Panama Pundit 4

Jan 6, 1991

I am tired; the wreck took it out of me emotionally.  Poor young man.  He had come to Panama for his first real great adventure of his life probably and died here.

The rest of the day was uneventful.  We returned to Sheraton and will be here for a few days coordinating convoy departures to what is now called Camp Thomas.  Presently I am sitting by the ocean, sea, or bay, or what ever you want to call it.  Anyway it is the entrance to the canal.

Jan 8

Went to see Bob Vaughn at his barracks.  We just talked and watched a tape he had.

Jan 9

Last night we returned to base camp to stay over night at least, or so they say.  Went to the river to wash our vehicles, we call it the Panamanian Car Wash.  Talked to Jerry for awhile.  He seems to be staying busy, busier than I.

Today so far has been interesting.  Johnson, another guy and I walked through the jungle area.  We went to the top of a hill and looked out over the ocean.  We later walked into Nombre and gave it a complete walk through.  Strictly third world I suspect, if I knew what a third world looks like.  We ran into Rodriguez, our interpreter, and he took us to a back ally place near the lagoon.  We found a house that had a picnic table outside under a wooden canopy where the owner served us lunch.  It was some kind of fish which we were not familiar with, a fried banana thing, might have been a polenta,  some sort of squash we think, and a rice dish consisting of coconuts and lintels.

Jan 10

Today is Darren’s birthday.  Went back into Nombre and ate lunch again at the same place we did yesterday.  We discovered that if we spoke Spanish the meal was $3, if we did not it was $4.  The lunch was octopus, shrimp, that rice dish again along with the fried banana thing.  I am really not impressed with Panamanian food.  Looks like we will head back to Ft Sheraton for awhile. 

Jan 11

The trip back and forth between Sheraton and Thomas is getting routine.  The people still wave at us as we go by and we of course wave back and when we stop for some reason always pass out candy to the kids that seem to flock around the vehicle.  Jerry was there doing an inventory or something.  That night in the military club I ate pizza and won $12 on a nickel slot machine.

Where's the Moose? - Alaska, part 3

“Years ago, there were three brothers named Wolf, Bear, and Moose.  Each brother took on the characteristics after the animal that was in his spirit.  Wolf was clever and swift of foot, Bear was strong and brave, and Moose was lazy and stupid.

“Wolf and Bear would hunt the seal and the salmon.  Moose, finding that hunting of seal and fishing for salmon was much work, would wonder around the village eating the garbage thrown out by his neighbors or rummage through the tundra looking for berries and other edible plants.  When winter arrived and berries and plants went deep in the earth not to return until spring, Moose would have to beg for food from his brothers.  The brothers did not mind at first because they were good hunters and stored up plenty for the long dark days of winter.  But then Wolf and Bear took a wife and had many children and the women told their husbands that they had no excess of food to share with one who would not even try to provide for himself during the lean times.

“Moose did not understand why he would have to work as hard as his brothers.  So one winter day after eating all the garbage that could be eaten, he stole the children of his brothers and ate them.  It was easy, as the children did not run away – in fact, they would even seek Moose out because he was funny looking to them.  Moose found out that this was easier than foraging for garbage and much easier than walking the tundra, so he began to eat all the children in the village that he could.

“The villagers went to the other two brothers and said that Moose must be killed.  Wolf and Bear loved their brother and did not want to hurt him so they dressed in skins of their spirits and chased Moose far way and when they had chased him far enough, they returned to the village to tell everyone that Moose was dead and would not return to Raven Bay.

“The brothers were afraid that even though Moose was stupid, he might accidentally find his way back to the village, so each day they would roam the tundra to hunt and guard the village against the return of Moose.  The guarding interfered with their hunting so the brothers went to their spirit animals and made a deal with them.  They promised all the bears and wolves that if they would protect the village from the return of Moose, they would leave some of their game on the beach each day so they could concentrate on protecting the village and not do much hunting.  That is why other than man, the moose has no enemy except the wolf and bear.”

Jimmy Rivers stopped talking and I found it necessary to ask, “What happened to Moose?”

“Well as often happens to lazy and stupid people,”  Jimmy continued, “He got lucky.  The place Moose was chased to was rich in berries and tall plants and shrubs that grew above the Tundra snow.  He met his spirit, married and had many Moose children.   He became so ashamed that he had eaten his brothers children, he made his own children promise never to return to the village area.  Besides he told them there was no food in the winter and that they would starve.  Would you like another cup of tea, Gussick?”

I drank another cup of tea, talked about Michael Jordan, and Jimmy’s time in the army.  I finally asked him how he became a shaman.  He told me.  I would tell you but you would not believe me.

After another cup of tea, I said it was time to go and started for the trap door when Jimmy said, “Why don’t you use the front door,”  pointing to the blanket hanging next to the Jordan poster.  “It is easier on the back.”

I left the semi-subterranean dwelling standing upright and walked out onto the Bering Sea beach with Jimmy following me.  As I was mounting my 4-wheller he asked, “Do you believe me Gussick?”  “Certainly,” I replied and drove off and thought I heard some chuckling behind me.

From that time on every time I sat in front of my fireplace thinking about my conservation with Jimmy Rivers, I found myself wondering why such a story could not be true or at least have some basis in fact.  The longer I would sit there and stare at the moose head hanging over the stone fireplace, I swear to this day that it was grinning down at me.

Where's the Moose? - Alaska, part 2

Jimmy Rivers lived out by the Bering Sea among the dunes in an area the locals referred to as the Old Village.  The Old Village was where Eskimos lived at one time that no one ever knew, nor no one ever knew anyone who ever knew anyone who lived there; except Jimmy River that is.

His dwelling would not have been easily located unless one had the skill and training to detect semi-subterranean housing.  Nothing distinguished one part of the tundra dunes from any of the other mounds in the area.  But given my training, I knew what to look for - the subtle changes in the contours of the earth, the faint discoloration of the tundra, and the slight relocation of the various moss and sod would have been completely unnoticed to the untrained eye – Jimmy Rivers sitting on his 4-wheller in the front yard didn’t hurt my skills of observation either.

I dismounted my 4-wheeler and walked towards Jimmy.  I was not sure how I should address him and then he said, as if reading my mine, “Jimmy is fine.”  I stuttered something or other as we shook hands and was then invited inside for tea.

Entering his house was no small feat because he had an Arctic entrance way, meaning you got down on all fours, crawled into a hole down a few feet, then parallel for another few feet then up again to the entrance of his dwelling.  I was a little taken aback from what I found.  I was expecting to see totems, hanging skins, masks, and other Eskimo artifacts.

The first thing I noticed however was a poster of Michael Jordan hanging on one of the sod walls.  There was also a television, microwave, toster, and something cooking in the crock-pot.

“I was an electrician in the Army and know how to tap in.”  He said, beating me to my question.

He poured me some strong tea, offered me a rolled cigarette which I reluctantly accepted having sworn off tobacco forever that morning and said,  “Jimmy I was…” 

“You will not believe me,” he interrupted. 

I protested that I would, but how did he know what I was going to ask I asked myself?  I was beginning to think that this guy was a real mind reader or perhaps Nanook had tipped him off.

“I don’t know what you were going to ask, but Gussicks never believe shamans.  And I am not a mind reader and how is my good friend Nanook, I have not seen in him in weeks.  Now about the Moose.”  Well that did it, I realized I was in the presence of a true mind reader or a true shaman, one with native abilities far beyond those of mortal men, and who, disguised as Jimmy Rivers was going to give me the truth, justice, and the Raven Bay explanation as to my enquiry.  Clark Kent eat your heart out.

“I hear you are a good Gussick, you do not judge, you do not condemn and even some of your people are of color.  All that makes you my brother.  So as a brother I will tell you.  Being my brother you will believe me – being a Gussick you will not – let your heart decide which way you will hear.”

“Years ago……”  

To be continued….

Where's the Moose? - Alaska, part 1

 Alces alces  (Latin)

Moose are everywhere in Alaska.  You can find them in school yards, you can find them in backyards, you can find them in yard gardens, you can see them walking down the right of ways in Anchorage, you can find their antlers adorning entrances, exits, dens and over fireplaces, you can find them or parts of them anywhere you look – anywhere that is except for Raven Bay.

Whenever I had a question that gnawed at me concerning local matters while living in Raven Bay, I always asked my good friend Nanook.  Yes there really is a Nanook of the North. 

Nanook was a wise man.  He had lived all his life in Raven Bay and one of the first of a growing number of villagers that had sought and received a college education.  Except for time spent in college he never has left his village for very long however, and had no visible means of support, other than welfare, subsistence hunting, and the yearly oil money.  His life style was by choice.  He could do any paying job that was in the village but mostly was only interested in acting as an elder, advisor, and a wise old sage.

So with all his local knowledge and wise sageism, with a degree to boot, I was sure that he could explain to me why the absence of moose.

“Nanook,” I asked one day, “Why are there no moose in Raven Bay?”

“Because they are some where else.”  He replied.

“Yes, I have figured that out, but ‘why’ is the question.”

“Why do you always ask questions when the answers make no difference!

“Nanook, we have been friends now for a long time.  You have helped me blend into the community and you have put your feet under my table more than once, as I have yours.  I think you know the answer to my question so why don’t you just tell me.”

“You would not believe me, talk to the Shaman.”  With that he walked away.

Shaman?  Well so much for the scientific and educational part of his nature I thought.

My wife was cooking dinner later that night and I casually mentioned my conversation with Nanook.  I said that I had thought that shamans did not exist anymore around villages and if they did I certainly didn’t know who it was. 

She just laughed and said, “Oh, you mean Jimmy Rivers.  He lives out by the old dunes.  Sort of a hermit the kids say.”

The impossible becomes the possible when you put it in the hands of a woman who substitute teaches and small children who appreciate the fudge and Italian cookies she would bring them each time she was called to sub. 

I was surprised she knew who the village shaman was.  Beverly didn’t know that she was not supposed to know nor did the kids know that they were not supposed to tell.  However, candy and cookies are eagerly consumed once presented and there must have been a direct correlation between treats and wiggly tongues.

“Why don’t you go ask him?”

To be continued…

Deutschland Diary - 4

Thursday, September 13, 1984

We woke at 0230 and sat around after loading our 5T tuck and left at 0530.  We traveled for about an hour and stopped for 20 minutes where we were the German army served us Bruska (hard roles) and coffee.

We then traveled SE for two more hours, rested for 2 hours and were served more Bruska and hot Austrian tea along with some kind of meat. 

We continued SE and at 1430 we pulled into our new Tactical Assembly Area near a town called Bouck.  We are setting up now.  Things are still confusing.

Friday the 14^th

Last evening a lot of the neighborhood kids came by and bummed food from us out of our extra MRE’s.  One little girl had on a University of Missouri sweat shirt.  A boy had on a pair of tennis shoes which had Elvis written on the side of each shoe.  They understood a little English.  I kept thinking about you kids, how kids everywhere are just the same.

Our camp site was next to the local soccer field.  I think it is called a Sportplats.  The town is off limits but Thomas, Jerry, and I walked there anyway.  It is just an old rural town.  The church we found out was over 800 years old.

My first German meal was eaten at the soccer fields guesthouse.  I had bratwurst, French fries, and a coke.  That is all they had.

We found out that our tour is approved for next weekend.  At least I will get to call and buy you all something.  Perhaps take some pictures.

Gold - Alaska

Note to reader:  This is part of an email I sent to many friends when I decided to return from Alaska.

May 2006

     Gold is where you find it and does always hold its glitter after it is panned.

     Four years ago I came up here because I read a book.  Now it is time to leave for the second time.  I almost left last year but it would have not been under the right circumstances and the money was a very big draw.  But that is over and now it really is time to come home, and if not directly to where you are, at  least a lot closer to those who love me, warts and all.

     I think back on my tenure here in Alaska, in Hooper Bay, next to the Bering Sea, Pitka’s Point along the  banks of the Yukon, and Noatak, 70 miles north of the Arctic Circle and wonder if this life adventure was worth the journey.   The answer may shock you.

  

      I have hunted whale and seal, eaten at the table with the Eskimo, been places, seen things that perhaps not many white people have.  I was not a great explorer or anything, far from it.  But building and igloo, ice jumping, walking on the Yukon, snow machine journeys, and just picking berries on the tundra are things that many that read this have not.

  

     I have met people who have seen ghosts, animals turned  into humans, humans into animals, little people, Big Foot, and one or two I am sure are in the witness protection program.

     I have sat by the side of a grieving father after his daughter died in a foolish accident, went to her wake and prayed over the body that was laid to rest on the front room floor in a home made coffin.  I helped build a casket and dig a grave in the frozen ground for a lady elder.  I went with the men of the village to search for a young man that became lost in an Arctic blizzard and discovered that he had survived the night in a self made snow cave.

      I will always remember the shock of walking down the  streets  of  more than one village and seeing half eaten walrus heads used for dog food, moose skulls strewn about, and snow higher than the roof tops.  Very few people I know have ever tracked a polar bear, albeit reluctantly, eaten seal jerky (more reluctantly,) beluga whale, swan (yes swan,) or musk ox.

   Last winter I was fascinated to watch automobiles and trucks drive up and down the Yukon only to be followed by a musher pushing his dogs to some unknown village up river.  When the ice broke and the huge chunks started moving down the river, the view was about as powerful a sight I had have ever witnessed.

   I have said many times never be one who wants and never does because you are afraid the pay the price.  Such quips are true for some but when it comes down to it not for most.

   My dad died soon after I got up here and it was to far to return for the funeral.  My children were confronted with some very life altering situations while I have been  here and all though they are adults and managed, they had no  Dad to turn to, if not for sound advice, at least some parental guidance .  I have a grandson that suffered from Kawasaki Disease  and I have never seen him. My other grand children  hardly  know who I am.   I spent almost a year away from a wife and was not there to help her when she needed me the most and it cost us both dearly.

   So was it worth it?   No.  I don’t regret coming though, I have seldom really regretted anything I have ever done, because I am the some total of my experiences and I pretty much like myself.  However regretting something is not the same as feeling the pain of the casualties you’ve left in your search for that elusive quality that some of us always seem to be searching for.

 

   Would I recommend to anyone that they should try Alaska bush teaching?  One couple from Independence did, specifically because of my column two years ago.  I understand they are doing fine but have not talked to them in depth.  I don’t know what I would recommend to anyone who would seek my advice about teaching in Alaska, but I do know that we would talk for a very long time.

    Now don’t think that I feel the last four years have been a waste.  There are memories that will last a life time and I will be able to be the life of any party, spinning my yarns,  and with each successive year they will grown in daring and  aw.  But having  an adventure can be just as far as the local laundry matt if you want it to be. 

    One excellent thing has happened beyond a doubt and that is that I would not have come in contact  with many old friends if I had not taken this road less traveled.  Especially those who live in and around Independence.

      Now and then I suspect that selective memory will kick in and for a few moments all will seem to be worth the while.  I do not know how to end this  muse, my last one from this area of the Arctic, so let me call upon Robert W. Service to leave you with a thought:

 There’s gold and it’s haunting and haunting,

It is luring me on as of old;

Yet isn’t the gold that I’m wanting , so much as finding the gold.

It’s the great broad land way up yonder,

It’s the forest where silence has lease.

It’s the beauty that fills me wonder,

It’s the stillness that fills me with peace.

Moving Where? - Alaska

There were and probably still is four basic reasons people move to Alaska to teach school:  The young just out of college looking for adventure; couples who want to increase their retirement portfolio; those who want to start a fresh life; and those who can’t find a job in the lower 48 and just want one.

The young are divided into two varieties – singles who crave adventure and the married who realize that with the money they make they can pay off their student loans in just one or two years.  They leave debt free and, if they are careful, have a little nest egg to buy a house back in the lower 48.  Some stay longer of course and pay cash for the house when they return which usually coincides with them wanting to start a family.

The older couples are usually retired school teachers and want to fluff their retirement nest egg.  They claim they are going to stay until vested in the Alaskan state retirement system but usually leave after three or four years.  They begin to miss the life they had near shopping centers and restaurants and their children start to have children and the grandparent things pulls them home.

The person who wants to start fresh and thinks the last frontier is just what is needed usually find that places change and people don’t.  They leave after one year or sometimes at the semester.

The last group of people, and the ones becoming more prevalent, are those just looking for a job.  They are first year teachers who can’t find employment in the lower 48 or those who have been laid off from teaching positions and any job will do.  They really don’t have the desire to go north but a recruiter paints such a rosy picture, that they think why not.  Not a good reason.  They start putting their resumes out the day they get here and as soon as a job in the lower 48 opens, they leave.

One of the bigger problems with education in bush Alaska, or at least it use to be, is the turn over rate.  We always had a huge turnover rate in every school I taught in.  My first year I saw 60% of the teachers leave, the next two years 50% left and one year I went to a school that every teacher there was new.  Try to run a business with turn over like those.

So why you may ask did I go to Alaska, and more importantly why did I stay as long as I did and would under the right circumstances go back again?  Good question, one that I have not satisfactorily been able to answer in my own mind let alone explain to anyone else.

There were days I would have gotten on the next stage out of Dodge but reality would strike and staying was the only logical thing to do.  The money was a draw but it wasn’t enough to go in the first place and not enough to keep me there longer than I was.  There were more kids that irritated me than warmed my heart and if any of my friends from back home would call and I was not at home, my answering machine said “Greetings from the land of nonsense.”  That quote always seemed to sum up about how I felt about the place day-in and day-out and all the idiotic situations that occurred in and around the villages.  Someone said I was odd to go and stay or the phrase I liked best was that I was just one dog short of a team.

The best reason I can come up with as to why I went and why I stayed and would go back was the fact that I had a dazzling social life.  I had plenty of friends back in Independence especially and I knew they would be glad to see me, but after the flurry of get togethers they would manage to ease back into the life they had with out me.  Some how they all would have managed to move fore ward while I was gone.

My social life in Alaska was much more active and stimulating than any other place I ever lived.  It was out of necessity of course to keep from going bonkers but the interaction between and among teachers kept me busy and stimulated.  Other villages were better than some but there was always something going on to keep from getting cabin fever.  Hooper Bay had the best teacher interaction and the village I liked the least. While Noatak had very little teacher to teacher contact on a social basis but the village I liked the most.  There was always something going on and the community made you feel a part of it.  Go figure.

But back to the social life.  In Hooper Bay, and this is as true as I can recall, the following was a typical week:  On Sundays we would go to the Marshall’s for coffee and pastry.  Later that same day a bunch of us would pile onto a four wheeler and sled and go to the beach to hunt clams.  On Monday, those of us who did not eat clams would go back to the beach to see what had washed up the night before, some times a whale would be there if we were lucky, or even a walrus if we were really lucky.  On Tuesdays the Gillans came over for dinner and always had pictures to show us about the previous summer they spent at a youth camp or tell us stories about the last 10 years they had spent in Hooper Bay.  Wednesday we had a Bible Study with the local missionary, which we sacrilegiously called Back to God Night.  Thursday the Krolls would come to dinner and we would watch our favorite TV show (it was such a favorite I can’t remember what it was now) but if the cable was out, which it tended to be now and then we would just gossip about everyone one else.  Which we figured was alright because it was not Wednesday.  Friday was pot luck at Marta’s or Jane’s and Saturday we would usually dine with the Neufeldts.  Life did not get a whole lot better than that. 

I realize that Tom Wolf was correct when he coined the phrase “you can’t go home again” and I don’t want to relive the past I just don’t want to forget it.