from “innunguaq: the likeness of a person”

The Inuit have many words to describe the various stone figures of the Arctic. The best known is inuksuk (plural inuksuit), which means “that which acts in the capacity of a human.” Like the English word “tree,” which is used for a great variety of plants of all shapes and sizes, inuksuk is a general term that is often applied to all stone figures. But not all are inuksuit, as we are about to discover. A better general word is tukilik (plural tukiliit), literally “that which has meaning.” In Inuktitut, this refers to all meaningful stone objects, whatever or wherever they may be, anywhere in the world.

Innunguaq refers to an image or object in the likeness of a person. The innunguaq is not an inuksuk. It may be a doll, a small stone shaped like a human or a large figure constructed of stones and placed upon the landscape. The innunguaq had limited but interesting functions. During the nineteenth century, Inuit who lived in areas visited by Scottish whalers would construct innunguait in the spring to let the whalers know Inuit were nearby. Often the whalers took local Inuit hunters aboard ship to act as pilots through the shoal-infested waters of the Arctic coast.

In more recent times, an inuk (Inuktitut for “person”) might erect an innunguaq at a place he loved dearly or, more rarely, as a memorial to a cherished person. In the days of bows and arrows, young hunters made innunguait out of snow to use as targets. Shamans also made innunguait from snow and other materials at hand, though their purpose was more sinister: like voodoo figures, the innunguait were likenesses of specific people, which the shaman then cursed. The Inuit believed these actions could cause great harm, perhaps even death.

I have heard told that many years ago, a group of Inuit who lived on Little Diomede Island, in the Bering Sea, wanted to protect themselves from raiders who lived on Big Diomede Island. They constructed several innunguait which could be seen from a great distance. They then covered the innunguait in skins and gave them weapons to hold so that they would look like humans ready for battle.

If you ask Inuit in the central Arctic how long their people have been constructing innunguait, they often answer, “Before we can remember.” Pose the same question to Inuit in the eastern Arctic and they often reply, “Most were built when the arvaniaqtuiqqaaniqpaaminiit, the first whalers, came to our land.” In recent times, the innunguaq has became known as the inuksuk, which it certainly is not. This imitation of a person has become an Arctic icon. Southern entrepreneurs have adopted its distinctive silhouette and used it in a myriad of logos advertising everything from beer to the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics. Innunguait have been constructed in airports, embassies and other Canadian institutions at home and abroad. Perhaps the most touching innunguaq is the one that stands in Kandahar, Afghanistan, to honour Canadian soldiers, and their comrades in the other international armed forces, who have lost their lives in battle there.