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Sunday 05.02.2012

Alaska meets Greenland

Mary Hiratsuka discovers Inuit culture reaches far beyond national boundaries.

How happy I was to be awake for the descent. The pilot made the most of the clear, beautiful day, taking us swerving over the strikingly, treeless terrain. Angular hills of rock, covered with what appeared to be a green moss, evoking memories of Iceland, or what I’d imagine Iceland to look like months after the harsh winter snow of March has melted away.

Disoriented from the past month of traveling, I mindlessly de-board the plane and follow a smaller group of strangers onto the tarmac and into what I thought would be another generic terminal: Duty free to the left, Starbucks at the right, bathrooms soon to follow. But soon after I passed though ‘security’, a metal detector door frame, I found myself in a familiar environment.


The tiny airport and its isolated location conjured images of arriving home. I gaze into the faces of familiar-looking strangers; flat with lovely, round cheeks and button noses covered in darker complexions and easy smiles.

They provided a more welcoming atmosphere than the sea of Scandinavian blondes I had been wading through less than eight hours before. For once on my travels, I am at ease and I looked like a local. A group of elderly Inuit people was enjoying each other’s company. Their tongues reeled on in a language similar to one my Grandparents used to speak while playing pinochle with friends. I recognize the glottal stops in the language, the attentive head nods and raised eyebrows, eyes widening in agreement. The undercurrent was one of warmth and respect.

It’s sunny, and even though I was in Greenland, I feel as though I could be at any rural airport in Alaska. I sense a couple of teenaged girls sizing me up, questioning my ethnicity. The wondering halted when I open my mouth to pay for a pack of chewing gum and I am unable to respond in Greenlandic or Danish. A sudden confused interest washed over the sales person and the girls.. I’m sure the exchange is as unexpected for them as it is surreal for me.

In mid-January of 2007, the Hood Museum of Art, Dartmouth, had an exhibit titled “Thin Ice: Inuit Traditions Within a Changing Environment.” The museum joined with the John Sloan Dickey Center for International Understanding and the College’s Institute of Arctic Studies in the creation of the first comprehensive exhibition of Dartmouth’s Arctic collections.

It just so happened that I attended the opening of the exhibit to hear and fortunately meet Mr. Aqqaluk Lynge, President of the Inuit Circumpolar Council, Greenland. Little did I know, the Yupiit of Southwest Alaska and Siberia, in addition to the Inupiat, are considered Inuit within the same cultural and linguistic family as the Inuit of northern Canada and Greenland. It was this chance acquaintance that inspired me to pursue research about Inuit issues within ICC.

My first idea was to look at the systems of education that institutionalized Greenlandic, also known as Kalaallisut or Inuit, such presence in Greenlandic culture. Upon learning about the systems in place in Nuuk, my hope was to write up a concise report of my findings to share with people in Dillingham who are interested in pursuing a more systematic approach to teaching Yup’ik. I soon came to realize that the problem wasn’t a lack of a system, but rather a lack of an interest.

My parents had informed me of a commentary in the Bristol Bay Times (“Maoris offer clues on how to revive Yup’ik language,” April 5) by Esther Ilutsuk that focused on Maori language revitalization. I contacted Esther and learned of Dillingham’s Yup’ik Literacy Steering Committee and its efforts to create an interest in Yup’ik language revitalization. This piece of knowledge was the deciding factor: my time in Greenland would be best spent learning how and why people continue to speak their traditional language in addition to Danish and English.

MORE FROM MARY HIRATSUKA NEXT WEEK IN SIKU NEWS