Talking to the gods can be hard sometimes. We mortals can be cruel and fickle, but only on a mortal scale. While the worst act we can perform may be to steal a neighbor's food, or to murder one's family, a god can perform so much more. A god can steal the food of an entire tribe by driving the caribou away, or bury a whole tribe in a deadly bizzard.
And yet that is what my spirit calls me to do. Everyone around me has always thought me lucky for my gift, the wonder of it, the beauty of it, but unbeknowst to them, I have always wished to have been born with a hunter's spirit or a builder's spirit. Any spirit to spare me this dreadful burden!
But I do not have a hunter's spirit and so it is I who communicate to the great spirits of the gods, it is I who must pass down their edicts to the tribes, it is I who must shape 'the way of things.'
This is the...18th Great Assembly? I cannot remember, I do not have a mind for such things. Our forefathers did not hold such Assemblies, there was no reason to travel so far, through the deathly cold, instead they rather sensibly stayed with their tribes. The tribes themselves only interacted to trade when they happened to meet each other while wandering across the great, barren waste.
But times are changing. In recent generations our southern hunting grounds were invaded by a people calling themselves the 'Anishinaabe Confederation'. In order to meet the threat they posed we copied them. We, the Inuktitut speaking people became a 'confederation ourselves: The Inuit Confederation.
Every 3rd year we meet at Innu during the Time of the Midnight Sun for 3 days, to plot our course as a people and to coodinate trade between the tribes and with the Anishinaabe. Every tribe sends 3 delegates, a hunter, an elder and a shaman (me!). This mix of spirits is supposed to bring perfect balance and spiritual harmony to the Assembly. However there are many tribes and they rarely get along, so all in all it is a noisy event. However this year was the noisiest of all.
Let me tell you how it started, the first day of the Assembly went as normal. Each group spoke in turn and it was all proceeding as it usually does; we added stories to the oral history, we planned out trade missions, we coordinated hunting grounds, we arranged marriages, all the ordinary things. However the gods had a different plan.
That night they sent me a dream. A message. Our people must not stay the same. We must not continue as we have. We must change. The Assemblies were the first step but they wanted more. They told me that the Assembly was to gain more power, that it was to control all the tribes, and that they would control it through me.
I tried to protest, to plead that to say such things before the Assembly was to condemn myself to death, that the honour of the other tribes would be so slighted that they would kill me on the spot, but a reprive was not given. I awoke with a horrible sense of dread. This mission may be suicidal but it is unescapable. I hardly spoke a word while walking from our igloo to the Assembly Grounds, I feigned illness to explain my paleness to my comrades.
The dialogue remained the same as it was the previous day up until finally it was my turn to speak. I trembled as I rose to talk, took a deep breath and then let the divine spirit take over my body. My spirit retreated from that frosty morning into the warmth of the spirit world.
When I returned to my body I found a tense situation, but much better than I expected. The divine words had inspired everyone in the Assembly and those that were inspired to kill me seemed to be in a minority! The rest had formed a protective mob around me and both sides were brandishing harpoons at the other. The next thing I knew was a sharp crack, pain and blissful unconciousness.
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I awoke in an igloo with an elder looking over me. He smiled as I awoke. Responding to my frantic inquiries he informed me that my speech had proven extremely divisive. While most recognized the divine authority behind it, a great many young hunters balked at a possible limitation of his authority. An argument quickly broke out and I was struck in the head with a chunk of ice, thrown by a paticularily brash young hunter named Tivi.
This Tivi had now led his band north to gather their tribes and return south to disband the Assembly by force. Meanwhile, the others had gone after them in pursuit to gather their own tribes and prepare for war. A small guard was left here to protect myself and those too old to fight against raiders. While offended at the time I would later be glad to have been spared a part in the conflict.
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For two years the war raged. For two years former brothers of the Confederation hunted one another like dumb beasts. And for two years that elder consoled me while I was smothered with guilt. His name was Uvavnuk and he was the only warmth for me in the world. The days flew thanks to his catogorical knowledge of our history. Never will I forget those cold nights of dread, kept warm by his stories of great men of years past.
However it all came to an end one brutal winter day. The great hunting party returned, 2000 warriors strong and triumphent. They had defeated Tivo, cast his corpse below the ice to trap his spirit there for all eternity. And now they expected my gratitute. And so I, with a sigh, stepped outside my body and the great spirits happily obliged them...