DAD DROVE THEM TO THE REGISTRATION CENTER THAT STOOD OUTSIDE THE UNOFFICIAL BORDER BETWEEN EAST AND WEST ALASKA.
schools.” He pursed his lips. “I don’t mean to be stingy at all, but...” Kim giggled to herself. “You really do believe everything you hear.” She chugged down her milk and stood up, slamming the bowl down on the table. “You’ll be fine, calm down.” It was 9 am and there was a boy yelling in
Kelsey’s face on his first day of school. “I heard you were from West Alaska,” he said. “Is it true that everyone there is super poor?” “Um,” Kelsey looked away, backing as far away from the boy’s face as possible, “no, not really.” “Man, I knew something was up with that rumor,” said a girl who sat next to Kelsey. “What about the schools? I heard the government puts a lot of money into West Alaskan schools.” “They’re the same as here. I mean, we’re a bit more forward into the curriculum, but that’s all.” Kelsey was bombarded with questions all day, most of them about completely wild rumors. When he left school that day, Kim by his side, he couldn’t help but feel a bit dizzy. “They got you too, huh?” Kim laughed to herself. “I guess you’re not the only person who takes everything at face value.” “It’s just weird to think that both sides of Alaska are so similar.” Kim adjusted her bag. “I always kind of figured our differences weren’t as dramatized as they seem to be. Even if we almost had a borderline war like 20 years ago, we’re all humans, you know?” “I guess so.”
As Mom got healthier by the day, Kelsey grew more accustomed to living in East Alaska. There were minor differences between the two halves of Alaska, like a less strict dress code and cheaper food. He began to really enjoy living there. One night, Kim and Kelsey decided to sleep over in Kim’s room. “Hey, Kel?” Kel was laying on his side, his eyes closed, but sleep not reaching him. “What’s up?” “I was just thinking,” she shifted and the mattress springs creaked. “All our lives, we’ve been told that East Alaska was a crappy place, and now we’re being told that West Alaska is like that. Don’t you think that’s a bit weird? And also, isn’t it weird that everything seems so perfect here? You think there’d be some kind of flaw, but there isn’t. Makes me think that the authorities are just good liars.” Kelsey squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body tensing. He felt Kim’s eyes on him. Kim clicked her tongue. “Forget it.” It had been a year and a half of living in
East Alaska. Mom had fully recovered and Kelsey had finally unpacked the cardboard boxes in his room. A new student had showed up at school and sat down next to Kelsey at lunch. “Hey,” she started off, pulling out a notepad, “I’ve been trying to research West Alaska, and I heard that you used to live there. So,” she leaned forward, “what was it like there?” “In West Alaska?” Kelsey clicked his tongue. “I hated it there.” ■
P O E M M A K A M O N T U R E
WE, THE TONGUES
I cried an ocean At my grandfather’s feet when I was six years old. He was speaking With his friend Pearl In Tlingit about how the New people to our land treated them, how our language was Deteriorating. We, the peoples Whose tongues And languages Are vibrations, Reflections, Echoes of our ancestral environments. I cried for the Past, The present. I cry for a future In 30 years Where we are lifted out of this chasm. Where all Alaskans speak in In ancient prismatic languages We teach all Alaskans The names of the hundred personalities of Snow. I cry for a world Our native languages are thriving, not surviving. A world Where we laugh at our grandfather’s feet And when we chuckle, rainbows fall From Our tongues. A L A S K A H U M A N ITI E S F O R U M F A L L 2 02 1
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