My BOOK Release
"I wrote my first book because I wanted to read it."
-Toni Morrison ~ highly regarded American novelist, authored many books.
'CULTURALLY SUBMERGED, Journey of a White 'Rez' Teacher'
For anyone out of Thunder Bay purchase through: Xlibris.com,[best price] or Amazon. It is a soft cover 'book' (164 pgs. 6 x9"). or an 'e-book
If preferred signed: ~You can buy it from the me the author, Vesa Peltonen, in Thunder Bay by e-mailing your request [see below]
ABOUT THE BOOK: 'Culturally Submerged' reflects the experiences of author Vesa Peltonen, an instructor learning the ways of another culture, in N.W. Ontario, with adventures, unexpected experiences and challenges, from humorous to some crazy and shocking situations. As an Instructor, Peltonen tries to understand the culture and then realizes he too has to adapt in his 'immersion' just as aboriginal people need to do when they make their journey into another place. Much has to do with inner strength, emotional intelligence, being a survivor' not a victim. These mental states and behavior are similar in all cultures. "Travel into another culture is not just about a place, but a new way of seeing things".- author, Henry Miller.
PRICE: $15.00 [for Orders + $7. mailing/handling] : Available NOW, paid by certified cheque, Paypal. [my e-mail is below].
CONTACT AUTHOR: In Thunder Bay to order, simply contact: Vesa Peltonen at:
E-mail: email@example.com or call: 1-807-768-4877
#301 -248 S. Algoma Street, P7B 3C2, Thunder Bay, ON, Canada
Excerpt: from ‘CULTURALLY SUBMERGED - Journey of a White Rez Teacher'
by Vesa Peltonen
I was heading out of a small town N.W. Ontario airport, jammed in this 16 seat plane. Natives on board mostly, a white guy with a suitcase, at the back with sunglasses. Maybe a government official to check the student count at the school. This government officer is usually the most welcome, since he looks at the registration enrollment and after a cut off date, the education authority gets paid per student on that enrollment sheet. The drop-outs are many after, but still the money will be paid according to the list he saw.
I look out the window and we are flying so low, I can see the hair on the back of the moose. Apparently, this low flying avoids the turbulence above. Suddenly the befuddled plane came to a grueling stop. Whoa! Huh! On gravel? Smoke and dust all around, Where the hell is the pavement airstrip? My heart skipped a beat. In the field was a single red jeep. To the left was the airport terminal, looking like an abandoned garage. A policeman was coming towards us, to look at our baggage site on the ground, and curious of the new faces. Some of the passengers, came with many boxes, bags and of course, lots of groceries from some big town with lower prices. They were the first ones checked randomly, looking rather awkward and nervous to me. The police, called NAPS, ‘Native Aboriginal Police’, took a quick look through one bag, and another, asking in Ojibway to an old man what was in his box, I figured. With his wannabe state trooper sunglasses, he left the old man, spying a native lady with a baby. She had plenty of grocery bags & diapers in her arm. The officer immediately tore it open and scattered the white diapers around, likely looking for booze. He found nothing. She seemed distraught and was left to chase diapers, wind blown, by the airplanes propellers,
which was already leaving for the next reserve. I picked up a few, she said nothing. I felt rather sad for her.
Inside the garage size terminal, an 'official' looking native lady came over to me and decided to check my small gym bag, which was bulging a bit, much stuff was randomly stuck in there. When she opened the zipper, I suddenly realized my Tim Horton's donut's were on top, a dozen, minus a few eaten on the plane. The bag burst and many of them fell by her feet. She looked quite embarrassed. She didn't say much, and when she saw my books, realizing my occupation, "Oh, you must be a new teacher", and walked off. I offered her one out of the bag, and said, "Bye," and walked to the room where they check thoroughly with some of the more suspicious bags.
I picked up the few donuts. With very little backage, she felt she had done her bit. She had more peoples' bags to look at. To the dismay of the local natives, I was never checked thoroughly at that moment and never check again. It would be the only occassion, where this white rez teacher was given guest first class service, in the 'donut ritual'. Many reserves are called a 'dry reserves'. No booze allowed. But it get's through. Let's thank the 'Hudson Bay Company' long ago for starting the trend of selling booze, and now the store won't serve it. The airport terminal doesn't have a lounge. Well for that matter no bathroom no vending machine. Life is kept simple or they just feel all that belongs in the white society, where the natives can look forward to a fun time sitting in a luxury of a white culture’s convenience store like airport. ...
~ Vesa Peltonen -author
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Vesa Peltonen BIO:
Vesa Peltonen lives in Thunder Bay, Canada, considers Toronto his 2nd home. As a semi-retired Visual Art/History professor, he is multi-faceted, as an artist, designer, musician/ composer to writer/author. He also has his AQ as Guidance Counselor specialist. Born in Finland, at age 5, his parents found jobs in Canada. He has been in art/design/media related fields in his rewarding career. He's always created his art, sold and has exhibited in many solo to group shows, globally. He's been well known for his commissioned art and producing limited edition prints, for International special events to fundraising for causes.
Peltonen has traveled abroad quite often, learning by being immersed in other cultures. He has worked as a Television art director, Ad agency illustrator and has his own company, 'Peltonen Art & Design' and has taught Art for many years. He's received numerous awards for painting, photography to design. He was asked to be an adviser for the Ontario Arts Council to advise on Arts Education grants funding.
Peltonen also instructed Art to English Literacy to First Nations students in N.W. Ontario communities. The periods off and on, teaching in various Native Communities influenced him to write this first book, titled, ‘Culturally Submerged, Journey of a White Rez Teacher’. This is Peltonen’s account of his teaching years living in and learning much about the Aboriginal life and culture in N.W. Ontario First Nation communities.
‘Tough Teaching Years Revisited’
‘Book title: ‘CULTURALLY SUBMERGED, Journey of a White Rez Teacher’.
Peltonen vividly portrays all of the general elements and events of what life “up north” is like. The experience of flying into isolated areas on a small plane packed with both people and supplies that would be 4 times as expensive once living on a reserve. The experience of landing on a gravel runway being met with NAP [Native Aboriginal Police] who attempted to find and stem the smuggling of alcohol and drugs. The experience of students struggling to find interest in courses taught in English and subjects that seemed to have little if any relevance to their daily lives. Again and again Peltonen comes back with experiencing boredom, both for youth in isolated communities and for himself as he struggles to understand how to do his job with any effectiveness and without judgment.
But there is judgement and plenty with Peltonen giving art lectures to his students, being at times involved in various government issues and us, his readers about the seemingly endless challenges one faces as a non-Native instructor. He writes with a broad stream of consciousness style, with paragraphs careening off in all directions from where they began. Peltonen closes his memoir with two important philosophical summations. The first is titled' Free on a Reserve'? The second is his personal position about the history of Residential Schools. Both of these sections are highly subjective and raise more questions than answers. He is most authentic, I believe, as in a passage near the end of the book where he describes his own experience of 'isolation anxiety', in reserve community to what his life is like once he leaves and comes “back home”.
“Some psychological effects I had experienced from being in this far northern reserve with longer periods away from home were ‘isolation anxiety’, which would wear off and some mild depression also. He had an attempted assault issue with a student with a knife, but knew how to culminate the dangerous issue with his quick thinking, partly stemming from his martial arts traaining, but moreso the phsycology that comes with it. The kid wound up in jail for that and spitting on the senior vice principal’s face plus some property damage. He had been stalked by two of that kids’ friends, but it was short lived, seeing it was a minor issue. The kids were more of a danger to themselves, often being high on gas sniffing.
Here Peltonen is hauntingly describing his re-entry to his own comfortable culture. He is raw and vulnerable. He could be talking about the hundreds of First Nations youth that were taken from their homes many decades before, forced into residential schools, with periods of isolation from everything they had left that was comfortable in their lives. It's been a sad story for many elder Natives, who still bear the inner hidden humiliation, whereas others carry on to learn and move ahead. The many younger generations of Indigenous people have moved into the city communities, however many do return, or just find it difficult, depending on how much exposure they have had in the 'Whiteman's culture'. So others carry on and accomplish in their education and find their talents with support in the city life, as more do achieve prominent positions.
~ Book reviewer - Thunder Bay, Chronicle Journal Newspaper