Although we are a small community of 450 people we do not lack very many things. There are two grocery stores here and most catalogues offer COD. We also have internet, cable, satellite and any other entertainment (save a movie theatre, bar, or dance hall... shoot we dont even have a restaraunt... who am I kidding?) that you could conceive of having in your home. We even have our own radio station!!
This particular radio station plays an encredible amount of Canadian content that tends towards the older lighter of the Canadian artists. The station also has one special feature that sets it apart from any other radio programming that I have ever encountered: it has a direct-to-air phoneline. Sure, in the south you can call into the radio station, talk to the DJ and get your request or comment aired BUT there is ALWAYS a delay from the time you speak to the time it is aired and there is ALWAYS a DJ to monitor the content. This is a CYA (cover your ass) approach that radio stations use to ensure that only preapproved positions, comments, and material makes it onair. It wouldn't be conducive to loyal fanship or solid sponsorship for a conservative station to be broadcasting radical messages. That being said there is no such delay on the radio station here in Qik... there isn't even a DJ.
For the most part though the lunch hour consists of consecutive birthday wishes and choppy old Canadiana. "Happy Birthday! happy birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!"-- insert one verse of a Gordon Lightfood classic here -- "Happy Birthday! happy birthday!!! HAPPYBIRTHDAY" --30 seconds worth of Neil Young here -- "Happy Birthday!!!" and so on... and so on. There are also promotions and community announcements. I have come to understand that everyone has the radio on at all times because EVERYTHING including gossip makes it onto the air.
A couple of weeks ago the lack of delay or DJ became very apparent. Just before I arrived in this community one of the worst culprits for domestic violence was injured at work and had to be air lifted out to Iqaluit. I was sitting in the office enjoying my lunch and listening to the radio when a song was interrupted by a man yelling on the radio. This yelling went on for about ten minutes. Within that time one of the Inuit staff had returned and I asked her to translate. For all I knew it could have been an important news update. She listened intently for about 30 seconds and started laughing. It was the wife-beater calling in from his hospital bed in Iqaluit warning all of the men to stay away from his woman. He consistently calls alternately shouting and crying for about 10 minutes daily.
There are a great deal of uncensored bits of human emotion that make it onto the radio of which I have not yet become accustomed to. For example, I was standing in the Co-op Store on Tuesday doing a bit of "banking" (something I will discuss in a later post) when I heard a woman uncontrollably sobbing on the radio. The line up took about 20 minutes and she sobbed the entire time. I asked what was going on when I got to the teller and she explained that it was a woman from Pangnirtung that was upset.
The community rabble rousers also use the radio as an outlet to conjure up public outcry. Sara, the mother of my student DJ has used the radio for just this reason. She has a daughter in my housemate's grade 6/7 class. The daughter is your typical pretty, dramatic, ego centric preteen girl. She went home one day last semester saying that she hated her teacher because she was unfair. The mother went on an anti-Kullenuk (white person) radio campaign calling for the resignation of my roommate. The school community, knowing how unwarrented her radio escapades were, supported my roommate. The entire issue has since blown over with Sara looking like a jerk and my housemate coming out on top with her community involvement and overall great work with the kids.
Had you asked me previously I would have been all for uncensored radio. If you ask me now, I would say that radio censorship is entirely necessary and we are better for having it... you would say so too after listening to a woman weep for a solid hour.
j
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