Hello again,
You know, I have to say the last letter was a tad bit much. When I re-read
it, it seemed like it would never end. Sorry, I should have broken it down into
two installments. Also I believe I have a tendency to write about things I have
already written about. That's the CRS syndrome kicking in again (can't remember
sh..).
See, that's what I'm talking about, I already wrote about CRS!
Basketball is big in rural Alaska (which is most of Alaska). All villages
have a school, no matter whether there are 100 or 1000 folks that call it home.
All villages have a basketball team not to mention an indoor court to play the
game on. I sometimes think the basketball court is the most important part of
the school. After all, you could hold class there if needed right, so why have
classrooms? Just kidding.
Anyway, competition between villages is fierce. The amount of players on a
team however, depends on how many kids they have in the appropriate grades and
the kids they do have making passing marks. There are both a boys and a girls
team in each village (if they have enough kids). All games are well attended
wherever they are played. Recently the school district in the Northwest Arctic
began allowing the teams to ride snowmachines to games between certain villages.
There are of course many requirements that have to be met before they do. There
are playoffs going on right now it rural Alaska and in Anchorage and whenever a
game is going on you can believe it monopolizes the radio airwaves. I.e. Our
only radio station. Wherever you go be it the bank, the grocery, or wherever
you are, you will hear the game. There have also been games in Kotzebue the
last couple of weeks and folks from many of our villages are in town.
One way of telling something is going on in town even if you weren't in
the know is when walking through the hospital lobby everyday, the table set up
for locals to sell their art is just covered with hand made pieces. Whenever
folks from the villages come to the "big city" it expands their market for their
local handmade art work. Today there were numerous Eskimo yo-yo's, an
otikluk-an Eskimo designed hand made smock with slash pockets and a hood, a pair
of mukluks (boots), numerous pieces of jewelry such as hand carved crosses,
earrings, even a couple of necklaces, some made with grizzly claws and others
with polar bear claws. I try my best not to look closely as I walk by. People
already tell us that our apartment looks like a museum.
Let me mention again about the animals all this art work comes from. With
very few exceptions, if any, all the meat is either consumed by humans-including
both types of bear, muskrat, whale, seal, beaver, and so on, or it is used to
feed the dogs many people still keep for pulling sleds. Very little is
wasted-including many parts that the rest of us discard. (The exception being
the polar bear liver which contains toxic levels of vitamin A?? due to their
diet.) This frugality is from thousands of years of arctic survival.
I really don't have much to write about so soon but I just had to sit and
type. I guess the triggering factor that made me stop and hack at the keyboard
is a man who the last two days has been sitting in the lobby playing his guitar
and singing.
Yesterday in the lobby by the table, this man sat playing his guitar and
singing an Inupaq rendition of the "Battle of New Orleans". That's one of those
unique life experiences I keep talking about. The song is the same with just the
words changed to match the locale. It is however sung with an Eskimo inflection
which in and of itself is unique.
This same man sat there again this afternoon strumming a tune and singing.
I don't remember what he was singing this time but it was a recognizable ballad
that was pleasant to listen to. The difference this time is I had just come
from the other side of the hospital where a multitude of people were waiting in
the tiny ER waiting room. There was an individual in the ER who was imminent.
This person is from one of our villages and the number of people already present
here at the hospital speaks volumes about this individual’s status. I am a
simple person and these two contrasts tweaked something inside of me. I stood
looking for a moment at one man enjoying life while sharing his talents and
touching the lives of others, while on the other side of the hospital one of
life's oldest dramas played itself to another close. The person involved in
this drama too it appears, judging by the large gathering of folks quietly
waiting, has also shared a large portion of themselves and in doing so, touched
the lives of others.
Carlo
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Last updated:
08/29/05