How a Lost Buoy Brought Me Home – The Walrus

A flight to Greenland, a summer festival, and a remarkable coincidence showed me what the future of Inuit could look like

“Nunaqatiga takuuk!” Ceporah called up the hillside to me. Neighbour, look! The two of us have been cabin neighbours for more than a decade; this past September, we went out on a berry-picking expedition about twenty-five kilometres from Iqaluit. I was obsessed with picking the ruby-red lingonberries bejewelling the land behind our cabins, while she had decided to comb the beach below us. Ceporah held up a bright-orange oblong buoy—the kind we use as fenders for our boats.

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