Western

Chevak Company Corporation President Roy Atchak’s office is on the second floor of a building in Chevak that was entirely engulfed in flames on Jan. 29.

“I’m glad there was only a couple of workers in there at the time it was starting up. We were just going to work,” Atchak said. He was late to work because he was having trouble with his Toyo stove at home.

The local hardware store took up the bottom half of the building. It was owned and operated by the corporation. Shelves were stocked with propane, ammunition, and other highly volatile supplies. And without adequate firefighting equipment to extinguish the blaze, Chevak’s public safety team decided to let the fire burn.

“It’s very important,” said Justina Cholok, who was born and raised in Chevak and works at the corporation’s grocery store just down the street. “People get stuff like washers, dryers, fridge, beds, bed frames, ammo, propane.”

She said that the hardware store was where residents could buy home appliances, parts for snowmachines and four-wheelers, motor oil, and other supplies.

Chevak’s corporation headquarters took up the building’s second floor, one of the largest in the village of nearly 1,000 residents. A landmark for decades, it was visible from almost anywhere.

“It’s gonna be weird going that way because we’re not gonna see that building no more,” said Cholok.

It’s unclear exactly what started the fire that totaled the building.

“It might have started around the furnace or Toyo stove,” Atchak said.

A cold snap has impacted most of the state of Alaska for the past week. Atchak believes that subzero temperatures in Chevak may have contributed to the cause of the blaze.

“Nowadays in villages I know they’re having problems with Toyo stoves, you know: too cold and might have been overworking. I am just speculating without the fire marshal’s verification on what really happened,” he said.

As of the afternoon of Jan. 29, the electricity was out to one section of the community, and residents who live in about a dozen homes were evacuated to the local school. Peter Tuluk, the general manager of the community’s local public radio station, KCUK, said that the station was briefly off the air. The station also serves two other nearby villages: Scammon Bay and Hooper Bay.

Three years ago, fire destroyed an old school building Chevak residents planned to renovate into a community center. In the fall of 2022, Typhoon Merbok damaged nearly all of Chevak’s boats and had a heavy impact on food security in the village. Atchak said that no community is immune to disaster.

“Cup’ik people, they go through hardship in life,” Atchak said. “At the same time, they don’t look back and say, ‘Okay, well I had that, I had this.’ But you just recover, and rebuild, and keep going forward, you know. There’s no such thing as stopping.” He said that’s a Cup’ik value.

According to Atchak, it will be about a week before he has a plan to to set up a temporary office for the corporation. He said that it will be a few months before corporate operations can resume. There’s no plan yet for a new hardware store.

Over 100 kids and their parents waited patiently for Santa and Mrs. Claus in the Tuluksak school gymnasium. The Alaska Army National Guard UH-60 Black Hawk from Bethel had to make two trips to Tuluksak, about 34 miles away. The first trip brought six passengers that included this reporter, representatives from the Salvation Army, and Alaska Guard members. Most importantly, of course, it also carried presents. But Santa was a bit delayed.

Chief Warrant Officer 2 Colton Bell is assigned to Golf Company, 2-211th General Support Aviation Battalion. He was the lead helicopter pilot for the mission.  

“We had Santa on the second flight. He was with the medics,” Bell said, referring to staff from the air medical transport company LifeMed.

In the middle of Operation Santa Claus, there was an urgent assistance call from the Alaska Rescue Coordination Center at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson in Anchorage.

“We got a rescue mission, patient transport from the village of Napaskiak about in the middle of it. So we took off from Bethel and took two LifeMed medics with us over to Napaskiak to drop them off, and then continue the mission up to Tuluksak. Dropped off those passengers, the second round of presents, and then returned back to Napaskiak. Picked up the patient and the two medics and transported them back to Bethel over to the hospital,” Bell said.

The wind and runway conditions made it too dangerous for LifeMed’s air ambulance to respond to a man from Napaskiak, who had gastrointestinal bleeding. So they called the rescue center for help.

Chief Warrant Officer 2 David Berg was the helicopter’s support pilot. He said, “we as a team, the whole crew here from Bethel. Plus the support team from Anchorage. Air Force and Army really came together to reconfigure the aircraft to include the medics and their equipment.”

Berg also said that it was a seamless transition to go from dropping presents, Santa, Mrs. Claus, and their team of volunteer elves, into a rescue mission. “And then go back and pick up the patient. And it all happened fairly smoothly. We had to shut down a couple times, but it was a smooth afternoon. In my experience, it was definitely a highlight of my career,” said Berg.

“So my role for this was purely to get the passengers loaded for the second leg. So normally when we’re loading and unloading with the rotors turning, we’ll have a backseater on board to make sure everybody gets out. Clear the aircraft safely,” said Chief Warrant Officer 3 Nicholas Lime, who served as the crew chief for the second leg of the mission.

According to the crew, they didn’t want to shut the Black Hawk down.

“We had a rescue mission, so we didn’t want to shut the aircraft off and have something not start back up. So we landed in Tuluksak and unloaded while we’re running. Make sure when he gets out safely away from the aircraft and then reconfigure the aircraft to put the back row or the stretcher across the back row, instead of presents, and then help the LifeMed people put the passenger in the aircraft,” Lime said.

Lime also said that the conditions in Napaskiak were wet, icy, and windy, not ideal conditions to transport a patient.

“Yeah, everyone’s okay. Nobody, nobody got dropped. Nobody slipped and no one got hurt. So yeah, it was a good mission,” Lime said.

The Alaska Army National Guard aviation facility in Bethel has been active since the Black Hawk’s arrival on Feb. 4.

The rescue center, which organized the medevac, said that the patient was stabilized and transported to Anchorage, where they remained in stable condition as of Thursday.

Then it was back to the mission of holiday spirit. The crew reconfigured the Black Hawk to allow for all 12 passengers, including Mr. and Mrs. Claus, to be picked up from Tuluksak, leaving the presents behind.

Although Santa and Mrs. Claus arrived a little later than scheduled in Tuluksak, the community immediately forgot about the tardiness when the honored guests arrived. And the pictures with Santa and Mrs. Claus, free ice cream, and presents helped.

Animal shelters around the state have seen a recent uptick of stray and surrendered animals, and it’s been an especially tough year for one organization who serves the Norton Sound region.

PAWS of Nome is a non-profit animal rescue and advocacy organization that provides no-cost animal related support to pet owners. The organization says it has saved thousands of animals since opening in 2013.

Emily Stotts is the president of PAWS of Nome. She said this year has been overwhelming, and the rescue has reached full capacity multiple times.

“Probably closing in on 700 to 750 animals that have been helped by us this year,” she said.

Animal Care and Control in Anchorage recently experienced several multi-week-long closures due to dogs testing positive for the highly contagious canine parvovirus. All services were furloughed until all animals were healthy, with the exception of pet adoptions.

During the closures, Stotts said rescues around the state received calls from desperate owners looking to re-home their pets. She said when PAWS of Nome reached maximum capacity, she had to deny surrender requests.

She said the number of dumped and stray animals has become too much for rescue organizations to handle on their own, especially in rural Alaska where there isn’t a strong animal control presence.

“It’s just me, and I’m out of space,” she said. “They’re in my own backyard, they’re in three facilities that I run, they’re at my friend’s houses as fosters.”

PAWS of Nome is run by volunteers and is funded through grants and donations.

Stotts said rural Alaska needs more support from government officials. Without government support, she said she worries the PAWS of Nome won’t continue. She cites North Slope Veterinary Clinic in Utqiagvik, which receives funding from corporations and provides animal control and limited veterinary services.

“If we stop what we’re doing here, that is going to devastate what’s going on in Anchorage and Fairbanks and everywhere else,” she said. “Everywhere has no room.”

PAWS of Nome encourages residents to call and write letters to local and state government officials requesting their support of animal rescues.

Loretta Smith has gotten three letters from the Association of Village Council Presidents Regional Housing Authority, her landlord. She only has one of them, though. The others she said that she tossed out.

“I was trying to keep all of it for my records, you know. I threw the other ones away because I was like, ‘Ugh, forget these guys,’” Smith said.

Smith lives in one of more than a dozen apartments set up as low-income housing in Hooper Bay. The floor is spotless, the furniture is sparse: there’s a small couch, a table and chairs in the kitchen, and another table with a television against one wall. A blanket with the Lord’s Prayer woven in brown cursive letters hangs on another.

Smith moved here with her 5-year-old son, Jackson, about a year ago after their home was damaged by Typhoon Merbok in 2022.

“It couldn’t be fixed or anything,” Smith said. “It belonged to my great-grandpa. And it’s pretty old. So, you know, it was probably already in a rotting state. It got flooded. The porch collapsed.”

Smith’s family is one of three who lost their homes and most of their possessions during the storm last year. Two of those families, including Smith’s, are still trying to find a permanent solution.

Smith didn’t own her house, so she only qualified for rental assistance from the Federal Emergency Management Agency. She said that she received between $3,000 and $4,000. A letter from FEMA dated Oct. 22, 2022 confirms that. But it also says that the agency expects her to either return to her old home or find other long-term housing as soon as possible.

It’s unclear what FEMA means by long-term housing.

Smith’s placement in the Regional Housing Authority apartment complex was granted on a temporary emergency basis, but she said that she can’t stay after Oct. 31.

“Where do they expect us to go with no place to live?” Smith said. “This is pretty frustrating, you know, with the lack of housing here, especially for my son. If I have no choice, I’ll probably ask to live with some relatives.”

Smith was careful with her words as she tried to explain why her options were limited.

“Living in the women’s shelters and living with relatives. Nah. I just want to be in my own space with my son. You know where we, because I’m a sober person,” Smith said. Memories of her past living situations brought her to tears.

Smith isn’t the only resident in Hooper Bay who was displaced by last year’s storm. And hers isn’t the only family that could be without housing by the end of the month.

Martin Joe, his wife Lois and eight children ranging in age from 1 to 18 live right next door. They share a wall with Smith.

“I’d rather have my old house back,” said Joe. “Everybody misses it.”

Joe said that it was easier on his kids. They had more space to play and run around, and they could be loud in a house. Here in the apartment they have to stay quiet and go to bed early.

But their old house is unlivable. The storm surge lifted it from the foundation, spun it around and dropped it along the side of one of Hooper Bay’s main roads. It has been sitting there, wedged up against a power pole, ever since. The family has to see it every time they drive to the store.

“I’ve been in there and it’s real moldy,” Joe said. “Walls are getting all warped and everything. It’s real bad mold. And right when you go in there, you just smell the mold right away.”

The house used to belong to Joe’s grandfather, who gave it to him. Because he owned the home, it’s unclear why FEMA didn’t provide assistance to rebuild it. Joe said that FEMA gave his family $50,000. That money has been spent on new clothes for their kids, a new couch and two new beds. It has also covered their rent and utility bills, and kept this family of 10 fed for the last year.

An accident this summer left Joe with two broken feet, so he is unable to work. He said that he has been told that he doesn’t qualify for disability benefits.

Lois, Joe’s wife, works two to three times a week selling pull tabs for the Hooper Bay tribe.

“I keep wondering where we’re going to stay, what we’re going to do and how we are going to do this,” Lois said. Although she’s happy around her children, she also said that she’s exhausted. Joe said that they’ve had a lot of sleepless nights in the last year.

Rental housing in Hooper Bay is severely limited. Both Smith and the Joe family have requested extensions to stay in their apartments. Smith recently received a call from the Regional Housing Authority. It denied her request.

The regional housing authority has not yet responded to emails or phone calls for more information.

This reporting was supported by a grant from the Center for Rural Strategies and from the nonprofit media organization Grist.

In Hooper Bay and Chevak, kavlakuaraq, also known as blackberries or crowberries, are missing from the tundra.

“Uh, there’s almost next to nothing,” said Victoria Hill, who works for the Hooper Bay Tribal Council. “My dad said he went out there towards back of town and there was maybe scattered all over. Not like a carpet like it used to be; they were just scattered. You had to go far.”

A massive storm in 2022 brought flood waters to this part of Alaska, and the tundra was inundated with salt water for days. Add to that a cold and rainy summer, and Roy Bell said that it’s the perfect recipe for a blackberry crash.

“I noticed that the areas where they flooded, some of the plants, many, like the medicines and the berries, they’ve all gotten bad,” Bell said. And he said that it’s not just the crowberries. Lowbush cranberries are also missing, and many of the medicinal plants he uses don’t look healthy.

“It’s probably the salt water,” Bell said.

In Hooper Bay, Bell’s family and friends in Hooper Bay call him “the botanist.”

When he was very young, his parents and elders discovered that Bell had a knack for understanding and identifying the plants.

“I’m one of the last generations that took that talent test with the Elders, and my talent was the plants,” Bell said.

Now in his fifties, Bell has spent his whole life studying the land and plants that blanket the tundra along Alaska’s Bering Sea coast.

“No mechanics, no boats, no nothing. Just land and plants,” Bell said.

This area has flooded before, but Bell said that previous floods haven’t had nearly the impact on local foods. It’s not just the plants that haven’t returned this year.

“It’s either foxes, or the owls, or the hawks,” Bell said.

Lots of residents are also reporting fewer birds of prey and predators on the landscape. And that may be because those animals haven’t been able to find their own food: mice.

Much of the low lying land that stretches nearly 20 miles from Hooper Bay inland to Chevak was flooded: a catastrophic scenario for a mouse. The tiny rodents store up plant roots for the winter months. Locally it’s called mouse food, and it’s a delicacy out here in Cup’ik country. Mark Ulroan in Chevak said that it’s his favorite.

“They’re called teardrops. We call them utngungssaq and then those long roots, we call it marallaq. So those are the two main ones that we get every year for ingredients, like if we cook our seal soup. At the end of it, we add those.”

Ulroan said that they taste both sweet and nutty and they have a good crunch. But this year he wasn’t able to find any.

“No, nothing. Zero.” Ulroan said. “ I don’t know if there’s gonna be any mouse out there because all that Merbok just drive ‘em up to the high ground, I guess, or kill ‘em.”

Some people haven’t been able to get out on the water since the storm.

Stella Lake lives in a house that overlooks the Ninglikfak River in Chevak. All summer and into fall, she has watched friends and neighbors head out to go catch fish and hunt seal. Her boat motor was submerged in floodwaters for three days after last year’s storm, and efforts to repair it haven’t been successful.

“Here’s a season where boats go for and everybody’s excited to go, like berry picking season, moose hunting season. And I watch the boats. I can see the river here,” Lake said, pointing to her kitchen window. “It gets me emotional. We can’t go. My baby, he loves hunting, and he breaks my heart to listen to him, man. Why can’t we go?”

Lake’s son, 12-year-old Kade, sat next to her on a cozy couch, looking toward the window. “We don’t get to go to our fish camp, or seal hunting, or go to camps, or get eggs, or pick berries, or go moose hunting. We can’t do all of that because our motor’s not fixed,” he said.

Kade said that being out on the land is his favorite thing to do.

This reporting was supported by a grant from the Center for Rural Strategies and from the nonprofit media organization Grist.

On any given day in Bethel’s airport terminal most people are speaking Yugtun, or Yup’ik. Hundreds of passengers travel to and from some of Alaska’s most remote Indigenous communities. Much of the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta’s store-bought food travels through these same terminals, as well as supplies and equipment people might need in response to a natural disaster.

Those supplies were necessary last year after Typhoon Merbok, one of the most powerful storms in decades, destroyed homes, fish camps and subsistence gear along Alaska’s Bering Sea coast.

With Yugtun the most widely spoken Indigenous language in the region, the Federal Emergency Management Agency hired California-based company Accent on Languages to translate information on disaster assistance into Yugtun and Iñupiaq — another Indigenous language spoken by thousands.

But when Julia Jimmie, KYUK’s translator, got some of those translated materials, she couldn’t understand them. That’s because they were gibberish. It turns out the company FEMA hired to do the translations has no record of working in the Indigenous languages spoken in Alaska.

Jimmie grew up speaking Yugtun.

“There’s a lot of Yup’ik. There’s kids still growing up [with] Yup’ik as their first language and they go to school and learn English,” she said. “I text my kids in Yup’ik. They respond in Yup’ik and people are posting in Yup’ik on Facebook and yeah, Yup’ik is still alive.”

In September, FEMA Administrator Deanne Criswell, her chief of staff and chief counsel received a memo from the Department of Homeland Security’s Office for Civil Rights and Civil Liberties. According to the memo, a “complaint investigation” is examining how FEMA interacted with Alaska Native communities in the aftermath of last fall’s storm.

That complaint cites KYUK’s investigation into the mistranslations as the reason it launched its investigation.

According to the memo, the office wants to find out “whether there are systemic problems” with the way FEMA works with Indigenous communities in Alaska. The office is also looking into whether FEMA violated any laws, regulations or its own policies.

Sam Berlin, who hosts a weekly radio show in Yugtun on KYUK, said he’s thrilled.

“I think that’s a very positive thing and to know that they would take the time out for people way up here, especially in our area, when some type of disaster happens, that we can look to our government and get some kind of response,” he said.

The mistranslations were particularly galling to Berlin, who grew up speaking Yugtun, because he remembers a time when the federal government forbade Alaska Natives and American Indians from speaking their languages at all.

“Yeah, assimilation: this is what was happening,” he said. “They were trying to do away with our language.”

In an emailed statement, U.S. Sen. Dan Sullivan wrote that “there is no excuse” for the unintelligible translations “that leave Alaska Native people without the vital information they need in a crisis.”

Sullivan said his office would be closely monitoring the investigation.

The Department of Homeland Security’s Office for Civil Rights and Civil Liberties did not respond to a request for comment on its investigation.

Accent on Languages CEO Caroline Lee declined an interview, but in an email, said she has revamped her company’s quality control procedures.

“We have instituted … a complete overhaul of our translator vetting, onboarding and evaluation processes; and the requirement for all linguists to sign and adhere to a strict code of ethics,” she wrote.

FEMA’s deputy director of external affairs, Lucas Hitt, also declined an interview. FEMA maintains the Accent on Languages has reimbursed the agency for the botched translation work it did following Typhoon Merbok. And last January, the agency told KYUK they were “no longer working” with Accent on Languages.

But according to a federal spending database, FEMA has opened nearly $480,000 in contracts with the company since last September, which does not include a contract the agency said it ended with Accent on Languages once the fraudulent translations were discovered. It’s not clear how much of that money has been paid out.