Like many others in Gjoa Haven—a hamlet perched high in Canada’s Arctic, alone on a large, flat, windswept island—Betty Kogvik never had any interest in plants.
Gjoa Haven experiences weeks of total darkness during its long winters. Though shrubs might stir to life as ice and snow recede, they remain low to the tundra floor during the short summers. The nearest trees, the shortest and skinniest of spruces, are hundreds of miles south on the Canadian mainland.
Today, however, Ms. Kogvik expertly grows strawberries, carrots, broccoli, bell peppers, microgreens, tomatoes, and a myriad of other fruits and vegetables—all year round.
“I didn’t know anything about plants before,” said Ms. Kogvik, an Inuit woman like most residents of the Canadian Arctic. “Now I’m a green thumb.’’
Ms. Kogvik works inside a high-tech greenhouse that provides locally grown fresh produce, a first in the region’s living memory. Within insulated shipping containers, shielded from the harsh outside, artificial lights nurture plants in soil and water, maintained by constant heating for much of the year.
Researchers hope this greenhouse will eventually offer an alternative to perishable goods expensively flown in from southern Canadian cities, leading to a healthier diet for the Inuit, who have inhabited Canada’s Arctic for centuries.
Historically, the nomadic Inuit sustained themselves on raw meat and fish, compensating for the lack of fruits, vegetables, and sunlight. Over the centuries, vitamin deficiencies are thought to have claimed the lives of many European explorers in the Arctic, including members of the Franklin expedition, who perished near Gjoa Haven in their ill-fated quest for the legendary Northwest Passage.
Today, many Inuit in Gjoa Haven and other remote parts of Canada’s vast Arctic are navigating between traditional and Western diets. Following their relocation into hamlets like Gjoa Haven by the Canadian government in the 1960s, the Inuit now largely lead sedentary lives and rely on local supermarkets. This shift has resulted in rising obesity rates and the highest levels of food insecurity in Canada. In Gjoa Haven, a community of approximately 1,500 people, the high cost and inconsistent quality of fresh produce at the two local supermarkets have long been a source of dissatisfaction.
Several years ago, the elders of the hamlet expressed interest in a greenhouse to researchers at the Arctic Research Foundation, a private Canadian organization. The foundation, which had previously located one of the sunken Franklin ships in 2016 with the help of Gjoa Haven residents, sought a continued partnership with the community.
In 2019, shipping containers were strategically placed on a hill at the village’s outskirts, a location chosen by the elders. These containers, retrofitted as a greenhouse, are powered by wind turbines, solar panels, and a backup diesel generator, and are collectively named “Naurvik,” meaning “the growing place” in the Inuit language.
For many Inuit, who had no prior experience with agriculture, working at the greenhouse was initially daunting. Ms. Kogvik recalled panicking when the foundation’s researchers departed Gjoa Haven after establishing the facility in 2019.
“I told them, ‘In the next couple of days, you’re going to hear me screaming and shouting because all the plants are going to be dead,’” she recounted. “But two weeks later I harvested them.”
Today, Ms. Kogvik mentors new employees, like Kyle Aglukkaq, 35, who was working on a recent Saturday afternoon. Mr. Aglukkaq remembered being fascinated by a plant life episode of “The Magic School Bus” as a child. However, with no plants around him in real life, he had no idea how to care for them, believing them to be extremely fragile.
“But actually, you don’t have to be really careful with them,” he observed.
“You can rough them up,” Ms. Kogvik playfully added.
Both workers carefully tended to a variety of vegetables and fruits growing in soil or water on shelves within the two shipping containers.
“This is a really impressive strawberry,” Ms. Kogvik noted, holding up a bright red, medium-sized fruit dangling from its stem. “These are a bit sweeter and tastier than those in the stores, which often taste old.”
Later that afternoon, Ms. Kogvik packed an assortment of greens into sandwich bags and delivered them to the hamlet’s community center. The greenhouse’s produce is also regularly donated to local elders and members of the search and rescue team.
Currently, the greenhouse produces only small quantities and operates as a research center, partially funded by the Canadian Space Agency. So far, the project has cost approximately 5 million Canadian dollars, or $3.6 million, to construct and operate since 2019, according to Tom Henheffer, chief executive of the Arctic Research Foundation.
However, the greenhouse is slated to transition to full-scale production over the next three years, Mr. Henheffer stated. The foundation believes that this initiative, combined with a facility to process and export other local products like Arctic char, can achieve economic sustainability in Gjoa Haven and other Inuit communities.
The foundation also aims to qualify for a federal program that subsidizes retailers transporting healthy perishables from southern Canada.
“Instead of giving money to grocers in the south, you’d be paying it to people in the community growing food,” Mr. Henheffer explained.
At the Co-op, one of Gjoa Haven’s two supermarkets, Hailey Okpik, 28, was shopping with her 6-month-old daughter strapped to her back. She filled about six shopping bags with various items, including milk, fruits, vegetables, and prepared meals—a week’s supply for her family of six. The total bill came to 914 Canadian dollars, or $660.
“The prices are the same at both supermarkets,” Ms. Okpik noted, adding that she preferred the Co-op because it is community-owned.
While most goods arrive in Gjoa Haven via an annual sealift, fresh produce and other perishables are flown in from northern Manitoba once a week.
During winter, when temperatures plunge to minus 40 Fahrenheit, fresh produce can spoil within minutes during the short journey from the airport to the supermarket, said Moussa Ndiaye, a Senegalese immigrant who has managed the Co-op for the past three years. “In winter, bananas freeze very quickly, and sometimes you have watermelons that arrive completely frozen,” Mr. Ndiaye explained. “We have to discard them right away.”
Duane Wilson, a vice president at the Winnipeg-based Arctic Co-ops, an umbrella group for local co-ops in the Arctic, stated that the costs of transportation and the small scale of retail in Arctic communities contribute to higher checkout prices. Critics of the supermarkets, however, argue they are overcharging.
Whatever the reasons for the high prices, the outcome is stark: nearly 60 percent of people in Nunavut—a vast Canadian territory with small northern communities like Gjoa Haven—are financially unable to purchase enough food of sufficient quantity and quality. Nunavut experiences the highest food insecurity rate in Canada, more than double the average across the ten provinces, according to the Canadian government.
Gjoa Haven, much like many other Indigenous communities, transitioned from a traditional nomadic lifestyle just a couple of generations ago.
Tony Akoak, 67, who represents the hamlet in Nunavut’s legislature, shared that he grew up eating animals and fish harvested by his father. Yet, he himself never learned to hunt or fish—skills that have progressively faded among younger Inuit.
“They’re just going to the store and getting junk food,” Mr. Akoak lamented.
Still, Mr. Akoak remained optimistic that, with support from the Canadian government, the greenhouse could eventually expand to provide fresh produce for many of the hamlet’s residents. Reflecting on how life in Gjoa Haven has changed within his own lifetime, Mr. Akoak expressed amazement that fruits and vegetables are now being grown year-round.
“So anything can grow here,” he concluded, “if you look after it properly.”
