Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Can’t see the Forest for the Trees.

Occasionally, I can’t see the Tundra for the Tussocks.

When you’re too close to a situation, sometimes you need to step back a little to gain a different perspective. Do this and you might notice that there was whole a forest before you that was previously unseen because you were too close, focusing on the trees.

There are no trees in Kivalina. Zero. Zilch. But there are children and those children are a reflection of the Village. The kids are the trees and today I saw the forest. 

Some days I walk and am astounded by the enormity and beauty of the Arctic. The Delong and Baird Mountains cast an imposing backdrop to the east. I’ve never lived amongst the mountains until now and it’s an impressive thing. The far-reaching peaks and valleys convey countless opportunities of exploration in their surrounding comfort. Some days I see the power of the Chukchi Sea as another calming presence in a difficult clime. The ice heaves are ever changing and seem to mirror their mountain neighbors. Water, whether solid or liquid has always helped sooth my soul.

Other days I’m not so fortunate. I see the piles of trash, the neglected dogs and even worse, the neglected children. I see skeletal mountains of snowmachine and ATV parts randomly discarded around the village. I see the scars of domestic violence when a co-worker that stepped out to have a smoke refuses to make eye contact out of embarrassment. She knows that I know why she’s missed work for 4 days in a row. Her injured leg and battered face evidence of the evils of alcohol in the village.

Sometimes I walk completely oblivious to the monsters that grip this land – complacency, depression and poor mental health. Other times it’s glaringly obvious. Last night I noticed the two bags of frozen excrement and feces that dropped off of a trash run trailer weeks ago have still not been picked up and moved to the appropriate place. Soon those bags will thaw. Last night I watched as unsupervised school aged children chased dogs with sticks and ropes, attempting to tie them up and beat them. Later, that same crowd stood around laughing while one child was on his knees while the dog humped away. I walked away while my ten-year-old classroom menace lead the masses in vulgarities.

Lately, our school days begin with fractions of the total enrollment in attendance. Others straggle in tardy as a result of non-existent bedtimes. The non-existent bedtimes are a microcosm of the lack of family education and parental values. Nowadays, the sun lights the Arctic skies well past my bedtime. The increased sunlight hours and the warming temperatures have helped invigorate the village but honestly, not in a positive way.


I guess the pessimist and the optimist in me are stuck in a constant dispute over the beauty and ugliness of this place. Last night I felt defeated. On my evening walk the pessimist in me chose to see the hardships of life easily outweighing the good on the island.

1 comment:

kirby said...

As a bit of a follow up for those that care...the classroom menace was sent home today for being rude, not following staff instructions and well, for being a meanie.
Her mother took her home, spanked her and then came back to school as the building janitor. Moments later, Grandfather was in the school in a profanity laced tirade hunting me down. He was going to have a word with that man - the teacher that man-handled my granddaughter. The little girl said that it was me that was doing the teasing and that I pushed her in to the hallway. The principal was not off limits to his vulgar onslaught either....with primary students in the hall, Granddad pointed fingers, swore, cast insults and stormed off.

His daughter - the janitor mother - spent the next 30 minutes with us in the Principal's office explaining how ugly things are in the village right now. The alcohol, the marijuana, the abuse, the neglect - it was as if she read my blog.
(I actually penned most of this this morning before all the excitement of the afternoon.)

Let'em.
K