Being present in the community has taken many shapes for me over the course of my multiple field visits. In Gjoa Haven such presence has often taken shape around activities that are part of Inuit day to day life.

In the first week, when BearWatch researchers were present in Gjoa Haven in larger numbers, we for example helped George Konana take out his nets.

Pulling in the nets (photograph by author)

Pulling in the nets, close-up (photograph by author)

George Konana, cleaning some freshly caught Arctic Char

Stranding the Car

Most possibilities to get involved with chores around town and meeting people involved an old truck, the elements, and project-related logistics that had me drive across town for multiple purposes.

These activities created both possibilities and limitations in terms of community interaction patterns.

For example, the collective efforts required to pull the truck out of the ocean, when it stranded on the beach and got flooded by the rising tide of the ocean, is part of what co-Pi de Groot terms his “vulnerability narrative”. A performative display of intra-dependency he understands his relationship with the community at large to be comprised of.

Truck stranded in the ocean (photograph by author.)

Preparing and Packing for an ATV Ride

The environmental conditions in Inuit Nunangat seem initially a fitting context for such a vulnerability narrative.

Take, for example, going on a camping trip:

Any visiting researcher who has tried to prepare, pack or pull a qamutiq (sled) across the land outside of Arctic Summer for the first time, like I did in 2021, has likely encountered the particular teachings of patience and modesty.

Fumbling around with thick mitts, pens and paper, while knots need to be tied, and qamutiks need to be repaired, quickly eliminates the feasibility of (ethnographic) documenting. What remains, however, is attentive presence, and hands-on assistance.

Preparing the Qamutiq (photograph by author)

Repacking the Qamutiq on the way (photograph by author)

Camping at the Weir

After 4 hours of travelling by ATV, some of it in the dark, we arrive at the fishing Weir. After setting up the tents we watch George and his family spearfishing for a while.

The land itself seemingly invites one to move away from anthropocentric tellings - towards narrations of becoming knowledgeable in company with the seasons, snow, ice, wind, rocks, and caribou. Being in the presence of someone like George, however, makes it very clear that it takes the experience of multiple generations to live with the land. Just tagging along with someone like George for a couple of days allows you to learnt more than could ever be included in a knowledge-land-scape like this. These experiences furthermore are not transferable through writing or pictures. The knowledge that is entangled within the tradition of spearfishing for example extends its technique or it practices. Its entangled within a lived moment of human and fish meeting each other, that cannot be sustained outside of that moment. For this reason, you cannot possibly extract a meaningful insight from this invitation trail. But it does provide you with a vista, on the importance of land, when it comes to knowledge production in Inuit Nunangat.

Vista:The Land