The Independent

Volume 7 Issue 1

December 2011

St. John’s, Newfoundland & Labrador

WWW.THEINDEPENDENT.CA

Like a drunkard on a spree Page 6 

Getting Recognized Page 5 

Out For A Row. Photo by Gavin Simms.

From Ecuador to Labrador Canadian mining companies under fire

S

antiago Escobar is originally from Ecuador and now lives in Canada, but it’s only partly by choice.

“I denounced corporate corruption by Chevron, so now my life is in danger,” he explains simply.

He’s one of the organizers of the third international Mining Injustice Conference, organized by the Mining Injustice Solidarity Network, a Toronto-based group aiming to raise awareness about the impact of Canadian mining companies abroad.

Escobar attributes the growth of activism partly to the increasing activities of Canadian mining companies in countries like his own.

By Hans Rollmann

“There’s a concern regarding the Canadian companies because we have seen that their record is not a good record,” he explains. “And also their environmental impact is very negative. They pollute the rivers, they pollute the soil, they pollute everything. And after the exploitation of these Canadian companies, always we have seen displacement of communities. We have seen violence, a lot of drugs, a lot of sexual exploitation. It’s not a good thing for our communities…we’re trying to stop the entrance of the big Canadian companies.”

Communities have tried engaging, he says, but to no avail.

“They don’t listen to us. They only listen

to the market. That’s all that they listen to, all that they follow.”

He’s quick to emphasize that they’re not out to stop mining. What the mining justice movement is about, he explains, is giving the power to communities to say yes or no to having mining operations in their backyard.

“We’re not definitively against mining. We want of course better laws for accountability, and we also want the ones who will be affected, to have the right to decide whether to have mining or not to have mining. The most important thing here is what the people want.”

From Labrador to Indonesia Tracy Glynn has seen first-hand what Canadian mining companies do abroad. A long-time mining activist and a campaigner at the New Brunswick Page 7 

This print edition contains TRUNCATED versions of articles which can be seen in their entirety online, WITH ADDITIONAL FEATURES AND MULTIMEDIA, at www.theindependent.ca

WE’RE BACK! I

n fact, we’ve been back for a while now - but if you’re not tuned in to Facebook and Twitter, we don’t blame you for not noticing. That’s why we have taken to the print press one more time to let you know that The Independent has not only been resurrected, but it has taken a giant leap into the future and now calls the internet its home.

“Back from the dead and alive on the web” so to speak.

The first question you probably have is whether this incarnation of The Independent is brought to you by the same crew that published it the last time. It is not. The publishers, writers, photographers, advertisers, deliverers… all moved on after The Independent stopped printing in 2008. Despite its end, the idea of an independent and professional source of media in Newfoundland and Labrador lived on - and now the pink, white, and green flies again under the direction of a new group of young Newfoundlanders and Labradorians.

How this came to be is no short story - but because of the limitations of print, it will have to be (the full story is available on our website, www.theindependent.ca).

After the paper folded for the second time in 2008, the province’s fortunes grew, and some believed that the need for an alternate point of view only grew more important. In 2010, former Independent owner and publisher Brian Dobbin collaborated with young journalism Page 2 

‘... back from the dead and alive on the web’ graduate Emilie Bourque with a plan to revive The Independent, but this time with the future of news media in mind - the internet.

Dobbin and Bourque recruited a new team of writers, reporters, and contributors, and on February 11, 2011 The Independent was officially revived. The publication was launched modestly, using social media to introduce itself. With a positive reception from new and returning readers, the team used the months ahead to refine and improve its product. In the process the project’s reigns were passed on to a small team dedicated to the ideal.

Gavin Simms, Hans Rollmann, and Kieran Hanley now form the close-knit team which works to make The Independent a reality. With the help of a great team of passionate contributors, we aim to make The Independent a fixture in Newfoundland & Labrador.

But the great challenges lie ahead. We are determined to provide media, news, cont’d

from

page

1:

analysis and commentary that’s written and inspired by the people, issues and places of our province. But we need help to do it.

What kind of help? We need bloggers, reviewers, artists, news writers, marketers, and advertisers as passionate about Newfoundland & Labrador as we are. And if you don’t fit that bill, consider a voluntary subscription to The Independent.

Your $30 will go a long way in helping us grow, and you’ll even get a nice Independent calendar out of it. Go to www. theindependent.ca/membership for details.

The internet provides limitless opportunities for interactivity, flexibility, and a chance to tell our stories in a whole new way. And we’re there... with new content every day. Check us out. In the meantime, we might just see you in print again. / Kieran, Hans, Gavin The Independent Team

Plenty Enough?

By Laura Nelson-Hamilton

On a recent trip to a large grocery store in St. John’s, I was met with an ironic scene of plenty within a region that is often considered to be food insecure. According to the United Nations, food insecurity “exists when people do not have adequate physical, social, or economic access to food” (UNFAO 2001). The facts and figures of food insecurity within this province are daunting. There is but a two to three day supply of fresh vegetables on the island at any time; 23.4% of the provincial population experience challenges affording food, clothing and shelter; and there are vastly different purchasing opportunities in northern and rural regions, in comparison to those that exist in St. John’s.

While choices seemingly abound in St. John’s commercial food outlets, most of the foods sold in the province’s grocery stores are not grown here. The Federation of Agriculture estimates that only 2% of agricultural products available in aisles and coolers are sourced in Newfoundland and Labrador.

This has encouraged persons who wish to consume locally produced foods to establish farmers’ markets in various parts of the province. Fresh food stands, speciality stores and outlets located on family farms also provide access to local food.

According to those who have an interest in food security issues, our reliance on imported food concerns all those who live here. During Hurricane Igor, we saw the effects of major storms on people’s food security. When roads in Clarenville were washed out, boats delivered food to communities that lost regular access to food supplies.

During the Port of Montreal lockout, we were also given a glimpse of the sensitive nature of our shipping relationships with other regions. With two-thirds of Oceanex

containers (which carry half of the goods that are sold in Newfoundland, including food) passing through Montreal, July 2010 was a moment of uncertainty about when these goods would arrive, and how they would get here.

In the end, transportation routes were diverted in order to ship containers from Halifax; however, the lockout rang several alarm bells. Increasing local food production and wholesaling would protect us from the potential negative outcomes of such incidents.

For a number of people within this province, grocery stores are not the primary source of food. Economic insufficiency and high food prices intersect in stats on the province’s food bank usage. Food Banks Canada has indicated that the province’s emergency food services are some of the busiest in the country. Gardening activities have also provided Newfoundlanders and Labradoreans with access to fresh produce.

Hunting and fishing continue to supply fresh animal proteins. Those who carry out these activities often share the products with family members, neighbours and friends. Canning, preserving and wild food harvesting activities are also practiced in order to maintain food supplies year-round.

Economic standing and physical location within the province differentially affect one’s purchasing options. While there are many types of food to choose from in the capital city’s largest retail outlets, rural and northern communities do not enjoy such delicious expanse. Grocery stores may be located an hour or more from home, and convenience stores continue to provide necessities in some locales.

As you can see, food insecurity is a complex issue. Food security, however, relates Continued on Page 6 

P.O. Box 28008, 48 Kenmount Rd, St. John’s NL:, A1B 1X0 www.theindependent.ca | editor@theindependent.ca

COLUMNS

Every day our website is updated with the work of our contributors. Meet the team and their columns below.

To Each Their Own Hans Rollmann Examining political issues impacting Newfoundland and Labrador Traditional Voice John Nick Jeddore Written from the perspective of a Mi’kmaw from Miawpukek First Nations, NL 61st Parallel Keith Collier Featuring reflections and observations on life north of the treeline View from the Mainland Brandon Pardy Providing a Labradorian’s perspective on issues facing Newfoundland & Labrador What We’re Making Aimee Wall An eclectic insight into what’s happening in the arts in our province Through the Fog Kieran Hanley Aiming to cut through the rhetoric of politics impacting Newfoundland Acid & Base Peter Hynes Fits of profane pique and seizures of skeptical observation Hopeless Bay Gavin Simms An episodic fiction about a young man hired to save his hometown Supply and Demand Laura Nelson-Hamilton Focusing on food security, local foods, eating healthy, agriculture, etc In Our Present Crisis Matthew Furlong A philosopher explores the value of big ideas Chasing Summer Sherrie McCarthy Tracking a young Newfoundlander travelling the world on her motorcycle

Editor / Reporter - Gavin Simms Columns Editor / Reporter - Hans Rollmann Business Manager / Contrbutor - Kieran Hanley Print Edition Design - Martin Connelly

www.theindependent.ca The Independent | Page 2

Criticism and the (small) city

By Aimee Wall

One of the first adjectives people use to describe the arts community here in St. John’s is inevitably “supportive.” Supportive and closely-knit. This is true in many ways. But I have been wondering lately if we aren’t somewhat lacking in one of the most important areas when it comes to supporting artists and their work: there doesn’t seem to be much of a culture of art criticism here.

There is a lot of promotion of art shows and theatre and concerts and readings, but there are few honest reviews.

Critical engagement and honest discussion are crucial to an art scene for the growth of its artists. It’s easy to see, however, why this is a bit of an issue in St. John’s – it’s such a small, and rather isolated, community. Everyone knows everyone else and everyone is afraid of offending. But by keeping our mouths shut, or limiting commentary to anonymous internet rants, we won’t be getting any further ahead.

We live on an island with a capital city as far away from the mainland as you can get. This isolation plays a big role in defining our artistic community. It’s expensive to get here; it’s expensive to leave. Nobody just passes through. Up until rather recently (thank you, Mightypop), it was pretty rare for most contemporary Canadian musicians to add a St. John’s date to their tour.

So we are largely left to our own devices, and this does breed interesting things.

It also means that we’re all friends here, or friends of friends, and thus, there are few people willing to give honest critique or say publicly something that might be considered controversial. And what becomes of an artistic community in which hardly anyone dares challenge the established sacred cows,

or seeks to foster emerging artists by giving honest feedback?

Something lacking Filmmaker Darcy Fitzpatrick runs Signal.

He and his rotating cast of writers often cover artistic events, review theatre, and generally have an eye on what’s happening in the city.

“Artists in St. John’s have two things going against them,” Fitzpatrick says.

“First off, they’re less exposed to the works of other artists, as one might be if living in not just a bigger centre, but a place where art and artists can roam more freely.

The whole island thing makes that difficult for St. John’s artists, so the work produced here is the result of a far more insular environment. In that sense, artists are, unfortunately, protected from the opportunity to compare their work to the works of others. [...] Coupled with that is the close-knit nature of the artistic community in St. John’s, which ensures criticism is rare and far less honest than it ought to be. Again, artists are protected and as such robbed of an essential ingredient of development. Without criticism, work suffers, no matter the discipline.”

Engaging overall coverage Chad Pelley, author of Away From Everywhere, started Salty Ink as a means of promoting Atlantic Canadian literature and writers.

“I saw a real failure in local media covering local arts in an engaging manner, so I started Salty Ink. And the response and support has been overwhelming...there was public interest there, and a niche to be

filled that mainstream media wasn’t filling.”

But Pelley is more interested in overall arts coverage than criticism.

“Criticism is too biased by the critic, whereas general overview articles let the reader make up their own mind about an artist’s work. Look at what Heavy Weather are doing with local musicians: it presents the artist in an interesting way and lets the viewer decide if they’d buy the album.”

While Pelley feels that the quality of some of the general arts coverage has often been lacking in the past, there doesn’t appear to me to be a shortage of it. With The Scope, The Telegram, CBC’s The Weekend Arts Magazine, Heavy Weather, and even the nightly appearances by musicians on Out of The Fog, there is a good deal of coverage happening in the city, and a lot of it is dynamic and engaging. But general arts coverage doesn’t negate the need for criticism - it doesn’t offer the same kind of opportunity for challenging discussion and debate.

A risky proposition Pelley notes the problems that come with living and working in a small city.

“One major difficulty in being a critic in this city is that everyone knows everyone. The same issue exists on a national scale – but the issues are concentrated in the ultra-literary Newfoundland. The local writing scene and its writers feel as small and interconnected as a strip of rowhouses on Gower Street. Luckily it is just as vibrant and colourful, but still – we tend to read our friends more gently, and want to see the good in their work: we’re more forgiving, and hesitate in putting the bad parts down on paper for the world to see. Also, some people hold grudges if you do so, and you know those people, because this is such a small province, might end up on a jury next year that your own book’s submitted to.”

Fitzpatrick also brings up the possibility of offending.

“Since there is very little genuine criticism that takes place here, artists aren’t accustomed to receiving it. As such, I think the first reaction an artist might have when their work is criticized would be to take offense. This makes it a risky proposition to offer criticism here since, in all likelihood, you may find yourself working with those people at some stage in your career. Or you would have, had you not offended them with your honest critique of their work.”

Both Fitzpatrick and Pelley mention the potentially awkward scenario of working with, or being judged by, fellow artists whose work one might have criticized. It’s a distinct possibility if you are both making your own work and critiquing that of others.

A few good critics Fitzpatrick sees the need for experienced critics to take on the responsibility.

“Now all we need are a few good critics.

The problem, there, of course, is that criticism itself is an acquired skill. It comes with practice.”

“Artists can do their part by openly encouraging criticism of their work. Set up feedback sessions after performances and gallery show openings and/or closings, or even just let it be known that, hey, if you’ve got something to say about my work, please say it… contact me directly or publish your thoughts on paper or online… I welcome it.”

Pelley sees potential harm in criticism that is poorly delivered.

“Too many “critics” seem more interested in using their article as a chance to sound intelligent, talk about their personal life, or how they would have written the book. All of which are irrelevant, and only make them sound nasty and self-absorbed.

But what of honest and informed critique? If we say that the criticism that does happen is often not constructive, what if we seek to change that, rather than abandon the idea altogether? Without challenging dialogue, we will end up patting each other on the back and settling, however slowly and by degrees, into mediocrity.

And as Fitzpatrick notes, it’s all out of a love of art, and a desire for growth.

“Ultimately the artist and the critic are on the same team. They’re all seeking to foster the positive development of great art within the community.”

But even recognizing the need for something to change in this respect, there are still a lot of questions to ask. How does one navigate being both artist and critic in a small city? And what about anonymity, so easily available online?

To be continued... .

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The Independent | Page 3

The Dardanelles The Eastern Light

I

A Review by Ryan Belbin

n a province where the best kinds of parties are traditionally held in kitchens, a new album made up largely of jigs and reels begs the question of why. How can you take snatches of melodies that have as many incarnations as there are kitchens along the island’s rocky coast, weave them together, and make them sound fresh and new?

The Dardanelles are a five-piece group from St. John’s who have been digging into songbooks and the vernacular since 2005, crafting a sound that approaches traditional Newfoundland music with the usual tools – acoustic guitar, banjo, mandolin, bodhran, fiddle, and the occasional shanty bellow – but with a renewed, youthful vigour and enthusiasm. Some of it might be from your grandfather’s record collection, but it sounds as contemporary and relevant as any other roots musicians making a raucous at all hours to a sweaty, sold-out crowd at the Ship in downtown St. John’s.

The Eastern Light opens with “McCarthy’s,” an instrumental fiddle number that gets the toes tapping right from the get-go. Not unlike the salty water sweeping the shores of this island, the album moves in waves: instrumental pieces that begin slowly and subtly rise to a vivacious fervour, intermittently interrupted by narrative ballads with a touch of poetic sadness and a nostalgic yearning for seafaring days gone by.

Matthew Byrne has a delicate set of pipes, a smooth voice that glides in and out on the album – no bawdy drinking songs here, but rather sweet, stirring melodies. The titular track takes the listener on a romantic voyage onboard a fishing vessel, “Pad’s Song” finds a tragic beauty in simplicity, while the upbeat closer “Big Bow Wow” – with the surprising addition of Great Big Sea’s Alan Doyle – has fun with plotting against a lazy captain.

Nothing here sticks out as being a complete reinvention of Newfoundland folk music, but the songs do complement each other in such a way to make the traditional tunes fresh and interesting. As with any good live band, though, the album is not a piece of work to define the group – the Dardanelles’ new disc is merely the primer to get you ready for a night downtown, where you don’t just step back in history, you kick up your heels and dive in full force.

Are you a passionate Newfoundlander or Labradorian?

Think that you can help us grow?

CONTACT US editor@theindependent.ca The Independent | Page 4

ANIMAL HALL By Wallace Ryan

Getting recognized The story of a community’s struggle for recognition...

By John Nick-Jeddore

M

y father created the sign in the accompanying photo as a welcome for those who visited our reserve. It once read “Nike’ piskwa’n pask pkesikn l’nu’-maqmikew tel-nenasik awsami-apje’jik Miawpukek” which roughly meant that you were entering only a small part of Mi’kmaw land known to us as Miawpukek. As some of you may not know, at one time this land was not recognized as a reserve by the government, nor were we even recognized as ‘Indians’, either! This seems hard to believe because we’ve established ourselves as Mi’kmaq people on this land and celebrate that identity each and every day.

However, that was not always so. Up until the early 1980’s, from the viewpoint of the government, there were no Indians inhabiting the island portion of this province.

There’s a lot of history behind our road to being recognized, including members leaving the community, occupying government offices, barricading roads, holding hunger strikes and so much more.

started hunting on ntuylwo’mi (traditional trapping grounds) forcing them to go further inland to hunt. These regulations were a foreign ideology to our people. An elder once told me, “There was never a decline in animal numbers when my grandfather hunted, only until new people came around did they begin dying off, then they put regulations on our hunt so we could no longer feed our families like we once did”. There are many horror stories about Mounties coming into our community and confiscating animals that were ‘illegally’ hunted. One such story involved an officer taking the liver right from the frying pan during Easter dinner.

Our community experienced a lot of problems at that time, and employment declined to nearly zero percent. We never went to school because our traditional way of life didn’t require it, but now that our lifestyle was taken away, we had nowhere to turn.

from the start, and they only got worse. Over the following years, land claims were made by our people and were denied due to ‘lack of history’, which is very upsetting since over 100 years prior to this, Conne River had already been set aside as “Indian land”.

Things get serious Then in 1983, things really took a turn.

The provincial government sent cheques to our community with many conditions attached. Our Saqamaw, Mi’sel Joe refused to accept these conditions and a stop order was placed on them. One month later, 100 members of our community went to St. John’s to support Saqamaw in our fight for equality with all first nations. We couldn’t understand why we were having so much difficulty, compared to our relatives on the mainland on their reserves. Well, during that time, Joe

A long history Mi’kmaq people have irrefutably occupied this land for hundreds of years, and arguably before European contact via birchbark canoes over the Cabot Strait (as I’ve discussed before). When asked, we say that we were always here, from the beginning.

Despite what many choose to believe, we were not ‘brought’ here to do someone else’s dirty work (I hate to even touch on that idea) but instead knew this land was a great area for hunting and gathering.

We established semi-permanent settlements around Nujioqoni’k (Bay St. George), Wapeskue’katik (White Bear Bay), Miawpukek (Conne River) and other, mainly coastal, areas. These areas were settled usually in the summer, but were left during the winter for hunting and trapping grounds further inland. Of these areas, Conne River remained inherently Mi’kmaq. The other communities also had and continue to have a very strong presence, but to this day our community self identifies as Mi’kmaq, as it always has.

This was so evident that in 1869, Alexander Murray set aside a strip of land in Conne River as a reserve for the Mi’kmaq.

No one in the community really knew what that meant at the time, due to such isolation, but they realized it set them apart. At that time, as we do today, we had our own governance: community chiefs, district chiefs, grand chiefs; a system that worked together extremely well for centuries and will continue to do so for centuries to come. This system of governance exists under the Sante Mawio’mi, or grand council.

In my grandfather’s time, school was never a priority. You would either go until you were old enough to head to the country or you wouldn’t attend at all. Mi’kmaq people were hunters and gatherers since the beginning of time; that’s what we knew best.

So that’s what most of the people from our community would do when they turned 10 or 11: they’d begin to learn the ways of the animals so they too could provide for their family. This went on for some time, but then something happened. Animal numbers began to dwindle, regulations were put on hunting, people our elders never saw before

Confederation?

When Newfoundland signed onto confederation, we were then considered Canadian citizens. We abided by the laws and the ideals associated with being ‘Canadian’.

But there was one small problem: there was no mention whatsoever of the aboriginal inhabitants of the island. During Confederation, we were ‘penciled out’. Premier Joey Smallwood said there were no Indians in Newfoundland; we are all Newfoundlanders (and Labradorians).

Really? But what about us?

When someone asks my nationality, I reply ‘First Nations’. This is our home, and has been for hundreds of years, yet we gained no recognition when this land was signed over to Canada.

So a movement started in the 1960’s, to try and figure out what other aboriginal communities were doing. We here in Conne River maintained contact with Mi’kmaq communities on the mainland, so in 1972, So’sep and Martin Jeddore went to the Assembly of Nova Scotia Indians to see if we were entitled to anything under the ruling order of Canada. It turned out that Indians in Canada were entitled to certain rights outlined in the Indian Act and Treaties signed between our people and the colonialists at the time. Well, what do you know! This info would have been nice to have years earlier, but Joey forgot about us all when he signed the island over.

In 1973, the first native council was formed in Conne River. It was a more formal effort to have our voices heard on a governmental level. In the mid 70’s an agreement was made between the provincial government and Conne River declaring it a native community. However this posed problems

Goudie (Minister of Rural, Agriculture and Northern Development) slammed the Miawpukek Indian Band. So, the following day 31 members of our community occupied his office and locked themselves inside.

Things were starting to get serious.

Police eventually broke in and many of our people faced charges. There were supporters waiting outside the office who actually snuck some of the members away without getting arrested. Hope of our being recognized as equals seemed to dwindle.

But in one last effort, Saqamaw Mi’sel Joe decided he’d hold a hunger strike. He, along with 8 others (Sulia’n Joe, Salusal Drew, Chesley Joe, Antle Joe, Aubrey Joe, Michael Benoit, Wilfred Drew and Ricky Jeddore) put their lives on the line so their children and our people as a whole could have a better life than they faced at the time.

It was a success!

The government agreed to sit down and talk with our leaders. Finally in December of 1985, after years of fighting, the Federal Government recognized Conne River as a Reserve. Then in 1987, two years before I was born, our community was officially recognized as an Indian reserve under the Indian act and those living on the land with Mi’kmaq ancestry were recognized as status Indians.

Since then, employment has gone up to nearly 100%, our school is operated privately by our own nation and teaches our language and history, and we’ve kept the chieftain system we had used for hundreds of years. When you enter the reserve we can ‘legally’ now say, “p’jilasi siknue’kati!” and once again, our people are proud to be Mi’kmaq.

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The Independent | Page 5

Like a drunkard on a spree

By Gavin Simms

John Cossar’s goldmine has been wait-

ing a long time. Sixty years and only now is he getting around to gutting it out.

“It pours,” he says. “It pours out of me.”

The words of a perpetual songwriter, with more music in him than any machine could keep up with. An old man with more history to impart than future to fit it all.

It was four years ago when John decided to start a career in music, at the age of 56.

Single, after 35 years as a family man, he found himself with a guitar to his name and a wealth of words.

Begins in the bay John was born in Burgeo, the baby of “a bunch of brothers and sisters.”

And as far as his memory can tell, he was raised up by the radio.

“I listened to lots of radio. All we could get was CHCM Marystown and I was kind of warped by that — I wanted to play rock music and that’s all I was interested in.”

A confessed bad boy, he got into the habit of staying up all hours of the night, channeling music from thin air.

“In the early morning hours where Burgeo is situated, there’s an atmospheric skip and it changes the angle of whatever radio station is broadcasting. You pick up unique ones you wouldn’t normally pick up all hours of the night.”

He found himself listening to New York stations, around the time when the Beatles landed — he even heard them being interviewed in their hotel rooms. Says he was a Beatles fan before anybody knew of them in Newfoundland.

At 14, his parents bought him his first guitar from a Sears catalog, so he could at least pretend to be some sort of rock star.

“I was playing somewhere in my head. I didn’t care how it sounded; I just wanted to play it,” he says.

He was a musician playing other people’s songs on through high school and into his twenties. But he didn’t mind, as long as he got to play — back then playing whatever

song was all he cared to do.

“When I was a teenager playing in the band, I avoided work like the plague. I didn’t even know there was two 3 o’clocks in the day for Christ sakes. I couldn’t see the point in working like everybody else.”

Well into his twenties, John came to the conclusion it was time to call it quits with music altogether, and make a go at a straight life. So he did, starting with a job in construction.

“It taught me to work. Good physical tiredness — coming home and passing out because you couldn’t do anymore — it toughened me up.”

He came out of the experience wanting a family with his high school sweetheart, Betty. And as the years went by from there he became a dad to his daughter and husband to his wife.

For the past thirty years he’s worked as a baker, trading time for money with Wonderbread, Auntie Crae’s, Sobeys, Purity Factories and Tim Hortons.

That second chance John’s wife of 22 years died of breast cancer in 2001.

He later remarried, but it didn’t last.

“They say write what you know,” John puts it. “And all I know is this right now.”

He’s since left the straight life behind him and picked things up where he left off in his twenties, with the exception of playing covers.

“I’m never going to play anyone else’s songs again. I played cover songs for ten years and even though I like Irish songs, I don’t ever want to sing another one for a long time.”

Wiser now, John lives in day and night devotion to his music, regardless of the cost or what anyone else might think.

“I live my life like I live my life. I’ve let other people’s opinions of me bend me into shapes where I didn’t recognize me, and I no longer do that. I’m not living to anyone else’s standards.”

Being a full-time musician has meant busking on the streets of St. John’s for money to eat over the past two years, but John doesn’t mind. He’ll write songs right there on the sidewalk.

“I can’t even put it into words, just how much I admire what comes out of me, and it sounds so friggin’ vain. I don’t even give a rat’s ass if anybody else ever reads it.

“I would look at this as if you were to make your favorite stew — for that stew you go to the grocery store and get all the things you want to put in it. My little grocery store is filled will all the words that I know, so I’m walking down the aisles choosing this word and that word. I’m making a stew — I don’t quite know what it is but I do know one thing for certain; I’m not going to be putting things in that stew that you like. I’m putting stuff in that stew that I like. I’m the one that this is made for.”

Not intentionally, John says he’s caused more hurt than anything by not doing what he should have been doing a long time ago.

But hurt belongs in the past, is something he lives by. And now that he’s reaping the benefits of being himself, he’s the most grateful man you’ll meet.

“It’s been one nice thing after another. I got a manager out of it I didn’t even ask for; I got a recording contract; I got funding for a demo, and funding for a full-length CD.” Listening back to demos he’s recorded, John can’t believe it’s him — he can’t believe he wrote the words or played the guitar. To his ear (he’s deaf in one) the music is flawless — something he never considered himself to be.

He’s a man of metaphors, and there’s no line between his life and his music. Performing what he’s created on stage, he says, “It’s like this big ball of sadness has left me. I roll it away and it hits people — they cry and I smile.”

John Cossar’s debut album, Another Bridge to Burn, was released in October.

Approaches to creating food security

cont’d from page 2: to ensuring that all people, at all times, have access to food.

Access, in this case, refers to the amount of food that is grown or caught within a region, the capacity to purchase or provide food for an individual or a family, and is connected to your income status, place of residence, physical capacity and mobility. Individuals may experience food insecurity as a result of economic insufficiency (the unemployed, pensioners, lone parents, students), physical incapacity to secure food (seniors, persons with disabilities), or a lack of food in their community (small rural outports).

Food banks, community kitchens and community gardens have been organized in order to meet people’s food needs across the country. Bulk buying clubs, community freezers (which store culturally desirable foods that are hunted by and shared among Inuit peoples in Labrador) and gardening skills-sharing activities have also been organized in order to increase food security in Newfoundland and Labrador.

As communities respond to food insecurity among their members, they create a number of opportunities and also face some challenges. Food banks, community kitchens and community gardens have not been able to completely solve food insecurity in any region of Canada; however they do pro-

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vide temporary relief from hunger. For instance, many food banks provide a week’s supply of canned goods and non-perishables to persons in need. Nutritionists have indicated that diets comprised of these types of foods have negative health effects, and there are also problems with regard to lack of choice over what foods may be taken home.

After considering some of the issues related to food insecurity here, you might wonder about the prospect of creating a province where food is available, affordable, and physically accessible for all. Provincial and municipal governments, community organizations, institutions and citizens all have a role to play when it comes to finding solutions to these problems. Increasing local food production by gardening or supporting the area’s farmers is one way that many community groups are attempting to solve these issues. The province’s poverty reduction strategy is also attempting to improve individuals’ economic capacities so that they can afford basic necessities.

Over the past several years, those who share interests in food security in Newfoundland and Labrador have placed a special emphasis on creating a food system where producers receive fair wages, and environmental sustainability is taken into account within food production and distri-

bution activities. Citizens have been meeting with one another over potluck meals that feature local ingredients, at farmers’ markets, over teleconferences, at community gardens, in classrooms, public lectures, and online forums. These discussions have included farmers, fishers, doctors, students, nutritionists, social workers, politicians, and persons living on low incomes. Provincial dialogues and conferences, organized by the Food Security Network of Newfoundland and Labrador, have facilitated connections among persons who are passionate about food security, and have also created a network of support which encourages skills sharing, project collaboration, and the development of best practices for food security initiatives.

In this column, I will be discussing food security issues and responses in our province by highlighting the work of community organizations and individuals who are engaged in understanding these problems, and creating solutions. I will also be sharing recipes, and focusing on businesses and co-operatives that offer local food options.

There are many stories to tell about provincial policies, community-led initiatives and organizing efforts that are attempting to increase food security in Newfoundland and Labrador. Stay tuned.

To Ecuador...

Conservation Council, she did her Masters in Environmental Science at Memorial University of Newfoundland. There, she studied the environmental and health impacts of the Inco smelter in Indonesia. She has also observed the explosive growth of mining activism in Canada.

“Since Canada’s companies are controlling the global mining industry, it was only a matter of time till you’d see this growth of activism here in Canada,” she says. “It’s not just a case of a few bad apples. It’s widespread…there’s no legal mechanism whatsoever to hold mining companies to account for their environmental crimes, or the fact that women in Papua New Guinea are saying they’re being gang-raped by mining security guards. There’s nothing in place for any of those people to have any sort of justice.”

Glynn argues the problem is only partly one of corporate impunity abroad. What mining activists want, she says, is for Canadian companies to be held accountable within Canada, for their actions outside of Canada. She points out last year’s Bill C-300, a mining accountability bill which would have cut government funding to mining companies that commit crimes and human rights abuses overseas, didn’t pass in Parliament. She says its failure speaks to the enormous lobby power of mining corporations.

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able to stop the destruction of Sandy Pond.

At issue is a federal regulation which allows the federal government to reclassify freshwater lakes as tailings impoundment areas: essentially, dump sites for toxic waste. Gibson says the original intention of the regulation was to grandfather in existing lakes that had already been used as toxic waste dumps.

But once it was added, mining companies and the government began to actively use it to reclassify new lakes as dump sites as well.

Mining companies have already applied to destroy 12 freshwater bodies across the country (including three in Newfoundland and Labrador); five have been approved. So the Sandy Pond Alliance is taking the federal government to court.

Gibson says there’s a mistaken idea that because Newfoundland and Labrador has so many lakes, it’s not a big deal to use a few of them as toxic waste sites. What’s not understood, he explains, is that each lake has its own unique ecosystem which has developed

with it. They wouldn’t be able to get away with it in England, or Europe…because they don’t want to lose their lakes.”

over thousands of years.

“That cannot be replicated,” he emphasizes. “There’s compensation, but really that’s just a public relations gambit. The compensation is to make a small reservoir nearby, widen a couple small ponds that already exist, and put fish in it. You can’t dig a hole, drop some fish in it and call it a natural fish habitat.”

sobbing from someone behind me. A woman from Colombia raises her hand to speak, and pleads with those around her, looking for the Canadians in the audience. “Lots of you don’t know that an entire town is going to disappear, because of a Canadian mining company,” the elderly woman enunciates, carefully framing the unfamiliar English words as she fights back tears. “Do you know what it’s like for an entire town, your church, everything…it will all be gone, just so a few Canadians can get rich.”

“Now is not a good time to be discovered as a Canadian when you’re traveling abroad,” one human rights worker laments.

It’s little wonder Colombians are silent, another member of the audience observes.

The director of a human rights theatre group that operates in Colombia stands up, waving her arms in disagreement. “People in Colombia are fighting,” she says vehemently. “They are not staying silent. But if they raise their voice, they’ll be killed.

That’s why I’m here, that’s why we’re doing this in Canada. Because Canada is responsible for making this happen.”

A global issue Fighting the non-democratic nature of such decisions appears to be a common theme in the mining justice movement, from Ecuador to Newfoundland and Labrador.

“Consent is the main thing,” Glynn emphasized. “Letting communities decide whether they want a mining community in their backyard. That’s key. Right now there’s nothing there…to allow communities to have a say.”

While the Sandy Pond Alliance is trying to save Newfoundland and Labrador’s freshwater bodies, activists in other countries have even more at stake. Back at the conference launch, a question and answer period quickly turns emotional. Whispers trace the room in a dozen languages or more, and as stories are told, I hear a soft

Problems in our own backyard It’s not just overseas that mining activists are struggling.

“Often we think that mining practices in Canada are better than they are overseas, and that’s not the case,” Glynn explained. “Actually our regulations are not that strong. Like dumping in lakes, many countries don’t allow that, but we do. Mining companies are saying it’s more favourable to do mining in a lot of Canadian provinces than in countries abroad.”

The case of the Sandy Pond Alliance in Newfoundland and Labrador provides an example of the challenges faced by environmental groups challenging mining activities in Canada. Sandy Pond is a lake in Newfoundland that’s been designated as a “tailings impoundment area” by the federal government, meaning that Vale Inco will be able to dump toxic waste in the lake as part of its nickel processing project in Long Harbour. The Sandy Pond Alliance is taking their battle to court to prevent the destruction of the lake.

This year on Earth Day, the Sandy Pond Alliance was astounded when they were kicked out of an Earth Day event at the Fluvarium in St. John’s, where they planned to share an information booth with the Sierra Club. According to John Gibson, a retired scientist with the Department of Fisheries and Oceans and one of the Alliance’s organizers, the managers of the Fluvarium said the group’s efforts to save the lake were considered too political for Earth Day. “The problem is they’re [Fluvarium] now getting funded by SunCor Energy. And believe it or not, even Vale Inco was there…

I think it’s absolutely disgraceful. I mean you can’t have political interference with that sort of thing…when they accept money, they have to be careful that that doesn’t interfere with their policy of saving the environment.”

Gibson is hopeful their group will be

An uphill battle Gibson recognizes the challenges they’re up against.

“The mining industry is a David versus Goliath battle, and they have Bay Street lawyers, and they want to keep these things going forever.”

Even environmental impact assessments are inadequate, he argues.

“The problem is, consulting companies always select data that’s going to support their client. And so these environmental impact assessments are really, some of them pretty pathetic…I think mining companies will just try and get away with what they can…but that’s why we have regulations.

That’s why we have the Fisheries Act. And so to corrupt it with these loopholes is disgraceful. These things are not being done democratically, so we have to go to court.”

He echoes Glynn’s assessment that Canada’s laws are much more lax than those in many countries in which he and his colleagues have worked.

“In South Africa, they never did it that way. It’s only here that they can get away

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