Director’s Notes

It was an honour to be chosen to make a film celebrating FCNQ’s – Federation of Co-operatives of Northern Quebec’s – 50th anniversary. In “Atautsikut / Leaving None Behind,” Inuit and Cree of Nunavik fill gaps in Canadian history for their fellow Nunavimmiut and Southern neighbours.

Without the support of FCNQ and the 14 Nunavik co-operatives they serve, this film could never have been made.

For these Director’s Notes, I selected ten photographs, and am writing what each one means to me. Here, Bobby “Snowball” Aputiarjuk knows Kuujjuaq River so intimately that he can concentrate on our interview without running us aground!

When I was flown to Montreal to meet with FCNQ’s Executive, I was still seeking a way into the story – to fall in love with it. Aliva Tulugak, then President, suggested I stay for their week-long meeting and learn their values, like their motto: “Leaving None Behind.”

The week was ending, and I was still seeking the story. Then the Executive put their crowded agenda on hold to discuss how best to assist two former board members, now struggling with food insecurity. FCNQ would help pay their grocery bills. A half-billion dollar corporation… leaving none behind? I was in love!

On a wind-whipped hilltop in Kangirsuk, is Aliva Tulugak’s “Thumbs Up!” signalling happiness with how the filming is going, or relief that the interview’s done and neither of us blew away? (Taken in October, 2017, during Aliva’s most recent term as FCNQ president.)

Aliva‘s life-long commitment to the co-operative movement led him to help with our project. Busy as he was, he made time to travel with us, participating in the filming as both interviewer and subject.

What started as a shared interest in Inuit History, Language and Culture became a friendship, and I am grateful for that.

In Kangirsuk, once called Payne Bay, I interviewed Sarah Grey, husband Elijah, and daughter Lucy, who called herself an “FCNQ orphan,” given her parents’ dedication to the co-operative movement.

Sarah stands before a big boat, holding a nickel. Even while Peter Murdoch still worked for the Hudson’s Bay Company, he was inventing ways to help Inuit arise. His concept of the “little five cents” won Inuit consent to divert five percent of all trades for each camp to a separate account. Left to accumulate, those nickels bought a big boat for Charlie Siviarapik’s camp, loan-free. A big boat… and independence!

Southernmost in Nunavik are the communities of Kuujjuarapik and Whapmagoostui.

Inuit and Cree oral traditions recall hostilities, back in olden times. But as Inuk Mayor Lucassie Inukpuk said: “When the Co-op and Federation emerged, Cree and Inuit joined forces, thinking like helpmates.” Cree Deputy Chief John Shem agreed: “We each work for our communities but we assist one another wherever we can. Inuit have their own government, but the same goals: to help our people.”

Lucassie summed it up: “We become one any time there’s an emergency in our community, whether on Cree or Inuit land. That’s what we do.”

Behind Harry Surusila loom the ruins of the Company store. His biological father, a Company man, returned South at Harry’s birth. Later, though the Hudson’s Bay Company storehouse was packed with food, his sister starved to death.

As the stranglehold of colonialism loosened, there were better times. Harry’s adoptive father, Thomassie, showed him kindness. Harry humourously evoked my father’s 1948 visit, when his mother sacrificed her soapstone lamp to help launch a carving industry. And Father Steinmann taught him his head had nothing missing – the stuff inside it was the very same as what’s in Qallunaaq heads!

Harry Surusila remembers.

I first saw this photograph in Aliva Tulugak and Peter Murdoch’s wonderful book: “A New Way of Sharing: A Personal History of the Cooperative Movement in Nunavik.”

Nunavimmiut, represented here at a U.S. trade show, found success when Ookpik the furry, cute little owl became a symbol for Canada.

Creator Jeannie Snowball stands proudly with son Bobby “Snowball” Aputiarjuk. The threat of starvation once drove her family to eat a snowy owl. The owl helped them survive, and later inspired Jeannie’s Ookpik. When local production of the dolls reached five hundred a day, Ookpik was feeding a lot of Nunavimmiut!

Out on the tidal flats below the community of Kangiqsujuaq, Lucassie Napaluk showed me treasures, just waiting to be gathered. He is confident that a harvest of these plump, juicy mussels would help his co-operative – the co-op for which he used to risk his job at the Hudson’s Bay Company, sneaking over to teach “the competition” about pricing.

“It’s people helping one another, the co-operative,” Lucassie explains, “Inuit have traditionally been helpmates in every way.” He was a member of the FCNQ delegation who advised Indigenous co-ops in Chile: “You’re not on your own.”

Lucassie shared these and other treasures.

For our filming, renowned Ivujivik sculptor Mattiusi Iyaituk had planned a sculpture commemorating co-operatives.

We were filming scenic shots around town when he called on the walkie-talkie we’d left him. He had something ready for us to see – a flying shaman. But I wondered how Mattiusi would connect the shaman to the co-op movement!

Mattiusi: “In our history, our ancestors had leaders who relied on shamanism. I am making a shaman out of this, one who helps his fellow Inuit.”

“Back in the time of the shaman,” he continued, “Inuit were free, and co-operatives have made Inuit free once more!”

This photo, taken with Alicie Kasudluak Niviaxie in Inukjuak, captures the happiness of a reunion – a visit from the little caribou her grandfather, Conlucy Nayoumealook, gave to James Houston, on the beach where my father first saw the Arctic.

I went back North to help Nunavimmiut tell their story, but during this visit, Sarollie Weetaluktuk and Nayoumealook’s family helped fill some gaps in my family story as well.

Conlucy Nayoumealook’s and my father’s meeting in 1948 heralded the beginning of Inuit art’s Contemporary Period. And seventy years later, our families are still collaborating artisically, as it all comes full circle.