A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

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Wasilla

Wasilla is the place where I have lived for the past 29 years - sort of. The house in which my wife and I raised our family sits here, but I have made my rather odd career as a different sort of photojournalist by continually wandering off to other places to photograph people and gather information, which I have then put together in various publications that have served the Alaska Native Eskimo, Indian and Aleut communities.

Although I did not have a great of free time to devote to this rather strange community, named after a Tanaina Athabascan Indian chief who knew Wasilla in the way that I so impossibly long to, I have still documented it regularly over the past quarter-century plus. In the early days, my Wasilla photographs focused mostly upon my children and the events they participated in - baseball, football, figure skating, hockey, frog catching, fire cracker detonation, Fourth of July parade - that sort of thing. 

In 2002, I purchased my first digital camera and then, whenever I was home, I began to photograph Wasilla upon a daily basis, but not in a conventional way. These were grab shots - whatever caught my eye as I took my many long walks or drove through the town, shooting through the car window at people and scenes that appeared and disappeared before I could even focus and compose in the traditional photographic way.

Thus, the Wasilla portion of this blog will be devoted both to the images that I take as I wander about and those that I have taken in the past. Despite the odd, random, nature of the images, I believe they communicate something powerful about this town that I have never seen expressed anywhere else. 

Wasilla is a sprawling community that has been slapped down hodge-podge upon what was so recently wilderness of the most exquisite beauty. In its design, it is deliberately anti-zoned, anti-planned. In the building of Wasilla, the desire to make a buck has trumped aesthetics and all other considerations. This town, built in the midst of exquisite beauty, has largely become an unsightly, unattractive, mess of urban sprawl. Largely because of this, it often seems to me that Wasilla is a community with no sense of community, a town devoid of town soul.

Yet - Wasilla is my home and if I am lucky it will be until I grow old and die. Despite its horrific failings, it is still made of the stuff of any small city: people; moms and dads, grammas and grampas, teens, children, churches, bars, professionals, laborers, soldiers, missionaries, artists, athletes, geniuses, do-gooders, hoodlums, the wealthy, the homeless, the rational and logical, the slightly insane and the wholly insane - and, yes, as is now obvious to the whole world, politicians, too.

So perhaps, if one were to search hard enough, it might just be possible to find a sense of community here, and a town soul. So, using my skills as a photojournalist and a writer, I hope to do just that. If this place has a sense of community, I will find it. If there is a town soul to Wasilla, I will document it. I won't compete with the newspapers. Hell no! But as time and income allow, it will be fun to wander into the places where the folks described above gather, and then put what I find on this blog.

 

by 300...

Anywhere within a 300 mile radius of Wasilla. This encompasses perhaps the most wild, dramatic, gorgeous, beautiful section of land and sea to be found in any comparable space anywhere on Earth. I can never explore it all, but I will do the best that I can, and will here share what I find and experience with you.  

and then some...

Anywhere else in the world that I happen to get to, such as Point Lay, Alaska; Missoula, Montana; Serenki, Chukotka, Russia; or Bangalore, India. Perhaps even Lagos, Nigeria. I have both a desire and scheme to get me there. It is a long shot. We shall see if I succeed.

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Entries in Funeral of Warren Matumeak (5)

Monday
Dec132010

Goodbye, Warren Matumeak - part 5: Singspiration slide show; when Tommy saved his aapa's life

I am going to do things a little differently with this, my final post in this series. Anyone who has followed this blog for the past month or so will probably understand when I state that, at the moment, I am drained. I am exhausted.

So, instead of presenting my 14 image singerspiration post in the usual way - with images that alternate with narrative, I am inserting this one photo into the post and I present the rest entirely as a slide show. This means there will not be captions or any kind of explanation, but I think you will get the idea.

I do want to say a little more about two images, however. Very near to the end of slide show, you will see an image of Warren's daughters Alice Akpik and Darlene Matumeak standing just behind the pulpit. As they were bringing the singspiration for the their father to an end, they were suddenly struck with such emotion that they had to step back from the pulpit to fight off the tears.

As they stood there, the congregation spontaneously began to sing - softly, tenderly and lovingly, "Praying for You." So in that photo, Alice and Darlene are wrapped in that song of prayer offered by those gathered with them in the Utqiagvik Presbyterian Chapel.

While all the people of Barrow and just about anywhere on the Arctic Slope will recognize the gentleman standing with his guitar in the final two shots as Peter Matumeak, Warren's son, I want to be certain that readers who do not know him understand this as well.

Click here for full, 14-image Singspiration for Warren Matumeak slide show.

Before I went to Barrow, I mentioned that I had rounded up a number of pictures that I had taken of Warren in life, but that there were many more that I could not find - including my very favorite. I have found that photo, of Warren with his grandson, Tommy Akpik, which I present below, along with the story. I believe that I took it in the fall of 1986, not long after I had begun Uiñiq magazine:

 

Beneath a full, October moon that hung in a pale blue sky, Warren Matumeak and his nine-year old grandson Tommy came upon three caribou. Warren shot the first, and Tommy the other two. As they dragged the dead caribou onto the sled, Warren felt a pain in his chest. He began to sweat. His muscles grew weak, his breath short.

He realized he was suffering a heart attack. “Tommy,” he said, “I am going to go to heaven now. You take me to your grandmother. Now, drive toward the moon. Going that direction, you will see your aaka."  Warren did not expect to be alive to see her himself. Tommy was frightened, but he helped situate his grandfather on the sled. Then he started up the snowmachine, turned it toward the moon and began to drive.

He cried as he pulled the sled upon which he expected to deliver the body of his aapa to his aaka.

Aapa Warren had taught Tommy how to shoot, to hunt and how to live on the land and sea. Tommy would not let Aapa down in the moment of his death. Tommy drove slowly over the bumpy tundra, until the snowmachine became stuck in a drifted-over ravine. Tommy tried with all of his strength, but could not push it out.

“Let’s pray" Warren suggested. They did. Warren then found the strength to help Tommy push the snowmachine out.  An hour later, Tommy pulled up to the tent. He and his grandmother lay Warren down upon some caribou skins, then snowmachined to a nearby camp with a radio which they used to call Search and Rescue.

When the helicopter arrived, Martha joined her husband on board, but there was no room for Tommy. He went to the camp of his aapa's sister and brother-in-law, Thomas and Myrtle Akootchook, but lingered outside. Finally, Myrtle went looking and found him sitting outside, crying. Myrtle brought Tommy in, and gave him a can of soda pop.

That seemed to cheer Tommy up a bit.

Saturday
Dec112010

Goodbye, Warren Matumeak - part 4: final military honors; Psalm 23: I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever

As the service draws to an end, Barrow veterans, including many who have fought in foreign wars, took turns in paying Warren Matumeak their respect. Wesley Aiken, who served with him, salutes his life-long friend and closest cousin.

James Kapu Ahsoak and Thomas Hopson during the folding of the flag.

As Hopson takes the folded flag, Nowpakahok salutes.

David Leavitt presents the flags of the State of Alaska and the Alaska Territitorial Guard  to Warren’s daughter Darlene Kagak.

Wesley Aiken presents the American flag to Warren’s eldest daughter, Alice Akpik.

 

His fellow veterans give Warren Matumeak a final salute. To see a larger version of this image, click on the picture. "View as slide show" will display larger versions of all pictures.

Warren’s grandsons Warren Kagak and Tommie Akpik lead the way as Warren's pallbearers carry him from the church…

…and then to his grave.

Family members gather around as Warren Matumeak is lowered into the permafrost. Afterward, when they gather at his home to eat, they will express great confidence that he has gone to a better place and that in time, short by eternal standards, they will join him there.

The Reverend John Chambers conducts the graveside service.

The grave is filled in.

Warren loved Psalm 23 and had recited it a few times during the final weeks of his life, so the family asked Mark Ahsoak if he would create a plaque of Psalm 23 for the cross that would mark Warren’s grave. He did. Darlene examines the plaque and is pleased by it.

Robert Akpik places a wreath on the cross that now marks his aapa’s grave.

Family members gather behind him.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table...

 

View as slide show


Saturday
Dec112010

Goodbye, Warren Matumeak - part 3: The Service

To honor his service, Alaska National Guardsmen and Iraq war veterans Owen Nowpakahok and Thomas Hopson carry an American flag to Warren’s coffin.

Steven Kaleak, also a veteran of the Iraq war, joins his fellow guardsmen in salute to their fellow soldier.

The choir that Warren led for so long and so recently now sing for him. Warren was not only a song leader, but a song translator and a song writer. He translated many hymns from English into Iñupiaq and composed many originals. Several of them have become Christmas classics and will soon be heard as part of the pageants that are performed in Barrow each Christmas season.

After the invocation and a recitation of the Lord's Prayer, the choir and congregation joined together to sing, "My Jesus, I love Thee" - a favorite hymn of Warren's.

Warren’s daughter, Darlene Kagak and her husband Jacob Kagak join in the congregational singing.

More members of his family, including Ernest Nageak, Nancy Akpik and husband Tommy, Robert Akpik, John Titus, Warren Kagak and Alice Akpik, his oldest daughter (far right, standing alongside her husband Robert Akpik),  also sing with the congregation.

Then Warren’s grandchildren sing a special for him…

Followed by his children, their spouses and some of Warren's nephews and nieces who were so close to him and his children as to be considered his sons and daughters, their brothers and sisters...

Warren’s brothers and sisters sing for him.

His sister, Hattie, performed a duet with her husband, Frank Long, jr. The Longs live in Nuiqsut, along with several other members of Warren's extended family.

A large group of nieces and nephews honor their uncle.

Mae Ahgeak, a niece, spoke words of remembrance. When Mae was growing up, she spent so much time in the home and hunting and fishing camps with Warren, his wife Martha and their children that she became like a daughter and sister to them.

The Reverend John Chambers, who served in Barrow in the 1950’s and made Warren his choir director, conducts the services and speaks of Warren’s Christian life. Reverend Chambers is serving as an interim pastor through mid-winter.

Warren’s sister, Myrtle Akootchook, shares memories of her brother.

Son-in-law Jacob Kagak talked about some of the highlights of Warren’s past, as well as personal memories that he and Warren’s children have of him.  I will sum of these up in a future post that I will build around pictures of Warren in life.

Fellow Alaska Territorial Guard veteran Wesley Aiken remembered his life-long friend.

The Presbyterian Point Barrow Choir stands behind their director for a final performance in his honor. A couple of days before his passing, Warren awoke and said, "Aarigaa, atupaluktut, aarigaaaa..." he had heard the heavenly choir.

North Slope Borough Mayor Edward Itta, speaks in honor of Warren Matumeak, and recalls how Warren helped to create Suurimmaanitchuat - a very popular Eskimo dance group.  

Her talent comes naturally, but before Alisha Itta sang, she told the mourners gathered that it was Warren who taught her how to sing for the Lord. Then she sung for him – and she sang beautifully.

Marie Rexford, Betty Brower and Saaniaq and Fenton Rexford brought a song from their village of Kaktovik.

A picture of Warren posing in front of the last bowhead whale that he harpooned. Normally, after the harpooner strikes a whale, he is followed by the shoulder gunner and then is assisted by other crews firing both shoulder and darting guns until the whale is dead. This whale died the instant Warren struck it. The shoulder gun did not need to be fired.

Grandson's John Titus and Robert Akpik.

As the main part of the service draws to an end, Roy Nageak raises his hand into the air in worship. 

 

View images as slides

Saturday
Dec112010

Goodbye, Warren Matumeak - part 2: The visitation at Utqiagvik Presbyterian Church

Most often, funerals for people who have reached a position of prominence* in Barrow are held in one of the school gymnasiums in order to accommodate a number of mourners too large for the chapel. Warren Matumeak was such a man, but before his death he made it known that his funeral was to be held inside the Utqiagvik Presbyterian Church, where he had attended services and been a faithful member for all of his life.

He was a trustee and Elder of the church and served as a choir director since the early 1950’s. He was a man devoted to his Iñupiat culture – the language, the hunting, fishing, whaling, traditional song and dance and to his family.

He also made it clear that he had no higher devotion than that he gave his God and this was the place where that relationship took hold. This would be the place where his final service would be held.

The visitation began at noon, but I was unable to make it over until about 12:40. I followed these two into the chapel to find that it was already full.

*I would note that before the funeral, I was contacted by a few friends of Warren's who would not be able to attend and they let me know they were looking forward to attending vicariously through this blog.

So, for all those who would have been here if they could, I am making this an extra large series of pictures, beyond what may be of interest to many readers outside the scope of Warren's family and friendship. I will put three posts up this afternoon, one almost immediately following the other, and will then follow up tomorrow with another post or two to finish off with the singspiration, and a small glimpse at Warren's life.

These are the living sisters and brothers that Warren left behind, plus a couple of cousins and a niece. Through his father, mother and step-mother, Warren had a total of 13 brothers and sisters.

As slides from his life were projected onto a screen behind his coffin, grandchildren of Warren gathered around to share some final moments with their beloved Aapa.

The chapel was filled with gospel music, played in the heart and soul-felt way that the Iñupiat perform it. Among the musicians were Bradford Nageak, Fred Elavgak and...

Clifford Okpeaha...

Frank Long, Jr....

...Tom Opie...

...Leona Okakok...

...and Adeline Hopson.

Soon, the casket will be closed. The service will begin.

 

View images as slides

Wednesday
Dec082010

Goodbye, Warren Matumeak - part 1: A gathering at his house

I am a couple of days behind, but I will pick up where I left off and try to catch up by the weekend. As friends and readers know, I had come to Barrow for the funeral of Warren Matumeak, a good man. He was buried yesterday following a funeral that, despite the bitter pain of loss, was truly beautiful and sweet. How could it have been otherwise, given the beautiful and productive life that Warren lived?

Despite the fact that the sun has not risen since November 18 and will not rise again until January 22, by Monday noon, shortly after I arrived in Barrow, the southern sky was aglow with that soft combination of dusk and twilight that exists only in the polar latitudes.

I set out to walk to the Matumeak home, and soon came upon Max Ahgeak's umiak frame, where it awaits the spring. Beyond it were two graveyards, a small, family, one on this side of the middle lagoon and the large community cemetery, where Warren would be buried, on the other.

I stopped to take this picture. It did not dawn on me until later that the brightly lit spot across the lagoon, just over the middle of the crosses to left, was where family and friends were just now finishing up the hard task of digging Warren's grave in the Barrow permafrost.

I was hungry when I arrived, but was quickly offered hot soup, frozen whale meat, maktak, and hot dogs. I partook of it all and it was all good. Sitting across from me was Josie Kaleak and her daughter, Michelle.

Ora Elavgak and her son, Asa, soon sat down with us.

Darlene Kagak, one of Warren's daughters, sat down at the table to look through recent pictures of her father on her iPhone in the hope that they could find a good one for the bulletin. She was joined by her sister, Alice, her husband Jacob and Warren's granddaughter-in-law, Nancy Akpik with baby Carly.

Soon, the friends and family who had just completed digging the grave began to arrive. They had been working in - 20 F. weather with a strong wind blowing. They were hungry and ready to warm up. Darlene received a hug from her nephew, Sakeagak.

And another hug from her nephew, John Titus.

As those who had been digging the grave sat down to eat, Darleen hugged her brother, Peter Matumeak. 

Knowing that her father could use a hot cup of tea, Warren's greatgrandaughter, Carly, brought a hot thermos to dad Tommy Akpik.

However hard it may be,many things must be done before a loved one can be buried. Alice showed two poems that the family planned to put in the bulletin for Warren's funeral. One was a poem dedicated to Warren, the grandfather - "Aapa" - the other to Warren, the Dad.

The house was filled with gospel music, brought into it through a recording of the Native Musicale, a celebration of Gospel music that takes place in Anchorage every year in late February-early March. I do not know what year the recording was from, but many of older the performers featured in it have passed on themselves and some of the children singers are now adults, so it was awhile back.

As people visited, I noticed a beautiful cloud beyond the window, backlit by the dusk/twilight.

I stepped onto Warren's porch to take a picture of that cloud. Many people have the idea that once the sun goes down for the season, it is pitch dark here all the time.

As you can see, that is not true. Sometimes, a full moon will appear and the northern lights will glimmer, glow and dance in the sky.

I have not yet seen the lights this season, but have heard reports of them.

Warren's youngest daughter, Annie Luafulu, cradles her baby, Theresa Luafulu.

Darlene found a picture of her father for the bulletin cover, and another of her father and late mother, Martha.

Jacob thanked all those who had dug the grave, and those who had helped in many other ways.

Having had almost no sleep the night before, and very little for the previous painful weeks, I was extremely tired. Jacob invited me to come next door to his and Darlene's house and to nap on the couch. I did, and dozed into and out of a sleep that I felt that I wanted to stay in forever.

Not long after I awoke, Jacob's daughter, Nancy Grant, who lives with her husband in Oregon, came in. She and her dad exchanged hugs as they spoke of their love for Warren Matumeak, and for each other.

This story will continue, but it will take me some significant time to get the next part together. To give myself that time, I will keep this post into Thursday afternoon and will then put up a happy, quick and easy one covering a visit Santa Claus made to Barrow the other night. 

Then I will return and do my best to pay Warren the respect that he deserves.

 

View images as slides