Where is Quatchi?
This conundrum is presented to spectators during snow clearing off the ice-breaks at hockey games. On large video screens, the Olympic mascot hides behind trees, jumps in and out of groundhog holes, waving wildly to the audience as we follow his (is Quatchi a he? I have no idea) escapades, all in the end to determine whether or not he is hiding behind 1, 2, or 3. Why? No idea. Unlike the video shell games played at other hockey games I have attended, there is no one vying for a prize package here. This is simple audience distraction, because obviously we can’t handle even thirty seconds of contemplation in the middle of an Olympic sporting event.
Beyond the idiocy of such mind-numbing entertainment, the mascots themselves are perplexing. Olympic mascots have been around since the 1968 France Winter Olympics, and are intended to represent the cultural heritage of the place where the games are taking place. Usually one mascot is unveiled for each games, but since the 2000 Olympic games in Sydney, there seems to be a growing trend for two or more mascots per games. For 2010 we have four mascots: Miga, Quatchi, Sumi, and Mukmuk—all supposedly inspired by traditional First Nations creatures. However, none of them seems to represent the aesthetics of other First Nations artworks I’ve seen in BC or elsewhere.
Have I, or anyone else, learned anything about aboriginal culture or the BC area through the creation and production of these four cultural ambassadors? I doubt it. I certainly haven’t. In fact, I can’t stand looking at the peculiar posse, who resemble toddler video game characters or Hello Kitty creatures, and whose voices and actions remind me of bad cartoons. In fact there are bad cartoons available for consumption on the Vancouver Olympics website. Why does Miga love snowboarding? What does Quatchi love to do when he’s not playing hockey? Apparently, the videos will reveal the answers to these important questions, representing the culture heritage of Canada.
Mascots, granted, are intended, for the most part, to delight children, and on that score I have seen many children happily hugging their Sumi plush toys and proudly sporting Quatchi toques. The stores are littered with merchandise from key rings to clothing to books. Thousands of people are buying in. Stores are making money. What’s the harm?
What’s the good? That’s what I’m trying to figure out. How many aboriginal athletes are represented in these games? Why weren’t any of their traditional sports—which I will be experiencing for the first time at the Arctic Games in Grande Prairie, Alberta following the closing of the Olympics—represented as exhibition sports during the games? With all of the controversy surrounding the relationship between the Olympics and aboriginal culture, I wouldn’t have expected these creatures to be bandied in such an inane manner.
While I’m all for inspiring children to care about sport and culture—and I’m convinced we need to inspire more children in these areas, as we have a physical and creative health crisis on our hands—I don’t see how the four Olympic mascots are achieving even a first step towards those goals. Most of these Made in China dolls will end up in landfills or in bins with Barbies and GI Joes. Then we might ask, Where is Quatchi?
