Consultations part of First Nations fight to protect land’s never-ending gifts

I was asked by a friend recently: why do Indigenous Peoples care so much about consultation on the land?

It was in the context of a discussion surrounding the 12 First Nations (nine in BC and three in Alberta) who this week filed legal challenges against the federal government’s decision to fast-track the Pacific Link oil pipeline by listing it as a “project of the national interest.”

First Nations say they were not consulted adequately and the production of the oil for Pacific Link, the construction work on the proposed route, and the pipeline itself will drastically impact water, the environment, Indigenous rights, treaty rights, wildlife and human health.

As stated by a spokesperson for Tsartlip First Nation (a community located along the proposed pipeline route): “Tsartlip has a responsibility, as has been expressed by our chief and council, to look after its territory, stand up for those places for the past, present, and future.”

The friend who asked me the question understood that oil production and pipelines produce a lot of pollution and even admitted: “I wouldn’t want a pipeline near my house.”

“Don’t many First Nations exist in poverty, though,” my friend continued, “and projects like Pacific Link offer a way out? Why do First Nations hold this country’s economy hostage and always demand consultation about the environment? Don’t they want jobs and realize Canada has to pay for things?”

In response, I asked my friend if he had ever had a dog in his life.

“Yes,” he replied. “Her name was Blacky.”

I asked him to tell me about Blacky.

With a big smile on his face, he told me about how Blacky was purchased by his parents at the humane society and how he grew up with her, fed her, and loved her.

He said Blacky was always overjoyed to see him when he’d get home and described how she’d run to the door, jump on him, and sometimes even pee a little.

“Blacky made it into our family portrait,” he said, proudly.

He then explained how crushed he was when Blacky died. “She probably was the best relationship I ever had,” he said.

“Did Blacky ever run away?” I asked him.

“Yes, one day she got outside our fence and we didn’t see her for three days. We looked everywhere and put up signs. Then, one day, we opened our back door and there she was, wagging her tail. I remember everyone crying.”

I then asked the most important question of all.

“Did she come back because you owned her or because you loved her?”

I then told my friend this: after a lifetime spent with multiple furry and feathered beings, I can unequivocally say our non-human relations love us as much as, if not more than, we love them.

They make us feel seen, cared for, and wanted.

Wouldn’t it be nice if any of our family — our children, spouse, or friend — were as excited as they are to see us, showed up every time without condition, and peed a little?

Our non-human relations also give us never-ending gifts necessary for life.

For instance, every morning the sun rises and offers warmth and light.

At night, the moon offers the vision for a path home.

The trees give air, the river gives water, and the earth gives medicine.

Animals offer probably the biggest gifts of all to humans — their bodies — so we have things to wear, food to eat, and education on how the land works.

Everything around us loves humanity — even when we do not always love it back.

Case in point: it was reported that millions of litres of raw sewage was recently discharged into the Red River. And yet, the land will still love us anyways.

In a time where multiple layers of Canadian governments attempt near-endlessly to extract resources and develop projects that pollute and harm the environment, one question emerges: is it a “project of the national interest” to eat, drink, and breathe money?

Or, rather: do we love the land as much as it loves us?

Everything in the land embodies sustainability. Even the worst pain and suffering.

What happens on the earth is followed by healing and regeneration.

As an example: bears eat fish but bears eventually die and become fish food.

Through the land, we learn that healthy, loving relationships ensure that life exists — with competitiveness, hoarding, and selfishness creating the opposite effect.

For millennia, Indigenous Peoples studied where they lived and realized one undeniable, scientific and mathematical truth: the land is built out of love.

First Nations don’t demand to be consulted about the land because there is some need to take something from Canadians but to fulfill the most important responsibility they have learned about this place.

That we will all need to be here tomorrow.

niigaan.sinclair@winnipegfreepress.com