Fear the flood

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 28/03/2009 (6368 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

FEW people would consider Winnipeggers a cal­lous bunch, given our penchant for pushing each other’s cars out of snowdrifts, punching above our weight when we give to charities and gener­ally behaving more selflessly than we ought to behave.

But it’s hard not to notice a weird initial reaction when people in this burg were first told the the not-so-shocking news that the Red River is burbling above its banks for the third time in 13 years.

It’s not exactly ennui, because Winnipeggers are far from lackadaisical about the coming flood, given the way we’re gobbling up the frightening news from Fargo and the northern fringes of our own city.

And it’s not really resignation, as it only takes one public call to arms to convince thousands of us to walk away from our jobs, families and other responsibilities for a few hours to fill, deliver or stack a few dozen sandbags somewhere in town.

But what seemed palpable inside the Perimeter realier this week was an unusual lack of fear about the flood.

In April 1997, as the Flood of the Century crept north, most Winnipeggers woke up every morning and wondered quite legitimately about the future of the city.

In case you didn’t live here at the time, the scene was surreal. Helicopters flew overhead. Military vehicles rolled down the streets. International news reports treated Winnipeg like a besieged city on the verge of falling to an advancing menace.

You could almost feel the frustration emanating from a thousand newsroom assignment desks after the Brunkild Z-Dike held and the city survived.

The flood of 2006 came and went without many Winnipeggers worrying. And even as the flood of 2009 develops into a much more serious disaster, many Winnipeggers still don’t seem to be freaked out.

It’s almost as we’ve been lulled into a false sense of security, as the newly expanded Red River Floodway will probably protect people inside the Perimeter from anything the Red can send our way.

But that’s a problem, because of tens of thousands of Red River Valley residents don’t live in Winnipeg.

While riverside communities have reinforced their ring-dikes and rural residents have moved their homes up on to mounds, the fact remains that grain and cattle farmers can’t really afford to find their fields submerged for yet another soggy season.

There is a lot more to a farm than a farmhouse, as the effort required to move livestock, equipment and expensive vehicles up above the projected floodline is immense. The effort required to clear debris from fields after the floodwaters recede is also considerable.

The stress of wondering whether the whole mess can be cleaned up in time to seed for the summer is beyond the experience of city dwellers, especially given the fact farmers have already spent the past few years suffering under the weight of high fuel and fertilizer prices, not to mention dwindling or non-existent profits.

While the agricultural community represents a small portion of Manitoba’s population — and industrial concerns continue to nudge out family farms — it’s nonsensical and even callous for Winnipeggers to sit back and relax in the face of yet another lake emerging in the Red River Valley.

Some of our southern neighbours trembled through the spring of 2006 almost as badly as we did in 1997. But the ’06 survival and cleanup story simply did not speak to Winnipeggers.

Personally, I have no right to be indignant; I sandbagged in 1997 but did nothing to help in 2006, aside from writing a news story or two.

Over the next few weeks, if the call comes to help out people who live outside the Perimeter, don’t think twice about taking a daytrip down Highway 75 or 59.

If our butts are protected by a $665-million floodway expansion, we should have no problem getting off our dry behinds and spending a few gas dollars to aid our neighbours outside the ditch.

bartley.kives@freepress.mb.ca