THE BEST OF SOCIETY ON DISPLAY IN GATINEAU
People volunteer in droves, offering help to those affected by flooding
There were no soldiers filling sandbags or heaving them into trucks on Rue Saint-Louis on Monday morning.
Just regular people, of all sorts and of all ages, shovelling from two big piles of sand into green bags and hefting them into the backs of pickup trucks. Civil society at its best. Before I’d even got my boots on, someone drove by, asking if this was the spot to help out.
A steady stream of people, some lugging shovels, made their way to loading area to help.
An efficient passing line had sprung up to lift the bags into the trucks, a sort of organized chaos that seemed absent any particular leader or organizer.
Somehow, everyone seemed to know where to go.
Beyond the crowds — children perched atop the sand piles — the streets were flooded in every direction. A Sea-Doo was tethered; people were coming and going in boats. The smell of egg sandwiches drifted through the air as a man went through the crowd, handing them out to the helpers — a carnival of charity.
I connected with Phil Pilon, who, having heard they needed trucks, had driven in from Stittsville to help. We lifted bags into the bed of his truck until it was full, and I hopped into the back seat. Paul Brigas of Gatineau, who knew Pilon, though they hadn’t seen each other in some time, chatted in French in the passenger seat.
I had no idea where we were going.
Hazard lights blinking, we wound our way slowly through Gatineau, along rue JacquesCartier, where, after driving through water several inches deep, we unloaded the bags into a big pile, with the help of people already there.
Moments later, a woman came out with a tray of Styrofoam cups full of soup.
“One thing we never run out of is food,” Pilon noted.
We didn’t stay to see what the plan for the bags was; our threeman delivery crew headed back to Saint-Louis and Rue Moreau, loaded up and headed back out. When we found our next destination, we unloaded. I dodged an errant sandbag tossed from the truck. “C’est dangereux,” someone mused. Once we’d finished, a man said, “Merci, mon homme,” shaking my hand. I asked him if this house was his place. No, Luc Asselin said, he’d come from Perkins to help.
While no doubt there were many from Gatineau who were pitching in, it was clear plenty of folks had come from further afield. Back at the loading zone, Pilon took off to pick his kids up from school. I met up with Citizen photographer Wayne Cuddington, and after he’d taken some photographs of us loading yet another pickup truck, we clambered in.
The driver: Richard Sabourin from Thurso. Employees from the company he works for, Irrigation Lemieux, had taken the day to help; their big white pickups were rumbling to and from the loading area. Again, just here to help out.
When we got to our destination this time, it was pretty clear people were still worried. The water seemed safely low, not even lapping onto the road. But, considering the speed with which the flooding happened last week, it seemed only logical to prepare for the worst.
Fifteen minutes later, we’d hand-bombed the sandbags and assembled a foot-tall buffer around part of the lawn of a home. I was rather sore.
“I won’t have to go to the gym today,” I quipped to one of the men there who — providing an excuse I’m inclined to take — suggested I won’t need to go for the week.
These hours in Gatineau showed the best of Canadians, Ontarians, Quebecers. By now, some had lost everything. Many were at no risk themselves, but came to help. In the cold and the snow, there was plenty of laughter and smiling as everyone worked to help those who needed it.
The best of Canadian society, on display and working hard.