Swine Flu hits home in Haines/Juneau Alaska
The family from places near and far of Cynthia Phillips, age 19, Juneau resident, full-time student, mother of one-year old Cassandra Dawn gathered in Haines, Alaska, today to put her to rest in Jones Point Cemetery.
She died in her home of respiratory failure. Autopsy tests confirm the H1N1 virus.
Of Tlingit heritage, Cynthia may have had little immunity to this deadly virus. It has struck hard in isolated, rural northern communities. Though Juneau is not that isolated, Cynthia grew up in Haines, which is more rural. A tragic circumstance where one hails from a protected community, moves into a community where more bugs gather, and becomes suddenly stricken and swiftly killed.
Get your shots. Children and young adults are vulnerable. The life you protect may be your own, that of someone in your family, or in your community.
A little more about Cynthia:
Cynthia Marie Phillips' smile lit up the space around her. She was devoted to her daughter. Others who knew her better than I told us "When she spoke, she made us think."
When I was first becoming acquainted with Haines, my home for the past fourteen years, even before I moved here, I came up to photograph the hooligan harvest on the Chilkoot River. That is where I met Cynthia, about six, and her sister Janine, about four, at the river, with their relatives, gathering in the hooligan (eulachon)--small oily, healthy, smelt-like fish that return to the rivers in the north in the spring--as Tlingit people of this area have done for generations, for centuries. They represented to me the beautiful, rich side of life in the north, in Haines, at the river. People of the river.
Over the years, I ran into the girls from time to time. They always had for me—the outsider moved into this place--a warm, friendly smile.
As we walked away from the Cemetery, after saying our good-byes, over a dozen eagles swirled overhead. My friend Ellen looked at me. "They came in and swooped her up," she said. In some way, I believe this. It is the way of this place. The land reveals its own spirituality.
During the shared meal and words of support afterward at the ANB/ANS (Alaska Native Brotherhood, Alaska Native Sisterhood Hall), Cassandra Dawn, Cynthia’s one-year old daughter alternately laughed, danced, and cried throughout the room as she flitted from relative to relative, missing the one she does not yet understand she has lost so fully. Her sister Janine, pregnant now with a child of her own, and everyone who loves them all will help Cassandra remember the special person that was her mother Cynthia as she grows older and understands more. People will hold each other up. For a significant moment, Cassandra smiles and coos, lighting up the space.