Thomas Rohner in Iqaluit 

Why people in Canada’s remote Arctic capital are obsessed with Amazon Prime

Goods can only reach the communities by air or – when the Arctic Ocean thaws – by sea, making the free year-round shipping vital
  
  

Cargo delivery for Amazon in Iqaluit.
Cargo delivery for Amazon in Iqaluit. Photograph: Twitter via @FrankReardon1



Iguptaq Autut, a comedian from Canada’s Arctic territory of Nunavut, knew he had truly arrived in the territory’s capital the day he walked out of the post office with an Amazon box under his arm.

“Walking down the street, I thought: ‘I’m from Iqaluit now,’” joked Autut, 47.

Iguptaq had grown up in Igluligaarjuk, a town of just 500 people on the north-western coast of the Hudson Bay, so for him Iqaluit – with a population of almost 8,000 – was the big city.

And among its perks was access to Amazon Prime, whose free shipping deal has become crucial to many in Canada’s remotest territorial capital.

There are no roads or rail lines into Nunavut, where 40,000 mostly Inuit inhabitants live largely in coastal communities separated by immense stretches of tundra and ocean. The closest urban centres lie thousands of kilometres to the south.

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Goods – from groceries and household items to construction and mining equipment – can only reach the territory’s 25 communities by air, or – during the four- or five-month window when the Arctic Ocean thaws – by sea.

Shipping expenses drive up prices, leaving Nunavut with a cost of living among the highest in the country – even while it struggles with the some of Canada’s highest rates of poverty.

All of which helps explain why – if they can afford the C$80 annual fee – Amazon’s free year-round shipping is vital to many in Iqaluit, the only Nunavut community where the service is available.

Parents especially rely on it for basics like diapers and formula – which can cost up to twice as much in local shops as in most of southern Canada.

So important is the free delivery, that some locals are wary of discussing it in public for fear that Amazon may revoke it.

That depth of feeling helps explain the hearty guffaws to Autut’s routine about his first Amazon package at a live event in Iqaluit: “I kept that first box for a long time. Even though it was empty, I’d walk down the street carrying it, just to feel part of the community,” he said.

Amazon Canada offered some reassurance: “There are no plans at this time to make any changes,” a representative said.

But that also means that Amazon Prime will still be unavailable in Nunavut’s other communities, where shipping costs can be astronomical.

Last year, Nunavut airports received 14 times as much air cargo per capita as the national average, according to Statistics Canada.

Canada Post, which flies all mail into Iqaluit, said the volume of their parcel deliveries have increased more than 30% per cent in the last three years. Most of those parcels are Amazon boxes.

Last month a glitch on Amazon’s website induced a minor panic when Iqaluit customers were told free shipping was unavailable. Some found a workaround by altering their postal code, and soon, Iqaluit’s post office was snowed under by Amazon parcels.

“There’s over 20,000 pounds of mail that can’t even be sorted yet at the post office. Please pick up any parcels you can tomorrow!” one city councillor wrote on Facebook.

But while items as big as mattresses, fish tanks and wood stoves are delivered by air cargo on Amazon Prime, some things still need to be shipped by sea.

Earlier this year, barges ferried 64 self-contained modular units from China for a prefabricated hotel on to the beach of Iqaluit during high tide (the town has no port).

Small business owners rely on sea cargo as well.

Justin Clarke owns Uasau Soap with his wife, Bernice. Their handmade soaps, shampoos and lotions feature whale blubber and tundra flora. But they also rely on materials sourced in Mississauga, Ontario – more than 2,500km away.

“We’re just two little people with a small company, so we have three or four pallets. There’s other people with eight or 16 pallets,” said Clarke, whose grandfather from Newfoundland captained ships to Iqaluit.

When the Clarkes’ shipment finally reached Frobisher Bay, it had to wait for days while the modular hotel units were unloaded.

Locals hope such delays will soon be a thing of the past, when a new deepwater port on the outskirts of town is completed in 2021.

The city currently has no recycling program, so most packaging from its deliveries currently ends up in a landfill.

But that too is set to change: a new landfill and sorting facility is under construction, with a goal of eventually diverting up to 44% of household waste to be recycled after it is completed next year.

Amid the change, the people of Iqaluit continue to adapt, said Autut.

“People used to use CB radios to announce what they were selling – bannock [flat bread], caribou meat, clothes ... When Facebook came around, there was even more of a market for that – and then Amazon came along.

“It would be really hard for a lot of people here to live without it.”

 

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