Leaving Chewy

July 30th, 2012

It's around 1:00 am and I am in the office in Anchorage. I'm feeling a bit disoriented and exhausted being back. It is so strange to go from one reality to another. We had two intense days of traveling and seeing people and finishing up the program. We had a long day of meetings and paperwork and hearing about others peoples experiences, some of which made me green with envy. On the other hand as Amy has said to me in the past, "Those are their experiences, these are ours." There is so much I wouldn't have wanted to miss. Saying goodbye to Amy last night as her husband picked her up was hard. Teri and I stayed up talking with Emily till midnight last night and Teri left this morning to meet up with her son. So here I am getting ready to leave for Denali.
 

On the last week, in addition to the camping trip we had a sleepover with the younger kids. We wanted to divide them up so that each of the kids would get more individual attention. We did it upstairs in the city building at night which was great as we could make as much noise as possible. Each of the children showed up all excited with their pillows and blankets or sleeping bags. We played twister, zombie tag, capture the flag and the bomb which was a big hit. You pass around a balloon to each of the kids trying to keep it up in the air and if it gets dropped it 'explodes'. I think that's the part they like the best - when it exploded.  We hung up the parachute and pretended it was a tent and they all wanted to sleep under it. Steven, a six year old chubby cheeked boy with a Mohawk, wanted to sleep next to Amy, which was sweet. I slept next to Stephanie and Deshaun, a big boy for his age - he looked older then seven- but a sweet demeanor and well like by everyone. In the middle of the night he woke up missing his mom and snuggled by me. I rubbed his back and he went back to sleep.

In the morning Amy made tie dye pancakes. The kids love them as they put food coloring on top of them and make their own design. Steven had a habit of saying, "I need help, I need help." for the most simplest of tasks and he was asking me now to cut his pancake. Not very good in the morning I was being grumpy to him while his sister Stephanie said, "Brother, you can do it yourself." Of course Stephanie would cry on a dime about anything but they were also enthusiastic about playing all the games and Stpehanie was a great artist who at seven years old told me she wanted to be a doctor in New York when she grew up. Their mom was very involved with them which impressed me and their dog Cujo was sweet and strange looking.

On the day before we left we made boats out of ice cream sticks and took them down to the water to race in the stream. Everyone became interested and creative in doing it. We took them down by the water and raced and it was interesting to see the different designs that worked. Troy, a very hyper but adorable boy, seemed to be the best at it and it was good to see him concentrate on something as he didn't do that often. I had met a radio reporter at the city building who helped me take down the lunch food to the river and he interviewed many of the kids there. We had offered everyone swimming as it was the last time we would do so but Troy was the only one to go in the water. Each kid was talking to the reporters big microphone and fascinated by it. We went up later and gave out the games to the kids. That night, knowing how much Troy wanted the life jacket (he had asked for it over and over) Amy and I walked over and gave it to him.
 

So many memories from the experience envelope me now. The village itself. It was set on the hillside in front of the Kuskokwim River. Behind us were the Russian Mountains and the hills were still covered with spongy tundra but also with many, many skinny pine trees and other greenery. There were shades of blue green and brown and a bright green grass covering the spongy earth of the tundra mosses. I loved to walk on it and bounce. The view out our cabin window - pine trees, gray green, wheat like tall grasses and lime colored horse twill and mountains beyond that you can only see on a clear day.

One night we made a fire for the teenagers but none came. We were starting to think no one would come when the boys showed up. It was one of the rare sunny days in Chewy and the evening sun made the river and trees glow. We sat talking and making s'mores. The boys gathered firewood. They were laughing and talking until one of the parents showed up, looking intoxicated and asked for a smore. Her son handed his over and she just sat there looking angry. After she left the boys took us for a hike by the creek, through the high grass. It blazed a trail next to the stream surrounded by tall grass and trees. They kept leading us through, so excited to show us the path. It was wonderful and we were laughing. They never wanted us to home but we had to sleep. Many nights kids and dogs were knocking on the doors and windows, wanting our attention, but unlike Yupiks, us gussicks needed sleep at night.

Waking up late on a rainy Saturday with Amy making coffee. Watching Pierce Brosnan movies at night while we ate her signature dish of rice beans, cheese and picante sauce.  The first time Steven went swimming in the river in his little life jacket. He was on the dock with the other kids saying to his mom, "look mom, I'm swimming, I'm swimming. This is so fun."

Kay- a ten year old girl who does not really speak much but communicates in the Yupik way - by raising her eyebrows for yes and pursing her lips for no. Being taught other words by Crimson like,  "Eeeeee and Waca."The boys when teasing each other say, "So psycho you are" or "I joke."

Helen took us berry picking with the kids and then left us there. she told them to be good and listen to us which worked, at least with the girls. The boys started berry picking but ten minutes into it were jumping around and wresting with each other. Inevitably someone would get hurt, start crying, we'd break them up and then five minutes later they'd be doing it again and laughing. Meanwhile the girls were diligently picking berries from spongy earth with the Christmas tree plants all around. This was for the Augdig, the 'ice cream."

 

 

 

Being on the river at 12:00 midnight in the cold misty rain but it all being so peaceful. Passing the log cabins which dotted the pine tree covered hillside. On the last day, while packing frantically, I asked Father Michael to take me down to the church. It was silly that I never had found the time to do if before but Amy said to me, "when would you have done it?" It was true, we didn't seem to have much free time. It was up on a hill and looked very old and dilapidated. Inside there was wood paneling which looked strange contrasted with the beautiful religious paintings brought from Russia. There were also gold lanterns and chalices on the alter. He showed me prayer books written in yupik and Slavenia which is the language used for the religion. There is a wood stove to keep the church warm in winter and he said it is sometimes too hot in there. His soft lyrical voice was telling me about a saint who lived in this village. I thought of my Ukrainian grandmother as we looked at the at the fenced in graves in the yard and the Russian crosses on the graves. He wants to build a new church as this one is sinking into the mud. 

The boys hung around while we backed and Kay sat on an ATV in tears. We finally convinced them to show us Yupik dancing They stood outside the building - William banging on a 'drum' while Deshaun, Joseph and Phillip danced. They danced shyly and laughing slowly showing us the bird dance they do. Then Eric Morgan, who had been our cultural guide, picked us up on his ATV with the trailer behind him. As the dogs followed us, he said, "Once you feed them they will follow you everywhere." But even he seemed sad for them as he shooed them off the tarmac.

We said last goodbye to the boys and I felt so sad leaving them behind. Our three faithful companion dogs -Harley ( golden retriever) Cujo ( lab/shcnauzer) and Penny (new black pup) ran after the ATV all the way to the airstrip.  Harley, golden girl, sat on the tarmac watching as we got into the little plane which carried us, a reporter from the local radio station and an old Eskimo lady with a puppy. As we flew up over the village on the hill with the old Russian church and skinny pine trees, I could see Harley turn and walk back to the village.