Robert, 1959-Napachee : a novel / by Robert Feagan.
ISBN 978-1-55002-636-8
1. Inuit—Juvenile fiction. I. Title.
PS8561.E18N36 2007jC813'.54C2007-901099-7
123451110090807
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and The Association for the Export of Canadian Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program, and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.
Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credit in subsequent editions.
J. Kirk Howard, President
Printed and bound in Canada.
Printed on recycled paper.
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To my grandfather, Chester Feagan,
and to my parents Hugh and Marj
who nourished my vivid imagination.
Table of Contents
Cover page
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Glossary
ONE
The young polar bear lifted its head and sniffed the breeze as it swept across the barren expanse of the arctic tundra. It was an incredible May morning; the eternal darkness of a long northern winter had faded into a brilliant northern "spring". The cub stood on its hind legs struggling to identify the strange scent that floated on the wind. It carried fear and adventure and the discovery of things unseen. Returning to all fours, the cub timidly set forward.
Suddenly, a low reproachful growl startled the cub so that it turned to acknowledge its mother approaching and scampered to her side. She continued to scold it for wandering too far from sight, nuzzling it with her nose and flipping it over onto its back. Her mouth opened, large and tongue-filled, and she licked the cub's small, angular face. With one more nudge she pushed it back onto its feet and towards the water.
The cub's mother slowly but gracefully followed behind her young one, stopping only to take a deep breath of the breeze. She knew the smell of man and the danger that could travel with it. She would not feel secure until that scent was far, far away.
Napachee held his breath. He closed his left eye, looked along the sight and pulled the trigger. The rifle shot rang in his ears as he realized he had, in fact, closed both eyes. He heard his father's soft laughter and knew his shot had not been a good one. Chuckling, his father pointed at the target they had set up on the snow some yards away. Napachee looked at it closely only to find that there was no mark on it at all! He had missed it completely!
"You must be patient," Enuk said. "You are too anxious to shoot and do not think. Keep both of your hands steady and squeeze the trigger slowly. We have been hunting these lands for many years and it is our patience that has helped us survive. You will learn this patience as I did, and your grandfather before me."
Enuk looked at his son. Napachee had handsome traditional Inuit features: his straight black hair and wide cheekbones framed dark, wide-set almond eyes and a broad, but finely chiselled, nose. He had a strong stocky build, with broad shoulders and muscular arms and legs. His dark skin was tanned from the spring sun reflecting off the arctic snow. Enuk looked like an older version of his son, though he had shorter hair and a set, determined mouth.
Napachee and his father had been out on the land for almost a week, hunting and camping as they went. Caribou were nearby, and they had been following them patiently. High in the treeless tundra, the wind seemed never-ending as it blew across the open expanse, but it packed the snow into a hard covering that supported a fully loaded snowmobile and sled.
In the dead of winter the sun disappeared and the land was enveloped in twenty-four hours of darkness, but it was now May and the first signs of the arctic spring had begun to show themselves. It was only -10 today, and the sun was shining brightly off the snowy crystals beneath Napachee's feet. Both father and son wore caribou parkas, mittens and pants, warm woolly socks and fur boots called kamiks, each item made by Napachee's mother. Normally, he felt happy to be out with his father, but he had other things on his mind.
"What if I can never learn to be patient?" Napachee asked. "What if I can never become the great hunter you think I will be?"
"You will learn," Enuk said softly, smiling. "You will learn and you will feel the same pride all your ancestors felt before you."
"What if I do not wish to learn?" Napachee blurted. "What if I do not wish to be a hunter?"
"What is it? Why do you speak this way?" Enuk said, a worried expression on his face.
Napachee was almost fourteen. He had known for some time that he was not interested in the land and the hunt. When he was younger he had loved going out with his father. Despite what he had just said he knew he was already a very good hunter, but now at night, when he lay awake in bed, he dreamed of greater things; things that were only found in large cities. He had seen these cities on TV and read about them in school. He was fascinated by what he might find there and eager for adventure.
"I do not have the love of the land that you have," Napachee said quietly. "I have outgrown the North, and I have outgrown the hunt. I want to see a city, to live there, to experience something different."
Enuk scowled at his son. He had sensed recently that Napachee was growing distant. From a young age his son had reminded Enuk of his own father. The boy had always been at home on the land and possessed a gift for tracking animals where others could not. To Enuk's dismay this had changed in the last year.
"You will be a hunter!" Enuk replied firmly. "We have always been hunters and we always will be hunters! Do not argue with me."
"But Father, I cannot—"
"That is enough!" Enuk scolded firmly. "I do not want to hear any more of this nonsense. Help me load the sled and we will go home."
They loaded the equipment from the igloo they had built for shelter onto the low flat sled, a komatik, in silence. As his father hitched the dogs, Napachee fastened their belongings to it in preparation to leave. The dogs tugged excitedly against the fan hitch at the front of the sled and spread out across the hard-packed snow in anticipation of the journey. With a soft click of Enuk's tongue, the dogs lunged ah
ead while both father and son jogged alongside. The komatik sped up and Napachee slid on behind his father.
Napachee fought back tears on the bumpy ride home. His father was blind! The world had changed and his father still wanted to live in the past. Everything his father did frustrated Napachee. He tried to understand his father, but the harder he tried the harder it became. They seemed to live in two different worlds. Forty years ago, his father had been born on the land near Cambridge Bay on Victoria Island. He was Inuit and spoke Inuktitut. Cambridge Bay was a small community of only a thousand people, and although it had seemed small, it had been home to Napachee until two years ago.
When Napachee had turned twelve, his father had decided to move west to Sachs Harbour on Banks Island where people were less influenced by the ways of the South. Sachs Harbour was even smaller than Cambridge Bay! People who lived here were Inuvialuit and spoke a different dialect called Inuvialuktun.
Napachee could speak Inuktitut fluently and the Inuvialuktun dialect was very similar so he could understand and speak it well enough to communicate. But all of his new friends, even if they could speak their own Inuvialuktun dialect, spoke English at school and at the game hall.
Napachee's father spoke to him in Inuktitut and expected Napachee to answer him in the same fashion. Enuk's distant relatives had been a mix of Inuvialuit and Inuit and he had hoped the move to Sachs Harbour would bring his family closer to the culture shared by both regions.
And if language wasn't enough to set him apart, there were also his father's old-fashioned ways. Most people used canvas tents when they went hunting, wore parkas bought at the local Co-op store and used snowmobiles to speed across the ice. Napachee's father insisted on chopping snow blocks to build igloos while they were out on the land, wore caribou clothing fashioned by Napachee's mother and used dog sleds to go hunting.
As they made the bumpy journey home, Napachee gazed out across the sea ice. His face was hot from the sun and snow, and sleep began to drift over him. A comfortable darkness wrapped around his thoughts, and enveloped him in a dream world. Napachee felt himself drifting towards a faint light in the distance. In the dream the brightness grew stronger and became the beckoning lights of a city far off on the horizon.
As the days passed, the sun lifted itself higher above the horizon in one continuous sunset: orange, pink and blue. The polar bear cub could see Okpik, the snowy owl soaring high above in search of prey. His ballet-like flight hypnotized the young bear as the bird soared and dropped with ease on the currents of air. He seemed to hang motionless, and then without warning dove at an unseen prey. The air exploded in a white cloud of feathers as an unsuspecting ptarmigan was caught in mid-flight, plummeting to the ground in a death spiral.
The snow felt crisp under the cub's paws and it bounded ahead to climb a great bank to get a better view of the surrounding landscape. Suddenly, it heard a faint but approaching humming sound. It had never heard this sound before and although it sensed danger it continued towards the top of the snowbank. It placed its paw on the crest of the bank and lifted its nose to look over. A gust of wind rushed against its face and a deafening roar filled its ears. A huge creature rose up in the air, and roared with all its might. The cub turned to run and tumbled down the bank.
Dizzy from its quick descent, the cub shook its head and began again to run. The creature followed from above; its broad shadow danced ahead on the glistening snow. In a split second, the cub felt a stabbing pain in its back and fell to the ground. It tried to rise, but could not and an unfamiliar dryness filled its mouth.
The cub lay on its side, its tongue hanging lifelessly out of its mouth. It turned its eyes skyward and saw the beast directly above. Heat swept its face and made the snow dance in a circle around the cub's body. The form slowly lowered itself to the ground and settled some distance from the cub's motionless body. Darkness was closing in. Two strange faces swam before the cub's eyes, then faded to black. That night a feast was held at the community centre. Caribou were rare near Sachs Harbour (they seldom swam across to the island) and hunters had just returned with a catch to be shared with elders and others who were not able to participate in the hunt themselves.
Napachee sat and listened as the drummers told their stories through song and dance. The drums were made from hoops of wood with animal skins stretched over their surface. When accompanied by songs in Inuvialuktun or Inuktitut the dancers moved in rhythm, telling the story of the hunt and the animals that had been captured with the movement of their bodies. Napachee watched as one of the dancers moved forward to mimic the throwing of a harpoon.
Napachee had always enjoyed listening to the stories of his grandfather and the other elders, but tonight he could not keep his mind on the songs of the hunt. The argument he had with his father kept repeating in his mind. When he tried to tell his father things about life in the South or things he learned in school, his father changed the subject. When he had asked for a computer last Christmas his father had given him a new rifle and scope. No matter what he said his father refused to listen. It was only with his mother's help that he managed to convince his father to order him more modern clothes from the South.
"What's wrong?" Napachee's mother asked now. "You are not with us tonight."
"Today I told Father I do not want to be a hunter, but he wouldn't listen. He doesn't care what I want; he only cares about what he wants!"
"Your father loves you very much, Napachee, but he is afraid of what you say. The way of the South is very different from ours and the city is not a place that has been kind to our people. Enuk wants you to be happy, but he does not know how to tell you his feelings. Be patient. Soon you will be old enough to decide for yourself what you really want, and your father will accept your decision."
"He will never understand me. Sometimes I think no one will. I see the same faces every day, nothing ever changes. I can walk from one end of town to the other in ten minutes. Father says that the land is ours and it keeps our spirits free. He is wrong! The land and the ocean around us are a trap! A trap that keeps me here and keeps me from finding where I really belong!"
Napachee slipped into silence and stared across the crowded hall. "I heard there are some white men in town from the South. Pannik saw them today. I am going to visit them tomorrow."
"Do not encourage him, Talik!"
Napachee's father had overheard their conversation and burst in angrily.
"You know nothing of the world and are not old enough to know what is right. All of this talk about computers and television and the city. If children keep leaving for the South and show no interest in our traditions soon they will all be forgotten. Your friends don't even speak their own language! They watch television instead of going hunting with their fathers, or hang around the game hall in the evenings instead of listening to the elders. What good will all this lead to? The more you go to school the more you want to move to the South. You are not to speak of these things again Napachee! Our way of life has been good enough for us for centuries and it will be good enough for you! You are not to go near the white men. Instead, you will go with me tomorrow when I go hunting." With that Enuk turned to leave.
"You are blind Father! Can't you see that our own community is getting smaller every day? One by one everyone is moving south and finding real work! The white man's ways are better than ours!"
"Enough!" Enuk replied angrily.
Napachee rose quickly and stormed across the crowded hall. Enuk saw the rage in Napachee's eyes and watched as he disappeared into the crowd. The angry face that he saw was his son's, but it was a son he felt he no longer knew.
"I don't know what he wants from me, Talik," Enuk said to his wife. "I look at him and I see the same boy I have always known. But I speak to him and I realize that he is only the same on the outside. No matter what I say he refuses to accept that I know what is best for him."
"He is just a boy," Talik said, "but he is a boy with a man struggling to grow inside of him. He is conf
used. You have to be patient. I will go and try to talk to him," Talik said, her eyes searching the crowd for her son.
Enuk shook his head and slowly walked away.
"How can Father not understand!" Napachee blurted when she sat beside him. "Every time I want to do something or speak my own mind he refuses to accept my ideas! He treats me like a child!"
"He is just trying to do what he feels is best for you." Talik moved closer and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. Napachee pulled away and stood up suddenly. He had to get out of there!
He pushed his way across the hall, out the door and into the darkness of the night, running as fast as he could between the houses and out onto the sea ice of the harbour. He collapsed and rolled onto his back, gasping for breath. He could see the blue and green swirl of the Northern Lights high above him. As tears clouded his vision, the lights took the shape of his father's face. The fog of his frozen breath rose into the night sky.
TWO
The polar bear cub shuddered and began to regain consciousness. It was dimly aware of unfamiliar sounds and surroundings. As it struggled to open its eyes, a terrible pain shot through its head and the bars of a cage came into focus.
James Strong had captured many animals in his long career as a zookeeper. They had surprised this polar bear cub with the helicopter and it had been an easy target for the tranquillizer gun. He was relieved to see the cub beginning to waken. It had been asleep far too long and he had started to question whether the dose of tranquillizer they had administered had been too strong.
"There, there. You will feel sluggish for a while but you will get better. You'll have plenty of rest on the journey ahead." James had travelled to Sachs Harbour to complete one task and one task alone. To capture two polar bear cubs and transport them to the zoo in Edmonton. He was dedicated to the preservation of wildlife and saw the zoo as a means of educating others to respect the animals and their place in nature.
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