THE HOMECOMING

Image Gallery Ben and I in front of Bob Quinn Lake.

SHUSWAP DIARY

Returning to the Ningunsaw Valley

by Deanna Kawatski

When Deanna Kawatski first wrote us in 1991 of her family's homesteading adventure in the Ningunsaw Valley of Northern British Columbia, the power and beauty of her narrative was apparent not only to us, but happily to the thousands of readers who asked for more and who made her MOTHER'S most popular contributor in years. At once naive and world-weary, Deanna’s story was filled with simple strengths. Paradise found was a hand-hewn log home built overlooking the Ningunsaw River and days filled with the endless chores of growing food, cutting fuel, raising two children on $2,000 a year...and reveling in a life of utter independence. But as it turned out, the adventure was just beginning. Her home was lost two years ago in the wake of her husband's departure, and in a moment her family was forced to move back to the civilization it had struggled for so long to be free of. Deanna's stories continued from her new suburban home, but the note of sadness and loss in them was unmistakable. With this, the concluding chapter of her most recent journey, Deanna finally returns to the home she left long ago, and begins the struggle to build again.

For nearly three years I was unable to return. Circumstances, cost, distance, and a deep sense of loss all conspired to keep me from visiting my old home in the Ningunsaw Valley. And I was scared. What would I have to face by going back there?
Fresh back from a library reading tour in the Kootenays, I was jolted by the phone call. The new owners revealed they were "out of here." Their offer was to sell the homestead back to me. I said, "I'm sure you must recognize how bizarre it is to be asked to buy my own place." "Yes, unfortunately there's a price tag attached to everything these days," came the terse reply. When Jay and 1 had been together, money never was the focus of our efforts and we lived on next to nothing. What an irony that now it should all boil down to dollars.

Scheduled to give workshops at a Young Author's Conference in 13 days, the trip north was nothing less than squeezed. The four of us, including Natalia, Ben, and my new partner, Eric, along with Charlie, the elegant sheltie, all crammed into our Toyota Tercel. As soon as we swung north of Kamloops, we seemed to immediately leave warm weather behind and enter the territory where seasonal awakenings come more slowly. We cut across country from Little Fort to 100 Mile House and encountered snowflakes flinging themselves against the windshield. The thought of my tulips at our new home lingered in my mind, transplanted from the Ningunsaw— bright flames that might well flare and fade before I got back. And Natalia had blessed me with yet another high school-hatched virus. We both had raw throats and swollen glands. Ben, in permanent jester hat, sat patiently counting his Pogs with as much relish as any king in his counting house. Nat, with her nose ring, made a habit of stealing Ben's bubble gum and bossing him incessantly.