The call of the rez

When my sister Dallas broke the news a few weeks ago, I was hoping she was just feeling homesick. She was talking about moving back to the rez.

Dallas and her kids moved to the city after her marriage broke up more than a year ago. She was looking for a new start, and Winnipeg was the place.

She wasn't clueless about living in the city but it had been a while. Some things have changed.

Dallas is a good mom and a good sister. She's the closest in age to me, so we've been through a lot together. I tried to help her get settled but feel bad because there were times when I fell short in my big sister duties.

I have a hard time knowing when to help and when to sit back and let people help themselves.

It took a few months to find my sister a place to rent because she had limited resources and too many kids to squeeze into the tiny places she could afford. Many landlords would widen their eyes when we'd tell them how many kids she had, and then she'd get turned down.

Did I mention Dallas has seven kids?

My sister finally found a place, but it was totally out of her budget. She decided to go for it despite my warnings about the utility bills.

She liked her place, but the bills were killer for a single parent, and the block she lived on was a little sketchy. It seemed that every weekend some new crime happened. Also, her house was roomy but a bit of a hovel.

The house had fresh paint but the furnace and appliances were prehistoric. The stove had baked-on grime that looked like it was from the '80s. It sometimes gave her electric shocks. The fridge door shelves were held together with duct tape.

Every time it rained, a big ravine started to flow through a crack in the basement wall.

Just the other day I was going to buy her a used stove because the landlords kept saying they'd bring newer appliances but never did.

I had to stop myself from getting the landlords' phone number and bawling them out. It didn't make sense if we couldn't find her another place to live first.

She filled out housing applications and was put on waiting lists.

When a friend from the reserve said she was moving and Dallas could have her house, she jumped at the chance. I don't blame her.

From what my sister said it's like a mansion compared to what she's living in.

In a lot of ways I can understand why my sister wants to go back. She doesn't have to worry much about shootings on the rez.

A lot of people move to the city for a chance at a better life, but what they find is sometimes worse than what they left behind.

A friend took her to a food bank recently. That was a first for her.

I told her there's no shame in going to a food bank. Even people who have jobs sometimes go there. Back when I was pregnant with my son, I had to go to the food bank a few times. There are no food banks on the rez.

The way it works back home is you call family and friends to lend you some cash or some food. Or maybe if there's a local store, you can get some stuff on credit if your name is good. But there were some benefits to my sister living in her sad hovel. She found her calling.

She ended up doing some DIY plumbing when the lacklustre landlords wouldn't come by to fix anything. The leaking sink faucet fell apart so she changed it. Then the clogged toilet got changed for one my mom bought at the Habitat for Humanity Restore.

Now my sister wants to be a plumber. The pay is good and maybe she can start her own plumbing business some day.

Her plan is to go back to the rez and finish the two credits she needs for Grade 12. After that she's going to take some trades training they're offering, and get some job experience.

Then, who knows? She says she's going to come back to Winnipeg in a year and take plumbing training at the Aboriginal Centre or maybe Red River College.

Now she's gone and I'm a little sad. I won't hold her to it, but I'm hoping she does come back. It's lonely in the city without family but you have to do what you can to make your life better.

Colleen Simard is a Winnipeg writer.

colleen.simard@gmail.com

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition November 5, 2011 J6