It was Nunavut Day this week in Iqaluit- the territorial capital located in Frobisher Bay.
July ninth also marked nine months to the day of my move to “North of Sixty”. Aside from the personal milestone, this year’s celebrations were significant for another reason.
My first year working as a journalist in Nunavut happened to coincide with what is arguably the biggest event in the territory’s history- devolution. Devolution proceeded the April 1 celebrations when first Inuk Governor General Mary Simon came to mark not only the anniversary of the formal transfer of over thirty years of Land Claims negotiations, but the 25th anniversary of the creation of the territory we now call Nunavut.
No one knew when I took the job last September that this was coming down the pipeline so soon, and it’s been a privilege as a Canadian and an historian to have been on the ground recording up close and very personal with those at the heart of the largest land transfer in our nation’s history, nearly as long as my lifetime in the making. The land making the transfer over the next three years, signed January 21, 2024 in Iqaluit, is some of the most breathtakingly beautiful scenery in the world. I really never tire of looking out my window or walking around town, camera at the ready.
Devolution was really, at its core, about people. So is my job. The Inuit term, “Namminiqsurniq”, means “achieving greater autonomy”. What it comes down to in a deeper sense and a real translation is about the return of more than just land to Nunavut Inuit authority. It encompasses all things, but must fundamentally, Inuit agency of their own lives, culture, language, government and resources. The excitement in the air at these two celebrations was tangible. It was alive. You could taste it like the traditional country food being served.
Choosing to move here for work was a priceless opportunity, the kind I had dreamt of all my life and had really been waiting for. I came into a new, completely unique culture with its own customs and language formed by a complex history and to make a new life for myself.
The nature of my job- which is as an Indigenous reporter for the Local Journalism Initiative- demands that I immerse myself completely in all aspects of life here, unreservedly.
In the words of my new coworker as my plane took off from Yellowknife to Iqaluit via Rankin Inlet on the mainland, where I was soon to have my first views of the tundra and the true North, “The adventure of a lifetime begins.”
By now, some of my interview subjects or those I’ve met through the course of my work have become my friends. I’ve decorated my own home with Inuit art all bought from local artists around town and raised a rescue dog from puppyhood.
Although I will never forget where I came from and remain in constant contact with many from my hometown, the idea of “community”- the word used to refer to Nunavut’s 25 hamlets and towns- has taken on a more nuanced and deeper significance for me.
Never before have I seen that word take on such a full and true meaning. Everyone knows everyone and about everyone, yes, and the families specific to each hamlet or town go back for untold generations, but the practice of supporting and helping each other to survive life’s hardships is unparalleled. I am touched to my core when I see the posts in the Iqaluit Facebook group asking for any country food (traditional Inuit fare, generally seal, caribou or whale meat), snacks, or leftovers by those in need or simply hankering after food from the land brought in by hunters. Not only is the food immediately offered by multiple people around town, but some even include delivery. No agenda, no questions, judgement, or shame. Truly helping your neighbour. It’s a sense of community that surpasses all my other lived experiences. It’s something we southerners could learn from as I see greed and love of money destroying my home province. Prompting my move in the first place.
Although I am a seasoned lifelong traveller with dual citizenship, this is by far the longest period of time I’ve ever been away from home. Iqaluit, where I now live, is somewhere between a small town of about 8000 people and a geopolitical hub of increasing significance.
With a population of 85% Inuit in Nunavut, it is also an incredibly diverse mix of Indigenous, Anglo, French, African, and Caribbean cultures. “Our land”- as is Nunavut’s translation- takes on a new meaning as this hub of politics, art, culture, wildlife, resource extraction, and military presence will continue to grow at an incredible pace. “Arctic sovereignty”, as we’ve seen from the NATO conference and myself personally reporting on the new foreign policy and national defence roundtable in early May, is the byword that places Iqaluit and Nunavut squarely in the centre of Canada’s plans for its future.
WRITTEN BY: KIRA WRONSKA DORWARD
