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This is Lee Stefan, Dena'ina Athabascan, coming down the escalator in the Dena'ina Convention Center in Anchorage, where the annual convention of the Alaska Federation of Natives was held. Stefan lives in the Native Village of Eklutna, which is located within the Municipality of Anchorage.

Stefan is a past president of the NVE tribal government. He is also an avid photographer. "Come by sometime soon," he invited. "We'll eat moose soup, and we'll go crazy looking at photos."

And here is Willie Hensley of Kotzebue, who became an activist in the 60's and 70's and was one of the original founders of AFN. The Native people of Alaska had become very alarmed at the expanding pace of incursion onto their aboriginal lands, which they had never sold, bartered, or treated away to anyone - Russia, included.

Thus, Native leaders formed AFN to push for a land claims settlement and Hensley played a lead role. The movement culminated in the passage of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act of 1971, which left 44 million of Alaska's 375 million acres to them.

The act called for the 44 million acres to be deeded to 12 Native Regional Corporations and some 230 village corporations, which were paid $1 billion for the 331 million acres removed from Native aboriginal title. Under the Statehood Act, Alaska would get 103,350,000 acres and the remaining 222 million acres would be held by the Federal Government.

Hensley went on to become one of the more important and influential Native Corporation leaders. This year, his book, Fifty Miles from Tomorrow was released to critical acclaim and has become an Alaskan best-seller.

This year's convention was dedicated to Hensley, and he and his 26 year-old daughter, Elizabeth, gave the keynote address.

This is Elizabeth Hensley, chatting with Phillip Blanchett of the musical group, Pamyua. Sadly for me, I was delayed in Wasilla on the opening morning of AFN and I missed the keynote address that Willie and Elizabeth Hensley delivered together.

After I arrived, many different people told me that the speeches were excellent and they especially praised Elizabeth, a law school graduate now serving as an aide to Alaska State Representative Reggie Joule. She likened what is happening in Rural, Native Alaska today to warfare.

"The war that engulfs us today is a war fought on the battlefield of substance abuse. Self-hatred. Suicide. Rape. Child molestation. This is a war within ourselves," she was quoted in the Anchorage Daily News. "What would happen if each of our tribes created a well-thought out, well-planned system for enforcing law and order? Could any outside force really stop us, 231 tribes, from maintaining peace and harmony within our villages?"

The Alaska Dispatch, quoted her as well: "This war is just as bloody and as damaging as any fought with guns and knives." She spoke of suicide and substance and sexual abuse. "How many of you have cried for hours without knowing why?" she asked, "and how many of you have drank or smoked weed or used meth ... because of a deep emptiness in your stomach?"

This is Etok, Charlie Edwardsen of Barrow, who was also an activist in the movement that led to the passage of ANCSA, but was very disappointed in how it turned out. When the Native leaders present were asked region by region whether they accepted ANCSA, the late Joe Upicksoun, the Arctic Slope Represenative, shouted out, "no!"

Thus, Edwardsen has always maintained, all the land within the huge area of Alaska from the Brooks Range north to the Arctic Ocean legally still belongs to the Iñupiat, as they never agreed to cede it.

In the decades since ANCSA passed, Edwardsen has actively promoted the rights of Alaska's tribal governments. Don't ever try to argue with him, because you will never win. His brain is like an encyclopedia of Indian law and his voice... you could shout into a microphone and even without one he would still overpower you.

The PBS documentary film, For the Rights of All: Ending Jim Crow in Alaska, produced by Anchorage-based filmmaker Jeff Silverman, was previewed on opening day. It tells the stories of two Native women who played Rosa Parks-like roles in gaining civil rights for Alaska Natives: Iñupiat Alberta Schenck Adams and Tlingit Elizabeth Peratrovich. Schenck got arrested and jailed for sitting in the whites-only section of a movie theatre in Nome, only to go back and sit there again.

This inspired other Iñupiat to do the same and the theatre owner and police backed down.

Peratrovich stood up to a racist and bullying Alaska Territorial Senator to deliver the testimony that proved key to the passage of Alaska's Anti-Discrimination Bill in 1945.

Diane Benson, the actress, poet and playwright who originally put-together a one-woman play on Peratrovich, reprised that role in the documentary. Afterward, Sarah Thiele, an Athabascan living in Pedro Bay on Lake Iliamna gave this ivory paddle pendant to her.

Thiele said that she has had the pendant for many years. She knew that one day she would give it to someone, but did not know who. After she saw the film, she gave it to Diane.

"It takes work to paddle," Thiele explained. "She never stopped working, she never stopped paddling."

This is Gar Caldwell with his wife Emily and their new baby, Jessica Elizabeth Atkilaq. Let's be clear about one thing - I am not a wedding photographer. I would rather do just about anything than to be a wedding photographer. When people call me up on the phone and ask me if I do weddings, I tell them "no" - even during those times when I am flat broke and desperate for cash. But everynow and then, for a good friend or relative, I will photograph a wedding.

I photographed the Caldwell's. Now I have photographed their baby, too.

When Flore Lekanoff was in his teens, the Japanese bombed Dutch Harbor and captured Alaska territory in the Aleutians, including Attu, where they killed two villagers and took the remainder of the Aleut population captive.

Shortly after the bombing, Lekanof and his family were suddenly evacuated from their home in St. George on the Pribilof Islands and sent by ship to a camp in Southeast Alaska. Aleuts from several villages in the Aleutian and Pribilof Islands were evacauted and then housed in old, dilapidated fish canneries and mining camps, where the government abandoned and left them long after the Japanese threat had been eliminating.

St. George lost 25 percent of its population to disease and hunger. Lekanof's sister and grandmother were among them. Flore, however, managed to use the experience to gain broader knowledge of the world and its workings and went on to become a prominent leader.

This is he, with his wife Mary, who I used to work with at the now defunct, Tundra Times.

When I flew my airplane into the trees at Mentasta, Charles David Jr., witnessed the crash. He came running to me and I saw the look on his face go from worry to relief.

Many people told me that I was lucky, but it is hard to feel lucky when you have just destroyed the symbol of your identity and the foundation upon which you were building your life. Such was the case when I crashed The Running Dog.

Still, it was kind of comforting to see Charles rushing toward me after it happened because, as you can see, he is a strong man.

Charles embraces George Attla, 10 time winner of the Fur Rendezvous World Championship sprint sled dog race and eight time winner of the North American Open. As a boy, Attla suffered a crippling bout of tuberculosis as a boy.

Few believed that he could succeed when he took up dog mushing. His story was told in the film, Spirit of the Wind.

This is Robert Heinrich, commercial fisherman and President of the Native Village of Eyak in Cordova. There is a big story behind this tribal government, but I don't have time to tell it right now.

In years past, I did some work on contract for NVE. Heinrich, better known locally as "Moose," was a fun person to hang out with. He was in Mentasta the evening that I crashed. The first thing he asked me when I saw him at AFN was, "do you have another airplane yet?"

No, I said, I don't. I have not been able to afford it.

He said that when you have to get something, you just got to do it. When he decided to buy himself a crab boat that cost $250,000 (or was it $450,000?) he didn't have any money but he bought it, anyway.

Yes, that's how I got the Running Dog in the first place - that's how I've done virtually everything that I've ever done, but it's really, really, hard right now. Hard to communicate how hard.

"But I've got to get one, somehow," I told him. "I have no idea how. But I've got things to do."

"Yes, you do!" he said. "And you can't do them without an airplane."

Among the first villages that I traveled to after I got my Alaska start-up job at the Tundra Times was Kwigillingok, a tiny Yup'ik community near the mouth of the Kuskowim.

I had not yet learned to fly and I came in on a commercial flight just as a severe September rainstorm struck the village. Nobody was there to pick me up. I walked through the rain to the post office, where the Post Master lady told me that the man who was supposed to meet me and help me out with the project that I had come to do had left the village and would not be back for a week.

I did not know what to do. The rain was coming down harder and harder and there would not be another plane for three days. I had no place to stay, no food to eat.

So I sat down on a wooden bench to think about it and, as I did, an elderly woman walked into the post office. She looked at me, then began to speak in Yup'ik to the Post Master. They spoke for awhile and several times, the woman looked at me. I knew that I was the subject of the conversation and I imagined that it was not friendly, that she was saying something like, "look at that stupid white man stuck in our village! We don't need him here! What's he doing here, anyway?"

After a few minutes, the Post Master came over to me. "She wants to know if you would like to go to her house and eat dinner with her," she asked me.

So, yes, I went and had dinner - soup, with eyeballs floating in it and it was hot and good.

For the next three days, that Elder woman's home was my home and she was wonderful to me. My trip proved successful.

This woman, master basket weaver Lena Ath, is also from Kwiq.

As you can see, her work is very beautiful - as is the Native spirit of her village. May that spirit never die.

The man in the white shirt is US Senator Mark Begich, Democrat, dancing in an invitational with the Kuugmiut Dancers of Wainwright.

US Senator Lisa Murkowski, Republican, follows the lead of Kuugmiut dancer Iqaluk Nayakik. Long-time readers will remember Jason Ahmaogak. He drums behind Senator Murkowski and Iqaluk is his special lady.

Now I do not know what to do. I have enough material like this from this year's AFN convention to make daily posts of this nature for a week - but I can't afford the time to do it.

But I will make a least a couple of more posts, but will make the text even more brief.