excerpt
She gazed at him with sparkling eyes and a smile that split her
deeply wrinkled face. “Very beautiful,” she declared. “Like you.”
He laughed, “Thank you, but I’ve never considered myself beautiful.”
“Very beautiful,” she said. “Very beautiful.”
Stepping outside the tent, she ordered a big feast. Watching her, his
memories of his life in the Arctic flooded back – how powerful the grandmothers
were! She orchestrated the festivities without a word. A raised
eyebrow was a good sign. A crinkled nose sent a signal that something
was not right. Watching her quiet power, Ken wondered what would happen
when Nunavut was formed. How would these people ever communicate
with the people from the south?
By contrast, Egidio and Roberto were arguing stridently with Franco,
who had told Ken he would follow him. Once again, as if by magic, he had
arrived on the scene some days ago with his camera; and the arguments
between him and Roberto had escalated to operatic proportions.
When the feast was well under way, a float plane arrived from Rankin
Inlet carrying a couple of the bosses who nodded pleasantly at everyone
and wandered around the fringes, watching and listening. Another Twin
Otter followed, landed on the island in the bay and disgorged a small,
wiry man named Jim Erickson, who was the head of tourism for Bob
Engels’ company, North West Territorial Airways. When he smiled, his
mouth stretched so wide it threatened to slide off his face in both directions.
Thanks to Roxy, he’d heard about the party and had flown in to meet
Ken. They took a short walk. What was he doing here? Jim asked. Was he
helping Keith attract tourists to his lodge? Was he involved in politics?
What was his agenda? Ken explained, for what seemed like the hundredth
time, that his only agenda was to tell people about the North. “I’m not
here speaking on behalf of anybody,” he said. “I’m not some kind of Lawrence
of Arabia wandering in the desert.”
“Well you look the part,” Jim said. “And you behave like it.”
“I don’t want that kind of story out there,” Ken said.
Jim laughed. “It’s already out.” He knew that Ken had had conversations
with Keith about attracting tourists, he said. What were his thoughts?
Ken outlined his ideas. First, they had to find a cheaper way to get
Canadians to come to the Arctic. Who was going to spend ten or fifteen
thousand dollars for two weeks in the frozen North? They would come,
but only if there was a compelling reason – and that reason had to do
with stories. He told him about his painting for the Yellowknife Airport
The giant Inukshuk in the painting was the symbol of the North, he explained,
as powerful as Stonehenge, the pyramids, and the mysterious
stone faces on Easter Island – people would travel for something iconic.
Forget the polar bears, Ken said. There were no polar bears on the tundra…
Libros Libertad 