Greg Mortenson, Three Cups of Tea
the kids from nowhere
“Welcome to three-wheeler capital of theworld!” grins the nearly toothless Yupik school janitorgreeting George Guthridge as he and his family arrive by seaplane inremote St. Lawrence Island. They are in the middle of “nowhere”, in the Bering Strait between Alaska and Siberia. The land is low to the sea, with a cluster of small, unpainted homes that show the wear and tear of snowy Arcticwinters. There is a stillness, with “only the shush of thewind and the soft slap of waves against the black gravel beach.”
Hired as a teacher for the tiny village of Gambell, theGuthridge family is taken to a tiny weather-beaten shack made ofdunnage lumber from ships half a century before. This will betheir home. “Maybe moving here wasn’t such agood idea,” Guthridge thinks.
Guthridge recounts his first year in Gambell in the kidsfrom nowhere, the new book selection for HuntingtonBeach Reads One Book. His introduction to Yupik lifereveals a people caught between ancient ways and an intrudingcontemporary world. With humor, Guthridge reveals the wry wit andintelligence of students others had underestimated.
Readers will find the book hard to put down, as it vividlyintroduces the rural villagers’ subsistence life in theArctic.
The Guthridge family adapts to harsh weather, lack of plumbing, racism,death and the twilight of Arctic winters. In this quiet culturewhere raised eyebrows mean “yes” and stoic facesdon’t always mean a lack of interest; Guthridge learns toredirect his teaching to connect the lesson with the Yupik way. In turn, his students—who call themselves “the kids from nowhere”—begin to reveal profound insight about their livesand the outside world, while achieving what no one thought waspossible.
Join Huntington Beach Reads One Book as we journeyinto the Artic with George Guthridge and meet the kidsfrom nowhere. Then gather with us when wemeet George Guthridge in early 2009 when he visits Huntington Beach.
Book Excerpts
“Why bother?” Boone says, his earlier enthusiasmgone. “We’re Eskimos. Nobody cares aboutus.”
“I care,” I tell him.
“Because we’re special, right?”—his tone nowone of angry sarcasm.
“Because I’m special,” I tell him.
He gives me a look as though I have abruptly gone through are-appraisal. His lips remain tight, but the smile returns to hiseyes. He takes the book from Merle and heads
down the hall. Merle hurries after him, but stops and looks back.
“Maybe you can last the whole year,” he tells me. “Maybe.”
____________
“I was in Anchorage a couple of months ago,” hesays, in a low voice choked with emotion. “I went up toBarrow with my dad for this year’s IWC meeting.” Perhaps seeing my confusion, he adds, “The International WhalingCommission. The boat captains meet to decide how many strikeseach village gets next year.”
This he need not explain. I know, because of publicpressure, that maritime Eskimos are allotted a given, and small, numberof harpoon strikes during whaling. The captains determine whichvillages receive which amount.
“We stopped in Anchorage on the way back.” Tears brim in his eyes. “I was downtown, shopping. And I…and I saw people looking at me.” He glancestoward me briefly and then away, and with what seems conscious efforthe blinks against his tears. “I knew what they werethinking, George. I could sense it. ‘There goesanother village Eskimo,’ they were thinking. ‘Theregoes another dumb village Eskimo.’ “
His mouth tightens. “I know I’m smart!” He shakes his head. He appears weary, worndown by intolerance.
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For Alaska Bibliography Click Here
Postcards Photos(PDF)
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