Rose Marie Nirliq Iriarr̂uk Tuuqłaq Kirby (née Thrasher) was born at the Hornaday Riber in 1946, during a time when Inuvialuit lived nomadically. She spent her early years travelling with family around the Paulatuuq area following the changing seasons. Rose had a long career as an educator in Fort McPherson, Aktlarvik, Inuuvik, and Paulatuuq, then as an Inuvialuktun Language Specialist for her local education board. She devoted her life to educating others about her Inuvialuit culture, history, and language. In this memoir she shares the story of her life from her early years living traditionally on the land, to being taken away to residential school in Aktlarvik, then moving to different DEW Line sites following her father’s work. Rose passed away in 2025, shortly after Kunuuksayuukka was published.
Kunuuksayuukka is the spirit of winter storms – storms where you cannot see ahead of you. Kunuuksayuukka is said to be a mischievous storm-maker. He loves his job – flinging snow with his pualrun/pualrin (shovel).
Kunuuksayuukka, in the minds of Mom and her ancestors who told and retold its stories, gave me such an active mind that I was able to tell stories to my siblings. Kunuuksayuukka is a spirit from the time of my childhood, my fondest memories, and my safest memories. Although Kunuuksayuukka no longer exists due to modern housing, it is a story from centuries past. When I remember times and places, I always think of that part of my life in a way that will never leave my mind, heart, and soul.
Kunuuksayuukka is a storm which could last for days. Every night when we just had a light from the qingaq (the little hole on the stove where a draft would go in and make the fire flare), we would hear about Kunuuksayuukka. Mom would give us bannock to put under our pillows so we could have a warm one and not a frozen one when we awoke. What excitement we felt listening to stories and watching the qingaq making fun pictures on our canvas snow walls!
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The next day the storm blew and made ‘wooing’ sounds. When the storm blew at the river it was unsafe to wander out. We could hear the whistle and the loud hum of the wind. Dad went out to check his dogs and get some ice from the river. We spent the day in the tupiq (tent) waiting for the wind to die down, but it blew harder as the day wore on.
When the wind blew and blew, there was very little to keep you busy. Throughout the day, we children would get into an argument, and Mom would say to us “Taima (Stop)!”. “Look – we have to get along; don’t argue.”
Having poked and pushed each other, Mom said, “We are having quaq (frozen fish) for supper. That should cool you down.”
We sat and stared at each other, pushing with our eyes, faces, and bodies. Mom said she would tell us about Kunuuksayuukka if we tried to get along and not fight. I tried hard to behave as Mom had many old-time stories about angatkut (shamans), and how people lived a long time ago. Every time Mom told stories, I was all ears and curious.
My sister was finding it hard to behave, so I watched her and played with her while Mom cleaned up. Then, I packed her in my back until she settled down. The wind, with its continuous blowing, told us that it would not die down for some time.
Finally, all the work was done for the day, and it was quiet time. The stove was filled with more coal and willows. Mom blew the candle out. We could hear the crackling of the coal in the wood stove and the wind blowing, but we were secure as Dad was home.
Mom’s story began.
Rose’s Mom tells of a family who lived log ago at Langton Bay, a dad, a mom, a boy and two girls. Winter was setting and it started to blow:
The wind and snow flying about made it difficult to see for see far. “OOooo,” the wind went, “oooOO.”
This went on for several days. Then one day the mom told the boy, “Go outside and take your shirt off and bear your chest to the wind. Only you can do this. You were born on a beautiful spring day.”
“Then say to Kunuuksayuukka. ‘I was born on a beautiful day. Flying snow does not bother me; I can bear my chest at your snow and wind.” …
The boy did what his mother had asked him to do and went out. He bared his chest to the wind and came back into the sodhouse. His mother glanced at him and nodded.
In the morning, the wind died down to where you could see across the distance.
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Inuit from my community had a great impact on my young life, especially those I grew up with and those that I have heard about, including their stories of long ago. They have shaped the way I think and do things. They have touched my soul and heart deeply. Their relationships with animals, the environment, and with one another, have been dynamic for me. They were content, and lived with what was sent to them. Since our history was oral, it was placed upon every individual to retain what one said and did. You may have listened to the same story from a young age until you were grown up. One always tries to remember what the Elders’ stories are. “Don’t forget now…” Elders would say.
