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Feathers in the Tent and Fish in the Pan
The yellow Arctic Oven tent is nestled in the snow in front of a grove of spruce trees. Stoic, strong spires telling us they remain even in winter. A winter that has brought rain in December, covering everything in an inch of ice, and week-long January windstorms that blew siding and roof metal off houses.…
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Native food is my love language
I don’t think I’ve ever written about it, but I should. The first time I visited Timm in Noatak, and after we officially started liking each other that way he kind of sealed the deal with my send off meal. Out of his freezer in his teacher apartment he served me trout quaq, bowhead maktak,…
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If my house was on fire, I’d grab my favorite ulu
My journalist friend, Julia O’Malley, hooked me up with an editor for Eater Magazine to write a piece about the ulu. She reminds me of the importance of community and the recurring lesson that we cannot do anything alone. Thank you, Julia. It was interesting writing about an every day Inupiaq/Yup’ik item in a literal…
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Compassion is transformative
This spring I spoke with U.S. Poet Laureate Joy Harjo for a story for New Mexico’s El Palacio Magazine. For five years it was my job to interview people. All kinds of people. Hunters, mayors, U.S. Senators, Alaska Governors, CEOs and birders. I was rarely nervous, and definitely never as nervous as I was in…
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Gram, Beach Greens, Fermenting & Home
Our busy harvesting season begins with our ugruk hunts in May. After ugruk we have the oil to store greens and roots like tukaiyuk, masru and sura. (I actually don’t pick sura because I don’t have the patience to pick and clean the tiny greens, LOL.) In June we pick beach greens to ferment. To…
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I’m writing again!
It’s been a while. I know. Thanks to High Country News, I’ll be sharing glimpses into our life in western Alaska. My favorite thing. This past summer I took a qulliq carving class with one of the greatest teachers of our time, Kunaq. This column explores welcoming the seal oil lamp back into our homes.…
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Hurt and healing, maybe even hope
For a few days I’ve simply been emotionally numb. Numb to the fact that thousands of Indigenous children’s bodies are buried. Children murdered, abused. Children sick with TB, died without family. Without love. Without care. Children buried. In unmarked graves. Children. While these children died at the hands of the Canadian government and the Catholic…
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Group project
Let’s do a project together. Last night I read that you don’t get exhausted doing what you love. It got me thinking. I never got exhausted when working at KNOM Radio providing information to the region, and I have never worked longer hours. I loved it. With everything going on (how we natives say COVID-19…
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Family Time Means Moose Hunting
This past year I full-on caught the moose hunting bug. Some call the fever Moose Brain. The infection started a few years ago when intending to drive way up North River to my Uncle Burkher’s camp. On the way we saw a cow and a bull moose in the middle of the river. My brother,…
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Today we mourn
Today we know why our marrow has always hurt.Today we know why we were born with pain in our bones. Today we know why. We have been hated. We have been beaten. We have been tortured. We have been killed. We have been shamed. Humiliated. Told WE are evil. Told so much we hate ourselves.…
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Liar, liar, pants on fire
After reading this story KUAC reported a few days ago, I found myself writing a response. I think if I didn’t I would have internally combusted. Writing, in many ways, is a release. A way of getting the energy buzzing in my body placed, yes, just on the page, but at least somewhere. Each and…
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laureli ivanoff 