“What can I help you with?”

Knock Knock Blog
6 min readAug 8, 2022

On July 29, 2022, after finishing a weeklong repair project at a water treatment plant in Baker Lake, NU, our work team was invited to a birthday party for the 2-year-old granddaughter of Dody and Scott, a couple we met during the project. It was much like any two-year old’s birthday, with lots of games, food, cake, singing, and gifts — but What struck me the most was the overwhelming small-town hospitality and sense of community.

We were flying out the next day, so I knew time was short. I made an effort to talk to as many people as I could while there.

Dody and Scott with Hunter. Prince River, NU in the background

One of the many people I met that evening was Martha, Dody’s mother and grandmother to many. When I walked up to introduce myself, she asked, “What can I help you with?” When I explained that I just wanted to meet her, she repeated the question. I repeated that I just wanted to meet her and finally, she began to chat. She was open and direct in everything she said, and I quickly learned that in this remote community, small talk is literally unnecessary.

Martha, pictured here with one of her grandchildren

Martha told me a bit about her life, particularly her relationships with her many grandchildren (Ingutaq).

Later that evening, Dody, Scott and our work crew of six drove out to a camp eight kilometres from town, along a rough trail. The camp is where animals are dressed and meat is dried after hunts. I sat in the back of the truck with Scott and listened to his stories of the land, animals they have hunted, and his family and their connection to the area.

Scott pointing out a fishing spot. On the Prince River, NU

When we reached camp overlooking the lake, the mood was light. All of us were enchanted by the landscape and the firsthand stories of a way of life that we had only seen on television or read in books. The Papal apology visit was fresh in the minds of all. Dody’s son Hunter had attended the Iqaluit event and texted his family earlier that day to describe how the stories of the elders, whom he had met in a private gathering that day, had made him very emotional.

Dody began to tell us about her mother and grandfather, and a trip that they had made to Baker Lake when Dody’s mother Martha was just a child. With Dody and Scott’s permission, this is my account of that conversation:

Martha was born in an igloo and, for the first part of her life, knew nothing of our modern world. Their seasonal winter camp was about 100 km northwest of Baker Lake, along the Thelon River. The family lived a semi-nomadic life. Their clothes were made from caribou (Tuktu), which was hunted on the land that was home for them, and for generations of families that preceded them.

When she was five or six years of age, Martha and her two sisters accompanied their father on a dogsled trip to Baker Lake. When they arrived, the RCMP met them and took the girls by force. Through an interpreter, Dody’s grandfather was told he could not take the girls back home. He was upset and did not understand; the children did not speak English and had no idea what was happening to them. This incident marked the beginning of their residential school journey and drastic forced change in their culture.

When Martha and her sisters arrived at the school, their handmade caribou clothing was cut from their bodies with knives and burned. They were bathed and scrubbed, then given unfamiliar and uncomfortable institutional clothing. They were punished by strap or told to stand in the corner whenever they spoke Inuktitut.

Dody’s grandfather walked back to retrieve his sled and dog team, intending to return to the camp and tell his wife what had happened — but on his way there he heard multiple gunshots. When he arrived at his sled, he learned that the RCMP had shot all his dogs to prevent him leaving the settlement.

Determined, he strapped the sled to his shoulders and started the long journey home. When he arrived, he told his wife what happened, and they chose to abandon their traditional life and live in the settlement. They only saw their daughters once a year, during the summer, and were sternly warned to return them to school or the RCMP would arrest them.

Dody’s grandfather never told her these events; rather, her father told Scott about them when they were on a hunting trip together. Dody’s parents did not ever speak to her directly about what happened except to convey a message: She was told not to hate the “whiteman” (Kablunik) for these actions, because it was not the white people of today that did these things.

Dody then changed the topic abruptly with some light-hearted, unrelated comments. We finished our visit to the camp and began the trip back to Baker Lake. I sat with Scott in the box of the truck, and seized the opportunity to question him about the lack of hatred towards Kablunik. I told him how grateful I was for this. I tried to verbalize my feelings about this history, as my ancestors had been in North America before Canada was a country. Though they were not decision-makers, they were part of the machine that perpetrated these horrible things. Scott said emphatically again, as if to comfort, “It wasn’t you who did this. These are not your crimes.”

It is hard to describe my feelings when I reflect on this. Sorrow, shame, anger, and heartbreak overwhelm me. I have lived my entire life with Eurocentric, white male privilege while these amazing and lovely people have lived with so much trauma and pain.

The most powerful lesson that I can impart from all of this is that we must listen. We must take the knowledge that we have and that we gain regarding the true history of Canada and learn from the firsthand stories of those who were so drastically affected by residential schools and colonization. I have a responsibility to listen, to learn, and to be willing to change. It might mean I need to have uncomfortable conversations when others deny that these things happened, or argue that colonization and residential schools were good things. I must ensure, by vote and conversation, that our elected officials continue to act and allocate funding towards the implementation of the TRC recommendations.

Learning about the cultures that long preceded my ancestors’ arrival in this land is difficult, as our previous governments did much to hide it. Listening and learning is uncomfortable and heartbreaking but as in life, a fearless and searching inventory is the only way to learn, amend ways, and move forward.

I am grateful to have met these new friends and have learned so much from my short visit to the geographic centre and what I now know is the heart of Canada. I truly hope that they, and their children, will be accepted and loved by all as they have accepted and loved me.

C. Eric Fadden

Eric is a small business owner, tireless community volunteer and advocate, and amazing storyteller.

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