Juneau, Alaska

Juneau, Alaska

         The year is 2011; I fly into Juneau late in the afternoon and take a shuttle to my motel. In the eventide, I take a walk through town, past mod buildings and a few houses along streets that are dead and scary. I pass shops displaying off the rack fur items such as muskrat coats and shoes, puttees, mufflers, hooded parkas, mink socks, and animal dolls. One open shop that I enter, Is full of customers wearing furry boots and furred cloths. Most of the hats for sale are huge with arrogant designs. I guess there must be stiff competition between the fur shops in Juneau, especially because of the small population and remote location. I am curious to know where the stores get most of their customers and the curiosity forces me out of the shop. I lollygag further down the street. There are several other shops of the same kind on both sides, all closed. It is already dark but I don’t  want to stop looking around.

      As a natural scientist, I am here to investigate a pending case that has defamed the reputation of winter hunters in Alaska. Many of the most threatened endangered species dwell in cold climates. Polar bears risk becoming extinct but it is not clear who is precisely behind the mess. Word has it that there is an anonymous man who has threatened anyone who tries to stop him from killing polar bears, with death. He also stated in a random note to the newspaper that he is a freewheeling guy who lives in Juneau and that he would happily work with anyone who wants to hunt bears with him.

      Eight days later, I meet with four friends who flew to Juneau a few days after me. We travel by bus to see the famous Mendenhall glacier. We are all supposed to catch a flight back to Ohio at Juneau International airport, three hours from now. My friends decide to have drinks at a late night restaurant between the glacier and the airport. I, on the other hand, have opt to walk and meet them later, a legitimate decision as far as I can reason at the moment. They have made me promise to get back at the restaurant on time.

      Ahead of me on the boardwalk, a group of men laugh at some silly drunkard who is making a fool of himself by knocking his head on a wall. I walk by and take the next street to my right without any particular purpose; I need to head back to my friends soon. Just when am about to turn around, I hear a whistle. Lights flick off and on. There is a foot fall, then a clop. I am worried that I might have walked to far. I am at an impasse that seems to have me on a free highway to hell. I have a sudden urge to pee but I snuffle instead as the door to one of the shops opens. I should be doing myself a favor by disappearing. I turn around just in time to see a Wight with a five o'clock shadow recumbent on an empty hat rack by the door. He has his apron over his Cassock and appears aghast that I am out in the streets alone, window shopping at the wrong hour. I turn to walk away but he tries to shoot the bull.

Him: I like your overcoat.

I have to remind myself I am in Alaska where most people start a conversation with a compliment.

Me: (I face him with lessened fear) Thank you. Am glad you like it but it definitely cannot compare to the ones you are selling. They must be expensive.

Him: Wow, I like your parlance too...where are you from? My furs are a little bit costly but it's worth it. You want to take a look?

Me: Why not? Well ... (hemming)... Sure!

 I hesitate and glance at my wrist watch. I only have 30 more minutes to head back. Since I am not cocksure of what I am about to do I follow the man in; Trust has been my weakness from a time I can't get right in my memory. The store is well furnished. There are all kinds of cold weather attire and some handmade baskets and gloves. As I dawdle down the aisles, I must admit I am mesmerized by everything that is letter-perfectly displayed on the shelves. It's all about furriness-Furry Fedoras, furry Porkpies, furry Loden coats, furry muffs, various sophisticated furry garments, furry cut away coats and...Aha! Some odd looking furry eagle shoes that look like a famous cartoon character on some cartoon network which I can't recall right away.

Him: You like it?

He interrupts me. I whirl around and see him leaning on the hat rack-still smiling. I am bit embarrassed by my manners.

Me: What do you mean I like it? I love it! This is beyond what I imagined from outside. How come you haven't closed the store at this time?

Him: I work late nights. This is one of the best stores in this small town and I must keep it running for as many hours as I can.

He goes to the front and grabs a huge basket full of hats and gloves.

Him: I am a furrier- I make everything you see displayed and right now I just completed making these.

He empties the basket on the counter. I am breath taken. I take a few approach steps to have a closer look.

Him: You still haven't told me where you come from....

Me: This is great! Oh yeah sorry about that; I am from Kenya. You know where that is?
Him: Whoa! Hell yeah! East Africa! I have friends from there. Mabasa?

I cannot help but smile. I feel guilty for assuming he didn't know anything about my country. A good number of Americans I have met were unable to point Kenya on a map until Obama was elected as president of the U.S or when Kenyans won marathons. It is the same case with some Kenyans; Most of them cannot figure out where different states in America are located. Geography is limited to where people come from and what they ought to know for the simple facts of life.

Me: Mombasa…correct!

It's not important for me to tell him I precisely come from Nakuru, some few hours’ drive from the city of Mombasa, he wouldn't know the difference.

Him: You know, I can give you my friend's names and when you go back you tell them I said hey. I might come there again on my next vacation.

I am in the verge of tearing my ribs with laughter but then again it will be a reprehensible action. I think, 'Dude! Mombasa isn’t a club! It’s a city! Names and not numbers? Faulty idea! ...Fail!’ I want to let him know I am from Nakuru but wait....he's actually not joking! He has already written down three names on a piece of paper. Who reasons like that? He hands me the names and a quick look indicate no numbers. Again, I try with extreme effort to withhold my laughter that comes out as a smirk. 

Me: I will do my best but I cannot assure you.

Him: You know, I can quickly write them a letter. It’s more convenient. Why didn't i think of that in the first place!

He runs in the back for a notebook and returns with a torn piece of foolscap. It's very hard to slow him down-he is acting so fast!

Me: I will be very honest with you. If you give me the letter it won't reach them. See....it's...it is a complex situation. First, Mombasa is far from Nakuru. Second, I don't even know when I will get there. Probably after your 'next vacation' and third...

Him: Oh. Well. I will have to send somebody else then. He cuts me off.

He's obviously a little exasperated...'And third, it is bizarre giving me names as a guide! You are talking the language of looking for a needle lost in hay (sigh)'. I had to finish the sentence in my mind.

So where were we?

 Me: Okay, let's see.... you mean you made all these alone? You must be one very talented and hardworking Alaskan guy.

I am hoping he is not sulking about my inability to help contact his friends. His items are all so beautiful.

Him: (giggles) I believe I am the best and I take that as a compliment, thank you. I am Norwegian but I came out here coz I married an American. My family likes it here. I have now become an Alaskan inmate living in sort of a Hacienda, not far from town. My family helps me out a lot with my business. It's nice coz I get to do what I love most; make stuff through innovation. Since you are Kenyan and you might not know anything about this, I will be honest with you. I loathe two things, Bears and the American department of Commerce known as National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). Once upon a time I was a scientist but they sucked me dry after dedicating thirty years of my life as their weather researcher. I hope they all end up in hell. Sometimes I toy with the idea of bombing their center but my mother-wit tells me to wait and strike at the right time. Anyway, do not take it seriously. I now hunt and kill bears to pay my bills.

I stare blankly at him, speechless.

Me: (silence)...okay so...Do you...do you get a lot of customers?

I am surprised that I am able to utter words.

Him: I get my customers from all over Alaska. Most of them are tourists. I advertise my collection online which can be tricky but I cannot complain because I manage. I take turns with my wife. She likes making the baskets and the gloves while I come up with the designs of clothes and hats. Like I mentioned earlier, I excoriate Bears for fur. In other words, I pare them myself after hunting with my musket-looking side piece.

He points at a lengthy musket-looking side piece behind the counter. I raise my eyebrows and unknowingly start to retreat. A Jaeger must have a gun of course-Silly me.

Him: Oh do not think I am a gunslinger. Are you...oh no i am not that heinous. I only use the gun on those who put a frown on my face.

Me: I am...

Him: C'mon don't be shady and fusty. I know you might be thinking I am one of those odd balls and merciless animal phobic guys. Actually i am. A tourist woman who was my customer last year almost left her lovely fur boats when I told her I had killed a lonely bear to complete her order. I almost shot her. Actually I did. By the way, I don't scare you, do I?

Me: No...No...I am not scared. No you don't scare me. Believe me when I say I do respect animal rights but I am not that attached. You mean you deliver the items to your customers when they order them online?

The guy: No, the customers have to come direct to my store. I have not advanced to that level of high-tech. People can make orders if they don't find what they want here. I usually give myself time to make durable things. Sometimes I carry some of them back to Norway for sale but it all depends on the market. I love being here mainly because it is silent. There are not many people compared to Oslo, a city in Norway.

Me:  Let me guess, there is security around this place.

Him: Of course yes! Maximum security. They do not stop me from killing both bears and people. We need protection because it can get dangerous. Robbers might think we have a lot of money. That's the reason why most of the shops are closed at this hour but I, on the other hand, own a gat. It's survival of the fittest because we are living in a dog eat dog world. You have to promise me you will never tell a soul. C'mon take a look. Promise me?

He directs me to one of the transparent wide windows. There is a patrol car parked in one of the parking spaces outside the shops. I had not noticed.

Me: I promise.

It has been ten minutes past the time we were supposed to arrive at the airport. I just broke the one promise, I don’t intend to keep the other.

Me: I would have loved to buy something but I can't afford anything here except for any hand-me-down socks and that five inch funny-looking bear moppet. I like how it roars when you squeeze its stomach. It's been wonderful talking to you. I hope I will get to come back here and meet your family before I leave Alaska.

Him: Good! But remember to keep your promise or I will also bomb your home town, Nakuru. I know who you are. I never stay in one place and I will never get caught. If you come back I will show you how to make one of these.

He holds the funny-looking moppet by the tail and squeezes its stomach for a roar. I laugh and hold my two thumbs up then wave cheerio before rushing out.

       By hook or crook I must not allow the minute hand to outdo me but it’s a strain running up the dark street. My aspiration and my brain cannot keep up with the speed of my legs. I look behind and see men in black trailing me. There is a car keeping up with their pace, the same car that was parked outside the guy's shop. It has fake sirens.

      Did the man at the counter know the truth about me? I thought he was joking when he said he knew who I was? He did not ask for my name and neither did i ask for his. How did he find out I was working for NOAA as a natural scientist posted in Ohio? The five men are now running and the fake patrol car is speeding up to cover ground but there is no way I am going to lead them to my friends; I can’t draw them into my mess which is about to get nasty. I take on the wrong turn, away from the restaurant and away from the heart of the town, with the men and the car on my heels.

Author's Note

I have derived this story from real life experience in Alaska but most of it is imagination(thus fiction). The setting is Nonfiction; I have changed the character of the 'good' guy i met in Alaska to fit my story~line. However, the real 'him' lives in Juneau with his family. He is a furrier from Norway.

Below is my prof's review. Feel free to review too.

Zypy,
This is a fun piece of writing. I laughed as I read it because you got something about the voice of the fur dealer so correct. There are a lot of eccentric people living in Alaska, people who have ran from something going on in their lives in the lower forty-eight states and who think of every other place in the world as small and disconnected as the place they come from. You can ask someone in Alaska if they know someone else and make a connection. I’ve done it. When I was living there, we called it the biggest small town in the world. The dynamic between the character who is so worldly, and the character who has been stuck in a small place for a while is hilarious.
You also bring drama and narrative tension to the “case” your character is working on. This definitely feels like the pages of an intriguing detective novel.
A-/B+ = 90

Reviews

[Rachael]

You have a very interesting vocabulary. It gives your writing a personality.
Same with the grammar and word flow. It sounds a little strange to me at first but it matches the story so well that I would not change it.

There are some things that are a little hard to understand (to me). Like in this paragraph: "Just when am about to turn around, I hear a whistle. Lights flick off and on. There is a foot fall, then a clop. I am worried that I might have walked to far. I am at an impasse that seems to have me on a free highway to hell. I have a sudden urge to pee but I snuffle instead as the door to one of the shops opens."

I don't know if the whistle is from a person or from an actual whistle and I'm not sure what the "clop" is. Also the expression "a free highway to hell" confuses me. I'm not sure what you mean by it.

I do really enjoy the story though! I like where it ends. I like the conversations and the development of your characters and I like the way you describe most of the scenes. (Especially the furry merchandise!)

[Zypy Kirubi]

Coyote, i am glad you have enjoyed the story. You should absolutely go to Alaska...esp Juneau! It is such a wonderful place. Actually, my prof. lived there before she moved down South and she used to like it up there. The weather is fluky....but due to speculations about Global warming, there has bn a rise in temperatures. It was not extremely cold when i was there last. Alaska is even better(weather~wise) compared to Norway and North Pole.
Thank you again for reading and reviewing....i appreciate ;p

[Zypy Kirubi]

Thank you Chris G. ;P

[Coyote Poetry]

I enjoyed reading the story. You gave the story a interesting storyline and situation. I like the main character. I like the conversation in the store. I would love to go to Alaska. The mindset of people must be interesting and they must be strong people to live with nature and the hard weather. A very good ending. Left a open door for the next chapter. Thank you for the strong chapter. I hope to read more.
Coyote