From Israzine Nov., 2014: "Zionism, An Indigenous Struggle: Aboriginal Americans and the Jewish State"
My name is Uqittuk Mark and I’ve lived my whole life in Ivujivik, an isolated, ice-swept village of 380 people located in the Nunavik region, 2,000 kilometers north of Montreal, Quebec. Ivujivik means “Place where ice accumulates because of strong currents.” Situated on a sandy cove sandwiched between imposing cliffs overlooking Hudson Bay and the Hudson Strait, the currents between the two are so strong that trapped animals are often crushed by the flowing ice.In Ivujivik. Ice is a constant: There are only three months of the year, from July till October, when there isn’t any.There are no roads linking Ivujivik to any other Nunavik villages; the only way into the settlement is by plane.
I was born in an igloo, but shortly after my birth, my entire community moved into regular housing. Most young Inuits stay in town; they find jobs here. The majority hunt for a living, mainly seal, walrus and beluga. Then, there are those like me who leave temporarily to attend schools of higher education. I studied at the Algonquin College in Ottawa. Today, I work as a weatherman and a control tower operator at the Ijuvik Airport.Our people have lived in Ivujivik for 4,000 years.
Inuits began converting to Anglicanism in the mid-70s. Along with this conversion came secular knowledge. Before then, we didn’t attend school because there were no schools. But, even prior to that, young people began leaving the traditional ways en masse.
Since attending Sunday school as a young boy, I had always longed to visit the Holy Land. I told myself that should the opportunity to go there arise, I would grab it. The opportunity presented itself in 2006 when I joined the Canada Awakening Ministries tour. I was one of 40 participants that comprised of First Nations groups, their ministers as well as others from Ireland, Fiji and Ontario. I was the only male from the North. It was a two-week trip from start to finish, my first outside Canada and it didn’t disappoint. For some, it was a life-altering experience: For me, it was a remarkable pilgrimage – a personal journey into the world of the Torah and the New Testament. The stories I learned in Sunday school came alive to me, for instance, the desert where John the Baptist was born and the Sea of Galilee. I felt at home in the Galilee.
We toured most of the land. The only places we didn’t visit were the West Bank and Gaza as It was considered too dangerous to go there. Keeping away from those places, though, didn’t immunize us from danger. One kibbutz we visited was hit by Hamas rockets soon after we left. Had we remained longer, we would have been casualties of those missiles, as were many of the Israelis we met there. Seeing and experiencing the land and the people, opened me up to a new perspective on the world and, interestingly, deepened my understanding of what needed to be done to help preserve my own culture.
I was most struck by the differences between Israeli and Canadian culture. In my naiveté, I just assumed that Israel would be yet another Western democracy. I wasn’t prepared for just how traditionally Jewish it is. It isn’t only the language, the fact that Israelis speak Hebrew and Yiddish and not English, but I found their customs and traditions unexpected and, at times, inexplicable. In one kibbutz we visited, pigs were elevated onto some kind of platform; we were told that the Jews weren’t allowed to touch them. How Israelis observe the Sabbath also intrigued me. There, the Sabbath begins Friday night and ends Saturday night. Orthodox Jews keep the Sabbath according to God’s commandment to Moses, as an example, they don’t use the elevators on the Sabbath: They consider pushing a knob work and Jews aren’t allowed to work on the Holy Day.
We also attended museums where we were introduced to Jewish history, especially what happened during World War II. We were told that before becoming a State, Jewish settlers weren’t allowed to arm themselves but were innovative in bypassing these restrictions. For instance, to protect Jews, one man smuggled in guns piece by piece and assembled them in Jerusalem. It was a superhuman effort. I found that awesome.
Israel has a lot to teach us Inuits about preserving a culture. Look at what Eliezer Ben-Yehudah accomplished by reinvigorating the Hebrew language. Ben-Yehuda was a Polish lexicographer and journalist who moved to Palestine in 1881. This accomplishment especially resonated with me. Over the years, many of us became confused because of having lost our identity, especially when the Canadian government tried assimilating us into the Canadian culture. Besides losing our culture, we also lost our language. We were taught that our language is something we should be ashamed of. After hearing about what Ben-Yehudah did, I felt encouraged. Perhaps we, too, can reinvigorate our language, albeit with a lot of effort. There are attempts being made today. Recently, a few books written in Inuit were published and even a dictionary. I’m sure more books will follow. I hope all is not yet lost.
Israel, though, has so much more to teach us as a people, especially about how to survive. Jewish history parallels what we are going through today in terms of our own relationship with a dominant, domineering society. In that regard, we share a deep understanding of what Jews have endured over the centuries and what they continue to endure, even in their own country.
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We have certain expectations of native people. They have to be militant. They should be political radicals, and quick to rebuke white people, the “colonizers.” They should bang on drums, chanting in a tongue that no one else can understand, and refer to the mysteries of the Great Spirit.
Very often, native people know what’s expected of them, and if in the mood, will play the role. My friend Uqittuk Mark won’t. He refuses to be the aggrieved aboriginal. When I first visited his community in the early 1980’s, he didn’t lecture me about the evils of the white man. Rather, he pulled out his guitar and gave me a folk music concert, with songs by Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan, and more. We did discuss native issues, but not as personal accusations. Rather, we talked to improve our understanding. Uqittuk’s critiques of government policy on education and development were passionate, but even-handed.
When I recently reconnected with Uqittuk, he again greeted me with the same warm demeanor as I experienced decades ago. He still takes the issues affecting his family and community quite seriously, and he still uses the approach of trying to achieve understanding.
A major change is that he is now a committed Christian. He is passionate about his beliefs, and in keeping with his character, is always trying to understand more. He told me about his recent Israel pilgrimage, which had a profound spiritual effect on him.
Uqittuk is from a kind of sandwich generation of Inuit. Their modern education limited their ability to learn traditional hunting. The influence of western popular culture affected them, whether in music, food, or livelihood. Uqittuk and I had many discussions about authenticity: was his generation authentically Inuit, was my generation authentically Jewish? They’re not “real” Inuit, he and his friends declared, because they had been educated in someone else’s culture. It took a few years, but I eventually realized his perspective was right, and mine wrong. And not just about Inuit.
Uqittuk is authentic: as an Inuk (Eskimo), Christian, and as a sensitive and intelligent friend. It’s an honor to have him offer to tell CIJR about his Israel pilgrimage.
— Nathan Elberg
