As the annual general assembly held in Fort Smith earlier this month proved, unity proved among the most scare of commodities within the organization.

Rae-Edzo Local 64 came close to pulling out of the Metis Nation at the meeting. Yellowknife Local 66 delegates actually did walk out of what they called a "farcical" assembly.

Former Local 66 members, meanwhile, have formed a new local -- No. 77 -- after becoming frustrated with deteriorating relations between their old local and the Metis Nation of the NWT.

On the one hand, says Gary Bohnet, president of the Metis Nation, "Metis communities in the NWT are miles ahead of those in the South."

On the other, internal relations aren't exactly running smoothly.

"Generally, the Metis work well together," says Bohnet. "My challenge is to work with those groups who do not like my leadership."

Bohnet is referring to the rift that has opened up between North Slave Metis member organizations.

"Some may say that we are too aggressive, but I believe that it is strong leadership," he says.

What Bohnet calls aggressive, others call tyranny.

"It is clear that Gary Bohnet, (Yellowknife Metis Association vice-president) Mike Paulette and (secretary-treasurer of the Metis Nation) Joyce Pittman wish to maintain the corrupt and undemocratic way the Metis Nation is operating," says Bill Enge, president of Local 66.

"They can rig the elections to ensure they continue to be the executive committee of the Metis Nation," he adds.

Confused? So are Metis.

"It baffles me what they are doing. I just don't know too much. I guess I'm getting too old," says Rene Mercredi, a widely-respected Metis elder in Fort Smith.

The 82-year-old member of the Order of the Sash still pays attention to Metis politics, but he says he's often left with more questions than answers.

For example, Bohnet sent a fax to all Metis locals on June 27 stating that membership lists must be submitted to the Metis Nation's Yellowknife headquarters by June 30 in order to prepare delegate counts for the July 10 general assembly in Fort Smith.

A week earlier, however, Enge received a fax from headquarters with all voting delegates already assigned.

Enge and Local 66's problem is that the Metis Nation is being dominated by Fort Smith -- and favoring the South Slave over other regions -- by giving what he says is a disproportionate number of votes to Fort Smith, Hay River and Fort Resolution, which together comprise the South Slave Tribal Council.

Bohnet, Pittman, Paulette and George Kurszewski, who is chief negotiator for the council, all are from or live in Fort Smith.

Gord Villebrun, president of Fort Smith's Metis Local 50, says the reason Fort Smith has more delegates than the North Slave region is "because we are the capital of the North for Metis people."

There are about 1,600 or 1,700 eligible Metis descendants originally from Fort Smith, according to Villebrun.

In fact, Villebrun says, "Mr. Enge himself is a descendant of the Fort Smith region."

Family ties aside, few signs of an end to the infighting emerged from the Fort Smith assembly, and interested observers are making no optimistic predictions.

Jim Antoine, territorial minister responsible for aboriginal affairs, says that, while the South Slave is more advanced in the land claim process -- a framework agreement has already been signed -- the North Slave is still "far away" from beginning negotiations.

Asked by News/North whether the conflict could prove fatal for the Metis movement, Antoine said, "I couldn't say," adding that, "anytime there is an internal conflict within an organization the GNWT will not interfere."

The federal negotiator for the South Slave Tribal Council land claim doesn't want to comment on the political situation.

But Philippe Dore will say that, besides being extremely pragmatic and very capable, the South Slave Tribal Council is "remarkably cohesive".

But from Rene Mercredi's point of view, the Metis Nation seems to be serving little useful purpose these days, and bears little resemblance to what he remembers of Metis life the days of before divisive land claims.

"I was an elder most of my life. There was no politics like this. There was a lot of time to just live," he says.