Lack of Access & Learning How to "Go Deep" from the Elders

If you know anything about First Nation communities, I'm certain you've heard the phrase lack of access. Whether it's lack of access to fresh water or to mental health services or health services in general, I'm certain you've heard the phrase, and maybe even you've taken a second to think, wow, that would be inconvenient. But today I want to teach you something that I've been practicing my entire life because I was raised by Anishinaabe Kwe, an Ojibwe woman. It's the practice of going deeper, not just looking at the superficial, but what's underneath. Suffice to say, when I came home from high school, at the end of every day, my mom would ask, so, what did you learn today? She didn't want to hear about algebra or geometry or the history lesson. What she meant was, what did I learn about myself, about relationships, about did I add to my wisdom? What did I learn? So today we're going to look at lack of access and go deeper, in line with my mom's teachings. So let's talk about it. Hi, everybody. My name is Sandy Boucher. I'm Red Thunderbolt, woman of the Loon clan, a proud member of Seine River first nation in Treaty 3 territory in Northern Ontario. And as I mentioned, today we're going to talk about or learn how to go deeper. Now, I cannot talk about going deeper without thinking of a dear, sweet elder that was so loved in the area I live in, and that would be Frida McDonald. Why I think of her on a regular basis is something that happened to me shortly after my first book came out. So when I wrote Honorary Indian Way back in, well, it came out in 2010, so 2008, 2009, I didn't know a lot about cultural lens then. I was so focused on writing down all my mom's teachings so I wouldn't forget the things she had taught me that I didn't realize. I was writing the book entirely from an Indigenous lens, which of course makes sense because that's my lens. I don't have another one I can call up, but I anticipated or actually didn't anticipate or what would happen when non Indigenous people read the book. For those familiar with it, it's a daily motivational guide. There's a little story, a little snapshot from my life for every day of the year. The idea was you would read this story about my life and take a lesson or a teaching from it that could help you navigate your own path and your own life. You would Go deeper. But very shortly after the book was released, I spoke to people at seminar who had read it and they thought it was a nice book and they thought it was deep and meaningful. And yes, they even passed it on to other people. But for many of them, I could tell they had just read it, that they didn't go deeper. So when something like that happens and I have no idea what to do, I do what I've always done, grab some tobacco, head out to see an elder, and in this case, creator kind of sent her to me. Because Freda MacDonald, Isabel Mercier, another amazing elder here in the city of Thunder Bay, and I and a whole bunch of other people happen to be at the same conference, I saw my opportunity. So during the break, I took my tobacco, headed over, sat down beside Frida, who always greeted everyone with a smile and a hug. She was always so happy to see everybody. She is so missed. Once we got past the hi, how are you doing? It's great to see you. I offered her the tobacco and like so many elders do, she suddenly got quite quiet and serious so she could focus on my words. And I explained to her what I had just explained to you, that people were reading my book, but they weren't getting everything they could out of it because they weren't going deeper. And I didn't know what to do about that. Without missing a beat, in true elder style, Frida just said, take. Well, I guess you're gonna have to teach them. And any Anishinaabe person watching this is giggling now, because we know we learn really easy or worry, blah, blah. We learn really early that if you ask a elder for advice, you better be willing to do some work. Because they don't just give you the answer, they give you a direction. You got to do the work. So that's one of the reasons I wanted to do this video today, because I realized when it came to lack of access, people were just taking that at face value. And I'm all about putting the human back into the statistics or the stories or the facts. So let's look at first off, I'm going to list some of the services that are lacking, and then we'll go through each one of them. So if you think of her, wow, I'm having trouble talking today. I need more coffee. If you go through the services that may be lacking, especially in a remote First Nation community, I already mentioned mental health services, health services in general, educational opportunities, police services, grocery stores, not necessarily a grocery grocery desert or a food desert like they say in mainstream but we'll talk about it. And just a lack of capacity in the community. So now let's look at each one of those separately so we can go deeper. So the first one, and yes, I have pages of notes here. So the first one is mental health services. It's easy enough to understand how that would be challenging. But do you realize how challenging? I can think of a nearby, I don't want to say local because they're not that close, but a road access community. So they're on the highway, they're not flying, but they can't get counselors and therapists into their community. So they're actually bringing people out, driving them to the city of Thunder Bay, putting them in a hotel and having them go to a counselor every single day for an entire week and then going back home. If you've taken any kind of therapy, I hope you're with me and realizing how horrific that would be. Imagine having to deal with some horrific trauma and you're going to do a five day intensive on it. I'm exhausted after one appointment a month, let alone every day for a week. And then they just go back home to the environment that may have been supporting the trauma. It's not ideal. That's what lack of services looks like. And by the way, often when it comes to remote services, the people that apply and are willing to do that have questionable intentions. There's a really good chance they can't find employment elsewhere. It's the only reason they're willing to travel and do this remote work or they're inexperienced or worse. So just because you finally have a therapist doesn't necessarily mean they're a good one. And safety plans or therapy plans, you know, plans to get you healthy, like doing five days straight. Not my idea of a great plan. So that's what lack of services like looks like when we're talking about mental health. Next. Oh, let's talk health services in general. Now this definitely applies to remote municipalities as well as first nation communities. And then it's just magnified in the flying communities. But in the fly ins, let's talk about the remotes. In the fly in remote communities, there's a nursing station, there's a nurse on staff for whatever hours a day, 9 to 5, 7 to 7, whatever the case may be, limited supplies, limited experience, which leads to community members getting flown out for everything from, you know, severely broken bone, head injuries or even having a baby. I can think of a recent case where a woman in a remote community actually lost her life because she had Ran out of her diabetes medication. There was nothing at the nursing station and they couldn't get a plane out fast enough. That's scary. Lack of access. And again, who are the people applying to work in these remote communities right now? I'm certain the pay is not bad, but you're away from your family and your children and the places you know. And what kind of training do they have? What kind of attitudes do they have towards indigenous people? If there's one thing I have become acutely aware of is that lack of services often means endurance, enduring, enduring the lousy therapist that makes jokes about indigenous people that aren't funny. Enduring the nurse that has all the stereotypes about indigenous people and is all about blaming them and not the environment they're trying to grow in. That kind of stuff that really highlights what lack of services does to people. If you don't like the service at your local grocery store, you go to another. If you don't like a particular nurse, you might be able to go to a different walk in clinic. That's not the case when you have lack of access. Next, we're going to talk about education. Again, limited teachers. Who's applying for these jobs? They're either brand new and can't get a job elsewhere or they can't get a job elsewhere for other reasons. And the residential school era taught us that sometimes people love to or want to work in remote, isolated communities far from the observation of everyone else for nefarious reasons. I am not saying that applies to everyone. We have some amazing young, brand new teachers that go into the communities and so determined to learn and help. Unfortunately, it's hard work. It's hard to be in a community and see the challenges there. It's hard to try to support children who don't necessarily come from a stable home life. And often once they have some experience and can work elsewhere, they leave. And that leaves the children abandoned by what they thought was going to be a relationship that would last a long time. So again, if your teacher. There's so many cases where a kid just doesn't get along with a certain teacher and it's no fault of either one. You're just going to have to endure that if there's lack of access, whether they're lousy or not, it's not like you can switch to another class or even to another school. There's no other option. You're just going to have to endure. Maybe lack of access should be crossed out and just put enduring. Enduring the lack of services. Interesting. Next, police services were you aware we have some remote communities that actually share police services? These are flying communities, which means police officers in usually two of them at a time in a community, say for Monday, and then that evening they fly to the other community, they're there Tuesday, and then they fly back. Any guesses what happens to a community if they know there's no police services in town? Yeah. And again, who applies for these jobs? The brand new police officers who can't get a job elsewhere or the problematic police officers who can't get a job elsewhere? Training. I'm not saying that they get amazing training to unpack all those stereotypes that they have about indigenous people. I have definitely heard the slurs over the years. And these are the people. And guess what? Police do not work with anyone. On their best days, you're seeing people in their worst situations, which can actually reinforce stereotypes. So again, enduring safety is definitely not a given in our remote communities. Next, slightly different, but we want to talk about capacity. So what you may or may not realize is in a remote First Nation community, often the people that are working in the band office running the programs, whether it's healthy babies, healthy children, or living well, aging well at home, or whatever the case may be, those people are not necessarily educated and trained to do that work. They're willing to do their work. They're a community member who has stepped up, some seen a need for this program and willing to try to figure it out on the job. Can you imagine the stress? And by the way, they're probably dealing with family members, whether. And I say dealing with. They're seeing the, the poverty and the lack of access. Excuse me. And, and you know, maybe addictions and violence. This is not a fun place to work. But they're stepping up because they're trying to make their community better. And what they deal with are government funders, the people that send them the money to run their programs. Obviously, when there's funding, there's reporting required, and then they endure the judgment of the government officials. Who doesn't like that the report's late or doesn't like that it didn't have as much details as they would like. Never once thinking of the lack of capacity in the First Nation community. Maybe they didn't have time to do your report because they were out saving some someone's life or making sure that a mom and her kids didn't end up homeless or paid the hydro bill or whatever the case may be to make sure there's heat and lights in their home. The priorities are definitely different in A First Nation community, and it's not necessarily reporting. And on top of that, if you're not educated, and definitely not educated in the work you do, imagine the stress that would come from having to write a report and knowing you don't know how to do it. Lack of capacity can be incredibly challenging. And I did almost forget one. The groceries, the food store. So a food desert. Desert would mean there was no access to groceries. That's not the case in a remote First Nation community, but chances are really good there's only one northern store with really expensive food. By the way, for the people that are on social assistance, the amount of money you get on social assistance is the same in Toronto, in Thunder Bay, or in a remote community. But if you're paying 25 bucks for a bag of milk, I just freaked out the Americans because they said, bad of milk. Bag of milk. We have bags of milk. If you're paying that much for a bag of milk, your check does not go very far. I can remember being in one flying community. This is years ago. And after we had done our work for the day, the woman, the manager who had brought me in took me for a drive around the community. Beautiful community, so proud of their community garden. And they were all volunteering to take care of it. It was absolutely amazing. And as we were coming back, before she dropped me off, she asked me if it would be okay to stop at the store. She wanted to pick up something for dinner. And of course I didn't mind at all. So I got to go into the store with her. The first thing I saw was the empty shelves, the lack of choices. And while we were there, she called her husband and whatever they were planning to have for dinner, she was explaining to him that that's not an option because, quote, unquote, dairy doesn't come in until Wednesday. That's what lack of access to food choices are like. And bad food is often cheap food. When you're trying to stretch the money and the ridiculous costs that you incur in a First Nation community, a northern remote fly in First Nation community, it gets ridiculous incredibly fast. So bottom line, I hope what this helped you realize is lack of services is so much more than just inconvenient. It is so often enduring. It's enduring the racist nurse, doctor or hospital. If you're flown out because you get flown out so often, it's just ridiculous. It's dealing with the uninformed or racist mental health provider. You endure a racist judgmental cops. You endure having to choose the food that you don't want to and it's not fresh because there is no other choice. And then you endure the judgment of the people in mainstream when you come out because they're wondering why you can't get it together. Yeah. Yeah. So maybe now you know, maybe now you're a little more skilled in going deeper. Next time, instead of judging, ask yourself what's going on. Why don't just assume people are lazy or. Or disinterested in finding a solution. Because that's not it at all. Go deeper, then maybe you'll figure it out. Until next time. I love you. Take care. Bye. Bye. It.