 |
 Mary Simon, President of the Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami at her Ottawa office. (CP/Jonathan Hayward) |
OTTAWA (CP) - The closest hospital to the tiny Arctic village where Mary Simon grew up was a long flight south to Montreal.
Now freshly elected as the top political voice for Canada's Inuit, Simon gazed down at her left foot as she described what passed for health care when she was young.
A nasty scar runs the width of polished toes just above the black leather bow of her sandal. That's where a kid playing with an axe landed on her like a chopping block. She was 10 years old.
"I was accident-prone," Simon recalled with an understatement that conjures scraped knees, not a foot cut nearly in half.
Simon's skin was stapled together by the only nurse serving her hometown of Kuujjuaq, meaning "Great River" in Inuktitut, on the Koksoak River deep in northern Quebec.
Simon, now 58 and the new president of Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami - "Inuit are united in Canada" - never got surgery for damaged tendons. She still can't fully move her toes.
"I remember not being able to walk for a very long time," says the second eldest of eight kids born to a white fur trader for the Hudson's Bay Company and an Inuit mother.
That brand of casual toughness has served Simon well through a long career in aboriginal politics.
Her priorities will include young people, education, health and development during her three-year stint leading the group that speaks nationally for more than 56,000 Inuit scattered over the Northwest Territories, Nunavut, northern Quebec and Labrador.
International eyes are on that vast swath of varied terrain as never before. The Arctic is seen as a kind of last economic frontier of coveted natural gas, minerals and oil reserves. Warming temperatures and melting ice raise future shipping prospects and potential sovereignty battles.
There are also chronic social issues: violent crime, addiction, and high suicide rates ravage many communities while most Inuit kids drop out of high school.
Against this dramatic backdrop, the desire for prosperity must be weighed against values of conservation, respect for the land and the interconnection of all living things - beliefs that have sustained the Inuit for centuries.
Still, the Arctic has come a long way.
Simon's hometown, for example, not only has a hospital but is now a bustling transportation hub known as a gateway to the True North.
There is still much to do, she said of her new job that is very much an extension of work that has consumed her for decades. She is a former ambassador for circumpolar affairs and a founder of the eight-country Arctic Council, for example.
She also held a host of positions with Inuit political groups after launching her career as a producer and announcer for CBC's northern service.
Decisions made in the next few years will profoundly affect future Inuit generations.
"The new government is of concern to us," she said, referring to Tory backpedalling on the Kyoto pact to cut greenhouse gas emissions blamed for climate change.
Then there's the 10-year Kelowna agreement reached last fall between aboriginal leaders, the previous Liberal government and every premier.
The Tories have since said they support the goal of raising native living standards - but they gutted $5.1 billion in promised Kelowna cash.
"The prime minister, whether a Liberal or not, they were representing the Crown," Simon said. "There should be some honour and commitment tied to that."
That's not the sort of blunt assessment that Jim Prentice appreciates. The federal Indian Affairs minister wrote to a weekly newspaper in Nunavut last week expressing his surprise to see Simon "starting off her term with statements that do not reflect the spirit of partnership and co-operation that has resulted in tremendous success to date."
He was referring to a recent report Simon gave in Alaska on Inuit successes and disappointments in the last four years.
Prentice likes to say that $300 million for affordable housing in the territories actually surpasses Kelowna promises.
Simon calls it a start, but not nearly enough to make a dent in the overcrowded, crumbling housing stock that is a direct source of social dysfunction.
Bleak living conditions only add to the misery endured by Inuit kids, she says.
"There's way too many young people that are under a lot of stress. We need to really look at how we can change that."
