Displaced residents find relief, austerity at Saddlebrook Camp
HIGH RIVER — Last month, Natalina Katas finally had all her documents in order and was preparing to apply for Canadian citizenship.
“I have been waiting 14 years for this,” says the 28-year-old native of Sudan. “Now, I have to start all over.”
Since the flood swept through her apartment in this city’s hard-hit Sunrise neighbourhood, Katas has been getting used to starting over — and over.
“We’ve been living at the University of Calgary,” she says as her six-year-old son Joseph plays with his new stuffed bear he named Lola. “Now we have another new home, at least for a while.”
On Wednesday afternoon, Katas is one of the first off the buses depositing the initial batch of residents at what is known as Saddlebrook Camp, a makeshift trailer community quickly assembled just north of town for displaced flood victims. As she looks around the site, Katas gives a one handed thumbs up ac- companied by a quick flash of white teeth.
The next look on her face, though, tells a different story.
Scanning the desolate landscape where wooden platforms serve as sidewalks and the noise and dust of scores of tractors and trucks blanket the air, she instinctively winces and holds Joseph closer.
“It’s OK, it’s OK,” she says just before being led to her new temporary home in one of the trailers.
“I like High River because it’s a small town, so friendly. Maybe this will be a nice small town.”
So far, it’s not looking promising. Standing beside Katas under a hot July sun with not a tree in sight, I can’t help but be reminded of my visit to Kabul, Afghanistan this time last year, a trip that included a two-night stay at multinational base Camp Phoenix.
Saddlebrook has a similar frontier town feel, with all the charm and warmth that such hastily assembled communities can muster.
Still, it is a practical immediate solution to the crisis, as well as an improvement for those who have been bouncing from one temporary accommodation to the next all over southern Alberta.
On this day, a steady trickling of buses and
I like High River because it’s a small town, so friendly. Maybe this will be a nice small town
NATALINA KATAS
vehicles pull up to Saddlebrook’s welcome centre, where a group of smiling volunteers are waiting to greet them. Over the coming days, more than 300 newcomers are expected, with a possible town of 1,200 souls rising up over the summer.
Katas invites me along to see her new home. However, I’m stopped by an official who says for this day, the town is off-limits to journalists, despite many of us receiving emails from High Riverites to come and observe on their behalf.
Only those registering as residents, or employees of Outland Camps, the company overseeing the project, can enter.
When I check in with Kathleen Grange, a spokeswoman with the province’s municipal affairs department, she tells me that “I can’t physically stop you” from entering, which makes sense since she’s on the highway many miles away. Yet one blustery security guard, who barks at me for moving a foot closer to the trailers, makes it clear that any challenge to the “suggestion” we keep our distance may end in an unpleasant confrontation.
While things get a little testy, Francis Botacion is all smiles as he surveys the austere surroundings of a camp that will include two restaurants and a recreation centre.
“It was way too far away from work,” the 32-year-old, an industrial butcher at the nearby Cargill plant, says of his most recent home at the University of Calgary. “I am not excited about this place, but it will make life a bit easier.”
Botacion, a native of the Philippines here on a temporary worker’s permit, was renting a house with four roommates and fellow Cargill employees when the floodwaters filled his basement.
“I never experienced calamity before, even back in the Philippines,” he says. “It’s been a tough adjustment.”
Adjusting to his latest digs, he says, will be a lot easier with warm showers and access to wireless networks.
“I want a nice bed so I can sleep,” he says as he heads to his trailer. “The government here is good to help us, it’s much better here than my own country.”
For her part, Natalina Katas hopes other children will arrive soon, so Joseph has someone to play with.
“We will make the best of it,” she says, adding that once settled in, she’ll start the arduous process of getting new identification documents for her citizenship application. “It’s all OK.”
And with that, she gives me one last thumbs up before disappearing into the sea of trailers.