Sorry this is so long. My story is almost over.
This might have to be broken up into a couple of parts. Novelettes or serials, if you will.
I was going to tell you about Herbie and Joey. We decided to head over to Herbie Nayokpuk’s house the other night and get the tour of his trophies and meet the family. People here are tremendously welcoming and without hesitation invite you into the midst of their family gatherings. We walked up to his house (Address: “The blue house in front of the church”) and the first sight that met us was the head of a reindeer/caribou detached, propped up on the antlers, and still dripping blood. The Nayokpuk clan had just returned from berry picking and hunting, and they were dressing out the freshly killed animal on the front porch. It was very cool and gruesome at the same time. Not anything like the initiation to the Wolverine pack in Red Dawn (Wolverines!). We were waved inside into the pungent odor of a home that serves fish or seal for every meal and met the family sprawled out across the living room and kitchen. Herbie’s four daughters, all from outside of Shishmaref (Fairbanks, Boston, Anchorage, and the Northwest I think) were up visiting for the week. Also there was Joey Redington who, as I mentioned in the son of Joe Redington, Sr. the father of the Iditarod. He brought the Great Race to life in the early 1970s. He also managed to summit Mt. McKinley with a dog team. His sons all still run dog teams, and Joey has 70 dogs near Tanana. He brought with him a huge bag of the oiliest, best tasting smoked king salmon bellies with him. They were taken from the Yukon river, and were about the best gift he could bring. We sat, ate, visited awhile, and took a couple of pictures with Herbie and his trophies. The thing that struck me most, however, was that the dozens of trophies were almost totally obscured by pictures of family and grandkids and nieces and nephews. Things that are truly important. Ahh, perspective.
As a part of the health care we are providing here, we are also leaving the clinic and going to the homes of some of the elders and other who aren’t able to make it in for a visit. We visited the home of a woman named Katherine who lived with her granddaughter and what appeared to be several other people in a house with a main room and 3 small nooks with curtains separating them from the rest of the house. No running water, no bathroom, and the distinct smell of dried fish. This was an 80 something year old lady who didn’t leave her bed for anything but the occasional 4 wheeler ride, and still sewed with a hand crank sewing maching on the edge of her bed. She was surrounded by mukluks, gloves, hats, and assortment of sewn fur accoutrements which she still makes and sells. She had a wonderful sense of humor and the loudest heart murmur I have ever heard.
We also visited the house of a woman, her name was Lola, she was a dancer, just kidding, she was a little old lady who was stone deaf and getting by just fine on her own. She actually had one of the few houses with indoor plumbing and running water, which was this monstrous contraption in the front room, much like the one in the Simpson’s Australia episode which made the water swirl the correct way when flushed. Like everyone else, her house was covered with pictures of family. After our visit, we hopped back on the 4-wheeler for the ride back to the clinic cruising through the sand dunes that made up the roads. I was told by a woman who grew up here that when she was young, there was no sand. There was just the grass, thick on top of the dunes, and a single path running through town to the church. It is hard to imagine, only a few years, but a world away.
So many more stories, but I will tell one more tonight. Yesterday was the sunniest day we have had here on the island, so I decided to circumnavigate the northern end. I don’t know how far it is, but I walked for a couple of hours. I didn’t find near as many dead things this time, as the storms of the past week may have washed them away. I did find lots of jellyfish in shallow pools, and a number who wee left high and dry when the tide went out. They formed the most amazing geometric patterns as they dried. I know we are all somewhat symmetrical beings, but these jellies looked like they had been planted there. I thought they were some man-made thing that had washed ashore before I took a closer look. At the northern-most end of the island I found a whale skill. It had been partially dug out of the sand, and must have been 3-4 feet in diameter. Very prehistoric looking. I half wondered if it was the skull of a mammoth. I walked past blowing dunes and my footsteps were almost immediately obscured by the moving sands, and returned to town a little weary from the long walk and amazingly no less intrigued by this island village.
I was going to tell you about Herbie and Joey. We decided to head over to Herbie Nayokpuk’s house the other night and get the tour of his trophies and meet the family. People here are tremendously welcoming and without hesitation invite you into the midst of their family gatherings. We walked up to his house (Address: “The blue house in front of the church”) and the first sight that met us was the head of a reindeer/caribou detached, propped up on the antlers, and still dripping blood. The Nayokpuk clan had just returned from berry picking and hunting, and they were dressing out the freshly killed animal on the front porch. It was very cool and gruesome at the same time. Not anything like the initiation to the Wolverine pack in Red Dawn (Wolverines!). We were waved inside into the pungent odor of a home that serves fish or seal for every meal and met the family sprawled out across the living room and kitchen. Herbie’s four daughters, all from outside of Shishmaref (Fairbanks, Boston, Anchorage, and the Northwest I think) were up visiting for the week. Also there was Joey Redington who, as I mentioned in the son of Joe Redington, Sr. the father of the Iditarod. He brought the Great Race to life in the early 1970s. He also managed to summit Mt. McKinley with a dog team. His sons all still run dog teams, and Joey has 70 dogs near Tanana. He brought with him a huge bag of the oiliest, best tasting smoked king salmon bellies with him. They were taken from the Yukon river, and were about the best gift he could bring. We sat, ate, visited awhile, and took a couple of pictures with Herbie and his trophies. The thing that struck me most, however, was that the dozens of trophies were almost totally obscured by pictures of family and grandkids and nieces and nephews. Things that are truly important. Ahh, perspective.
As a part of the health care we are providing here, we are also leaving the clinic and going to the homes of some of the elders and other who aren’t able to make it in for a visit. We visited the home of a woman named Katherine who lived with her granddaughter and what appeared to be several other people in a house with a main room and 3 small nooks with curtains separating them from the rest of the house. No running water, no bathroom, and the distinct smell of dried fish. This was an 80 something year old lady who didn’t leave her bed for anything but the occasional 4 wheeler ride, and still sewed with a hand crank sewing maching on the edge of her bed. She was surrounded by mukluks, gloves, hats, and assortment of sewn fur accoutrements which she still makes and sells. She had a wonderful sense of humor and the loudest heart murmur I have ever heard.
We also visited the house of a woman, her name was Lola, she was a dancer, just kidding, she was a little old lady who was stone deaf and getting by just fine on her own. She actually had one of the few houses with indoor plumbing and running water, which was this monstrous contraption in the front room, much like the one in the Simpson’s Australia episode which made the water swirl the correct way when flushed. Like everyone else, her house was covered with pictures of family. After our visit, we hopped back on the 4-wheeler for the ride back to the clinic cruising through the sand dunes that made up the roads. I was told by a woman who grew up here that when she was young, there was no sand. There was just the grass, thick on top of the dunes, and a single path running through town to the church. It is hard to imagine, only a few years, but a world away.
So many more stories, but I will tell one more tonight. Yesterday was the sunniest day we have had here on the island, so I decided to circumnavigate the northern end. I don’t know how far it is, but I walked for a couple of hours. I didn’t find near as many dead things this time, as the storms of the past week may have washed them away. I did find lots of jellyfish in shallow pools, and a number who wee left high and dry when the tide went out. They formed the most amazing geometric patterns as they dried. I know we are all somewhat symmetrical beings, but these jellies looked like they had been planted there. I thought they were some man-made thing that had washed ashore before I took a closer look. At the northern-most end of the island I found a whale skill. It had been partially dug out of the sand, and must have been 3-4 feet in diameter. Very prehistoric looking. I half wondered if it was the skull of a mammoth. I walked past blowing dunes and my footsteps were almost immediately obscured by the moving sands, and returned to town a little weary from the long walk and amazingly no less intrigued by this island village.
posted by rob at 10:40 PM
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