Functional weekend Inuktitut

Mumilaaqtunga liijami!

I'm going to dance at the Legion!

Army of Darkness: joke's on you

If my editor is reading, no, I didn't really put up this poster.

The one we're posting is much sweeter - as is the knowledge we don't have to deal with the Army on our own today.

Inside the visitors centre

Truck tales

Today Ol' Bluey and I got stuck in the snow, probably due to the fact that four wheel drive spontaneously stopped working this week.

A guy in a snow plow came up behind me, gesturing wildly. I thought he was giving me a hard time for being in the way, so I opened the door and said, "Dude, I'm sorry, but it's just not happening."

"I know. Turn your wheel and sit tight," he answered, and then pushed me out using the plow blade. Maybe this is a common occurrence, but as a newbie driver it blew my mind.

Later, while attempting a very moderate hill, I started sliding backwards. At this point I decided to park back at the office and take a cab.

Crazy lineup

Folks waited in line forever today to get into the Christmas craft fair. This guy was enterprising - he left his indoor booth to sell bannock to the impatient crowd.

Homelessness report

From the recently released pan-territorial report on homelessness amongst women:

"Fast relationships just to get out. I've gone back to abuse just to have a home and I'm sure lots of women are in the same situation."

Through case studies and interviews, this report argues that the lack of adequate housing in Nunavut is contributing to crisis levels of homelessness amongst northern women.

In Toronto the problem is glaringly obvious; the homeless are sleeping on vents, sprawled on steps. Here it is hidden - there is no sleeping outside. The homeless are more often couch surfing. There is an estimated 100-150 homeless women in the capital city alone, and no homeless shelter.

So where do many go?

"You can always turn to men. They will always give a place to sleep for sex."

There are six safe shelters in the territory for women fleeing abuse. The local one had a waiting list this year.

Last night I had an experience that made my knees shake and illustrated in three dimensions a lot the research I did on the subject this week. Bob Izumi Jr. wrote about it here, so I won't get into it.

I wanted to be a reporter because I thought if I worked hard I would eventually be able to make things better. As of this week I am officially considering the following things:

a) Maybe I'm not talented enough to have an impact.
b) Maybe I just don't have the time to research and write the stories I really want to write.

And my family will kill me for saying this, but...

c) Maybe I should go back to school again for something that has a little more impact. Or maybe I should just go dig wells someplace.

Once I reevaluate my career goals and conscience I will duly report on it. In the meantime, please take a look at the document itself, commissioned by a coalition of women's groups and the YWCA. If it doesn't download properly, let me know.

Dirty ol' birds

Happy endings

I love it when stories have a happy ending. Here's one from CBC about a missing trio from Hall Beach - two in their sixties, one just four years old - who were found after several days of searching.

One of the adults walked to Iglulik for help, while the other two "apparently stayed in an igloo."

Smiles all around on a Friday afternoon.

Dark

A pile of work remains untouched on the coffee table, and yet another John Cusack movie plays on VHS. My arm aches from a stupid flu shot.

I think this is the dreaded depression that everybody has been warning me about.

Uhhh. Maybe not. I don't know. Clear as dark, as a Grise Fiord contact quipped today. And it sure is dark a lot.

John Cusack has been displaced by Kevin Kline now. De-Lovely. Musicians. So maddening. Occasionally charming.

City slumber

City Council ran for three hours tonight.

Three hours.

At one point, an unnamed councillor admitted on a SECOND reading of a bylaw that he had yet to read it through, and needed an explanation. This required two people and maybe 15 minutes to rectify.

The entire item, including a one-page chart and one page for signatures, was only five pages long.

So I have nothing left in me to write tonight.

Kate Nova and the great global takedown

Yesterday, in the interest of my mental health, I dedicated six hours to the pursuit of global domination.

South America was the first to fall to my military might, with North America quick on its heels. I was generally concerned about the fact that Baffin Island and Newfoundland had both ceased to exist, but there is no time to dwell on these things in times of war.

And so, through a series of tenuous treaties and hard-fought battles, I managed to vanquish most of my enemies except the last. With this, the green army, I secured a peaceable agreement to split the world in half and stand down our men. By this time it was midnight, and two of the five generals had fallen asleep.

Even war can be civilized. Just don't trust Calgarians in a game of Risk - they will stab you in the back.

photo courtesy of baffinblog

Remembrance Day

Kurling

On a manic weekday I embarked on a quest to partake in the people's sport of Canada: curling.

My knees are the colour of overripe plums because I couldn't stand for sliding, but I persevered and even made one respectable shot by the end.

Townie Bastard, Curtiz and the Stephenator were generous with their curling cues. Things like: 'lean on the broom like an old person,' and 'wear pants that move.'

Somehow I had always associated curling with bowling, and because bowling is associated with beer I thought it was a low key athletic pursuit.

I am here to tell you I was wrong.

There's a big difference between bowling and curling: ice. I would never attempt to coordinate my limbs on that ice with even an ounce of beer in me. That would surely be the end.

Blog-tastic encounters

When it rains it pours, and things have been pretty soggy of late. I therefore have been negligent about my little cyberspace.

Last night, however, I had a giggle over a spontaneous confluence of local bloggers. North of Nain introduced herself to me at the music society's coffeehouse, which was great because I had absolutely no idea it was she behind that site.

There were also some blogger-performers: John Mutford of the Book Mine Set gave us a great reading of his poetry and Baffinblog regaled us with some country tunes.

And a few days previous, I had the good luck to receive some curling pointers from the zen master of curling Townie Bastard. More about that above.

Nain suggested we have an Iqaluit blogger coffee date sometime soon, and I think it's a great idea.

End of day

Kate Nova has a serious moment

I've gotten a number of bewildered emails from back home, wondering what is going on, and how something like the shooting in Kimmirut could have happened.

My heart goes out to the Const. Douglas Scott's family, and family of RCMP across Canada whose personal nightmares are being broadcast with each news story about the situation.

This is an inspiring and crushing place to work.

I researched a story last week and learned that roughly half of this territories mental health positions are currently not staffed. This in communities plagued by suicide, violence, depression, and poverty. (I understand this to be because of issues attracting and retaining workers to the north, and because not enough local, trained people are in place yet.)

I call schools for a good news story about their students, and am told no one can talk to me because of "another suicide" in the community. (For the record, we do not report on suicides.)

I attended a meeting tonight, and learned that this year was the first in which the local women's shelter resorted to a waiting list. It still is scraping along with no new funding from the federal or territorial government. Everyone damned the feds for allotting their $56-million in shelter funding to on-reserve facilities only, but months later not a whisper has materialized to demonstrate they will work to correct this.

On the other hand, I have chatted with some of the most amazing, strongest characters of my life in the past six months. People who really want to take on all the challenges of their communities and make things right, and are patient enough to see it through. Because it's going to take a long time, and this is a very young territory with a daunting history of neglect and obstacles to overcome.

But, as was drilled in my head so many times in j-school, no one cares what the news reporters think, so I will return, shortly, to my regular programming of light, self-deprecating, and hopefully amusing posts about nothing.

-30-

Why I'll never be a sports photographer

Out of 60-odd action shots from this weekend's soccer tournament, these were the best.

Sad really, how I couldn't seem to get the combination of feet and heads happening at the same time. My camera froze and flashed the words "busy" every time I depressed the shutter, and I couldn't figure out the proper setting for the flash to make it happy. This allowed the subjects to move closer, faster than my brain/lens could back up.

Oh well, at least I can handle group portraits.

Bitter torment

I overdosed on Halloween and lost my will to blog for a while there.

I'm also being driven to distraction by a new, terrible development in my domestic life: the neighbours bought a karaoke machine.

For two nights running, they and all their heavy-footed friends have regaled each other upstairs with out of tune renditions of the entire 90s dance mix collection.

I'm not sure how to cope, short of spending all my time and money at the bar.