1
U N I T E D S TAT E S
Celebrating
Kenka Y
ells and screams shatter the morning air as campers emerge from their six a.m. polar plunge at Camp Polaris, a small Adventist mission camp in southwest Alaska. Their teeth chatter and their lips are blue, but they are emphatically not cold. They’ve waited an entire year to dive into this icy water again, and only the wafting scent of pancakes can coax them out now. “Kenka used to love the polar plunge,” says counselor Katie Purvis, with a wistful smile. “It feels so weird not to have her here. I can still see her running down the beach, you know? “She was so full of life . . . and love. Sometimes I’d feel arms around my waist and I’d look down to see Kenka smiling up at me.” Katie’s pool-blue eyes fill with tears, and I wonder whether it was a mistake to ask about Kenka. She, like all the camp staff, is trying to grieve the sixteen-year-old girl’s death privately and make the campers’ week as happy as possible. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to . . .” “No, it’s OK,” Katie says. “I want people to know about Kenka . . . and what Camp Polaris meant to her.” So, I keep asking questions, and the staff keeps sharing memories. And over the next few days, their memories, like brushstrokes, paint a picture so that I too can begin to see the beauty of Kenka Active. Kenka, like many children in the towns of Aleknagik and Dillingham, attended Camp Polaris each summer. It was her favorite place to be, whether she was zooming around the lake on a kneeboard or creating roses out of frosting to decorate her first cake.
20
2
3
4
