It’s a typical day at Eagle Peak Middle School. These days, one has to look closely to see any remnants of the Mendocino Complex Fires, but there are still a few reminders: an inspirational sign in the office, and less subtly, the nearby hills that still bear the burn scars of the fire that indelibly marked the landscape and the psyches of the children and adults living in Redwood Valley.

For five 10-year-old boys, members of a fire trauma group facilitated by Keenan Smith of the Mendocino County Youth Project, the immediacy of their fear and loss is lessening, and today, as their trauma has become more manageable, the boys have elected to use their experience to help youth in Butte County who are in the early stages of coping with grief and trauma.

Iliana Neito-Mora, a counselor at Eagle Peak, identified five students who would benefit from counseling. Support from the Ray Morgan Company donated funds, enabling the boys to have weekly counseling sessions with Smith for the past year during their physical education period.

“Around the one-year anniversary of our fires, I met with the boys and we discussed whether we needed to continue meeting. It was an intense day, because the sky was darkened from the Butte County Fires. Kids were lining up at the counselor’s office,” Smith explains.

“The boys decided to put together a survivor’s guide for kids who were being affected by the fires. Because of their age, they are pretty technologically inclined. Our campus supervisor suggested I contact Matt LaFever’s Journalism class at Ukiah High. With their help, we created a video which we’re going to post on social media,” Smith continues.

The video, created by Kyle Pham, features the five Eagle Peak students. It is being posted on the Ukiah Daily Journal’s Facebook page and other media outlets. The idea, says Smith, was conceived by his students – a first-person accounting of what happened to them, with the hope that the wisdom and lessons they have garnered over the past 15 months will provide inspiration and support for their brothers and sisters in Butte County, who they are bonded with: literally, through their shared trials by fire.

Smith provided packets for the students to work on with their families that would help them with scripting for the video – addressing the telling of their story and how they were healing from trauma – one month out, then six months and finally a year after the fires.

“Initially, I had a hard time explaining to our counselors that I didn’t come up with this idea. It was one of the highlights of my time with the boys,” Smith smiles.

The trauma group consists of students referred to the Youth Project through Eagle Peak’s counseling department. Smith notes that the group is entirely voluntary and parents were kept in the loop. “The students were able to decide whether they wanted to join or not. These five boys love participating.”

Prior to beginning the complex work with the boys, Smith received training in trauma-informed care – a specific program that focuses on understanding, recognizing, and responding to the effects of all types of trauma. Trauma-informed care emphasizes the provision of physical, psychological and emotional safety, with the goal of helping survivors rebuild a sense of control and empowerment. Smith notes that one of the most significant takeaways of the training was to meet the boys with “an open head and heart.”

“Each of the boys were affected by the fires in different ways. When we met, I worked on listening. I did very little talking. The first time they shared their stories was incredible. Seeing a fifth-grader open themselves up to someone they’d just met was indescribable. They were more ‘there’ for each other than most people my age.”

The original goal of the group was to prevent another crisis around the one-year mark. “We would restate the cycle of grief while keeping things positive.” Smith felt he had some shared history with the boys. “When I was 14, I was in a house fire. But my experience paled in comparison to what these boys had been through.”

Initially, the boys demonstrated a degree of reluctance to talk.

“I’d meet with the boys and one might say, ‘Ugh, this again? I’ve already talked about this.’ But once they began to speak, they found that it felt good to share their stories again.” It didn’t take long for the boys to open up. “One might start talking, and another would decide that the best way to tell their story was to write it down. Each student told their story in their own way, at their own level of comfort.”

Yoosha Carson was awakened by his grandma the night of the fire. “The previous night had been super windy. We had actually packed bags night before. I remember my brother looked outside. We saw the blazing red hill. I grabbed my bags and got in the car. The next day, I got a call from my mom. She told me the news that my house burnt down. All I could say was, ‘Wow.’”

Yoosha’s home was one of several residences on the Redwood Valley Rancheria. Were it not for the stalwart efforts of fewer than 10 men, who refused to leave the Rancheria, it is possible that all the homes on the Rancheria would have been destroyed, and the fire could have spread directly into Redwood Valley.

Ezekiel Sype’s family also had a premonition about their children’s safety. “The night of fire, my mom sent us downstairs. It was so windy, she was afraid a tree would fall on our bedrooms. Then, in the middle of the night, my stepdad saw flames and he woke us up. When I looked out the window, there were huge flames swooping in on the glass. I touched the glass and it was super-hot. We went in the garage, got in the truck and drove out of there. At one point, the smoke was so thick, we used the edge of the road and the wall of the cliff to see where we were going. That morning, we watched the news and saw how terrifying it was for other people,” he explains.

J.J. Carson’s home survived the fire, but it’s still difficult for him to talk about what happened. “The night of the fire, I woke up at 3 a.m. I packed my clothes and all the stuff I needed, like my toothbrush. We came to the Eagle Peak parking lot, but then we went back to my house because grandparents didn’t pack anything. When we got back to Eagle Peak, a county fire person said we had to move because the fire might come to the school. We went into Ukiah and the safe zone was the high school. I went to my mom’s house, slept there, and my other relatives slept at my great-grandma’s. A week later, we were able to come back home.”

“We were having a barbecue at my house that night,” explains Andy Espinosa. “It was super windy. We fell asleep and my mom was watching movies. She took a shower and thought she smelled smoke that wasn’t from the barbecue. I saw light through my window. I went to the kitchen, looked out the window and the whole hill was on fire. My dad said, ‘There’s a fire coming!’ The fire was super close. I got all my stuff – my backpack, clothes and my tablet, and waited in the car. As we were driving, we were honking the horn to wake up the neighbors, I was panicking, but not panicking. I looked behind my dad’s car and saw a huge wall of fire.”

Andy’s house was the only home he’d ever lived in. “I grew up at my house since I was a baby. I remember my cousins would come over and we’d play hide-and-seek at night. The next day we moved to my aunt’s house for a few months. We live in Ukiah now.”

Caelan Brown has been evacuated twice in his short life. “I guess you could say I have some experience in fires,” he smiles.

“Me and my dad were cooking shish-kabobs. I remember falling asleep with a full belly. Then, at three in the morning, I was dreaming of cupcakes. My dad said, ‘Dude, get your butt up – we gotta move now!’ I packed my stuffed animals, my PS4 and my blankets. We moved to a hotel and a few weeks later, we were living in Upper Lake. We lived there for a solid four months, and then there was another fire in Lake County. It was rising up on our hill, sneaking up on our house. I grabbed my stuffed animals and clothes again. There were fire tornadoes 100 feet away. Hell was rising and it was rising fast. I was crying like an emotional baby. My four cats all got really bad PTSD, but they all survived. The hardest thing? I have PTSD for my whole life.”

Caelan is grateful for the support he has received. “I joined this group and I’ve gotten to be with the people I love the most.”

With the exception of one of the kids, the boys knew each other prior to being in the group. Now, says Smith, they’re inseparable.

When it came time for the boys to be recorded, they were surprisingly nervous.

“I’d peek over their shoulders as they were writing their scripts. I saw a lot of references which inferred that once the family was calm, they were calm. They understood that things can be replaced,” says Smith. “They have sought the comfort of each other. The video project started as such a small thing. Now it’s exploded. I’m so happy they have a good platform to tell their story.”

One of the most gratifying aspects of the project is fostering peer-to-peer relations. “They want to help other kids. For 10-year-olds to want to help another community – that’s a big thing. Our plan is to host the video through several fire groups on Facebook. Maybe kids in Butte County will identify with these guys and see there is future after a crisis.”

“I’m just trying to forget about everything that happened that night,” J.J. notes.

“When the one-year anniversary of the fires happened, the boys almost forgot about it because they are doing so well. Their attitude was, ‘Let’s rush through the trauma session so we can talk about how much fun we’re having playing Fortnite,” Smith smiles.

“When I got in this group, I never thought we’d get this far. I thought it was just to help us, but doing a video for other kids? This is great. We made it,” Ezekiel concludes.