A clash of cultures?

Warning: this post may contain images that might cause distress amongst animal lovers and devotees of Fox's Glacier Mints

It is not without a sense of irony that as I write a post about the school's culture day, Jacob and I are currently watching 'Family Jewels with Gene Simmons' on TV, having earlier sat through 'Sober House with Dr Drew.' There's more culture on the mouldy piece of cheese in my fridge than in either of those programmes. They're not shows that either of us would normally watch, but neither of us could be bothered to reach for the remote so, consequently, we were sucked into the sad , lonely and sometimes grotesque lives of others for the best part of two hours. Come to think of it, that pretty much sums up your experience when reading this blog...

But I digest.

As I was saying before I interrupted myself, it was culture day at the school today, the one day in the year that's set aside to celebrate the traditional ways of life in a Northern town. I always enjoy days like this, but I'm not sure how I view the fact that just one day is devoted to celebrating and promoting a culture that is being swamped and overrun by southern mores...I'll leave you to decide your own opinion on that one. I think that's a debate for another time.

Culture day here was very different to the one I experienced in Inukjuak. Here, all the action took place outside, and after two or three hours of milling around everyone had gone their separate ways. In that time though we were able to examine an igloo that had been built by Mark Tertiluk, the centre director at the school, and a second igloo was constructed during the course of the morning. Many of the children - and some of the staff - went sliding, either on plastic sleds, their bottoms or even on sealskins (or any combination of the three), there was some impromptu throat singing and, of course, there was the requisite smörgåsbord of country food, Arctic Char and walrus on this occasion.

If indeed these are to be my final couple of weeks in the North then I guess this will be the last time I get to experience Inuit culture in such a way, and I feel privileged to have the chance to be involved in such an intimate way. I only hope that the incessant march of western 'culture', Gene Simmons, Dr Drew and all, doesn't mean that future generations, both Inuit and quallunaat alike, are denied that chance.

I Am The Walrus

WARNING - This post contains pictures that those of you with sensitive stomachs may find distressing, and I don't just mean the photos of yours truly.

The return of a successful hunter has always been a time for celebration in the Inuit culture, and in modern times this is still the case, as illustrated by the return of the good ship Kakivak today with its haul of walrus for the community. Seal is the staple marine based catch of substance in the North but walrus, although not the meat of choice for many, makes for a nice change, according to one of my Inuit friends.

The harbour was already busy when we arrived, and the walrus meat was flying off the metaphorical shelves just as fast as the carcasses could be unloaded from the boat. Despite the flurry of activity, there is a distinct sense of order about these occasions, which is just as well considering the proliferation of knives, ulus and cleavers on display. The meat is shared, everyone takes what they need, and the atmosphere is one of controlled excitement.

Many of the locals can't wait until they get home to eat their bounty - like when you'd been allowed to buy a new toy and you just had to play with it in the car on the way home, even though you'd been told not to because if you opened the box when the car went over a bump in the road you'd lose bits down behind the seats and get all upset - so much of the meat is consumed, raw, on site. Inuit sushi, if you will.

Gordon Ramsay, eat your heart out! (especially since someone's probably already eaten the heart out of the walrus). In all truth though, nothing is wasted, and maybe before the school term ends in May I might be able to sample the delicacy that is igunaq - fermented rotten frozen walrus. They bury these huge steaks in summer, when they start to rot, and they freeze in winter. You eat them a year later. Hmmmmm...fermented walrus.

So, a very interesting day all told. It's not often you get to eat out up here, and whilst the menu was somewhat limited, at least the ingredients were fresh. And you certainly didn't want to get on the wrong side of the chef:

He is the eggman. Goo goo g'joob.