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sage-nebula · 5 years

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Okay, now that I finally have a minute, I can finally talk about the biggest event of the day:

GEN! 8! REVEAL! FAM!!

In a way, this was not surprising at all. The official Pokémon YouTube channel had been posting promotional videos of all the main regions for the week leading up to today (Pokémon Day), and once a Direct was announced we knew that they would not use that Direct for anything less than Gen VIII. Nintendo and Game Freak have made some questionable decisions in the past, but even they would not be so foolish as to dedicate a Direct to anything but a new set of games, particularly since they’d already promised us Gen VIII would be coming out this year. (Which is why those who are angry that this announcement wasn’t for Sinnoh remakes don’t really make a lot of sense. We were promised brand new core titles for a 2019 release. This couldn’t have been anything but that.) Even so, I am still thrilled by what I saw in the trailer, and I still want to talk about it because I’m so excited.

So:

Pros:

The Region: Some leaks that had come out ages ago suggested that the region could be based off the UK, and I’m so happy to see that was true. (Very little else in the leaks came true, but I’m okay with that, too; Sword and Shield are much better version names than Crown and Scepter.) The region itself looks like it’s going to be beautiful, both in terms of its countryside areas and its urban areas. It reminds me a bit of Unova in that way, how there’s a bit of a divide there, and with that divide emphasized in this reveal trailer, I wonder if that’s going to affect the plot. Either way, I’m truly excited about the region itself, particularly with some of the shots of it that we saw (both interior and exterior) in the trailer.

The Graphics: On that note, the graphics are so nice! There’s so much detail everywhere! In particular I can’t help but think of shots like the library the female trainer was standing in near the end, or the various towns the characters ran through . . . I know some people were hoping for hyper realistic graphics, but that’s never been Pokémon’s style. I’m just glad that these games are so, so much prettier than Let’s Go. I’m so glad all the models and the environment was fixed.

Random Battles are Back In: Speaking of things that were fixed, we can actually train our pokémon again! I was very relieved when I saw that, haha.

Gyms: We’re also back to the Gym system, which is also something of a relief. Honestly, I don’t mind the concept of the Island Trials, but I don’t feel that it was implemented well at all. The Trials themselves were basic and empty, and in many ways felt like watered down Gyms. In USUM it was even worse since you weren’t even allowed to explore during them (and instead had the Captain walking you through the Trials, such as in Mallow’s). Since they weren’t going to get creative with the Trials, I’m glad they’ve scrapped them to go back to the Gym system. Hopefully we’ll get a dark-type Gym this time around.

The Starters: The starters are all so cute! My favorite is Scorbunny (whom I keep calling Scorbunny-bun, haha), but I like Sobble and Grookey as well. Which one I pick will depend on the final evolutions (since I can’t just not look, although I will say I do miss the days of my youth when final evolutions were a surprise and you picked your starter based on first impression), just like which version I get will depend on version differences, but at the moment, if I had to just pick today? It would be Scorbunny. Little soccer bunbun is so cute, I love him. (Sobble would be my second choice, and Grookey my third.)

The Trainers: I LOVE BOTH OF THE TRAINER DESIGNS SO MUCH!! I actually feel like trainer customization might not be back in (more on that in the next section) because we didn’t see any customization in the trailer, and both of the designs are more detailed this time around (whereas the boy design at the least is usually generic in customizable games). But even if we don’t, I’m fine with that. I love both of the designs. I do wish the girl was able to wear pants for the snowy areas, but I love her sweater and her haircut, and the boy’s hat is cute. Really, they’re both fashionable and cute kids. I love them.

The Box Mascots: Of course we know nothing of the legendaries (legendary?) yet, but they look very lupine and I’m excited about that. GIVE ME MY SWORD WOLF, GAME FREAK!!

The Cons:

No Trainer Customization?: We might get a surprise here and that might be back in after all, but right now it looks like it might not be, so that’s a potential con for me.

No Following Pokémon?: Most of the shots that we saw of the gameplay looked empty (for instance, no other NPCs in town shots), so maybe we will get following pokémon and they’re just not able to show that yet. Bu tif we don’t, that’s also something that will make me sad, albeit it’s also something I can live with, haha.

No Pokémon in Overworld: While I am THRILLED that wild battles are back because that’s a deal breaker for me, one thing I actually did like about Let’s Go is that you could see pokémon on the overworld, and I do wish they had implemented that here. But again, I can live with it not being implemented, haha. I’m fine with wild battles, too.

The Miscellaneous:

Professor?: The leaks I talked about earlier mentioned that these games have no professor, and that we instead receive our starters from a princess. No idea if that’s true or not yet, obviously, but if it’s not and we do still have a professor, I want them to be either Poké David Attenborough or Poké Jane Goodall. (And on a related note, if the monarchy is in this game, let me throw down with the queen pls.)

Give Us the Great Galaran Bake Off: You know how each gen has a little side gimmick? Like we had Contests in Gen III, Super Contests in IV, PokéStar Studios in V, and so on? Give us Bake Off in Gen VIII. The Great British Bake Off has popularity that transcends its borders and it would be so great to implement that into these games. The bonus is that when the Galar anime starts up, there can be an episode where Ash somehow makes his way into the tent as a baker (and I say somehow, because you have to audition and everything and prove yourself worthy of being there irl and Ash cannot cook or bake for anything) and then is the first person eliminated because his pastries have soggy bottoms and are not crisp, and also his cakes have overbaked sponges and you cannot see the layers in there at all. (I hope the anime gives us that episode even if we don’t have the gimmick in the games. Come on, PokéAni. Show us the forbidden Poké Mary Berry and Poké Paul Hollywood, along with Poké Mel and Sue.)

Anime’s English Dub: On that note, I both am and am not looking forward to TPCi hiring garbage actors who will absolutely brutalize every single British* accent they have in their cast. If it was 4Kids, I would trust them to hire actors who know what they’re doing. But TPCi? I remember what they did to Alan. I’ll never forget nor will I ever forgive what they did to Alan. They hired a no-name rando off the street who had no talent whatsoever to voice Alan. If they do try to make the Galaran characters British, there is no way those accents will be passable. It will be a travesty. That said, if the PokéAni actually had a good job with a talented cast, I would pay them actual money to make Ash’s female companion have a Cockney or south London accent. I LOVE those accents and I would love to have a character with one on the main cast. They could also give Ash’s male companion (should he have one) a Scottish accent to just complete the whole dynamic and it’d be incredible. Like I know they’d probably go for standard pronunciation, but god what I wouldn’t give for regional accents for an English dub of the Galaran anime. It would be incredible. (*I said British instead of English here because not all British accents are English. Scotland is part of Britain, and therefore a Scottish accent is a British accent, for example. So believe me, I wasn’t conflating British and English; I know the difference, and I was incorporating all of them.)

Unova vs. Galar Rivalry: I want to see some (friendly) rivalry between Unova and Galar, just like those posts from Ye Olde Tumblr where Americans and Brits would get into “fights” over things. Obviously Unova is not the only United States region (Alola and Orre also exist), but it’s the one up in New England, and the one most blatantly American, I feel. It’d be neat to see that in the game. (And on an unrelated note, was Galar the region that warred with Kalos 3,000 years ago? Hmm . . .)

All in all, I’m super excited and I just can’t wait for these games. November can’t come fast enough (and neither can more info, haha)!

#pokemon #feel free to send me asks and stuff about this too guys #i love Pokémon so much I could talk about it all day

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jkdavidson-blog · 7 years

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Standing Rock Recap Part IV (12/24-12/27)

24 December 2016

A post from Facebook, which accompanied several photos from camp:

Some late photos from my wanderings around camp on the Solstice...I walked across the Cannonball River, frozen solid, and offered tobacco to the land and the water. Just a couple of hours meandering through camp completely wore me out and reminded me to be gentle with myself, as I am still on the mend. But it was well worth the fresh air and sunshine.

In other news, looks like we will be enjoying a very white Christmas here at Standing Rock. The forecast is calling for 12-18inches of snow tomorrow and white-out blizzard conditions. So I guess my biggest dilemma today is where do I want to position myself for that time? Must consult my guides and angels on that one...

Happy Saturday, Merry Christmas Eve, and lots of love and hugs to you all!!

Christmas Eve was one of my favorite days of all at Standing Rock, mainly because of the good company I enjoyed and the sweat lodge I was blessed to be a part of. I wrote pretty extensively about these experiences already, thought, so I won’t rehash them here. I’ll just say again how thankful I am for the privilege of this experience. Aho!

Go forward without fear, But walk humbly, And walk always in prayer.

25 December 2016

Well, it certainly has been a Christmas to remember.

Yesterday I spent the day at Rosebud camp. I hung out in the latrines for a bit, because it happens to be one of the warmest places around. I warmed my frosty toes by the barrel stove as Nahko played on someone's blue tooth speaker. People stopped and chatted with me, and even thanked me for being there, assuming that I was the volunteer watching tending the place. There is so much gratitude being offered here, all the time, & that's a powerful thing! One woman asked me to hold her baby while she took her toddler to the potty. What an unexpected joy to hold this quiet, wide-eyed wonder...what an honor for that woman to trust me enough hand her precious infant over to me without thinking twice.

On my walk back toward the medical tent, I happened by an inipi (sweat lodge) where a man was heating stones for a ceremony. "She wants to join! Come have a seat!" He announced so confidently, I knew I'd finally found a sweat lodge to partake in. An indigenous man gave up his seat beside the fire-tender for me. I sat beside Mike, a Lakota man, and he instructed me briefly about the ceremony and told me when the stones would be hot, when I should return to that space.

I returned as the sun was setting, wrapped in a skirt according to Lakota tradition. We stood with our heads uncovered in the wind and snow as Mike said a blessing. As the only woman present, I was asked to enter the lodge first. I stripped away my boots and layers hastily in the 20-degree weather, bowed before the inipi, and crawled inside.

All of the other men except one were Natives, and much of what was said was in their indigenous tongue but I listened to the feeling of the words and even found myself singing along with them. They honored and thanked me for showing up there to represent the feminine and balance the lodge. It was a deeply humbling experience, like so many of my other encounters here.

Two coyotes appeared by our medical tent after the lodge, so close I mistook them for dogs. But they weren't threatening, just passing through.

Tonight, I enjoy a sharp contrast as I sit in the casino lobby observing how different the cultureand vibe are here, between 4 walls, versus that at camp amidst circular dwellings, prayers, and fresh frosty air.

As I write this, I'm over 1,200 miles from my hometown. I've never spent Christmas away from my biological family, but I've gotten enough greetings from friends and family around the country to warm my heart on this cold North Dakota day. Thank you, everyone.

I didn't unwrap any presents today, but I did receive the gift of my sense of taste returning! Tasting and smelling everything I've eaten today for the first time in a week has been a pretty big treat!

Other than that, today was a day of healing, rest, and solitude. I'll be honest, at times I felt really lonely. But that loneliness has transformed to joyful affirmation as I've realized the power in an unexpected opportunity for quiet self-reflection.

I spent some time in the casino lobby beading this afternoon. A man reading in the chair beside me got up at one point and beckoned me over to the window to admire the snow. He was from San Diego and had never seen a whiteout. He asked me what I was doing there, and I explained about coming to help out with medical but ending up sick most of the time myself. "I came here with a desire to learn about different healing modalities, but I didn't know I'd have to use them all on myself," I said. "But that's the best way!" He exclaimed. "You're a healer...and you've got to heal the healer, too. Keep taking good care of yourself, " he told me. A good reminder.

This place has gifted me with so much. I came here to give and to serve, but I feel that I've received so much more than I've given so far. Of course, it doesn't end here. Standing Rock is everywhere. Prayer reaches everywhere. There are plenty of places in need of the kind of gifts I've received here over the past two weeks, and I am so eager to share what I've gained in my short time here.

Here. As they say, they call it "the present" because it's a gift. I hope that your weekend, dear friends, however you have chosen to spend or celebrate it, has been warm, peaceful, and joyful. Thanks to those of you who read this whole thing. That's commitment! I appreciate you and your interest every bit as much as you've appreciated my words. I hope they've uplifted you in some way.

Wherever you are, know that I am sending you love from the great white plains of North Dakota, and peace and respect and compassion too! Aho mitakuye oyasin!

26 December 2016

With the winter weather advisory behind us, I returned to camp today. My car windows were coated in ice and snow from the “blizzard,” but I had seen plows on the road that morning so I figured it was probably driveable. I was waiting in the lobby, warming my fingers while the car engine warmed up in the parking lot, when a young man approached me and asked if I was returning to camp. I told him I was, and he asked if I might have room for him and a friend to ride along. I told him I surely did.

I went out the check on the car. By the time I returned, his friend had joined him in the lobby. The young man who first approached me appeared Native American, although I can’t recall now where he said he was from. His name was Josh. His friend Ian was from Canada. We got acquainted, chatting in the lobby, until the ice on my car was loose enough to chip away. The three of us piled in the Kia and headed North on 1806.

Most of the road was easily passable, granted I took my time and stayed alert. There were abandoned vehicles here and there beside the road. Some were halfway buried in snow already; others were more recently abandoned and might still be recovered easily if the owners returned soon. Still others were busted and wrecked; it would be anyone’s guess when they would be moved.

The wind was intense, blowing clouds of white across the road so that it was difficult to see more than 6 or 8 feet ahead of the vehicle. In some places, the wind had blown snow into the road, so that, although it had been plowed, it was quickly covered over again, several inches deep. Once we hit the last mile or so of highway before the turn into camp, suddenly the road was covered all the way across in 2 or 3 inches of snow. Taken by surprise, I started to lose control of the car but recovered it quickly. The first thoughts that came to mind was that the street had never even been plowed here—“Nice, they’re trying to hinder traffic into and out of camp!” I thought cynically—but as we slid slowly forward, I realized the road had been plowed here. This was just one big snow drift.

At last, the camps were in sight. I scoped out the driveway to Rosebud, which was caked in snow all carved into ruts. I picked what I thought would be the best way to approach and swung the wheel to the right—and got stuck. My passengers were quick to jump out of the car to push. They tried to move the car a few times, but it became clear we’d need a shovel to dig out the wheels. Another couple approached us; they seemed to be planning to head southbound on the highway, into the mess we’d just come out of, in a sedan of all things! They had a shovel though, and came to our aid. Josh and Ian came up with a couple of shovels too, and they all worked around the wheels while I briefed the couple on the road conditions ahead. I regretted not putting the tire chains on the Kia before leaving the casino, but I couldn’t do anything about that now.

Digging out the wheels worked, but most of Rosebud was still under several inches of loose snow. The regular driveway was out of service, and the alternate route seemed to be a road to nowhere as well. I got stuck one more time just beyond the entrance to camp, and my companions dug me out yet again. I ended up backing the Kia into a spot near the entrance to avoid any further hang-ups with the snow.

Josh and Ian kept right on shoveling for a while, trying to recover some of the driveway leading into to Rosebud. I gave Ian my mittens to wear while he worked, since he didn’t have any. He resisted the offer at first, but I assured him I was going straight to the medical tent, where it was warm and I wouldn’t need them.

I marched through the fresh snow, wondering if I should even stay at camp under those conditions. Not being able to get in or out easily made me nervous for some reason. Besides, I had come to relieve Rachel from her duties at Rosebud, so she could take a break for a few days and go pick up her boyfriend in Minnesota, but she wouldn’t be going anywhere in this weather. I’m not sure why I wanted to leave again so soon that day, but maybe I was just generally exhausted from my time there and was looking forward to going home soon.

As I turned down the side road leading to Rosebud medical, I encountered a pickup truck flanked by 6 or 7 water protectors wielding shovels, literally digging out the road as the truck went. I could tell they were working hard. I admired their dedication. I was already feeling a little drained myself, just from walking through the snow. I didn’t envy them for their task.

Rachel and Jacque were in the medical yurt when I arrived. They asked how I was doing. I told them I was slowly starting to feel better, except that I’d woken up with an ear infection the day before. Jacque shook her head in disbelief and sympathy and assured me she’d come up with something to treat my ear.

Rachel announced she’d be leaving the next day, as there were ice storms presently afflicting Minnesota. She intended to spend the afternoon doing another round of wellness visits. My presence there would be useful after all, I realized. I made up my mind to stay. After talking for them for a while, I headed back to my car to get a few things and put the chains on my wheels.

The pickup truck that I passed on my way in was almost to the main road when I returned. The diggers were still digging furiously ahead of it. I was impressed that they had cleared that whole way by hand. Ian and Josh were still digging by the main entrance, extending the area of passable road from that direction.

I set to work putting the tire chains on the Kia, trying to remember just how it was done in the YouTube video I’d watched a week or two earlier. I had actually been looking forward to doing this. I had to keep jumping in the car to warm my fingers, which became like icicles after only a few minutes outside, but I managed to get the chains installed and secured. They looked pretty damn good! I have to admit, I kind of felt like a badass for putting them on all by myself.

I spent that night at the medic yurt. I had to keep getting up to feed the wood stove, which had recently been installed to replace the propane heaters. I came to understand the inconvenience of a wood stove, when you’re trying to sleep through the night yet stay warm in an unforgiving winter wonderland. It was a long, cold night.

27 December 2016

I was a little groggy and grumpy this morning, which I blame on still being sick and having such interrupted sleep last night. Rachel packed up her things and left sometime between noon and two. We have a young physician helping out at Rosebud while Rachel is gone. His name is Steven, but the other ladies in the medical tent affectionately call him Snowflake. He’s a family medicine resident from California and has very little of the arrogance I’ve noted in a lot of other medical doctors, which is refreshing.

At some point during the day, I finally made a point to walk down to the new medical yurt I’ve been hearing so much about. It’s about three times as big as the current one. Herbal and allopathic medicine will still be practiced together in the new space. The yurt has windows and a sky light, so its inhabitants can enjoy natural light instead of the LED camping lights that illuminate the yurt they’re in now.

While I was there, I overheard Snowflake and the builders were discussing the logistics of setting up a trauma bay near the entrance, right down to the gritty details of needing waist-high tables in case there was a need to do CPR. The rest of the clinic will be curtained off, creating a more low-key space for regular consultations in the back. There will also be bunk beds for the medics to sleep in, and plenty of shelving for supplies. The building crews at Standing Rock are just phenomenal. They talk to whomever will be using the space they’re setting up to find out what is needed, sketch out their plans, and set right to building. It’s motivating just to watch them work.

After my visit to the new yurt, I decided to head back to the other medical yurt. I had a few things to check off my list before departing the next day, like emptying the compost toilet, dropping off the rest of my donations, and visiting the sacred fire, but first I needed to be able to feel my fingers and toes again. My time spent at camp was a constant rotation of going outside for a little while, then seeking warmth and shelter to rewarm my fingers and toes, which quickly became painfully cold and stiff in that weather. Jacque had given me a warming salve at one point, which contained cayenne and ginger extracts. If I rubbed this on my feet to promote blood flow, and kept switching out the foot warmers in my boots, I managed to get by with my feet only being numb a couple hours out of the day.

Such was my occupation as I was sitting in the medical yurt with Jacque, Snowflake, and Ann that day, listening to the radio. Gradually, the chatter became more frantic. Someone started calling for security to report to Turtle Island.

“Some people are down here arguing with the police,” a voice on the radio said.

In the background, there was commotion and shouting. It sounded like more than just “some people.” This went on for some time without any of us being able to figure out what was actually going on, but he kept the radios turned up, listening to them intently for any clue as to what was going on. Outside we heard a helicopter occasionally circle over the camp, as it had been doing for the past couple of hours, which was unusual. It must have been DAPL keeping an eye on us, and especially on Turtle Island.

It was beginning to get dark, and I remembered the few things I had left to do. I figured I’d take care of the compost toilet before the daylight faded any further, so I got up and left the yurt, where everyone else remained to await further news from the radio. Just as I turned right onto the main road toward the camp latrine, Jacque came running up behind me with the jump bag, which we kept stocked with medical supplies, on her back and darted left down the road. Orka and Camille happened to be passing by as well.

“Jacque, is everything okay?” I called out.

“Where are you going?” shouted Orka.

Jacque slowed to a trot and yelled over her shoulder that she was headed to Turtle Island. Orka and Camille took off behind her. I would have gone then too, except I was lugging around a bag of human waste I didn’t want to just leave by the side of the road. So I continued on to the latrines, wondering what could be going on at Turtle Island—wondering, where was Turtle Island anyway?

Once inside the comfortably warm latrine house, I noticed an electronic screeching sound. The lights in there were dim, and although I looked around I couldn’t quite figure out where it was coming from. I wondered if it was the radio, somehow scrambled by DAPL so we couldn’t communicate? I definitely needed to head to Turtle Island and see what was going on.

I hurried across camp to the security gate, near where my car was parked. I thought about going back to the medical tent to tell Snowflake and Ann where I was going, but decided that would take too much time. I asked security where Turtle Island was, and they pointed it out to me.

“See that hill off in the distance, with a few trees on top? That’s it,” said the young woman at the gate.

I also asked them if they had heard anything over the radio about what was going on. They exchanged questioning looks with one another. They had no idea. They picked up their radio to see if they could call someone and figure it out, but they weren’t getting the same chatter I’d heard earlier at the medical tent. I was in too much of a hurry to wait for a response, especially if the radios were being scrambled anyway. I thanked them for the directions and hopped into my car. The guy at the gate stalled me.

��Be careful, sister,” he emphasized. “It can get dangerous up there. Don’t go alone!”

I assured him I was going to join the other medics and wouldn’t be alone. I held my hand up in a peace sign as I pulled out of Rosebud, thankful I’d put my tire chains on.

I turned into Oceti, telling the gate guard simply that I was there to help out with medical. I tried to read him to see if he was aware of any commotion going on in camp, but he didn’t seem alarmed in the least and waved me right through. I kept my eyes on the hill with the trees and tried to get as close as I could by driving, but the pathways through camp were different now that there was so much snow, and it was hard to tell where the roads went when everything was white on white.

I parked the Kia somewhere that seemed relatively out of the way and took off on foot for Turtle Island. Handfuls of others were making their way in that direction too, some hurried and some walking more casually toward the river. I tried to take the most direct route, which turned out to be a rather snowy one. Here and there I found myself up to my knees in snow. But like I said, it was hard to pick out the walking paths, so I continued to march straight toward the island, feeling my legs tire out already. I stopped every now and then to take in the scene, and to catch my breath. The cold air was harsh on my lungs but I needed the oxygen.

A man was walking toward me from the opposite direction, heading back toward the main camp, and I asked him if he knew what was going on. He told me a few water protectors had been arrested, and now people were kind of just hanging around making a fuss about it. He shrugged, indicating he wasn’t a fan of their present tactics, then continued to make his way back toward Oceti.

Off in the distance, I could see Turtle Island, a steep mound in the middle of the river, maybe a third of a mile in length, and I couldn’t tell how wide because of the steep face that blocked the view of the rest of it. There was razor wire around the top of the island, where several official-looking SUVs were parked. People on the camp side were walking across the frozen river and climbing the steep hillside to perch themselves on the narrow ledge that remained outside the razor wire barricade. Someone was lugging a flag up there. I didn’t see anyone standing inside the razor wire. If there had been cops, they appeared to have retreated to their vehicles by now.

Once I was in sight of the river’s edge, I was able to recognize Jacque by her beige backpack and long skirt. I had a pounding headache from the exertion of running there. I might have overdone it a bit, I thought remorsefully, but at least I was warm.

“Hey,” I said to Jacque, once I reached her. She turned away from the hill and greeted me. “What’s going on?” I asked. “I heard some people got arrested.”

Jacque told me that earlier that day some people had climbed to the top of Turtle Island and cut the razor wire barricade.

“They got the canoes back!” she said.

She explained why she had run down there—there had been a request for medics at Turtle Island, and then the radio started to get scrambled so she was worried about what might be happening. But so far, there hadn’t been any violence.

Apparently, earlier on in the resistance, the water protectors had occupied Turtle Island. One day DAPL moved in, pushed everyone out, and set up their razor wire barricades. When they took control of the island, there were several canoes there, at least some of which they smashed in a show of dominance and dis-rez-spect toward to water protectors. The water protectors had tried before to reclaim those canoes (sometime back around Thanksgiving, I think) but were unsuccessful. I thought of the young man whom I’d talked to at Oceti medical during the one night shift I’d worked there. He was among several protectors who ended up in the river that day, he explained to me, as he sat before me with lungs full of pneumonia.

But this time, the effort was a success. They had reclaimed the canoes, and although some had been arrested, that was such a minor consequence compared to the backlash other actions had provoked.

I understood, then, why people were climbing the hill, singing and cheering and waving their flags. This was a victory celebration. There didn’t seem to be much going on besides that and the helicopter circling around and around, until we noticed a few vehicles coming down the road toward the island. The one in front was massive. It looked like a tank to me, but someone else suggested it could also be a water cannon. Behind it were two more large vehicles, possibly armored cars or at least military Hummers. They turned off the road across the river from where we were gathered and sat there facing us for the next 20 or 30 minutes.

Orka and Camille approached Jacque and me to say they were going to walk down the river bank to get a better view of what was on top of Turtle Island. Meanwhile, Jacque and I watched the crowd from a distance. One man was pacing the width of the crowd near the base of the island, holding a bundle of burning sage. Others sang and held their hands up to the sky in prayer and thanks. Some young spunky white man dashed down to the frozen river shouting and hooting. We watched him strip off his warm clothes and replace them with only a fur jacket. He dashed up the hill with a costume shield strapped to one forearm and continued to holler as he did obscene dances and waved his genitalia at the SUVs on the other side of the razor wire. These are the types of goofballs that discredit the who,le resistance, I thought. I remembered the disparaging remarks of the man I’d passed earlier on my way down to the river.

“I hope he doesn’t become our next hypothermia patient,” I said to Jacque.

“I’m hoping no one falls off the hill and breaks something!” she replied, cringing as people gripped tree limbs and rocks to make their way to the top of Turtle Island. Others slid downhill on their butts, like it was a sled ride but with no sled. We stood and watched mostly in silence until Orka and Camille returned.

“You can’t see them from here, but there are about 30 SUVs and armored vehicles on top of the hill,” Orka told us, “plus a bunch of officers on snowmobiles. If anything goes down, they’ll all be here in about 30 seconds.” Camille stood quietly by Orka’s side, as he usually did. If he spoke, it was mostly in French.

I looked toward to hillside, trying to imagine the scene Orka described. Some people had broken off from the main group and were walking the perimeter of razor wire. I said a silent prayer that no one would instigate anything further. It sounded like we were outnumbered. As far as I could tell, getting the canoes back was victory enough for one day. I hoped they’d finish celebrating soon and come back down the hill. It was getting dark, I was getting cold, and my head was pounding.

Eventually people did start to come down the hill. Someone had made a small fire to keep us warm. A few guys were calling for people to regroup and head to the bridge where highway 1806 was barricaded.

“This is how we waste their money,” one of the organizers explained to Jacque and me with a mischievous grin. “We keep them hopping around, back and forth. Give them something to do.”

Others threw around the wild suggestion of setting up camp and hanging out there for the night. From a medic standpoint, I wasn’t a fan of having people out here overnight, in the cold, facing off with the DAPL forces in the dark. In general, it seemed like the crowd was dissipating. Jacque and I decided to go. Orka and Camille wanted to stay.

While I waited for Jacque, I overheard a voice saying, “Did you see the buffalo over there?” That got my attention. I turned around and saw a man was pointing off in the distance toward another hilltop. It was too far away to say for certain that these were buffaloes, but I definitely saw the large dark figures gathered there, some in clusters, some more spread apart. They had been watching us all along.

As we walked back through the snow toward my car, I wondered out loud about the principles of the action we’d just witnessed. I was happy the canoes had been reclaimed, but I had also noticed that some people just seemed to want to be part of the excitement. I thought of the man in the fur coat. I remembered listening to the security guards who sat in the medical tent in Oceti, bored and talking about going to the front lines to “fuck with DAPL.” I’d heard comments from others during my time there, suggesting that they were craving an action, more for the excitement than for any particular goal, it seemed…I’m more in favor of unified, goal-oriented action, I decided. Without any particular objective or end point, it was easy to see how a situation could easily turn violent. If protestors/protectors just show up to the front lines and engage in a standoff with the opposing forces, it’s fairly likely that at some point, someone will do something stupid or careless and provoke a strike. That kind of thing, I told Jacque, put people in unnecessary danger. She acknowledged my words in a way that wasn’t necessarily agreement or disagreement, just an understanding of my perspective. And even as I spoke, I felt there was probably a hundred ways to refute what I’d just said. The philosophy behind these kinds of movements was, and still is, pretty new to me. I was just processing what I’d seen.

We found my car and climbed inside. It seemed kind of bizarre, to be living in this camp, in the snow and ice and wood smoke, and yet have this luxury car to get in and turn on and blast the heat. Like a relic from another world.

I offered to drive Jacque to the bridge, where we suspected we might find more protectors gathered. But when we got there, it was virtually deserted, except for one or two trucks parked there. So we rode back to Rosebud medical to update them with the news from Turtle Island.

Snowflake and Ann had not been idle while we were gone. They had been warming hot water bottles to treat hypothermia and defrosting bottles of milk of magnesia by the fire in case people were sprayed with mace. The cot nearest to the door was layered with warm blankets, and two chairs were set next to a table covered with an assortment of bandages. I was thankful that none of these things were needed after all. It was a good drill.

The radios were working again, and we heard that the crowd at Turtle Island was dissipating. There was eventually a brief gathering at the bridge, but that too died down pretty quickly. I ate some dinner and waited around until I was fairly certain that there would be no major action that night. I was starting to feel feverish again, and the headache I’d conjured while running through the snow wouldn’t go away. I didn’t want to skip out on the other medics if I was needed, but I was praying that things would remain peaceful. And they did.

#nodapl #mniwiconi #waterislife #standingrock

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