SUNDAY IN UKPIAGVIK

Ukpiagvik is the Inupiat word for Barrow, translated “place to hunt snowy owls.”  Someone told me that the majority of people who attend the Ukpiagvik Presbyterian Church are Inupiat, that they are very active in the community and that during Thanksgiving they hold a potlatch and share their traditional foods including whale and fish.  I enjoyed the first church I visited here, but decided to attend Ukpiagvik Presbyterian today.  I think it’s important that I get to know the Eskimo people and their children on a personal level as well as through public health nursing and the thought of learning about community volunteer opportunities and joining them for traditional food for Thanksgiving sounded inviting.  I’m anxious to know them better and to learn what I can contribute to their community.

I sat in the third row from the front, hoping that I wasn’t displacing anyone from their regular pew and was adopted very soon by a little girl who came to me and lifted her foot indicating that she’d like me to pull her boot off.  I was happy to make her acquaintance, so pulled it off and smiled, thanking her for coming to visit me.  Her mother, at the end of the pew didn’t seem too happy about this, but the little girl, Mable, could not be contained and made her way back to me many times to help take off her snow suit or to put it back on until I smiled at the mother and offered Mable a seat next to me.  The mother smiled back, so Mable sat sort of attentively next to me, handing me a hymnal and holding hers upside down participating in the service.  Her brothers, both in front of us, with crew cuts and shirts that reminded me of my brothers Don and Nels when they were small, both came to visit too, but took their mother’s warnings more seriously and then just smiled back at me from their seats, obviously curious about the newcomer.

The service was very well done.  I enjoyed the message by a white (this is a common term and not used in a derogative way) minister by the name of Duke Morrow and the Tongan choir that sings here once a month was wonderful. It sounds as if there is a serious problem with alcohol abuse in Barrow, although it isn’t sold here and it’s illegal to partake unless you have a license to bring it here and use it.  Many prayers went up for people who are sick, traveling, those who have recently lost a loved one and those affected by alcoholism.  My heart went out to each person mentioned in prayer and to their families.  There is a common belief that the loss of many aspects of their traditional culture, especially for the men, has contributed to hopelessness and alcohol abuse.  The Presbyterian Church sounds quite active in the community, having a food bank, hosting two 12 step programs as well as being involved in community leadership.  The church is holding a potlatch on Inupiat Day, this Wednesday, asking for the community to come together to brainstorm about ending alcoholism. 

I was glad I attended and will tentatively plan on going to the potlatch and discussion and again to church next Sunday.  Mable’s mother’s name is Annie.  I enjoyed talking with her and others after the service.  Esther, the school nurse and her white husband attend as well as May and Ester, two of the elders I met while here for my interview earlier this year.  I saw approximately eight white faces besides mine in an otherwise sea of brown ones.  The young Eskimo man who had greeted me at the door told me after the service that he always wears a suit to church because his grandfather, who had ushered here for many years, had always worn one and he wanted to honor his memory.  He showed me his grandfather’s hat that he is also honored to wear making his grandmother very happy.  His mother’s family are more descendants of an Inupiat woman and George Leavitt, one of the early white whalers.  I walked out into the falling snow to the sound of a small Inupiat boy singing by himself from the platform near the lectern, “I’ve got peace like a river, I’ve got peace like a river, I’ve got peace like a river in my soul.”  Me too…

It was -7ᵒ F and snowing big puffy white flakes of snow accompanied by a strong wind on my walk to church and back home this morning.  The sun is not out today and the sky is very gray.  Years ago when our family had a reunion in Cabo San Lucas, my children, Lisa and Peter and several of their cousins, including Lyndsey, and I went to explore a beach area that is known for its dangerous waves.  We found small placid ones lazily washing up on the shore.  We all ran out into the water while Lyndsey shouted, “You call yourself a wave?!” to the one making its way toward us.  The next one was huge and noisily roared after us, chasing us, running and laughing up the beach.  I have always thought that Lyndsey had challenged the forces of nature and that they had responded.  The 16 degree drop in temperature between yesterday and today made me think about my thinking on some levels in the beautiful sun yesterday, “you call this cold?”  I was chilly yesterday at 9 degrees…today at -7 is definitely cold.  I somehow feel as though I’ve touched the same reactive power that Lyndsey did all those years ago in Cabo.  Now the trick is to learn how to use it when wanting the heat turned up a bit.  Normally at least two cars or trucks stop and ask me if I want a ride on my walks to and from work, especially on days with white-out conditions.  Today, I was grateful for the light and the walk across the frozen lagoon only seeing several cars from a distance. 

I just finished an incredible plate of Keta salmon.  A meal has never tasted so good.  Maybe the man working in the frozen food section at AC missed telling me that dogs here eat as well as humans.  In any case, I’m glad there are two more packages in my freezer.