Penniless in the Arctic

Nuuk, Greenland. 1983.

I was the first worker to visit Greenland. Previously I worked in the southern part, but this is my first time in Nuuk, the capital.

I have no contacts here and no return ticket. Back in Denmark I purchased a round-trip ticket from Copenhagen to Sundre Stromford.

For a bit of fun I only brought enough money for a one-way ticket from there to Nuuk. I’m scheduled to be here for 10 days.

In the meantime Baba, you’ll have to create enough Margis to pay for my missing plane fare, and my daily expenses.

To add some spice to this brew, one of the Danes I met today said, “Good luck to you. It’s a rare Eskimo who’s mind is not lost in booze, dancing and motorcycles.”

The winter is harsh here. Half the flights usually get canceled due to bad weather. As I walk through the streets, I sometimes have to grab onto a tree to stop myself from being blown over.

It once took me 45 minutes to walk a distance which should have taken 15 minutes.

Coming back, I needed only 5 minutes — I was almost flying.

Even the women wear pants here, so I am doubly unique in my orange lungi, which billows in the wind like a full skirt.

I don’t know why I remain warm even while trudging through deep snow.

Nuuk is called “the big city”, though its population is a mere 10,000.

In total, Greenland has a population of about 50,000, of which 80% are Eskimos and 20% are Danes. By World War II the majority of Eskimos had converted from nomad-life to town-life, though not out of preference.

The shift was primarily to assist doctors who were facing difficulties trying to protect the people from diseases caused by “civilization”.

Since it is my policy not to stay in hotels while teaching meditation. Baba kindly arranged for me to “accidentally” meet a man who invited me to stay in his house.

One way or another, no matter where I am. He always provides a house for my stay. I began setting up lectures immediately.

Next day. While walking in the snowy streets, I was surrounded by a group of about 20 teenage boys. They were a rowdy bunch, itchmg for a fight. When they began pushing one another, it became clear that their real intention was to get around to pushing me. They were keen to test this strange man with a turban.

Later I came to know that it’s considered comical in Greenland whenever anyone falls down in the snow, especially if one gets hurt.

When they were just about to fling themselves into me, I had an inspiration.

“I say! Do any of you know a good song to sing?”

A few of them knew enough English to understand me, and they fell into a parley. Seconds later they burst into an Eskimo tune, complete with gesticulations.

That completed, I requested another song, and they complied with increasing enthusiasm.

Then they demanded a song from me so I regaled them with my latest frozen version of Baba Nam Kevalam. I made them sing it together with me, and soon we became fast friends.

By evening, word had gone around about that fine Dada fellow.

Coldest cold

Last night I had to perform my kapalika meditation. The only graveyard is dead-center in the middle of the town, flooded by electric light, so I opted instead for a tiny dark peninsula where long ago the people used to bring sick babies who would be left in the cold for some hours.

If they survived, they were considered strong enough to deserve care. If they died, that proved they were better off dead.

Before beginning meditation I already felt chilled to the bone due to the freezing breeze. The wind was so strong that it tore off my lungi, which I had to dive to catch.

Before I could grab it, the sea almost claimed it, and in the process I slipped on the ice just on the edge of the water, a dark mass of heaving waves.

In the last moment, my foot caught on a jutting piece of ice, stopping my fall. I slowly edged my way backward a few feet, and arranged for my meditation without benefit of cover or blanket.

After a minute or two I no longer noticed the intense cold. Indifference to temperature is a common experience for those practicing kapalika meditation.

Thirty minutes later, when I had finished, I again became aware of my body, which began shivering so strongly that I could not hold my equipment. Hardly able to stand, I dragged myself toward a nearby house especially arranged for my stay on this night.

After crossing the threshold, I laid thawing out on the floor about 10 minutes, before moving toward my room.

The next morning I was fine. No matter what difficulties I face during meditation, I never seem to fall sick.

We had group meditation this evening. Because no one moved even slightly, and because there was heavy snow around the house, we experienced complete soundlessness. Impressive, especially considering it was their first such meeting.

Nothing unlikely

During my previous visit to southern Greenland a good number of people learned meditation. I didn’t think to contact any of them, however, because the only way to travel between cities in winter is by plane.

Yesterday, my first initiate down there had a strong thought of me and Baba. On the strength of that feeling alone, she flew here hoping to find me.

When she saw me today, she was just as surprised as anyone else that her intuition had been correct.

They say for the devotee nothing is impossible, or even unlikely.

Faith and fortune

A unit committee was formed tonight, selected from among the 40 Margis who have learned meditation in the nine days since I’ve been here. The prediction about Eskimos lacking interest in meditation was wrong. About 80% of these new Margis are Eskimos, exactly reflecting their proportion in society.

I spoke to the most inspired sister, “I don’t have money for my return fare to Sundre Stromford. And I have to leave tomorrow evening.”

“Dada!” she said. “What are you going to do?”

“No, no,” I laughed. “That’s my question to you.”

“But I’m just a student…”

“Can I see your tongue?”

She stuck it out.

“It looks like a healthy tongue. Perhaps it will be of some use in asking the other Margis for help. But don’t press them. They should only give according to their feelings.”

She flashed a big smile and immediately left the room.

Next day. That sister ran up to me late this morning, saying. “Dada, look! We collected half of your ticket money! Here, please take it.”

“Thanks. Just see how Baba helps.”

“Yes…. Now what are you going to do to get the rest?”

I laughed and said, “Again, that’s my question to you.”

“But… I already asked everyone for money.”

“Well, how about going back to them, and asking for ideas how to get the rest?”

“But the airlines office closes in just 4 hours.”

“If you do your best, Baba will arrange everything. And remember, no pressure!” I said.

When at last she proudly presented the necessary amount for my ticket, we only had time to run to the airline office and slip in the door as it was about to be locked.