Lynn Lau
Northern News Services

Old Crow, Yukon (July 15/02) - Aboriginal people travelling across their traditional territory are finding they are not exempt from the increased security at the Canada-U.S. border.

At the Gwich'in Gathering in Old Crow, a biennial meeting of Gwich'in from across the North, close to 100 Alaskan Gwich'in faced background checks and searches when they arrived.

Others were turned away before they got on the plane, and at least four were barred entry and forced to return home.

Artie Adams, a 63-year-old retired postmaster from Beaver, Alaska, says he had to pay a $450 fine because his band office had given border officials an incorrect birth date.

The date the customs officer had for him didn't match his ID cards, so he was told he'd have to spend the night in jail and return home.

He says the officer then had a change of heart and decided to fine him instead, for having tried to enter the country "under false pretenses."

"If I didn't have a credit card, they would have shipped me back," Adams says. "I was just glad I didn't have to spend the night in lock-up."

Adams was one of many Alaskans at the Gwich'in Gathering who spoke of problems crossing into Canada. Old Crow, a community of 300 on the Porcupine River, is a liquor restricted community, but no one here can remember so much security at the tiny airport or river dock.

The local three-person RCMP detachment was bolstered by three additional officers from Whitehorse for the duration of the seven-day

gathering.

On July 7, the day most of 400 out-of-town visitors were arriving by plane or boat, three customs officers and one immigration officer from Whitehorse were in town to question travellers and search bags.

Feeling like an outlaw

Jonathan Soloman Jr., a 39-year-old from Fort Yukon, Alaska, says his people usually just register with the RCMP office when they cross the border to hunt or visit relatives. But last week, when he arrived in Old Crow by boat, he was greeted by a patrol boat and half-a-dozen uniformed officers.

He says his boat was searched and his rifles were confiscated. Because he had a trespassing conviction back in 1984, he was forced to pay $200 for an entry permit.

Soloman says he can't understand why something that was cleared years ago would cause problems for him now.

"We're here to visit family and visit my grandma's grave and you have to pay to do that? They settled here and then Canada took over. Now they make us pay. They made us feel like outlaws."

According to paperwork he was given, people who have had no convictions for the past five years can apply to have their record cleared through a Canadian consulate in the U.S., but the processing fee is $200 or $1,000, depending on the type of conviction. He says he doesn't want to come back after the way he was treated. "I don't trust the Canadian government," he says.

Floris Johnson, a resident of Louisiana who made the boat trip from Fort Yukon to Old Crow, says she was held up for more than an hour as officers went through her boat. "They went through everything of mine. One was questioning us, 'Have you ever drunk alcohol or do you drink alcohol?' What does that have to do with national security?"

RCMP Cpl. Paul Brown, head of the Old Crow detachment, says the new tighter border controls apply to everyone.

"People now need proper identification, and it goes the other way too, for Canadians crossing into the U.S. The world is a different place since 9-11. The borders have tightened up and the North is not exempt from that."

For people accustomed to travelling freely across their traditional lands, the new regulations are tough to swallow.

Bertha Fields Underwood, a 64-year-old from Wasilla, Alaska, says she was incensed to see her people turned away from Canada for old crimes.

"Those things shouldn't be held against them because a lot of these people had drinking problems before, and now it's all taken care of. We all have a lot of relatives here. It's like we're being booted out of our own bloodline village."