17 September 2018

Inuvik

Here is the oft-postponed description of the Aboriginal Day celebrations in Inuvik.

The Arctic is not all snow, ice and polar bears. In summer, at least, there are large areas of green and the temperatures can get above zero for weeks at a time. In fact it was very pleasantly warm while we were there. 21 degrees Celsius on 21 June, which was Aboriginal Day.

Inuvik has an open, grassed area near the centre of town. In New Zealand we would call it a “domain”. It had a large stage, and a semicircle of tiered seating. Beyond the seating were a few stalls. Food was being prepared at some of them. Members of the local juvenile population played happily on the stage.

The time advertised as the start of the festivities came and went. No-one showed any concern. About half an hour later than the official kick-off the children were asked to leave the stage and the welcoming speeches began. As we have previously reported, visitors were very warmly welcomed. In fact, the master of ceremonies asked if there was anyone from outside Canada. We put up our hands and were presented with a little bag each, containing souvenirs of Inuvik. The thermal coffee mugs, in particular, have been very useful.

In any similar event in New Zealand the stalls behind the seats would have been selling their produce, but in Inuvik the two principal food stalls were simply handing out helpings to anyone who queued up. One supplied hamburgers to the hungry, the other delivered an Arctic favourite, fish and potatoes. There was a condition attached to the fish and potatoes; you had to supply your own plate. We had plates and cutlery in our motor home, of course. The fish and potatoes were very good.

The main activity on the stage for the day was a demonstration of Arctic games. To be quite truthful, we wouldn't want to play many of these games at, say, a family picnic on the beach.


This one could be fun. The man in the blue shirt is trying to make another player laugh by imitating the sound of an animal and pulling faces. The last one to crack and grin is the winner.

Most of the games were to help the young Inuit to prepare for the rigours of traditional life in the Arctic, which requires both strength and athleticism.


A one-man-per-side scrum. The object is to push your opponent backwards.


Women played all the games, too. The referee is making sure that they have adopted the correct starting position before trying to pull. Note that the 'free' hand is holding on to the opponent's ankle. We didn't understand the significance of this, except that it is one of the rules. The contest is best of three pulls.

Going outside when the temperature is minus 40 can involve great discomfort. To get ready for this winter activity two players sit on the ground with a stick between them and push. The stick is lodged just above the chin and then, in round 2, between the upper lip and the nose. It was explained that this simulates the pains in the face that very low temperatures can generate. There was no faking. The stick bent so far it almost snapped.

We have probably all skipped rope at one time or another. The Inuit version demands a sequence of different 'jumps' that start off with the familiar body-upright-launch-with-the-feet and get progressively more difficult, ending with a push-up and, for experts only, a 'bottom' jump from a seated position.


The player is being carried across the stage holding on to the stick with his wrist, not his fingers. I don't think any competitor made it all the way across.




Girls too.

Here the objective is to hang on with your feet. The guy in the picture did hang on all the way across.


The final contest was to kick a soft ball suspended above the stage. One format is from a standing start, the other variation allows a run-up. The tricky bit is the requirement to land on one foot; the one you kicked the ball with! Everyone has a turn and then the ball is lifted higher. It starts at about head hight. The world record with a run-up is with the ball about nine feet off the ground. The local champion (pictured) has managed well over eight feet.

A really good game was the blanket-toss. Strong men were summoned from the audience because it takes a lot of co-ordinated pull to generate the upward thrust to get the player airborne.



After the games came drumming and dancing.




He wasn't a member of any official troupe, but he could dance in time to the music.

Finally there was a jigging contest. This is certainly not an old tradition. The music was distinctly Irish in style and played on a fiddle. Although it was all in fun, it was a genuine contest with several age divisions. 


Here a couple in the 11-15 years division are being judged for style.

Helium-filled balloons were popular. Some of them were very large depictions of animals or cartoon characters and they certainly added colour to the occasion. They frequently escaped and allowed the crowd to see the direction of the wind above the rooftops. So many flew off towards the troposphere that we wondered whether it was deliberate. Against that must be set the sight of parents determinedly lashing a balloon to their child's arm or buggy.

During the day we chatted with quite a few people. The locals were universally friendly and welcoming.

21 June was also the summer solstice, or longest day. The sun would not set that night for any observer North of the Arctic Circle. A summer joke in Inuvik is “I'll do it before sundown.” It is far enough North that the sun does not set for some weeks. We determined to see the midnight sun.

From Inuvik's longitude we could work out how long after midnight GMT was local, astronomical midnight. Due to the sometimes illogical Canadian time zones it was at 2:54 am by the clock. We set the alarm for 2:45 and went to sleep. Eve woke without the help of the alarm around 2:40, drew back the curtain and saw the sun low in the sky. Five minutes later clouds had obscured sol and Bill didn't see the sun. He and 2 or 3 others were prowling around the campground with cameras and cursing the weather.


It's midnight, and the sun is out there somewhere. At least it is obviously daylight and the sun's presence above the horizon can be deduced from that.

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