A grassroots solution

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 07/11/2009 (5812 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

NELSON HOUSE — Lou Moodie is an optimist.

He knows tuberculosis and violence run rampant in Nisichawayasih Cree Nation. In one very bad week this summer two new cases of TB were diagnosed and 17-year-old Dakota Hunter’s lifeless body was left beaten and half-naked on the side of the road.

Moodie knows there aren’t enough houses for people to live in and as many as 15 people are sardined into dilapidated houses, some boarded up, with broken windows and burned-out cars in the front yard.

He sees too many young people buried in the local cemetery who took their own life. He knows that substance abuse is a huge problem.

Moodie knows what he’s up against. But he also believes he knows how to fix it.

Moodie is the chairman of NCN’s housing authority, which has recently struck a plan he thinks will cut to the heart of the health and social woes that continue to plague this northern reserve.

The root of his idea is simple: Better housing equals better health.

Moodie hopes a plan to collect rent and eventually allow residents to get mortgages and own their own homes will put a stop to the community’s housing crisis and, in turn, reduce the number of related health problems such as TB.

"(We need to) progressively eliminate this problem we have in our community. It’s not going to happen overnight," Moodie said, standing on the edge of Footprint Lake. "You’re going to feel good about yourself and your surroundings. And when you feel good with your surroundings, you in turn, are going to pass that onto another community member.

"Hopefully, one of these fine days — again I’m optimistic — our community will live in peace and harmony."

There’s no quick fix for TB, a medical illness propagated by non-medical factors such as overcrowded houses and poor health. The failure to address the root causes of TB explains why the disease has been a scourge in northern First Nations communities since the turn of the last century.

Health officials recognized as early as the 1930s that poor living conditions and cramped housing on reserves contributed to the high rates of illness and the spread of diseases such as TB. While medical experts have warned for years that ignoring the problem could have disastrous consequences, red flags went unheeded, and the result has left northern communities with high rates of chronic illnesses, infectious diseases and widespread social problems that trickle down to all parts of the province.

Experts say a solution is far overdue, and the TB problem and its root causes can’t be ignored for another century.

"It’s definitely a disease we need to pay attention to, because you ignore TB at your own peril," said Dr. Michael Gardham, director of infection prevention and control at Toronto’s University Health Network, the country’s largest research hospital.

"You really don’t want to screw with the disease because it will turn around and bite you."

Moodie is not alone in thinking that solving the problem of overcrowded, disease-ridden houses is a good first step.

The northern community of 4,000 is about a 45-minute drive west of Thompson. There’s a shortage of close to 300 houses, and as many as 15 people live together in some of the rundown houses spread across the reserve.

The community has had recurring problems with TB — largely due to poor housing and a rare immune disorder among band members that halted a vaccination program to protect children from the disease.

But solving a major housing shortage is no easy feat in places such as Nelson House, where hope and desperation too often live side-by-side.

Houses are spread across the large reserve and vary in nicknames as much as they do in upkeep. In Dog Point, residents have neatly kept fences around their tidy bungalows. Houses along the lakefront in the mysteriously named "RC" neighbourhood do, too, even though houses across the street have broken windows and need repair.

Take a wrong turn in Westwood and you’ll end up in Hillside. It earned the nickname the Bronx, for its roughneck nature and ramshackle homes. Paint peels off these houses with boarded-up windows and torched, broken-down trucks in the yard. An aura of gloom hangs in the air here, and groups of teens roam the sandy streets in packs in the late afternoon.

Moodie’s plan centres on getting banks to lease the land to an individual who qualifies for a mortgage. Once they sign on the dotted line, all the renovations and repairs are up to the homeowner, which would save the band thousands of dollars.

Moodie said they’re toying with an idea akin to Habitat for Humanity for residents who don’t qualify for a mortgage. The housing board has already set aside money for next year to help people build their own houses. He said people can cut down trees to mill into lumber and the band will help with the rest.

The idea bucks the current system that stipulates reserve residents can’t get mortgages. Today, First Nations rely on funding from Indian and Northern Affairs Canada to build new houses and maintain water systems, schools and roads. Many communities complain that leaves them with a shortfall of cash to keep up with the demand for new construction and repair existing houses.

It’s an idea some residents are excited about, and Moodie is eager to share the draft plan with other Manitoba First Nations.

"I think that’s a very good idea to own your own home," said Norma Spence, who usually has 12 or more people living in her house. "Maybe that way people will take care of their homes more, instead of a band house where people will punch holes in the walls or write on the walls."

Spence said she tries to take care of the house the best she can, but in the 20 years she’s lived there, the band’s never done any repairs. Mould peppers the walls in the rear of the house, and clear tape covers a broken ceiling fan.

The spread of TB is always a concern. The entire family had to be tested when Spence’s husband was hospitalized in Winnipeg with active TB 10 years ago.

"I’ve been putting in applications (for a new home), and my daughter has been putting in (applications) for renovations. But they all go to File 13, they say — the garbage," Spence said.

Spence isn’t the only person sick of waiting for others to repair her house.

George Culley and Matilda Lobster took action and abandoned their mould-ridden house four months ago, after they both felt sick. Black mould snakes through the baseboards, cracks and walls of their house, and the pungent stench from the sewer that frequently backs up hangs in the air. George is taking medication to cure his sleeping TB, and said the nurses told him the house may be the cause of his health problems.

"It just got hard breathing and everything so we moved out," George said.

Initially, the couple moved into a broken-down school bus in their front yard to wait for the band to repair their house. George installed a wood stove and had propane on hand so they could cook food inside the bus. Last month, George and Matilda uprooted 12 kilometres down the highway and started living in an old cabin George built by hand years ago. The cabin is secluded, shielded by trees down by the shores of Footprint Lake. Broken-down cars, camp stoves and barrels are scattered in the yard, near a white tent and picnic table where the family gathers to eat.

The couple’s children and grandchildren routinely sleep here to get away from their own cramped houses, which are infested with ants. Their son-in-law sleeps in a blue tent on the lawn, and the grandchildren crowd into bunk beds inside the tiny cottage. They hang their wet socks and mittens on a tree branch that hangs above the wood stove.

Matilda said she hopes their house is fixed before winter, since the cabin isn’t big enough for 10 people to live in for months in harsh cold. It might be their only option, however, due to the shortage of houses on the reserve.

"It’s been months and months and months," George said. "Three or four months ago, they promised to like repair it, eh? And then just basically, we just kept hearing this excuse."

Moodie is convinced the housing problem can be solved by community residents, and that the new plan will restore the reserve’s sense of pride and independence. Nothing is impossible, said Moodie, and the way he sees it is, it’s only a matter of time before enthusiasm spreads at the grassroots level and affects big changes.

"We could start thinking outside the box," he said.

"It is achievable when you put great minds to work."

jen.skerritt@freepress.mb.ca