Mahahaa
Mahahaa
Mahahaa ran towards her, hunched over on all fours like a dog, moving with unbelievable speed. Aulaja turned to run, but the creature was already upon her, knocking her to the ground. Even before Aulaja landed on the lake ice, Mahahaa was on top of her, using its nails to rip into her clothing. When Mahahaa’s nails found the soft flesh of Aulaja’s stomach, it began to tickle her. Harder and harder it tickled, the sharp nails scratching into her stomach. Aulaja was in great pain, but she could not stop the laughter that was building inside her. Finally, Aulaja started to laugh…it was more like a scream than a laugh…but she could not stop. The more she laughed, the more it hurt—and the happier Mahahaa seemed to get. No matter how hard she fought she could not stop the tickling, as Mahahaa was much stronger than any human.
Mahahaa is a retelling of the Inuit legend of the same name. It tells the story of Aulaja, who lives near the frozen lake with her father and beloved dog Siku. Each time her father leaves her to go hunting, he gives her the same warning—that there are things in the world that would do her harm, and that she should rely on Siku to protect her. One day when her father is gone, Aulaja decides to go fishing and leaves Siku tied up near her home. When she hears Siku barking angrily, she returns to her iglu and finds herself face to face with Mahahaa, a demon that is known for tickling his victims to death. Mahahaa attacks Aulaja, but Siku rushes to her defense. In a bloody battle, Siku proves that Aulaja’s father was right—she would do anything to protect Aulaja.
I am always happy to learn more about Inuit culture and folklore, and the inclusion of the actual Inuit syllabics at the top of each page makes me wonder why all translated books don’t include this. The visual of the two languages side by side is such a beautiful and authentic way to share an additional piece of the Inuit culture. The story, itself, is exciting and emotional at the same time and is written with a cadence that often feels like poetry. Mahahaa would be a great book to use as an example of descriptive writing; readers feel what Aulaja hears, sees, and generally senses as the story progresses.
The illustrations in this book might be a bit much for younger grades; my own 10-year-old (who is, granted, not a particularly brave soul) wasn’t interested in reading past the perfectly terrifying image of the Mahahaa on page 18. The art is incredible; it manages to seem both current and traditional at the same time. The monster is, as some of my eighth-grade students described it, “nightmare fuel”, but there is exceptional beauty in the illustrations of the tundra and other landscapes. The illustration on page 11, of arctic char as seen through a hole in the ice, is so stunning I would frame it.
Mahahaa will be added to my intermediate (7-9) school library’s section of Indigenous writers and storytellers, but I might have reservations about adding it to the collection at a younger level.
Allison Giggey is the teacher-librarian at an intermediate school, and the mother to a 10-year-old who does ,not appreciate a good scary story.