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they
thought I was a lost relative returning home. Then we went
to meet the oldest man in the community. His name was
Nanuq. As we walked to his house, followed by a crowd of
kids, I asked Stephen why he was going to shoot the bear. He
shrugged his shoulders. “Why not? Polar bears are good
hunting. It was an easy shot.”
    â€œBut . . . why kill it? Do you need it for food?”
    â€œYes. It is good to eat. But also the polar bears scare the
seals away.”
    â€œDo you kill seals too?”
    â€œYes. Seals are very good hunting too.”
    â€œBut don’t you eat fish?”
    â€œAlso fish are good for eating. But fish every day is not so
good.”
    When we reached the house, the old man was sitting at
the door. He must have been watching us come. He was
ancient. His skin was wrinkled like a dried potato and his
hair was dry and straight like white straw. I had the feeling
that people here aged twice as fast as anywhere else. I wondered if that was true.
    The old man’s eyes were dark and shiny, like pools of deep
water. He stared at me, yet he seemed far away. I said hello.
He nodded his head up and down thoughtfully, then, very
slowly he said, “The sea . . . is dying.”
    â€œWhat?”
    He took a deep breath and said it again very slowly. “The
sea . . . is dying. If the sea dies, the world dies.”
    I looked at Stephen. He smiled.
    â€œWhy do you think the sea is dying?” I asked.
    Nanuq looked out the window. Then he looked back at
me. He did everything slowly. “No fish. No hares. No seals.
No wolves. No bears. No whales. No caribou.”
    I looked at Stephen. “Is that true? Are there no fish?”
    â€œThere are some. Not like before.”
    Nanuq shook his head. “No fish.”
    â€œWhat about seals? We have lots of seals in Newfoundland.”
    â€œNo seals.”
    â€œBut . . . we saw a polar bear today.”
    â€œNo bears.”
    â€œHe means, not like before,” said Stephen. “Now, the bears
are like ghosts. The wolves are like ghosts. The caribou are
like ghosts.”
    The old man seemed sure of what he was saying, but I did
not want to believe him. How could I? It was the worst thing
I had ever heard. How could the sea die? It couldn’t. It was
too big. It was too important. Maybe there were fewer whales
and fish and everything else but the sea couldn’t die. It just
couldn’t. And yet, something about the way the old man
said it really bothered me. He said it softly and slowly, as if
he really knew, not like he was trying to convince anyone;
more as if it were a secret he had heard on the wind or fromancient spirits or something like that. I wished Sheba had
heard him say it. Then she could tell me what she thought.
    After visiting Nanuq, we went to a hall and sat down for
a community dinner. I was served caribou meat with bannock and sweet tea. Bannock was a kind of fried bread that
was really good. The tea was delicious. The caribou meat
was delicious too but it kind of bothered me to eat it. I
wouldn’t kill a polar bear and I wouldn’t kill a caribou either.
But this was part of their way of life up here and they were
honouring me with this meal. I didn’t want to insult them
by refusing to eat what they ate. And so I ate it. Hollie ate it
too.
    Stephen asked me how long I was staying in Igloolik. A
month? I almost choked on my bread. I apologized and said
that I couldn’t stay at all. I had to sail through the Arctic before the ice came together again. This he understood. I was
glad. Then I asked him if he knew how far the ice reached
across the Arctic. He said the ice would be there until I
reached open water. I asked him how far that was. He said
far.
    After supper we walked back to the sub. I let Stephen
climb inside and look around. I figured that was okay because we never submerged or moved. We shook hands again
and I thanked him for the visit. He told me I was welcome to
stay with