Paul D. Miller (aka DJ Spooky), who is also from New York, writes about going to Antarctica as “urban deprogramming.” He went down there about a year ago, chartered a boat and went from Argentina through the Drake Passage, recording sounds for his multi-media performance work, “Terra Nova: The Antarctic Suite”. By “urban deprogramming,” he meant how thoroughly, completely different it was from New York and anything he’d seen before. How shocking was the difference for you between where you were and what you’re used to in New York?
I think Mr. Miller has coined a very, very incredible phrase because, excluding the camp sounds, which were minimal, I was struck by the loudness of the silence. Silence. How refreshing. Silence. I just marveled at having the good fortune to have experienced it.
Not a bird, blade of grass. Just silence. And the beauty of the ice in different forms.
What would you say was the most surprising thing about the trip?
The overwhelming joy of standing at the North Pole. I cannot describe it; to call it an adrenaline rush is the understatement of the year. If you compressed every positive feeling, every thrill, every nuance, every joy, and then multiplied it and multiplied it—that is the feeling.
That sounds pretty amazing.
Yeah, it’s like pinching yourself and saying: I really did it. Because I’m human. That feeling is one that I will always have. It can never be duplicated, it can never be taken from me, it can never be stolen. It is part of my DNA.
What is the least favorite question people ask you?
It’s a combination of sustained ignorance and geographical ignorance, which I find very unacceptable.. People who perhaps did not have the advantages of education—that’s one thing. But the bizarre questions don’t come from them, they come from the “intelligentsia.” I think the educational system and academics have to take a long look at why Americans are so ignorant in geography. The kinds of questions I get: What hotel did you stay in at the North Pole? What path did you take? Did you have a good time there on your vacation? Like it’s a resort. [laughter]
I just came back from visiting my 70-year-old aunt in California, who has had similar experiences. She just spent two years and four months in Thailand, and when she returned to Oakland, people would ask: How was your trip? Like it was a vacation.
Yes, yes, yes. So she understands, yes. However, the man in the street, in the black world, has displayed tremendous pride, as a result of my feat.
That’s good.
My aunt actually marked her fifth-year anniversary post-cancer treatment by training to run a marathon. Then she went to Churchill to see the polar bears. And then she joined the Peace Corps and went to Thailand. So she sort of became an adventurer later in life, and she has certainly been a very strong inspiration for me. If you don’t want to answer this, that’s fine, but I was wondering, how much of this trip was something you decided to do after completing cancer treatments?
Well, once I became aware that I had cancer, I did not undergo some metamorphosis, as some people do, in all due respect to them. The skies didn’t open, a ray didn’t come through, I didn’t hear the great organ in the background—and now you suddenly see.
This didn’t happen because I have tried to take the best path forward in my life, and leave the worst behind. Life is not a dress rehearsal and I do not believe in reincarnation. So I have tried to focus on making life meaningful within the framework of my financial and my physical ability. In short, I have tried to live one hell of an exciting and fun life.
Since death is inevitable, that is not the time to say “I woulda, I shoulda, I coulda.” I don’t want to die any more than anyone else, but if I have to go today, tomorrow . . . when the undertaker looks at my face, he’s going to say “damn, look at that smile.” [laughing]
What was your background before all of this? I gather you were a nurse?
Yes. I graduated from Bellevue School of Nursing and then obtained my undergraduate and masters of professional studies at the New School University. Then I went on to study political science and international affairs. I don’t have my doctorate, but I did do some post-graduate studies.
You might say to yourself: what is the relationship between political science, nursing, and international affairs? Well, I believe that as we strive to be educated, we should take ideas that have been taught to us, or superimposed on us, and again—question them. Take New York City for example. Why is it that some people live and some people die in a city that has a fairly good medical system? I’ve always been interested in how the world impacts me and other people . . . and how the behavior, the philosophy, the actions of the United States impacts the world and other people.
Since you mentioned political science and international relations, what do you think of this business where Russia planted a flag onto the North Pole and is making a claim that it’s theirs?
Well, I’m frankly a bit amused. It should be interesting to see how it plays out.
People think that, as the ice melts and the oil becomes more accessible, there’s going to be a real land rush for drilling in the arctic regions. The northern countries are meeting to discuss it, but there is no political framework like there is for Antarctica. Do you foresee a lot of strife?
Well, perhaps it’s a more resourceful way, a more updated way, than American colonialism. And ways that we have used to control oil. As I said earlier, if you clean your own window first, your neighbor’s looks a lot cleaner.
Well, the U.S. is of course also involved with this, mostly with the drilling in Alaska, and taking of land that had been given to various native and tribal peoples in Alaska—who have been trying to take it back for drilling. Did you encounter any native northern people?
No. When I was in northern Manitoba, I did. And I met people indigenous to Svalbard. But once I reached base camp and beyond, no.
Just curious. Because that was part of the whole Matt Henson story: how he was the one who learned the language and learned the sled dogging, and supposedly was able to work with the native people.
I understand the indigenous people called him “The Kind One.”
So the plan to go to the South Pole—this is for next winter?
For December of 2009.
Are you physically training for this trip?
Not as much as I’d like. My first priorities right now are to arrange speaking engagements and fundraise. I’m looking for donations and help of any kind.
Are you mostly working with universities or businesses?
I’m approaching this on more than one front: the educational arena, businesses, and non-profit organizations.
So what haven’t I asked?
There is one thing I would like to talk about. Often when people know some measure of success, they become so full of themselves that they forget the bridge that brought them across. But there is no way I could have accomplished any of this without the underpinnings, the fiber, the character that was built into me by my mother. So when I reached the North Pole, after jumping up and down and just enjoying the thrill of the moment, I dedicated the trip to the memory of her.
My father died when I was about two years old. My mother was the one who demanded education in our home. There was no such thing as a GED in pregnancy [laughing]. I fought as a child, but it was made very clear to me: “If you fight after school, Barbara, and you’re beaten, do not come home crying. Someone, somewhere is tougher than you, and you may get your you-know-what kicked, and don’t expect me to breast feed you when this was your decision.”
Now, by today’s standards, that might sound terrible, but it wasn’t really. It prepared me for the real world. And it made me a stronger person.
She sounds great.
Oh, what a woman. What a woman. We grew up during the Depression, but there were always books under our Christmas tree.
Additional information about Barbara Hillary
