We sailed into a small settlement on a calm day, two of us motoring in an open boat. I leaned over the side, staring deep into the clear, frigid water. As the sea bottom shallowed and came into view, my heartbeat quickened at the sight of ghostly white limbs, sharpening into focus, drawing toward me. Then I realised they were whales bones. Jaws. Ribs.
Whale hunting has always been, and remains, a part of life in Greenland. Whales are a food source and a delicacy. The meat is rich and dark. Mattak – the skin of the whale – is a favourite. Tough and fatty, it is cut into small pieces and chewed and chewed until it becomes soft, releasing the flavour and the fat. It is ideal for cold climates where fatty foods were, historically, hard to find.
Today, whale hunting is still an important cultural food source, particularly in remote regions. And if you want to debate it’s merits with your average Greenlander, be prepared for a ‘robust discussion’. Whaling is allowed through a licencing system, available only to Greenlandic hunters. Quotas are determined by the International Whaling Commission and are informed by population studies by the Greenland Institute of Natural Resources. For example, in West Greenland, the current annual quota is two bowhead, ten humpback, nineteen fin, and 164 minke whales,
These days hunting takes place side-by-side with tourism. It is not unheard of for tourists on boats near Nuuk to be on whale ‘shoots’, while nearby harpoon boats are ready to actually shoot them. It seems like a problem, but who’s to say it is? This is reality in Greenland. Shouldn’t tourism reflect that?
