TWO SIDES OF A COIN: MY WORK WITH THE INDIGENOUS COMMUNITIES

Dr Chandrakant Shah (second from right) with Archbishop Colin Johnson (fourth from right).

By DR CHANDRANT SHAH

The discovery of a large number of unmarked graves of Indigenous children on the grounds of residential schools operated by churches raises questions about the role played by the faith community in the lives of Indigenous Peoples.

Historically, there was a close collaboration between the colonizers and churches: the empire wanted the material resources of the colony and churches wanted the souls by converting inhabitants – whom they labelled ‘heathens’ – to Christianity.

With the reluctance on the part of the Catholic Church to apologize, the question arises – how much has changed?

I cite my experience in working with the remote and isolated Indigenous communities in northwest Ontario.

Resources for health, education and social services are scarce in these Indigenous communities; so are employment opportunities.

Before my retirement as a physician, I thought I should revisit these communities as my last visit was twenty-five years ago.

In 2015, I visited a very remote and isolated fly-in First Nations community with a population of 250.

One of the Mennonite patients I saw in the nursing station was home-bound for a while and needed home visits to keep him socially connected.

I asked the pastor for an appointment, but the pastor and his wife, both in their late twenties, were kind enough to meet me at the nursing station.

I introduced myself as an old man (79, that year) waiting in the departure lounge (my way of being light-hearted). I then narrated the concerns about my client, asking for their help to arrange for two to three weekly home visits.

At the end of our meeting, while rising from his chair, the pastor said, “Dr Shah, I am worried about you”.

He said he realized that I was an old man and a good man, but upon my departure from the earth, I would not go to heaven.

“Only those who believe in Christ go to heaven,” he explained.

“My dear Pastor, please do not worry about me,” I said to him.

And then asked a simple question. Did he know that there were seven heavens: one each for Christians, Muslims, Jews, Hindus and so on; and then I assured him that if he believed I was a good man, then surely one of these heavens would accept me.

He was speechless.

During my many visits to the northern Indigenous communities, I have observed that even in the smallest communities, there are several churches of different denominations. Blessed are those who work there!

Their archdiocese supports these churches for their missionary work, and they remain relatively resource-rich compared to their adopted communities.

Over the years, I also observed that the churches were more interested in expanding their congregation by converting Indigenous peoples rather than being involved in service to humanity.

If they truly cared for humanity, I thought, churches could put their differences aside and pull resources together and help the inhabitants in many ways.

I regularly encountered many individuals in these communities with chronic physical and emotional problems needing meaningful engagements in their day-to-day life.

However, their communities lacked the infrastructure. I thought this problem required a local solution: the churches could work together, pooling their resources in developing a day program that could keep these individuals occupied.

With the consent of the head of the regional Indigenous Health Authority and their mental health unit director, I connected with the head offices of churches in Toronto to call such an ecumenical regional meeting.

While individuals in the hierarchy of churches liked the idea, there was no commitment.

Ultimately, as I was getting old, I channelled my energies elsewhere.

Let me not cast a blanket aspersion that churches do not care. My work with different faith churches such as the United Church, Anglican Church and Presbyterian Church in raising funds for a new Indigenous health centre in Toronto has been rewarding.

Also, I have met a remarkable Anglican bishop who has left a permanent mark on my memory.

My most memorable experience has been with the (late) Anglican Archbishop Edward Scott, former primate of the Anglican Church.

The Indigenous Medical Services branch of the Government of Canada and the Nishnawbe Aski Nations of northern Ontario convened the Scott-McKay-Bain health panel in response to a hunger strike by the aboriginal leaders in the Sioux Lookout Zone Hospital in 1986.

The panel consisted of late Archbishop Scott as the lead commissioner and (late) Dr Harry Bain from the Hospital for Sick Children and Wally McKay, executive director of Tikinagan Child & Family Service. I was one of the research consultants on this project.

One Saturday morning in the fall of 1988, the archbishop called me asking me whether I could review the draft of their final report before it went to the printer for publication on Monday.

“While I trust my two other commissioners, I need an opinion from a neutral person like you,” he explained.

I felt honoured by his faith in me and agreed. He told me that the report would be delivered to my home in a short while.

Two hours later, my doorbell rang, and there stood the archbishop, delivering the report himself.

I could not believe my eyes and still believe the experience to be an example of great humility.

The report described the sorry state of health services provided to the Indigenous Peoples living in twenty-six isolated communities.

It recommended many concrete solutions including the development of the First Nations Health Authority lead by Indigenous Peoples. Many of the recommendations were implemented.

For the interested reader, here’s a link to the report.

How much has much changed? I leave it to you, my reader, to judge for yourself.

BODY AND SOUL

TWO SIDES OF A COIN: MY WORK WITH THE INDIGENOUS COMMUNITIES