When I think of the north, I feel a sense of awe. I've camped out many times under the stars and witnessed, first-hand, the beauty of the boreal forest to the north of the Prairies. I romanticize the empty, mysterious vastness of the places at and above the treeline, far outside any town or city limits, having grown up on Tolkien and other fantasy stalwarts that portray the north as mysterious, and dangerous.Â
Out of those two adjectives, the second is looking like the most accurate in describing the situation many people are  living in, in the far north of provinces like Saskatchewan, Manitoba and Ontario.
A rash of suicides in far north communities and on First Nations in the far north is gripping the news. This is a troubling commonality.
La Loche is still recovering from a January shooting at its local school, and is part of the Keewatin Yatthe Regional Health Authority, which has the highest suicide rate of any health authority in this province, with 43.4 deaths per 100,000 people between 2008 and 2012. This past winter, Pimicikamak Cree Nation in Manitoba saw six suicides over the course of two months and 140 attempts in two weeks in March, and Attawapiskat in northern Ontario is in the midst of a suicide crisis, with 28 attempts taking place in March and 11 so far, this month.
What are the roots of this? If it's any help in narrowing it down, the Northern Saskatchewan Population Health Unit took a look at the data from several northern communities in Saskatchewan, discovering that mental illness is more prevalent in the north than anywhere else in the province.
It's cold, it's isolated, winters are long, and the days are short in the winter. There's not a lot to do during the winter, either. Boredom, depression and dysfunction are going to happen in those conditions. Things we take for granted down south like banks, theaters, hotels and rec centres, are nowhere to be found in many of the communities in the far north, like La Loche, where they have to drive 100 km to get a double-double from Tim Hortons. Reading accounts of the families of victims and people who've survived suicide attempts, there is a recurring sense of loneliness and despondency in each story.
Is there a concrete solution here? In Saskatchewan, in the wake of an election and in spite of the fatigue I feel about even bringing up anything vaguely political, I'll keep it simple: more investment. And when I say investment, I don't necessarily just mean, “Spend money."
The Sask. Party has promised a fancy telemedicine pilot, allowing doctors to connect with patients remotely, and that's a good start. But among former NDP leader Cam Broten's many election promises was one to establish a Ministry of Northern Saskatchewan, hire more mental health workers for that area, and establish and air ambulance base specifically to server northern communities.
Broten’s proposition was ambitious and troublingly, never officially given a price tag, but that doesn’t mean its principles weren’t valid.
I propose that the Sask. Party reverse-engineer the best of those ideas and see what practical use they can put them to, integrating them into their own strategy to improve quality of life in the north. Skip the bureaucratic ministry-creation, if that makes people cringe, and just look at the meat of the ideas - paying attention to the north.
With the way the vote went up there, it's clear many people in the area thought Broten had the right idea on some things.
 It’s only a solution for here in Saskatchewan, and maybe it won't be all feasible, but at the end of the day, something still needs to be done. Those forest fires last summer weren’t the only problem they have up there.
Remote doctor visits could be a godsend, but there is more than physical illness hurting people out there. Get them recreation programs, give them better Internet and phone services, and roads to connect them to larger centres more easily. Get more mental health resources, including therapists, family and crisis workers up there. Whether the problems are socio-economic in nature, or relating to deeper, more complicated intergenerational trauma on remote reservations, these people need a helping hand.
