When you live without direct power and running water, everyday tasks take far longer than they need to, says Darlene Richards.
Washing her hair, for example, is a lengthy process that involves first heating up water in a kettle that is plugged into an outlet at her trailer, which in turn is plugged into an outlet at her mother’s cabin.
“You’re steady busy,” said Richards, who lives in a trailer with a built-on addition in Conklin, Alta., a hamlet with a primarily Métis population, located 155 kilometres southeast of Fort McMurray. “It’s a struggle.”
Richards isn’t alone. Despite being a stone’s throw from the oilsands-rich area of Christina Lake, which generates billions of dollars in annual revenue, many people in Conklin struggle to find suitable housing, according to a report from the region’s resource development committee.
Many Indigenous communities face similar challenges. According to Statistics Canada, Indigenous people are almost twice as likely to live in crowded housing as non-Indigenous people and more than three times as likely to live in dwellings in need of major repairs.
Richards, however, said she expects her life will soon change after she moves into a new home built through an unusual partnership.
The oil and gas company Cenovus Energy has put up $50 million to build homes in six First Nations and Métis communities closest to its Christina Lake and Foster Creek oilsands operations.
The project, first announced in 2020, aims to build 200 homes by the end of 2025. As of last year, 121 houses had been built, and the hope is to finish 161 by the end of this year.
Experts say the initiative could be seen as the latest example of a broader shift in corporate culture, in which resource companies have become more concerned about providing benefits to Indigenous communities in their orbit. There’s far more that needs to be done, they say, but it’s a step in the right direction.
“These companies make a lot of money from their oilsands activities, and so returning some of it to the community is just an appropriate thing to have happen,” said Ken Coates, an Indigenous affairs expert and professor emeritus in public policy at the University of Saskatchewan in Saskatoon.
“For a company to sort of stand up as Cenovus has done and say, ‘There’s this massive crisis in indigenous housing In the middle of some of the wealthiest piece of land in the world, it just doesn’t make any sense’ … it is really quite a brave and determined sort of step and overdue, to say the least.”
How it works
The initiative began when Alex Pourbaix, the former CEO and current executive chair of Cenovus, toured communities near its Christina Lake and Foster Creek operations and heard from residents about their housing challenges.
“Fundamentally, Cenovus wants to be a good neighbour,” said Dustin Meek, the company’s manager of Indigenous business development and housing.
The six First Nations and Métis communities that have received funding are:
- Conklin Métis Local 193
- Beaver Lake Cree Nation
- Chard Métis Nation
- Chipewyan Prairie Dene First Nation
- Cold Lake First Nations
- Heart Lake First Nation
“I think it was a surprise but much welcomed,” said Valerie Quintal, a board director with the Conklin Resource Development Advisory Committee and president of Conklin Métis Local 193.
The homes being built for Conklin are ready-to-move properties built off-site and transported to the community.
A points system is in place to determine who is most in need of housing and should move in first, Quintal said. Factors that are considered include age and how many members are in a family.
Many residents in Conklin, Alta., struggle to find suitable housing. Some will soon move into homes with access to electricity and running water thanks to a new partnership.
Although the project has faced trouble with permitting delays, the hope is to have more than a dozen families move in this fall. The plan is to build 35 new homes in total by the end of next year.
Darlene Richards’s sister, Grace, is also set to move into a new home this fall. She’s also had to contend with a lack of basic amenities and looks forward to having more time for other pursuits.
“It’s hard to think about having a job, a steady job, because of a lack of running water, no electricity,” Grace Richards said. “I’m hoping now that, work-wise, I’ll be able to look for a more permanent job.”
Why do it?
Daniel Sims, an associate professor of Indigenous studies at the University of Northern British Columbia in Prince George, B.C., said he hasn’t heard before of an oilsands company investing in Indigenous housing, but he isn’t surprised.
In recent decades, courts in Canada have found that Indigenous communities can slow or stop resource projects if they aren’t on board, he said, prompting companies to invest time and money in hopes of building more positive relations.
“Providing direct benefits … is an easy way for a lot of these companies to kind of deal with any sort of opposition that may arise or that potentially could arise,” Sims said.
He said this type of investment could raise questions about whether a company’s intentions are genuine or are simply a means of whitewashing past actions, adding he wasn’t speaking specifically about the Cenovus project.
Coates, of the University of Saskatchewan, said this type of investment is an example of a broader shift in the private sector.
“It represents a realization on the part of the more progressive and innovative Canadian companies that their long-term viability relies on deep and profound connection with Indigenous communities,” he said.
Resolving the housing crisis will take more than one-time investments. The Assembly of First Nations says that at a federal level, there’s a need for $135 billion to build First Nations housing and address the current homelessness and overcrowding crisis.
As for the Richards sisters, they’re hoping to move into their new homes in time for the holidays.
“Being able [to] cook a turkey dinner for Christmas — I haven’t done that in 10 years,” Grace Richards said.
“There’s so much to look forward to.”
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