Jennifer McPhee
Northern News Services
But he's not ruling out the possibility of moving back to Iqaluit, the place the Anglican minister considers home.
The city of Iqaluit recently made Mike Ferris the "honourary Toonik," recognizing his many years of service to the community. - Jennifer McPhee/NNSL photo |
News/North: You're moving to London, Ont? Are you originally from Ontario?
Mike Ferris: From London, yes.
N/N: How long did you live here?
MF: About 23 and a half years. This has become our home. It was initially our hope to retire and stay here, but our daughter and grand-daughters are moving south. It's been very hard not to see them on a regular basis. My mother is getting on and my wife's dad is still alive and he's had heart surgery. Her stepmom is getting on. So we thought it was time to go spend time with them. That's why we're not ruling out coming back.
N/N: How long were you a minister (with the Anglican Church) here?
MF: I've been involved in the church here for 20 years. I was involved down South for about 10 years. I've been a fully ordained minister for four years.
N/N: How did you develop your faith?
MF: I started going to Sunday school at a young age. My grandmother was a major role model for me. My grandfather had died but he was involved in the church. And I had some family members who were ministers. I had another good family friend, the bishop who confirmed me, who always told me my calling should be the ministry. It took me a while to accept the ordination.
The more Bible studies we did the more we talked, and the more convinced I was that the Bible held the good news that Jesus was sent to save our sins and that he died for us. Over the years, the whole aspect of my Christian belief strengthened. I'm quite comfortable now defending that, talking about it and sharing it with others.
N/N: You worked in the government?
MF: I just finished as deputy minister of Community Government and Transportation. When I originally came North I worked as senior hamlet affairs officer for the Department of Local Government.
I would talk and work with organized settlements and develop the council and the staff and help them with developing their first set of bylaws to move towards incorporated status. I've had many jobs in the local government or in municipal community affairs. In 1982, I was asked by the regional director here to do some developmental work on emergency measures. That's when the first civil Emergency Measures Act came into being in the territories. I developed the first regional emergency plan in the country.
N/N: What was the first regional emergency plan like?
MF: It was looking at taking the basic components -- the RCMP, the nursing station, the hamlet, and key territorial government people -- and developing a co-ordinated team approach to dealing with peacetime emergencies.
The maximum amount of resources in isolated communities was pooled to come together and address the emergency. Up until that point, people were operating independently.
The territorial and local plans were, what I would call, co-ordinating plans. For example, our plan didn't tell the nurse how to treat patients in the nursing station. But we made sure that if the nurse was dealing with a major medical emergency, other people within the community would come together to help.
N/N: When you think about your 23 years here, do you consider that your major accomplishment?
MF: It did become the model right across Nunavut. But it wasn't just me. A lot of good people worked on the project. Little aspects came to light. We found that when dealing with emergencies where deaths occurred we had no system in place to provide support to with first responders. So we developed a critical incident stress debriefing program.
We've expanded that. Now if there are two or three suicides back to back and the coroner needs someone to talk to, that team is in place. That's one offshoot.
We found communication was a problem. So over the years, we concentrated on improving communication so that all regional headquarters are wired for emergency peacetime responses. They've got long range radios, satellite phones, pager systems. Over the years, we started with a simple plan, now we're filling in some of the gaps.
We've also worked on developing a new search and rescue training manual that has a great deal of Inuit traditional knowledge on search and rescue built into it.
N/N: How were you involved in search and rescue?
MF: I've been involved from the earliest aspects, actually going out with search teams on the land.
Years ago, the RCMP had a policy that they wait 24 to 48 hours to search for any missing persons. Up here, we were losing young people at a fairly high rate because of that and one of them was my son. When my wife called the RCMP to report my son hadn't come home and was missing, the RCMP said they would wait 24 hours. Well, two youth died in that storm and two fortunately were rescued.
N/N: When was that?
MF: That was in 1986. As a result of that, the mayor said that would never happen again. He said let's put a committee together. Out of that came a government policy which recognized what is now known as a community search. Public searches are the mandate of the RCMP to conduct. Community searches are conducted by the local council. So if the local council and the mayor's committee (in discussing with the family and the hunters who know the conditions) decide that a search is required, then it begins as a community search.
Then (later) it becomes a public search.
We've still lost some lives, which is going to happen just because of the remoteness of the terrain, but we've saved some lives as well because of that ability to respond quicker. The policy for most places now is that if young people are involved the search is immediate and they go all out.
N/N: Was your son quite young?
MF: He was 15. And they had just gone less than 10 miles out of town to look at some iglus and a sudden storm came up.
N/N: How have you seen Iqaluit change over the years?
MF:It's changed substantially. When we first came, you never had to lock your doors. You could leave all your hunting gear in your boat. You never left your rifles, but you didn't chain your Ski-Doo. I don't think what's happened is a sign of things being bad. I just think we've grown so big. Iqaluit was so small when we came, it was a small community. You can still go into small communities and find the doors open. The growth here is the most noticeable change.
When we came, there were a few Bell Canada trucks, RCMP trucks and the government had five or six vehicles. There were a half a dozen taxis. The rest were Ski-Doos and people walked.
In the store, you could expect very little fresh produce, bread was a little dry and stale to begin with. You got accustomed to it. There have been big changes in the stores. A lot of it is because of the growth.
My wife and I talk about this quite often -- there are so many new faces. It's hard to know who is just visiting and who is actually living here. That comes with the fact that Iqaluit is growing and will continue to grow.
N/N: Will you come back and visit?
MF: Yes, I will want to come back and visit.
N/N: What will you miss the most?
MF: Our friends. We've been here almost 24 years and only went back to London for a couple weeks a year for holidays. All the people we've come to know are here.
So we're going back to London, and even though it's home, we're almost starting all over again. I'm going to miss the stability of this being home. I'm going to miss this house because I built it myself. But I think it's just the love and friendship. I have wonderful memories.
When our son died, the mayor and council from Kimmirut came across as a whole group. The search went on for about a week. People always at your door, coming to visit, bringing you food. Some of that happens in the south, but not to the extent it happens up here.
That sharing and caring that goes on with Inuit is a tradition that I hope never gets lost up here. We really felt good about knowing it, understanding it and being able to share ourselves with others. That's the type of thing I'm going to definitely miss.