In Fond Remembrance of Me

by Howard Norman

  Then, toward suppertime, things went bitterly awry. Perhaps it was partly due to the exasperating work itself, no matter how much real progress was made; perhaps our ration of civility had been used up; there could have been any number of reasons. I had one more item to discuss with Mark, so I ventured forth. “Mark, when you say”—and I attempted to pronounce a passage in Inuit concerning the actual moment when the woolly mammoths are insulted by Noah and make the decision to flee underground (see “Why Woolly Mammoths Decided to Flee Underground,” p. 62)—“does that mean that one woolly elephant went under the ice because it was insulted, or does it mean …?”

  I was startled by the suddenness with which Mark scraped his chair back, rose with a fierce look of indignation on his face, and walked into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, his head hung like he had just received terrible news. Looking through the open doorway (there was in fact no door), I saw Mary sit next to Mark, all the while looking at me, offering two quick shrugs, What happened? Mary, I noticed, was wearing a brown button-down sweater over a pale yellow button-down sweater; the brown one looked to be directly buttoned to the yellow one, which was also buttoned its entire length. Mary turned off the radio, then spoke in low tones to Mark in their language. She must have convinced him of my best intentions, because Mark soon returned to the kitchen table. He sat down, sipped cold coffee without meeting my eyes. I grew quite anxious within this silence—it felt like a standoff, but over what, I had no idea. I too stared away.

  But in a moment I began more or less studying Mark’s face in its repose. Because now he didn’t appear angry at all; he looked at ease, if anything, lost in thought, as though some sort of erasure of conflict had occurred. Still, he did not look at me. But then he caught me studying his face. I must have been holding a blank stare, because he said, “Are you—a—hypnotist fellow?”

  “I apologize for staring, Mark. I think you mean that I looked hypnotized.”

  Mary sat down at the table. “We had a hypnotism fellow up here to visit at schools one time,” she said. “I mean to Churchill, then up to Eskimo Point, a few other places, too. A magician—he was funny. He tried to hypnotize my sister. It didn’t work.”

  Mark now imitated a metronome by tocking his pointer finger back and forth, then affected his own “hypnotized” blank expression, a man asleep with his eyes open. Outside of the formidable verbal comedy of incident and dialogue in his Noah stories, this brief miming was the boldest humor I’d yet to experience from Mark. (Helen said, “He’s one of the funniest people I’ve ever met.” We knew in Mark two different people. “He often makes me laugh. Perhaps you have to understand the language a bit more. Sorry.”)

  Helen simply walked into the house without knocking. Mark said, “Helen, my daughter—we were just telling this man, here, about something.”

  Helen kissed Mary on her forehead, kissed Mark on the top of his head. She looked at the flask. “Having fun?” she said to me.

  “We’ve been working all day,” I said.

  “How did it go?” Helen said, directing her question to Mark.

  “He caught a little,” Mark said. He half whispered something to Mary; they both abruptly left the house.

  “I feel like shit,” Helen said. “Excuse my French.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d want coffee. It tastes like mud with sugar in it.”

  “No thank you.”

  I shut off the reel-to-reel, closed my notebook, put the pen in my shirt pocket. “Well, that’s that.”

  “Mark suddenly looked pissed,” Helen said. “Why, do you suppose?”

  “I really don’t understand it,” I said. “Things were going along nicely.”

  “How nicely, Howard Norman?”

  “More nicely than usual.”

  “Of course, that’s not saying much.”

  “Thanks, Helen.”

  She looked around the kitchen. “Oh, chicken noodle soup. The specialty of the house.”

  “I actually had a meal with Mark. I didn’t care if it was canned soup or not. Things were going really well. We were going through a passage, in that woolly mammoth story, you know the one.”

  “Indeed, I do know it. It absolutely explains why we won’t be seeing any woolly mammoths on the horizon. It absolutely explains it.”

  “—and the mood changed.”

  “Mercurial, that man. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Sure, that’s it.”

  “But, look: you and Mark simply do not get on well at all. But I’m quite bored discussing the whys and wherefores of your situation. I wish to offer two words: Boo hoo. He sits with you most every day, doesn’t he? Probably, you shouldn’t expect much more than you’re already getting from Mark. That’s my word to the wise.”

  We sat a moment not talking. Helen took a sip of my coffee and spit it out, “Pfwooo!” Spit it all over my trouser leg.

  “Helen, you want to listen to the CBC after supper?”

  “I’ll have to type. But when I’m done, sure.”

  We did listen to the radio for quite a while. An opera, then a documentary about a Jewish Dutch cellist murdered during World War II, including testimonies from people who actually knew him. Then we talked awhile. As usual, we discussed our work with Mark, dissecting it from every possible angle. I guess I was still a bit bruised from what had occurred that afternoon; Helen picked up on this. “If it helps any,” Helen said, “Mark asked me what I thought of your work and I said good things.”

  “Yeah, but what does Mark himself think? Do you know, really?”

  “Next subject, please.”

  “Come on—consider it gossip. You know how much Mark loves gossip.”

  “He said you try very hard. He added that a baby fox tries very hard when it’s learning to piss in the snow. But it often pisses on its own leg.”

  WHY WOOLLY MAMMOTHS DECIDED

  TO FLEE UNDERGROUND

  I heard about Noah while sitting on a pew in church, but later, from an old man in our village, I found out what really happened.

  Noah and his family were starving. By the time their ark had drifted up here, they had eaten many animals, but still there were a lot left. First, the ark drifted far north of Hudson Bay—far, far north, up where walrus live. One day the ark bumped up against an ice floe. Noah looked out and saw walrus on the ice. He somehow managed to kill a walrus. He somehow managed to get more walrus on his boat, too. The Bible says two, two of each animal, but by the time Noah got here, his family was so hungry, he forgot all about two. He got as many walrus on the ark as he could. He got a few seals on the boat. Seagulls, too.

  It was said that all the people drowned where Noah had come from—all of them! But up around here, there were many of us, many people.

  The ark drifted into Hudson Bay. People saw it floating out there. They were curious. Some people quickly got into kayaks and paddled out.

  “Hey, what kind of boat is this?” one hunter asked.

  “What do you mean?” Noah said.

  “What’s it made of?”

  “Wood.”

  “We get wood that washes up after a storm. Driftwood.”

  “Are you going to kill us?” Noah said.

  “No.”

  “What is the best way to leave this place?”

  “Go back to where you came from.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “I have to wait until God calls down and says it’s okay.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Who controls things here?”

  “Many things-many spirits—different ones. Important ones.”

  “Not me—the one who controls things for me is back home.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. If you live here—the important spirits control you.”

  “Not me.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  Then Noah threw some big handfuls of animal dung down at the people in their kayaks. Th
ey paddled off. The ark drifted out on Hudson Bay all night.

  The next day people paddled out to the ark again.

  “Hey, what’s falling from the sky?” Noah said.

  “Snow.”

  “I don’t like it. It’s cold.”

  “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” the villagers all laughed up from their kayaks.

  Noah threw big handfuls of dung down on them and they paddled away.

  The next day, some hunters paddled out to the ark again.

  “What’s that animal taste like—is it good?” one hunter said.

  “Which one?” said Noah.

  “The one that has the long neck and spots.”

  “There’s two of them,” said Noah.

  “Let us have one. We’ll tell you how it tastes, good or bad.”

  “No,” said Noah.

  “If you visit a village you should give something. You have a lot of food-animals there. Give us one.”

  “No.”

  “Soon it will be snowing harder. Soon snow will cover everything. Soon ice will gather tightly around your boat.”

  “How do I get out of here?”

  “You have to live here all winter.”

  Hearing this put Noah in a bad way. He looked angry. He shouted. He threw more handfuls of dung, but the people had backed up their kayaks already. “Come to our village and we will let you live with us all winter. Are you alone?”

  “No, I have a wife. I have a son. I have a daughter.”

  “We’ll find someone to marry each of those.”

  “Go away.”

  The hunters paddled back in the snowfall over the water. When it was snowing its hardest, that is when a woolly elephant came out and was walking around. Woolly mammoths were around, then, and this one was walking along the shore. Then the ice locked in the ark.

  Ice locked in the ark and a woolly mammoth walked out to the ark. Everyone in the village saw this.

  Some hunters got spears, ran out, and tried to cut off the woolly mammoth. They closed in on it. The woolly mammoth had three choices: it could keep walking fast away, it could turn on the hunters, it could climb onto the ark.

  The woolly mammoth tried to climb onto the ark, but its tusks tore into the sides. Then it loosened from the ark and climbed up onto it. Some villagers went out and repaired the holes, covered them with stretched sealskins. Then they shouted up to Noah, “Look, we repaired your boat. Now, please give us that woolly mammoth. It can give us enough food for our whole village.”

  “No,” said Noah. “I need it. I’ll kill it and my family will eat it.”

  “You don’t know how to eat a woolly mammoth!” a hunter said.

  “Go away. Get out of here!”

  The villagers went back home over the ice. They went hunting, they fished. Food was brought in and people didn’t go hungry yet.

  One day Noah showed up in the village. “We’ve run out of food,” he said. “My family is hungry.”

  “Did you eat some more of the strange animals you travel with?”

  “Yes, but others run from us when we approach, or fly up, or flee out over the ice.”

  “Yes, we’ve seen some run over the ice.”

  “Do you have some food for us?” Noah said.

  “Do you know how to hunt seals through breathing-holes?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know how to chisel a hole for ice fishing?”

  “No.”

  “If another woolly mammoth climbs onto your boat, will you give it to us?”

  “No.”

  Hearing this, some hunters poked spears at Noah. They did not stab into him. They only pushed him along the ice, all the way back to his ark. The hunters returned home.

  Snow and sleet, more snow. It was deep into winter now. Then, one day, some villagers were out hunting woolly mammoths. They saw one. They began to chase it. They were almost close enough to throw spears when the woolly mammoth climbed onto the ark. The hunters were impressed, how woolly mammoths had learned how to climb onto an ark. This one did it on the first try! The hunters admired the woolly mammoth very much.

  A hunter called up to Noah, “Give us the woolly mammoth!”

  “No!” said Noah. “It’s mine. I’ll kill it and eat it.”

  Noah had made a spear. He stood near the woolly mammoth. He threw from close up and missed, which is hard to do, miss a woolly mammoth completely. The spear didn’t even bounce off the woolly mammoth’s hide!

  The woolly mammoth fled the ark then. It ran off across the ice, out to other woolly mammoths. The woolly mammoths talked amongst themselves. Finally, they decided to live under the ground. They decided this so as not to be huntedimproperly—to be insulted—by Noah. This is how Noah caused woolly mammoths to flee underground. The villagers never saw a woolly mammoth again.

  All the rest of that winter, villagers left scraps of food for Noah and his family. Ptarmigan bones. Rotted seal flippers. Things picked out of fox droppings and polar bear droppings. Fish skulls and fish bones and dried-up fish tails. It got Noah’s family through until the ice thawed.

  When the ice thawed, the ark sank into the water. Some villagers paddled out and carried Noah and his family to the village in kayaks. Then they poked spears at them. “Go. Get out! Go in that direction!”

  The villagers watched Noah and his family set out to the south. They carried a little food. When Noah and his family were no longer seen, the villagers went back to everything as it was before.

  That is what happened.

  LAST CONVERSATION WITH MARK, 1977

  (Transcript)

  MN: You leave on the train soon, eh?

  HN: In a few days, yes.

  MN: Helen with you?

  HN: Yes.

  MN: She will not be staying, then.

  HN: No.

  MN: Helen and me, we did a lot of good work, I’d say.

  HN: She said that.

  MN: Good.

  HN: Thanks for all of your help, Mark. It meant a lot to me. It was important to me.

  MN: Helen taught me a lot of Japanese words. Did you know that?

  HN: No.

  MN: Well, she did.

  HN: As for your stories, I won’t ever think of Noah—

  MN: —oh, him.

  HN: I won’t ever think of Noah in the same way. The rest of my life.

  MN: All he ever had to do was give up some animals and pry off a plank of wood.

  HN: You didn’t allow him to do that. In your stories, I mean.

  MN: Noah didn’t allow it.

  HN: But they’re your stories, Mark. So—

  MN: I don’t own them. I only tell them. (Pause.) When do you think I’ll get the rest of my money for telling them?

  HN: Soon. Let’s say in two weeks. I’ll see to it, Mark.

  MN: Helen has already paid me.

  HN: Yes, she told me.

  MN: You liked the stories, eh?

  HN: Very much. I was lucky to hear them.

  MN: All that good plank-wood—

  HN: —what?

  MN: All he had to do was pry up a plank. Everybody would have got through winter.

  A BAD THING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN

  One day some men came back from fishing. They said, “There’s a big wooden boat out there!” Everyone in the village went down to look. They stood by the sea. “Yes, there it is.” A group of men paddled out in kayaks to the boat.

  It began to snow.

  When they got to the boat, one shouted, “Hey—what kind of boat is this?”

  “Go away!” a man shouted down.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Noah!”

  “Is your family with you?”

  “Yes,” said Noah. Then three people were standing next to him. “Here they are—my wife, son, and daughter.”

  “Noah,” said a village man, “you should come to our village—now! A bad thing is about to happen.”

  “Go away.”

  “What’s this big boat called, anyway?�
��

  “An ark.”

  “Noah, leave this ark—a bad thing is about to happen.”

  “What’s that smell?” a man said. “It’s not seals.”

  “There’s a lot of animals on my ark. After long travels on this boat, they stink.”

  “Throw them down to us. We’ll kill them and eat them. What do they taste like?”

  “My family doesn’t eat them,” this Noah said.

  This caused a lot of talk amongst the villagers. “What? What? What?”

  Then someone sniffed the air. “Hey! Hey—the stink is gone!”

  Noah went below to look, and when he returned, he said, “The animals are gone. Somebody took them. A bad thing just happened.”

  “It has to be the shaman. He’s been nearby some days now,” a villager said.

  “Why would he steal my animals?” said Noah.

  “Because he doesn’t want you here. He hates your ark. He’s probably tasting a few of your animals right now, at the bottom of the sea, or maybe in a far place, behind some rocks. He’ll never tell us what they taste like, either. He’ll keep the animals for himself.”

  “What’s falling from the sky?” asked Noah’s wife.

  “Snow—it’s winter now,” a man said.

  “What will happen?” she said.

  With this, winter arrived. The ark was stuck in the ice. Seals came up through breathing-holes out on the ice—you could hear them barking. Then someone shouted, “Look—!” and people saw all sorts of strange animals next to seal breathing-holes! Animals the villagers had never seen before—strange animals. “The shaman’s hid them below the ice!”

  “Bring me this man—this shaman,” said Noah. “I’ll sweep him down to the ice with my broom!” This made the villagers laugh very hard.

  “You can’t fight him,” a man said. “He’ll stab your broom straight through your heart—he’ll do what he wants.”

  “How will I get my animals back?” Noah said.

  “Offer the shaman some planks of wood—for a fire,” a man said.

  “No,” said this Noah.

  “Then you’ll have to dive under the ice itself,” a man said.