News/North

PORTFOLIO: Keith Peterson's long shadow

Nunavut News/North
Published Monday, June 25, 2018

THE ISSUE: QUASSA OUSTED
WE SAY: HE DIDN'T HAVE A CHANCE

Judging by the looks on the faces of those who voted to oust Premier Paul Quassa, they knew this was no mercy killing. It was murder and they were guilty as hell.

Except for one. Joe Savikataaq had a smile to light up the room and he flashed it when he voted for himself and it stayed for the rest of the day. He continues to do so.

You would, too, if you spent the last seven months in purgatory.

This is a man who wanted – and many expected – to win the premiership in November. With Peter Taptuna's retirement, it was Savikataaq's turn to take the stage.

But, with a new cast of MLAs, anything is possible and the unexpected happened. They supported the elder statesman, Paul Quassa, who won despite the tarnish of supporting at all costs the unpopular Education Bill 37.

Quassa's election was a chance for a man who helped negotiate the creation of Nunavut to provide his vision for the future of the territory. He promised to bring more Inuit into government and to strengthen Inuktitut.

Non-Inuit deputy ministers and their minions started to worry about their positions and with good reason. Within days, top bureaucrat Chris D'Arcy was out the door, as were several non-Inuit deputy ministers.

Add to that Quassa's plan to make the remaining senior bureaucrats learn Inuktitut – God forbid they try – and they were left wishing Keith Peterson was running the show again.

And this was probably Quassa's biggest mistake: underestimating Peterson's long shadow in Nunavut's government.

Finance Minister David Akeeagok's bombshell that Peterson had left a $39 million deficit for 2017-18, not the $2 million surplus predicted, was a massive blemish on Peterson's legacy as a responsible manager of the public purse. Then the government pulled out of Grays Bay, the Kitikmeot project Peterson and Taptuna backed.

Soon after, Quassa's inner circle started to turn on him. He was in trouble well before Thursday's vote.

The MLAs spoke of autocratic rule, of a man who didn't fulfil his promises despite the fact he had barely been given a chance to do so.

But, then they said nothing in particular triggered the vote. That Nunavummiut wouldn't understand.

They latched on to the Northern Lights trade show and his decision to take an entourage of ministers and bureaucrats to the nation's capital at a cost of $572,000. Yet no one brought up the $29-million deficit projected for this year.

The MLAs hammered into the ministers about being pressured to join the Northern Lights trip. "Were you directed to go...?" Their own jobs at risk, suddenly all but one of the ministers were ready to vote Quassa out.

They had no choice. That's politics.

It's nothing personal, the MLAs all kept saying.

It seemed so clean, but it's getting messy.

Because when your first move as premier is to fire former premier Paul Okalik as devolution negotiator before he can collect his first paycheque, you need to worry about the fallout with NTI, where his wife is president.

And when Quassa's newly-hired Inuk press secretary also gets the boot, you have to wonder about the new leader's views on Inuit employment.

Quassa may not have been the right man for the job, but his compass was pointing in the right direction.

Hopefully his replacement will stop looking to the shadows and find a path we can all follow.

PORTFOLIO: Kill the bill, save the culture

[1st - Best Local Editorial - Canadian Community Newspapers Association]
Nunavut News/North
Published Monday, June 5, 2017

Education Minister Paul Quassa - a well-respected leader and negotiator of the Nunavut Land Claims Agreement - appears intent on throwing his reputation out the window for all the wrong reasons.

His fight to push through Bill 37, which will cancel any targets to have Nunavut's high school students speaking Inuktitut upon graduation, is opposed in the legislative assembly and in many other quarters.

As of press time, it appeared to be dead legislation walking, as bills need two sittings of the legislature and three readings to pass. The funeral can't come soon enough.

It's hard to understand how the Department of Education let it come this far.

It's even harder to understand why Quassa is staking his career on this bill. As the clock runs down on this legislative assembly, Quassa must be considering his future after the October election.

Even if his constituents support him, it's doubtful that his current stance on Bill 37 will lead him to the premiership - he was up against Premier Peter Taptuna for the job in 2013 - or even to a ministerial appointment under any premier other than perhaps Taptuna, should his premiership survive the election.

We say that because Taptuna is complicit in this debacle, and the worldview of both leaders - who are showing their disdain for language and culture preservation in their support of this bill - may come back to haunt them when voters cast their ballots in October.

Quassa is pushing the passage of the Bill 37, he says, to protect the government from a lawsuit by Nunavut Tunngavik Inc. He says his history shows he is committed to the preservation of Inuktitut but if that's the case, why is he pushing this solely to avoid a lawsuit?

It's a pretty stinky argument. Surely he meant to say, "It's the right plan for our children."

As it is, Bill 37 is just as likely to trigger a lawsuit from NTI, as breaking Inuktitut language commitments to Nunavut's children is already cause for inflamed spirits. This government has had four years to present a serious plan to make Inuktitut the first language of Nunavut's schoolchildren but waited until practically the last minute to present a very flawed bill to the legislative assembly.

Minister Quassa, there's only one path you can take to save yourself.

Withdraw the bill and disavow the idea.

Step back into your negotiator shoes. Bring NTI, MLAs, and educators to the table. Discuss a path forward together. Do it in the open. Invite Nunavummiut and journalists to monitor the proceedings. Broadcast it live across Nunavut.

If there is a viable plan, it will come out.

If not, at least the territory can say its leaders tried to work out a solution together, in the open, instead of besieged behind closed doors.

PORTFOLIO: Solutions won't be easy to find

Feeding Nunavut series, part 3 of 3

[1st place, Best News/Feature Series - Ontario Community Newspapers Association]
Northern News Services
Published Monday, July 23, 2012

There is no quick fix for food insecurity in Nunavut, but those involved in the discussion suggest there are short- and long-term solutions to ease the problem.

"Food security is a large, complex problem," said Ed McKenna, director of Nunavut's anti-poverty secretariat.

"The answer does not present itself to you in some flash of inspiration. It's going to take the involvement of a lot of different organizations and agencies, including government, Inuit organizations, the retailers, public interest groups and NGOs."

The anti-poverty secretariat moderated the first meeting of the Nunavut Food Security Coalition June 26, a chance for concerned parties to brainstorm solutions to one of Nunavut's biggest concerns.

The Feeding My Family group, which has a strong following on Facebook, took part in the session. For spokesperson Eric Joamie, the transition from Food Mail to the Nutrition North Canada food subsidy program is one of the problems.

"It's only working for the big companies that are providing service in the North," Joamie said. "People that were using (Food Mail) were happy with it. They were able to work with Canada Post in bringing fresh produce and whatnot, and with the new program (Nutrition North), it's not working for the people."

Former Food Mail manager Fred Hill agrees. He said the government he used to represent should have stuck with subsidizing Canada Post, which he argues allowed everyone in Nunavut to pay the same price for food regardless of community. The shift has reduced the transparency of retailer's shipping costs, and how subsidy rates are set.

"We don't know how retailers costs compare now with what they were under the Food Mail program, frankly," Hill said, adding that larger retailers get an unfair advantage because of their buying power compared to smaller stores.

He also noted that Food Mail's flat rate shipping subsidy system – at one point the cost was $0.80 per kilogram – was transparent.

"Our subsidy represented the difference between Canada Post's costs and its revenues. Now the department has to come up with these subsidy rates for different categories of food in each community on its own. Not by going out to the market, but by some other means that hasn't been fully disclosed."

North West Company executive vice-president Michael McMullen argues that his company can get a better deal for shipping under Nutrition North than it could under Food Mail, and that food is cheaper now than it was before the program started in April 2011. For McMullen, there are other problems that are on his agenda to address.

"How do we get a solution for country food that makes it affordable across the North and more accessible at a lower price?" McMullen asked. "We can only transport and sell (country food) that's from a federally inspected plant. Any changes to that we'd support in a second."

Another priority should be "getting more people gainfully employed," he said, noting North West Company is Nunavut's largest private employer of Inuit.

An education in eating Meanwhile, how to budget and prepare healthy foods is the type of education the Government of Nunavut's territorial nutritionist Jennifer Wakegijig is aiming to deliver.

"It's the human condition to like sweet things, fatty things, and salty things. We were hardwired that way for human survival," Wakegijig said. "But now we have stores full of foods like that. If we think of food as nourishing ourselves and our families, and helping us stay healthy, by doing things like cooking from scratch or buying in bulk, we can save money and help our money go further."

Her office is working on several projects to teach Nunavummiut how to cook from scratch, a tradition in Western society, but not among Inuit. "Inuit know what to do with country food. They don't need me to tell them what to do with that," she said, adding that's not always the case for storebought food. "We're promoting cooking classes, in-store taste tests, and meal bags where you can reach people who are not motivated to come to a cooking class."

She says it doesn't take much to make the change, but people need to know where to start.

"If we can encourage people to make other choices, make water your main drink, choose less-processed foods, if we can help increase people's knowledge about preparing food, it may help people get better value for the food that's available at the store," she said.

Ilisaqsivik Family Resource Centre works every day � through breakfast, prenatal nutrition, and cooking programs – to deliver the skills needed to improve nutrition for Clyde River residents. Executive director Jakob Gearheard says the government's focus on education is a good step.

"There's been so quick a transition from country food to store-bought food in just a couple generations that people haven't caught up with what all these foods are and how you cook them," Gearheard said, arguing the government also needs to pressure retailers to replace unhealthy food with healthy food on store shelves in small communities.

Finding the balance

But Hill said education must follow affordability as a priority.

"The biggest cause of the food insecurity problem is the cost of healthy food compared to people's ability to purchase it, rather than a lack of knowledge about the food," Hill said.

"Certainly it would be good to have people better educated in matters of nutrition, and I'm pleased to see that happening. But I've heard people say, I don't need five more recipes for delicious and nutritious chicken. I need the chicken."

The inability to access food is a real problem, McKenna says.

"The high cost of living in Nunavut is a real burden for a high proportion of our population. That's why it's a major social issue," he said, noting more than half of the population relies on social assistance at some point each year.

The level of poverty means Nunavummiut are very sensitive to price, and he'd like to see more transparency in the system.

"That information about why things cost what they do here has got to be made available publicly. Right now, I don't think any of us has that information in a complete form.

Having that information and coming together, I think we can make some progress."

On the territorial level, the Government of Nunavut is taking action. In the 2011-12 fiscal year, it invested in the feeding programs at places like the Ilisaqsivik Family Resource Centre.

It has also identified eight goals: increase access to and use of country food locally; explore commercialization of country food; promote informal country food networks; support young hunters; target childhood feeding practices; promote community nutrition interventions; improve food affordability; and protect country food species.

There's a lot of work to help food security spread across the territory, and a lot of obstacles. But for the government, it's a start.

PORTFOLIO: Little progress in decades

Feeding Nunavut series, part 2 of 3

[1st place, Best News/Feature Series - Ontario Community Newspapers Association]
Northern News Services
Published Monday, July 16, 2012

Nunavut homes are overcrowded, food insecurity is high, jobs are scarce, and young people are turning to suicide.

Sounds familiar, but this is the way young Frobisher Bay residents creating a report for Maliiganik Tukisiiniakvik described life here in the 1970s. For Joshie Teemotee Mitsima, who helped create the report as a summer student in 1979, little has changed.

"If you're a young Inuk in one of the communities that didn't get the government centres, you're still stuck in Frobisher Bay in the '70s," Mitsima said. "Maybe 10 people got the jobs out of a community of 300 or 400. The rest have to grapple with welfare. Eighty per cent of Nunavut, outside of the bigger centres, probably relies on welfare still."

The Katitseeyeet report was a lightly-disseminated investigation of life in Frobisher Bay funded by the federal Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development. Mitsima's brother Jamesie Teemotee, for many years the executive director of Maliiganik, and a team of 10 used the funding to try to understand what causes suicide, which was 50 times the national average at the time.

"We knew the young people, they were our friends, relatives, our peers. We wanted to find out why they were committing suicide. Maybe the real reason is that it's very hard to live in the North," Mitsima said.

"If you were on welfare, it was difficult because like today, our houses were very crowded," he said. "If you got welfare, you'd have to feed the whole household. Your food would go very quickly if you were on welfare, just like today. Even the people who are working today are struggling with food, almost the same way the people were struggling then when they were on welfare."

Contrary to public perception, prices have actually gone down since 1973, but a large gap remains between the North and southern Canada.

The report's authors, using figures from Frobisher Bay, recorded the 1973 and 1979 costs of bread, milk, butter, potatoes, ground beef, sugar and wieners, and the cost of a meal that included hot beef, soup and coffee at the Continental restaurant. Included in the report is a 1973 Continental take-out menu, which Nunavut News/North has compared with a 2012 Navigator Inn menu.

When adjusted for inflation, a comparison of prices in 2012 to the 1973 prices (in 2012 dollars) recorded in the Katitseeyeet report shows four staples - bread, milk, hotdogs, and potatoes - have actually gotten cheaper over the years.

Milk saw the biggest decrease at 52 per cent, hotdogs went down by 31 per cent, potatoes by 22 per cent, and bread by 15 per cent. The cost of ground beef went up 17 per cent from 1973 to 1979, but today's price is the same as in 1979. The cost of butter has gone up dramatically, 48 per cent since 1973.

While prices have gone down for some of these staples, any savings pale in comparison to what could be saved if one shopped in Ottawa. The gap between Nunavut's capital and the nation's capital has narrowed since 1979 - adjusted for inflation, Ottawa prices have jumped dramatically since then - but there's still a large gap.

Only bread and milk are within 20 per cent of what Ottawa residents pay; butter costs 30 per cent more, hotdogs cost 52 per cent more, ground beef costs double, and potatoes at Iqaluit NorthMart are almost triple the price at an Ottawa Metro store.

Although the prices for some grocery staples have gone down in Iqaluit, restaurant prices (again, adjusted for inflation) have gone up dramatically since 1973. A cup of coffee went up 52 per cent, and ordering a hot beef sandwich or fish and chips costs 55 per cent more today. But the cost of a hotdog at the Navigator is more than double what it would cost at the Continental in 1973, and the soup of the day more than tripled.

Except for a cup of coffee, everything else we compared is more expensive today in Iqaluit than at the popular Zak's Diner in Ottawa's Byward Market.

Mitsima believes that if Nunavut wants to solve its food security problems, it needs to stop relying on southern solutions for a Northern problem. He criticized the approach of stocking fridges across the territory with perishable fruits and vegetables, the products subsidized under Nutrition North.

"That's a southern virtue," he said. "By the time you get an apple to Grise Fiord, it's rotten. But when you're from Toronto and you come North and you see these Inuit in poor health and suffering, you want to give them vitamins and nutrition. We're imposing southern values still, just like back there (in the '70s)."

A move away from southern values might do the territory some good. A 2007 McGill University study of 50 Iglulik residents found that those who hunt regularly were almost all, at 86 per cent, considered food secure.

"Those who regularly hunt were also significantly less likely to have to cut or skip meals due to lack of food, eat less, or not eat for a whole day compared to non-regular hunters," study authors James Ford, Lea Berrang Ford, Celina Irngaut, and Kevin Qrunnut wrote. "For example, no regular hunters reported not eating for a whole day compared to 41 per cent of non-regular hunters."

Even non-hunters relying on traditional diets were more likely to be food secure.

"None of those who obtained more than half of their food from traditional sources reported going a whole day without eating in the last year," the authors found, "compared to 47 per cent of those who eat half or less."

Unfortunately, not everyone can rely on traditional food sources. Most of the respondents - 64 per cent - were considered food insecure, and those struggling the most were those obtaining their food from stores, and women, who are more likely to go hungry to ensure their children and other family members have food.

"Lack of money, price of store food and other commodities, and expense of hunting were identified as major constraints to being food secure," the authors wrote.

Michael Qappik of Iqaluit has joined the small number of hunters selling country food at the monthly market in Iqaluit.

"I want to help some of the people and help myself at the same time for gas money and some food, too," Qappik said. "It's very expensive to be a hunter these days. Everything is expensive, the snowmobiles, the boats, the rifles, the bullets, and the clothing we have to use when we're out there. At the same time, we have our regular bills to pay."

For many, like Israel Mablick, who moved his family from Pond Inlet to Iqaluit to look for work, hunting for food is simply not an option.

"I can't afford to get a snowmobile, so I can't go out," Mablick said. "I don't even own a rifle. If I owned a snowmobile, a rifle and qamutik, I would go. If anyone else I know is going, I'll ask them, and if I'm lucky they'll say yes."

The Government of Nunavut agrees country food is a way to reduce food insecurity, as discussed at the first meeting of the Nunavut Food Security Coalition June 26 in Iqaluit. The government is using public funds to support the Country Food Distribution Program, which gives hamlets access to funds to purchase, store and distribute country food to Nunavummiut.

Mitsima would also like to see more government investment in other programs - such as removing airport landing fees and reducing the cost of icebreakers - that, in his view, would help feed the poor majority, not the working minority.

"Don't try to feed the one person in 10 working in the community; feed the nine starving people," he said. "The one working person can afford to bring in their own fresh vegetables if they have to. Sell the food for the poor who are in Nunavut."

PORTFOLIO: No breakfast, toast for lunch

Feeding Nunavut series, part 1 of 3

[1st place, Best News/Feature Series - Ontario Community Newspapers Association]
Northern News Services
Published Monday, July 9, 2012

Forced to make a choice between the essentials of life, Israel Mablick uses his money to buy food instead of clothing and shelter.

His mother lets him and his wife and four children share her two-bedroom Iqaluit apartment, where the dream of three square meals is just that - a dream.

"No breakfast," to start the day, Mablick said. "Lunch is either soup or cereal for the kids, or toast for me and my wife. We wait until supper time, which is, if my mother comes home for dinner, whatever groceries she bought from her pay. We try to spread that out until next pay. Steak or ribs, something we can afford."

Their situation is a snapshot of how food insecurity, which many Nunavummiut face, is inextricably tied to other problems, including poverty, unemployment and homelessness.

Failing to survive on a monthly $1,200 income support cheque, Mablick moved his family - his children are eight, seven, four and three years old - to Iqaluit from Pond Inlet so he could find work. He is underemployed, working two nights a week as a security guard, and delivering flowers at $10 per delivery, but the work is not steady.

"Sometimes I have to carve to get what we want," he said. "For example, my (two youngest) kids ran out of diapers this morning, so I have to carve and hopefully sell it before the store closes. They also ran out of formula a week ago, but they'll have to wait until tomorrow, my payday. We've been letting them drink water or ask my mother to get two-per-cent milk."

However, life was harder in Pond Inlet, he said. "All the groceries we got from income support only lasted a week and a half. After that, we had to call family members asking for groceries to help us out. It was tough for us."

Mablick's children are among the 70 per cent of Nunavut's preschoolers, according to the oft-cited Nunavut Inuit Child Health Survey, who live in homes where there is not enough food. Mablick and his son joined the small chorus of protesters outside the Iqaluit NorthMart on June 21. The pan-territorial protest, a followup to a June 9 event, was intended to draw attention to the disparities between food prices in the North compared to those in southern Canada.

"Our wish is for both the government and also the companies to come to some sort of conclusion as to how they can lower the cost of food that is being sent north," said Eric Joamie of Pangnirtung, the spokesperson for the Feeding My Family group leading the charge against high food prices. "The government already knows they're part of the problem. We want to work on the companies and airlines first, and once we have a general sense of where these businesses are, we'll go full force on the government."

For its part, the North West Company, which runs the NorthMart and Northern stores across Nunavut, maintains prices have gone down since the introduction of the Nutrition North Canada program. It keeps track of prices for a basket of food, including fruit, vegetables, bread, dairy and meat products. Their statistics show that since the end of the Food Mail program in March 2011, the basket in all communities has lowered in price by an average of 15 per cent. (For communities where an item was not available, Nunavut News/North used the average price across all stores.)

The communities seeing the biggest drop in prices are Hall Beach, Iglulik, Baker Lake, Kimmirut, and Chesterfield Inlet, all at 22 per cent.

On the other end, prices changed the least in Mablick's hometown of Pond Inlet (seven per cent), Pangnirtung (eight per cent), and Qikiqtarjuaq and Cape Dorset (10 per cent). Three of those communities continue to have the highest prices in the territory: the basket costs $243.18 in Cape Dorset, $232.65 in Pangnirtung, and $226.19 in Pond Inlet. Compared to Cape Dorset, prices are 23 per cent lower in Hall Beach, where the basket costs the least at $186.99. Rankin Inlet is next at $187.18, and Iglulik is third at $191.05.

In a June 27 statement, Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development Canada (AANDC) Minister John Duncan affirmed prices have gone down.

"Program audits show that the subsidy is being passed along to consumers," Duncan stated. "We are seeing that food prices in the Northern Food Basket for a family of four have dropped on average five per cent and as much as 14 per cent. Prices on some products, such as two litres of two-per-cent milk, have dropped by as much as 37 per cent."

"The program is achieving its objectives," said Stephen Van Dine, AANDC's director-general of devolution and territorial relations and the man responsible for Nutrition North Canada (NNC), "which was to increase access to nutritious and perishable foods to the greatest number of people living in remote communities across the North."

As Van Dine confirmed, Duncan insists retailers are complying with and not profiteering from the subsidy program.

"Monitoring of the food basket under NNC is far more comprehensive than under the previous program," Duncan stated. "Lower prices under NNC are driving increased consumption of healthy foods, with some retailers reporting (sales) increases of up to 19 per cent for dairy products and fresh produce. Almost 90 per cent of the subsidies go to produce, meat and alternatives, milk and dairy, and grain products."

And North West Company executive vice-president Michael McMullen says consumers are keeping an eye out, too.

"Some of the blogs said 'We're going to track you guys,'" McMullen said. "Healthy bundled products have gone down in price. I would love to have a process that would allow prices to go down. That's what we do every day.

"Nutrition North is a change in logistic system," he said, that removed Canada Post as an intermediary and allowed retailers to negotiate lower freight prices directly.

The system still does not work for people outside the major centres, says Jakob Gearheard, executive director of Clyde River's Ilisaqsivik family resource centre, because the availability of healthy food in Northern communities is so limited.

"In our Northern store here, there's one tiny section for fruits and vegetables," he said. "There are four rows and only two of those rows are dedicated to food, and an area maybe the size of a sofa is dedicated to (fresh) fruits and vegetables."

As evidence of the reality on the ground, Gearheard estimates the centre's various breakfast, after-school, youth, pre-natal, and cooking programs feed at least 500 people each day Monday to Friday. The hamlet had a population of 935 in 2011, according to census figures.

During the first months of the Nutrition North program, his costs went up by between 30 and 40 per cent, costs covered by a successful funding application. With the new subsidy rates, "food costs are pretty close to what they were before NNC began," he said.

Even if he were to try to buy the program supplies locally, the supply could not meet the demand.

"We would buy out the entire store in one day, and we would use that food in one day," he said. "It's just not there."

By ordering food from the south, he can get exactly what he wants, which is not possible with the Northern, as they have a limited list of products they stock, he said.

"There's a huge difference between Iqaluit and a place like Clyde River. You know how you feel living in Iqaluit when you go to Ottawa and you think, 'Wow, there's so much food'? That's how we feel when we go to Iqaluit. The prices are so cheap (compared to Clyde River) and I can actually get produce there."

When asked about Gearheard's experience at the Northern store, McMullen said it was news to him, and that he would look into finding a way to help Gearheard source his supplies locally. Gearheard later said he is looking into special ordering part of the weekly order to support the other local grocery store in hopes it will expand its healthy food options. Even if the food situation is getting better, as the federal government affirms, there's still a long way to go for Nunavut's most vulnerable residents.

"Our numbers are always increasing," said Jen Hayward, co-chair of the Niqinik Nuatsivik Nunavut Food Bank in Iqaluit, which has gone to serving 1,062 people in 2010 from just 45 in 2001. The food bank is open every two weeks because it would run out of food if the doors were open more often.

"The family sizes are increasing," she said of the food bank's clients. "The number of people living in houses is increasing. We used to give out a lot of family bags for families of four and under. Now we're giving out a lot more family and supplemental bags, which are for people with more than four in their families."

Seeing a similar need, Pond Inlet is working to create the Mittima Niqitarvik food bank, which will give access to donated country food and groceries for its residents.

"Most people here can't afford to pay bills or buy food," said acting community economic development officer Sam Arreak, who is taking the lead on the creation of the food bank, which will "at least help alleviate some of the hunger that kids and youth are going through right now."

As Arreak attests, a lack of employment opportunities aggravates the problem. Gearheard concurs.

"You might be the only person in your extended family who has a good nine-to-five job," Gearheard said. "There's so much homelessness, there's so many people living in one house, and there's so much poverty, that if you (someone in Clyde River) get food and take it home, everybody eats and everybody shares the food. That food might be gone in two days, and then what do you do?"

Eric Joamie is energized by the way Nunavummiut are standing up for a concern that affects them and their neighbours.

"People are getting a better understanding of how the system works," he said. "By their participation, they're getting more information about how the system is supposed to work, but is not working today."

Mablick wants to see improvements, which for him means lower prices.

"Not just on groceries, but everything, like clothing, rent, so we can afford to get our own place, to get clothes for our kids," Mablick said. "All the clothes they have are from donations or other peoples' garbage. Even though I have two jobs, I'm having a hard time living day by day. We don't even have a house or apartment because I choose food instead of paying for an apartment."

PORTFOLIO: Pond Inlet MLA and wife living in shack

Enook disputes trying to use position to get social housing

[3rd place, Best Feature Writing - Ontario Community Newspapers Association]
Northern News Services
Published Saturday, November 12, 2011

When Tununiq MLA Joe Enook made a campaign promise to move to Pond Inlet, he expected several private housing units to open as workers finished construction projects this fall.

They didn't.

Today, Enook and his wife Mary Kilabuk are staying in a shack, and having exhausted all other options, he has applied for social housing.

"I am homeless in Nunavut right now," he said, noting they gave up their home in Iqaluit to make the move to Pond Inlet Nov. 3. Now, they have no running water. Thin walls and a Coleman stove are their only defence against the elements.

"It's a little damp and a little cold, but that's what we have and we appreciate what's been given to us," he said.

Enook told News/North in September that he would find a house, one way or another, because his constituents want their MLA to live in Pond Inlet. He says he has tried every private housing option to no avail. There is simply nothing available, he said.

"I tried everything I could in my power to go through the private sector," he said this week. "I approached everybody in the business of renting houses, and at the end of it all, I had no choice to go through the normal route of applying for social housing."

It was a controversial move. As an MLA, he doesn't qualify for government staff housing, and with MLA earnings above the limit for social housing, he shouldn't qualify for that either.

With his base salary, Northern and housing allowances, and additional pay for serving on committees -- he is deputy chair of the committee of the whole -- Enook easily passes the income threshold. His predecessor in Tununiq, James Arvaluk, made $121,470 in 2010. The lowest earning MLA, Adamie Komoartok of Pangnirtung, earned $109,474.

In addition, social housing applicants must have lived in the community for at least three months. Enook and Kilabuk moved to Pond Inlet Nov. 3. Still, he disputes suggestions that he has tried to use his position to jump to the top of the social housing waiting list in Pond Inlet.

"I've never demanded housing," he insisted. "The housing association has a house they want to give to me. The Pond Inlet hamlet council has written to the housing association strongly recommending that I be given the house. They've gone on the radio to see how Mittimatalingmiut feel, and 90 per cent of all callers apparently said, 'give him a house.'"

He said there are vacant government staff housing units that are not being filled because the staff who should be living in them are living in social housing instead; their staff housing subsidy simply does not make it financially attractive to move.

"While I live in a shack, several GN staff houses are sitting empty and have been for several years," he said. "They're costing the government thousands of dollars in maintenance and heating and fuel bills unused. There must be a way of figuring out how to utilize those units to alleviate the problems of social housing. Nobody seems to be co-ordinating a common front to face the problem."

Enook and Kilabuk plan to stay in their shack if no solution arises before they return to Iqaluit for legislative committee meetings Nov. 21. Staying at a hotel is an option, but a costly one: although rooms had been full with a conference earlier in the month, a front desk clerk at Pond Inlet's Sauniq Hotel said the rate is $235 per person, per night, which would translate to $5,170 (discounts notwithstanding) from Nov. 10, when News/North spoke with Enook, to Nov. 21. At that rate, it would cost $14,100 to stay at the hotel for 30 days.

Citing high rents in the capital and his promise to serve his constituency as a resident, Enook ruled out moving back to Iqaluit. He reiterated his confidence that something permanent will come up in Pond Inlet soon.

"A private home will become available, it's just a matter of when it will be vacated," he said.

"Things will work out. The shack's not winterized, but my wife and I pray every night that it doesn't go to -30, and, knock on wood, it hasn't yet. It's been very tough on both of us, but we've tried to keep a smile on our face and appreciate the people of Pond Inlet who have been kind to us since we've been here."

And for Enook the legislator, there is a silver lining to the situation.

"It has people talking about social housing in a real way. Maybe at the end of it all, it will do something good for Nunavummiut to have had this frank conversation about this issue."