■ KEITH GEREIN,
Tensions mounting among campers, surrounding neighbourhood and police
For all the controversy swirling around it, Camp Pekiwewin comes across as a pretty chill place, at least when I visited one afternoon this week.
Signs at the entrance demand that very vibe, declaring, “This is neutral territory. Any violence and you will be asked to leave.”
Rather than a haphazard mess, there’s a structure to the camp.
The 130-plus tents on the site have been organized into little communities. A small kitchen prepares food, while a booth by the entrance accepts donations, and a medical centre offers first aid and harm-reduction supplies.
At the geographical and spiritual centre are a teepee and a fire pit, where people congregate for ceremonies and to swap jokes and stories.
Many here talk about the sacredness of the land in this part of Rossdale, which has served as an Indigenous gathering place and burial ground since long before European settlers arrived.
Still, beneath this serene exterior — the camp reportedly becomes more active at night, requiring double the number of staff and volunteers — I sense a powder keg is developing, with tensions mounting among residents, the surrounding neighbourhood, police and others.
In some ways, this is by design. Residents and organizers are making a stand here.
The idea is ramp up the pressure on the city and province to finally end their “ping-pong game,” and come up with solutions for the community before freezing temperatures return or an outbreak of COVID -19 emerges, organizer Victoria Guzman says.
“This is another test for our community who don’t have a community to stay in,” adds Pekiwewin resident Josh Ice. “If we have to be here, I guess we’ll be here.”
So far, city officials have responded constructively toward meeting at least some of the resident’s immediate demands, including help with garbage pickup and funding for portable toilets.
However, taking such action to stabilize the camp isn’t going to sit well with everyone.
While some Rossdale neighbours support the camp, I have heard from others angry at the sudden appearance of this new community that came with no warning or consultation. Police officers have also been in touch, suggesting serious issues are inevitable any time a tent city is allowed to develop.
For their part, those at the camp say they are the victims of mistreatment. Though Pekiwewin was in part a response to the Kinsmen and
Expo Centre closures, it is also intended as a place of protection for those afraid of police, some of whom say they been subjected to abuse or had previous camp sites forcibly dismantled.
Making things more tense, organizers believe some Rossdale residents have hired private security guards who occasionally circle the camp.
A group of white supremacists showed up one day, and this week some men came by in the middle of the night, shone a bright light on the camp and threw bottles at the residents, Guzman said.
In short, this is a situation likely to get increasingly intolerable the longer it goes.
That said, whatever pressure comes from police, politicians or prospective vigilantes, persuading camp residents to move may prove difficult, unless they can be convinced better options are available. And right now, that prospect is being met with a lot of pessimism.
In a column last week I argued that the closure of the Expo Centre was both unnecessary and unwise, especially without alternative accommodations ready.
The province apparently found the Expo too expensive, and so is now working with social service agencies and the city to find facilities with the space to offer comparable amenities — though clearly at a cheaper cost.
In that vein, $48 million was announced to continue services around the province, and it appears the government’s intention is to hand a large chunk of that to faith-based agencies, like the Hope Mission and Mustard Seed, with close ties to the UCP.
Such agencies do fine work, but also have some drawbacks.
Among other issues, members of the LGBTQ community have found the shelters unwelcoming at times, and there have also being grumblings about a lack of accommodation for couples, 6 a.m. evictions, risks to personal safety and property, and the potential to be subjected to unwanted religious lessons.
Though such agencies have vowed to step up their game during the pandemic and provide more 24/7 services, giving so much responsibility to organizations that aren’t entirely trusted by their prospective clients is hardly ideal.
But beyond the pandemic, the camp is also a statement to authorities that certain longterm issues can fester no longer.
Some of the group’s demands, such as free transit and scrapping specific bylaws, are likely unworkable, while other calls to action seem more achievable. Ultimately, the city could make considerable headway by showing that the time and effort devoted to hearings into policing was not just lip service, but will actually lead to improved relations between police and vulnerable people, along with substantive investments in social services and infrastructure.
As for the province, that government needs to get over whatever hangups it has and come forward urgently with funding for housing in Edmonton rather than just dumping money into shelters.
The name Pekiwewin means “coming home” in Cree.
Now the pressure is on our governments to live up to that ideal, and ensure residents have somewhere safe to go.