By Raoul Bhaneja of Hamlet (solo) – Hope and Hell Theatre Co.
It was Thanksgiving Monday (Canadian) and as we touched down in Inuvik, two degrees north of the Arctic Circle, it was snowing. In fact it was the first “real” snowfall of the year, which I was told would stay till around late April or May.
I had learned on my first trip to The North in January, during a stop at The Yukon Arts Centre that the worst thing a “Southerner” like me could say (NOTE: as a half South Asian, half Irish kid born in the UK and raised in Ottawa and Bonn, Germany I have rarely ever been called a “Southerner”) was something along the lines of “Man, it’s cold here!” or “Wow, you people live like THIS?!”
However I think social faux pas was justified. For example, during that trip one of my shows had to be cancelled as it was TOO COLD to travel by car to Haines Junction. I was told that in the event of a vehicle breakdown at night I would DIE as the road is not regularly patrolled by the RCMP after sundown, particularly when the wind chill was hovering around minus 50 degrees centigrade. There was other evidence. I had to jumpstart the company van three times and the sliding doors at the hotel had frozen shut so we had to go out the back way. There was some satisfaction to all this for me as I was mocked on my arrival for having purchased a brand new ridiculously expensive Canadian made parka. I was told that as it was only minus 25 it was fully evident that I was indeed a yellow bellied, cowardly, ostentatious, “can’t take the real cold”, first rate “Southerner”!
Canada is funny that way, in that it holds many geographic surprises and wonders to the uninitiated. I remember many years ago, while spending my first night in Newfoundland preparing to shoot a movie, I was AMAZED to learn that someone was going to get up the next morning and drive to the “West Coast”. “WOW!” I declared “That would take forever, it must be at least five or six days to drive to Vancouver?” A pitying glance for a C.F.A (Come From Away) like myself was followed by a “Vancouver? No by’… Cornerbrook!”
As snow blew across the tarmac at Inuvik Airport, I looked over to my tour guide, tour manager, story teller and long time acquaintance from our time at The National Theatre School nearly twenty years prior, the Northern Arts and Culture Centre Artistic Director, Mr. Ben Nind. I knew our landing had been a bit treacherous as he had held his breath and closed his eyes on the landing. That scared me to no end as he was a hardened air traveller of the North, with stories of blizzard landings in the high Arctic that would make one want to cut up their Aeroplan membership card never board a plane again. Ben shared the anxiety that many of the North had to contend with in 2011. A series of deadly air tragedies had touched many personally, in particular those who have no other way to travel in and out of their communities but by air.
Thankfully we were now on terra firma and I quickly noticed that my worn walking shoes from Toronto were already slipping on the icy ground beneath my feet. Not wanting to come off looking like a total “Southerner” on this trip, I had opted to go for a bit of a cooler look with a leather jacket and NO winter boots. I marvel now at the biological fortitude or foolhardiness of my youth as I would proudly stand waiting for the OC Transpo bus to take me cross town to my high school in Ottawa in the dead chill of winter, well below minus 20 with NO toque and SOAKING wet (soon to be frozen) hair.
Inside the terminal I stood face to face with an enormous polar bear, towering over me, its full height over seven feet, ready to tear me to shreds. Fortunately it was a work of artful taxidermy and I had been prepped by my terminal walk thru at Norman Wells where I was greeted by a slightly more friendly Grizzly. After our snow covered bags (have I mentioned it was early October?!!!) Ben took me to the airport restaurant for what he described as the “best burgers in the North”. I was already quite full from the amazing Thanksgiving dinner I had attended the night before in Yellowknife, where I was brought, a complete stranger, to sit side by side with one of the legendary families of town. I enjoyed a home cooked turkey with a fascinating family who ranged in age from 18 months to eighty.
Ben was right, the burger was delicious. So what if I had started to over eat on this tour? I do Hamlet on my own. I burn calories! Also I needed to have insulation, an extra layer of fat if I was to survive the next week up here and from what I could see it cost about five bucks to buy an orange anyway.
We got into our hotel and after a few days on the road I was tired. Sit down, lie back on the hotel bed and prepare for tomorrows show in the hall of the local community centre…. that’s all I needed to do. Before my eyes could close, there was a knock at the door. It was Ben, standing in the hallway with his coat and baseball hat on.
Ben: We’re going.
Raoul: What? Where? We just got here-
Ben: Thanksgiving Dinner.
Raoul: What? Uh… we just ate at the airport, the hamburger-
Ben: You don’t need to tell them that.
Raoul: But-
Ben: They’re waiting for us. Let’s go.
Not ten minutes later I was standing in the warm kitchen a longtime resident of Inuvik, a nurse at the local health care centre who had laid out before me another TREMENDOUS spread of Thanksgiving goodness. Everyone there was ready to eat. They had been waiting. I swallowed hard and sat down as mounds of delicious (but indigestible ) turkey, stuffing, sprouts, potatoes, gravy, salad, roasted vegetables were put on my plate. I broke out into a sweat. A wave of nausea followed by a wave of panic over took me. Here I was, for the second day in a row, invited into the warmth of a complete strangers home, during the very significant feast of Thanksgiving and the last thing I wanted to do was throw up the North’s best hamburger all over my hosts and their close friends, as their esteemed “Southern” guest.
I looked at Ben, who merrily munched, too much of a pro to give anything away about the cheeseburger progressing thru his system. He gave me a look, the kind one needs in a moment like that, as if from an older sibling or kindly Uncle, or perhaps one that was given to the brave souls before they climbed out of the trenches at The Somme. It was a look that said “Steady… Steady on , man.”
I am thankful indeed that in that instant -it worked.
What followed was another remarkable evening of stories, laughter and for this touring artist the reminder that even on a Thanksgiving thousands of kilometers away from my wife and children, we are a nation of families with open arms, tables and hearts ready to share our homes, ideas and our experiences with each other. I’m looking forward to continuing that journey at Magnetic North 2012… But please… no turkey.
The Grizzly of Norman Wells Airport. Photo courtesy Raoul Bhaneja
Polar Bear of Inuvik Airport- WELCOME SOUTHERN COWARD!!!!!!! Photo courtesy Raoul Bhaneja
It’s Thanksgiving Monday in Inuvik! Photo courtesy Raoul Bhaneja
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