When I decided to start The Qargi Zine, I committed myself to publishing the first four issues. In other words, I promised myself that I would put effort into this project for at least an entire year. Just try it out, I told myself. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. But give it time. After working on the first two issues, I started to feel discouraged. I began to wonder if this is a good thing to bring into the community. Are we ready to share our stories? Are we brave enough to express ourselves to the public? Am I the right person to be starting this? Having artwork transition from digital copies to tangible prints made me feel vulnerable. Growing up as a millenial, my creations are usually shared through a digital screen. I felt like, after putting so much of myself into the Zine, I was selling a piece of me that I’ll never get back again. I was handing myself out one copy at a time. I’m halfway through my goal and finishing this issue felt damn near impossible. I can clearly see my mistakes. I know where I went wrong with the past issues and I’m coming up with new solutions as I go. I am learning how to be patient as I work on the vision of The Qargi Zine. I would like to give credit to the contributors for making this possible. I could not have made it this far without the support of these individuals. I hope I am meeting everyone’s expectations as this Zine comes together. Thank you for taking the time to look at The Qargi Zine.
M. Jacqui Lambert
Tim Argetsinger Kiminaq Alby Berkowitz Reid Magdanz Hannah Atkinson Christina Fields Nyla Ivano Maija Lukin Paulette Schuerch Elizabeth Ferguson Denali Whiting Tiany Creed
06 Iñupiaq: A Surviving Language
11 13 16
08 Uqausiqput apqutinigni
12 14 18
OnTrack Playlist: girls’ night
salmon haiku
Kotzebue Through Instagram
Art By Chris
navigating leadership
snow go racing through the years
21 29
27 30
“I Did, i did, i did, iditarod!”
autumn dawn photography
dr.lincoln comes home
Scholarship opportunities
31 the state of the budget
35 interview with kalik barbara wesley
44 books based in alaska
34 Dancing
42 miss arctic circle
50 mango sii fish
Iñupiaq: A
Surviving Langauge Good Morning Good Afternoon Good Day
Uvlullautaq Anaqaksraallautaq
How are you?
Qanuq itpich?
How are you this morning? Come inside.
Nikaitchuat Phrase Book
Unnuksraallautaq
Good Evening
How are you today?
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Uvlaallautaq
Greetings
Qanuq itpich uvlupak? Qanuq itpich uvlaapak? Isiġiñ.
What is your father’s name?
Kiña aapavich atqa?
My father’s name is Ron.
Aapaŋma atqa Ron.
What is your mother’s name?
Kiña aakavich atqa?
My mother’s name is Beverly.
Aakaŋma atqa Beverly.
I am fine.
Nakuuruŋa
We are fine.
Nakuurugut
I am responsible to the Iñupiat for the survival of our spirit our values and our traditions. With my people I retain, teach, and live the Iñupiaq way. My universe and my place in it come from God. I respect all of his creations.
-Taimakŋa Alġaqsruutit -Elders’ Advice Book
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Uqausiqput apqutiniÄĄni
Our language on the street By Aqukkasuk Tim Argetsinger Edited by Edna MacLean
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Uqausiqput Apqutini nunapayaani Tusaaniqaqtuq Anchoragegum apqutiŋiññi Seattle-mi Ottawa-mi Montreal-mi Copenhagen-milu
Our language is heard on the streets All over the world On the streets of Anchorage Seattle Ottawa Montreal and Copenhagen
Iñuuqativut Apqutini iñuuruat
Our fellow Inuit The ones who live on the streets
Nagliksaaġniqsut Iñuuniaġniqsuat
The ones who have suffered The ones who have survived
Uqausiqput uumapkaġaat Kiñaiḷvit? Kinauvit? Kinaavit? Apiqsruġaaŋa Nunaptiknin uŋasiksut Nunaaqqiptinniñ uŋasiksut Iñuuqativut Makua apqutini iñuuruat Natchiġñik Annuġaagitchut Kasimayyaqtaŋitchut Qiḷautit qiñiġnaitchut niviŋaŋitchut Igluŋisa katchiŋiññi Iñupiaŋuruŋa kiusuugitka Iliptuntauq
They are keeping our language alive Who are you? (Iñupiatun) Who are you? (Inuktitut) Who are you? (Greenlandic) I am asked They are far from our homeland They are far from our communities Our fellow Inuit These ones living on the streets They don’t dress in Sealskin They don’t go to conferences They don’t have drums hanging on the walls of their houses I am a real person I answer them Like you
Iñuuqativut Makua apqutini iñuuruat
Our fellow Inuit The ones living on the streets
Nagliksaaġniqsut Iñuuniaġniqsuat
The ones who have suffered The ones who have survived
Tammaqturguuq Aasii uvva qanuqitpisali?
It is said that they are lost But what about us?
Iñuuqativut Makua apqutini iñuuruat
Our fellow Inuit The ones who live on the street
Uqausiqput uumapkaġaat
They are keeping our language alive
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Our mission is to serve our members by providing them the maximum amount of benefit possible with the resources available.
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or hild v i C rv y’s u S in aj t ly in es F M e D ir s ki F c i n ey N O K l bs ir icia u G l r A ct Sc LC e f o er N T P n’ nk i in k P! ct kl * e * p an F es Fr R a y th rr nce o re S yo A Be
Note: Denali won first place with this haiku for The Salmon Project. For more information go to salmonlife.org
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Kotzebue Through Instagram
(see your Instagram photos in the next issue by using the hashtag #KotzebueThroughInstagram) @finnskimo
@hannah.atki
@bigfeelings.jpg
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“The dancer is from the King Island dance group. The circles in the background represent the drums and the colors represent the beats the drums create: The cool colors representing the soft beats and the warm colors representing the hard beats. The 20” circular painting won Honorable Mention in this years UAA student union gallery’s Juried Student Show.”
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Written by Hannah Atkinson
The sun was setting. Standing on the rocky outcrop of a mountain in the middle of the Seward Peninsula, we knew Serpentine Hot Springs was near, but a distance away from where our snowmachine party had stopped on a steep slope that arched above the fog. The sun rays reflected through the low vapor creating a sea; an infinite distance from our destination. Although we hadn’t reached Serpentine Hot Springs yet, my group of educators and students had grown and faced the many of the challenges of winter travel in the Arctic as a team. I was growing into my own as a leader in this group. When Raymond asked me to go on the outdoor educational trip sponsored by the Northwest Arctic Borough School District, I knew it would be an important trip. The students from Noatak would be driving snowmachines over 500 miles round trip to Serpentine Hot Springs, the crown jewel of Bering Land Bridge National Preserve. There were six female students on the trip, and I was the only female chaperone in a group of six educators from Kotzebue and Noatak. When I was in high school,
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new to rural living and Inupiaq culture, I never would have signed up to drive 500 miles on a snowmachine and camp out for 6 nights. I didn't grow up with examples of women doing backcountry work. At 19, I attended an archaeological field school in central Alaska. It was my first time camping and hiking. It was also a new experience to see female archaeologists living and working in the backcountry. The work was hard, but I realized what I was capable of. Now working for the National Park Service, I have honed my backcountry skills on crews of men and women. However, it is most often men who plan the projects and make the decisions in the backcountry. Going into this trip, I felt caught between my inexperience and a call to lead. Meeting the group of students and teachers from Noatak, I knew I was out of my league. Noatak is a traditional village, the only settlement on the most wild and undeveloped river in North America. These people of Noatak, Nautaaqmiut, were dressed well in handmade garments of seal, beaver, fox, and wolf. As we gathered on the sea ice before our long journey, the students and teachers leaned casually on their pristine snowmachines. They had a
sled of wood expertly tied down. They were river people and they had come prepared for the open tundra of Bering Land Bridge National Preserve. The students and teachers had a quiet sense of familiarity with one another that only comes from spending 9 month winters in a community of 500. I knew that when they looked at me on my park-service issued snowmachine they saw a city girl and a federal employee. Two types of people they have been conditioned not to trust in the backcountry. We set off for the south, to our first camp 60 miles away. We would stay the night and continue on to Serpentine Hot Springs the next day. I immediately had trouble with my basket sled. My gas cans kept coming loose, spilling the valuable contents and soaking my sled in gasoline. I was traveling at the back of the group but once I caught up, had to get help from the male chaperons to tie down my gas cans. We were only 30 miles in and I (and everyone else) knew I couldn't do it. We made it to a plywood one room cabin called Callahan: our stop for the night. As we turned off our machines and started to delayer, a student hopped out of the
basket-sled she had been riding in at the front of the group and bee-lined to me. "Can I ride with you tomorrow?" Meeka was a tall girl with short hair falling in her eyes. Wolf scraps framed her face from her worn hunting parka. I could tell she needed me, it must have been uncomfortable riding in the basket sled over the icy bumpy trail. I worried about riding with a passenger, but the loneliness of riding another day at the back of the group convinced me to take her on. I told her to come find me in the morning and help with tying down the sled. After an embarrassing afternoon of riding, I was eager to get back to something I was familiar with: cooking camp meals. I approached the lead teacher and asked "Is there something I can do to help with dinner? Boil water? What are we having?" The white teacher who spoke with enough confidence that I knew he had years of experience teaching at the village school looked at me with amusement and said "Trout quaq with seal oil." Quaq, or frozen fish, requires little preparation. It is the perfect snack for eating on the move, as it comes from the highly mobile Inupiaq subsistence lifestyle. The teacher grabbed a fish from a big burlap sack and began peeling the skin from the small trout. Then he angled his knife in to flake the frozen fish flesh but not too deep as to pierce the ribs and the frozen organs. Icy fish flakes sparkled red in the high evening sun. Topped with seal oil and salt, it was ready to enjoy. I had never tried quaq, and I typically shied away from the strong tasting seal oil. This time I sat down to my dinner, determined to eat up and improve my poor first impression. The next day we set out for Deering, a community mid-way to the Hot Springs. After reaching Deering we knew we would have
“Many questions about my identity played into my ability to lead, such as my gender, cultural identity, and authority as a National Park Service employee.” enough daylight, with the sunset around 11PM, to reach the Hot Springs. It was a long day of riding, but it was enjoyable with my new riding partner, Meeka. I was not a good snowmachine driver, but Meeka didn't make me feel bad about it. She didn't know much about snowmachines, but she did have a knack for tying knots. We worked out a system to secure our sled and she helped to check our load throughout the day. As we neared the hot springs, there was no trail to follow. I had brought a GPS that I am familiar with after summers of locating archaeological sites. I was hesitant to get out my GPS, because it was packed away in the sled. Some of the male chaperons had GPS units, which they would gather around while the group rested. They would bicker about the orientation and then point in a couple different directions before climbing back on their machines, ready to ride. I didn't want to get left behind. We stopped to cool off a machine that had overheated and Meeka urged me to get out the GPS. She was eager to get to the Hot Springs and wanted to know how much farther it was. I had time to get the GPS and start it up, finding the familiar blue triangle cursor and entering in the coordinates of our destination. I gave it to Meeka so she could follow our progress. I knew we were nearing the springs, when we saw the valley with thick fog. From our stop on
the steep slope we headed down into the clouds. Looking at the elevation lines spelled out on my device, I felt confident that I knew where we were. I called one of the male trip leaders over to look at my GPS. We proceeded slowly, stopping to look at the GPS frequently. We crawled up and down small hills and dodged the large granite tors, signature of Serpentine Hot Springs, that were emerging from the fog at only 100 meters notice. I flipped between the compass and the map to make sure we were headed towards the destination. Finally we reached the Hot Springs right before dark. Unloading our sleds at the cabin, Raymond gave me a pat on the shoulder and said I had done a good job with navigation. I knew it had been a team effort, but that it was also a personal victory that I found my voice to help lead the group. In the two days we were at the springs I participated in my first caribou hunt, led an archaeology lesson, and helped the students with camp chores. Many questions about my identity played into my ability to lead, such as my gender, cultural identity, and authority as a National Park Service employee. It was a challenge to lead when I knew I had so much to learn, but as I think about the women who have taught me the most about the arctic, I’ve realized that it's important that I lead as I learn.
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Snow Go Racing Through The Years
Photos provided by: Harold Lambert Radar Lambert Stubby Octuck Dickie Moto James Mason Mary Sue Hyatt Lorenz Schuerch III
“Most of the racers felt that it was a good race; that there was a type of trail that suited every kind of machine there, but that the trail was extremely rough and difficult in many places. Between Selawik and Kiana there was lots of deep powder snow in the mountains, and two spots of overflow. The racers helped each other when mired in the soft snow, and Franklin Harris got wet to his knees helping others in the overflow. The roughest part of the trail, according to one of the races was between Kotzebue and Dan Snyders camp. The snow had drifted up, making the trail extremely bumpy, and forcing the racers to drive slowly. There were 46 entries in the race, 44 started, and 19 finished. The prize money totaled $7600, and the race was 250 miles long. The Iron Dog Association paid for all the gas, and picked up disabled drivers and their machines. The dog mushing clubs in the villages along the route helped at the checkpoints along the way. Pilots who spotted from the air were: Don Ferguson, Buck Maxin (in Leon Shellabarger’s plane), Ken Oldham, Warren Johnson (flying Ron Haye’s plane), Bill Remember, and Art Fields. After experiencing many difficulties, Les Richeson was picked up Tuesday after noon. He was out two days and two nights. He is safe and well. Welcome home Les!” (courtesy of Kotzebue Lion’s Club)
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By: Allison Berkowitz The Iditarod started on the morning of March 5th this year. A few hours afterward I was waiting in the crowded streets of downtown Anchorage for an event to start. This is my third year living in Alaska, but my first time taking in of any "Fur Rondy" events. "Fur Rondy" stands for “Fur Rendezvous.” It's a festival that occurs every year in late February or early March in Anchorage. These days the festival coincides with the start of Iditarod, but it has been going on since 1935 (which as you’ll read shortly, is before the Iditarod race was created!) It began as a three day festival in a time when there was very little to do and winters were much more difficult to get through than they are now. A man named Vern Johnson created the Fur Rendezvous. A three day winter festival during the time when miners and trappers came to town with their yields (items such as furs, hence the name!) These days it is 10 days long with all sorts of events like blanket tosses, photo contests, ice sculpting, and even a fair. The event my boyfriend and I decided to go to the day the Iditarod started was called, "The Run of the Reindeer," in which people do a short race alongside actual Reindeer! Interesting, right? While we all waited outside, smiling at one another in excitement for the race to start, a musician was playing a song he'd been asked to write for the occasion. He sang merrily, "I did! I did! I did, Iditarod!" The catchy tune stayed with me all day, and the longer it lingered in my head, the more it got me thinking. Ever since visiting Nome in 2013 and learning about the race, I've wanted to return to Nome to see its completion. Living in Alaska - as well as serving and learning from its incredible people - has changed me forever. However, I recently learned I was accepted into a graduate program in the Lower 48, so this would be my last year here. With only a few months left in the last frontier, I've felt a strong call to take
in every last bit of adventure and walk as many miles of this great state as I can before it's time to go. That night I decided to look into whether or not it would be feasible to make this dream - of seeing the Iditarod mushers come into Nome - a reality, and wouldn't you know it? It was! There was a flight available and a place to stay in Nome, so away I went. Before I get into what the experience was like though, let me backtrack and share some things I learned while there. Did you know that dog mushing is the state sport of Alaska? I did not! Its roots are based in necessity because it was once the main mode of transportation throughout the state. The "Iditarod," is a dog sledding race here and the state’s largest sporting event. It also has a following throughout the whole world. To my delight, friends from all over the Lower 48 (and even in other countries) knew exactly what I was talking about when I said I was going to watch the Iditarod mushers come in. Now then, how did this race come to be? "The Great Race of Mercy" While the first Iditarod race wasn’t held until March of 1973, it is steeped in a fascinating history which goes back much further than that! Native Alaskans had created a series of trails in the Northwest part of the state, and in the early 1900s - as gold was booming - those trails began being used to bring gold, mail, supplies, etc. In 1925, the trail would go on to become famous though. There was a small but growing epidemic of an illness called diphtheria in Nome, and it was poised to kill 100s to 1000s of people if they couldn't get the medicine needed. Unfortunately, said medicine's closest location was in Anchorage, and during the winter, roads connecting the area to the rest of the state were shut down. Thankfully for those sick folks in Nome though, people got creative. Hooray for
that incredible Alaskan ingenuity! On January 27th, 1925, 300,000 units of the medicine were sent as far as it would go by train, which was to Nenana. From there a group of dog mushers - and their dog sled teams - got the medicine to Nome, saving many people’s lives. Fast forward about 25 years. In the 1950s, there was a married couple that wanted the Iditarod trail preserved. They teamed up with a few others in the 1960s and got serious about organizing a race to do so. Their intention was twofold. Not only did they want to preserve the Iditarod trail, they also wanted to celebrate the history of dog sledding. It was no longer a necessity but still a beautiful tradition. When in Nome I left Anchorage for Nome on Sunday morning, 3/13/16. The trip was wild from the start. Just sitting on the plane waiting for takeoff was thrilling. The plane was electric with excitement about the race. The laps of happy travelers - and overhead storages - were full to the brim with large signs to cheer on their favorite mushers. All throughout the plane, you could hear rapid whispers talking about their thoughts, their stories, and the status of the race. One man sitting near me was a dog handler and was elated because someone had offered him a ticket to Nome at the last minute. He'd been working in mushing for years, but had never gotten to see the end of the race before. The joy on his face as he spoke was precious, like that of a little boy at Christmas time! I learned something a little sobering on the plane though. I initially had the intention of staying in Nome Sunday night and leaving Monday night. (What? I know! So silly in hindsight.) I had done some homework and in my calculations, I arrived at the conclusion that the first mushers would come in either Sunday night or Monday morning. However, I hadn’t taken their rest
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time into account! At this point, I realized I wasn’t going to see the first mushers come in. “Oh well. I’ll just take in as much of the festivities as I can,” I thought. Sunday was spent doing just that. I set my things down in the room I’d be staying in, put on all my warm gear, and began walking around. The coast of Nome is connected to the Bering Sea by the Norton Sound. I spent a lot of time walking along the frozen shore. As much as I love the waves of a flowing sea, there’s something hauntingly beautiful about so much water being frozen in time that way. Before moving to Anchorage I had lived in Kotzebue for 15 months, and it was uncanny to me how much Nome reminded me of it! It was a pleasant surprise that I had so many lovely memories come to me as I walked around. One of the many things Kotz taught me was about warm gear. While I remembered how to dress appropriately for below zero temps, apparently I forgot how to navigate the environment. Within an hour of walking on the beach, I accidentally fell into snow up to my knees, banged my right leg on some rocks on the way down, and got a nasty bruise. It wasn't too bad though, plus, what good is a story without a bruise to show for your trouble? ;) The naming of Nome! On a much more pleasant note, while walking around on Sunday, I heard three different theories about how Nome got its name. 1.
Nome's founder (Jafet Lindeberg) might have named it because he lived near a "Nome Valley" in Norway when he was a kiddo.
2.
This is my favorite one! The idea is that a map maker accidentally wrote "? Name" on a map, and later misread it as "C. Nome," for "Cape
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Nome." 3. One of the earliest people settling the area asked a Native Alaskan the name of the place. He or she responded, "no-me," for "I don't know," and the settler mistook this as the place’s name. After an afternoon of taking in the excitement buzzing around, I came back to my room, or as I liked to think of it, “Race Central.” Much to - what I imagine was - the major annoyance of my facebook friends, I posted Iditarod facts and race progress for the rest of the night. I won’t bog you down with every detail, but here were some of the highlights for me. 1. There were a total of 85 mushers out there on the way to Nome. 2. Only 26 of those mushers were women! 3. Of the top five mushers, one of them was a woman, and her name was Aliy Zirkle. 4. I was rooting for Aliy! After a few hours of sorting through race data, I went over to my friend Angel’s house for dinner. In Juneau - in February, 2015 - I was in town to lobby for FASD awareness and funding. At that time I had the privilege of meeting a small army of incredible people. One was Angel. Her house was wonderful: cozy, warm, and full of energy! There were two young daughters, one adult son, her husband, and three happy dogs. While I had joyfully been monitoring the races that day regardless of status - there hadn’t been much activity in many hours. Throughout the day one by one, the top racers had left the checkpoint of “Shaktoolik,” and arrived at the checkpoint of “Koyuk." I was eagerly
awaiting news, and around 8pm I got it. The top three racers were out of Koyuk! Angel’s husband estimated that they would be into Nome before Noon the next day, which was music to my ears! Maybe I’d get to see the mushers come in before I left after all? A few hours deep into stories and laughs at Angel's house, she took me out where we gazed upon one of Nome's epic sunsets. Then back to my room where I settled in for the night. A Change of Plans Monday morning started off bittersweet. I was excited for another day in the very lively Nome, but as I continued to track the progress of the race, it became clear that I wouldn’t get to see any mushers come in before I left that night. The talk around town was that the first musher would make it in between 4:00 am – 8:00 am Tuesday morning. Just for the heck of it, I checked out how pricey it would be to change my flight and stay in Nome one more night. The cost was pretty minimal, so after consulting with my honey back in ANC - who encouraged me to do it - I decided to stay another night. After the logistics were taken care of, I began to plan the day. I had bought a bunch of postcards for friends and family, so I spent a couple hours in the morning writing them out, stamping them, and then dropped them at the post office. Then I wandered around town. I stared at ice sculptures and statues with awe and curiosity. Oh, and of course I had a stranger take an obligatory picture of me in front of the “Welcome to Nome,” sign, which happens to be on the world’s largest gold pan (a shout out to Nome’s history of the gold mining of the 1900s.) From there I popped over to the local tea shop (“Bering Tea.”) While ordering, I heard a very giddy group of women behind
me talking about a variety of things. One of these things was the city of Baltimore. Since I had just accepted a spot in the Social Work Ph.D. program at the University of Maryland, the word "Baltimore" registered highly on my radar. I walked over to the ladies and said, “Excuse me, were one of you just talking about Baltimore?” One of the young women smiled at me and said, “Yeah, it was me. I live there.” “Wow!” I thought, "What a cool coincidence!" I told her how I am planning to move there and asked if she’d be open to keeping in touch. She said she would love to. I put her number and Name (Jen) into my phone and said goodbye. I couldn’t help but think how nice it would be to know someone in my new city who shared the life changing experience of having lived in Alaska. Upon leaving the tea shop, I wandered into the quaint, lovely artisan store attached to Bering Tea. It was full of bright, beautiful colors, and locally made art. Most of it was a little too pricey for me, but one thing caught my eye and was within my budget, so I got it to commemorate the exciting experience.
lunch, we went for a drive and before I knew it, we’d fallen down a rabbit hole of conversation into the history of the Inupiat people in Nome. As we drove, she shared so many incredible things with me, such as that when the gold rush happened, Native Alaskans weren't allowed in town and were pushed out to the East, past Nome River. As with so many other things I’ve learned about this state, it would seem that Nome’s history is rife with bitter sweetness. She told me that this prejudice persisted for decades to come. Our time together gave me a perspective shift and made me want to continue my educational journey into the history of the Native Alaskan people. At the end of our drive, I thanked Marjorie for her time and said goodbye, my mind swirling with all the incredible things she’d shared.
The Heat is ON! I went back to my room and relaxed. I’d forgotten how the simple act of walking around becomes much more intense and complicated with cold temperatures and navigating snow and ice. I hadn't had that experience since living in Kotz. I took a nice, hot shower, and thought about what it must Ms. Marjorie take to endure 9 – 15 days of dog mushing out In my first trip to Nome back in 2013, on the last frontier. Then my mind drifted to I met a wonderful young woman named how much the world has changed since that Marjorie. She is a profound advocate for the “Race of Mercy,” in 1925, or even since the preservation of Inupiat culture. She has first Iditarod race in 1973. The world looks historic Native Alaskan tattoos on her body entirely different. I dried off and checked out and face and she was the Miss Indian the latest race standings. Aliy was now in 4th Universe winner in 2011. A very cool lady place and was into the checkpoint of “White and wealth of knowledge! I had written to her Mountain,” along with 3 of the other 4 “top after I booked the flight to Nome and asked if 5” mushers. she’d like to get together. She said she would. My flight was going to be leaving So we had lunch together on Monday. While I Tuesday morning around 10:00 am, so I most follow her through facebook, we hadn’t talked likely wasn't going to see Aliy come in in person in over two years, so it was nice (shucks!) However, the buzz around town was catching up. As I suspected, she's currently still estimating that the first musher was involved in a slew of exciting things to better expected in between 4:00 am – 8:00 am. I herself and keep her culture growing. After
guessed that after all the excitement I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink before my flight. So I decided to go to sleep early that night and set my alarm for 2:30 am to wake up, go outside, and wait. I was so excited that it was difficult to convince my body to sleep, but eventually, it did. At 2 am - a half hour before my alarm was set to go off - my eyes popped open. I sent a text to Jen and asked what time she planned to head out to wait for the mushers to come in. She alerted me that the timeline had bumped up dramatically and that the first musher was due into Nome within 40 minutes! I got dressed as quickly as I could, grabbed my things, and hit the road. I was all bundled up and was listening to music (because I anticipated being alone out there for a while.) Around 2:30 am I had walked for maybe three minutes when I heard wild, voracious shouting behind me. The finish line was another few minutes away and I'd heard that the fire alarm is supposed to loudly sound when a musher gets close, so it couldn’t be a musher coming in, could it? “What’s with all the yelling?” I wondered. Before I knew it, there was a happy pack of dogs and a man in a sled going right past me. The first musher (Dallas Seavey) had come in! I grabbed my camera as quickly as humanly possible and barely caught him. Adrenaline rapidly coursing through me, I made my way over to the finish line and couldn’t help but have a big smile (underneath my hat and facemask) as saw so many happy faces. After a few minutes for him to settle in, Dallas Seavey - the first musher in – was interviewed. I had heard some negative things about him from locals, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. However, I was pleasantly surprised by his answer to, “Can you talk about what this means?” (to have won the Iditarod,) “Three in a row, four out of the last five? A moment in history!” Dallas responded, “Just another day of
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mushing, man. That’s what we do.” It was cool to see someone so in love with the sport. I was also heartened to learn during the interview that the person in 2nd place was Dallas’ dad, Mitch, and he was due in about a half hour. I felt a little silly for not noticing it sooner, since I’d been checking the stats non-stop for two days. It made me laugh. I walked over further away from the finish line so I could get some better pictures of Mitch arriving than I did of Dallas. While waiting for Mitch to come in I happened to run into Jen and her friends, which was nice. Like the rest of the crowd, they all seemed very happy and excited. Then in what seemed like a blink of an eye, in came Mitch! Then as quickly as he’d come, away he went, speeding to the finish line. I stayed around a while longer, listening to more interviews and talking with people in the crowd. Eventually, I said goodnight to Jen and her friends. By this time, it was around 4:30 am. I walked back to the room, took off my many layers of clothes, and started to defrost. The mushers came in much earlier than I thought they would so I had plenty of time to sleep, but that had been a total rush and sleep was not in my future. So I just hung around, gleefully replaying the events of the previous 24 hours in my mind. I went to the tea shop when it opened at 7:30 am and made my way back to Anchorage on the 9:50 am flight. I sat there in the Alaska Air lobby thinking to myself over and again, “I’m so lucky. I’m so lucky.” Getting to see the mushers come in from the Iditarod had been a dream for three years, and now it was fulfilled. Plus, bonus dream: I got to see the top of Mount Denali on the way home! I’ve been to Denali National Park twice, but as is pictured below, it’s usually too cloudy to see the top from the ground, so that was a rush! I got back to Anchorage Tuesday
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afternoon and walked around dazed. The last couple of days had been so thrilling. It was sad to think that it was over and that I might have seen Nome for the last time. There are many things I plan to do before leaving Alaska. I'm going to explore Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and hike Flattop Mountain in May. I'm going to kayak through glaciers in Valdez and go fishing on the magical Kenai river one last time in June. This might be the end of my Iditarod story, but I suspect all the incredible things I learned and experienced - as well as the people I met in Nome will stay with me forever. Thanks very much for reading.
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From juneau - the state of the budget By Reid Paałuk Magdanz
reidmagdanz@gmail.com
This year’s legislative session(s) have gone on and on and…on and on. The main cause is the state’s unprecedented budget deficit, by far the nation’s largest, brought about mostly by low oil prices. In December, Governor Bill Walker proposed spending cuts, increased taxes, and using the Permanent Fund to fill the deficit. Since then, the legislature has been working from his plan. So what has happened with the budget, and what hasn’t?
what has happened Operating Budget The legislature passed an operating budget! This is the budget that funds schools, the University of Alaska, and state agencies like the courts, Troopers, and Fish and Game. Depending on how exactly you count the money, the legislature cut spending by up to a few hundred million dollars. By passing a budget, the legislature ensured that state government wouldn’t shut down on July 1. The bad news? The legislature filled the budget deficit by using money from the state’s non-renewable savings account, called the Constitutional Budget Reserve, or CBR. Permanent Fund Restructure The state Senate approved using some of the money earned by the Permanent Fund to pay for state government services. This is a necessary step in order to sustainably fill the budget deficit. In order to have money to help fill the deficit, the Senate’s bill changes how PFDs are calculated and reduces their amount. The Senate bill is similar to Governor Walker’s December proposal to use the Permanent Fund.
the bottom line No one knows when the legislative sessions will end this year. It’s hard to know if any of the tax increases will be approved – nearly every one has faced strong opposition. Expect the legislature to continue meeting until an agreement on oil tax credits is reached between Governor Walker, the Senate, and a majority (21 votes) in the House. If that happens, a bill restructuring the Permanent Fund is likely to pass. Also, watch whether the Governor vetoes the oil tax credit bill or parts of the operating budget - his decision could have a major impact. But if no agreement on tax credits is reached, the most likely outcome is that we’ll have $4 billion less in savings when the legislature fights over all this again next year.
what hasn’t happened Permanent Fund Restructure The state House of Representatives has not passed the Senate’s bill restructuring the Permanent Fund. This is largely due to disagreements over the amount of money spent through tax credits on cash payments to oil companies. Governor Walker has called the legislature into a 5th special session, starting July 11. Finding agreement on a Permanent Fund bill – and oil tax credits – will top the agenda. Oil Tax Credit Reform Refundable oil tax credits have been a major point of political conflict this year. Essentially, these are cash payments to large and small oil and gas companies, intended to incentivize discovery and development of oil and gas in Alaska. The Republican-controlled majorities in the House and Senate strongly disagree with a coalition of moderate Republicans and Democrats in the House over how much these cash payments should be reduced. Though a bill has passed the Senate and the House – the latter by a single vote – it remains to be seen whether the Governor will sign the bill (that’s why this is in “hasn’t happened”). Oil tax credit reform and permanent fund restructuring are tied together, because many legislators in the House won’t vote to cut PFDs before cutting tax credits. Taxes As part of his December package to address the budget deficit, Governor Walker proposed re-instating a personal income tax and increasing taxes on commercial fishing, mining, cruise ship visitors, alcohol, tobacco, and gasoline. The legislature has shown very little interest in the income tax, cruise ship tax, alcohol tax, or tobacco tax. While the fishing, mining, and gas taxes have received numerous hearings, neither the House nor the Senate has approved any tax increases.
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Dr. Lincoln
Dr. Meagan Lincoln graduated from the Nova Southeastern University in May and is back in her hometown of Kotzebue, Alaska to open up an eye clinic for Maniilaq Association. While it wasn’t the easiest trail to blaze, Dr. Lincoln admits that it was worth it and she couldn’t have done it without the encouragement from her family, friends, and community. She also wants to recognize the local organizations for the financial support: Maniilaq, NANA, Northwest Arctic Borough, Kotzebue IRA, KIC, and Teck Cominco. After receiving her bachelor’s degree in Psychology from the University of Hawaii at Manoa, she knew that she wanted to continue her education but wasn’t sure what for. So, she went to the student counselor’s office and took different personality tests with the hopes of finding out what the best career choice would be. However, it didn’t help because her personality falls in the middle of most measures. Dr. Lincoln then moved on to look at the bureau of labor statistics webpage which has information on every job, career, outlook, etc. She found that optometry had everything she was looking for in a career. Dr. Lincoln went back to take undergraduate prerequisites at the University of Hawaii Hilo, which took three years to complete. It mainly took so long because of the long chemistry course sequence from pregeneral and general chemistry through organic and biochemistry. The pre-general course was required since chemistry was not offered to her at Kotzebue High School. Finally, after receiving her bachelor’s degree and spending another three years finishing prerequisites, she got accepted into the doctor of optometry program which would then take her another four years. “One thing that was discouraging for me at the time I was considering becoming an optometrist was how much longer I had to go to school.” She says, “I would say to not let that be discouraging, time really does fly and it’s worth it in the end.” Dr. Lincoln also notes that it’s important to learn time efficient study skills in undergraduate school because it is not easy adjusting your study habits on the spot when you get to graduate school. “There were times when I ordered groceries on
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Comes Home
Amazon to be delivered to my door thinking it would save me time in the day, you know.” While in school at Hilo, Dr. Lincoln shadowed and worked as an optometric technician for two optometrists in private practice which helped her during the first few years of optometry school. The doctor of optometry program also required a mini Master’s of Business Administration that teaches students the basics of practice management. Through a student club, she was able to participate in a mission trip to Peru during her first year of optometry school. They gave eye exams to 1300 people in 3-4 days. She also consulted with her mentors a lot through the past few years because she knew her plan was to return home to open the eye clinic. Dr. Lincoln will provide full optometric services from glasses and contact lenses prescriptions to the treatment of ocular disease. She will be doing some village travel, but she will not be able to cover all the villages on her own. “It’s important to have annual eye exams with dilation to assess the ocular health, not just the glasses prescription.” Dr. Lincoln states. “Some of the most blinding diseases are sneaky in that the patient will be asymptomatic until significant vision loss has occurred as the brain may fill in missing areas of vision in early stages.” Dr. Lincoln is spending the summer preparing the eye clinic to be ready for business in August. “Other than that, not much elese besides enjoying my time at home.” She says. “I missed the peaceful, simple way of life up here. It’s good to see everyone. Good to be home.”
These local organizations also have available scholarships. Visit their websites or call their offices for more information on deadlines.
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We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poety because we are memebers of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!.. of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the fooles; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be? Dead Poets Society (1989)
-Jack Kerouac
Dancing
by Kiminaq
Our dancing represents our people. Strong dancing means strong people. Strong people mean strong identity. Strong identity means strong soul. Our souls, our namesakes were once Alive. Active. Independent. Strong. Smart. Well. Healthy. Knowledgable. Today our dancing is weak. Weak dancing means weak people. Weak people mean weak identity. Weak identity means weak soul. Reflects a weak community. Today some of our souls are dormant. Inactive. Dependent. Weak. Although this is our reality We have threads of strong, smart, active souls bursting through the dark. With these threads bursting through, we can make it. Our people can. We can all be strong together. We just need to reach down to our ancestors and they will pull us up pull us out of the dark and bring us back to life. A strong life. Then we will see only strong dancers with strong souls.
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Interview with
Noatak, AK July 2015 Provided By Aqukkasuk Tim Argetsinger
Kuukpaŋmi Barrow-miñ aullaqapta iñuuniałiq qaġanaŋitchuq. In Kuukpak, when we left Barrow life was not easy. Naluaġmiuŋitmiuq. Naluaġmiunik piitchuq iñuuniaġvikput. There were also no white people. There were no white people in the place where we lived. Taimma atautchimi qaurimiigutlu immaguuq taniguraq aggiqsuq. There was one time we heard as we were growing up that a white person arrived. Iriqhuta tableat ataatnun tabluuraqapayuŋniqsugut kiima qaŋatuaraqtuanik. We hid under the table- we somehow happened to have a table that was off the floor. Jonahlu brotherġa nukatchiaġa iriqtuguk iqsiplunuk ataŋ naluġmiuŋitchuq. My younger brother Jonah and I hid because we were scared, there being no white people.
Aarigaa supayauramik iñuuniałiq qaġanaŋitchuq. Life was good but hard.
Iñuuniahuta apai navraaqaqtuq utuqqaqtanik iñuuniaġvikput. Where we lived there were a lot of old relics. Inattuaġiragigivut piuraaġigivut. We always used them as toys and played with them. Iñuuniaqapta tatqavani sunauvva makua manigutlaruat. We didn’t’t know they could turn into money where we lived up there. Mani, spearat, nauligat, uluqpaich, kaugutit jadeat, utuqqaqtat tupiġruani. Money, spears, seal harpoons, big women’s knives, jade hammers, old relics in old houses. Pakaurahuta inattuaġiragigivut. We would look for them and use them to play with. Suli kuugauraq tatpavakŋa saġvaqtuaq kaviqsaanik uyaġalik sunauvva maniich. Also there was a creek that flowed from up that way with red rocks- that was money. Tainna uqautigaatŋa tatqavakŋaqtuam Arnold Browerm uqautikamiŋa. That’s what Arnold Brower told me, who came from up that way. Maniguqtutguuq. He said they turned into money. Taipkua piuraaġisuukkavuut uqaqtuq. The ones we used to play with- he said. Uqautipmaŋa piiga pitka taimma uvaŋa. When he told me, I said those were mine.
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1930-kiaq ikaahuta Barrowmun. Around 1930 we crossed [the river] to Barrow. Barrowmiñ aasiiñ North Star-kun utiqhuta aivluta Kivalina-mun. And from Barrow we left by the North Star and went back home to Kivalina. Kivalinamun utiqhutik aŋayuqaaka. Our parents went back to Kivalina. Tavrani iñuuniaġaluaqamik aglapiaŋitmaruagut. We lived there for a while- not attending school much. Aasiiñ qunŋiḷaahaġulgitchuq. Then he became a reindeer herder Quŋiḷaahaupluta niviaqsiaġuqłuŋa qavani iñuuniaqapta atiqapta unirrauraaqhuta We were reindeer herders- I became a young lady up there where we lived…And when we went down to spring camp with reindeer pulling us.
Nagliksaaqhutiŋ taipkua qaurivut iñuuniaqtut. They had a hard time living when we were growing up, that’s how we lived. Pagmapak aasiiñ supayaaq qaġanaqsiviatluni And nowadays everything has become so easy. Simmiqsuq aglaan tusaasuukkaqput utuqqanaaniñ tusaasimapmigiga. Everything has changed that we used to hear from the elders, I have heard it myself. Niqimigguuq tuniiqqaiyumiñaitchugut. Naggaqaa aullagauravut tuniyumiñaitkivut. We are not to sell food. Or our hunting gear, we are not to sell. Qimmivut, uniavut, umiavut, umiasi tuniyumiñaitkisi. Our dogs, our sleds, our boats- do not sell your boats.
Unirraqłuŋa unirruatika aullauraqtuk. I used a couple reindeer to pull me –my reindeer would move about.
Itnaġaqtut tamarra pagmapak saupayaaq simmiqpiatluni uqautigikkaŋaat aglaan. This is what they said; everything has changed, what our elders spoke about.
Taamma sumik iqsiruk sumik taimma tupaktuk. They appeared to be scared and were startled.
Tamanna true-ŋuruq utuqqanaat ‘respect your elders’. That is true- our elders – ’respect your elders’.
Unirrauraaqłuŋa qiviallaktiqama sua amna uniaġaqtuaq. While I was riding with the reindeer pulling me I glanced back to see a dog team.
Utuqqanaanun akiqaġuta savaqulaitmigaatigut. They told us not to charge when we help the elders.
Qimmiŋiñ pitchaġnigiak unirrautika kisuutilaaŋa nalupmigiga. His dogs charged at my reindeer and I did not know who he was.
Tamarra saugaġigaatigut naaggaqaa ilaqanikkaluaqata nayuqtiqaqtuksrauŋitchugut. They would scold us and we were not to stay with someone without getting married.
Nutqaġniaŋitchuŋa tuanuŋa taġium siñaanun pituġaqtiŋuluktuŋa. I was not about to stop so I headed towards the beach. Ammaptauq kinatakkaluaqmiuq. It sounded like he was braking also. Qimmiŋi piyuumichallapiaqtut. His dogs were ready to do whatever. Sunauvva Floyd Wesley, Maasak sunauvvauna uiksrautiga itnaġuuruq. Here it was Floyd Wesley, Maasak and he was to become my husband he would say. Qimmiŋiñguuq naivluŋa nuliaksraŋanik paqirrutikkaŋaa He jested and said his dogs caught a scent of me and found a wife for
Qitunġiiqtuksrauŋitchugut tamarra uqaŋat pagmapak aasiiñ ‘don’t care’ iḷirut. We are not to have children- that was our elders’ talk- now there is a ‘don’t care’ attitude. Aglaktuat unniiñ qiñiqtuni qitunġiraqtut aglaŋaġmiŋ. Even when you see students, they would have children while in school. Qanutun aŋayuqaavut strictŋurut. How strict our parents were. Strictŋullapiahutiŋ strictŋurut. Very, very strict. Sikaaġniuraġnaitmiut. We couldn’t smoke cigarettes.
Taikuu agaayutim munagipluŋa itnatun aglaan. Thank God He watched over me this far. 36 of 52
Itqutrillaitmiugut aŋutinik itqullaitmiugaatigut katiŋaitkupta. We couldn’t bring in men unless we were married. Tamarra taluqsrauraġniaġaqtugut. We would be afraid not to obey. Aglaan pakmapak iñuuniałiq atlaŋuqtuq. Today our way of life has changed.
Sakuugatapiaqhutiŋ pakmapak taimani qaugriiraqapta pisukataaqhutiŋ niksigiaqhutiŋ. They worked very hard- in those days when we started to become aware they used to walk.
“Tuanuŋa ivuniġnun agaayuyaqtuaġiñ!” “Go down to the icebergs and go pray!”
Kiisaimmaa niksigaitlasivugut. We finally were able to go ice hooking.
“Uvuŋaa?” “Naagga taunuŋalluk” – ivunġitch qiñiqamigich taunna. “Here?” “No, further down”—that’s when he saw the ice bergs down there.
Pisukatahuta. No ride. No Honda. No snow machine. Walking. No ride. No Honda. No snow machine.
“Uvuŋŋaa?” "Ki! Agaayuiñ!” “Here?” “Go ahead! Pray!”
Uniaġauraqhutiŋ aglaan. They only dog-teamed.
Uvlupaguuq agaayulġataqtuq. He said he prayed all day long.
Pakmapak aasiiñ nutaaġikkavut itna inġiqsut. Nowadays our younger people are not like that Food Stampmik kisainik niġiuliqamiŋ savaŋniuraŋitmiuq. They only wait for their food stamps and don’t try to work. Iḷiraqsiuġutipkauraaqhutiŋ iñuunialiqsut pakmapak. They allow people to collect food for them today. Taimani uvagut itnaŋitchugut suiḷiullapiaġataqhuta. Those days we didn’t’t do that- we didn’t’t have anything at all. Qauġrirugut suitchugut manitchugut. We became aware not having anything- no money. Pakmapak electrigaaliqmata uvva qaġanaqsiruq. Today when there’s electricity, life is easier.
Tavra iḷumutuuruq taamna. That is true. Trueŋuruq, it’s a true story, what I hear from my dad. It’s true, it’s a true story, what I heard from my dad. Agaayulġataqtuq, uvlupak agaayupluni sitquuk imma augutilġataqpalukkaa. He prayed all day until his knees became wet. Aimiaqman agaayutimguuq niplitigaa. When he said amen, the Lord spoke to him. Upinġaapak Qikiqtaġruŋmun aullaġisirutin umiaŋuraitmiuq. This summer you will go to Kotzebue—he had no boat at all.
Naggaqaa machineanik igliġaliqmata qaġanaqsiruq iñuuniałiq. When people started having machines to travel in, life is easier.
Patchisigiŋitkaa aŋiqtuq. But he didn’t use that as an excuse- he said yes.
Aglaan taitnałhaiñaq itchumiñaitmiuq. But it’s not always going to be that way.
Tavra igliġviksraqaqhuni taavuŋautigaatigut. He had a way to go and we went.
Taimma iñuuniałiq qaġanaqsisaiñaġuni inġitchuq suli. Our life is not getting easier also. Sakiqnaqsiḷġataqtuq iñuuniałiq. Life has become very hard to live with. Utuqqanaanie tusaakkaqput tamarra atuummiruq. What we heard from elders is happening. Kiisaimma Kivalinamun utiqapta papaga nipliqsuq. When we went back to Kivalina, my dad said. Agaayutiksraqami sunauvva That’s when he became a Christian. Agaayutimguuq tiligaa… He said the Lord told him…
Iġliġviksraqaqput agilgitchuq. Our transportation came. Tavra tavrani uqaqtinun iḷigaat sunauvva savaaksraŋanun. That is when they put him as a pastor- and that was to be his work. Pastaġuqhuni kukiḷuaqsiruk. He became a pastor and started travelling. Taimma tiliruakamiŋ aullaġaqtut. When they are sent, they would go. Ukunuŋa boardanun naalaġniurut qanuq suknamun tilipmatiŋ aullaġaqtut. They are listening to the (AYM) board and wherever they are sent they would go. Aŋayuqaagikkavut tuqunailiqmiknun aglaan. Our parents were ready to die.
Aarigaa, iñuuniaqtuni nakuuruq pagmapak. Aarigaa, It’s good to live nowadays.
Savaaġigaat qanutun kamaksrivat taluqsrivat agaayutmik. That was their work- how much respect and honor they had for God.
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Elizabeth with Tessa Baldwin at the White House Tribal Youth Gathering
Elizabeth with Miss Teen Arctic Circle Jade Lambert after the welcoming parade
Elizabeth with the other contestants at the Miss World Eskimo Indian Olympics (WEIO) pageant
Elizabeth crowned as Miss WEIO.
Elizabeth with the Qikiqtagruk Inupiaq Youth Council before they met with President Obama
“I’d say looking back a year later, and having competed in two additional pageants, I have really come a long way.” - Elizabeth Niiqsik Ferguson
A lot can happen to a person in one year, especially for a person who represents the Northwest Arctic region as Miss Arctic Circle. Last Independence Day, I was crowned the 2015 Miss Arctic Circle. A title like this isn’t just given, it is earned. There was a lot that I needed to do in oder to prove that I deserved the crown. Not only are there judged categories, but there is also the emotional stress and challenges that I needed to overcome. When I first considered running for Miss Arctic Circle, I was reluctant for various reasons. Often times, I just thought “I don’t have what it takes, I don’t have the talent or the traditional knowledge to compete in this type of thing.” I felt like I had nothing to offer that would make me stand out or even have a fighting chance. I wasn’t sure how I could represent myself, the People of Sisualik, and my family when I didn’t even believe in myself, but with the support of my family, a handful of mentors, and friends, I was able to pull everything together in order to successfully compete. I’d say looking back a year later, and having competed in two additional pageants, I have really come a long way. One of the biggest hurdles I needed to overcome was public speaking. During the pageant, after being crowned, and representing the title, I did a lot of speaking and presenting at different events. I am very thankful for having the opportunities to improve my public speaking skills because I know it is a valuable skill that will always come in handy for the rest of my life. I know that the next Miss Arctic Circle will have the chances to grow in this way, too. Not only was I challenged with being able to convey my thoughts confidently, I was challenged to push myself to learn more about my culture and heritage. In being Miss Arctic Circle, there was a level of expectations as far as cultural knowledge. I was to introduce myself in Inupiaq; including my name, where I am from, and who my parents and grandparents are. I was expected to have informed and educated opinions on the cultural and social issues that my Tribe and People faced, I needed to live by our Inupiat Ilitqusait, and to generally always wear some type of traditional clothing while representing the Crown. When initially it might have felt like just an obligation, now it feels natural and I am proud that all of these cultural aspects are a part of my everyday life.
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Frankly, though, sometimes it wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies. I did face some truly trying challenges during the competition, but the year to follow after being crowned came with its own challenges. My schedule was busy, I needed to uphold a certain image, and I felt like I couldn’t ever disappoint somebody; worried that they might think I was the wrong person to win the title. Sometimes it was exhausting, sometimes I was worried that I would make one mistake and all I worked for would be taken away from me. If it weren’t for the community I live in and the people I surrounded myself with, I couldn’t have gotten through the year. I would have selfdestructed somewhere along the way. There were times when I needed to represent myself in a way for a certain publication or interview, but honestly, I was stressed and a worried mess. I learned, finally, that all my worries of feeling like I wouldn’t meet peoples’ expectations stemmed from my own self insecurities. I needed to learn how to love myself and be proud of myself for this great accomplishment. The year I had was in every single way amazing, but I will acknowledge the personal struggle that I had to deal with. To the contestants of the 2016 Miss Arctic Circle Pageant and to the next Miss Arctic Circle, keep your head up and keep shining! You might feel defeated or scared, but reach out to your family or community, because that little voice in your head saying that you’ve got no one in your corner is wrong. Each of you represent a long line of brave, strong, and beautiful indigenous women who put themselves under a microscope in hopes of winning a title. It takes strength to run for Miss Arctic Circle. So, as I prepare to hand down my crown, I remember the struggles of the year I had to face and overcome. I remember the ups and downs. I am forever thankful for the opportunities I had this last year to grow as a person. My life will forever be changed because I am a better, stronger person than I was last year. In just a few days, another girl will experience the same opportunities and struggles I faced, but I pray the community, her family, and her friends will guide her like mine did me. To the next Miss Arctic Circle, know you’ve got someone in your cornerI’l be there cheering you on the entire way.
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aakatchaq
aakatchaq
Living Strong By Maija Katak Lukin I've been gone for a while. A long, long while. Lots of things have happened since I've been gone. Lots of not-fun things. People have died. Friends, uncles, co-workers. Diagnosis’ were made. Doctors’ visits have multiplied. 911 calls have multiplied. Families have been torn apart. It's not been the greatest month. But, no matter the tragedy, life does go on. You wake up, if you're lucky, if it's God's will and you go to work. You make dinner. You feed your dog. You hug your kids. You go to bed. You attend funerals. You go to doctors’ appointments. And do it all over again the next day. Sometimes you can't sleep. Sometimes you want to cry. So you cry in bed where no one can see you. And life still goes on around you. Kids still need to be taken care of. Fish still need to be caught. Seals still need to be cut up. Berries and greens still need to be picked. Work still needs to be done. You still need to pay your cable bill, even though no one has turned the TV on for two months. We have gone through the toughest time of our lives this past month, myself, my friends, my family. The world going on hyper speed, while they slowly make their way around. Fast Forward is pressed around us. You see them at the store, buying groceries to make their children dinner. You see them checking their mail. You see them going to church. You see them on Facebook. You see them staring at a candy bar because it was their son’s favorite. Because life has to move forward. So you take your kids and grandkids to fish camp. You sleep in the back of a truck on hard blankets. You stay up until 3:30 am watching the fish wheel. You teach your daughter how to correctly butterfly fillet a Salmon with an ulu. You get thousands of bug bites. You catch several King Salmon. You cut lots of ugruk. You teach your brother how to harpoon at close range so you don’t lose the seal. You make your niece a left handed ulu, because she needs to learn too. You even scream at the nuviivak eggs you have to scrape off the blackmeat, and giggle at how wimpy you’ve become. Because laughter is the best medicine after prayer. And then you put your fish and seal away for the rest of the year. You watch your grandkids joy as their eyes light up by walking in water. You watch your daughter claim "king of the hill." You take your kids inner tubing, because that's what their dad would do. You look at the life you’ve created and wonder if in an instant it will all be taken away, but he doesn’t dwell, so you don’t dwell. You take all your fish to your best friends funeral because that's what he would have done for you. You take care of their kids and hug them tight. Then you hug your own kids tight. And you pray. Then you visit your parents because after so many deaths in such a small region, you feel awfully mortal. But, the kids make everything OK. They have the time of their lives. Even without running water and forced to use an outhouse. Because they see joy in everything around them. They giggle, “a butterfly landed on me!” They laugh because their garden is growing simply by adding water to it every day. They laugh when you trip over the roots and they cry when you leave. And slowly, you realize that it will be ok. Not perfect, but ok. So life goes on. But you still cry. And your friends grieve for you. And that's OK. We want you to cry. We want to cry with you. We want to hug you. We want to drink wine with you and let you reminisce about your son/daughter/friend/uncle/ husband/nephew/cousin/co-worker/grandmother. We want to see you laugh again. So you do. And so do I. We laugh together. We cry together. We live strong together.
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Through time, tales both oral and written have immortalized America's last wilderness. Editor Wayne Mergler scoured Alaska's literary tradition for the best writing the state has to offer, and did not come up empty-handed. From the Native legends of the Creation, to Jack London's stirring stories of frontier survival, to John Haines's more contemporary reflections on homesteading, The Last New Land gathers a rich and comprehensive sampling of fiction, nonfiction and poetry about the Northland. Recommended by Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, and Booklist.
(Descriptions from Amazon.com)
Born in 1960, the sixth of thirteen children, Velma Wallis comes of age in a two-room log cabin in remote Fort Yukon, Alaska. Life is defined by the business of living off the land. Chopping wood. Hauling water from the river. Hunting moose. Catching salmon. Trapping fur. Taking care of the dogs. For a thousand years, the Gwich'in clan had followed migratory animals across the north. But two generations before, the people had settled where the Porcupine River flows into the Yukon. Now, the Wallis family has a post office box and an account at the general store, and Velma listens to Wolf Man Jack on armed forces radio. The author discovers that her people have surrendered their language, traditional values, and religion to white teachers, traders, and missionaries. Flu epidemics have claimed many loved ones. Village elders seem like strangers from another land, and in a way they are. There is much drinking when the monthly government checks come, and that is when the pain comes out of hiding. Written by the author of the international bestseller "Two Old Women," this memoir yields a gritty, sobering, yet irresistible story filled with laughter even as generations of Gwich'in grief seeps from past to present. But hope pushes back hopelessness, and a new strength and wisdom emerge.
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Fourteen-year-old Trixie Stone is in love for the first time. She's also the light of her father, Daniel's life -- a straight-A student; a pretty, popular freshman in high school; a girl who's always seen her father as a hero. That is, until her world is turned upside down with a single act of violence. Suddenly everything Trixie has believed about her family -- and herself -- seems to be a lie. Could the boyfriend who once made Trixie wild with happiness have been the one to end her childhood forever? She says that he is, and that is all it takes to make Daniel, a seemingly mild-mannered comic book artist with a secret tumultuous past he has hidden even from his family, venture to hell and back to protect his daughter. With The Tenth Circle, Jodi Picoult offers her most powerful chronicle yet as she explores the unbreakable bond between parent and child, and questions whether you can reinvent yourself in the course of a lifetime -or if your mistakes are carried forever.
In the tradition of Jack London, Seth Kantner presents an Alaska far removed from majestic clichés of exotic travelogues and picture postcards. Kantner’s vivid and poetic prose lets readers experience Cutuk Hawcly’s life on the Alaskan plains through the character’s own words — feeling the pliers pinch of cold and hunkering in an igloo in blinding blizzards. Always in Cutuk’s mind are his father Ab,; the legendary hunter Enuk Wolfglove, and the wolves — all living out lives on the unforgiving tundra. Jeered and pummeled by native children because he is white, Cutuk becomes a marginal participant in village life, caught between cultures. After an accident for which he is responsible, he faces a decision that could radically change his life. Like his young hero, Seth Kantner grew up in a sod igloo in the Alaska, and his experiences of wearing mukluks before they were fashionable, eating boiled caribou pelvis, and communing with the native tribes add depth and power to this acclaimed narrative.
At Howard Rock's birth, a shaman predicted that he would become a great man. Born in 1911 in a sod igloo in Point Hope, an ancient Eskimo village, Howard became an accomplished artist and crusading newspaper editor who helped to defend his people from a controversial Atomic Energy Commission proposal to excavate a harbor near his native village with an atomic blast. Art and Eskimo Power chronicles the life of this influential and artist, editor, and founder of the Tundra Times—under whose leadership the newspaper helped to organize Alaska’s native people to press their aboriginal land claims before Congress, which ultimately led to their being awarded over $1 billion and 40 million acres. Brown collected these legends of the Eskimos of the shores of the Bering Sea coast and contributed her own touches and tales, as storytellers have always done. Her stories are a window into another time, offering a special view of the thousands of years of her ancestors' culture.
In the vast, roadless expanse of the Far North, the art of story-telling has thrived for many generations, as it does in PURELY ALASKA, a diversely drawn anthology and winner of a "best regional book" award in 2012 from Foreword magazine. Men and women share harrowing survival tales, hunting and fishing adventures, and stories about love, lifestyles, and the hopes and dreams of independent people in faraway places throughout Alaska. The work was edited by Susan Andrews and John Creed, both professors at Chukchi College in Kotzebue, Alaska. Contributors include Robert Andrews, Haines; Iva Baker, Kotzebue; Nancy Berkey, Sedro-Wooley, Washington; Albert Bowling, Anchorage; Ethel “Katie” Qalingak Cruthers, Kotzebue; Lucy Nuqarrluk Daniels, Golovin, Alaska; Robert A. Dillon; Burton William Siliamii Haviland Jr., Kotzebue; Kathryn Ann Lenninger, Fairbanks; Marcus Miller, Haines; Joli Morgan, Bethel; Wilma Payne, Pueblo, Colorado; Steven W. Pilz, Wisconsin; Gina Marie Pope, Bristol Bay region; Karl Puckett, Great Falls, Montana; Amy S. Reisland-Speer, Healy; Emma Snyder, Kotzebue; Stephen J. Werle, Noatak; Sonja Whitethorn, Petersburg; and Terrence B. Wilson. “Here’s a fascinating guided tour of the real Bush Alaska, not the prettified version we see in tourist brochures. Here we meet the good and the bad, the happy and the sad…”--Stan Jones, author of Village of the Ghost Bears
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Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say, It’s in the reach of my arms, The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me. I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees. I say, It’s the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me. Men themselves have wondered What they see in me. They try so much But they can’t touch My inner mystery. When I try to show them, They say they still can’t see. I say, It’s in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me. Now you understand Just why my head’s not bowed. I don’t shout or jump about Or have to talk real loud. When you see me passing, It ought to make you proud. I say, It’s in the click of my heels, The bend of my hair, the palm of my hand, The need for my care. ’Cause I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, -Maya Angelou That’s me.
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7 Simple Steps to Ease Anxiety Without A Pill by Cyndi Roberts (elephantjournal.com) Breathing is free. Breathing is what keeps us alive. The quality of our breath reflects the quality of our life. Shallow, unconscious breaths kept me trapped in a tense, anxious cycle for years. Long, deep, conscious breaths bring me ease and stress relief. It wasn’t until I started to become aware of breathing that I learned how to use it to heal. Doctors had me believe that I could find relief in a pill and for twelve, dark, tense years, I believed them. Many of my clients with anxiety ask how I was able to get myself from point A to point B. Point A was a life with daily panic attacks and crippling anxiety so bad that I couldn’t leave the house. Point B is a life with reduced stress, an easy, positive attitude, and without anxiety altogether. I make it very clear to my clients that the transition didn’t happen overnight and took incredible willingness to stare anxiety in the face. It was something that took practice, time, determination and hard work. Sure, a pill will sedate you after the twenty or so minutes it takes to get into your blood stream. But does your anxiety really go away? Or, is it just masked by sleepiness? Looking back, I feel as though anti-anxiety meds rewarded me with a nap, never really bringing me relief. This is what I did to overcome these intense emotions, and what I continue to do to manage normal nervousness before it spirals into full-blown anxiety:
Step One: Acknowledge that the anxiety is there. Simply bring the light of awareness to your intense feeling. Shine that light so brightly on it that it has nowhere to run. Look at it. Locate it in the body, if you can. As difficult as it may be, try not to let the mind figure it out and think about it. Instead, feel it. Give it a color or shape. Acknowledge that as uncomfortable as it may be, it is in you.
Step Two: Allow it to be exactly as it is. After you acknowledge that anxiety is with you, allow it to be there fully. Surrender the desire to push it away. Ask yourself, “What happens if I feel this?” Become a witness and get curious about what it feels like. Allow anxiety to fill you up, even though you feel tremendously uncomfortable. The best way out is through.
Step Three: Accept the situation with all its intensity. Bring to mind that anxiety is here because it needs to be. For some reason, you are currently using anxiety to cope. Your mind and body feel they need anxiety, for whatever the reason. Right now, because it is here, anxiety is serving you. Invite it in and allow it to be within you. If you are at the point where you find yourself desperately wanting to change it, it’s the perfect time to sit with it and accept it, so you can move through it.
Step Four: Breathe into it. Focus all of your attention on breathing, consciously becoming aware of what breathing feels like, rather than focusing on the thoughts running wild in your head. You are in control of not only your health, but what you focus on. Notice if breaths are shallow (which will make you more anxious) or if your breaths are long and deep (which will bring you relief). Close your eyes and feel where the breath is in the body as every inhale and exhale flows. Feel free to bring your hands to your chest or belly to help guide the awareness there. Longer and deeper breaths will signal the nervous system to calm down. These breaths will turn off “fight or flight”—which is what you are trapped in—and bring in relief.
Step Five: Keep yourself in the present moment. Often, anxiety comes on as the mind plays those “what-if” scenarios over and over, bringing in fear. At the core, we fear injury or death, for our loved ones or ourselves. Forget the why and just notice what is there for you in that moment. Ask yourself, “What is here for me now?” Observe your environment through your senses and connect inward to body sensations. For example, feel your feet on the ground or hands resting on your legs. Feel your breath, feel the intensity. If the surrounding environment is creating more anxiety, ask yourself if you can change or accept the situation. If you can change it, do so and if not, accept it. Find a way to self-soothe; find comfort in discomfort. Making room for both will allow discomfort to begin to dissipate. Step Six: Stick with it. Ignore the story that may be running in your head about how this isn’t working. Continue to slow down your breath and accept what is around you. Don’t believe everything you think and come back to feeling, no matter how much of a struggle it may feel like. If your awareness wanders a hundred times, bring it back a hundred times. Notice. Learn. Create a new habit. Grow stronger. Create lasting change.
Step Seven: Let go. Just as waves of the oceans ebb and flow, so must emotions during this human experience. Allow your anxiety to ebb and flow, to crest and recede, just like a wave. Release it after you feel it. Let it come in and flow back out. Because anxiety has been serving you, it may be difficult to let it go. Notice if you have a tendency to cling to this emotion, and believe that it defines who you are. It’s not wrong or uncommon to feel this, especially if anxiety has been with you for a long time. The simple truth is: anxiety, like all intense emotions, naturally comes and goes. Our ability to let it go and release it soothes our suffering and gives us the opportunity to settle into that lasting change and freedom we are so desperately seeking. We find courage and strength with every exhale that we use to release anxiety and fear. It may not be easy, but it will be worth it. Often, letting go takes more courage than holding on.
Springtime in Northwest Alaska is one of my most favorite times of the year, next to caribou hunting season in the fall. Actually, it’s quite difficult to choose which is best because they are all fun and each are unique. Except, I don’t enjoy berry picking in the fall. I’ve never picked one gallon of berries in my whole entire life and I’m darn near 50! I didn’t get into ice fishing until I had my first four children. Each year, the Lion’s Club would host an annual shee-fish derby in Kotzebue; it was a day full of family, friends, and tons of fun. One year, just a few months after Jacqui turned 2, we went out past the Kobuk Lake trail to fish on derby day. Donnie Smith caught a HUGE fish just behind me and yelled. I turned around to see and jumped up; Jacqui also jumped up and ran towards me but fell right into my fishing hole. Everyone jumped up and screamed. Her arms are what saved her from going all the way in the hole. I immediately stripped her wet clothes off to put her in a sleeping bag and redressed her with dry clothes. It was quite the adventure. I wonder if she likes ice fishing now? It would be sad if that experience changed her mind about ice fishing; like when David changed his mind about mustard. That’s for another recipe though, maybe when I write one on beluga. There are many ways of preparing sii, or shee-fish. My favorite is pulling it out of the freezer, cutting it into frozen bite size chucks, and dipping it into uqsruq with a sprinkle of salt. Now that I live in urban Alaska, I have to rely on friends and family to send me some sii. Maija is the most reliable one to do that. Even Guy-Guy. I can count on him, too. To make room in your freezer for your spring and summer fishing, it’s best to cut your fish into filets and vacuum seal them. Pull out a filet from the freezer before heading to school or work so it can thaw fully. If you forget in the morning, you might as well eat it frozen, just like I shared above. Once you get home and your sii is fully thawed, add salt and pepper to it and put it in the oven. No matter how many recipes you read, the most common baking temperature is 350 degrees. Fish doesn’t take long to bake. It doesn’t take an hour, that’s for sure. Just keep an eye on it. 20-30 minutes is about the perfect time to check, depending on the size or thickness of your filet. When it’s done, pull it out of the oven and let it sit for 10-15 minutes to bring back the natural juices. Don’t uncover until it’s ready to serve. My favorite topping is mango salsa (hence the title, Mango Sii Fish) You peel (with a potato peeler. Why it’s a potato peeler is beyond me because we use it for whatever we want) 3-4 mangos. Slice and dice then place into a medium sized bowl. Make sure your dices are small, like 1/8 of an inch. The rest of your ingredients should be about the same size, too. You add a small red onion next (but in previous recipes, I tell you they are actually purple) or add half of a large one. Plus, add in two avocados and two fresh jalapeños. The jalapeños will be a bit spicy if you leave the seeds in but if you remove them, you won’t necessarily know they are jalapeños (and why are they even in there? I don’t have the answer but it tastes so good). Finally, you take one lime and squeeze the juice over the salsa then discard the lime. Mix the mango salsa and add salt to taste. Don’t question why salt… Just do it. Stir it around and if you need, you should add some more salt. You will know when you’ve added just the right amount, taste taste taste. Never serve on paper plates.
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University of California San Diego Teressa Baldwin
Gonzaga University School of Law Pamela Smith
UAF Chukchi Campus Jody Hatch, Marceline Lee, Dianne Okleasik, and Cushla Thompson.
Marquette University School of Dentistry Zazell Staheli
Stanford University Zoe Taylor Merculieff
Univeristy of Washington Grant Magdanz 51 of 52
photo provided by Don Henry
IĂąupiat Ilitqusiat Knowledge of Language Knowledge of Family Tree Sharing Humility Respect for Others Love for Children Cooperation Hardwork Respect for Elders Respect for Nature Avoid Conflict Family Roles Humor Spirituality Domestic Skills Hunter Success Responsibility to Tribe