January 16, 2004
Down and out at 35
below
Iqaluit's homeless:
mainly Inuit, mostly ignored
JANE
GEORGE
CLICK
PHOTO TO ENLARGE
Mean
Gene's fast food restaurant is an oasis of warmth for Iqalungmiut who need shelter
from the frigid winter. (PHOTOS BY JANE GEORGE)
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No earthquake or war has
hit Nunavut, but the casualties of social upheaval fill the tables at Mean Gene's
fast food restaurant in the Northmart grocery store in Iqaluit.
On the most frigid day
of this year, the restaurant overflows with penniless customers who make a cup
of coffee last all day because they don't have a job to go to or a home to call
their own.
Northmart is a magnet for
the city's homeless - a situation that store manager Glenn Cousins deals with
day after day as he grapples with his desire to help and his frustration over
a role he's not sure his store should play.
"It puts me in an
awkward position," Cousins says.
That's because sometimes
customers don't like to pass in front of the crowd at the store's entrance and
they complain it's hard to find a free table at Mean Gene's. Occasionally some
loiterers try to bum a cigarette or an argument breaks out. The sale of drugs
has also moved in with the new clientele.
The problem, at least as
Cousins sees it, is that the city has been so busy concentrating on development
that it hasn't looked at the growing numbers of people, overwhelmingly Inuit,
who have no place to go.
Iqaluit's
Oqota shelter for the homeless has 14 beds, and they're full every night.
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These Inuit men and women
of all ages are visible signs of homelessness in Iqaluit where some estimate
up 10 to 15 per cent of the adult population is homeless - that is, about half
of the total Inuit adult population of Nunavut's capital city.
People are homeless for
many reasons. Some are homeless because they are mentally ill. Or they may be
former inmates, newcomers to Iqaluit, battered women, alcoholics, drug addicts
and even members of the workforce who have no subsidized housing or don't earn
enough to pay market rents. Some are children.
Not every person who lacks
a home is totally homeless. Some live in overcrowded situations, where residents
have to sleep in shifts, or with families who don't want them. Many have no
idea where they will sleep, in what house, and with whom, on a daily basis and
have no fixed address.
Every night Iqaluit's 14-bed
shelter is full.
Josh
Teemotee-Mittima is executive director of Iqaluit's Illitiit Society.
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Josh Teemotee-Mittima,
the executive director of Iqaluit's Illitiit Society, a non-profit organization
that supports the Oqota shelter, says homeless Iqalungmiut are ignored.
Teemotee-Mittima believes
Nunavut has imported a bureaucracy of civil servants, mainly from the Atlantic
provinces, who don't see or care about the community's growing social crisis.
"Down South, there
are a lot of jobs, lots of support agencies. We don't have that up here. When
we import a new bureaucrat up here and they have no contacts, they don't realize
the impact of their decisions here. That's the reality - they don't see the
impact. They'll never see it because it's perfectly acceptable in the Maritimes
to crap on the native people," Teemotee-Mittima says.
"They have no stake
in improving the North because they're too busy trying to make ends meet."
Teemotee-Mittima sees a
"mad, vicious circle" where Inuit aren't supported, can't resolve
their issues, and social problems, such as suicide, family violence and addictions,
multiply.
A lot of Inuit are still
too polite, he says, and too taken in by the promise of Nunavut although the
jobs they could have and the housing they need are further away than ever.
"People don't put
two and two together. While the Premier makes more speeches, the situation is
getting worse. The anger goes round and round. No one realizes how much discontent
there is."
Teemotee-Mittima says bureaucrats
with lots of paper qualifications have pushed Inuit from many front-line jobs
dealing with social issues, and, as government ends up doing less for people
who need help with their daily life - for instance, making sure rent is paid
from their social assistance - they end up on Iqaluit's mean streets.
"It's all in the name
of making Nunavut work, and it's going to get worse," he says.
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PHOTO TO ENLARGE
With
no drop-in day centre, public places like Mean Gene's restaurant play a dual
role.
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Beyond government insensitivity,
a range of personal and economic reasons can also cause homelessness.
All employees who live
in housing furnished by their employers are at risk of homelessness as they
can be asked to vacate within a week of losing their job.
They may not qualify for
social housing. Some who do qualify sometimes don't pay their rent or they trash
their houses and end up evicted.
To get on the list for
social housing, potential tenants must reside in Iqaluit for at least a year
and have no rent arrears. Those with a history of property destruction or unpaid
bills can find themselves homeless, faced with the choice of shacking up with
family, living in a shack on the beach or staying at the shelter.
Between 150 to 200 new
social housing units are needed, about the same number as a study of housing
needs indicated 15 years ago when there were only 20 to 30 homeless people in
Iqaluit. Although the need continues, vandalism, wear and tear and disrespect
for property also cost the housing authority thousands of dollars a year per
unit. Many tenants owe back rent. This also means there's less money for new
housing units.
Susan
Spring, manager of the Iqaluit Housing Authority, receives many more requests
for housing than she can meet.
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With a waiting period of
up to two years for new tenants and little construction of new social housing
units planned, Susan Spring, manager of the Iqaluit Housing Authority, says
it risks becoming the "unhousing" authority.
Spring says Iqaluit's homeless
problem is still not as acute as in Toronto where the number of homeless probably
exceeds the entire population of Iqaluit, where gangs, guns, prostitution and
hard drugs are part of the scene and street people freeze when the temperatures
drop.
Ed Picco, Nunavut's minister
of health and social services, who is also responsible for homelessness, says
the territorial government is doing what it can to deal with the problem.
"We are the only jurisdiction
in Canada, provincial or territorial, that has a dedicated minister for homelessness."
Picco said the problem
is that federal money - about $200 million annually - is distributed on a per
capita basis.
Despite Ottawa's commitment
to spend money fighting homelessness, non-profit organizations like Iqaluit's
Illitiit Society are left to take up the slack in social programs and run social
services on a shoe string, which some level of government once looked after.
Although Iqaluit's homeless
problem isn't new, Teemotee-Mittima says Nunavut has made a bad situation worse
by removing the few supports that mentally ill and unemployable Inuit had in
the community, while handing out jobs and housing to others. A "horrible
learning curve" lies ahead.
Cousins says lack of housing
deprives people of a "fundamental" tool to develop self-esteem and
become stable members of the workforce.
Although it's far from
a solution, a supervised drop-in centre, Cousins suggests, would make a big
difference to the people he sees every day at the store.
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