Additional information
by Velma Wallis (Author)
Velma Wallis shares the love, loss, and struggle that mark her
coming of age in a two-room cabin at Fort Yukon, Alaska, where
she is born in 1960, the sixth of thirteen children. Family life is
defined by the business of survival: Haul water from the Yukon.
Kill a moose. Chop firewood. Feed the sled dogs staked around
the cabin. Run the trap line. Catch salmon. It is a time of innocence
and laughter, too, as the children escape into a world of
play under the midnight sun.
The once-migratory family has settled at the confluence of two
she is born in 1960, the sixth of thirteen children. Family life is
defined by the business of survival: Haul water from the Yukon.
Kill a moose. Chop firewood. Feed the sled dogs staked around
the cabin. Run the trap line. Catch salmon. It is a time of innocence
and laughter, too, as the children escape into a world of
play under the midnight sun.
Back Jacket
Born in 1960, the sixth of thirteen children, Velma Wallis comes of age in a two-room log cabin in remote Fort Yukon, Alaska. Life is defined by the business of living off the land. Chop wood. Haul water from the river. Hunt moose. Catch salmon. Trap fur. Take care of the dogs. For a thousand years, the Gwich'in clan had followed migratory animals across the north. But two generations before, the people had settled where the Porcupine River flows into the Yukon. Now, the Wallis family has a post office box and an account at the general store, and Velma listens to Wolf Man Jack on armed forces radio. The author discovers that her people have surrendered their language, traditional values, and religion to white teachers, traders, and missionaries. Flu epidemics have claimed many loved ones. Village elders seem like strangers from another land, and in a way they are. There is much drinking when the monthly government checks come, and that is when the pain comes out of hiding. RAISING OURSELVES is a gritty, sobering, yet irresistible story filled with laughter even as generations of Gwich'in grief seeps from past to present. But hope pushes back hopelessness, and a new strength and wisdom emerge.
