A RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL TRAGEDY

    The Anglican Mission's stern-wheeler screamed two long, piercing blasts from its whistle.  It was a last call for passengers.  The captain was anxious to get underway.  Cacophonous, clanging, hissing and rumbling noises loudly proclaimed sufficient boiler pressure for departure.  Louisa and John, already on board, tried to keep their true feelings hidden as they stood near the rail, saying good bye to their parents.  Their father Ronnie, with a heavy heart, aware of a rapidly changing world, wanted his children to be prepared for the future.  Apprehensively, he thought it appropriate that his children, Louisa and John, should attend school in Hay River.  Their mother, Laura, knowing that it would be next spring before she would see her children again, with tears in her eyes, dutifully agreed.  Other children from Fort McPherson noisily said their good byes, and then excitedly scampered up the narrow gangplank, not aware of the loneliness that would soon strike them.  As soon as all the school children were on board, the gangplank was pulled up and with much slapping and splashing, the paddlewheel gathered speed.  More good byes were said above the suddenly increased noise; the departing children waved from the railing, their families waved from shore. 

    The boat steamed north on the Peel River, announcing its impending arrival at other settlements with shrill blasts from its steam whistle; down the Peel River towards Aklavik, to Tuktoyaktuk, then south, up the Mackenzie River.  The stern-wheeler gathered children and left behind many tear filled eyes at each stop, before reaching Hay River, faraway to the south, where Ronnie had never been, and had no desire to go. 

    Ronnie hoped the sacrifice would eventually be worth the pain.  In his mind he saw John, with a formal education, becoming able to understand and cope with a rapidly changing world; able to guide others to a better life for their families.  He saw Louisa, their firstborn, able to understand and impart to her children, the importance of a modern education. 

    Soon after arriving at Hay River, Louisa and John, amongst many others, succumbed to a flu epidemic that savagely attacked the students of the Hay River residential school.  Their first year at school was also their last.  They never returned to Fort McPherson but were buried in Hay River, without their family's presence, with a brief utilitarian funeral. The white man's disease, brought to North America with immigrating Europeans, fiercely attacked natives throughout the north.  When it struck, it struck with force, decimating many villages. 

    When Ronnie heard the news of what had happened to Louisa and John, in a message verbally given to him by the RCMP, two weeks after the death of his children, he knew he had made a mistake.  He vowed never to send his children away again.  His children would receive the same traditional education that he had.  There had to be a better way to teach children. He didn't need foreign ways forced upon him in order to live his way, with his family.  His life was a hard life, but it was more predictable than having blind faith, trusting people he didn't even know, to teach his children, to look after his children. His children needed love. Only he and his family could really do that. 

    On the other hand he saw the world changing, and knew that his people had to change also.  The cost of change however, was too high for Ronnie.  He felt defeated, and frustrated.  How could his people adapt to the white man’s ways that were being forced upon them. It didn’t seem right. The cost was too much to accept. They were not ready . . . maybe later.     

CHRISTMAS IN FORT MCPHERSON   

    The first home that Aggie could remember, was a small three room log cabin, built by her father, situated high on a bluff beside the Peel River, thirty‑five miles upstream from Fort McPherson.  Aggie was eleven years old.  The winter was long and cold.  Keeping warm and fed required much work.  Aggie always helped with the chores, along with the rest of the family, hauling water and firewood to the house, cooking meals, washing clothes and dishes, cleaning, removing garbage, stretching and tanning hides, skinning animals, feeding dogs, repairing fish nets, scaling fish . . . chores to provide food, shelter and clothing for the family.      

    In the fall, before the ice grew too thick on a nearby lake, ice blocks, cut with a Swede saw, were laboriously carried to the house, where they were scattered on the snow, near the door.  Inside the cabin, heat from the wood stove slowly melted blocks of ice in a large barrel, providing clean, cold water.  Aggie filled the kitchen sink with hot water from a large metal container, that was kept filled with water, on top of the stove.  She refilled the hot water tank with cold water from the ice barrel, and began washing the breakfast dishes. 

    Christmas was not far away.  Aggie wanted to spend Christmas in Fort McPherson.  Last year they stayed home.  Occasional visitors that passed by on the Peel River often talked about Fort McPherson life.  The stories made her yearn to join in the laughter and listen to the music at the magical dances. The loneliness of living in the bush made her wish for the company of other children.  She remembered visiting the Hudson's Bay store; it was packed with goods of every description, smelling so fresh and new.  Aggie could almost taste the multi coloured Christmas candy.  She sighed, finished washing the dishes, and accepted spending yet another Christmas in the bush.

    Aggie learned to trap by watching her father.  It was November; the furs were prime.  Dressed warmly, she walked in the bitter cold, to a nearby lake, to check her traps.  While other family members travelled long distances with dogs, setting more than a hundred traps, Aggie always walked, and set a few traps, randomly, conveniently close to her home.  Most of the time she used fish for bait; even when frozen, the animals could easily smell it.  Often she caught squirrels.  Occasionally a trapped weasel surprised and delighted her as she visited her tiny trap line.  Today she was disappointed. 

    A raven squawked from the top of a nearby spruce tree and flew up in expanding circles.  Aggie watched the raven and wished for animals in all of her traps.  The raven dived and seemed to flip upside‑down for an instant; a sign that her wish would come true.  While watching the raven, her disappointment vanished and she looked forward to the next time she would check her traps. Perhaps tomorrow.  The raven, she knew, wouldn't let her down. 

    Laura, Aggie's mother, knowing that Aggie wanted to spend Christmas in Fort McPherson, talked to Ronnie.  He agreed to move the family to Fort McPherson for Christmas celebrations.  Aggie immediately started to prepare for the journey.  She looked forward to participating in the magic of Christmas, with its associated gifts, Christmas candy and old time dances with live music.  Already, the fiddle music from previous dances, played in her mind. 

    Early in December, they packed their sled high with furs which they planned to sell to the Hudson's Bay Store.  After travelling all day on the wind swept Peel River, they arrived at their small, two‑room, cabin in Fort McPherson.

    Their firewood supply was low. They had to travel far for firewood as the trees near town were too small. To save firewood, they allowed the cabin stove to cool at night. They required a major supply of firewood for cabin comfort, cooking and washing.  A wood gathering trip was planned for the next day.

    The sun approached the horizon from below.  It would not peek above it until almost mid January.  Two people departed with a dog team, to an area about 10 miles from town, to spend a couple of exhausting hours cutting wood, where the trees were large and the snow, waist‑deep.  Later, two more workers hitched up their dogs and joined them.  The two teams later returned, in darkness, the dogs straining with heavy loads of wood, cut into eight foot lengths.  They then cut the logs into short lengths and split them with an axe.  Aggie helped to complete the task by piling the wood neatly, close to the house, ready for use.  They burned the dry wood first, allowing the green wood to cure until next season.  The wood gathering task was repeated every week during the long arctic winter.  Aggie always helped to place the split wood into neat piles. 

    The annual Christmas Feast was fast approaching. Everybody pitched in to cook meat, bake bannock, brew tea . . . Ronnie was cooking a gargantuan pot of soup, for the feast this evening.  Laura baked some bannock and the girls prepared tea in a large cooking pot. 

    Everybody in town attended the feast, held in the community hall.  There was plenty of food for all.  Leftovers were shared and taken home by all.

    Aggie and her sisters knew that a dance would take place that evening.  Dances always followed feasts.  They also knew that their father, not wanting them to be tempted by any indiscretions, would not allow them to attend.  They planned to slip away, unnoticed, while the rest of the family was sleeping.  The dance didn't usually begin before ten or eleven in the evening and it would continue until about eight o'clock the next morning.  That evening Aggie and her sisters put their plan into action. 

    "Let's hide our parkas outside so we can sneak away quickly tonight," Edith said.

    "OK, Quick, nobody's looking now.  Let's go."

    The girls ran outside carrying their parkas and hid them under a large wash tub, then quickly ran to the woodpile to pick an armload of firewood to carry inside.  What could they get but praise for doing such a good deed? 

    "Where are your parkas?" their mother said as they stood in the doorway, panting, with arms fully loaded. 

    "We just went outside to get some wood for the stove.  We didn't need them," Edith said.

    "Yes. Is Daddy coming home soon?" Aggie said, trying to change the subject.

    Their mother, smiling, promptly went outside.  She immediately noticed that the wash tub, normally upright, was upside‑down.  She lifted it up.  The girls gulped.  She brought in four parkas.  The girls stayed home that night.  Ronnie didn't want them to spend all night at the dance.  He would watch the girls closely until morning.  Aggie fell asleep listening to the faint sounds of fiddle music and laughter coming from the community hall.  Even that sound was good, when compared to the silence she would experience had they stayed at Three Cabin Creek. 

    The weeks past quickly.  Winter changed to spring.  Days were long, bright and sunny.  Ronnie prepared to return to the bush, anxious to reach Three Cabin Creek before ice break-up.  While packing for the trip, Aggie found a squirrel pelt that she had caught with the help of the raven at Three Cabin Creek, but which she had forgotten to stretch and dry.  She wanted to dry the skin so badly; properly dried and stretched, it would be worth two dollars at the Hudson's Bay store. 

    "Edith, what can I do?  Dad wants to leave.  There's no time to dry this fur."

    "You have to take it with us and dry it later."

    "We could spend the money at the Bay.  What if I dry it in the oven?" Aggie asked desperately.

    "That's no good.  It will tear to pieces when they send it out to be tanned."

    "That's okay, they won't find out 'till way after." 

    Aggie put the fur on a wooden stretcher, then placed it in the oven to dry.  Ten minutes later she removed the stretcher and with Edith, ran to the Bay.  Edith already knowing, that next fall, she and Aggie would attend school in Aklavik, bought some pencils and paper with the two dollars.  Aggie bought some candy. 

AKLAVIK RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL

    It was a difficult decision for Ronnie, to allow Edith and Aggie to attend Residential School.  Ronnie remembered Louisa and John, his first children, and their deaths at the Residential School in Hay River.  Now that a new school was built in Aklavik, north of Fort McPherson, Ronnie decided to make another sacrifice for his children's future:  Aggie and Edith would attend school next fall, in Aklavik. 

    Back at Three Cabin Creek, Aggie reluctantly began preparing for school.  She helped her mother make moccasins, winter clothes, canvas boots, mits . . . there was much to do.  The Anglican river boat, scheduled to make a special trip up the Peel River to Fort McPherson in the fall, to pick up the children for school was also being readied.  The short summer passed quickly.  As the time approached for them to meet the boat, Aggie, enjoying the summer at Three Cabin Creek, thought about leaving her family; Mom and Dad, and her brothers and sisters too young to go to school.  Aggie's complaints were quieted with promises of how good it would be at school.  There would be lots of candies and wonderful food, and many new friends.  She realized there was nothing she could say to change her father's mind.  She packed her new clothes and soon the family headed for Fort McPherson to meet the mission boat. 

    "Agnes Pascal," the purser called. 

    Aggie hesitated, then went on board the large Anglican mission motor vessel. 

    "Edith Pascal," the purser called. 

    Aggie's older sister was going with her.     

    Too soon, the boat's engine started and with a deep rumble, slowly moved away from the small dock.  Aggie looked back at her mother and father and little brothers and sisters standing on the dock, and wished she could get back on shore.  She had never felt so alone before.  It was very, very hard.  She looked back toward Fort McPherson until the boat went around the bend in the river and she could no longer see the settlement.  She knew it would be almost a year before she could return.  A year seemed a very long time.  Silently, her loneliness swelled, accompanied with tears. 

    The boat was large, but being confined to it for the almost three full days it took to reach Aklavik, made it seem tiny. The vessel finally reached Aklavik and Aggie and her sister Edith were happy to disembark.

    Ushered, up the hill to the school, they immediately began a regimented registration process.  It was foreign to Aggie and at times filled her with fear.  She didn't know what would happen to her next and expected nothing pleasant.  First she was forced to take a bath.  Aggie gave all her clothes to a supervisor; she was allowed to keep her moccasins.  She would not wear her clothes again until she was ready to leave, next spring.  After being provided with long black stockings, black bloomers and a heavy navy dress, she was given a hair cut, just above her ears.  Then, directed upstairs to the dormitory, a supervisor assigned a number to Aggie.  It decided where her bed was, her toothbrush, her basin . . . "number seventy" became her name, more often than not.  She never forgot it. 

    Aggie, beginning her first year at school, experiencing many unfamiliar things, longed for the support of her family.  A few days later, Edith became ill and was admitted to the Aklavik hospital.  Suddenly Aggie, number seventy, was intensely homesick.  She could no longer depend upon her older sister for any help in coping with her new environment.  Her isolation and loneliness increased when she tried to visit her sister, and was tersely told that children were not allowed in the hospital.  She wished to go home. 

    Edith stayed in the Aklavik hospital for ten months.  During that time, Aggie changed.  Her outgoing personality, forced to the forefront because of Edith's illness, helped her to adapt to her new loneliness and she began to enjoy school.  She found the school's rules imposed upon her, exceedingly strict, but being accustomed to her father's sternness she accepted them without question; activities scheduled for precise times, and strict rules like not being allowed to talk to the boys that lived in another part of the school, and other rules she didn’t understand.  Her freedom was very limited and she accepted it. 

    Christmas was always a special time for Aggie.  The celebration at school was also special.  Following meals, normal desserts of dehydrated fruit or last years preserves, changed to desserts of Jell‑O or home made ice cream.  Aggie liked Jell‑O. 

    The children practiced for their Christmas concert.  Roles of the Virgin Mary, Joseph, the three wise men, the angels, the shepherds, were played by the children.  They all had a part to play. The event was publicized for weeks ahead of time, and was discussed by all, and everybody in Aklavik attended.

    Christmas Eve, the largest available classroom served as the auditorium.  It was full.  Everybody sang Christmas carols before the nativity play.  Aggie was impressed.  It was wonderful.  After the concert was over, all the students went for lunch.  The children, allowed to stay up later than usual, were in bed before ten o'clock that evening, but not before they had hung up their stockings.  Aggie knew she had been good and believed she would get "lots of stuff" in her stocking.  Her father had told her, "If you're bad, you get a stick and a rotten potato in your stocking."  She didn't want that to ever happen to her. 

    Christmas morning, when the lights came on, everybody ran for their stockings.  Aggie wasn't disappointed; her stocking, number seventy, was full. 

    School resumed after Christmas.  Each day, after school, the children went for a walk to the Bay store, or sometimes they went for a walk across the river.  Saturday they went shopping at the Bay.  Their supervisor kept the children's money for safekeeping and made sure nobody spent more than fifty cents, or sometimes, at most, a dollar of their money on each Saturday.  Some of the girls would buy butter, because at school they were most often served lard instead of butter.  Aggie bought candy, and missed her sister even more when she realized that she could not share her candy with Edith.  She shared her candy with other friends. 

    In March, Aggie and the other children went trapping for muskrats.  Just like back home.  They walked about a mile and a half to one of the many nearby lakes, pockmarked with rat pushups, to set traps.  Any muskrats that were caught were taken back to the residential school, where there were stretched and dried, prior to being sold at the Hudson's Bay store.  The girl's supervisor kept track of and rationed the money for them. 

    In April, before the river ice became unsafe, all of their traps were gathered and returned to the school.  The daily walks were shorter because they could no longer cross the river to the lakes to visit their traps.  Walks now took the girls past the Roman Catholic school.  Often, fights broke‑out, because the RC and Anglican children, for reasons unknown to Aggie, didn't like each other.  The Anglican girls were easy to identify, with their bright red 'tams' on their heads.  None of the fights were ever serious.  It was just, sort of, expected. 

    Milk was delivered to the school daily, from cows owned by a resident doctor in Aklavik.  The doctor had a barn, where most of the time, the cows were kept. Most of the children really disliked the milk, but it was quickly consumed. Fresh milk otherwise had to come from outside of the Northwest Territories and was too expensive and thus very seldom acquired.  An alternative was powdered milk. The children were happy when the cows contracted tuberculosis and were all destroyed.  Aggie, years later, wondered what contribution the cows had made to the high incidence of tuberculosis among Aklavik residents. 

    In June the sun's warmth was felt twenty‑four hours each day as it circled without setting.  School was over for the year and Aggie prepared to return home. The girls’ supervisor, now a close friend, helped to get Aggie's clothes ready . . . the clothes she wore when she arrived in Aklavik.

    Aggie, clean and bright, almost dragged her heavy bag onto the boat. She was early, so she sat on the boat, near the rail, with her bag at her feet, and quietly waited for the boat to depart while she watched the bustle of the crew and passengers around her.  She was startled when she saw Edith coming on board. Oh how she had missed her . . . Aggie was so happy that Edith was well, and was going home with her. 

   The trip home again took three days and two nights, but lack of darkness made the time seem far shorter.  When they passed some fish camps along the way, Aggie knew they were really on their way home.  The boat left the Mackenzie channel and entered the Peel River.  She was excited.  Finally they came around the last bend in the Peel River before reaching Fort McPherson.  "There's Fort McPherson," she shouted. She wanted to see her parents, the rest of her family, her home.  She wanted to show her parents her books, what she had accomplished that first year in school.  

    Most of Fort McPherson's people were there at the dock, to meet them.  Aggie saw her Mom and Dad standing on the shore.  Everybody was there!  Aggie's sparkling smile was broad as her family gratefully and lovingly greeted her.  Number seventy had left Aklavik.  Aggie was home. 

 By Aggie Ulasovetz as told to Roger Ulasovetz

ANOTHER RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL TRAGEDY

    The delectable aroma of food drifted with the wind throughout the settlement of Fort McPherson as volunteers busily prepared for the feast.  July first was the biggest celebration, other than Easter, which occurred every year. It was the last celebration before the annual exodus from the community to the many fish camps situated along the nearby rivers.  The community baked Bannock, brewed huge pots of tea, cooked caribou, moose meat, soup; everything that together, would make it a special feast.  There was never a shortage of volunteers to help.  There was never a shortage of food.     

    Before the feast, while food was being prepared, sports events were organized and held next to the Hudson's Bay store. Foot races, gunnysack races, rifle target shooting, soccer, soft ball and tug of war competitions were never short of participants.  Canoe races were held on the Peel River.  For prizes, the winners received money, previously collected as entry fees. 

    After the last sports event was over, the Hudson's Bay manager brought a large box of gum candies.  He took handfuls of the sweet confection and threw them up in the air, over the watchful, giggling little children, who were delighted with the prospect of filling their cheeks with the sweet confection.  They scrambled to gather the candy that fell on the grass around them.  The entire large box was emptied this way.  It was the last event and it marked the end of the sports day.  Everybody walked home, talking about the various events, the winners, and the fun they had watching and participating.  Everybody now looked forward to the feast with growing appetites, as they made final preparations, and deliveries of food to the community hall. 

    Later that evening, the Chief fired two gunshots, near the centre of the settlement, signalling the beginning of the feast.  People began walking to the community hall from all directions, carrying their plates, spoons, knives, forks and an empty flour or sugar sack in which to carry home leftovers. Upon arrival they sat on chairs and benches around the perimeter of the hall . . . around an enormous spread of food positioned on the floor in the centre.  After it appeared that all had arrived, the Chief said a short prayer, and the food was passed around by volunteers. 

    Soup, the first course, was followed by meat, bannock, tea, coffee and sweet biscuits.  Cigarettes, oranges from the Hudson's Bay store, candies and gum, topped off the meal.  Intentionally, people brought more food than they could possibly eat at one sitting.  Volunteers distributed the leftovers, ensuring that the elders received all they could readily use.  With nourished bodies and happy minds, conversations moved outside as everybody walked home to rest before the dance, which always followed the July 1st feast. 

    Late that evening, two sharp rifle shots penetrated the still evening air.  It was time for the dance to begin.  Local musicians, self taught, with two fiddles and three guitars were tuning up, soon to provide music for an evening of fun and dance. Jigs and square dances were most popular but the waltz and novelty dances, like the "Rabbit Dance" weren't far behind.  It was very hot and smoky in the community hall. Outside the evening air was calm. Doors were left wide open, in hope of creating a breeze inside the hall, but in fact allowed clouds of mosquitos to enter.  The mosquitos swarmed around everybody's ankles.  Everybody ignored the heat, the smoke from cigarettes and the mosquitos.  Fiddles wailed, guitars strummed, and people danced all night, until seven o'clock the next morning.  The celebration ended with the musicians weary, the dancers exhausted and everybody laughing contentedly.

    All was quiet until late afternoon, as people recuperated from the previous day's celebrations.  Thoughts turned to life in the fish camps located along the Peel, Arctic Red, Road, Wind, Mackenzie and Porcupine rivers.  Families began packing their belongings, to return to the camps, to spend the rest of the summer there, until late August. 

    Next day, heavily loaded with everything needed for the summer, the dogs were put on board scows and the families climbed in also, eager to get to their favourite campsite beside a river, usually one or two days away.  Fish were plentiful at the fish camps.  Fish nets, pulled from the water once or twice a day always contained Whitefish, usually contained Jackfish (Northern Pike), and Suckers, and occasionally contained Trout, Crooked Backs and Coney.

    At their fish camp, Aggie, with her sisters, helped to make dried fish by cutting off the heads and scaling the freshly caught fish.  The rest of the operation, required more experience.  Their parents, expertly filleted and cut the fish in preparation for its smoking. 

    Fish was important to them.  They usually fed raw fish to the dogs, baked, boiled or fried it for themselves, and smoked or dried it for storage, to use later.  Ronnie built a large smoke house using green willows.  Inside, the fish was hung high, to smoke over a fire of green and dry willows.  Some of the smoked fish was later removed from the smoke house and hung in the sun to dry thoroughly, with another smoke fire kept underneath, to keep the flies and birds, mostly Ravens, away.

    When the fish operation became routine and was well on its way to providing enough fish for the family's needs, a day here and there could be set aside for doing other things, like picking Blueberries.  Aggie loved picking Blueberries.  She learned to pick very fast using both hands to drop the berries into a lard pail, which she positioned on the ground in front of her.  She didn't worry about picking really clean as the berries could be cleared of leaves and stems later, at her leisure, back in camp.  Ronnie, however, was able to pick both cleanly and quickly; an unusual combination among berry pickers.  The best locations, always high on hilltops, provided the family with beautiful views of the surrounding countryside, making the all‑day expedition even more enjoyable. Lunch, beside an open fire, consisted of fresh fish, baked next to the fire, fresh bannock, lots of tea, and for dessert; Blueberries. 

    The family returned to camp with their containers full of blueberries.  They fed fish to their dogs, then sat around the campsite resting and talking, while Loons cried, sorrowfully and peacefully, in the distance. 

    Days shortened, evenings cooled, mosquitoes disappeared.  Families that had children going to school prepared to leave the fish camps.  Those that didn't have to meet the mission boat at Fort McPherson, stayed longer.  Ronnie accepted school now.  Aggie was going to attend for another year, her fifth.  Edith, being sixteen, was not allowed to go to school at Aklavik.  She was to stay home.  Ronnie's daughter Louisa, named after their deceased Louisa, was going to school for the first time with Aggie.

    Aggie and Louisa, wearing new clothes bought by their father at the Hudson's Bay store, awaited the arrival of the mission boat at Fort McPherson with much apprehension. 

    Mr. Gibson, the school principal, arrived with the boat to meet the children's parents.  Ronnie presented his two girls to him. 

    "These are my two girls," he said proudly.  "They're going to school this year.  It's Aggie's fifth year. It's the first time for Louisa."

    Aggie noticed that Louisa was afraid. "Don't worry, I'll look after you," she said.  Louisa continued to weep quietly.

    Louisa wept a lot at school in Aklavik.  Three weeks after school started she became very ill and was hospitalized.  A couple of weeks later Aggie also became ill and was admitted to the Aklavik hospital, into the same ward as Louisa.  Christmas came and passed. The girls grew weaker each day. Louisa, unable to sleep, cried late one night. The crying turned to screaming as Louisa's pain increased. Aggie was worried. Never before had she heard Louisa in such obvious pain. 

    "Why doesn't somebody help her?" Aggie said loudly.  Tears trickled down her cheeks as she softly cried for Louisa.  Louisa's distressing screams continued, until a nurse came, not to comfort her, but to spank her, for making too much noise.  Sympathetically, silently, Aggie's crying intensified, tears wetting her pillow until she finally fell asleep.

    In the morning, the doctor awakened Aggie.  "You're going back to school now," he said quietly.  "You will be able to rest there."

    They wrapped Aggie in blankets, put her in a sled, and pulled it to school, where she was sent straight to bed, to get better. 

    The following morning, she awoke to the sound of someone entering her room.

    "How are you doing today?" the nurse asked.

    "Fine," Aggie answered softly.

    The nurse sat next to Aggie, on the bed, looking sad.  "Aggie," she said, "God took your little sister home."

    Aggie didn't understand, but somehow thought that Louisa had died.  "Did Louisa die?" she asked.

    "Yes, Aggie, your sister died at five o'clock this morning."

    Aggie burst into tears.  She remembered her promise to look after Louisa.  She couldn't do anything about it.  Louisa was gone. 

    Ronnie, while hunting for caribou, in the Richardson mountains, watched a dog team approaching from across the wide valley.  Even though the team was still far away, he recognized it as the RCMP dog team from Fort McPherson.

    From the look on the Corporal's face, Ronnie thought that something was wrong. Maybe there was an accident at home. 

    The RCMP member approached and said, "Hi Ronnie.  I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. It's Louisa. A radio message arrived from Aklavik this morning."

    "What's wrong?" Ronnie asked, concerned, with a strong feeling that Louisa must be ill, or maybe had an accident at school.

    "I'm sorry.  I'm afraid she passed away early this morning."

    Stunned by the Corporal's words, Ronnie crouched down and put his hands to his face.

    "A plane will bring her to McPherson tomorrow. Is there anything you would like me to do?" the Corporal asked quietly.

    Ronnie was silent.  The Corporal turned to leave.

    "Yes. Bring Aggie back with Louisa." Ronnie said with a cracking voice. 

    Aggie, having spent weeks in bed without much exercise, struggled to dress herself.  Her body unsteady, she packed her bag the best she could, then dropped exhausted, onto her bed. 

    Too weak to walk, a supervisor placed Aggie on a sled, wrapped her in blankets, and pulled the sled to a waiting aircraft.  Aggie was placed in the aircraft on a portable seat. On the floor next to her, lay a narrow bundle, wrapped in a gray sheet, and tied securely with a rope.

    Thirty minutes later, the aircraft landed on the Peel river next to Fort McPherson.  Aggie stepped off the plane and saw her father waiting nearby.  Ronnie, very sad, walked to the plane, removed the gray bundle and carefully placed it on his sled.  Aggie wondered why her father didn't bring any dogs with the sled as he started pulling it towards the community. They walked slowly, up the steep hill to town, with Aggie following behind.  Tired and weak, Aggie could barely keep up with the slow pace.  Slowly, deliberately, they climbed.  As they approached the top, Aggie saw her mother, with other friends, waiting for them.  Suddenly Aggie's mother, Laura, screamed, and wept.  As if on a signal, the other women also began to loudly lament. Aggie quickly ran the last few steps to her mother and hugged her. 

    "Only you, you came back. Your sister is dead," Laura said, holding Aggie tightly. 

    Only now did Aggie realize what the gray bundle at her feet was. "Why is there no coffin?" she asked. Then she too began to cry as they mournfully walked the rest of the way home. 

    Aggie emptied her bag.  She unpacked her Christmas gifts and removed her money from the white envelope that the supervisor had given her when she boarded the plane.  She handed the money to her father. 

    "I sent you that money" her father said.  "It's yours.  You do what you like with it."

    "I never had fifty dollars before," aggie replied thoughtfully.  "It's a lot of money." Aggie handed the money to her father again.  "You could make a good coffin for Louisa."

    He accepted the money.  "I'll make a good coffin," he said. 

    A group of men from the settlement helped to dig a grave in the frozen, granite-hard ground, overlooking the Peel river next to the Anglican church. Ronnie worked to build the coffin. A group of women prepared hot meals for all. 

    The funeral took place in the Anglican church. The coffin was open. Louisa, with beautiful dark brown hair, appeared to be peacefully sleeping. People could almost see a smile on her face as they filed past to see her for the last time.  Ronnie was first. He looked for a long time, quietly, deep in thought, then moved on. Laura was next. She looked at Louisa and burst into loud heartrending weeping, filling the church with her mournful cries. Aggie was next.  "She's so beautiful," Aggie whispered to herself.  The rest of the family and friends followed, many asking themselves why she had to die; only eleven years old. After the last person had filed past the coffin, Ronnie looked at Louisa again, and said, "Good bye, my baby."  He covered Louisa's face with a silk kerchief.

    As the family was going out of the church one of the men put the top on the coffin, and two hammers began nailing it closed.  Aggie's mother stopped by the door, frozen.  "Louisa," she screamed.

    She was helped out of the church by her husband, Ronnie.

    Aggie was glad, when the next day, Ronnie moved his family back to the bush . . . to Three Cabin Creek. 

 By Aggie Ulasovetz as told to Roger Ulasovetz