So, I promised not to journal again last night; but, I still want to share a few more things from yesterday.
Last night, after dinner, while Liza and I were working on our headdresses, Crystal came over and sat with us. Crystal (and her mom, Sally, and daughters, Nadia and the baby) are from Atka. Atka is a town of just 60 people. She shared some interesting aspects of life in such a small and secluded (it’s very far out on the Aleutian chain) place.
In Atka, there is no doctor, no police officer, and no jail. That doesn’t mean they don’t need those things—so they have accommodations.
Instead of a doctor, they have a “general health practitioner.” A general health practitioner has training in how to perform emergency stabilization (like an EMT) and how to take a medical history and conduct a thorough exam. The practitioner can’t, however, prescribe medication. Instead, the practitioner performs the exam and then calls a doctor at the Alaska Native Hospital. The doctor then prescribes medication. The clinic has a small pharmacy and can dispense medications according to the doctor’s orders. If the pharmacy doesn’t have the medication, then it has to be ordered from Anchorage.
Crystal and her husband lived in Anchorage when Nadia was born, but lived in Atka when Crystal was pregnant with their youngest. I asked her how that worked. Apparently, her insurance paid for her to go to Anchorage a month before her due date and stay in a hotel until after the baby was born. Her husband and Nadia joined her after she’d been in Anchorage about 2 weeks. Since her baby was born 12 days late, Crystal spent almost a month and a half in the hotel, and her husband and Nadia spent about a month there.
Crystal’s husband is the “public safety officer”—which is like a police officer, but broader—since he is the only law enforcement (Really, just him). There was jail space in a municipal building, but it is not insolated or heated. Instead, if her husband has to arrest someone, he does so by putting the person under house arrest.
It wasn’t until after high school that Crystal began taking an interest in the Aleut culture. She’s since focused on learning traditional ways and, in particular, the language. She hopes to share this with others.
I had continued beading through this conversation and was able to get quite a bit done.
On the car ride back, I told Merle about how she never says yes when people ask her to learn beading. Merle thought for a second and then laughed—a lot. I don’t know if Merle likes us as much as we like her; but, she’s been a major highlight of the camp.
And now… on to today.
We eat a breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, spam, and cinnamon rolls. The food is totally different than what I’d expected. I thought there’d be a lot of fresh fish and traditional foods. Instead, our diet is dominated by processed foods. While I’m not the healthiest eater, my body is definitely NOT used to this.
I’m still working on my headdress. Others went to the beach for a science lesson by the Fish and Wildlife Department. (I’ve learned that this is the national conservation division. Fish and Game is the state-level management group. Fish and Wildlife is the biggest funder of Alaska culture camps—across the state—as they try to forge a partnership with locals.) I need to keep working on my headdress if I have any hope of finishing—and so skip the beach trip.
By lunch I’ve finished the beading on the side. I take a break and eat fried bread and a soup of vegetables and spam.
Not too long after lunch, I just can’t do anymore beading. I am exhausted. I think I may be fighting the “camp crud”… a cold that’s been going around. I go upstairs and rest with the babies.
After I wake up, I talk with Mike. Most of his students are working on other things. Somehow our discussion migrates to the ongoing bathroom issues. Namely, the toilet seems to clog just about every day—often overflowing. Mike said that this was really NOT an issue compared to many smaller villages, particularly in the Bethel area. He said, if I was ever asked to teach someplace without running water, the answer is no. I thought that probably would have been my answer anyway; but, he elaborated. In the places Mike had visited, he said there’d be a toilet, but under the toilet was a bucket and there was no place to wash your hands. Pretty hard to imagine!!
After this chat, I go back downstairs. I bead on my headdress for awhile, then (because Shay was at the store) I work on my diamond-pattern project at Merle’s table.
Pretty soon it is time for dinner. I eat some barbecue chicken and macaroni salad.
After dinner, I continue working on both of my projects. As the evening/adult classes begin, the focus of much conversation is the gas shortage. Earlier in the day, Evan’s grandpa was at the gas station. (I use the term gas station very loosely—it’s a shed on pilings in the harbor. The pilings are getting old; so, only 3 cars are allowed on the gas dock at a time.) Evan’s grandpa’s truck lost its brakes. He could either go into the gas station or over the edge and into the water. He chose the gas station. The attendant was in the building at the time and was quite scared when the truck came plowing into the building. He was alright, though. Unfortunately, it means that the gas isn’t accessible and won’t be for a week.
The gas shortage is a big concern for everyone, including us. Mike’s car is almost on empty and no one has any ideas other than walking back and forth to camp.
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