An earlier version of this column was originally published in First Nations Voice at the beginning of September.
The fever of H1N1′s second wave is already rising. As we move into fall, health officials are expecting another outbreak of this weird new influenza. And like the first wave, it’ll hit First Nations especially hard. The ongoing H1N1 saga here in Manitoba has been a bitter ordeal of preparedness, health care accountability, and Aboriginal vitality since people first started getting sick in the spring. Over the summer, levels of government argued over what communities needed to deal with the outbreak, and who would pay for it. All the while people were dying from the intense and unrelenting respiratory sickness. Others at the grassroots level mobilized to raise money to buy supplies to send to remote communities. Now that fall is here, health stations on different reserves are stocking supplies, and raising awareness of this deadly illness. The federal government said it committed hundreds of millions of dollars for preparations, but that goodwill was followed by a premature and disheartening shipment of body bags to northern communities. It’s been a confusing and frustrating few months for Aboriginal people at the heart of the H1N1 scourge; many feel abandoned and betrayed. But despite that, it’s up to them to now take command of their own well-being.
One can broadly say that Aboriginal Canadians are unhealthier than the rest of the general population. Diabetes rates are four times higher in First Nations than elsewhere in non-native Canada. Obesity is another issue. And Aboriginal Canadians are twice as likely to develop heart disease or stroke than anyone else. With all these risk factors, health is already compromised in First Nation communities, making people there even more vulnerable to potential pandemics like H1N1. Right now, health officials are trying to make people aware of how to protect themselves from that flu. But this looming threat should be an eyeopener for people to reinforce their physical well-being. To quit smoking. To get active. And to try to eat better.
That’s not to say that some Aboriginal people in remote communities are responsible for their own poor health. The settling of the reserve system put many people in difficult immobile positions. They had to abandon traditional nomadic living, and the healthy, natural food via hunting and fishing that came with it. Today, people in remote communities are reliant on poor, processed foods that are all they can afford – at already inflated prices. That’s contributed to obesity and the high rates of diabetes and heart disease. Health experts have reiterated over and over since the H1N1 outbreak that people with weakened immune systems will be more vulnerable to the flu. With an outbreak weeks away, it’s unlikely people with underlying health issues can turn them around that quickly, but this new sickness should sound a loud alarm in communities across the country.
Although the images of people in isolated reserves wearing masks to shield against H1N1 are shocking, they’ll go a long way in raising awareness. Even the body bag faux pas should strengthen that resolve. This is a scary new sickness that has tragic potential. But it can give us a healthy new perspective of our own well-being to avoid other tragedies in our communities. More and more, we control our own destiny.
