Winter Solstice

Winter Solstice is upon us. Sarah and I were able to watch the first Lunar Eclipse with a full moon on Winter Solstice in 400 years last night due to the clear, cold skies of Kwethluk. She braved the 18 below windchill, bundled  from head to toe, to go watch it outside, laying in the snow, with Nali nearby. I, however, watched it from the living room window.

When Sarah finally came inside, she said, “My hands are about to freeze off!” to which I replied, “Are my gloves not warm enough?” I was concerned since I just bought those gloves to help me live through winter on the tundra.

“I kept taking them off to text.” Figures!

Solstice, both winter and summer, is a time of celebration in Alaska. The seasons here are so different that marking their beginning and end is of great importance.  Winter Solstice means that the days will now start getting longer, about 5 minutes longer each day until June 21^st, Summer Solstice. As much as I love the long nights of winter, I am definitely looking forward to summer more than ever this year and today marks the downhill slide to summer.  Summer will bring friends and civilization, road travel and walks on the beach, hikes to Grewingk Glacier and specialty coffees at KBay. Summer will bring life.

It is often hard to find “life” here in the winter. The village is a hard place to live. The cold keeps me inside. The darkness makes me want to stay in bed. The frustrating days at school make me want to change careers. Walking outside, bundled in my parka, my peripheral vision is cut off and all I can do is stare at the ground to keep my face from freezing solid. The wind rips through the siding on the house and blows drifts up our front steps. The fog hems us in and prevents the mail from coming.

I have to remind myself to look for the good, the “life,” around me. The winter sunsets are often vibrant and colorful. The K300 sled dog race is in mid-February and will bring mushers from around the world past our village and down the river. We have accomplished much in my classroom this year - reading Shakespeare, writing resumes, printing a school newspaper. The isolation is bringing Sarah and me closer together every day. The snow makes everything fresh and new. The paycheck is sending me and my girls to Hawaii for the holidays.

Tomorrow is the last day of the semester. We are halfway done here. Even though it often feels like a prison term, I have to remind myself that it was self-inflicted. I have learned things about myself here that I would never have know had I not had this experience. Self-reflection is necessary. Introspection is imminent here. It cannot be avoided.

The lack of sunlight in Alaska has never bothered me before. But, before, I’ve always had the mountains to look at during the few hours of daylight. I miss the mountains. I miss them terribly. Lack of Vitamin D that the daylight brings is definitely affecting me physically this year. No doubt, it was a contributing factor to my two bouts with pneumonia. Now, I’ve broken out with a rash on my neck and face. It’s an allergic reaction of sorts. It could be due to the nail polish that I put on last week, for the first time in years. Or, it could just be stress, like everything else. I’m hoping that a few weeks in Hawaii will cure what ails me, that I can return to this desolate place rejuvenated, revived, and ready to finish out the school year with a bang.

Another Village First

When I came home from school on Wednesday, the toilet in our house wouldn’t flush. I made the usual calls to Ira, the head maintenance man, and Adam, the assistant maintenance man, only to leave messages on their voicemails. I tested the faucets to make sure the pipes hadn’t frozen – the high that day was 10 below zero with windchills of 30 below zero. Then, the toilet just magically started working again so I called back and left a voicemail for Ira but when I called Adam’s house, a man answered and took a message to pass along to Adam. The man on the other end of the phone spoke broken English and I had a feeling that he didn’t understand me when I told him that the toilet was now working and Adam didn’t need to come by. This was at about 6pm.

At 10:30pm, Sarah and I were in pajamas, watching a Weeds DVD when it sounded like a snowmachine pulled up outside. We looked at the clock and looked at eachother and Sarah suggested that I go look out the window to see what was going on. Before I could get out of my recliner, I heard the front door open and then Adam was standing in the middle of our living room, seal skin hat tied snug under his chin, wearing a black parka and snowpants. The door had been locked but Adam has a key since he’s a maintenance man. He had just let himself in and was in our house before we even knew what happened.

“It’s working now. Uh… the toilet’s working now. I left a message at your house. I’m sorry you didn’t get it, but everything’s fine now, “ I spilled out, flustered, as I pulled the blanket up around my neck in an attempt at modesty.

“I’ll just go check anyway,” he answered as he walked through the house with his snowboots on. He hurried past the bathroom to the utility room in the back of the house. We figured that he must be checking the water line to the bathroom. After a quick minute, he came tromping back through the house (remember that Sarah and I are in our pajamas and it is 10:30 at night) past the bathroom again. He stopped at the front door and leaned down to put his hand in front of the baseboard heater.

“There’s plenty of Glycol. Seems to be working now.” He smiled through the darkness of the fur hat surrounding his dark-skinned face. He has a kind face and I teach his teenage son and daughter in class every day.

“There’s nothing wrong with the heater. It was the toilet,” I told him. His confused look caused me to repeat what I’d said, more slowly this time (Adam is a native Yupik speaker and his English is sketchy).

“It – was – the – toilet – that – wasn’t – working.” I said slowly. “But – it’s – fine – now.” Another confused look from Adam. “It’s – all – good.” I gave him a dramatic double thumbs up to drive home the point I was trying to make.

He nodded, “Okay.” And, he was gone – back out the door. In a few seconds, we heard the snowmachine fire up and drive away.

Sarah and I, still sitting in the living room under blankets, looked at each other, dumbfounded. Did that really just happen? Did someone really just unlock our front door and walk into our house uninvited on a Wednesday night at 10:30?

Personal space and privacy have no place in a village. The Yupik are used to taking care of one another, spending time in each other’s houses, raising one another’s children. I’m sure they find it laughable that I even use the deadbolt on my front door.

Thankful Round-Out

I needed to publish the last of my 30 Thankfuls for November, so here they are...

#25 Thankful for My Students

Laughter. Questions. Smiles. Raised eyebrows. Completed assignments. These are the reasons that I am thankful for my students. I was even supposed to go to Bethel again next week and miss class Thursday and Friday to grade district-wide Writing Assessments, but I elected to stay here instead and teach my classes.

#26 Thankful for Weekends

They give me something to look forward to, a chance to cocoon myself or a chance to wander – whatever feels right. I usually bake a loaf of bread either on Saturday or Sunday morning and enjoy several cups of coffee, splurging with a little chocolate syrup in each cup… only on weekends. I can plan a meal that takes all day to cook, like a pot of beans or a roasted turkey. Hours are spent catching up on movies, cross-stitch, and reading. If the weather is nice, the weekend is the only time that affords me a daylight walk with Nali. Yes, weekends are where it’s at!

#27 Thankful for My Education

Education truly does give a person opportunities. I’m glad to have my Masters degree and am looking forward to starting my PhD. I truly love learning and hope I never lose that.

#28 Thankful for the Darkness

Winter is my favorite time of year, always has been. Living this far north just magnifies my love of this special season. Winter is the longest season of the year here, lasting from October until sometime in April (the calendar dates of December 21-March 21 mean nothing this far north). One of the best parts of winter is the darkness. We lose about 5 minutes of light each day right now and will be down to about 5 hours of daylight by December 21, the darkest day of the year. Even the daylight at that time of the year isn't truly daylight, it's just a bright twilight, depending on the cloud cover. The sun just barely comes up over the horizon, skirts along the edge of the earth, and then dips back down below the sea. The long days of summer call for people to be energetic, constantly moving, getting as much done in a day as possible. Whereas the winter is lazy. The fishing and hunting has been done and the meat is tucked away with the berries in the freezer. Afternoon naps are delicious. Sleeping in on a Saturday morning just feels right when the sun doesn't come up until 11am. There's no pressure to get out and exercize because... well... it's dark.

#29 Thankful for Homer

As much as I miss Homer, it is comforting to know that the quaint little fishing village by the sea is patiently awaiting my return. I just finished reading Tide, Feather, Snow by Miranda Weiss of Homer and it's a wonderful novel about the magic of everyday life in a town at the end of the road on the edge of the sea surrounded by majestic snow-capped mountains. It made me terrible Homer-sick, but thankful at the same time.

#30 Thankful for Winter Break

It begins next week, Wednesday at 4pm to be exact. Sarah and I will be on a 5pm charter flight with six other teachers headed out of the village. Our winter break is three weeks long. I don't think I've ever looked so forward to something in all of my life. I've planned it for months, counted down the days for weeks, and now I'm still in the village in body only. My mind/heart has already left for the white sand beaches of Hawaii. This has been a rough five months. Wow has it really been that long? We have given up so much to be here. Yet, I think one day we'll look back at all we gained. Winter break this year seems paradoxical. Usually, one looks forward to a break from the average everyday life - a break from TV, a break from the hustle and bustle, a break from telephones and traffic and advertisements. However, a break for us is the chance to have all of those things for a change.

A couple of weeks ago, we had an "artist in residence" here in Kwethluk. Stephen Blanchett, member of Alaskan musical group, Pamyua ("again"), came to our school to teach Yupik dance. Pamyua is definitely worth looking up on Youtube if you're interested in hearing what "tribal funk" is all about. Stephen described himself as a You-frickin-American (Yufrican American) because he is half Yupik American and half African American. He certainly got the attention of my Theatre Arts students as he taught them motions to a traditional Yupik tale, The Raven. Here is the story along with some pics of my students acting it out...

Long ago, Squirrel was picking berries. On the way home, he saw Raven blocking his way in. To get home, Squirrel had to sing a song. The first time he sang. Raven didn't like it. The second time he danced. He tried to run in, but was too slow. The third time he ran through Raven’s legs, grabbing his bucket, and closed the door. Raven flew up to the top of Squirrel's house and looked through a hole. Squirrel was lying on the floor. He was so fat the fat was dripping off him. Raven sang, wanting to eat him.


Squirrel sang back, “Come on in.”

The hole was too small. Raven could only get his head through. Raven tried again and couldn’t make it. He flew off.

Raven saw a big hill where one side was smooth and the other side was rough. He wanted to go sliding down the hill. As he slid, he sang a song. At the bottom, his leg was broken. He put a splint on his broken leg. He slid down again, singing a song. This time, he broke his other leg. He slid down a third time singing a song. This time, he broke one of his wings. He slid down a fourth time, singing a song, and this time he broke his other wing. With two broken legs and two broken wings, all in splints, he flopped back up to the top. He slid down the fifth time, singing a song. At the bottom, Raven broke his neck... and died.

The end.

Counting Down the Sleeps

“How was your sleep?” is what I get asked most mornings by students. Translated, “How was your night?” So, using that logic, I’ve got 10 sleeps until we leave for Winter Break!

Our frosty doorknob, from inside the house!

It’s been cold here, very cold. The high doesn’t even hit zero during the day and the windchill (20-30mph winds) keep the temp close to 30 below. The inside of the door to the outside has frost on it. Thank goodness for the Mud Room, which has now become the Ice Room. The river is frozen solid now and has become a superhighway for snowmachines and automobiles (the 4WD kind). No speed limit, no road signs, no ditches, no holds barred.

A couple of little boys knocked on my door yesterday carrying what appeared to be a dead grouse (or maybe ptarmigan). Still sickly, I just called through the door, “No visitors,” and watched them walk to the principal’s house next door and knock (no one was home there). I’m not sure what they wanted. Perhaps they were bringing me a present, but I was in no mood to clean a grouse.

The wind howled last night, shaking the house and rattling the siding. It was from the north and it was blowing hard, smoothing over prints in the snow and seeping through the seams in the house. The floor gets cold on nights like that. But, our space heater and slippers help to take off the edge of the chill. Our house is insulated well and for that, I am thankful.

Denali’s been doing great outside during the day, although she has yet to go into her doghouse. I was worried about her being out in that cold, but she seems to be made for it. She gets a little frosty around the neck but seems happy and healthy.


Ten sleeps from now, Sarah and I will be bedding down in Bethel for the night. Eleven sleeps from now, I’ll be having a cocktail on the lanai of our condo in Honolulu – 72 degrees, watching the sun set without even a jacket on. I wish I could find that magic wand that I misplaced so that I could be sure to set a spell and slow down time while we are in Hawaii…

Pneumonia, Round 2

Pneumonia. This is the second time I’ve been down with it in the past 45 days. It’s worse this time, much worse. I took all the precautions – got the 7-year pneumonia shot last year (that covers 25% of the strains out there – apparently the other 75% are in Kwethluk), take a daily vitamin (when I remember), drink plenty of orange juice, take Echinacea and vitamin C supplements, get plenty of rest, and I even started exercising (remember Jillian?). However, there is one little bugger that I can’t seem to tame… stress. Beyond that, I’m not sure what else I can do. Anyway, here’s the story that led me to today…

Last Friday, I came home from school feeling like I was getting a cold – stuffy nose, drainage in the throat, the usual. I started dosing up on herbal tea and vitamin C. It just got worse. By Saturday night, I had a pretty bad cough and by Sunday, I knew it was at least Bronchitis – fever coming in around 99. I made an appointment at the clinic for 9am, found someone to cover my class, bundled up, and made the half-mile walk there in 20 below windchill temps.

My fever was 100. After 30 minutes of her asking me questions, looking up information in a medical textbook, and writing down details on a sheet that she would soon fax to a doctor in Bethel, the exam was over. She told me that she heard crackling in my lungs and was sure it was pneumonia. I was sent back to school and told that she would call me later that afternoon with doctor recommendations.

At 3pm, I still had not heard from the clinic, so I called. My aide told me that the Bethel doctor said that my fever needed to be 102 before they’d prescribe antibiotics. That’s a new one! So, I called the Bethel doctor and she told me that without a chest x-ray (which can only be done if I spend an entire day flying back and forth to Bethel to have it done in the hospital there), my temperature has to be 102 for them to diagnose pneumonia. Where do they make up these rules?

By Tuesday morning, I was beginning to see stars from being lightheaded. In the classroom, I was useless as I only had a whisper of a voice. The soonest the clinic could see me was 2pm. I hauled myself there (remember that it’s a mile roundtrip) in the subzero temps, colder than Monday. They examined me (temp at 102), sent off the paperwork to Bethel, and I was given antibiotics. I barely remember my walk home. I know I was weaving as I walked down the road just concentrating on breathing, which was difficult, and keeping my eyes focused enough to put one foot in front of the other. Oh yeah, on my way out of the clinic, they demanded that I make a follow-up appointment for Wednesday (walk back there again? NOT!) which I did and promptly called to cancel Wednesday morning.

I spent the next several days in and out of bed, never leaving the house, doped up on as much medication as I could find. Thursday morning, I woke up with 9 cold sores lining my top lip and by Thursday night, I also had sores inside my nose. Miserable. Frustrated. Now, angry.

Now, it’s Friday. I’ve still got a bad cough and a sore chest, but I’m getting better, slowly. Now, my bigger concern is that I have a compromised immune system and I’m going back to the same conditions on Monday that got me sick twice so far. If I can just make it 12 more days, I’ll be on a tropical beach…

Smile like there's nothing wrong...

I just have to share the poem below that one of my students wrote and published on her blog. It speaks volumes. Her blog is entitled "Smile like there's nothing wrong."

I am both american and yupik because....
i am an american because.
I speak English, I had learned it from my parents.
I live in the United State and the state Is Alaska
Going on the computer for Facebook, Myspace and Hoverspot
I go to the store, to get junk food, because I got addicted to it
Going walking around Kwethluk, with my friends. At the night time.
Staying up late and waking up late.
Eating fast food when I don’t know what to eat.
Going to travel with airplane to other villages.
Trying to be really perfect act like were all that.

I am an yupik because
Eating Eskimo food like meat, akutaq, and other good food.
Manaqing at the river for good fish.
Yuraqing for the cultures of our traditions
Berry picking, for my family so that we could put berries away for Christmas
Packing water from the river so that we could have water in our homes.
Going haunting and getting real food for the family to have for the winter
My grandmother is from the Kuskokwim, and my other grandmother is from the Yukon
Getting wood from the fores, so that we could have for the winter and steaming
Finishing school and graduating to get a good education.
Steaming and feeling really clean.