'Did you say a circus?'

I'd had pretty much the same reaction when I first heard about a circus based in Igloolik, which doesn't even have an ambulance. It was started by Guillaume Saladin, now 36; he'd spent his summers here as a boy with his father, Bernard Saladin, an anthropologist studying Shamanism ,which was practiced here before Christianity came. Guillaume returned for a summer when he was 24 and reconnected with old friends, helping to launch a program for youth that combined acting and video. While he was there, two of his old friends committed suicide. “That was a big blast of pain for all of us,” he said.

Returning to Montreal, a chance encounter with a circus performer inspired him to sign up for the National Circus School, and when he graduated, he joined a Quebec-based circus, Cirque Eloize. But his heart was still in Igloolik. Every summer he came back here, this time bringing his circus buddies to run circus workshops and engage the young people who didn't have a lot to keep them busy or a sense that they had much of a productive future. In Guillaume's mind, suicide was a byproduct of this sense of hopelessness.

Eventually Artcirq was born, a hybrid of a performing arts troupe. Guillaume moved back here permanently four years ago. The number of performers is fluid having to do, in part, with who can attend rehearsals, who's doing well in school, how many of the girls are pregnant. (Igloolik has a high rate of pregnancy among girls and one of the fastest-growing populations in Nunavut.) But there's a distinctly Inuit flavor to it. They do juggling and acrobatics and other expectable circus arts, and also integrate elements of traditional Inuit arts, such as drum-dancing, and throat-singing. Also, traditional Inuit games, many of which were borne out of the challenges of living up north where there are three months of winter darkness and freezing temperatures. A lot of these games, such as one-foot high-kicking, involve extreme agility, endurance and strength, all essential for survival on the land.

Right from the start, Guillaume had big dreams for this circus – to travel the world and celebrate Inuit culture. Many of the performers had never left Nunavut before, but he's doggedly done fund-raising to take them, literally, to Timbuktu, Mexico, and Greece, among other places, where they've performed and led workshops, often with other indigenous performers. The circus is beloved in Igloolik: In one high school English classroom, we saw a lesson on the board in which the kids suggested “Bad Examples” of behavior and “Good Examples.” Bad ones included “Taking Drugs” and “Silent Wars.” Good ones included: “Inuit games” and “Artcirq.” On the other hand, we also spent time with a large extended family (including the oldest person in Igloolik, a woman who is roughly 105) and as some of the elders sat around and talked, one said through a translator she thought Artcirq's show was too white.

Artcirq faces large ongoing challenges. Funding is a constant battle. Their current practice space is a small, low-ceilinged freezing cold room inside Igloolik's hockey arena. The only costume they have is a polar bear skin – the product of a near-death encounter with a bear that nearly knocked over Guillaume's tent on a hunting trip with friends. One 18-year girl in the circus has a small child and is pregnant.

Only six of the members, including Guillaume, will be going, and they'll be part of a half-hour performance ensemble on Feb. 21 with 14 northern performers, prior to the awarding of Olympic medals. (Until Wednesday, there was one more performer, a 14-year-old boy, but he was shipped home because he resourcefully managed to find alcohol in Iqaluit, and got drunk.)

Michele and I returned to Iqaluit and watched them rehearse yesterday. One of the things that struck me was how many outside influences are reflected in their show. There's a lively gig, a legacy of the Scottish whalers. There's a lot that's traditional, of course – the pair of throat-singers, an acrobatic performance of a seal-hunting excursion.

And then there are the hiphop performers. Nunavut is very big on hiphop: The Blue Print for Life organization runs “Social Work Through Hiphop,” throughout the north, which uses hiphop with at-risk youth to “empower them with a sense of control and hope in their lives.” Though this may not be what they intended, it also as it happens blends nicely with the Raven Hop and drum dancing.

Posted by Linda Matchan, Globe staff
Photo by Michele McDonald
This project was supported by a travel grant from the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting.
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