A lost opportunity to get to know ourselves
Stew Slater, columnist So long; we hardly knew you.
And we hardly got to know ourselves.
When the visitors from northern Ontario arrived, there was a sense throughout the Stonetown that they’d be with us for at least 10 days, or perhaps as long as three weeks. In the two days they actually ended up staying, all that really took place in the brains of many residents was to decide on alternative activities that didn’t involve the Pyramid Centre, and to assess how to react to the deliberate wall that was placed between the two communities.
What went on in our hearts, however, was far more complex.
The predominant feeling was of walking on egg shells. The sentiment “I hope nothing happens” seemed to bubble just under everyone’s breath. Somewhere underneath that, consciously suppressed to prevent them from coming out into the open, were premonitions about the bad things that might happen: shouting matches over the taxation of cigarettes; hateful comments hurled from pickup trucks; unwanted intruders; prejudicial signs in shop windows; drunken brawls; an accidental death.
People spoke in hushed tones – worried that someone might perceive their remarks as racist. If they felt inconvenienced due to lost access to public facilities, or because the majority of the Town’s resources were suddenly redirected away from day-to-day matters, many people prefaced their
complaints with: “I’ve got nothing against those people, but . . .”
It’s unfortunate it had to be this way.
St. Marys residents had a right to feel inconvenienced. Swimming parties had been planned. Weddings were scheduled. A temptation to blame somebody – the Town, the province, the Natives, anybody except Mother Nature – is justifiable.
People were justified in worrying about possible incidents. Maybe there would have been a greater level of comfort if some sociology expert had provided us with iron-clad research stating there’s no effect when over 100 people, without a great deal to occupy their time – people of any race or socioeconomic standing – get dropped into the midst of a town of 6,000. But nobody came up with such research.
(Think what might happen if a good portion of our own community suddenly got airlifted, left all their employment and home-owning responsibilities behind, and dropped into a fenced-off communal sleeping area somewhere far from home. I suspect that a bunch of nurturing-type folks would offer to keep the kids occupied, while another group of adults would strike out in search of a place to kick up their feet with refreshments in hand. And a group of teenagers, meanwhile, would . . . well, who knows what they’d do.
Looking at it from this perspective, perhaps it’s surprising no significant incidents were reported.)
Almost certainly, there were racist undertones to the concerns of some individuals. If anyone felt affected by our town’s acceptance of the evacuees, only they truly know if those feelings were based on racial stereotypes. The unfortunate part is that there were few opportunities to break down those stereotypes, through interaction between the two communities.
One suggestion I heard was that, with the Baseball Hall of Fame bringing in members of the Toronto Blue Jays last weekend for their annual skills clinic, the gates should be thrown open for kids from Kashechewan to attend free of charge. Another suggestion was a welcoming event, with residents from each community attending if they desired.
On the St. Marys side, individual desire for cross-cultural exchange was evident in the willingness of local volunteers to assist with the Red Cross effort. Slide your feet, however, into the shoes of the Kashechewanians, and you might begin to suspect such interaction will never truly happen unless
the situation in their home community changes.
This flood evacuation thing may all be new to us, but it has become old hat for the Natives from the north. In the majority of years this decade, residents of Kashechewan have been airlifted out during the spring thaw.
This year, the Albany River peaked well below disaster level. They could have stayed. But the Ontario government, having suffered terrible public relations setbacks when E. coli contaminated Kashechewan’s water supply in 2005, is extremely reluctant to risk having the community exposed to the types of hardship that would put it in the news again. So the Hercules was
sent in at the first sign of rapid snowmelt.
The residents, as a result of repeated lightning-fast responses from the government, are accustomed to evacuation. One 2008 evacuee, betraying their experience with such “crises,” commented in the media that a hotel would have been preferable to the hundreds of cots in the Community Centre.
Newspaper photos of the Kashechewanians boarding return flights caused concern about where in those small planes the people would sit, due to the presence among carry-on suitcases of so many newly-purchased pillows. For some, the near-annual evacuations are obviously seen as expenses-paid shopping trips.
While we in St. Marys saw this as a once-in-a-generation interaction between our town and the national news, it’s entirely likely our visitors saw it as yet another stretch of nights spent on strange beds in strange surroundings.
The things St. Marys likes to say it offers for our expected guests – something unique among southern Ontario towns – generally didn’t appeal to these unexpected guests. Instead, they came seeking the things that make St. Marys exactly the same as other southern Ontario towns: a cookie-cutter Tim Hortons; a broad selection at the LCBO; cheap consumer goods. It’s possible
some evacuees left disappointed because we don’t offer nearly as many fast food restaurants or big box stores as their own stereotypical idea of a southern Ontario town.
It may, therefore, be too late for us to experience cross-cultural understanding with Kashechewan. But for that potential to be rejuvenated, the federal and provincial governments need to find a way to put Kashechewan on a solid footing, away from the threat of annual flooding, away from the threat of drinking water contamination, and away from the threat that stares down so many Canadian Native communities: economic and social despair.
Then, perhaps a generation from now, when the Albany River truly floods and residents must truly be airlifted – instead of the colossal waste of resources just committed by a government fearful of bad publicity – maybe two proud communities could again be brought together. And maybe in that world, a true cultural exchange could unfold.