Recevez nos reportages chaque semaine! Du vrai journalisme démocratique, indépendant et sans pub. Découvrez le «making-of» de nos reportages, le pourquoi et le comment.
L’actualité à travers le dialogue.Recevez nos reportages chaque semaine! Du vrai journalisme démocratique, indépendant et sans pub. Découvrez le «making-of» de nos reportages, le pourquoi et le comment.
L’actualité à travers le dialogue.Recevez nos reportages chaque semaine! Du vrai journalisme démocratique, indépendant et sans pub. Découvrez le «making-of» de nos reportages, le pourquoi et le comment.
Receive our newsletter every week to discover the “making-of” of our reports!
Un problème est survenu lors de l'envoi.
Contact
5/28/2020

From resistance to mutual aid

Reading time:
5 Minutes
Local Journalism Initiative
Reporter:
ILLUSTRATOR:
EMAIL
Support this work
Note de transparence

A member of the Wet'suwet'en Nation, whose territory is in British Columbia, Marlene Hale has lived in Quebec for the past few years. Since last winter, she has been organizing demonstrations in support of her community and speaking out to denounce the realization of the GasLink project, which would cross the territory of her nation and which has not been approved by the hereditary leaders of the community. But the pandemic gave him another cause to defend: that of the mental health of his community during lockdown. According to her, the health crisis is particularly difficult for Aboriginal people. “We are used to living in communities, in families; it is important to maintain that,” she explains.

With her listening, her online cooking classes and traditional Aboriginal medicine, Marlene Hale has thus transformed a movement of political mobilization into a movement of mutual aid and solidarity for Aboriginal seniors. Zoom has become one of the most popular platforms for remote working, but the cook and activist, with the help of friends, has turned it into a community space through the Love in the Time of COVID-19: Solidarity and Support for the Elderly webinars. Since the start of lockdown, declared at the end of March, it has brought together dozens of people from across the country every Friday for two hours in its virtual seminars.

“At the beginning, it was mainly to ensure political mobilization, she explains. It was a way to continue to express our support for the Wet'suwet'en Nation and Camp Unist'ot'en despite the lockdown.” Construction work on the Coastal GasLink pipeline is not in lockdown and was able to continue during the spring. The purpose of the virtual sessions quickly changed. “We realized that seniors were the biggest victims of the crisis,” continues Marlene Hale. So we reoriented the webinars to show our solidarity with them. Over the weeks, it became a platform for mental health and the sharing of traditional medicine.”

The webinars are conducted in English, but Francophones can attend without fear of the language barrier. “We have an interpreter, and there is a live translation into French,” says Ms. Hale. We are becoming more and more organized.” She also encourages young people in the community to take care of their bodies as well as their minds. As a chef by profession, she offers online cooking classes to encourage young Aboriginal people to eat well. “I think it is important to remember that you have to take care of your whole being, so to eat well, to go outside, in nature, to move. That's how you take care of yourself,” she says.

Lockdown, an ordeal

“It's absolutely terrible what's going on,” we Marlene Hale from her home in Les Cèdres, near Montreal. Recently, five people around him committed suicide. “It's a difficult time. Isolation is painful for a lot of people, she says. I am seeing a lot more distress and depression.” The Ministry of Indigenous Services's Hope for Wellness Helpline has been under attack since the start of the pandemic. Compared to April 2019, the number of calls more than doubled in April this year. “Advisors were added to each shift to respond to the increase in call volume,” said a ministry spokesperson.

Marlene Hale's webinars are an opportunity for some participants to talk about their emotional state. “Everyone is there to give each other advice and support. There's a lot of spirituality and a lot of positivity that comes out of it,” says Ms. Hale. The webinars have led to the creation of a strong community, she notes. And sometimes it even saves lives. “Recently, a young man told us about his suicidal thoughts and how badly he was doing,” says Marlene Hale. I asked him if he had tobacco to purify himself. He told me no. So Barbara went to bring it to his house for him. He is better.”

“I also gave him seeds so he could grow some himself and always have them,” adds Barbara Diabo, a Kanien'kehá:ka (Mohawk) from Kahnawake. In many indigenous communities in North America, tobacco is an important plant that is used, for example, to purify sacred objects and people who participate in ceremonies. “By burning tobacco, the smoke can carry our messages to the creator,” explains Ms. Diabo. “But it's okay not to know all the rituals and protocols around it,” she continues. What is important is the intention behind it, a good and positive intention.”

Plants are used for spirituality, but also for health. Marlene Hale's sister Charlotte takes advantage of the webinars to teach how to use plants from the Wet'suwet'en territory to make infusions with various properties, among other things. “Our mother, Marlene and I, used these teas regularly,” she notes. “These days, traditions are so important,” says Marlene Hale. “These days, traditions are so important,” says Marlene Hale. I see how it makes people feel better.” Social intervention worker Jacinthe Connolly, Ilnu from Mashteuiatsh, also sees the benefits of traditional rites. “I myself have been locked up for two months,” she said. I have my rituals every morning with my sage and pipe.” In her community, she notes that lockdown is difficult for some people, but “traditional spirituality is for everyone,” she points out. “You don't have to wait until you're in distress to practice it; it's not a magic wand either,” she adds. As session leader, Marlene Hale welcomes with smile at each participant.

Her traditional drum accompanies her and punctuates the discussions. “Marlene's warm welcome is so appreciated,” exclaims one participant who lives in Vancouver. Another, of Métis origin, who also lives in Vancouver, agrees: “I am very grateful for these moments. It is wonderful to be able to hear from others and to share with everyone.”

Solidarity with seniors

Seniors always have an important place in webinars. At the beginning of each session, Barbara Diabo lights a candle that contains tobacco. “It's to send our prayers for our seniors and those who currently take care of them,” she explains. A young non-Indigenous participant is thrilled with the space given to seniors in Marlene Hale's webinars. “It's a nice intergenerational space, there's no age discrimination; it's one of the things that keeps me coming back every week,” he says. The same participant said he was particularly worried about the situation in long-term care homes in Canada. “Unfortunately, what we are currently seeing is the result of problems that have been building up over the years. These centers are neglected and underfunded,” he regrets.

In parallel with the webinars, a crowdfunding campaign is being organized in order to help seniors. “[The] COVID-19 crisis has demonstrated the inability of our society to support seniors [...] Through mutual support, we can overcome our feelings of collective powerlessness,” can we read on the GoFundMe page dedicated to this fundraiser.

A community beyond borders

The majority of participants are from Canada, “but the solidarity is international,” says Marlene Hale. Geoffrey Kamese, originally from Uganda, is also one of the regular participants in the webinars. “He has to stay up until the early morning to be able to talk to us,” says Ms. Hale. It is great to have an African perspective on the pandemic, and to be able to share how we are dealing with it.”

  1. Kamese reports that lockdown and distance measures are painful for many Ugandans. “We too rely on our solidarity and on our traditional indigenous medicines,” he says. Mr. Kamese's son recently fell ill, and the virtual seminars have been a source of comfort for him. “It makes all the difference to know that we are supported and that we are in people's prayers, even at a distance,” he said.

Marlene Hale wants this online community to continue to exist beyond the COVID-19 pandemic. “We are there for each other. We are a family now.”

Current events through dialogue.
News Through dialogue.