Rhythm of the Tides: my arctic experience

Fallen Hunters

It's summer now in Baffin Island, and although I'm dressed for winter, the locals are out in their summer garb – shorts and short sleeves – at least the young people. I shiver just watching them go by as if it was 25C rather than the 5C registered by the thermometer on the weather network. With the wind-chill factor, we're in minus territory. Of course, It's still early morning; but when the sun rises at 3 am, our definition of early loses its meaning.

Don and I head over to what seems to be the social gathering place of Iqaluit: the Tim Hortons coffee shop. Other then the occasional Inuit that passes by, we are the only ones walking. All the other qallunaat, which now make up more than half of the city's population are driving their monster vehicles.

We sit down for our second breakfast, hot chocolate and muffin, and observe the steady stream of people that come and go. But most of the faces are the same as what we find in a Toronto Tim Hortons. Where are the Inuit?

Tim Hortons is at one end of the building that houses NorthMart, the biggest food store in town. At its entrance one can always find some Inuit men asking for money. Alcohol and substance abuse is a big problem, which creates an even bigger one – family abuse. Women bear the brunt of it but children are not spared either. Before we leave, we see ample signs of this horrible problem: bruises on faces and exposed body parts. It's appalling!

Lest we be quick to judge, family abuse is not limited to those at he bottom of the socio-economic strata, it happens in middleclass families too. Years ago, it happened in the family that we came to help. Even though Tiivi Quiatsuk is a gentle and mild person, under the influence of alcohol he abused his wife Caroline several times. The last time it happened she called the police, and when they arrived at the home there was an armed confrontation that led Tiivi to jail for two years, not including the eleven and one half months he served while awaiting trial. 

Inuit people haven't developed the same level of tolerance to alcohol as southerners because it's still new to their diet. Unfortunately, what happened to Tiivi is a pretty common occurrence in the north and the overcrowded jails are testimony to that.

In many cases, these once proud hunters have taken to the bottle because they lose their jobs and there is nothing for them to do. The caribou population on Baffin Island has been decimated and threatened to extinction; consequently, the hunt has been severely reduced by the Nunavut Government. So, rather than hunting caribou to feed their families, some of them congregate in front of the NorthMart entrance asking for money to feed their addictions.

While the caribou population is no longer sufficient to keep the hunters and their families fed, the seal population has been stable and the hunters could compensate by hunting more seals. But that doesn't sit well with animal lovers around the world, so major campaigns have been launched against the traditional seal hunt. While they haven't stopped it, they have reduced demand for sealskins, which had become a source of income for them. So it has been a double whammy for some.

Who is right, the animal lovers or the hunters?

Traditionally, the Inuit hunted only what was necessary to survive. But when our government disrupted their traditional lifestyle, they were forced to adapt to the new reality. One of the ways was to hunt more seals for trade so that they could buy the necessities of the new life that was thrust on them. In doing so, they broke one of the tenets of Inuit culture: kill no more than what's necessary for survival.

But, did they? Or, were they just trying to survive in a different world: the modern world?

With a few hundred more un-needed calories in our bellies, we set out for the biggest social centre in Iqaluit, if one can call it that. But leaving the building, we're approached by a fallen hunter. So I tell him that rather than giving him money, I will give him a good meal. He smiles politely and returns to his post.

The soup kitchen is where all the action is at lunchtime; but well before that, volunteers gather to prepare the meal and set up the dining room. Don and I called ahead to volunteer our services, so we get straight to work. At noon the door opens and a long line of people quickly forms in front of the serving station. The bowl of beef stew, the salad and the bun we give them is their only meal of the day. This is the new reality for some of the Inuit of Iqaluit!

Eighty years ago, before the arrival of the American air force, this scene would have been unheard of. There were no handouts. Families shared their food with each other because it was a matter of survival, and sharing was strongly entrenched in their culture.

Even twenty years ago, before it became the capital of Nunavut, Iqaluit was smaller and Inuit were the majority. Caribou was still plentiful enough then and some of the people now lined up in front of us would have had enough delicious country food to eat.

We have turned their world upside down and now they depend on us for charitable handouts. Some people come up for seconds, but soon the serving bowls are empty and I know that some are still hungry. The same scenario repeats itself day after day. It's so sad! As a Canadian I feel shame for what our government has done, and even more for what it's failing to do.

Despite having enormous responsibilities for their current plight, my country has turned its back on these people. The government hasn't delivered on the promises made before the territory was formed in 1999. These people are entitled to receive government aid, but they're not getting it.

With a large government presence, both federal and territorial, the majority of the people in Iqaluit are well paid, but if one doesn't have a government job, sooner or later, for one reason or another, one ends up here at the soup kitchen. They fall through the big cracks in the social safety net; and the Canadian government carries on as if it bears no responsibility for their pain, suffering and humiliation that goes on here day after day.

The people in front of me with bowl in hand asking for more don't want to be here any more than I want to be in their shoes. Unfortunately, a non-caring government attitude and ill-advised policies are forcing more people to line up for their daily meal. They are victims of government bureaucracy and my heart bleeds for them.

If it weren't for the southerners, who took over their land and their city, they'd still be hunting and fishing, living at least a semblance of their traditional lifestyle, as they still do in the remote villages. Now they are humbled to receiving charity from them who took over their town!

All is not well in my adopted country. The government piles billions of dollars on the rich, but the coffers are empty when it comes to fulfilling treaty obligations with First Nation peoples. I'm here to celebrate Canada's sesquicentennial, but what I see makes me sick to my stomach.

The soup kitchen in Iqaluit brings together volunteers from all quarters of life. Caring for the poor and disadvantaged is not only a task for middleclass men and women who are passed the age of maturity. Young people are also involved; and not all of them are from the south.

In fact, today, two young Inuit women are helping out. One is from a family of modest means and the other's family is at the high end of Inuit society. Being the daughter of a construction company owner, she attends private high school in Nova Scotia and from our conversation it's clear that she's well traveled. Having just returned from a trip to Italy, she describes to me all the wonderful places she saw. However, despite her family's wealth, and the privilege it confers on her, helping out the less fortunate is important to her.

In this context, today's youth never cease to amaze me. Regardless of where they live, they sing the same tune. They take time to travel and are aware of global, big-picture issues and are caring of the downtrodden, nature and our biosphere. Principles and ideals appear to be more important than the pursuit of wealth. This young woman seems to fit well with others I've met elsewhere in my travels.

Iqaluit needs more people like her: many, many more! The previous generation of visionaries got them their own territory. Her generation will need the skills and determination to make Nunavut an Inuit-run territory! Today, one-third of Nunavuttium are under the age of twenty-five and the territory's future is in their hands. And that future will depend much more on skilled and well-educated people than on hunters because the modern world is a high-tech world, even here in the arctic.