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Imagine living in a little tent on the tundra: wind blowing, temperatures dipping into the single digits during the summer night; no running water and no electricity.

This is reality for a few Paulatuk families ordered out of their public housing units over the past month. A family of six literally did make their new residence in a tent.

Another option is to crowd into the private homes of friends or family members, houses that, if they weren't already overcrowded, would be packed to the rafters with the new guests. In winter, is a tent even an option?

These are the choices faced by some families that have, according to the NWT Housing Corporation, already made poor choices by not paying $32 in rent out of several hundred dollars in monthly income assistance.

Instead of paying their rent, they may have splurged on luxuries like peanut butter or bread when they went to the grocery store. They may have purchased some new shirts or pants to replace the threadbare ones their children are wearing. Maybe they spent the rent on cigarettes.

In Paulatuk, 300 people are living in 53 public housing units and only 20 private homes. Close to 60 per cent of the tenants are paying $32 or less in rent each month and about 35 public housing tenants are behind in their rent which adds up to approximately $500,000 in accumulated arrears.

Consequently, the Housing Corp. is cracking down and tossing families out on the street.

But who is this draconian policy serving? Is it making the government's accountants happy? Does it give the bureaucracy some feeling of fiscal comfort?

Whatever purpose it may serve, the eviction policy is surely aggravating the social problems that make other government workers - like health, social and justice department workers - busier.

Northerners don't want public housing tenants to escape any responsibility, but nor do we benefit from a policy that casts a family out onto the street. The mandate of the housing corporation is to give people shelter regardless of their ability to pay.

If the $32 is so critical, why not deduct it from the government cheque many people collect? As well, it's long been argued that the existing rent formula discourages people from working because it's easier to pay $32 per month than 30 per cent of gross income. Is the Housing Corp. brain trust unable to use a carrot and a stick at the same time encouraging employment and collecting reasonable rents?

We need to take a long, hard look at the rental rates and how they are applied.

It's appropriate that the income support program is administered by the Department of Employment, because that's exactly what small communities need to help alleviate the rental arrears problem - more jobs.

There are not many career options in most NWT hamlets.

All of this should be a priority for the next territorial assembly, which will take office in October.

Be sure to ask your MLA candidate what he or she plans to do about public housing and job creation before you go to the ballot box.

There's no doubt David Johnston is the most low-key Governor General Canada has had in a while.

The last two Governors General, Adrienne Clarkson and Michaelle Jean, both came from working in television media and both made big efforts to embrace the north.

When the stylish and plucky Jean ate a bit of raw seal heart at a feast in Rankin Inlet two years ago amid a storm of protest over Canada's support of sealing, she earned a place in the hearts of Nunavummiut. She was welcomed like a rock star in communities for the rest of her trip.

That's a hard act for anyone to follow.

Johnston, 70, is a university professor and was president of the University of Waterloo before his appointment as Governor General. He's been married to his wife Sharon for 45 years and they have five daughters and eight grandchildren. They live on a farm and train horses.

As Governor General, he's the non-partisan human face of the Government of Canada, and in speaking to him, one figuratively has the ear of the nation. His tours bring a little excitement and, more importantly, media attention to the places and people he visits.

Not surprisingly for someone who's been a teacher for four decades, he includes promoting education and research among his key aims for his term in office, along with volunteering and charity, and support for families to create "a smarter, more caring Canada." That he approaches these principles with earnest determination was apparent when he tried to turn down a gift of art from Nunavut Tunngavik Inc. in favour of a donation to charity. To his credit, once he understood the gift was also a way for Nunavut to promote the work of its artists to the rest of Canada, he accepted with grace.

He also tasted every country food presented to him - seal meat was not on offer this time - and he and his wife gave rave reviews to a cake prepared by a student in Repulse Bay.

Aside from being weathered out of Qikiqtarjuaq, a disappointment for the community as this was to have been their first visit by a Governor General, the tour went off without a hitch and good first impressions were made both ways.

Johnston appears to have a genuine desire to learn about the North, as opposed to using it as a promotional tool for his own aggrandisement, like so many other federal politicians. We hope he comes back soon, because we have much more to teach him.

The killing of a young bear that wandered into the city last week has upset some people.

Derek Tremblay, who works at the legislative assembly, was among those to express disappointment that the bear was shot dead instead of tranquilized and placed back in the wild.

The decision to kill an animal should not be taken lightly. Most bears that wander into our city are not persistent pests but are just passing through, and go quietly on their way without requiring intervention other than the clearing of a path.

But when they take a wrong turn and end up downtown, where many people are coming and going, the consequences of not taking action could be even more tragic.

Wildlife officers were tracking the bear, which weighed approximately 64 kilograms, for two hours before finally pulling the trigger on it near the tennis courts around 4 p.m. Such an exciting pursuit always attracts the interest of the general public and some curious people follow and potentially put themselves in harm's way.

As well, with summer vacation in full swing, children often pass the tennis courts area on their way to the Ruth Inch Pool or the nearby playground. Chances cannot be taken with children's lives.

Although this particular bear was not described as acting aggressive, it still had the potential to launch a fatal attack very quickly. Bears are incredibly agile, dangerously strong and faster than most people expect - able to reach up to 45 km/h, which the average person has no chance of outrunning.

Although we sometimes see large animals drop quickly from tranquilizers on TV and on movie screens, wildlife officer Ian Ellesworth said it can sometimes take five to 10 minutes for the sedative to take effect.

It's a shame a wild animal had to die, but the story would have been much worse had a child been maimed while wildlife officials tried to spare the life of the bear.

It's a place for those who are welcome in few other places to grab coffee, sober up, to use the bathroom or protect themselves from the rain; for that alone, Yellowknife's Dene Ko day shelter is inherently a success.

It could be improved upon -- limited by its budget, it lacks professional counselling services that could help its homeless patrons.

This week the shelter returned to operating from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. -- back to normal hours after experimenting with opening from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.

The shelter, funded as a three-year pilot project, serves close to 70 people a day, feeding sometimes 40 at mealtimes. According to one of its patrons, some employers arrive in the early hours of the morning to recruit for casual labour. These factors contribute to the success story.

Yellowknife Chamber of Commerce executive director Tim Doyle has questioned the usefulness of the shelter. He pointed out that downtown violence has not decreased, and in fact spiked in June this year; the exodus of retailers from the downtown core has not abated; and drinking, drug-use and fighting still happen in plain sight, sometimes in front of the shelter itself.

These are the symptoms of huge social issues that must be dealt with, but that responsibility lies not with the day shelter. The facility is exactly what its name suggests - a shelter, a haven for those who would otherwise be on the streets.

There's little doubt that the shelter enriches the lives of the 70 people who stop by every day, and the city would be worse off if it ceased to exist.

There was one comment that particularly stood out when Enbridge representatives participated in a community meeting in Wrigley on Aug. 11.

From the third row of seats, Morris Moses stated that Enbridge should have arrived in the community with a cheque in hand.

With passion and possibly anger audible in his voice, Moses said after years of operating a pipeline in Wrigley's backyard, the company has given the community nothing – not a skating rink, not a pool, nothing.

"You insulted us again by coming here empty handed," said Moses.

It was a statement that deserves consideration and one that First Nations and companies that want to do business in the North and in the Deh Cho will need to consider more and more.

If nothing else, the Enbridge pipeline oil spill is a cautionary lesson. It's showing First Nations that it's imperative that agreements are made before a project or development begins on their traditional land and definitely not put off until something goes wrong.

Many of Pehdzeh Ki First Nation's concerns related to the oil spill could have been dealt with quickly if the band and Enbridge had a pre-existing agreement.

Pehdzeh Ki's current concerns have shown that such an agreement should have precisely laid out how Enbridge would consult with the band in the case of a spill. Clear channels of communication and the community's expectations regarding what consultation means should have been laid out.

The question of what resources the band and its companies could provide in the case of a spill as well as who would have preferences for contracts should have also been nailed down. Finally, expectations about what forms compensation would take, whether it be a monetary payment or other options, should have been discussed.

For Pehdzeh Ki, it's already too late. The spill has happened and the band and Enbridge are struggling to see eye to eye. Even the basic question of what consultation involves, a point that everything else hinges on, hasn't been clearly answered more than three months after the spill.

First Nations and companies alike need to take notes from the hard lessons that Pehdzeh Ki and Enbridge are learning. Development projects will likely become more common in the Deh Cho as companies seek to harvest the region's resources.

By establishing clear agreements before projects begin, both First Nations and companies will benefit and some future conflicts may be avoided.

The Sunchild E-learning program is one of those stories with a happy ending.

It began in 2010 when the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation received funding from the federal government and decided to funnel it toward a program that, in essence, improves literacy levels in its students.

In its first semester in February 2010, not one of its 12 students completed a course.

In its second semester in September 2010, course completion rose to 33 per cent and in its third semester last February, that number rose again to 80 per cent.

Now, not only are students passing their courses, they're excelling.

Candace Morgan, who helps manage the program, said that last semester, the top three students had averages above 85 per cent.

In addition, students are provided with a full-time, on-site mentoring and counselling services for both mental health and career planning, and a tutor is available as well.

Word has spread so fast around town that, for the upcoming semester, they have received 30 applications for the three available spots.

In an interview with News/North, Morgan said enabling students to succeed in class is just part of the puzzle.

"This isn't just about passing, it's about passing and doing well. The potential for them to go on to whatever it is they want as a career is very, very possible," she said.

"I can only see onward and upward with the program."

The fact the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation is taking in dropouts and making stars out of them is tremendous. The fact they will have to turn away at least 27 people in September is tragic. Nearly 8,000 aboriginal people in the territory over the age of 15 do not have a high school diploma, and sunchild has to turn 27 people willing and able to graduate away at the door.

At $600 a pop, Sunchild's online courses don't come cheap, and the IRC has stretched whatever funding it has to the maximum.

The GNWT, federal government, local businesses and anyone else with a stake in promoting education in the North needs to step forward and make it possible for anyone who wants to complete their high school diploma to do so. The IRC has, against all odds, found a recipe for success, and funding shouldn't get in the way of writing more happy endings.

The territorial government is a friends and family hiring club and everybody knows it.

Its affirmative action hiring policy, adopted in 1988, was created with the intent of ensuring Northerners, particularly aboriginal Northerners, are the first in line for jobs with the GNWT. Thus the hiring designations of P1 and P2, respectively, for aboriginal and non-aboriginal residents.

There have been complaints for years that all this system really does is give less deserving job candidates an advantage over those who don't happen to have family and friends working for the GNWT, while doing little to increase the number of aboriginal residents completing high school and post-secondary school.

Of course, with more than 4,000 positions to fill, and competition for workers from the federal, municipal and private sectors, the territorial government can never fill all these jobs. In fact, according to the GNWT's latest affirmative action report in 2005, only 18 per cent of those hired or transferred during the year were affirmative action hires.

So while the territorial government favours Northerners with its affirmative action plan, there are still more jobs than there are Northerners to fill them, or more correctly, skilled Northerners.

William Turner is one such employee hired from down south last year to take on the job of policy adviser with the Business Development and Investment Corporation. He's also, in his short time in the North, managed to secure an appointment to the NWT Human Rights Commission. No doubt, this qualifies him as an aboriginal success story in Canada.

Nonetheless, Turner, a member of the Temagami First Nation band from Ontario, is taking the GNWT to court over its affirmative action policy. He claims it discriminates against Canadians from outside the NWT, particularly aboriginal Canadians, who have "mobility rights" to government jobs in most other jurisdictions in Canada.

Dene National Chief Bill Erasmus appears to agree, but was more focused on the lack of aboriginal residents in government jobs. Aboriginal residents born in our territory make up 51 per cent of the NWT population but account for only 30.4 per cent of GNWT workers, according to the 2005 affirmative action report. Erasmus argues that "our aboriginal people have not been getting the higher-end jobs with the territorial government."

But lost in this argument is the abysmal number of aboriginal students graduating from high school and receiving a post-secondary education. The government's affirmative action report puts the percentage of aboriginal high school grads at 45 per cent - far lower than the 87 per cent reported for non-aboriginal residents. More alarming, in 2004, less than five per cent of aboriginal residents in the NWT possessed a university degree or its equivalent.

In this day and age it's hard to imagine an aboriginal person with a university education being unable to get a good government job, here or anywhere else in Canada. Turner is living proofing of that.

Affirmative action in its entirety is becoming an obsolete institution. Instead, the effort should be focused on raising the level of education and training for aboriginal people. If we can accomplish that, then we'll see more of them in higher management positions with the GNWT and beyond.

Suicide affects everyone. Whether it's someone that's close to you, someone who serves you coffee or someone you don't even know, the needless loss of life is something that's felt by the entire community.

We all know the number of suicides that occur in Nunavut is substantially higher than any other province or territory in Canada. We've read the glaring headlines in the papers down south and everyone has felt the reverberating effects of suicide in their communities.

In Nunavut, ending your own life could be considered a fad. The Nunavut Suicide Prevention Strategy released last year, says, "Nunavummiut have been exposed so directly and repeatedly to suicide that they have come to accept the situation as normal."

But it's not normal.

And last week, four summer students with Kivalliq Counselling and Support Services said enough is enough and organized the Kivalliq Suicide Prevention Walk and Camp in Rankin Inlet.

The turnout of more than 80 people demonstrated that this issue is close to many hearts and is on the minds of many people. And the dozens of youth that signed up for the camp, showed that there is a need for youth programs that provide support and self-esteem building.

KayyLynn Kabluitok, one of the event co-ordinators, said her greatest hope for the camp was that the participants would walk away knowing that life is worth living regardless of the hard times.

She also hoped the youth would gain confidence, a sense of self worth, basic counselling skills and coping skills.

And if nothing else, she hoped they would make friends, so they would know there is always someone there for them.

"Communities are filled with people and our territory is filled with people and our country ... we are there for them," she said.

And to show youth that they're not alone, the summer students started the Yellow Ribbon Campaign. The ribbon signifies that the person wearing it is willing to talk or listen to someone in need of support.

If this campaign takes off, the long-lasting effect it has on Nunavut could be astounding.

The suicide walk and camp opened a dialogue that, with the help of the Yellow Ribbon Campaign, can continue. Maybe it will make the topic of suicide less taboo.

Maybe it will help the healing process for those who have been left behind. And maybe it will make people realize that suicide is not a legitimate option.

We can only wait and see what the lasting effects are, but we can hope and continue to work to put a stop to the needless loss of life.

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