Tackling hunger in the North
New attention on Nunavut’s food problem may bring change
“We have some momentum on this issue.” ED MCKENNA, DIRECTOR OF NUNAVUT’S ANTI- POVERTY SECRETARIAT
IQALUIT, Nuna vut — The lineup for Iqaluit’s soup kitchen stretches out the door, down a flight of wooden steps and onto the icy street. Dozens of people wait patiently in -40 C cold.
Inside, Cathy Sawer stirs an industrial-sized pot of chicken soup, enough for 200 servings. The 65-yearold and her fellow volunteers have been in the kitchen since 8 a.m., preparing a lunch that will be the only meal of the day for many of those waiting outside.
“You wish you could always do more, but there’s only so many hours in a day,” Sawer said.
Nunavut’s long-standing struggle with sky-high food prices and widespread hunger has prompted intense scrutiny of late for both the federal and territorial governments. Protests have popped up across the territory; even the UN has weighed in.
In the wake of a November report from the federal auditor general critiquing the government’s foodsubsidy program, footage emerged of Rankin Inlet residents foraging in the town dump, triggering howls in the House of Commons.
In the middle of it all was Nunavut MP and federal Environment Minister Leona Aglukkaq, who at the height of the controversy was plainly seen reading a newspaper in the Commons instead of fielding questions about the food problem.
Aglukkaq, who eventually apologized, insists hunger in the North has been exaggerated.
But there’s a sense in Nunavut that with all the fresh attention on an old problem, things may finally change — albeit slowly.
“We have some momentum on this issue,” said Ed McKenna, director of Nunavut’s Anti-Poverty Secretariat. “But it’s going to take time to see that translated to concrete work.”
Food insecurity — defined as a lack of access to healthy, affordable food — is not a new phenomenon in Nunavut. Even the traditional Inuit diet of caribou, fish, birds, whales, seal and berries left people vulnerable to hunger pains if they couldn’t find plants or wild animals to eat. But the problem is as persistent as ever, despite decades of government programs, subsidies, a renewed emphasis on hunting, and community spirit.
People turn to families and friends when they can’t put food on the table. Others go to Iqaluit’s soup kitchen or to the food bank on the two days a month that it’s open. Those who can, hunt. And yes, some scour the local dump for scraps of food.
The food bank, soup kitchen and other social services mean Iqaluit — located on the south coast of Baffin Island — is better off than Nunavut’s other, farflung communities. The dump, on fire until just a few months ago, is fenced to discourage scroungers.
But the capital is still a more expensive place to live than other parts of Canada. In the winter, everything must be flown in by aircraft. Cargo can also be brought in by boat, which takes longer but generally costs less, although the shipping season is limited because the water freezes.
The high cost of living has forced more and more families to turn to the local food bank.
Stephen Wallick, chairman of the board of the Niqinik Nuatsivik Food Bank, said it started out in 2001 serving about 30 families. Today, he said, as many as 120 families come looking for food and supplies every two weeks.
In those 13 years, the sparsely populated territory has been expanding steadily. Eighty per cent of Nunavut’s 36,585 people are Inuit, and a third of them are under the age of 18, making it Canada’s youngest population.
At the same time, the employment situation has improved only marginally. Among the working-age population, just half have a job — about the same proportion as a decade ago.
Nutrition North — the $60-million program in last month’s auditor general’s report — was supposed to help ease Nunavut’s foodprice problem. But Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development Canada can’t say whether retailers are passing the food subsidy on to consumers, the audit concluded.
The 2014 Nunavut Food Price Survey found food prices across Nunavut dropped four per cent from last year. But people still pay an average of $16 for a kilogram of chicken in Nunavut compared to $7 in the rest of Canada. The average cost of 2.5 kilograms of flour in Nunavut is $13 — about $5 everywhere else.
The last Inuit Health Survey found nearly 70 per cent of Inuit households in Nunavut are food insecure — meaning they lack access to safe, healthy food. That’s more than eight times the national average and is among the highest rates for an indigenous population in a developed country. Sources: The Canadian Press, Statistics Canada, the Caledon Institute of Social Policy, 2014 Nunavut Food Price Survey, Inuit Health Survey.