Greenland, not for the taking
Manumina Jensen points to a sea eagle circling above us. “Inuit believe that eagles bring good luck,” she says. “Especially when they come close.” The solitary bird doesn’t seem to be coming any nearer. “Do they bring bad luck when they stay away?” The question is lost in the wind. It is bitterly cold up here. The mountains around Nuuk form a frozen wilderness, complete desolation. I want to ask something about Donald Trump and his plans to annex Greenland, but Jensen is already walking on through the snow. “Are you coming?”
We were supposed to conduct the interview at the university. Jensen is working on a PhD about the relationship between Inuit and their sled dogs. With passion, she talks about the migration of her distant ancestors. They came from northern Siberia, across the glaciers, to Alaska. With sleds, kayaks, and larger umiaks, they eventually reached Greenland. But Jensen prefers talking while walking rather than sitting among books, so we trudge through Paradise Valley just outside Nuuk. I can’t take notes, can’t record anything, barely ask questions. Only listen.
They are short stories, like pieces of a puzzle. Jensen talks about a recent encounter with an Arctic fox dancing in the snow. About her mother, who loves books and was never meant to be a hunter’s wife. She says she finds the eyelashes of reindeer beautiful. “I always ask my husband not to hunt the calves and their mothers.” And she tells me about Lars Møller, her great-great-grandfather. As editor-in-chief of Atuagagdliutit, Greenland’s first newspaper, he helped foster a sense of national identity between 1873 and 1922.
Sometimes she stops abruptly, on a slope or by a rock. “It’s important to look around,” she says.
I obey and look. In a few weeks, the snow here will melt and the rocks and lichens will become visible again. But for now, we are still alone amid the whiteness. It almost feels as though you could escape the world here. Almost.
From the fjord comes the hum of a propeller plane. Jensen squints. “Can you see what color it is?” A loaded question these days. Red is the familiar color of Air Greenland — planes that bring tourists, exchange, and peace. Gray is the color of the U.S. military. Last week, two Hercules transport aircraft landed in Nuuk. Armored vehicles rolled out of their bellies, meant for the visit of Vice President J.D. Vance. “That felt unreal,” Jensen says. “We’ve never had an American vice president visit before. And certainly not under these circumstances. We can no longer look at the sky without worry.”
She glances at my thin leather jacket. “Come on, we’d better head back. The clouds are closing in — it’ll get much colder soon. When the weather turns, you can get into trouble up here.”
READ ON (Dutch, paywall): https://www.standaard.be/buitenland/groenland-van-het-einde-van-de-wereld-naar-het-middelpunt-ervan-weet-trump-dan-niet-dat-wij-hier-allemaal-een-geweer-hebben/60336935.html