Disaster shines positive light on folks outside the Perimeter

Opinion

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 02/07/2011 (5210 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

If there is one positive to emerge from the ongoing flood disaster in rural Manitoba it is that it has, over the past three months, drawn attention to the vibrant life beyond Winnipeg’s Perimeter highway.

The provincial government’s daily flood bulletins are set to surpass the 90 mark this weekend and there is no end in sight. That’s kept rural Manitoba in the news, albeit on a sliding scale as the “crisis” becomes as tired, as news stories go, as the people filling sandbags in preparation for not one, not two, but a third crest.

Rural Manitobans have often accused their city cousins of having “perimeteritis,” an affliction known to cause temporary paralysis for clerks faced with a customer whose address is a box number instead of a street address in Winnipeg. “Is that in Manitoba?” they sometimes ask.

Urban and rural in Manitoba are like two different worlds.

It doesn’t matter where you live, people still get all hot and bothered at election time. But the political reality in this province is that elections are won or lost in the city that houses two-thirds of its population. So even if the “other” party gets in, it will be with an agenda that appeals to those voters, which may or may not jibe with the wishes of their rural supporters.

For those who recognize this, it is a constant source of frustration. But at a subconscious level, much of the rural community remains in a time warp, harkening back to the days when one in three lived on farms and the farm vote had sway.

These days, it’s hard for the rural voice to be noticed, much less heeded. If the rural community is to get its wish list pushed to the top of the agenda, it needs to present it in such a way that it appeals to urban voters, too.

You can’t blame the dominant city for being somewhat self-centred, maybe even a little smug. It is, after all, the hub of Manitoba, and the regular news coverage tends to reflect that.

Rural Manitobans, whose idea of a traffic jam is two pickups blocking main street as their drivers pause to exchange crop reports, savour their own moments of smugness listening to morning radio with all of the reports of jammed-up streets.

“How can people live that way?” they wonder as they walk uptown for the mail, or head out the door to their “office,” a.k.a. the farm shop or a tractor cab.

City folk ask the same question driving through one-stoplight towns with no shopping malls and little evidence of “cultural” activity beyond the hockey rink. That’s not to say it doesn’t exist, only that it appears invisible to the untrained eye.

But along came the 2011 flood and with it the kind of drama and excitement that drew the urban and national press to places many reporters had never been — a farmer’s kitchen table as the family prepared to evacuate, a rancher’s pasture where cows stood knee deep in flood waters, a cottager watching several generations of memories destroyed by waves rolling off an angry lake, and even a chilling demonstration of the dangers presented by flooded roads.

Listening to those reporters tell their stories, it became clear that for many, this was a life-changing experience.

These reporters were not only covering a story of national significance, they were catching a glimpse of the passion rural Manitobans have for their lifestyle, their sense of identity in being connected to a place and their feelings of loss as flood waters overtake that place that roots them.

They captured the spirit and determination of individuals rallying to protect not just their own properties, but of those around them.

Whereas the equally disastrous ice storms that shut down cities in Eastern Canada a few years ago sparked rage and acts of anarchy as individuals put their personal needs first, people in these smaller communities realize protecting each other is their best form of self-preservation.

These are qualities rural people take for granted. To outside observers, they are something to marvel. It became part of the story to be told. And in telling that story, it became tangible — something other people can see.

As the saying goes, never waste a good crisis. Rural Manitoba hasn’t.

The flood battle continues. People are weary. But it’s a worthwhile fight. If the rest of Canada doubted it before, it knows it now.

 

Laura Rance is editor of the Manitoba Co-operator. She can be reached at 792-4382 or by email: laura@fbcpublishing.com