My sketch of an Aleut Shaman circ.1700AD
At the top of this mountain, our circle rainbow appeared with us in the middle
Oct 13th Waited up til 11:00 last night for the mail to come in, it didn't come so we went to bed. This forenoon The DREAM GIRL and the THRASHER went over to Northwest Bay, and picked it up from another fishing boat that had transferred it over to us. All the kids were late for school because they had packages and mail to open. Today one of the Coleman lanterns fell from the ceiling. Luckily, no one was under it and it didn't start a fire.
On our 36 square miles of island, there are at least 400 lakes. With so many lakes on so small an island there isn't much land in between them. The lakes become a spawning ground for the red salmon as well as a haven for ducks and geese. I went on many successful hunts for Emperor geese, one of our sources of fresh meat for the winter.
Our laundry day routine was an example of primitive. Metal Blazo cans with wire handles were the buckets we hauled water from the spring, 200 yards up the hill. Water was heated on the stove, then Marie used an old scrub board with the Fels Naptha bar soap to wash the clothes.
Marie and the wash board
Another supply of water was heated for the rinse before the hand-operated ringer was used to squeeze the rinsed clothes. They were taken to the classroom and hung by the schoolroom oil stove to dry, after the kid went home.
Then we mopped the classroom floor with the rinse water for its 2nd use and some of it went to a 3rd use in the chemical toilet. All water had to be packed outside and dumped. There were no drains as they would freeze and be useless in winter.
Health services, to most of the Westward Islands, were furnished by the power barge M.V. ALASKA HEALTH. That state sponsored program visited all Aleutian villages once a year that had a good anchorage. They came with a doctor, dentist and 2 nurses. The populations that weren't visited, were expected to bring their kids by private fishing boat to the village that was visited, whenever they were notified of the ALASKA HEALTH 's arrival date. Sanak, of course, was never visited, so our people seldom took advantage of this service. A few families went over if the barge went to King Cove during the summer.
In these isolated villages, people develop very little natural immunity to outside bacteria. On Sanak, in mid-winter, one case of strep throat from some source, quickly spread to become a village epidemic. I radioed the Alaska Health Department to ask for aid. After four days, they answered back that they wanted more information about our problem. That took another week of delay, as each radio transaction took days to get through on Peter Nielson's battery-powered rig. His marine radio used a six volt battery that had to be charged up by his little wind generator. The transmitting conditions were poor even for the short distance of 60 miles, which was the nearest boat that could start the relay of our message down the line to the Health Department at Kodiak. Because of this uncertain communication link, we felt we were on our own with little medical support from outside.
Marie and I were beginning to believe all the Sanak horror stories and the “hard luck” label they had given this school. Our situation looked even more hopeless when I started getting sick myself from a serious pain in my throat. Soon I became weak and unable to function, as I couldn't swallow. None of our home-spun remedies worked. We tried gargling with saltwater, wrapping a warm scarf around the throat with Vapo-rub and taking aspirin. Nothing relieved it. We were already out of the big green penicillin pills that our stateside doctor sent up with us. Marie was in despair as she couldn't do anything to make things better. It became life threatening as I steadily got worse.
The condition of others in the village was similar. Emil Gunderson couldn’t swallow as his throat was also slowly closing up. His family felt he had to be evacuated immediately and that the teacher should go with him for medical help. It would have to be by sea, even though we were in the midst of a snow storm with high winds and heavy seas. His own forty foot boat was the only one big enough to weather that sea, so the THRASHER would have to take on the responsibility. Emil was flat on his back, unable to walk or talk so couldn’t be the skipper of his own boat. The village held a meeting, picked a crew, and planned the stormy trip to Cold Bay, where there was a small U S Air Force maintenance station. There was no doctor there but it was known to have a sick bay with a pharmacist mate who, it was assumed, could contact a doctor from Kodiak.
My sketch of the THRASHER
It had to be a desperate situation for anyone to be out in that storm during winter in a tiny fishing boat. We were both tossed completely out of our bunks onto the deck twice during the first hour but the experienced village crew handled the storm well and by seven thirty that night we chugged up next to the Air Force dock. Because we were unable to give Cold Bay any advance radio warning that we were coming, the Officer of the Day came storming down to the dock to see what was the intrusion at the port of his military installation. When he heard our story, he quickly drove us out to the airstrip to see a Navy doctor, whose plane just happened to be stopping for fuel on a flight from Adak. It was lucky for us we came when we did.
Both of us went to the small Air Force dispensary to say "Ahhh" after which the doctor put me in the Cold Bay infirmary and took Emil, who was much worse, to the Kodiak Navy Hospital with him in the waiting plane. The Navy doctor thought I would be better in two days, but instead I got worse. The medic didn’t know what to do for me so he sent a telegram to the doctor saying, “Your patient here is not improving.” The Navy answered back, “Your patient there just needs rest and more penicillin.”
One day, I took four pain pills the medic had stashed in a cup near me. I was desperate to stop the extreme pain, but the pills were ineffective. I couldn't eat nor sleep because of the choking. I finally got up and started walking to get my mind off the situation. There was so much swelling that I couldn’t talk. I had to write on paper what I wanted to say to the medic. There was pain under my tongue, in the glands of my neck, in my ear and my teeth became loose in the gums. I could barely breathe and imagined that a python was around my neck slowly squeezing my life away. That was not good! The medic sent another frantic telegram, even signed by the base commander, to the doctor in Kodiak asking to have me sent to his hospital. The Navy’s answer was just more penicillin shots. I was choked off so badly it was affecting my breathing, talking and swallowing. This was clearly a very serious situation. I was not a member of the Air Force so no one was taking responsibility for my condition. I realized that even though I was in a medical facility, I might just die there amidst these medics. It seemed