The Dominion - Moira Peters

Mi'kmaq to Obstruct Traffic to Fight Oil and Gas Exploration at Lake Ainslie

Moira Peters — Fri, 14 Sep 2012 14:14:51 +0000

First Nations call for a complete halt to drilling in Cape Breton

AULD'S COVE, NS—Mi’kmaq people from Cape Breton and the Nova Scotia mainland are preparing to set up a “partial blockade” of the Trans-Canada Highway in Auld’s Cove, on the mainland side of the Canso Causeway, the access point to Cape Breton.

By 1:30 yesterday afternoon, about 25 people had gathered, setting up flags and signs, and organizing a teepee and food for the warriors and their supporters.

The blockade is in opposition to exploratory oil and gas drilling by PetroWorth Resources, scheduled to begin later this year on the shore of Lake Ainslie in western Cape Breton.

"We’re going to be slowing the traffic down to a bare stop," said Ginny Marshall, pipefitter and mother of four from Potlotek (Chapel Island) on Cape Breton. "But we’ll be allowing people to go through," while handing out information and pamphlets, she explained. "We have to make it known why water is sacred."

Mi’kmaq communities—and many non-Indigenous residents around Lake Ainslie—have been clear in their opposition to exploratory drilling around the watershed, saying that no amount of money is worth risking the pristine water resources that Lake Ainslie supports.

"I’m a pipefitter and I would benefit from this type of job," said Marshall, referring to the development the province says is necessary to the economically depressed region. "But...I’ve seen all the damages that it does...I cannot tell my children, my child...I didn’t try. I let this go. I knew they were going to destroy the water...and money was too important."

Emmett Peters of Paq’tnkek (Afton) emphasized the importance of the action for future generations.

"I don’t know if you’re familiar with the 1752 treaty, [which was affirmed in the 1999] Marshall Decision, where we’re allowed to hunt and fish. So they thought about us 300 years previous. That’s how strong that treaty was," said Peters.

"So now what we’re trying to do is leave something for our children...maybe all it could be is fresh water."

A ceremony is planned for this morning at the blockade site, to which all people are invited.

"We’re going to put up a teepee and we’re going to have a fire, drummers are going come in and drum, sing the honour song and we’re going to have one of our elders say an opening prayer just so everything goes good," said Peters yesterday. "We’re leading, but it’s for all human beings."

Organizers of the action are expecting supporters from Paq’tnkek, Eskasoni, Waycobah, Membertou and Potlotek First Nations. They are also expecting non-Indigenous supporters from the Green Party, Protect Lake Ainslie and the Margaree Environmental Association.

Peter Bernard, a Chief of the Mi’kmaq Warrior Society from Waycobah, estimated this action will last two days.

"We’re trying to do this as peaceful as possible," said Marshall. But she, Peters and Bernard added that they will not give up if the partial blockade doesn’t affect the changes they are looking for: a complete halt on any oil and gas exploration or drilling at Lake Ainslie.

"If they do drill that [exploratory] well, what’s going to stop them from fracking?" said Paul. "It’s going to cost them millions of dollars to drill that one hole. And just leave it? I don’t think so."

Marshall said that if the traffic slowdown doesn’t succeed in stopping PetroWorth’s well, a full blockade will be organized.

"We will take your time...we understand your time is your money," said Marshall. "If no other way is gonna put a stop to this, this is our last resort."

"We’re so lucky to have a place so safe in the world compared to other places," said Marshall. "Blue gold is going to be the next commodity...just like oil, it’s gonna be our water, because water is a key element to life."

PetroWorth Resources could not be reached for comment at the time of publication.

Moira Peters lives and bikes in Halifax. Ben Sichel is a teacher and writer, and editor for the Halifax Media Co-op, where this article was originally published.

Ginny Marshall

Causeway Blockade

Jeremy’s Case, Jordan’s Principle

dawn — Fri, 15 Jun 2012 14:35:50 +0000

Historic court case in Halifax identifies gap in health services for First Nations children

HALIFAX—In a precedent-setting case that continued in Halifax on Monday, Maurina Beadle and Pictou Landing First Nation took the Government of Canada to court over its failure to provide Beadle’s son the same level of health care that a child living off-reserve would receive from the province of Nova Scotia.

On the fourth anniversary of Prime Minister Stephen Harper's historic apology to First Nations people for the forced separation of children from their families under the residential school system, the Mi'kmaq mother was in court fighting for the health services that would allow her son Jeremy to remain at home under her care.

"All the things that were promised in Harper's apology are things they are not doing for Jeremy," said Philippa Pictou, Health Director for Pictou Landing First Nation, sitting on a bench in courtroom 501 in the Law Courts on Lower Water Street in Halifax on Monday morning. "Kids being pushed into institutions, instead of being cared for at home."

Jeremy Meawasige is a 17-year-old from Pictou Landing First Nation who was born with a complex array of disabilities and medical conditions. His mother, Maurina Beadle, had been providing all of his care without government assistance until a double stroke in May 2010 left her physically unable to meet his needs at home.

When, with help from the First Nation, Beadle applied for funding for home care health services, she found that her family's Aboriginal status caught her son in jurisdictional red tape that prevented him from receiving the same care on-reserve that he would be provided with by the province of Nova Scotia if he lived off-reserve.

With the support of Pictou, Beadle is invoking Jordan’s Principle for the first time in its history. The child-first policy passed unanimously in the House of Commons in 2007. It dictates that in the instance of a jurisdictional dispute over which level of government foots the bill for a First Nations child in need of medical care, the government first contacted must come up with the funds; any arguments over who ultimately pays for the child's care are to be argued later.

Jordan's Principle is named after Jordan River Anderson of Norway House Cree Nation, who lived all four years of his life in hospital while the governments of Manitoba and Canada fought over which level of government was responsible for paying for his home care.

Jordan's Principle has never been implemented in any province or territory.

"Should a disabled First Nations child on-reserve be entitled to the level of care available to any child off-reserve?" asked Paul Champ, the lawyer representing Beadle and Pictou Landing First Nation, in his opening comments.

Provincial governments generally provide continuing care health services in the home. But because First Nations fall under federal jurisdiction, provincial governments do not provide on-reserve health services.

The federal government, either under Health Canada or Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development Canada (AANDC, formerly INAC), is responsible for allocating to First Nation bands the resources to provide services "reasonably comparable to those provided by the province," Champ told the court on Monday. Bands must "administer program according to provincial legislation and standards."

In her decision to deny Beadle the requested funding, AANDC official Barbara Robinson argued that Beadle and Pictou Landing First Nation were requesting services above and beyond the "normative standard of care in Nova Scotia."

Champ argued that Robinson's interpretation of the normative standard of care in Nova Scotia is flawed. She determined that Jeremy Beadle is eligible to receive $2,200 per month, "full stop," explained Champ. $2,200 per month is the standard respite cap in Nova Scotia, according to a Community Services policy document.

However, a support program available for persons with disabilities in Nova Scotia—one designed to "maintain the integrity of families," including enabling people with disabilities to live at home&mdashincludes a section in which "exceptional circumstances" allow for additional respite funding. These circumstances are defined in a number of points, and all apply to Jeremy.

Upon cross-examination, Robinson conceded that the Beadles meet all exceptional circumstances criteria, but she also said that the "exceptional circumstances" part of the policy doesn't apply to Jeremy's case. Her reasoning, explained Champ, was that she relied on what happens "in practice," not necessarily in policy or law.

According to the Social Assistance Act, the government "shall furnish assistance to all persons in need," and this includes home care. Cabinet can prescribe maximum levels of assistance. No maximum has been legally established; the $2,200 cap is, effectively, arbitrary.

On Monday afternoon, the proceedings turned to Section 15 of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, the equality guarantee that ensures that all people have access to equal benefit of the law. Champ reminded the court that the purpose of the Charter is to entrench the goal of equality, in particular to protect those who have been historically disadvantaged.

"The disadvantage that First Nations have historically faced on reserves has never been resolved," said Champ. "Never. Never. First Nations people do not have equal access to schools, home care, or health."

Robinson, when making her decision in the Beadle case, stated that the Charter doesn't apply. Champ explained the exception to the guarantee of equality that excludes First Nations people who, because of their unique status, are not entitled to the equal benefit of the law.

First Nations people are the only legal group in Canada identified by race; they therefore fall into a "legal no-man's-land" because their situation can't be compared to anything--there is no comparative group with respect to which they can be discriminated. Therefore the Charter, and cases argued on the basis of discrimination, cannot be argued. Champ submitted that this is an improper way to interpret Section 15 of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

The services provided by the federal government--either by Health Canada or by Aboriginal Affairs--to people on-reserve, are not provided by legal obligation, but as a matter of policy, based on agreements and programs negotiated with First Nations band councils.

These services are policy, not law, Champ told the court. They are therefore discretionary, and provided according to the government official who interprets the policy. These agreements use such language as "Canada has elected to provide" a given service. These services are therefore a choice, provided at the discretion of the Government of Canada.

One such policy is Jordan's Principle. As an "expression of the House," it is not legally binding, but the federal government is seeking to implement the principle across the country. Where there is no formal agreement, there are dialogues premised on Jordan's Principle, said Champ. He added that in any other case he would not make the argument that Jordan’s Principle legally applies.

"But in this case, there are no statutes. We have policy manuals, funding agreements that change over time in content and funding levels essentially at the whim of the federal government. Do these policies have the form of law? Yes, because there is nothing else," said Champ. "This is, in a sense, is the best that we have."

The animated purpose of Jordan's Principle, he said, is to acknowledge the fact that First Nations people are in a unique legal situation, and also to rectify the historical disadvantage of First Nations people.

A breach of Jordan's Principle is evidence of discrimination, said Champ. "When a child is denied service for one day, as a result of a jurisdictional dispute, that is a breach of Jordan's Principle, and it is always a breach of Section 15 of the Charter."

After the Crown’s submissions and the applicants' responses, Judge Mandimen acknowledged that the case is time-sensitive. Recognizing that the Pictou Landing First Nation cannot continue to provide funding for Beadle’s home care, Mandimen said that he would move his decision through as soon as possible.

Beadle—and First Nations across the country who are watching this case—will still have to wait up to six months for a ruling, although after the trial Champ said he hopes for a ruling by the end of August.

"I know this [case] won’t necessarily change things for Jeremy, by the time it’s over," said Beadle. "But this isn’t for Jeremy. This is for children across the country. They shouldn’t have to wait while the people in power procrastinate."

Moira Peters lives and bikes in Halifax.

A version of this article was originally published by the Halifax Media Co-op as a series, including an introductory article and blog posts about Monday’s morning and afternoon court proceedings. The last post of the series covering Monday’s court proceedings will be published by the Halifax Media Co-op later today.

Maurina Beadle at Pictou Landing

Closed to the Community but Open for Business

Miles — Fri, 09 Mar 2012 09:08:07 +0000

Botched Sale of St. Pat's-Alexandra School a Provincial Trend

HALIFAX—When a school is closed or given over to private developers, affected communities cry foul, and cry loudly.

But it's not just the loss of a building, or the inconvenience of sending children farther afield for their education, that strikes a community as unjust.

"When you take a school out of a neighbourhood...when you take away what holds and binds people together, the community falls away," said Reverend Rhonda Britton of Cornwallis Street Baptist Church, addressing a crowd of 150 people who gathered at St. Patrick's-Alexandra school in December. "We will fight to keep our neighbourhood."

Halifax City Council's acceptance of a private bid for the St. Pat's-Alexandra school, which closed its doors in June 2011 when students left for the summer, has been the subject of intense criticism from North End residents, neighbourhood organizations, media and the wider HRM community. Council's processes, both in its call for bids and its decision to accept an offer from Jono Developments, violated its own policies and showed lack of respect for the neighbourhood that can be only interpreted as racism, say community and media critics.

The fiery controversy around the sale of the North End school (to be replaced with condos) is not unique. The closure and privatization of schools and former school buildings in marginalized communities--a provincial trend--touch those communities in a particularly sensitive way, threatening their collective identities, and their very existence.

Rural communities are particularly vulnerable, as the provincial funding formula for schools is based on enrollment. Trends show declining enrollment in rural communities in Nova Scotia, translating into fewer education dollars, and eventually, the closure of rural schools.

Communities all over Nova Scotia have been resisting the closure of their schools. In the past two years, groups have sprung up to save schools in Weymouth, Antigonish and Halifax, as well as forming the Save Community Schools, a province-wide coalition of concerned parents.

When the Margaree Forks District School in western Cape Breton was slated for closure in 1990, citizens of the area mobilized with urgency. Recognizing that the enrollment-based funding formula would always work against schools in rural areas, citizens of Margaree undertook a lobbying and awareness-raising campaign to change that formula.

The Margaree Education Coalition (MEC) coordinated a series of three "Kitchen Forums," 88 neighbourhood meetings in all, that sought to identify the community's vision for education of its children. MEC drafted a strategic plan for community-based public schools, which would still use the provincial funding formula, but would also lean heavily on the resources of the community. It published the strategic plan in a 2000 report, The New Learning Guide: Education Opportunities, Alternatives and Enhancements for Maritime Communities.

The school in Margaree was eventually closed, and replaced with a Public-Private Partnership (P-3) school on the outskirts of the community.

The loss of a school in a rural community contributes to the decline of that community, which is already vulnerable to the forces of urbanization and economic restructuring, says Dr. Paul Bennett in his book Vanishing Schools, Threatened Communities: The Contested Schoolhouse in Maritime Canada. A rural community without a school is not particularly attractive to young families, who must consider long bus rides for their children and lengthy travel for themselves for parent-teacher meetings and extra-curricular activities.

The loss of a neighbourhood school threatens urban communities in a similar way.

"In the last few years, people who have written off the North End have begun to see that it is a prime location for people who work downtown," said Reverend Britton at the December rally. "They see it has a certain vibe that makes it attractive and a trendy place to live. And now we witness the gentrification of the neighbourhood as developers grab as much of the land as they can to build condos and high-rises, while our children do not have the necessary services that they need to survive--to thrive."

Reverend Britton reminded the crowd that the sale of St. Pat's-Alexandra was only the latest in a series of betrayals by city and school officials. The decision to close the unique school--one of the few in Nova Scotia with Africentric curricula--was fought hard by residents and neighbourhood groups. She didn't have to mention the history of Africville, where Black Nova Scotians, already living with toxic industries in their neighbourhood, were forced out of their community in the North End by city re-zoning.

"The city is robbing the North End of a $6 million asset, and putting it elsewhere," says Jane Moloney, executive director of the North End Community Health Centre (NECHC). The Centre, which has been serving the North End for 40 years, was involved in the bidding for the St. Pat's-Alexandra building. "The sense is, we have so little, and they're taking that away, threatening our existence."

"What we are hearing is that residents are afraid. A lot of people here are residents of Uniacke Square...and they worry that they will not be valued as neighbours [if condos are built on the school site]. They feel the value of keeping their community is under threat." Moloney speculated that condo-dwellers demand trendy cafes and expensive restaurants, which do not meet the needs of the North End community, which has no banking or grocery services. "To whom is the city responsive?" she said.

After St. Pat's-Alexandra was closed in June 2011, the city of Halifax opened its bidding process with a short time-line that already put community organizations--often operating on volunteer labour--at a disadvantage. The NECHC submitted an "expression of interest," which requested that the city, as a condition of the sale, require the successful bidder to turn over a smaller building on the site to the NECHC, which would meet the NECHC's growing need for space.

Neighbourhood organizations are permitted to pursue expressions of interest in light of their relative lack of resources to develop a full bid. But instead of evaluating the expression of interest as such, the NECHC's submission was scored as a full bid. The NECHC never received a response from council on its proposal regarding the smaller building.

It was discovered later that council had ignored another policy, put in place in 1999, that guaranteed community consultations on the disposal of closed school buildings.

Instead of voting to repeal its decision on the sale of the school in light of this new information, council voted to scrap the policy itself.

The Mi'kmaq Friendship Centre and the Richard Preston Centre for Excellence also submitted bids for the St. Pat's-Alexandra site.

When the decision to close a school is presented in terms of dollars and cents, the case seems clear: close schools with declining enrollment, transfer students to another school, and save money by sharing resources among more students.

The provincial per-student funding formula functions on a market model of supply and demand. With funding based on enrollment, a school's productivity is measured simply by the number of students it graduates, and says nothing about the quality of the education they receive.

Such a formula fails to account, for example, for the richness that keeping a school within a community can offer. According to a 2006 report by Dr. Michael Corbett of Acadia University and Dennis Mulcahy of Memorial University, "small schools do a better job of educating children."

After a school is closed, the municipality can sell it off, making money off the real estate and buildings.

In the case of the St. Pat's site, councillors were given information on the monetary savings a private sale would provide the city. This financial picture seemed to trump the sense that a city ought to follow its own policies.

Councillors were not asked to take into consideration the value of that infrastructure to the health of the neighbourhood--where public services and community groups could create a space of cohesion and empowerment.

"We were required under the [Request For Proposals] to answer the question: how would our proposal meet the mandate of the city?" said Moloney. The NECHC had to demonstrate that its use of the facility would conform to the vision outlined in HRM By Design, as well as energy and recreation guidelines set by HRM.

NECHC's "bid" scored 63/100. Since financial considerations were given 40 points, and NECHC's submission was not financially strong, Moloney reasons that the score reflects that the health centre's proposal must have otherwise met the city's own mandate for use for St. Pat's-Alexandra.

"If we moved into the school, we would be moving back into the heart of the community we serve," she said.

Bennett points out in his book that education is a key location for popular struggles--essentially people fighting to keep their homes and ways of life.

"We're scared [the city is] going to rush this process through and give a demolition permit [to Jono Development]," said Moloney. "The cost of a new building will be $15-20 million," putting further out of reach the possibility of community organizations purchasing the space. "We're worried they're going to knock it down, and knock it down fast, so we stop fighting it. And if I feel this way as someone who works here, I can't imagine what it must feel like for the people who live here."

Moira Peters grew up in Margaree and was involved in the mobilization to save the community's school. This article is the first in a series of articles about the closure and privatization of public schools in Nova Scotia.

St. Pats-Alexandra

Early Life's Long Reach Forward

stephlaw — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 09:19:18 +0000

Can a parenting co-op in Cape Breton save the economy?

HALIFAX—A report released in January by the Canadian Paediatrics Society (CPS) outlines a simple adjustment in family services that would lead to an economic revolution in Canada, and it’s all about facilitating early childhood development.

The society’s 2012 status report, Are We Doing Enough, showed that for every dollar spent in the early childhood years, the government could see $4 to $8 in return to society. It noted, in particular, the provincially funded early learning and childcare program in Quebec, which undoubtedly played a role in increasing the number of women in the workforce by four per cent, and in increasing the provincial GDP by $5.2 billion.

But the report said that the federal government isn’t doing enough to advance early learning and childcare programs across the country.

A group of young women in Inverness, an old coal-mining town in rural Nova Scotia, are not waiting around for the government to catch on. With the help of a municipal councillor, the women have decided to start the revolution in their town.

“There is a lack of honouring the role of the child and the woman in building a pluralistic, empathetic world,” says Jim Mustard, a councillor for the County of Inverness. There is little in the way of public services aimed at enriching the lives of people ages zero to five, he notes, even though these are the people who determine the health and vibrancy of a community.

In an effort to support the county's population of young families, Mustard, along with seven mothers, formed the Inverness Early Years Co-op.

Inverness, population 2,000, is a little different from nearby villages in that it enjoys a critical amount of built infrastructure: a hospital, an arena, a school, a food bank and low-income housing. “Families don’t need two cars to survive here,” says Mustard. “It’s a nest for people to land in and stay.”

Still, to an outsider, a small town in an economically depressed region of Nova Scotia may not seem like the place such an initiative might flourish, but for Diana MacLellan, a 25-year-old single mother originally from Inverness, and a member of the co-op’s board of directors, it makes perfect sense.

“I always had a baby on my hip,” she says. “I have a large extended family: 22 aunts and uncles, 52 cousins. You know, someone to turn to, everyone to answer to.” The supportive dynamic of a large, tight-knit family was common when she was growing up, but it has faded as families moved away from their rural roots in search of more economically viable livelihoods in urban centres and in oil-rich Alberta.

“We’re trying to bring that [family support] back,” she says.

The Inverness Early Years Co-op is not yet operational, but its board has been meeting since June 2010, and plans are underway to partner with the Inverness Cottage Workshop to build a space for the co-op’s services. The centre will be 11,000 square feet, and “a model of energy efficiency,” says Mustard, using local energy sources such as biomass pellets from naturally regenerating alders and solar power. The town of Inverness has already raised $700,000—one-third of the building's cost—and hopes to raise another third from the province. The board hopes the co-op will be open in eight months.

“We’re creating a platform to grow a community,” says Mustard.

Like many other towns and villages in rural Nova Scotia, Inverness suffers from a constant cutback in support services for families, Mustard says. The obstetrics unit in the Inverness hospital was cut eight years ago. Now, women in Inverness have to drive two hours to the nearest obstetrics unit, in Antigonish, to give birth.

In addition to rural hospitals losing their services for young families, Nova Scotia has also closed dozens of rural schools over the past 15 years. Last year, the federal government further cut five Service Canada offices out of rural Cape Breton.

Because a child's health begins with the mother's, the Inverness Early Years Co-op is geared towards relieving the woman’s financial stress by offering training for employment skills, while providing a place to share childcare. In-kind payments will be an option for low-income families.

“We want to have licensed childcare, an informal drop-in, with prenatal [services], breastfeeding, a playgroup, and a place for families to convene with a specialist,” says MacLellan. “The centre has to be accessible to absolutely everybody.”

The gap in services for the early years of a person's life—from in utero to age five—is a national trend. Canada ranks last among 25 wealthy Western nations in its support for early childhood development policies, according to a 2011 report by the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) and UNICEF. Canada also comes second-last among 34 OECD nations in spending on childcare and pre-primary education.

This is ironic, given the firm Canadian roots of the interdisciplinary research that led to the groundbreaking 1999 Canadian Early Years Study: Reversing the Real Brain Drain, done by the late Dr. Fraser Mustard (father of Inverness's municipal councillor) and Margaret Norrie McCain. The study called on the federal government to establish parenting centres to support families, beginning at pregnancy. Dr. Mustard was a world-reknowned pioneer in recognizing the impact of early brain development on quality of life, and he co-authored two follow-up early years studies; the most recent was released a few days after his death in November 2011.

These early years studies stem from neuroplasticity research, which is based on the principle that your brain is “plastic.” It can learn new things through practice, but it could also lose learnt things when they aren’t practiced.

During the first few years of life, this brain development takes place at an incredible rate; it triples in size by the time a child reaches the age of three. Early years, therefore, present "great opportunities and great risks that set trajectories across a lifetime," according to the Council for Early Child Development (CECD), founded by Dr. Mustard and colleagues to continue the work initiated in the first Early Years Study. The CECD ceased operations in 2010 due to lack of funding.

Dr. Mustard and McCain's first study in 1999 argued that parenting centres would save billions of dollars down the road.

Not only do early developmental deficits, caused by poor health and environment, devastate the lives of the children in question, but they also cost Canada dearly through welfare, health care, prisons and remediation, and result in lower contributions to society, according to six economists writing for the Journal of Public Health in 2010.

"The country now tolerates an unnecessary brain drain that will dramatically deplete our future stock of human capital,” write the economists, of Canada’s lost opportunities for productivity by lack of investment in its citizens’ early years. Over a quarter of Canadian children enter kindergarten not fully prepared to learn, they report.

Early child development programs also significantly reduce the cost of mental illness, the second-leading cause of disability and premature death in Canada. Mental illness costs $51 billion per year in Canada due to costs in health care and loss of productivity.

Canada was on the road to becoming an international leader in early child development programs with a national childcare strategy, to which the federal government committed $5 billion over five years in 2004. Agreements were signed between the federal and provincial and territorial governments, which would receive transfer payments for establishing early learning and childcare plans.

But when Conservative Prime Minister Stephen Harper came to power in 2006, that plan was scrapped.

The 2004 vision for a national framework on early years development was crucial if Canada wanted return on its investment in early child development, according to Dr. Danielle Grenier and Dr. Denis Leduc from the Canadian Paediatric Society in a 2008 article.

"The belief that such a system can create itself in the absence of national leadership is simply flawed," they write. "At best, Canada's early childhood education and care 'system' is a patchwork of policies and programs—creating geographical and income inequities."

Nova Scotia, says Mustard, falls behind other provinces in its commitment to strategize around the link between maternal health and childhood development—it puts the least resources, out of any province, into early child development. In fact, in spite of CPS's recommendations to invest in early years education, the province's Department of Education announced on February 3 its "Kids and Learning First" plan, which would invest $6.7 million in initiatives such as a Discovering Opportunities for Grade 9, virtual courses and skilled trade courses geared to shipbuilding. But none of the funds will be dedicated to early development initiatives. The department did not respond to requests for an interview.

The Inverness initiative demonstrates an alternative angle on economics in the choice to form a co-op, distinct from a profit-driven enterprise.

“The co-op model is most responsive when trying to develop something as open as an early years centre,” says Mustard. “The model makes sense.”

“This is not about targeting families with problems,” says Councillor Mustard, “but building a centre in the community to support all parents, where all issues are put in a holistic perspective.”

Twenty-five-year-old single mother Diana MacLellan agrees with Mustard and believes the co-op model will work to improve her child’s development and health.

“The community has to have ownership in the centre, and be able to make changes and decisions,” says MacLellan.

With this co-op in place, MacLellan says women might be able to regain the community network that once existed in Inverness.

“If anything ever happened, I could walk into any house for help and support,” she says. “It's about feeling safe.”

Moira grew up near Inverness, and now lives and bikes in Halifax.

Questions? Comments? Drop us a line: info@mediacoop.ca.

Baby co-op

Environment Canada Terminates Funding to Environmental Networks

hillarybain — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 09:05:21 +0000

Biggest loser is government, say environmentalists

HALIFAX—Grassroots environmental groups and organizers were hit hard by the federal government's announcement on October 13 that the half-million dollars that funds Canada's environmental networks will be terminated. For people like Katherine Gagne of Gays River, NS, this means the opportunities she has had to engage with the province of Nova Scotia about the lead and zinc mine in her village have disappeared. But speaking at a press conference in Halifax on October 19, Gagne argued that the biggest loser in this deal is government.

"For this tiny amount of money, Environment Canada is shooting itself in the foot," she said, explaining that paid bureaucrats are obligated to use taxpayers' resources to respond to all citizens' correspondence and concerns. "NSEN [Nova Scotia Environmental Network] has shown us how to approach government and community in an intelligent way."

Gagne said that with support from NSEN, she and her neighbours formed the Gay's River Valley Environmental Protection Association, and have been working to ensure a nearby lead and zinc mine operates strictly within regulations of the Departments of Natural Resources and the Environment.

"A lot of people like me want to get involved, but we need some kind of structure to help form the relationships," she said.

The (Reseau) Canadian Environmental Network (RCEN) was established in 1977 to promote and streamline environmental work being done by grassroots organizations and to provide Canadians working on the ground a platform for engagement with Environment Canada and their provincial departments.

In fact, RCEN plays a critical role in democratic policy-building in Canada, functioning as the formal mechanism for federally-legislated consultations on environmental policy and projects; "meaningful public participation" is called for in the Canadian Environmental Assessment Act.

"Small and often volunteer organizations take part in these consultations," said Jennifer McGowan from the Ecology Action Centre, another NSEN member group. Through the RCEN, "the environmental community decides who best speaks to a particular consultation topic, through a transparent application process," she said. In this way, community-sourced, scientific, Indigenous and traditional knowledge is filtered to provincial and federal policy.

"RCEN is not a special interest lobby group," said McGowan, who added, tongue-in-cheek, "This announcement only affects Canadians who breathe air and drink water and eat food."

"'Austerity measures' is code for 'spending priorities,'" said Angela Giles of the Council of Canadians, pointing out that these priorities were playing out the very day of the NSEN-organized press conference. While the panel addressed the Harper government's $547,000 cutback to grassroots environmental work across the country, Nova Scotia Premier Darrell Dexter was at the Halifax shipyards to congratulate Irving Shipbuilding on its $25 billion federal contract win. Media attention was painfully absent at RCEN's press conference (this volunteer reporter was the sole media person present). And the announcement that cut nearly $20,000 from Nova Scotia's environmental communities alone also came the day after Dexter announced a $10 million provincial investment in aerospace and defence jobs in Nova Scotia.

The nation-wide cuts amount to $547,000—the entire core budget for RCEN's Ottawa office, the 10 provincial networks and the Yukon network. Nova Scotia's allotment—based on population—would have been $18,000.

In an October 13 letter to RCEN, Environment Canada's Nancy Roberts wrote that the decision to cut the network's funding "reflects a broader shift away from providing core organizational funding...as part of Environment Canada's ongoing efforts to allocate its resources in the most efficient and cost-effective manner possible."

The panelists at the press conference on October 19 weren't buying that.

"The knowledge, resources and expertise amassed by 647 environmental groups over 34 years is priceless—you can't buy it," said NSEN Advisor Sheila Cole. "This is the best possible value Environment Canada could ever find."

RCEN member groups represent some 630,000 active individuals. Ninety-eight per cent of the work done in the networks is voluntary.

According to a study last year by Phoenix Youth Progams, investing in non-profit organizations is an extremely efficient use of public dollars because the calibre of workers is so high—three-quarters of people employed by non-profits in Nova Scotia hold at least one university degree. The study found that non-profits provide services at a cheaper rate than government or industry.

Janelle Frail, director of Nova Scotia's network, may not have her job come January, when NSEN's bank account runs dry. However, she agrees that the environment sector cuts leave the government itself the most serious casualty.

"Our annual meeting with the province is hugely beneficial to them: instead of having to organize 60 meetings, they have one," she said. NSEN, which celebrated its 20th anniversary this year, works with 62 grassroots environmental groups in Nova Scotia.

"We were very disappointed to hear of Environment Canada's decision to no longer fund this important work," wrote Nova Scotia Environment Minister Sterling Belliveau in an email. "I have written a letter to [federal Environment] Minister [Peter] Kent, asking him to reconsider this decision."

Halifax city councillors Peter Lund and Jennifer Watts announced they had just passed a resolution at City Hall to send a letter on behalf of Halifax Regional Municipality to Environment Canada, asking the department to reverse the cuts. "We hope the FCM [Federation of Canadian Municipalities] will get involved in this," said Lund.

In an interview after the conference, Frail explained how the networks have been stretched thin over time.

"Prior to 2006, RCEN received about $1 million. A half-million was to fund consultations, the other half was to run the networks. The consultations are still happening, but they're piecemeal: networks have to apply for grants as they come along," she said, explaining that this puts further strain on staff and volunteers to seek out and apply for monies that used to be provided in one chunk.

"For 30 years, the federal Minister of the Environment came to our AGMs...and there was lots of time to engage with our members," said Cole. "Only since the current majority Conservative government does the minister not come to our meetings, or even answer our calls."

"In any other sector, if that minister did not speak to their constituents... Can you imagine if the Department of Fisheries and Oceans didn't speak to fishermen's associations, or if the Department of Agriculture refused to return farmers' phone calls?" said McGowan. "It's mindblowing."

"Year after year we have sat at the table with industry," said Cole, describing RCEN's internationally-reknowned Multi-Stakeholder Decision-Making process, whereby government, academics, scientists and environmentalists cultivated relationships with Nova Scotia's paintings & coatings industry.

"There are very good people in the industry, and they were seeing the opportunities in manufacturing environmentally friendly products," said Cole, explaining NSEN's work in volatile and organic compounds which helped "put good paints on the shelves in Nova Scotia.

"Canada was at a point internationally to take the lead in green industry—without the greenwashing. Now, Canada has a horrific reputation," she said, citing Canada's international campaigns to rebrand oil from the tar sands "Ethical Oil."

"Nature Nova Scotia wishes to express shock and regret over the recent announcement," wrote Bob Bancroft, celebrated Nova Scotian biologist, in a letter of support to NSEN. "This is a broken promise, Mr. Kent."

The promise was a letter of intent, sent by Environment Canada to RCEN in August, which stated that RCEN's funding was coming. The funds, promised in August, and which never came, was to run the networks—including paying staff—for the 2011 fiscal year. RCEN announced on October 13 that its staff would be laid off as of the following day.

"Networks have been paying staff from their bank accounts for the past six months, assuming they'd be back-paid," said Frail, who also said Environment Canada's practice of delaying funding to RCEN was nothing new. "I once worked for four months without getting paid." She said that, over the year as federal funding continued to be delayed, she cut her hours from 30 per week to 20 to 10.

Now, she is unsure what will happen to NSEN, or to her work within the network.

"Everything is on pause—what should I continue to do? Should our rep continue to be part of the Nova Scotia Water Advisory Group? Will I continue to sit on the Minister's Roundtable on Environment and Sustainable Prosperity?" she said. "And remember, this is being repeated 11 times over—in 10 provinces and one territory."

Newfoundland & Labrador, New Brunswick and Manitoba are the only three networks that have confirmed they have enough cash to stay active until March 2012.

Cutting out Canada's environmental networks evokes a grim image of a "disjointed, disengaged and alienated" environmental community, according to Gina Patterson of Clean Nova Scotia.

"They're saying there's a shift to web-based consultations. Does this mean that corporations and politicians will also be shifted to web-based consultations?" said McGowan. "Or will they still be at the table while small environmental organizations are plugging away at their computers?"

Frail agrees. "For me, the worst part is that the government is going to cherry-pick who can sit at the decision-making table, instead of us deciding who sits at the table."

Moira Peters lives and bikes in Halifax.

This article was originally published by the Halifax Media Co-op

NSEN Youth

Legal Toolkit

It's a Matter of Jordan's Principle

Martin Lukacs — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 10:43:16 +0000

Canada's health care system leaves Native child behind

PICTOU LANDING, NS—Maurina Beadle doesn’t sleep at night. She naps. While her son Jeremy sleeps on a bed attached to her own, Beadle has trained herself to be constantly alert.

“After 16 years, your body gets used to it,” she says.

Jeremy Beadle Meawasige, known as Kicking Bear in his hometown of Pictou Landing First Nation in Nova Scotia, has been diagnosed with hydrocephalus, cerebral palsy, spinal curvature and autism. He needs to be fed, changed and dressed. He can’t walk by himself. He frequently visits the hospital and has undergone numerous operations.

Beadle was always the sole caregiver for the 16-year-old. Their lives changed dramatically last May, when she suffered a double stroke that left her incontinent, in a wheelchair and unable to use her hands. "Doctors said I would never walk again," says Beadle.

"Maurina never had any help," says Philippa Pictou, Health Director for Pictou Landing First Nation, who has known the family for years. She said that after Beadle's stroke, "she worked really hard to regain capacity with writing exercises—hours and hours. She was determined to walk again."

Maurina Beadle walks with a cane and opts for the lighter plates in the cupboard to serve dinner. Her strong features and wit more than compensate for her modest stature.

She now accepts day workers into her home to help with housekeeping and caring for her son, although she says this was difficult for her at first.

"Maurina is committed to caring for Jeremy," says Pictou, but when the stroke made it impossible for Beadle to do so by herself, the health director began the process of accessing an $11 million federal fund for First Nations children with complex disabilities.

The fund was initiated by Health Canada in response to Jordan's Principle, a "child-first" policy designed to ensure First Nations children do not suffer delays or disruptions in essential health services if the funding source for their care becomes unclear.

Pictou’s inquiry was stymied first at the federal level, which is responsible for First Nations health care. Then it was stymied by the province, which controls most of, arguably the best, and certainly the most readily available health services.

In spite of Pictou and Beadle’s diligence, it took five months for any level of government to offer Jeremy health services. Jeremy's case is just one more added to the astounding statistics that show how the most vulnerable people in Canada—First Nations children—have the greatest difficulty receiving the health care they need.

A year-and-a-half later, Jeremy’s future care remains unsettled, and the family has decided to take the federal government to court.

"Through all this," says Beadle, as she lifts her right ankle on top of her left knee and lights a cigarette, "I think about the things that nobody saw, the years of seeing him puke, seeing him take off his diaper and play with his..." She trails off. "And I had to put him in a tub with a little water so he could play around—not too much water—while I cleaned up."

Jeremy sits on the couch, ankle crossed over his opposite knee, balancing his toy piano across his lap, trumpeting his lips to the machine's rendition of "Besame Mucho." A t-shirt holds his arms loosely against his chest—to prevent him from hitting himself—and his long fingers press the toy's buttons. His smile grows wide when George Billington, his evening caretaker, asks whether he wants to go for a cruise. "Socks 'n' shoes on," says Jeremy. "Seatbelt on for safety."

"When I was trained by FNIH [First Nations and Inuit Health], we were given workshops and attended meetings about Jordan's Principle and what it meant," says Pictou, who was also trained in the child-first policy while she worked for Health Canada. "It didn't occur to me that when we ran into a situation that fell under Jordan's Principle that [the funding] would be so hard to access."

Jordan's Principle is named in honour of Jordan River Anderson of Norway House Cree Nation, who spent all his life in hospital while the province of Manitoba and the government of Canada argued over who was responsible for funding the child's care at home. Jordan died at the age of four, having never lived at home.

"To access Jordan's Principle, we had to prove what kind of care Jeremy would get if he were off-reserve," says Pictou. An assessment was required, one that would identify the normative—standard—level of health services any non-status Nova Scotian child would receive.

In the meantime, while Beadle was recovering in hospital, Pictou Landing Band Council hired home-care workers to take care of Jeremy, "without knowing whether we were doing the right thing, whether the workers were able to provide Jeremy what he needed," says Pictou.

Five months after Beadle's stroke, Pictou Landing received approval from the office of Maureen MacDonald, Health Minister of Nova Scotia, for Continuing Care to assess Jeremy's needs. Continuing Care—the provincial service that performs home assessments—uses sophisticated computerized programs and trained staff whose services could weigh Jeremy’s needs against available provincial programs. However, Nova Scotia Continuing Care’s policy does not allow staff to work on reserves—First Nations health care is supposed to be covered by the federal Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development (AAND). However, no equivalent assessment program exists for First Nations in Nova Scotia.

"The Minister's office made it clear that the approval was for one instance only, and that no other services would be provided," says Pictou.

According to a report by an ad-hoc coalition of Aboriginal and social justice organizations, First Nations children receive two-and-a-half times fewer resources than non-status Canadian children. Although AAND (previously Indian and Northern Affairs Canada—INAC) has committed to mirror provincial health care programs for people living on reserves, the relative geographic isolation of reserves across the country means resources for people living on reserve are distributed over greater distances, making specialized services particularly difficult to access.

After months of conferences with the Pictou Landing community health nurse, INAC, Health Canada, Jeremy's school, the tribal council, Band lawyers and the Band council, the provincial and federal governments decided that the funding to be offered to Jeremy for respite (at-home) services would be $2,200 per month—the standard respite cap in Nova Scotia. If Jeremy's care cost more than that—which it does—he would have to be moved to an institution.

According to Nova Scotia’s Department of Community Services, no institution in Nova Scotia can meet Jeremy's round-the-clock needs.

Situations such as Jeremy’s are not uncommon, and they are compounded by disputes between governments over who is responsible for paying for health care for status-Indian children. Research in the First Nations Child and Family Caring Society of Canada 2005 Wen:de Report indicates that these bureaucratic conflicts are common, with 393 cases in 12 sample First Nations in 2005.

“[J]urisdictional disputes continue to have significant impacts on the lived experiences of First Nations children—particularly those with special needs. Although both the federal and provincial governments embrace the principle that the safety and well being of the child is a paramount consideration, in practice jurisdictional disputes often supersede the interests of children," according to the report.

Jordan's Principle was supposed to fill this gap in health services. The bill states, "The obligation to meet the needs of the child first always supersedes government interests to establish jurisdictional dispute processes." Although Jordan's Principle passed unanimously in the House of Commons in 2007 as Private Members Bill 296, it has never been implemented in full, either by the federal government or the provinces and territories.

In 2008, a bill for the implementation of Jordan's Principle never made it through the Manitoba Legislature.

"When the bill comes to be paid," said Manitoba Premier Gary Doer, concerned for the cost to the provincial tax-payer, "the federal government goes to the bathroom."

When asked how Nova Scotia sees the province’s role in providing health care services to children such as Jeremy who fall between jurisdictional cracks, the office of Maureen MacDonald responded, "[W]e support the child-first concept behind Jordan's Principle and recognize the importance of governments working together to ensure that all children, including First Nations children, receive the supports and services they need here in Nova Scotia." While it may support the child-first concept, the province has never implemented Jordan's Principle, which would require services to be provided without delay.

The response from the Nova Scotia health minister’s office goes on: "Fundamentally, we provide the best care we can in circumstances like this and there are negotiations about funds that sometimes follow."

"There's a complete lack of access across the country to Jordan's Principle," says Pictou. "This is a gatekeeper practice. The feds can say there are no jurisdictional issues and therefore the need for [Jordan's Principle] doesn't exist."

Pictou believes political conveniences encourage the institutionalization of First Nations children.

"It's a win-win situation for governments," she says. "Evergreen [Home for Special Care] is the only institution for under-18 children [with complex disabilities] in Nova Scotia. It only has 20 beds, currently four vacancies. If an off-reserve child is taking up a bed, the province pays. If a First Nations child is in a bed, the federal government pays."

In other words, the province benefits financially—to the tune of $350 per day—when status-Indian children are kept in care facilities. AAND, under pressure to deliver health care equal to provincial programs, benefits because it is seen to be providing good services.

According to Pictou, if he is moved out of his community, Jeremy will lose his culture, language and, most significantly, his mother's involvement in his life. "It would be a huge loss for Jeremy. I can't imagine it. The idea is inhumane."

The $350 per day cost at Evergreen is double what it would cost to keep Jeremy at home.

"It would make a lot of sense to have a small-options home in Pictou Landing," says Pictou. "Three to four beds, 24-hour staff. It would create more economic viability in the community.”

Pictou Landing First Nation is a community in pain. The reserve is sandwiched between Boat Harbour and Pictou Harbour, a stunning coastline where doctors and lawyers used to own summer cottages. But in 1965 Scott Maritimes built a pulp millon in Pictou Harbour and began dumping effluent in Boat Harbour via a long underground pipe. For 46 years, pulp waste has been gushing into Boat Harbour at the rate of 50,000 gallons per day. Sulfurous smog lies over the harbour, the beach and the bluffs. Residents of Pictou Landing say there have been no natural deaths in the community in the past four decades. There is no doubt that the reserve could use more health resources.

Plus, for Pictou, the sensible alternative to the expense and emotional pain of moving Jeremy out of his home is to move the services, not the child.

"I've worked in public health and in housing. I've fought for low-income families to get special needs funding," says Pictou. "I really don't think this happens off-reserve."

She began researching other options.

Pictou’s research revealed a bureaucratic gap between respite paid by the province to non-status children, and the at-home care available to on-reserve children through AAND. Nova Scotia offers a support program for persons with disabilities, designed to "maintain the integrity of families," including enabling people with disabilities to live at home and preventing the need for them to be moved out of their homes, according to the 2006 provincial policy document.

For Pictou, the interesting part of the policy is a section titled, "Exceptional Circumstances for Funding over $2,200."

The document outlines six criteria to be evaluated for approval of long-term funding above the $2,200 respite cap, and four criteria for additional short-term respite.

"Maurina and Jeremy fulfill every single one," says Pictou, as she scrolls through the lists and reads them aloud.

When Pictou raised this, AAND said its commitment to status-Indians does not include exceptional circumstances such as those identified by the provincial program.

In March 2011, a few days after AAND refused Beadle's application for extra funding, a Nova Scotian family in a similar situation filed for a judicial review of the $2,200 respite cap. They won. The judge ruled that the cap was an administrative policy designed to save money, and that it contradicted the Social Assistance Act. Nova Scotia Community Services was required to pay for the care necessary to keep Brian Boudreau, a 34-year-old with autism, at home.

The Pictou Landing Band Council and Maurina Beadle have brought the matter to court, challenging AAND, Health Canada and the Government of Canada on its decision to deny the Beadles additional at-home support.

Theirs is the first court challenge to use Jordan's Principle. In their notice of application, Band lawyers call the federal decision "contrary to provincial statutes and policies, Jordan's Principle and the right to equality under section 15 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms." Section 15 of the Charter says that every Canadian has the right to "equal benefit of the law without discrimination and, in particular, without discrimination based on race."

Pictou expects to be in court by January or February 2012.

"What irks me is I know what we could access if [Jeremy] were off-reserve, and it seems that roadblocks are put in place deliberately," says Pictou. "The same philosophies that drove the establishment of residential schools—that governments can raise children better than First Nations can—are behind the policies that trickle down today.”

The smog rolls over Beadle’s back porch. “No matter how long you live here, you never get used to it,” she says. It’s unclear whether she is talking about the pulp mill’s discharge, or something broader, deeper. An outsider can’t help wondering why the people in Pictou Landing don’t simply up and leave.

"When reporters ask me what I’ll do if Jeremy is moved to an institution, I tell them, 'Over my dead body,'" says Beadle. She watches Melanie Thomas, Jeremy’s day-time care worker, spoon-feed Jeremy his lunch.

"He won’t get no love in an institution."

A rally in support of implementing Jordan's Principle will take place in Halifax tomorrow.

Moira Peters lives and bikes in Halifax.

Jordan's Principle.Jeremy

Jordan's Principle.Maurina

This is Where the Revolution Starts

Maya Rolbin-Ghanie — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 06:42:21 +0000

19th annual Memorial March honours 3,000 missing and murdered women

VANCOUVER—"This is where the injustice starts."

On Valentine's Day in Vancouver's Downtown Eastside (DTES), and in memory of Canada's 3,000 missing and murdered women, Dalannah Bowen addressed 5,000 people from the steps of the Vancouver Police Department.

"This is where it starts for missing and murdered women," said the African-Canadian/Cherokee director of the Interurban Gallery in Vancouver.

Women with stories of friends and relatives gone missing or found dead—and of police inaction and disrespect—followed Bowen to the microphone. February 14 marked the 19th time Vancouver marched for missing and murdered women, and the first time they would march for women in the DTES while the city was otherwise preoccupied with the Olympics. It was day three of the Games.

"Each and every single person is part of this human family. We deserve to be treated like human beings," Bowen said.

Earlier in the morning at the Carnegie Centre, the DTES' "living room" on Main Street, every person gathered for the march witnessed a painful aspect of family: loss.

At 11:30am, 400 people were gathered on the steps of the Carnegie, around the corner, and along the sidewalk on both sides of the building. Most were women. By 12:20, the crowd had quadrupled and extended to all four corners. Buses made it through the intersection with difficulty. By 1pm, the entire intersection was blocked off, and "Carnegie hosts" in yellow vests linked hands, creating a corridor for the families of missing and murdered women to pass into the centre of the crowd. Most were women. Most were Native.

Drummers were invited into the centre, where they created an open space. A cry rose. Hands pointed skyward. Pigeons flapped around the rooftops and seagulls circled. Higher, with unmistakeable white heads and majestic wingspans, two eagles soared.

A woman with black hair in a loose pink shirt stood on the steps of the Carnegie, an eagle feather in her hand and a square of paper pressed to her breast. She raised the feather into the air and began a low wail: a song, a heartbreak. She concentrated on the sky, pleaded with the sky, and cried, her feather trembling.

The drums began and the crowd sang, for half-an-hour, while families filed out of the Carnegie patio and toward the centre of the intersection, holding banners. Some were dressed in Native regalia. Most were women.

The people marched.

"A nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground. Then it's lost; it's down. No matter what. No matter how strong its warriors; no matter how powerful its weapons," said Mabel Nipshank, a Metis woman of Cree and French descent. She exposed the original intent in the violence directed against Native women as she spoke from the steps of the police station. The priority for Europeans at first contact with Aboriginals, she said, was the disenfranchisement of women.

"They were afraid of the power of the First Nations women because when First Nations women spoke it echoed like thunder," she said.

Nipshank challenged two groups to collaborate in the demand for justice for killed and disappeared Indigenous women: First Nations leaders and non-Native feminists.

"I don't have a whole lot of trust in our Aboriginal leaders. They are pushing women off our territories and this"—she pointed to a placard with photos of hundreds of young women lost—"is what is happening to us. We need our leaders to challenge the colonial structures that have put us in poverty."

Nipshank called on feminists to quit talking the talk when they cannot walk the walk.

"Sometimes we don't fall into the white feminist ideology. [They] can't comprehend our oppression because [they] don't live it the way we do."

She asked the crowd to consider that the next case of a murdered or disappeared woman could be anyone's daughter, sister, or aunt. "That is why we need to address this collectively. This is our problem as a whole people."

Sirens wailed.

Author Maggie de Vries told marchers about her sister Sarah who had been murdered in Port Coquitlam at Robert Pickton's pig farm.

"The investigation [into Sarah's disappearance and murder] did not have the full support of the province of British Columbia, of the Vancouver Police or of the RCMP. There was a resistance to admit there was anything wrong," she said.

"My sister was picked up, driven along a direct route: down Hastings Street to Boundary Road to the Lougheed Highway and onto Dominion Road. She was driven through a gate, and she never came out."

De Vries said that in order to keep women safe the public needs an independent inquiry into the investigation of Vancouver's missing women. Currently, 38 cases of women missing from the Downtown Eastside remain unsolved.

Cee Jai Julian described the last time she saw her big sister. It was December 14, 1998, and her sister, who was on her way to work, asked Cee Jai to get off the streets.

"Go home, baby girl."

Ann-Marie Monks read a poem, which she wrote for her best friend who disappeared.

"My sister, my friend. Where are you? What happened to you?"

The drums beat, the people marched. The sun shone. It was Valentine's Day.

Moira Peters is an editor at The Dominion. This article was originally published by the Vancouver Media Co-op.

Pink shirt woman march

crowdmarch

Free Trade or False Logic?

hillarybain — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 10:06:10 +0000

Exploring the Canada-Colombia Free Trade Agreement

On Saturday, June 7, the Canadian government announced that it had wrapped up negotiations with Colombia for a Canada-Colombia Free Trade Agreement (FTA). "The free trade agreement will expand Canada-Colombia trade and investment, and will help solidify ongoing efforts by the government of Colombia to create a more prosperous, equitable and secure democracy," Canada's Minister of Foreign Affairs David Emerson said in a statement following the announcement.

The notion that an FTA between Canada and Colombia would result in increased prosperity for Colombians is based on the much-repeated concept of ‘free trade,’ which, according to the dominant economic model, opens up markets and encourages investment.

“Colombia exports coffee, oil, coal, gold, emeralds and bananas. These are the same kinds of products that Colombia was exporting 100 years ago,” states Mario Valencia, an economist with the Colombian Network in Response to Free Trade (RECALCA). “We import technology and industrial goods, and it is necessary to export more and more primary materials to buy the same amount of technology and machines. This type of exporting scheme is deepened with the signing of free trade agreements.”

When governments and corporations speak about free trade, they are often referring to tariffs, which are per cent taxes charged on products as they are being imported. According to Colombian researcher Héctor Moncayo, "Tariffs are considered 'barriers' to international trade, but these tariffs provide benefits for the importing country: tax revenue and protection for local industries."

Moncayo explains: "Multinational corporations claim that these tariffs are denying them access to international markets and that these tariffs must be eliminated. This is generally what is referred to as 'free trade.'" He goes on to state that there have always been tariffs, and that, "while the oligarchies and governments of weak countries [like Colombia] will drop import tariffs if there is pressure for them to do so, the powerful countries maintain their tariffs."

In Canada, trade barriers on foreign products are designed to protect Canadian industry and agriculture.

Examples of Canadian trade barriers that apply to trade with Colombia include:

- sanitary requirements for seafood, plants, seeds, vegetables and fruit
- special permission for textiles, fowl and dairy
- quotas on coffee
- eight per cent import tax on sugar
- seasonal tariffs on vegetables and fruit

[Data: Colombian Network in Response to Free Trade (RECALCA); Canadian Sugar Institute]

Canada's general tariffs-–ones that could eventually be lifted with an FTA-–are already considered low. And, according to RECALCA, 90.6 per cent of imports to Canada are already tariff-free.

In terms of being able to compete in Canada, an FTA is not expected to open up the market in a significant way for Colombian products. Nor will it address agricultural subsidies that grant Canadian farmers a competitive advantage over their Colombian counterparts.

Agreements on the Rights of Transnational Corporations

If the FTA between Canada and Colombia is not so much about lowering tariffs and improving market access for Colombian exporters, what are the benefits of this kind of agreement, and to which economic sectors will these benefits flow?

According to Colombian economist Héctor Mondragon, "These agreements should be known as 'Agreements on the Rights of Transnational Corporations' instead of as 'Free Trade Agreements.'" Indeed, investment guarantees for Canadian corporations are a key element of the FTA between the two countries.

Canada has recently finished negotiating an FTA with Peru, the texts of which are public, and the deal with Colombia is expected to look similar. According to Foreign Affairs Canada, "An investment chapter in the Canada-Peru FTA locks in market access for Canadian investors in Peru and provides greater stability, transparency and protection for their investments."

This means that Canadian corporations investing in Colombia or Peru stand to further benefit from FTAs, because the agreements remove the possibility that the host government will raise taxes, change its laws, or expropriate properties.

Lobbying by industry in favour of an FTA with Colombia has been intense. In mid-May, the Canadian Chamber of Commerce sent a letter to Lee Richardson, chair of the Standing Committee on International Trade, to “strongly encourage [the] committee to endorse these negotiations and the benefits that they will bring to Canadian companies and to Canadians.” Eight companies signed on in support of the letter, including Barrick Gold Inc., Teck Cominco, Nexen Inc. and Talisman Energy Inc.

Hush, rush and sign

According to a press release issued by RECALCA, the Canada-Colombia FTA negotiations "were extraordinarily fast and unlike the negotiations with the United States, which lasted 16 rounds, they were wrapped up in the fifth round of negotiations, out of the six rounds planned at the outset in July of 2007."

The texts of the Canada-Colombia FTA are still hidden from the public, despite the fact that negotiations have finished. One of the justifications used to push forward free-trade agreements is increasing ‘transparency.’ Instead, unelected Canadian and Colombian bureaucrats negotiated the Canada-Colombia deal in total secrecy. In fact, the end of Canadian negotiations with Colombia was announced before the Standing Committee on International Trade had finished the report it was preparing to advise the government during negotiations.

"By making this announcement only days before the Standing Committee on International Trade report would have been completed, the government is clearly saying that it does not respect the work of parliament," stated Liberal International Trade Critic Navdeep Bains.

The report, meant to "guide negotiations," was released more than two weeks after negotiations were concluded. It contains eight recommendations, of which the second "recommends that the government of Canada maintain close ties with Colombia without signing a free trade agreement."

Free trade on the table this fall

Now that an early election has been called by Stephen Harper, the FTA will be sidelined during election campaigns. Because the agreement is already negotiated, however, once the new government is installed in Canada, the Canada-Colombia FTA may be among the first items to be tabled – presented to MPs – this winter, once Parliament sits again.

Previously, the prime minister had the authority to sign an FTA without discussion in the House of Commons. However, the current process is the result of an election promise by the Harper Conservatives, and "nobody has much experience with this new process or really knows where it leads," says Burnaby-New Westminster MP Peter Julian, the NDP Critic on International Trade.

Once tabled, the FTA will sit before the House for 21 days. Voting will not necessarily take place. In Canada, a vote in parliament is not necessary to ratify the agreement, unlike in the United States, where the Democrat-led congress has thus far 'frozen' the ratification of the US-Colombia Free Trade Agreement partly due to concerns about human rights in Colombia.

Chiquita bananas

Álvaro Uribe

Locked Dumpsters Full of Mangoes

Mon, 04 Dec 2006 14:49:02 +0000

Hungry people, wasted food, and the politics of dumpster diving

Food waste needs to be rethought, reduced and rerouted. photo: Fatty Tuna

Unappeasable customers, bitter bosses and deserted lunch shifts; it is no secret that restaurant work can be soul-crushing. However, the most painful moments in the food industry -- ask anyone who has worked in a café, restaurant, bar or food store -- are moments spent throwing away good food. Those who work in supermarkets, bakeries and delis know that tossing bags of fresh bread and pastries, cases of coffee, trays of uneaten lasagne, chicken and sautéed vegetables into the dumpster out back is part of the daily reality.

Less visible is the more shocking layer of food waste that occurs even before food gets to restaurants and grocery stores. On the outskirts of towns, distributors and wholesalers operate construction dumpsters, which are regularly filled with produce which is riper, fresher, and generally of better quality than what reaches the consumer. This is the fate of the truckload of Ecuadorian mangoes that ripened before making it to the supermarket and the flat of tomatoes from Ontario with a couple of bad fruit; thrown "away" for fear the decay would spread over the whole shipment.

Spencer Mann is sensitive to food waste and food security. He is a founding member of Co-op sur Genereux in Montreal: a housing co-op of 15 members. "These giant dumpsters full of beautiful food are not located near residential areas and are therefore more difficult to access for people who use dumpsters as a source of food," he explains. Part of the solution to the injustices of food waste, says Mann, is to become part of a society that is "okay with waste," but makes that "waste" accessible to those who will make use of it.

Mann's interest in the content of dumpsters is more than cerebral. Dumpsters are the main food source for Mann and the other members of Co-op sur Genereux. "The first time we started consciously dumpster diving," he explains, "was during harvest time, at the Jean Talon market. At first we were buying our produce; then we noticed the vendors throwing away perfectly good tomatoes and eggplants." There is one hour between the market's closing time and the time the truck comes to take away dumpster contents. Mann describes the sense of conviviality among the regular divers at the market -- elderly Italian women, young locals and new immigrant families -- getting "incredible hauls," and the swapping that follows.

Keeping the food industry's "waste" accessible means supporting food redistribution efforts, and also sorting out a clear sense of the politics of dumpster-diving. "It is an art to get to know the rhythm of a dumpster," explains Mann, "to learn when it is filled and when the food is taken to the dump. Part of the etiquette of dumpster-diving is to leave food for people who are regular visitors to that dumpster. There are many families who rely on that food. One strategy is to collect food only just before the truck comes, so you know you are not taking food from someone else's mouth."

Before embarking on an urban scavenging adventure, one must know the rules. Don't rip bags; open them to look through them and then close them again. Be quiet; leave the dumpster cleaner than you found it. Be respectful in conversations with employees, managers and owners. "Eighty-five per cent of these interactions will be positive. Employees of a store tend to know only too well about the food that is being wasted in their store and tend to be supportive of that food being used instead of sent to the dump." Owners and managers, who would prefer that customers pay for food, are less tolerant. That is why it is crucial to respect the rules: you don't want to be responsible for a local dumpster -- upon which 10-15 people might depend for their daily bread -- becoming locked up.

"Sometimes it is unfathomable that things get thrown out." Mann gives the examples of a 30-lb bag of organic Fair Trade sugar, unopened bags of organic figs and sun-dried tomatoes and huge bags of dried chickpeas. Co-op sur Genereux challenged its members to one month of surviving exclusively from dumpsters, and succeeded. However, Mann acknowledges the difference between benefiting from a wasteful system and the need for waste to be rethought, reduced and rerouted.

Distributors can participate in this change by ordering on demand instead of on speculation and by getting involved with local food redistribution organizations that take their 'waste' to food banks and soup kitchens. Local businesses can order responsibly to cut down on overstock. Consumers can demand local food that will not have to survive a trip across a continent and be less picky about blemishes and discoloration that does not impact the taste or nutritional value of the food.

Awareness events, such as Montreal's "Etat d'Urgence," organized by the "urban intervention" group ATSA, seek to encourage people to confront the reality of the waste-stream. Since 1995, ATSA has co-ordinated an annual five-day "urban refugee camp" in downtown Montreal, feeding, clothing and entertaining people of all social stripes. Each year, for the last meal of the event, Co-op sur Genereux has fed more than 200 people on spoils saved from Montreal dumpsters.

Why is good food thrown away?

1. Capitalism allows for a certain margin of waste. Food waste is written into many business plans and makes up a significant portion of food cost and inventory.

2. 'Best before' standards require merchants to toss food that has 'expired.' Restrictive health by-laws, which often prevent restaurants from giving food, turn such food into a liability for the restaurant.

3. Shelf-space has value, in its being a place for product. This means a merchant needs his or her product to be of the highest value possible, or it is not 'worth' the space it takes.

4. If a merchant were to sell blemished food for, let's say, half-price, his clientele would change. He would lose rich clientele who do not want to shop alongside poorer clientele.

5. Branding. A business demands everything that leaves through its doors to be of high quality for the sake of its reputation.

Moira Peters investigates the politics of dumpster diving within a food system that results in hungry people and wasted food.

Weed To The Wise

Thu, 29 Jun 2006 00:41:39 +0000

One gardener's enemy is another's dinner

Recognized in the West as a lawn and garden pest, dandelion is herbalists' top choice for treating liver damage, and is an unparallelled source of vitamin A and natural potassium.

Summers ago, when my brothers and I lived under our parents' green thumbs, our mornings were spent crouched between garden beds of carrots, corn, strawberries and spinach. With our winter survival in mind, my parents worked Cape Breton's mountain soil until neat rows of peas, peppers and Brussels sprouts marched the length of the raised earth beds. We kids, armoured with hats and bug-dope, were instructed to clear away the enemy, to rip and pull the tough invading plants -- weeds! -- from the soil. The garden -- a fantastic quarter-acre of child labour -- sprouted so many weeds! My mother's mention that lambs-quarters were actually delicious greens was lost to her demands that they come out of the asparagus patch – 'every Jesus one of them.'

Little by little, I began to pay attention to the wild plants in the garden -- plants like dandelion and chickweed -- that I had so ruthlessly ripped from the ground when they threatened to overtake the baby lettuce. I slowly discovered magic in the native plants; stubborn and wise, they survive trampled pathways and cling to the edge of my workspace. It makes sense that edible weeds are among the healthiest foods, belonging to the same soil, the same ecosystem, as we do.

One of the most satisfying moments in the garden is wandering through rows of cultivated glory to pick a summer salad for supper. My favourite is a simple mixed-green salad with generous amounts of chopped fresh herbs. Early summer is ideal for throwing them damn weeds into the salad bowl, as they are still tender and at their nutritious peak.

Weed Salad

rip:
arugula
spinach
lettuce
lambs-quarters – just the tender top whorl
chickweed
sorrel - the tiny leaves add a delightful lemon zing - be sure to pick lots

mince:
parsley
mint
basil
dandelion - young plants, roots and all, should be cleaned thoroughly of dirt and minced very finely as this weed has a powerful flavour

sprinkle:
sunny dandelion petals and sweet clover heads

add:
a simple dressing: olive oil, lemon juice, sea salt (be generous – it is important to replenish our salt reserves in the summer, and salt tones down the bitterness of dandelion) & fresh pepper

To be protein-wise, add crumbled hard-boiled egg, or left-over cooked beans and grains. Enjoy!

Moira Peters exchanges her gardening gloves for a pair of salad tongs, finding the pickings for a summer salad in unlikely places.

Portraits of Strength

Thu, 04 May 2006 21:29:21 +0000

The women of Panzós

Women are leading the demand for justice in Panzós. photo of Marlon Garcia Arriaga's painting: Pedro Sousa

Panzós, Guatemala – May 29, 1978. Early morning. Eight hundred people gather in the town square. Their land, homes and crops have been expropriated by the Guatemalan government and given to the International Nickel Company (INCO) in mining concessions.
9 a.m. The mayor of Panzós arrives to address the crowd. He makes a sign and the military, which has the square surrounded, opens fire. 35 people are executed and 40 are injured. Those trying to escape in boats drown in the Polochic River. In total, 53 die.

May 31, 1978.
Headline in leading Guatemalan newspaper: "Mob of two thousand farmers attack military detachment at Panzós."

Montreal – May 18, 2005.
I am sitting in a small, bright room on the fourth floor of edifice Le Belgo. The floor-to-ceiling windows are open and I can hear the traffic on Ste-Catherine Street. The walls bristle with huge portraits, columns of photographs, and typed banners that document a Canadian mining company's implication in the massacre in Panzós, Guatemala in 1978.

Marlon Garcia Arriaga is a short, impeccably dressed young man. His exhibit is titled "Panzós, 25 ans plus tard..." The Guatemalan painter and forensic photographer explains why he has brought his artwork to Montreal.

"When the massacre happened, I was ten years old. At that time, state violence was intimidating, but this was the first time the army was unselective in its slaughter. Men, women and children were shot, clubbed and stabbed without reason. It was all over the papers for weeks. The teachers at my school were very left-wing; they pasted up news articles every day, all over the walls of our hallways.

"When I visited Panzós years later it was to photograph the exhumation of the victims of the 1978 massacre. I visited the town many times, and it occurred to me that I was amassing lots of information, and that I could possibly do something useful with it."

The massacre at Panzós may have been the paradigmatic act of violence in Guatemala's 36-year internal armed conflict, which officially ended in 1996 with the ratification of the Peace Accords. During the war, 200,000 people were killed or disappeared and 1.5 million displaced during a series of military dictatorships. The vast majority of the victims were indigenous subsistence farmers. Central to this time of violence was the control of land, coveted by foreign corporations for resources like bananas, sugar, nickel, and gold.

INCO, a Canadian Corporation that was recently given a failing grade by Report on Business magazine for corporate social responsibility, was the interest being defended when the population of Panzós was mown down by its own soldiers. This message comes through loud and clear in "Panzós, 25 ans plus tard..." and, seeing and reading the evidence in a cheery Montreal gallery, I feel the appropriate shame and outrage at what my people did to Marlon's people. Marlon focusses his lens on a different injustice, however; a more local bifurcation in the story he is compelled to articulate: the exclusion of women from documented history.

Dominating the exposition, 8x8 foot portraits, mostly of young women, glow in mellow orange and pink.

"My education was centred on the European painters of the 17th century. I studied the enormous paintings of Napoleon, for example. This was a way to pay homage to a great man - to do a big painting of him. Of course, I am Guatemalan, and so I prefer yellow and orange and blue to the greys and browns those European painters used." Marlon and I think this is funny.

"Do you know that when authorities or journalists wanted to quote witnesses to what happened in Panzós, they only ever asked men?

"Do you know that when I visited Panzós, I would take rolls and rolls of film? Hundreds of rolls of pictures I took at Panzós. And when they'd be developed, and I'd have the negatives laid out, all I saw were photos of women. Women, women, women, women, women!

"Women have the traditional right to ask compensation for the deaths of their husbands and sons and brothers. It is women who lead the demand for exhumations, reconciliation, and justice."

I turn my attention to the woman standing in the corner of room 312 with her chin in her hand. Her brown skin glows against the yellow tank-top tucked tight at her waist into her long heavy skirt. She stares at a tree's reflection in a lake that ripples where seeds fall into the water. Three crocodiles slide around each other at the edge of the lakeshore, and three hummingbirds break up the green-and-blue painting with their red wings outstretched. Among the crocodiles float tiny reflections: four military helicopters, their red lights flashing. The woman carries an empty bucket.

"A woman named Mama Maquin led the march in Panzós the day of the massacre. She was there with her daughter and grandson and granddaughter. Only the granddaughter survived. This is her..." Marlon points to the painting of a woman with high cheekbones, her black hair piled against the sky. "She is a leader in her community now."

By bringing us closer to the protagonists of his story, Marlon entices Canadians to appreciate and respect the people whose world we share. "Together, our histories make one history, but with two distinct faces. We are two peoples implicated in one genocide, with two distinct images of the opportunity to be human. Making who you are and who we are more visible will continue to be an essential theme of my art."

"Panzós, 25 Years Later...," Marlon's exhibition in English, was displayed at the Sky Dragon Community Development Co-operative in Hamilton, Ontario, April 12-23, 2006. A committee of the Maritimes-Guatemala Breaking the Silence Network hopes to bring "Panzós, 25 Years Later...," and the artist, to the Maritimes later this year.

Moira Peters talks to artist Marlon Garcia Arriaga about his paintings and the women of Panzós, Guatemala that inspire them.

Bean Waiting

Fri, 27 Jan 2006 00:26:20 +0000

In Guatemala black beans are prepared slowly, simply and saltily

Cooking in the dirt floor kitchens of Guatemala photo: Chris Cohoon

My bean-cooking tutor, eighteen-year-old Elida, finds a sunny spot where she crouches to painstakingly sort through the dried legumes, removing cracked, chipped or otherwise imperfect beans, saving them for planting. If included, she explains, they would make the rest of the beans taste bitter. Elida rinses the selected beans and dumps them, along with an outrageous amount of salt and half a minced onion, in a barro (clay) pot filled with water. She boils them over a low fire all day long, adding firewood and water as needed.

Gastronomic heaven can be reached by blending the cooked beans with their own broth and frying them in lots of oil and more onions. Eaten before market Friday mornings on crisp, roasted tortillas with fresh cheese, frijoles colados instantly became my favorite food in Guatemala. I still make them, as an accompaniment to scrambled eggs and toast, as bean dip for parties, or sometimes, with hot corn tortillas and feta cheese, in memory of the Perfect Flavour Combo found only in dirt floor, open-fire kitchens in the Guatemalan highlands.

Central American Black Bean Dip

2 cups dried Black beans
Water
1 large or 2 medium onions, chopped
oil or lard
salt

Soak beans overnight. Drain the liquid and put soaked beans in pot with fresh water to cover. Add 1-2 tsp of salt and bring to a boil. Simmer partially covered until beans are very soft. Fry the onion in a pan with the oil or lard on medium-low heat until onions are soft and translucent. Blend with beans and some of the cooking liquid until the desired consistency is reached. Add salt to taste.

In the dirt floor, open fire kitchens of Guatemala, Moira Peters learns the fine art of cooking black beans.