Last update - 00:00 31/08/2007
Scientists see in Greenland's melting ice a harbinger of things to come
By Assaf Uni
ILIMANAK, Greenland - Arna Langa, a 39-year-old Inuit fisherman, still remembers the last time the sea around his village froze over, some 10 years ago. Global warming is changing all aspects of life in Langa's village and all over his homeland.
"In the past, we would ride the dogsled westward for miles across the frozen sea to fish for halibut through the snow," Langa recalled. "Five years ago, we started seeing cod again - fish that prefer relatively warm water. The soil under the houses has defrosted. Flowers bloom earlier in the year and the sea has lots more little chunks of ice than before."
As Langa and other local people observe with each passing day, Greenland is warming up. The average air temperature has risen by four degrees Celsius over the past decade. The water temperature has climbed by two degrees.
Scientists believe that Greenland, with a population of some 50,000, is an accurate thermometer of global warming. If this is true, then the developments its residents are now witnessing are alarming news for the entire world.
As Langa spoke, gigantic icebergs floated down the river behind him. This river produces more icebergs than any other river in the northern hemisphere. It flows down to the sea from Greenland's ice cap. The fjord into which it empties produced the iceberg that sank the Titanic.
For his livelihood, Langa hunts seals. He goes hunting with his youngest child. As they leave the village, home to a population of 85, they can see the calm waters of the bay below. Some of the village's wooden houses fly the Danish flag from the roof.
Langa's life is typical of the change that has visited the island's Inuit inhabitants in recent years: Over the course of his life, he has worked as a fisherman, hunter, generator operator and firefighter. Five years ago, he began making his living from tourism.
Greenland has been seeing more and more tourists recently. Some of them come to observe the effects of global warming. At least 300 tourists, Langa said, have dined with his wife and four children on whale flesh and seal steaks since Langa began offering room and board to visitors.
Fishing and hunting dictate Langa's schedule. Last week, he helped carve up a whale carcass at a nearby village. Next month, he will venture inland to hunt for reindeer. He fishes at night, when the sled dogs eat.
At sea, with his five-year-old son Anut aboard his fishing dingy, Langa has to be very alert. Should one of the icebergs capsize as Langa sails by, he and his son might be hurled overboard. "You couldn't survive more than a couple of minutes in these waters," Langa said.
Langa's quarry are ringed seals. "The life of the Inuits here revolve around the seals. We need them for sustenance." An adult weighs 30 to 90 kilograms and yields 5 to 10 kilograms of meat. The other parts are used to feed the dogs. The hide is sold to the national tannery for approximately $100 per animal. Prices used to be higher, Langa said, before anti-fur campaigns brought down the demand.
The fjord, however, is off limits, due to global warming. "Even when the ice does freeze over, it's not safe to travel. If we take the dogsled there, the ice might crack and we could end up dead," Langa said. And he would know: Three years ago, several fisherman died in just such an accident.
"I don't want him to grow up to be a fisherman or hunter," Langa said of his son, who was expressing a very clear desire to go back home and leave the cold, windswept patch of ice on which they were standing. "He should go to university and get an education." He bent over and rubbed his nose against his son's. An Eskimo kiss. The boy smiled. But the hunting did not go well, and they returned empty-handed.
Before going back to the house, Langa placed leftover slabs of seal meat on an improvised pan and lit a fire. The fire consumed green ferns that had to be added constantly. They are the only endemic burning material, since Greenland has no trees to speak of.
On the way back, we stopped to fish for cod, the one solace that has accompanied the more ruinous effects of global warming. Tourists are another form of compensation, because they, too, are drawn to Greenland by the phenomenon, albeit for different reasons. "Tourists are easier to catch," Langa joked.
Contrary to rumor, the Inuits in Greenland do not have 100 words for ice. But they do have dozens of expressions to describe its condition. Shiku-ak designates thin sheets that float on the surface in autumn. Iluliak means a large iceberg. Kashuk describes a translucent crust. There are special combinations of words for fresh ice and bright ice.
One expression, however, has in recent years become increasingly recurrent: shiku-atok, meaning "melting ice."