Editorial

Thousands of people were inconvenienced when Via Rail service was cancelled on June 29, due to threats by some First Nations to blockade a rail line running through disputed land.

The national protest was meant to draw attention to decades of stalled land claim talks, poverty and other issues facing Aboriginal people.

Let's hope it helped create some understanding, too, because that's what non-Aboriginal people need.

That message came through loud and clear in Yellowknifer interviews with march participants and bystanders.

Most non-Aboriginal people don't understand the history that has created the suffering of today.

At first, Aboriginal people were treated as trading partners. Then, as new Canadians arrived in search of work and wealth, Aboriginal people became second-class citizens on their own lands, ruled by governments which gave them no voice.

They were forced into residential schools, punished for using their language and celebrating their culture.

First Nations have to negotiate the rights to their own land.

Even when a land claim is signed, senior governments pick and choose which clauses to follow.

Just ask the Tlicho government, which wasn't properly consulted about new caribou quotas.

Some non-Aboriginal people complain First Nations people get "everything" given to them.

They don't understand the Canadian government is obligated by property laws to finish the job the treaties started - fair compensation for lands lost.

The lack of understanding of Canadians is behind the so far fruitless struggle to get a formal apology from the federal government for past actions. This is despite the fact Ottawa has promised financial compensation for residential school students, and made cash available for Aboriginal veterans poorly treated after fighting in two World Wars.

Why was the federal government so willing to pay compensation and officially apologize to Ukrainian and Japanese interned during the First and Second World Wars?

They did the same for Chinese immigrants charged a "head tax" to enter this country in the first part of the last century.

Is the suffering of Aboriginal Canadians somehow less deserving of acknowledgement? It appears so.

Some people who lash out at First Nations are racist. That's clear.

For the vast majority of people, however, it's an innocent lack of understanding.

So, next time you see a group of Aboriginal people marching down Franklin to the sound of Dene drums, don't get angry they're disrupting your drive home for lunch.

Get busy and educate yourself, deciding with all the facts in front of you whether or not they are deserving of support.

To those who do, we say a big Mahsi Cho.

From a necessity to art

Editorial Comment
Roxanna Thompson
Deh Cho Drum
Thursday, July 05, 2007

When people look into the forests around the Deh Cho it's interesting how their perspectives differ.

For some people the forests look like great swathes of undisturbed land filled with trees, a variety of plants and the occasional animal.

Other people look out and see something that must be protected and conserved for future generations.

Some people see resources that can be used for commerce such as open land, fresh water and timber.

Yet another, and very distinctive group, look at the land and see a craft store.

The statement sounds amusing for a moment until you give it a bit of thought. While a moose can be a wild animal or a walking meat section, it can also be the starting point for clothing. Of course, prior to the arrival of manufactured cloth moose were just that.

One of the best parts of looking at the crafts is remembering that we only consider them to be that because their practical purposes are no longer an everyday necessity. While some people may still consider a pair of moccasins a necessity, there's a wide variety of other options these days to put on your feet to keep them clean and warm. Relieved of the once critical nature of their existence these items are now embellished and turned into something quite different.

Looking at the beauty of many of the items including the intricately beaded moccasins there is no denying that they are now a wearable art form.

Birch bark baskets are from a natural source - namely birch bark trees, but so are the items used to decorate them.

It takes some considerable imagination to look at a live porcupine and imagine how the quills, if gathered and dyed, would make a nice material for accents. The same goes for looking at a moose and wondering what you could do with its hair if it was purple or pink.

The baskets are another example of something with a practical purpose that have been converted to suit another role. The same applies to spruce root baskets.

After gaining an understanding of all the work that goes into making just one of the little baskets it's easy to understand how they are worth the monetary value on their price tags. It also casts new light the lengths that people who needed them to carry water or for cooking had to go to.

Certainly the people who had practical uses for all of these items would be amazed to now see them sitting on people's shelves as works of art.

All of this taken together is a case study in how traditional activities can be kept alive even if it requires some slight changes.

The women and men who produce these crafts should be viewed not only as wonderful artisans but also as living links to the past.

Let's build a kitschy roadside museum

Editorial Comment
Dez Loreen
Inuvik News
Thursday, July 5, 2007

Canada's is known as a rough, majestic and somewhat eccentric place.

This sense of adventure - driving the unpaved Dempster Highway, hearing people's stories about getting stranded on ice roads and seeing bears - is what tourists want to experience.

They come here to see log cabins and traditional culture and houses decorated with antlers.

They want to hear stories about how cold it gets in the winter, and how people used to live off the land.

Why not combine these desires into a roadside museum?

I don't mean a million-dollar Museum of Arctic Civilization, with slick federally-funded displays.

I mean a kitschy, budget "Mad Trapper Roadside Attraction" kind of place, with old pelts and dogsleds, taxidermy and Christmas lights.

Think of a garage sale, only with historical labels on everything.

Inuvik already has the Visitors' Centre, and I think it does an ok job.

However, a visit to the centre doesn't really provide the sense of "Northern adventure" and roughness I am taking about.

To be honest, tourists don't want something slick and well produced.

What they want is a place heated by a wood stove.

Consider the example of the Arctic Chalet, which truly understands what tourists want to see.

With its conspicuous antlers, dog sleds, mining equipment and pelts, the chalet looks more "authentically Northern" than 80 per cent of the town.

Tourists arrive and you can see them express relief.

"Now this is what I came to see," they say.

Another example would be Yellowknife's famous Wildcat Cafe which lacks in surface polish but draws tourists through force of character.

We in the North have the fortune of having tourists who actually want to see inexpensive stuff.

Besides - who could resist paying $5 for a museum, after driving the entire Dempster Highway?

Another reason I think Inuvik needs a roadside museum is to help showcase some artifacts, which already exist around town.

Consider the Inuvialuit Cultural Resource Centre.

There are binders of archival photos - thick volumes filled with early photography of hunters, trappers, people whaling and living traditional lives - which are not often browsed.

The centre also has old arrow cases, fishing hooks, traditional piercings and nets, which would benefit from a little dramatic lighting and hyperbole.

Unfortunately for the ICRC, there is no attempt to market to tourists; no wooden sign that invites drivers to "witness the incredible history and culture of Arctic peoples."

With a few TVs in a dark room, archival jamboree footage from ICS could be useful once again.

During the peak tourist season, the museum could also have demonstrations of tea boiling and traditional skills and country foods.

For example, an artist working on traditional crafts could receive some extra dollars, by merely having tourists watch and ask questions.

I can imagine the road sign now: "Welcome to Inuvik, end of the Dempster Highway. Visit the unique Delta Roadside Museum. Sewing demonstration at 3 p.m. Saturdays. Sample muktuk and have your photo taken in a traditional drum parka, $5."

Kids make great friends

Editorial Comment
Christine Grimard
Kivalliq News
Wednesday, July 4, 2007

I have a problem with being alone.

This is something I've known for the last few years, and I've grown to accept. Not in the emotional, one relationship to another sense. I have no desire to spend time on my own. I'm perfectly happy constantly surrounded by people.

I find being by myself absolutely boring. I think most people would if they gave up today's modern media. Spending my entire day in front of the computer, I do not want to even see one at the end of my day.

I gave up television many years ago when I realized how horribly annoying it is to hear sales pitches on commercials every five minutes.

Other than reading the occasional book or magazine, I have no need to spend time on my own and have kept roommates most of my life for this reason: constant entertainment and company, without the need to host them like you would a guest.

Coming to Rankin Inlet was a bit of a challenge in this respect.

While I've made many friends, and keep myself entertained, it's difficult to find other adults who are willing to spend so much time with you, even if it's just sitting around doing nothing, just to keep each other company.

In all this self-pity, I am coming to a point. Last Sunday I made some new friends to help fill this void. People perfectly happy just to sit around and watch me clean dishes, people I don't have to entertain, and who are constantly amazed by almost everything I do.

Who are these simple souls? Children, of course. For the last two weeks I have found a new following in town, eager to spend every minute of their time with me if they could.

Being all well behaved kids, I'm thrilled with this new kind of company. They visit me sporadically during the day at the office, giving me a nice break from the solitude of my day and even help me out.

The bonus is I just shoo them out whenever I want. Most of my adult friends probably wouldn't react too well if I told them, "Go away, you're annoying me." Children have the common sense not to take it too personally. They usually just ask when they can come back.

With my newfound friends, I'm rediscovering games I haven't thought about for years. Remember the thrill of hide-and-go seek? The dash to the hiding spots during the countdown, and holding your breath as the hunter approaches.

I don't remember tag being so fun either, or for that matter having so many rules. At our game at the neighbourhood playground I discovered the rules: four steps on the ground, you're safe when you're touching yellow, three steps on the bridge and of course, no touch backs.

They do tend to tattle on each other a little more than my adult friends, but at least it's more honest than community gossip.

I think I've learned a lot from my newfound crew of kids: don't take it personally when someone doesn't want to see you; laugh as much as you can, especially at the simple things, any question is appropriate as long as it comes from genuine curiosity, and there are eight good hiding spots in the Kivalliq News office.

- Darrell Greer, the regular editor of the Kivalliq News, returns July 16.

Corrections

An error appeared in Wednesday's edition of Yellowknifer. Scott Willoughby was misidentified in the cutline to a story ("Students head for Nahanni," July 4). Yellowknifer apologizes for any confusion or embarrassment caused by the error.