“Her name is Nananuak. Nananuak was a woman who went into the Land of the Dead. She just broke through without having died herself. When she was there, she changed into a man and then returned home to her husband. After that, her husband wouldn’t sleep with her. Or him. Whatever. So her husband made a plan to kill Nananuak, but she got him first. She sliced his throat open and watched him bleed out. From that moment on, she became the Evilest Spirit among the spirits in the Land of the Dead. She travels across the North killing people at will. We must pray for protections from her as soon as a new baby comes into our communities or she’ll slice their throats. Then she comes South and does the same. She was the lady across from you. He was the man across from you. I keep telling you that you aren’t listening or learning. You have to do that, Father. You have to take the time to learn who we are. What is real to us.”

Ittura sits down on the sidewalk. I sit down next to him. I look into his eyes and say, “I’m ready, Ittura. I’m ready to learn. I won’t interrupt you anymore.”

I’m not giving up or giving in. I am finally ready to take it and learn.

We are walking down the long, winding sidewalk. The North Saskatchewan River is waiting for us. There are people running past us in shorts. Joggers. Women pushing strollers while they run, their faces filled with perspiration. They breathe in deep breaths of hot summer air.

I look over at Ittura and say, “What do you make of these people running everywhere?”

Ittura shrugs. “It’s something they like to do in the South. I have no idea what they are going to accomplish with it all. It keeps them busy down here since they don’t have to worry about finding their suppers. They just go to a Safeway or some place that sells ‘organic’ vegetables. Do you believe that ‘organic’ is really organic?” This is the first time Ittura has asked for my opinion on anything.

“I think that all ‘organic’ means is that the food was grown in horse manure.”

“I think the entire South is horse shit!” Ittura starts to laugh. I look over to him and smile.

We reach the riverbank and find a spot of shade to sit in. We don’t speak. I think that we are both exhausted. I won’t say anything. I’ve been told to listen.

“Okay.” Ittura clears his throat. “Remember Pokiak—the girl at McDonald’s?”

I nod. “You killed her father and then she killed you.”

“That’s right! Now you’re being a good student. A good listener.” Ittura slaps my shoulder. “Inuit are allowed to even the score that way, and there’s not one thing the cops can do about it. It’s our maligaq, our law.”

“Can I say this, Ittura? That’s not law. That’s murder.”