Qitsualik: Inukshuk for sale (fwd)

[phil cash cash]

Qitsualik: Inukshuk for sale

© Indian Country Today March 02, 2007. All Rights Reserved
Posted: March 02, 2007
by: Rachel Qitsualik
http://www.indiancountry.com/content.cfm?id=1096414581

So if you could just write down the different types of inukshuks there
are,'' the researcher said over the phone, ''that would be great.'' He
was supposedly doing a book about inuksuit: those famous, man-like
piles of rock found throughout the Arctic.

''Types?'' I asked, confused.

''You know, ones for casting spells, worshipping gods, marking sacred
areas ...''

I wasn't sure what to feel more flabbergasted about: the fact that he
had assumed I would do free research for his book, or the fact that he
knew nothing about his own subject matter.

''Inuksuit,'' I said, ''not inukshuks. And they're for hunting.''

''Huh?''

Several years ago, I had a Web site that provided free information on
Inuit culture. It was fun. I got e-mails from all around the world,
asking me this and that about Inuit traditions and words. But time saw
an initial trickle of letters swell into a flood of many hundreds. And
too many were ''profit'' driven questions. There were university
students, for example, sending:

''My professor has given us the assignment of explaining how
eco-feminism relates to tribal subsistence strategies, and we're to use
examples from Inuit culture. So could you write up, in at least five
thousand words, your reasons why you think Inuit women are
eco-feminists?''

But these absurd requests were far from the most galling. The worst
offenders were businesses and self-employed individuals, wanting to
cash in on the then-global interest in Inuit, without having to do any
of their own legwork. I received countless e-mails requesting cultural
content for businesses, or snazzy Inuktitut (the Inuit language) names
for companies and product lines. At first, I was as helpful as I could
stand to be; but I would always receive back:

''Too long. Make it short, catchy. We need consumers to get a feel from
the name.''

Was I their employee now? As these e-mail discussions went on, I became
bitter, sensing that my kindness was being exploited. Sometimes, the
e-mails would lead to phone consultations which were tantamount to
harassment. Education was a totally different thing - I never minded
explaining words to school kids (as long as I didn't have to do their
papers). But were the business types making me materialistic? I decided
to ask a Scottish consultant acquaintance about whether I should charge
for Inuktitut research.

She was scandalized. ''Absolutely not!'' she said. ''Knowledge should be
free.''

''Would you name a company, in English, for free?''

''Well, no. That's different.''

I was disturbed by the opinion expressed by my consultant ''friend.''

''So,'' I said carefully, ''when it's Inuktitut, 'knowledge should be
free.' But knowledge isn't free in English?''

''Well,'' she said, ''Inuit have a giving tradition. You don't want to
sully the, uh, beauty of Inuit culture by involving money. That money's
too dirty for you.''

''Nobody minds if I charge for translation,'' I argued. ''But naming a
company takes days. Corporate names are always word-plays that don't
take well to Inuktitut. It's hard to cook up something like that. And
you said you would charge for something named in English. That doesn't
sully your culture? That money isn't too dirty?''

''Oh, man, look at the time,'' she responded. ''Well, Rachel, it was
great talking to you. We should do lunch. Maybe next week?''

''Right.''

This conversation made me somewhat ill. Human beings survive by
knowledge that is anything but free, often having to earn it by working
or suffering greatly. There is no better way to learn about bears, for
example, than by surviving a bear attack (often with scars as a
reminder). But is this free knowledge? One may learn a great deal at a
university, but only at the exorbitant cost of tuition: hardly free
knowledge.

Even in Inuit traditional culture, one never teaches another the full
extent of a skill they possess; in this way, the teacher protects
himself from obsolescence, while at once leaving room for the student
to learn and personalize their own knowledge. Inuit have always
understood that, if knowledge is power, then it is also currency - a
lesson they have had to relearn in the wake of being told by
industrialized peoples, whom they used to fear, that their knowledge
should be free.

The earliest explorers made careers (i.e., money) by exporting Inuit
culture and the global demand for it quickly spawned a market. In the
past, Inuit have depended upon non-Inuit businesses to connect them
with the south. But the Inuit embracing of industrial culture has meant
that, today, they are well-connected to global media, now able to market
their own culture as they see fit. In other words, they are gradually
cutting out the middleman. With this in mind, the ''knowledge should be
free,'' resistance to Inuit charging money, suddenly comes to more
closely resemble what it is: the old school of northern profiteers
trying to limit their new competition. Ironically, this new competition
is that which used to be the product itself: Inuit culture.

I just didn't like the idea of people making money off of Inuit without
paying anything back, so I decided that the corporate types were cut
off. From now on, in answering e-mails, I would only give free words or
information about Inuit culture to students (but I still wouldn't write
their papers for them). The business people were pretty peevish about
it, and being cut off didn't stop them from trying several times over.
I started to get sneaky e-mails; like this one:

''Hi my name is Kitty. I'm a litle kidd in grade 3 and teecher says we
need to name our hamster. I think it woud be so neet if you name him.
Can you give us a short name that means 'market success' or 'cutting
edge?'''

I guess they thought that some deliberately misspelled words would make
me think a kid was writing in. Too bad they forgot to check their
e-mail address: It was identical to that of the company I had already
refused the day before.

Pijariiqpunga. (That is all I have to say).

Rachel Qitsualik was born in 1953 and raised in a traditional Inuit
lifestyle. She writes extensively on Inuit culture and language, and is
a columnist for Indian Country Today.