Kotlik

Felix serenaded us in the staff room with a guitar and song about the Eskimo boy living 3 miles up the Yukon from the Bering Sea. Jean and I were invited to Eskimo dancing, but I was still too sick from a sinus infection to have the energy to go back out in the evening.

I was there to give inservice on looking at student work to determine next steps in teaching. It's been a recurring theme in my work and I think most teachers want to know, what do they know? The inservice competed with the funeral potlatch in Stebbins. An elder died and most people knew her, so the inservice was a perfect reason to take a day off- no lesson plans and no kids in school. The 12 teachers and principal were friendly and responsive though so it was productive.

When we arrived, there was no ride in sight. We could see the school, but the wind was bitter and we each had a backpack and bag with our food, clothes and bedding to carry. Pretty soon, the snowmachine with a plastic sled showed up and Tony loaded us in. I gave Jean the back of the snowmachine and rode in the sled. I sat on my comfy bag which meant a cushioned ride for a few minutes. Very soon it was obvious that the plastic sled had little friction and my bag and I soon parted ways. Before long, my legs and head also drifted apart and I was almost horizontal. Between learning first hand about the physical properties of plastic and catching the sharp bits of snow in the eddy, I was glad to arrive. Walking would have been a treat.

Were we in time for lunch? Sorry, no. No tater tots and rice and meat with gravy for us. Too late. Were there mattresses for us? Sorry, no. The mattresses all had holes and besides, there was no pump. Jean makes for a good roommate though. She works for the district and was a village teacher so she knows everyone and expects nothing, the perfect combination. We bundled up and walked to the store where I bought orange juice, yogurt and Rollos, passing up the black bananas for sale for $2.49/lb. These treats spruced up my Hormel "puppy chow" dinner.

The new village and teacher housing and the public buildings all have running water. Across the river and in the older part of town, the homes have honey buckets. Honey buckets are buckets usually inside a liner with a toilet seat that sit behind a curtained area of the house. Erin and I had a honey bucket for 2 years in Atmautluak, 1980-1982. The prevailing odor is Pine-Sol and poo, but since other smells are also strong, it is not too put-offish when you are used to it. The most difficult thing to get used to are the sounds from behind the curtain. Outhouses and septic systems don't work on the tundra because there the frozen ground refuses to percolate. It would basically form a cesspool lake around the source. Community honeybucket dumps are generally dug mechanically (drilled more like) and are capped with steps up and a cover to lift. Some communities will haul the honey bucket product far away to Honey Bucket Lake.

Kotlik has two good stores selling everything you might need and some other things you might just want. The post office is new and the dump has a recycling center for aluminum (the first I've seen). The stores use paper bags instead of plastic and I didn't see any blowing trash. There is a community center and at least one church. Kids were friendly and everyone gave us the hello nod.

We had an early goodnight because Jean was developing a sore throat and I still have a wicked sinus infection that causes crud to pool up in my throat during the night. The ensuing coughing and struggle for breath wakes me up continually. In the 10 hours of downtime, I managed about 6 hours of sleep. The trips to the bathroom bring heightened awareness that if we don't take the key with us, we'd be locked out into the cold hallway in our jammies for the rest of the night.

Nonetheless, I was glad to fly back to Mountain Village last evening because I stay at Jean's house with a bed, conversation and shared food. Miraculously, the plane came in and got us in blowing snow and high winds. Felix was entreated to drive the snowmachine slowly and the sled was wooden, so the ride to the airstrip felt more like a guided tour of Kotlik. The plane ride was a short flight due to tailwind and was uneventful, just the way I like it. Brian picked us up upon arrival and took us to the store in the truck where I bought bananas and yogurt and yes, soy milk. A good night's sleep, BeeGees on the DVD player and Bertolli's dinner. Life is good.