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.

Lifted by the song; darkness coming on - for awhile, anyway

Back in the days before I broke my airplane and I would be somewhere in rural Alaska where the people had been singing - be it traditional musice accompanied by skin drums, gospel, fiddle or whatever, when I would finally leave and fly away, I would still hear the music in my head.

It would seem to me that it was not the flow of air against my wings that lifted up my plane to hold me in the air, but rather the flow and spirit of the music.

This is John Tagarook, performing in the singspiration that took place last night in conjunction with the Healthy Communities Summit.

Even though I was on the ground last night and not in my airplane, I got that same feeling again, as the people played and sang. I got the feeling that I could again sit in the cockpit of my own airplane, Alaska beneath my wings, kept aloft by the spirit of the people among whom I have been so fortunate to roam.

That would include Stephanie Aishanna, who, as you can see, sings with strong feeling.

Readers of yesterday's post would surely have noticed that winter has set in for good up here in the Far North. Elsie Itta, who here sings next to her husband, North Slope Borough Mayor Edward Itta, spoke of how hard this time of year can be on the spirit, when we know that the light is going and soon it will dark and cold all though the day.

Last year, the time of darkness was expecially hard on Elsie, as her mother passed away on the very day that the sun briefly rose for the last time that season and then slipped below the horizon for the next 63 days straight.

It was hard, she said. That was a long 63 days. But the sun did come back. No matter how dark it gets, the sun always comes back, Elsie said.

Here, she and those who sing with her, including Ada Lincoln, the Reverend Mary Ann Warden and Mabel Smith, perfom "Precious Memories... how they linger..."

This is Tiffany Kayotuk of Kaktovik with baby Calleigh Gordon, who is visiting from Anaktuvuk Pass.

The man pictured on the wall is Tom Gordon, who I once went moose hunting with in Anaktuvuk Pass, where he had lived for awhile. From that day forward, whenever I would see Tom, he would greet me with genuine warmth and love. He even used the word, "love."

In time, he moved from Anaktuvuk Pass back here to Kaktovik, his native village. 

In the summer of 2008, he was out hunting with his son, Simon, when a powerful storm hit. They were on land - a spit, I believe, when Tom slipped and fell into the water wearing his heavy hunting gear. Simon grabbed him and tried to pull him in, but wound up going out with him instead.

Both men drowned.

This past summer, Kaktovik, still grieving for this man who made everybody here feel just as he made me feel, and his son, staged a huge memorial Gospel celebration, for which they painted and decorated the cummunity center.

Since that time, nobody has wanted to take down the decorations and they are still there.

If I had known about that celebration, I would surely have come, but I first learned about it yesterday, when I walked into the hall and saw how it had been painted and decorated.

Singing beneath the portrait is Tiffany and Courtney Kayotuk.

Yesterday, I briefly mentioned the young guys who have come to the village from Utah. This is one them, Zac, who caught me off guard as I was eating and he suddenly broke out in break dance.

And this is Flora Rexford, who Eskimo dances in pure beauty, with her nephew, Colin. There will be an Eskimo dance tomorrow. I will make a point to show you.

A scene from the Healthy Communities Summit, early yesterday. 

Kids at play.

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