NESKANTAGA — Neskantaga First Nation Chief Gary Quisess is only six weeks into his first term, and is facing simultaneous crises in his community and in Thunder Bay. But he left home and travelled to Queen’s Park on Tuesday to call out what he describes as “genocide” buried in new provincial environmental legislation.
Ontario’s proposed Bill 5, the Protect Ontario By Unleashing Our Economy Act, would allow the province to designate “special economic zones” that would qualify to bypass some environmental regulations and speed up development. It is expected to be in force as early as September, and Premier Doug Ford intends to name the proposed Ring of Fire mineral development as the first such site.
Critics say the law would gut protections for endangered species, remove environmental protections, and trample Indigenous rights.
“The position is, Canada is not for sale, (well, the same goes for) our lands and resources – period,” Quisess told Ricochet Media.
“I hear the premier saying Canada is not for sale, I hear the candidates saying Canada is not for sale. That goes for our lands and resources.”
Neskantaga, located on the Attawapiskat River, 450 kilometres northeast of Thunder Bay, has been among the most vocal First Nations in opposing the proposed Ring of Fire development. As Quisess spoke to the Toronto media on Monday, two-thirds of his community members have already spent nearly a month in Thunder Bay hotels due to a health-related state of emergency whose implications remain uncertain.
Quisess minces no words about the connection between the poor infrastructure and looming mining encroachment.
“Nobody wants to say ‘genocide.’ This is a genocide, that’s how I look at it. You have water issues, now our health, and there’s a drug pandemic. The list goes on and on. I live in the third world. I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
Quisess says he has no intention of suing Ford over inadequate consultation for the Ring of Fire, as the premier dared First Nations to do during the spring election campaign.
“I’m just going to tell him to leave. If he doesn’t like it here, he can leave.”
Quisess' statements come as 176 of Neskantaga’s 300 on-reserve members mark their 29th day living in Thunder Bay hotels. More than half the community has been forced into exile after their health centre flooded, and the resulting state of emergency prompted a wide-scale evacuation.
On April 13, a sudden temperature jump to 12 degrees Celsius caused a rapid snow melt. Water pooled between the diesel tank and the health facility, and then the basement flooded for the third consecutive year.
As sump pumps failed, the thick smell of fuel hung in the air for 25 metres in every direction around the building. The tank and pipes used to power the centre had been replaced only six months ago.
A worker claimed to have found a fuel filter tipped over, but it's still undetermined whether a diesel spill has occurred or whether airborne spores from mould pose health risks. Air tests have shown acceptable levels of carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide, while geotechnical testing and soil samples are expected to take three weeks.
Meanwhile, staff are moving files and equipment into a duplex home that will serve as a temporary health facility, while work crews build accessibility infrastructure.
Some community members are beginning to ask their leaders if a new facility should be built, but Neskantaga Councillor Bradley Moonias anticipates the short-term fix will have to support their needs, at least through the summer. He’s surprised to find Indigenous Services Canada had no emergency plan if the health centre failed.
“There should be a plan for our people. We’re remote-access. The government should have a plan in place for situations like this,” Moonias says.
“If a health facility is all-of-a-sudden deemed unsafe, there should be a plan in place on how to respond to it quickly. We’re all entitled to health care.”
This emergent problem is only the latest in a series of infrastructure failures that impact nearly every aspect of life. Buildings erected in the mid-1990s, when the federal government relocated the community, are beginning to break down.
Quisess, Moonias and the rest of the new council took office only two weeks before the flood. Within days, the school’s boiler broke down, cancelling classes for the last 10 days before the evacuation. Some road infrastructure has been washed away.
Compounding infrastructure problems, Neskantaga is the site of Canada’s longest boil-water advisory.
The experimental process used to construct the water purification plant 30 years ago has never worked, and plans for a new system are now restarting at both the capital planning and technical tables.
Chief Quisess says the community moved under duress, and between all of these failed promises and infrastructure, no one has made any offer or promise of any benefit his community might get from mining.
“We were promised we were going to live healthy, that there was going to be clean drinking water. Our old community was demolished. We were forced by the government, if you don’t demolish it, you’re not going to get new housing,” he says. “And they come over and do their thing, and we get nothing out of it? I don’t think that’s right.”
Coun. Lashaunda Waswa dances at a Matawa Education Centre pow wow and feast to celebrate Neskantaga members, who have been living in Thunder Bay hotels for a month.
Fourteen-year-old Jayla Troutlake was in her tent when the text came through that her family needed to come home from the annual spring migratory goose hunt for the evacuation. She’s a self-described “newbie” as a sharpshooter, but she’s passionate about being out on the land at this time of year.
Instead, she’s now spending her days in her hotel room and a makeshift classroom, where highlights are getting ready for breakfast and dinner.
“It’s really sad. We’re staying at the hotel and there’s not really much to do,” she says. “I see elders or adults upset, and it makes my heart shatter.”
Over that time, three members have gone missing. They include two 12-year-olds who didn’t come home overnight and another youth with mental health challenges. All three were eventually found.
Neskantaga’s youngest councillor, 21-year-old Lashaunda Waswa, moved home in January to run for council because her grandfather’s trapline is downriver on the land where Ring of Fire mines are proposed.
Her greatest concern is for those members who are in recovery from addiction and have now spent weeks in Thunder Bay, where drugs are much more available than they are back home.
Waswa says that while most people living with complex health conditions and addictions flew out early, many in recovery had initially opted to remain behind, choosing to risk becoming sick or injured in the community over the risk of relapsing in the city. But in the end, a whole plane load chose to join their family members in Thunder Bay.
“When you have an addiction and you recover from that, it’s hard to say no when you’re offered more substances. Most of the people with addictions have children and most of those children are vulnerable,” she says.
Indigenous Services Canada has made funding available for mental health counsellors and Red Cross workers in both Thunder Bay and Neskantaga.
“It’s exhausting but we’re managing,” says Neskantaga’s nurse in charge, Mark Banyai.As the health centre’s flooding and testing continues and a temporary site is assembled, Banyai and his staff of two nurses are already thinking about the needs the 176 evacuated members will have when they return. Concerns like influenza and COVID are top-of-mind, and Banyai hopes the community will be well-resourced for those addictions concerns as well.
“When you have somebody who has been clean for a handful of months and you put them in an environment which is full of drugs – because Thunder Bay is just full of drugs, it’s ridiculous – put them in that environment and it’s hard to control.
I do suspect substance abuse will be an issue and when they come back. Bringing in substances may also be an issue.”
Riccochet / Local Journalism Initiative
