Waubgeshig Rice - Moon of the Crusted Snow

Aileen finished with a strong miigwech, and a smattering of responses rolled through the audience as they thanked the elder for opening the meeting. Candace helped her back to her chair while Evan finished smudging the last few people lined up in front of him.

That was Terry’s cue. He cleared his throat, wiped his palms on the thighs of his jeans, and stood up. He thanked Aileen for the prayer, and Evan for the smudge. He then thanked everyone who showed up to the all-members meeting.

“As you all know by now,” he started, “we’re having some issues with the infrastructure here in the community. If you didn’t know, you must be living under a rock.” The feeble joke got a chuckle out of some people, and he relaxed a bit. He pushed it. “Anyone who’s still living under a rock is buried under three feet of snow by now!” Louder laughter followed. A hint of tension lingered in some stoic faces, but most of it had dissipated.

His voice became more serious. “Last Wednesday, our satellite service went out. That knocked out TV and internet. Most of you noticed. We got a lot of visitors down here at the band office that day. Here we just thought you were all coming to wish Walter a happy birthday,” he giggled and looked down at his cousin, and the crowd chuckled again. “These things happen, so we gave it a day. Sometime in there, the phone lines went down for some reason too. When all those things still weren’t working on Thursday, we tried to call our service provider down in Gibson with our off-grid sat phone. But that wasn’t working either. We figured we’d wait another day just to see if it came on.

“Then sometime overnight Thursday, the power went out. It’s the first time we’ve lost power like that since we connected to the grid three years ago. We sent our guys to check the nearest transformers. They looked fine but they’re dead. There’s nothing coming in from the dam. And because we have no communication, we’ve had no updates.”

Parkas rustled as people whispered to neighbours and family. From their place at the front of the room, Terry and the councillors could see the anxiety building in the gym.

“Don’t worry, we’re confident it’ll come back on,” he quickly uttered. “They spent a hundred million dollars getting this line to us. The longer we go without power, the worse it’ll look on the province. So you can be sure there are people down in the big smoke and at the dam working on this right now. We just don’t know exactly what the problem is yet.”

The rest of the councillors sat looking out at their relatives and friends. Each attempted to appear confident in the uneasy confusion.

“On Saturday, we turned on the generators so you could put the lights and heat back on,” Terry reminded them. “We wanted to give you a chance to keep working on whatever you still needed to do before winter. Stuff like arranging your food in your freezers and bringing wood inside. Looks like we did that just in time too. We’re keeping the generators on for the time being, but we still need you to conserve energy. Only turn on lights in the room you’re in. Don’t use your electric oven if you don’t have to. If you’re gonna watch DVDs, please do it sparingly.

“It’s been a long time since the generators ran all winter. The diesel tanks are only half full. We’re supposed to get some new shipments in once the service road is iced over for the truckers. We ordered maintenance supplies last month and that delivery is supposed to happen sometime in the next couple weeks. Same time as the next food truckload for the Northern. But hopefully by then, we’ll be back on the grid.”

“What the fuck, Terry?” a voice shouted from the back. Evan’s much older cousin Mark angrily pulled his toque off his head and stood up. “So we just gotta wait around and hope this shit returns to normal?”

“We’re just asking you to be patient, Mark,” the chief replied. The lights shimmered off Mark’s scalp that showed through his thinning brown hair. “The plans are in place. The generators are running. That’s what they’re there for. Emergencies. They’re doing what they’re supposed to right now.”

A soft murmur emanated from the crowd. Evan couldn’t tell if they were appeased or confused, or both.

“So that’s why we want you to conserve,” Terry continued. “At regular usage, we estimate that we’ll run out of diesel by February. We don’t think that’ll happen anyway. But to be on the safe side, don’t use too much power.”

The crowd’s restlessness grew. They had come for answers and were getting very few, only directions and orders. He’s losing them , thought Evan.

“So, because of that,” Terry explained, “the school and the band office will be closed for the rest of the week. We’ll do our part here too. There will be rotating staff to help with any problems. Public works is on duty all week. Until phone service is back, you’ll just have to come down here and ask if you need or want to know something. In the meantime, keep your wood stoves and furnaces going. We want you to stay warm. We also don’t want your pipes to freeze.”

Terry wrapped up and Walter took over, explaining the services that would still be operational, like ploughing, home visits for maintenance, the grocery store, the water treatment plant, and the health station for emergency medication. The crowd thinned as the meeting wound down. When it came time for questions before wrapping up, only about a dozen people remained, scattered behind Aileen, who sat stoically in the front row. Her poise appeased Evan. He noticed an easy smile on her face. She’s lived through it all , he thought. If she’s not worried, then we shouldn’t be.

The leftover stew simmered on the stovetop. Evan stirred it with a wooden spoon as Nicole looked over his shoulder and nodded her approval.

He opened the fridge, absurdly pleased that the inside light still flashed on and absently checked the shelves. There was a big tub of margarine on the top shelf, beside a jug of nearly expired milk. Milk had become slightly cheaper with the opening of the service road and now it wasn’t always condensed milk on their table.

“I should probably go to the store,” he declared, staring into the fridge. “Looks like we need more carrots. And potatoes. Could use some milk too. Anything you can think of?”

“Anything in cans. Get eggs if they have some too.”

“If I miss anything you can just go back tomorrow. It’ll be another reason to get the kids out of the house.”

The snow had let up during the meeting the day before. The roads were clear but slippery in spots. The sky remained overcast and the horizon blended with the snow in the gaps between the trees. Evan noticed snowmobile tracks in the ditches along the side of the road.

He turned right at the outdoor rink and didn’t notice any activity there. Maybe I’ll check with Walter to see if he wants us to flood it for the kids , he thought. The homes on the route leading out of the community to the service road were built much more tightly together. A high snowbank had built up at the end of the row of homes. Heavily bundled children climbed and slid down the snow on garbage bags and plastic sheets. Evan pushed down the window button to hear their chatter and laughter. It was hard to recognize the little faces concealed by toques and scarves, but he waved enthusiastically and they all waved back. He heard a distinct “uncle, uncle!” but couldn’t see or make out who it was. The kids aren’t worried , he reminded himself.

At the end of this road was the Northern Trading Post, owned by the biggest grocery chain in the country, who had a monopoly in First Nations in the North. Not only was this general store the only outlet for food, it also supplied all the hardware, household supplies, and other domestic necessities. While prices were better than they had been before the road was built, they were still outrageous compared to what people paid in the South. A two-litre carton of milk usually cost ten dollars. Sometimes it went up to fifteen.