SPECIAL FEATURE

 

 

By Judy Thomsen 

 

Alaska is rich with unmistakable beauty. Majestic Mount McKinley; the dynamic, glaciated landscape and diverse wildlife of Denali National Park; miles of dense, lush forests and mountain ranges; hundreds of clear blue lakes and rivers; rich stores of natural resources; desolate tundra and windswept coastlines—it’s all there, and given intriguing names such as Yakutat, Knik, Skwentna, North Pole (a town), and 197½ Mile Creek.

 

LOST TOO SOON: Whalebones mark the cemetery located outside Savoonga. Many crosses 
bear names of teenagers and young adults. And there’s more: winter with its icy temperatures, dog mushing, and the Iditarod (a 1,150-mile sled-dog race through Alaska’s wilderness). Days when the sun barely rises; and days when the sun never sets. Wildlife abounds: whales, walrus, formidable grizzlies, and also moose—a possible 1,300-pound deterrent to leaving for work because one stands between your front door and your car.

 

My husband, Halvard, and I were thrilled when Ken Crawford, president of the Alaska Conference, invited us to visit this U.S. state.

 

“Alaska is a frontline mission field within the Adventist Church’s North American Division,” Ken said. “Come and visit some people and places.”

 

So we went—and had a taste of many of Alaska’s unique features. 

 

Ken accompanied us on our flights to Kotzebue, Nome, and finally St. Lawrence Island. In Nome, a town that looks surprisingly like the “old wild west” in nineteenth-century America, we shopped for groceries and found food prices to be extremely high. Currently, a gallon of milk costs nearly $10, and a 19-inch pizza goes for $34.

 

Ken, a pilot himself, explained that small-plane travel is essential in this region, because many villages have no other access to outside communities. One room at the Nome airport houses ticketing, a waiting area, security, and baggage claim. Our pilot loaded luggage into Bering Air’s 12-seat Beech 1900, then climbed into the cockpit for the flight across the Bering Sea to Gambell. The island is actually closer to Russia than to the mainland, and the outline of the coast is clearly visible some 40 miles distant.

 

A small settlement of wooden houses came into view as we approached the airstrip. Wispy fog hovered on the outskirts of the village. The ever-present ATVs brought a convergence of people, who met friends and family or picked up mail and a pizza.

 

In a way, life on St. Lawrence Island is simple—no freeways, cars, shopping malls, crowds, or demanding jobs. Streets have no names. In the summer no darkness comes to alert you that nighttime is approaching; and if the temperature should rise to 60 degrees, the native Yup’iks likely would call it a heat wave.

 

ADVENTIST CHURCH MEMBERS: Clement and Irma Ungott. Life here, however, is also harsh. Frigid, below-zero temperatures and 
snow inundate the towns in winter, when snow machines are the common mode of travel. A polar bear skin thrown 
across a porch railing is evidence of danger in the outdoors. The isolation makes it difficult to get supplies to the island, resulting in a high cost of living. For dental or medical appointments 
or even the delivery of a baby, resi-
dents must schedule a flight to 
Nome or Anchorage.

 

Both Gambell and Savoonga are small villages with populations between 650 and 700. Everyone 
knows their neighbors—in fact, 
each person most likely knows everyone else in town.

 

The Seventh-day Adventist churches in Gambell and Savoonga—
one in each town—are well-used 
on Sabbath, but the parsonages have been empty for quite some time. 

 

Clement Ungott, an Adventist 
since 1971, is the head elder of the Gambell church. He was born in Gambell—it’s his forever home, he says. The parents of his wife, Irma, were Adventists, and it was Irma who initiated his interest in the church.

 

“I decided of my own free will when I accepted the truth,” Clement said. “My mother was disappointed 
[at first], but before she died she accepted the Sabbath too.”

 

When Clement was young he was friends with Irma’s brother, but Clement had a special interest in Irma, as well. As was the custom, he lived with her family for a year. He was given a lot of tasks to do—often not the most desirable—to “prove himself.” With eyes twinkling and a little lift of her eyebrows Irma said, “They have to buy us.” Clement and Irma have been married for 47 years.

 

Witnessing opportunities, keeping the Sabbath during times of the year when the sun never rises or sets, staying in touch with church leaders in the Alaska Conference or others in the world church—these could be challenges in Gambell and Savoonga. But when asked about it Clement expressed only one need—a full-time pastor. “Pastors are always welcome,” he said. “I call it back-up.”

 

LIFE IN ALASKA: A polar bear skin and bleached whale bones are 
interesting contrasts to life in the lower United States. For Irma there is no place like St. Lawrence Island. “I love my home,” she said. “I never want to go away, even to Nome.” 

 

Gambell resident and Adventist church member Gerard Koonooka welcomed us to his home about 11:30 at night—it was as light as day. As a young girl, his wife, Esther, attended the Bristol Bay Adventist Mission School near Aleknagik and was baptized. When Gerard was baptized it was indoors in a makeshift baptismal tank, because the lake was covered with four feet of ice. As he stepped out of the tank, the water dripping from his robe froze on the floor.¹

 

Gerard owns a business in Gambell. Years ago he wanted to open a general store, but the policy of the wholesale company from which he would purchase supplies was to extend no credit to Alaskan natives. But with financial help from then Alaska Conference president Joseph Hansen, Gerard got a start. His few shelves quickly grew to a full-fledged business, which has expanded to include hardware and many other items. He now also serves as the island’s Internet provider.

 

Chester Noongwook, a church member who was baptized last summer, was sitting at his kitchen table when he welcomed us. With his retirement in 1963, regular sled-dog mail delivery ended in Alaska. A plaque from the United States Postal Service hanging in a prominent place is a reminder of his dedication to a job that could not have been easy—“Neither snow nor rain … nor gloom of night” would surely have been realities for Chester.

 

Television and the Internet have brought in the outside world. Whale and walrus meat drying on wooden racks and aging whale bones near the shore contrast sharply with what is seen on the television screen. The youth are caught between two worlds—the island could never provide a life like that shown on television. Many of the youth and young adults feel trapped by tradition, lack of means, and inactivity. Yet of those who leave, few stay away. The culture shock is simply too great.

 

The writing on the outside of town building walls declares: “Boring Boring Big Time,” “I Wish I Die Now,” “I Can’t Wait Till It’s My Turn.”² Depression is common, and many feel that alcohol provides them with an emotional way out. Tragically, suicide does, too. Many teens attempt to end their own lives. Wooden caskets buried only partially in the ground because of permafrost attest to the successful ones; crosses reveal that too many teens, too many young adults, have died.

 

Carol Seppilu is 22 years old. At the age of 16 she attempted suicide, waking in the hospital to learn that she had shot off the lower right side of her face. A mask covers her disfiguration, and she breathes through a tube in her throat.

 

“Alcohol is very dangerous,” she said, struggling to talk. “You don’t know what’s going to happen. It takes over and destroys you.”

 

Nine of Carol’s friends have been lost to suicide in the last six years.

 

Tears trickled down Carol’s cheeks. “We need faith-based help, someone to talk to about faith to keep strong,” she said. “I’m glad to be alive. I want to help my people.”

 

Other tragedies also touch the church. With tears in her eyes, Irma Ungott told of the heartbreak in her family. More than a year ago one of Irma and Clement’s four sons simply disappeared.

 

St. Lawrence Island is just one example of why Ken Crawford calls Alaska a mission. Though organized in 1929, the sheer size of the territory has deterred the progress of the church, and could discourage a less optimistic leadership. Financial constraints are a big factor—there simply aren’t enough workers. A church membership of 3,731 is divided among 38 churches and 15 pastors, meant to cover Alaska’s 586,400 square miles. 

 

Southern U.S. residents Bill and Elouise Hawkes heard an appeal by Ken Crawford at the Carolina, United States, camp meeting in 2008 and responded. They volunteered to move to Savoonga and are developing a suicide prevention program. Both are nurses with many years of experience. They began their life in Savoonga in February 2009. They’re finding that there’s just no place quite like the Arctic.

 

Retired couples, taskforce workers, student missionaries, volunteers—dedicated people can make a difference for the many who need the Lord and His healing touch. The latest word from Ken indicates that the majority of the conference’s mission slots for one- and two-year periods have been filled, and he says he’s thrilled. Many villages that had an Adventist presence at one time will now have it again.

 

As former Gambell and Savoonga pastor Rick Binford says, “God can use whoever is willing to be used.”