Story from The Great Land -ᓄᓇᕕᒃ

By Naomie Gamondele

Puvirnituq Airport

“The Great Land, my home, is where I belong—it's a place I can't bear to be far from.” – Elder in Ivujivik.  

That’s what I’ve come to understand from my time there. If you've been, you’ve likely felt its beauty sweep over you. The Land is all-encompassing—no trees, no tall buildings, only the vast tundra stretching endlessly. The elders often share stories of how life once was: the freedom, the dogs, and the days before the Qualunaat came. But when the Qualunaat arrived, so too did the loss of that peace and freedom, along with the children they took. 

Nakurmiik - ᓇᑯᕐᒦᒃ  

This story is part of my memories and recollections taken from my personal journal while I was working as a nurse in Nunavik. For privacy, the name of the individual has been changed. This event took place while I was arriving at Puvirnituq’s airport after working for several weeks in Ivujivik. I was on my way down South, back to the Land that had adopted me, Tiohtià:ke. 

Markussi called out to me from a distance on the outskirts of the airport: “Ai, nurse!! I remember you from the village! I had my appointment with the doctor down South, and it went well. He even let me pick my appointment date. I know I was wrong, though. A lot of people had their appointments canceled because of me.” He paused, “But I was scared. We were able to talk things through, communicate, and find some common ground in the end. I was really relieved because I had been living with this dilemma. This dilemma started when I was 10 years old. There were two things. First, the federal school, or what they called the residential school. But really, these two things are the same," he paused again, then looked at me intently through his sunglasses.  “And the second one,” he continued, “was the doctor. My first appointment was in 1968, and now here we are, in 2023. That was a long time ago.”  

I’ll be blunt for you—that first appointment took place far from the land, far from family and he was physically hurt and abused. 

“But you, Nakurmiiye,” he moved toward me and embraced me with love, repeating “Nakurmiiye” over and over. We stayed like that for a while. “You made a difference; you were here when I had no one to talk to. You know there’s Nakurmiik (thank you in Inuktitut) and Nakurmiiye.” He showed the difference with his hands, like a scale. “Where I’m from, when an elder says the second one, it’s very powerful. You know I don’t have my mother anymore, and you don’t say Nakurmiik or Nakurmiiye  to your mother because she already knows. But you, you were here for me, and now you are that mother figure. I can finally let go and say it—Nakurmiiye.” He held me again in his arms and showered me with love.  

“Something else that made a difference was this doctor I met. The doctor was kind, and I can finally let go. He allowed me to choose my appointment date, so he had time to see the other patients who were waiting because of me. I realized they might have been suffering more because of me, so I was happy we could find a solution.” 

“Also, now I have my wife, and I love her deeply. I can finally love her fully, without all the hurt. And you, you helped me too. I wish you could stay with me forever. Nakurmiiye. Okay now, I need to go and get some fresh air, Nakurmiiye, Nakurmiiye.” 

After that encounter, I made my way back south to Tiohtià:ke, carrying Markussi’s story with me. I’d be lying if I said I fully understood what I did for him to praise me so much. But what is certain is that I felt a sense of privilege in that moment, though I couldn’t find the words to express it then—nor did I need to. When I left the land, I left with a piece of Markussi’s memories. It was later revealed to me that he entrusted this to me, so that I would bring this hurtful memory with me to a faraway land and that he would be free of it.  

Naomie Gamondele

immigrated to Tiohtià:ke from France ten years ago. She completed her Bachelor of Nursing Integrated and worked as a nurse for seven years with the last one being in Nunavik. More recently, she began her medical degree at McGill University in 2023. These experiences have fueled her deep passion for global health, equity, and justice.