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Information has surfaced yet again that sterilization equipment at Stanton Territorial Hospital is not working properly, forcing the cancellation of elective surgeries in the city.

That was also the situation six months ago where non-emergency surgeries were called off for nearly 60 days.

On both occasions the information was brought to the public's attention through the complaints of patients and not by the Department of Health and Social Services.

Even under a different minister, this time Michael Miltenberger - former health czar Sandy Lee was not known for being forthcoming - the department still keeps information close to its chest; information that many Yellowknifers and others across the territory would like to know.

Last year, about 30 per cent of all surgeries were considered emergencies, the only type of surgery currently being offered at the hospital. From January to April, more than 200 elective surgeries were cancelled. Numbers for this troubled stretch are still being compiled, and the date for the resumption of all surgeries is still unknown.

The department, to its credit, is attempting to care for as many individuals in serious need as possible and has had technicians come in to diagnose the technical issues with the equipment. The sterilization machines are used for necessary surgeries as well as the general running of the facility.

However, remaining tight-lipped about information until the complaints begin to rumble contaminates the department's reputation and makes it appear that it was attempting to keep the problem under wraps. It's little wonder that strategy angered Great Slave MLA Glen Abernethy, who was caught off guard when one of his constituents informed him the sterilization problem has returned.

Although our health care system is as good as anywhere in the country - and public critiques help ensure that it remains top quality - the department's repeated choice to limit information until its hand is forced only weakens its public image.

Last week's story about songbirds along the Ingraham Trail being "pureed" by a Department of Transportation mower clearing brush is sad, but hardly surprising.

Wherever people live, and thrive, they run up against nature, even here in the vast North.

In this instance it's a case of "us" versus "them" - the safety of people driving on the territory's highways versus the fate of songbird species that have adapted to nesting in the roadside brush.

Naturalist Jamie Bastedo wants the department to push forward its timetable for clearing shrubbery until the chicks can fly.

For its part, the department should be commended for saying it'll try to do just that - examine whether it can postpone clearing work until later in the summer, "without compromising (human) safety." Transportation officials should follow through on that pledge, even though the department was not responsive when the same concern was raised in the past, according to Bastedo.

At the end of the day, what it comes down to - at least until more is known about the birds' behaviour and whether there is any other feasible solution - is human safety taking precedence.

With the Qulliq Energy Corp. (QEC) being under fire again this past week, another plug is needed to stop the latest gusher of bad publicity bursting through the Government of Nunavut (GN) dam.

Although the RCMP investigation concluded QEC president Peter Mackey and/or lines supervisor Grant Penney did nothing wrong at their Iqaluit duplex (Mackey lives on one side and Penney the other), it became the latest case of powerful people becoming just a little too comfortable in their positions.

The RCMP concluded this was simply a case of QEC dropping off used utility poles, as can be availed by any Iqaluit resident, but it still has a poignant aroma.

And that foul smell emanates from the ever-widening gap between regular folks and Nunavut's upper crust of society.

Perception is often more powerful than reality, and it appears time to bring the understanding of those who occupy a Nunavut penthouse down a little closer to where the rest of us live.

We have no problem with the fact whoever received the poles did nothing more, or less, than any citizen has the right to do. The problem is, when you're a corporate head or a government minister, premier, head of a regional Inuit association, a high-ranking-management type, or among the top executives at Nunavut Tunngavik Inc., you're not just like everyone else.

Your actions are on public display and, when you stop caring about that, the arrogance kicks in and trouble is soon to follow.

Although everything was proven to be above-board, as claimed by the QEC and those involved from the onset, a simple public announcement before the poles were delivered would have avoided the whole mess. A little acceptance of not being above public scrutiny combined with a few minutes of effort and you're done. No muss, no fuss, and no police investigation.

The silence from the GN in the early going of this matter (except for a brief release stating they only did what anyone else can do), is simply typical. It's become the standard tack when Northern media have questions about anything other than the latest, and greatest, GN initiative to improve our quality of life.

In fact, it's one of the few truly transparent actions of this government when these types of situations arise:

(A) Stay quiet while others do the work.

(B) Get rid of anyone found guilty (a list stretching from Arviat to Iglulik and points in between since 1999) and act sanctimonious about it all.

(C) If all are exonerated, break the silence and launch a verbal tirade against the unjust accuser.

(D) Carry on as usual with no further thought to perception or accountability.

Our leaders and top corporate executives should realize every month, when they're excited by the latest pay deposit into their bank accounts, they're not just like everyone else.

But those big numbers should also carry a sense of responsibility and dedication, as well as bearing testament to the receiver's intelligence and effectiveness.

When they start feeding egos, I am ruler of all I survey takes root and a little effort in the name of common sense evaporates.

And that's when police investigations begin.

Painful memories stay with a person for a lifetime.

Dealing with those memories can affect a person in many ways, some of which are unhealthy and even self-destructive.

In the case of residential schools, the horrors that caused the unbearable memories for aboriginal people across the North and the nation were beyond their control, inflicted by people of authority and power. Such oppression results in feelings of hopelessness and distrust; it makes it impossible to seek help from a system that embodies those responsible for the abuses.

In 2008, the Canadian government took the first step toward lifting the oppression caused by residential schools. Prime Minister Stephen Harper issued a public apology for Canada's role in the residential school era.

Most importantly, through Harper's statement, the government admitted the arrogance that formed the policies of residential schools and contributed to the horrific treatment of many aboriginal children "was wrong, has caused great harm, and has no place in our country."

Words can be powerful and that step of validating First Nations people in their belief that those in authority were wrong opened the door for the healing process to begin.

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission's mission to collect and record the sad and terrible stories of humiliation, abuse and cultural genocide perpetrated by the people working at residential schools was an essential next step.

Publicly documenting the stories demonstrates our nation's further acknowledgement of its contrition. It is also a promise to give restitution to the generations who were hurt either by residential schools or the legacy of those institutions.

The commission's national event in Inuvik, held June 28 to July 1, was a culmination of its work in the North; thousands of stories were heard leading up to and during the event. Opportunities to re-unite with old friends, meet new ones and share in events helped add some lightheartedness to an otherwise sombre affair.

With the national event concluded, Canada's responsibility to residential school survivors is not anywhere near its end. The national event was not a cure-all, wiping away the pain caused by the residential schools, nor did it restore the cultural degradation and lost parenting skills that came as a result.

Community programs designed to continue the healing process and restore aboriginal culture, language and identity are essential to help undo the damages.

Unfortunately, residential schools have forever scarred the hearts and minds of First Nations people as much as they have scarred the reputation and pride of our nation. Together we must keep working to rebuild trust and restore as much as possible of what Canada stole from its first people.

A poorly marked buoy, an object designed to enhance safety, can actually be a killer.

This was the case when conservation officer Seeglook Akeeagok, 55, died in a boating accident in Iqaluit harbour on Nov. 5, 2010. As darkness fell, the eight-metre aluminum vessel he was riding in slammed into a buoy -- about three metres in length, rusty brown in colour and without a beacon.

"It's a hazard all year round," RCMP Sgt. Jimmy Akavak, who frequently goes boating himself, said shortly after the incident.

Members of Iqaluit's boating community expressed concern about the years of neglect that allowed the buoy to fall into disrepair.

Mooring buoys must have a yellow light and yellow reflective material, according to federal regulations. Why was that not the case for the buoy in question?

Part of the problem lies with having two federal bodies responsible for the water safety markers. Transport Canada looks after private buoy regulations while the Canadian Coast Guard is responsible for federally-regulated buoys.

On the surface, that seems clear-cut enough but there's obviously still some confusion.

The buoy that was involved in Akeeagok's fatal accident has been removed.

While a properly marked buoy may still be needed in that area, at least the hazardous one is gone, no matter who took it away.

Transport Canada said it has taken the lead role in determining who owns the remaining buoys in the harbour.

Really? Neither of the two organizations responsible for monitoring buoys is sure who owns the existing markers?

That's not good.

Furthermore, a Transport Canada official said four of the five buoys remaining in the harbour have been marked with reflective tape.

What about the fifth buoy?

What about lights, which are required by law and would make the floating objects much easier to see?

What about consultation with boaters in Iqaluit? Why haven't officials from Transport Canada and the Canadian Coast Guard held public meetings explaining their roles and what action has been taken since last year's accident?

In the absence of full accountability to the public, the agencies will continue to appear to have dropped the ball and still be scrambling to get their respective houses in order, even several months after the fatal incident that killed Akeeagok.

They must do better than that.

Prince William and Catherine Middleton, the Duchess of Cambridge, received some Northern exposure during the one full day they explored Yellowknife and Blachford Lake. In return, Yellowknife enjoyed some great exposure of its own.

The capital city is no stranger to royal visits. Queen Elizabeth visited the city in 1959, 1970 and 1994 while Prince Charles was here in 1979; but the young, glamorous couple, who graciously shook hundreds of hands on Tuesday, brought a new wave of royal excitement to Yellowknife.

The GNWT estimates the media exposure of the visit is worth at least $1 million in global advertising. That's not surprising. One of the most famous couples in the world stopping at the territory's doorstep during their first tour abroad since their April 29 wedding is bound to grab international attention. It makes for a golden opportunity to market what this city and the broader territory have to offer.

The royal couple, along with a cluster of security and hundreds of accredited journalists toured the city and Blachford Lake Lodge, caught glimpses of drum dancing, the reverent sounds of an opening prayer, glistening lakes, moose hide traditional clothing and colourful beading, handgames, a lighthearted game of street hockey and the welcoming faces of those in the crowds. Seeing the candid shots of the city in media around the globe creates a more favourable impression of Yellowknife for many who, up until this week, did not have our city on their radar.

This occasion put many of us up close and personal with the glamorous royal couple. If we capitalize on their appearance, it will provide more than just memories, it will pay dividends in tourism for years to come.

Getting rid of Yellowknife's trash has quite literally been an uphill battle from the get-go.

Early residents of the city looked to the pond that used to exist where Fritz Theil Park is now located to dump their trash, and when that was full, the garbage went up the hill to the Niven Lake area. It was finally covered in 1993.

The current landfill, nestled above Jackfish Lake and Giant Mine, was opened in 1974 and has served the city well. Unlike the previous locations, it isn't close to homes and businesses, although it's near enough to the airport to make federal transportation authorities worry about the potential for bird strikes.

The city is about to turn another page on its dump history when it opens a new cell at the adjoining rock quarry this summer. The attitude of the city -- and residents in general -- toward garbage disposal has progressed much over the years, and one would expect it will be another long stretch following this latest landfill addition before it's time to find another site for our waste.

Mayor Gord Van Tighem points to city recycling efforts, tipping fees and the GNWT beverage container recovery plan as the main reasons why the current landfill's lifespan has been extended by four years. Residents also deserve credit for buying into these programs, including the three-bag curbside limit on garbage, with minimum fuss.

It's possible residents may be willing to do more, including accepting a lower bag limit of two and paying a higher solid waste levy for curbside recycling, but city council would likely have to do a better job at keeping tax increases to a minimum before residents accept a higher waste levy.

One thing is for sure, it's better to have more land set aside for development and the public's enjoyment than needing ever-expanding space to dump our trash.

In recent years there's been an iceberg lurking at every Dehcho First Nations annual assembly.

Every year the Dehcho Process is nestled somewhere in the schedule. No matter what day it is on, however, it's guaranteed that the process won't stay there. Inevitably close to half, if not more, of the assembly is taken up by the topic.

There is a very good reason for this phenomenon. The Dehcho Process, much like an iceberg, is a huge undertaking and at any given time only a small portion of it is visible. Its true enormity can only be seen once you start in on the topic.

Dehcho First Nations negotiators probably have the clearest vision of the true scope of the process. As engaged participants in the negotiations on the agreement-in-principle, they see both the minutiae of chapters on topics such as migratory bird harvesting, social housing and dispute resolution, just to name a few, as well as the larger scope of the government that is being created and the areas it will have authority over.

The leaders of the First Nations and Metis locals in the Deh Cho are a step further away from the process. Although they give directions to the negotiators through resolutions passed at assemblies, they aren't involved in the daily tasks related to the process. The effect of this even small distance becomes apparent at the annual assemblies. Many of the questions and topics that have been asked before are raised again as leaders try to come to grips with certain aspects of the process as well as its implications as a whole.

The quick run-through of the chapters that are being worked on for the agreement-in-principle that the leaders receive at the assembly really isn't enough to provide them with a solid grasp of everything.

Further still from the process is the rest of the population of the Deh Cho. Most probably know the process is being negotiated but, beyond that, awareness likely ranges from none to middling, depending on the individual. After all, it isn't having a direct effect on anyone yet.

What's ahead is a lot more work and a steep learning curve for many people. The negotiators still have some important topics to cover with the federal government, including land quantum and natural resource management. Possibly within a year and a half, however, the agreement-in-principle will be ready.

At that point it will be in every Deh Cho residents' interest to known as much as possible about what may be signed and what implications it will have. The Deh Cho is at a very important point in its history and only with time, negotiations and the active participation of informed residents will the region's future be forged.

The Truth and Reconciliation national event in Inuvik brought a lot of old memories to residential school survivors.

Some told their stories for the first time, confronted old fears and shame, apologized for the behaviour they may have inflicted on family and friends or even simply remembered events they had locked away for years.

During the event, surrounded by health care workers and other survivors going through the same emotions, it was a safe and healthy environment to bring up the past. Nights were filled with entertainment and crowds, a celebration of the resilience of aboriginal culture and a rejection of past pain. During the days, support workers were ready to offer comfort at the first tear drop.

After revisiting all these emotions, residential school survivors now have to return to their communities, with limited health support. While bigger centres, like Winnipeg and Halifax, may have more support for survivors, there is arguably far less help available in places such as Ulukhaktok and Tsiigehtchic.

While survivors had the courage to tell their stories and face their demons in the safe and comforting environment of the TRC, what will happen when they return home? What happens when they return full of optimism and hope for the future and are met with the same poor conditions they left behind? And how will the strength and pride they gained from the event be met by people who didn't attend? How will the message of the TRC travel to all the small, Northern communities?

The TRC event seemed like a great idea. But now, with survivors on their own once again, it almost seems like a disaster in the making. How will they deal with their issues and move forward on their healing journey without help? Won't raising the issues and then not providing support just send them further backwards? What good is bringing up the past if there's no way to move into the future?

While the TRC is a necessary step for the entire country to take, something needs to be done to ensure the survivors living in remote communities continue to have the care and support they need. The commissioners even commented that with an apology must come action. Prime Minister Stephen Harper's apology came in 2008 and the TRC event represents a step forward. But the action must continue.

Whether it's travelling support workers, video conferencing, team building exercises or monthly awareness campaigns, something more must be done for Northern survivors. They travelled the farthest to attend residential schools, and now the government must go to them to repair the damage. It's only fair.

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