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A call for dignity

Many income-support clients no longer have control over how they can spend the money they receive. For those on assistance, because they can't work, the loss of freedom is asking too much.

Kerry McCluskey
Northern News Services

Iqaluit (Apr 08/02) - Inusiq Shoo's eyesight is failing. Plagued by severe cataracts in both eyes, the Iqaluit resident is waiting to travel to Ottawa for corrective eye surgery. He hopes the operations will stop the bouts he has with blurred vision and sudden, momentary blindness.

He also hopes improved eyesight will allow him to return to the workforce. He says he'd like be able to hold down a job right now, but the trouble with his vision makes it tough to work.

That means Shoo relies on income-support payments for food, shelter and clothing. Already humbled by the experience, Shoo said recent changes to the way the government issues cheques make him feel even more dependent.

"It used to be a lot better. Now it's even worse," said Shoo. "It makes me feel totally different. Before I used to run around and go from store to store and when I'd find what I need, I'd buy it. I can't do that anymore."

Shoo is referring to changes the government of Nunavut made to the way it hands out income-support payments in Iqaluit.

Until December 2001, the majority of assistance cheques were made payable to the recipients, who cashed them and spent the money where they saw fit.

But now the cheques are made out to various stores in the city and clients are required to spend the money there.

"It definitely hurts my feelings," Shoo said.

Exercising the limited choice he now has, Shoo spends his money at Arctic Ventures. He buys his food and, if he has any money left over, he buys small things to make his apartment smell better and feel more comfortable.

Shoo said he figures the government made the changes because some people abuse the system and spend their income support on drinking, drugs and gambling. But he says he isn't one of those people -- he is physically unable to work -- and he doesn't understand why they just went and made the changes without explaining to clients what they were doing.

"There was no explaining. Nothing. People are talking about it and they don't like it," said Shoo.

No explanations offered

Another Iqaluit resident, who asked not to have her name published because she is afraid she would be fired for speaking out, said the changes create undue hardship for her family.

The woman has an adult son who is mentally incapable of holding down a regular job. He does odd jobs around the city, but, like Shoo, relies on income support for food and shelter.

He could earn more money, but income-support will reduce the payments he counts on if he brings in more than $150 each month.

Her son is incapable of safely cooking his own meals and while he lives away from the family home, he eats with his family. She used to buy his share of food with his $253 bimonthly cheques, but since the government now makes them out to NorthMart -- she says her son was not given a choice of stores -- she shoulders the financial burden.

She said she disagrees with local food prices and shops online in Southern stores, refusing to cash the cheques. As they pile up at home on the bulletin board in her kitchen, she struggles to find ways to buy enough food to feed her family of six. They've approached the government to discuss the issue, but income-support officials won't speak to them.

"We've had the door slammed in our face," she said.

"This is horrible. There's a system we can't discuss. There was no warning, no letter of any kind."

"I feel alone."

Sandy Teiman, the director of income support in Nunavut, said the recent changes are not meant to punish anyone. She said an increase in Iqaluit's client load, combined with a drive to push people to understand income support is supposed to be a temporary program, triggered an assessment of the program.

She said each client would continue to be assessed individually and if they show they are trying to become more productive by working or getting training or education, their income-support situation could change.

"If there's a situation where someone can't handle their money or comes back for emergency assistance a lot, red flags go up," said Teiman.

"If you're going to meet us halfway, we'll do everything we can."

Teiman did, however, agree that the changes -- affecting some 30 per cent of Iqaluit clients -- undermine the self-esteem of recipients.

"I do (think it takes away dignity), but the government is in the situation that if we give you the cash for your power and housing and you don't pay it, we've already paid it once and can't pay it again," said Teiman.

"It's not meant to penalize anybody," she said.

The reality of income support

- Support payments to Nunavummiut for fiscal 2001 totalled nearly $21.6 million

- Income-support workers handle 3,100 cases each month, or about 8,000 people

- Caseloads vary during the year with 2,700 in the summer and up to 3,300 in winter

- Monthly income-support expenditures range from $1.75 million to almost $2 million

- In a period of one year, 5,500 households are assessed for income support -- nearly 14,000 people each year receive or seek income support

- Since 1995, the proportion of clients reporting a source of income has doubled to nearly 60 per cent

- Over half of Nunavut's hamlets are contracted by the Government of Nunavut to deliver the income-support program

- Of the benefits paid, 80 per cent is determined by a food need; 10 per cent by accommodation, fuel and utilities needs; and seven per cent by clothing needs

- The food scale is currently under review as part of the review of the Income Support Policy Review. Results are expected in the next few months

Source: Nunavut government