BeyondTheMargins

Taming a Black Bear (I)

August 22, 2025

The greatest pleasures of working for families is meeting people on a regular basis. People of all different ethnicities and backgrounds, people with multiple quirks, gifts, and weird and interesting personalities. As a clinician, you never really know what a common, seemingly innocuous looking man or woman is capable of until you look a bit closer… There is no such thing as “not extraordinary.”

A good clinician also possesses a few qualities. For example, a good clinician is able to replace the idea of ‘fear’ with the idea of ‘curiosity’ and ‘intrigue.’ This allows the clinician to remain detached and deal with a plethora of things without falling into the debilitating trap of judgment, attachment, and fear. It does not mean that the person is accepted for their wrongdoings or behaviors… It is the playground of the clinician to interact, extract, objectify, detach, and to sometimes just observe, all while appearing oblivious.

Image courtesy Google: movie Cocaine Bear (2023)

The movie “The Cocaine Bear” was released in the year 2023. For the unversed, this is a dark humor satirical comedy film about a grizzly bear who gets its hands on a stash of cocaine planted by two drug dealers in the mountains. Needless to say, the grizzly bear gets ‘hooked’ on the cocaine and goes on a rampage hunting down the drug dealers in the forest for his stash of cocaine. For those interested, I recommend this movie if you like dark satirical comedy.

But not many have encountered a real story of a bear hooked on cocaine…

Powerview Dam – Pine Falls, Manitoba

The Town of Pine Falls is a tiny town up north in Manitoba, primarily built around the Power View Dam. It is home to a generous population of First Nations, Cree, Métis, and Anishinaabe populations of Manitoba.

For the unversed, the bears and animals in general hold a special place in the bibliography and culture of the Native First Nations community of Canada. Manitoba is home to the maximum number of First Nations communities in all of Canada – a record 141 clans in total. For example, it is a common belief that bears are not to be hurt or hunted, for they may be a reincarnation of your own mother. The names of bears, bear claws, hawks, and eagles are regularly taken as last names. Dreams have a special place and are considered to be a form of higher language. The use of cannabis, herbs, and different ‘medicines’ are part of a normalized culture passed down through many generations. Needless to say, the First Nations indigenous culture is eclectic, spiritual, and full of ancestral knowledge usually derived from nature and its seasonal effects.

One of the responsibilities I executed for the job from time to time (albeit reluctantly due to the remoteness of the location and absence of employees), while working in Pine Falls, was to serve court docket papers to individuals residing in Pine Falls. Crime and drugs being rampant in Pine Falls and myself being one of the only staff in Pine Falls, I was regularly assisted by the local Royal Canadian Mounted Police to carry out the responsibility on behalf of the Canadian government. It would look a bit like being escorted around by a bunch of these guys around town for serving papers. You would have your sedan following 2-3 RCMP SUVs on the highway with sirens blaring.

As mentioned earlier, the Canadian government is rabid when it comes to its employees’ health, safety, and well-being. It would mean that if you have a client on the list who has multiple criminal indictments, either the police would serve papers for you on your behalf, or if you need to do this on your own, a bunch of the above tough-looking guys would assist you. No matter how hardened the criminal, the presence of just 2 cops with you works like a magic potion that makes everyone extremely charming and well-behaved.

As illogical as it may sound, in legal terminology it is imperative that a representative of the government department should ‘serve’ the papers face to face to the person at hand, and this is rarely ever compromised on. If the person refuses to ”be served’ or ‘take the papers’ from you, you can extend your arm that carries the court papers, drop the papers on the floor, and just say “you have been served” and walk away. As long as a government representative shows up at your door and sees you face to face, and drops the papers on the floor with the statement ‘you have been served’, there is no way out of ‘being served’.

Story time :

One of my strange clients who I was supposed to ‘serve’ was a man with multiple criminal indictments whom I had the pure privilege of having been able to ‘serve’ papers in person only just one time in 2.5 years of work, mainly because he was always on the run from the police. The rest of the time was spent finding out his whereabouts from the RCMP, visiting his mother’s home for ‘serving papers’ with the cops in tow, and driving around behind the RCMP, with the RCMP behaving like the guy’s best friends who had just about too many run-ins with him. It was as if they both ate and lived under the same roof now, the police and the mysterious man. “Oh, he must be here,” chuckled the officer, as we went to 8 different houses trying to ‘serve’ the man court papers. “Please just serve him wherever you may find him – if it is under some rock or across the ocean or up a tree – please, thank you,” I said as I handed the officer the court papers to serve him. Had he not been so elusive I would not have had a 2.5-year association with his mother and his family, and this would have been a one-time thing only. As luck would have it, he was always on the run from the law, and that required me to start visiting his family home with the cops in tow in order to be able to “serve him.” The association with the mother and his sister now continued for the next 2.5 years with amazingly strange and bizarre incidents.

Our client – “the elusive man” was a First Nations resident who had an antisocial personality disorder, a huge drug problem, and a lengthy criminal history. It meant that he was almost always ‘wanted and hunted’ for either one thing or the other. On the one first occasion where I did manage to “serve him,” he did not utter a single word to me, appeared “spaced out” and strange, and had absolutely nothing to say to me at all. Let’s just name him “the elusive man” considering he barely ever enters the picture at all. His mother, I will call her “Grandma,” because of her love/hate relationships with chihuahuas (a breed of dog which I vehemently dislike) and because she had no control over her children. “Grandma” is important as I will be writing more about her in the future. His sister would be “Bee,” because she just liked to bake a lot and she liked gardening.

Grandma’s house looked something like this, with a neighbor next door who had a fenced-in yard and a large dog in the yard.

It was a well-known fact that our client, “the elusive man,” was a voracious cocaine addict. His modus operandi had been to drop in at his mother’s home from time to time, do some coke, and then “flee” out of sight and out of mind when he came to know that the cops were looking for him. Such became his expertise in fooling the cops that every time I went to his family home with the police, I asked “grandma” where he was, and she would inform me that she did not know and that “he left just 2 days ago” or “he left just yesterday” or “haha you missed him! He just left a couple of hours ago this morning!” . . . The elusive man was so overconfident and aware of every nook and cranny of Pine Falls that he apparently came home only to do a round of coke and flee again from the cops… This was quite an ingenious method, and he made the police look profoundly and extremely stupid…

In 2.5 yrs of “attempting to serve” papers to the elusive man, it was imperative that I got to know the family more, chatted with them, got to know their quirks, their personalities, and a lot of many other things. The family opened up to me, and the sister “Bee” offered to bake me some indigenous “Bannock,” a First Nation cuisine, a kind of native bread made of dough and salt. It looked a bit like this.

As time went by, one of “Grandma’s” passions was small dogs, which she loved, called chihuahuas.

It was not the problem that the dog was a Chihuahua; the problem was that Grandma had around seven Chihuahuas.

These little things, with small and tiny brains (no offense to small dog lovers), were unrestrained and, on every visit, made rounds around the house in a sort of mad and insane “herd” like behavior, jumping from the dining table/chairs, back onto the couch, and then into the kitchen, all light brown in color and giving the impression of some group of wild deer or animals running wild into the Serengeti in Africa.

Grandma adored all her chihuahuas and was extremely possessive of them. Knowing dog lovers as much as I do, it is always wise to never comment anything unwise or negative about the pet in front of the owner, no matter how stupid-looking and annoying the pet actually may be.

Grandma’s neighbor was another First Nations community man with a much larger dog, a known aggressive and strong breed of dog – the Pitbull. Very full in musculature, and about 60-70 lbs. It is a well-documented fact that Pitbulls possess a specific gene that increases aggression, decreases impulse control, and Pitbulls are 2-3 times more likely to bite in the same location once they turn aggressive, making them more likely to cause casualties. Needless to say, Canada has very strict regulations on the ownership of Pitbulls; however, in a remote town like Pine Falls, where surveillance is limited, the inhabitants like to do just however they please.

On repeated visits, it became clear that Grandma and the neighbor were obviously not getting along. Primarily the neighbor’s complaints were that the set of wild and loose chihuahuas were sneaking onto his yard and were likely to become an easy target for his Pitbull. This led to constant rounds of bickering and arguments. Both separated their houses by a fence in between them, and as time progressed, Grandma’s comments about the neighbor next door and his dog became more and more vile, demeaning, and disgraceful.

Finally, the straw broke as was expected. I visited the home in around May of the year and found grandma irate and moody. It was grandma’s general disposition to be almost a “little off” and “drowsy” and “incoherent” on many and most visits [Note this point – important for later], and I was attributing it to her age of 63 and putting up with the strain of having a run-around son – “the elusive man” and the cops and the Department of Families always showing up at her door.

Must be exhausting, I thought to myself.

However, unfortunately Grandma’s favorite dog of the animal herd kingdom who she “lovingly” called “the psychotic”, had sneaked into the neighbors yard and had been decapitated by the Pitbull. Such was the carnage that nearly nothing was left of “the psychotic” except a few feet here and there and no last minute rites or funeral piers were adequately performable at what was left of him. “Bee” told me that “the psychotic” was one of the first chihuahuas grandma owned and he came around right after her husbands death leading to a great and intense sentimental value. As odd as it may sound i was somewhat sympathetic, sad and also strangely happy to hear the demise of “the psychotic”. A very odd mix of emotions, “one down six to go ” i chuckled – but nevertheless I vehemently and almost voraciously offered grandma my greatest sympathy’s of all time. I don’t believe i had ever been this shamelessly sympathetic before in a long time. What she did not know that in my mind maybe, i was on the neighbors side. I too had had enough of this unasked for animal safari on each visit. Afterall many people have dogs, but who has dogs like these? Never mind. I built some rapport with Grandma and told her ill come around next time with the cops, maybe “the illusive man” would return hearing the demise of “the psychotic”.

A Black Bear looks innocently at the camera.

The province of Manitoba has a very healthy population of around 25,000 to 30,000 Black bears in the wilderness. Pine Falls, being a community of some odd 1,400 individuals, is located remote enough to attract all kinds of animals that freely roam its vicinity. The sightings of the North American Black Bear are very common in Pine Falls, along with many other animals, such as the bald eagle, moose, the arctic wolf, white and red foxes, deer, elk, and also different fish like salmon and catfish which the bears feed on. The Black bear is intimately tied to the indigenous culture where it signifies values of spirituality, strength, wisdom, and healing. For many Native American tribes, the black bear is a spiritual guardian and protector, with some belief systems considering it a spiritual ancestor. Sightings of Black bears in your backyards, rummaging through your garbage, and eating plants and berries from your garden are unfamiliarly common in the town of Pine Falls. All these different cultural, socio-economic, emotional, zoological, geographical, and traditional variables and factors colace into our next chapter about the Black bear and its association with Grandma…
But we have Ansh here

August 20, 2025

One of the greatest motivations of the Canadian government’s social integration program is to focus on inclusivity and diversity with an abnormal and coveted spirit of absolute vengeance. Some would argue it is a type of revenge, a revenge from oneself, a revenge from the past, a disownment of the self, or maybe self-hatred. In a massive bustling city like Toronto, Vancouver, and Edmonton, this isn’t a difficult feat to achieve where immigrants regularly rally for jobs and the workplace is anyway a “colorful” integrated affair.

But what about the rural north?

Being the only person of color in the department comes with some incredible and unearned, odd privileges and strange circumstances.

For example, when the premier pays a visit, the administrative officer will like to boast about the incredible “diversity” in the department and turn to you.

If the chief provincial medical officer would pay a visit, the leading practice specialist and the admin will gleefully turn to you.

On repeated occasions of multiple events and with repeated instances of people “turning to you,” the whole affair became rather odd and cringe-worthy…

On one such occasion, when the deputy minister paid a visit, the administrative officer adoringly turned and said, “oh but we have Ansh here.” “Yes, but I am the only one you have” – I wanted to say. However, I played the part.

But doubts are put to rest when an innocuous comment ends up offending your colleagues and superiors far more than it could offend you.

On an occasion where a client went off the beaten path and made an unfortunate comment – the department stepped up, and the person was banned from the entirety of the building. A clear message of ‘those who cannot respect our staff’ are not allowed in the building.

‘Don’t let anyone talk to you like that,’ said the admin.
Churchill ..

August 20, 2025

A polar bear crossing sign in Churchill, Manitoba.

We’ve all seen a deer crossing sign on the roads, or a moose crossing sign on the road, and sometimes, often in India, even an elephant crossing sign on the road. But have you ever seen a polar bear crossing sign on the road? The only place in the world where you would have the privilege of seeing one is in Churchill, Manitoba – the polar bear capital of the world.

For the majority of the unversed, a Polar bear is the epitome of cuteness, a full-blown bear beauty that can indefinitely “do no harm.” Some people, particularly tourists who visit Churchill, even have strange fantasies of “petting the polar bear” or cuddling with it. Most people’s conception of a Polar bear is something like this below.

.or something like this below (courtesy google)

Which is precisely the problem….

What a polar bear actually, really, really and truly is, is something like this.

Every year during the summer, the small town of Churchill is flooded by tourists who fly in via an expensive charter plane through Winnipeg or arrive via the train to witness the town’s main two attractions: the Beluga Whales and the Polar Bears.

For the unversed, Polar Bears are so common in this town that you might just find one walking in and lounging around on the beach, trying to pet your dog (if it’s not hungry enough).

In particular, the Bear Hierarchy – and for those who are unversed with the north American zoological Landscape. The ferociousness of bears is ranked primarily in order of the North American Black bear being the most modest, docile, approachable and harmless of the Lot. The next in Line is the Grizzley Bear, a well known North American predator which mostly has a home in the Alaskan wilderness and in the American Andes. Although one’s chances of surviving a black bear are pretty high, as we climb the hierarchy of bears, the chances of survival in confrontation dwindle dramatically. The chances of survival if chased by a Grizzley bear are considered very slim. A Grizzley bear does not like to wait around to “kill” its prey but actively takes chunks out of the living prey regardless of its death. The chances of survival now go down even more to a minimal or a zero when we approach the Apex predator of the lot – that is the Polar Bear. Polar Bears due to their nativity of living in the north around minimal food resources are known to be unrelenting and unquestioning . The Polar bears hibernate in the ruthless northern cold and once out of hibernation – they are worse off than Grizzley bears, who are provided with much more ample food supplies around them in the forests. A Polar bear, once out of hibernation has just one instinct and that is to eat. That can be anything – Polar bears will eat dead whale carcasses, dead deer’s, dead animals, a dog, a human being, a cat, a deer – as long as it is a meal, it is a target for a hunt. Needless to say, inundated tourists who try to “pet the bear”, “hug the bear”, or “kiss the bear” or remotely “cuddle with the bear” are the Polar bear’s one sure shot fast food supply when it comes to a really good meal. What can be better than if Mac Donald’s’ comes right to you if you are living in the Tundra?

The attitude towards the bears can be summed up by a quote used by the Canadians .

“If it’s black, fight back. If it’s brown, lie down. If it’s white, good night”

The town of Churchill has its own, what is called a “Polar Bear Patrol” or “Polar Bear Police,” for driving out polar bears that wander inside the town premises. A large vehicle blaring with sirens and polar bear “cops” laced and armed with massive dosages of tranquilizers are equipped for the job. Every time a rogue polar bear “wanders” into town, sirens go off, and the wandering polar bear is driven out via a vehicle, tranquilized, and lifted via a helicopter and dropped off far away from the town premises. This is one of the full-time jobs of the Polar Bear Patrol in Churchill, and the Polar Bear Alert program is one of the heightened feats of Manitoba Conservation, one of the only in the world. Their job is also to educate tourists about the impossibility of ever being able to “pet” the polar bear.

Apart from the polar bear population haunting Churchill, there is another government department that works overtime and relentlessly for the benefit of the local population. It is called the Provincial Department of Families—the ones who employ me.

I visited Churchill on 3 different occasions since my tenure in Rural North Department of Families and it was in Churchill when my first experience occurred where i instructed a student to write a harm and danger statement for court purposes to “child is left alone to wander outside – maybe eaten by a polar bear”. Regardless to say, this was quiet unforgettable.

When the Department of Families came to Churchill, Manitoba, they thought that this project would be one big piece of cake. After all, Churchill was just a one-lane town with a few houses built around it, a population of just about 800, and all the department had to do was provide resources to this location, albeit via a charter plane. How easy could this be? …And oh, the simple, small-minded, innocent folks of Churchill, Manitoba…

It is ironic how even a juggernaut like the government can be deceived by the beauty of a small town like Churchill. What the department did not anticipate was that life in Churchill meant not having enough employment for the local population. Low employment, combined with isolation from the mainland and the harsh climate that kept people indoors, was a pathway to a couple of things: drugs, alcoholism, domestic violence, and crime, which intertwined from one household to the next, all challenged by an incredible dearth of resources to handle everything on behalf of the government. Providing resources now seemed an uphill task, with the majority of the resources residing outside on the mainland. De-addiction centers, health foundations, foster care homes, psychological assessment foundations, drug testing facilities, and the provincial courts all resided on the mainland, with the only way to get there being through a very expensive charter plane or by train.

My one week trip to Churchill cost the government $3000 for a 2 hr. flight along with the arrangement of a driver and living arrangements. It was in Churchill when I questioned for the first time the motivation of drug addicts to sneak in drugs through expensive private charter planes and through train rides. With a population of only about 800, mostly people related to each other, this led to a massive accumulation of open files every 15 meters.

It was like Churchill was now smiling and taunting the government – “not so EASY now IS IT? just 800? what did you really THINK????”.

Fortunately for me, I was to take trips to Churchill as a covering manager. The permanent manager sometimes being away on vacation, I shuddered to think how this role and position was even remotely manageable while sitting in an office in Beausejour. How does one file a case for sexual abuse on behalf of the government while sitting in Beausejour in an office? My respect for the expertise and coolness of the manager grew tenfold. I had my hands full with Pine Falls, and being in Churchill for a week in January of 2023 was like a visit to the South Pole where one resided continuously indoors and could barely go outside in -50 degrees.

8 days doing desk work on behalf of the government in the polar bear capital of the world, looking at file after file of harassment, drug usage, court papers, pending indictments, court dates, and conversing with very supportive colleagues about the best course of action to take with minimal resources around. Should we spend money to send a ward to Winnipeg? And how is that construction phase of the local foster care system coming along? We don’t want to be spending enormous money on charter planes transporting people back and forth from the mainland for subpar business, so how’s that negotiation deal with the province going for something more “on site”? If we do get “something more on site,” then we have to watch out for “conflict of interest,” and the hires cannot be individuals related to the inmates or wards (this is highly likely in a small town with a population of just 800). Worse, the employees need to be drug-free to be employed by the government—was this even a possibility in Churchill? Well, what are the alternatives? We need to pay people more for them to be employed in Churchill from the mainland, and how’s that going?

…oh gosh! Everything is so slow! Well then, let’s get a drink, shall we? ….Well, off to the local liquor store, here we go…. inundated by half the population in the client open file list roaming around in the liquor store…. and alcohol is almost 30% more expensive. They blame the charter planes, they said, and the cost of the transportation, and those godawful polar bears that kept them indoors.
So where was I?

August 19, 2025

I landed in Beausejour, a timid, remote French town in rural northern Manitoba, in April of 2022. A town where the inhabitants were settlers from the 1950s, and most of the houses were old, picturesque, and French, like those from back in the 50s when the town was established first for the purpose of the Korean War.

The town holding antique car shows from the 50s

My home in Beausejour – a 2 bedroom, established in the 1950s, an extremely cozy country home with a massive backyard and a detached garage. The back deck overshadowed by a massive tree, underneath which I hooked up a bird feeder for the squirrels and the birds. The home was sold to my landlord by my 84-year-old Polish veteran neighbor who spoke 4 languages – Ukrainian, Polish, German, and English. An incredible man who became my friend, taught me how to do crossword puzzles, built me a personal birdhouse for my massive yard, taught me Low German, and gave me a Ukrainian book. My other neighbor was the town mayor – who constantly mowed my lawn whenever he mowed his own yard – an absolute gentleman who did all this completely unasked.

Annual bike and antique car show in town

My job in Beausejour was to be the employee of the only government building in town, which was the main employer of most of the individuals who migrated into town. The rural northern provincial building – a massive beast set in the 1970s, with basement mazes underneath it and housing multiple antagonistic yet “we live together” government departments within its premises, such as Justice, Families, Wildlife Conservation (a big one for Canada), Probation, Employment Income, and the Police. A creepy, mysterious maze lingered underneath the old provincial building, and to discourage clients from getting lost in the maze, staff put out tapes on the floor directing people to their way out in case they thought they were about to encounter the Minotaur.

The rural north provincial building. A google street view. My office on the left wing basement on the other end of the canadian flag. The administrative officer of the building is Edwin Greenberg who welcomed me on my day 1 (the son of Dave Greenberg the founding father of Manitoba’s foster care system)

For most unfamiliar – the Canadian government is such a beast and so rabid about its employees’ health and well-being that if you complain about “mold” in the building (I was guilty of complaining but was not the cause of the actual reconstruction) – the government will go on a psychotic drug-induced haze of a million-dollar “reconstruction” project lasting about 8 months where it will tear down the entire left wing of the building and rebuild it once again. This may sound like hyper-effort for something like “mold,” but it did occur. Unfortunately, when I came around after the massive reconstruction phase (unaware that it had already taken place) – I again complained about “mold” in the building…. I was told to be patient now as those massive “drillers” outside were for the purpose of “getting rid of the mold,” and the building manager was astounded yet firm as “we were all in this together” now – the fight against the mold.

Beausejour being a French town – the energy of the town was cozy, neighbourly, a town where everyone knew everyone. This was a far cry from the German town Steinbach near it which housed me previously for the Southeast Manitoba government. The rivalry between the French and the Germans and their antagonistic cultures is apparent even in the Canadian prairies where German towns have been established post WW2 in the southeast and French towns take up the area in the rural north. The German towns (Steinbach, one of which I was employed previously with) have an incredibly different air of coldness, indifference, aloofness, reservedness and an overall “not much to do with you” vibe. The French town (like Beausejour) is an opposition in culture, behaviour and warmth levels – consider them nosy, warm, chatty and fluttery in behaviour. For a person like me from India, I would liken the comparison of Beausejour to very much being in an Indian neighborhood with almost everybody in everybody’s business – all the time. This was never the case in a German town – where even your daddy’s business was not your business and appointments are required for dinners with parents (being mindful of the parents’ time, age and energy). How these two countries came to be actual neighbors is a historical conundrum in itself.

My new arrival in Beausejour as the only person of color and an employee of the government quickly became well known and attracted immense curiosity and joy from the local natives. People wanted to know who the new “import” in town was and what the historical background was. All kinds of rumors swirled about the ethnicity of the new import – from half Italian, Indian, half Spaniard to a South American Ecuadorian, exemplifying the lack of connectivity of the local French population to the gentry living across the ocean.

The thing about small towns is that you don’t need to make too much effort “to make friends” – you are friends by virtue of being an inhabitant of the small town – as long as you act like you live in the small town. My 84-year-old neighbor was the first to introduce himself on the first day of my moving in; he reared the spare tires of my car and put them in the garage aptly without being asked. So began our friendship lasting a good 2.5 years, during which I had the privilege of barging into his home unasked, and he helped me around with the town gossip and also minor construction materials.

My home, a redone and maintained 1950’s French construction with an old geyser in the basement and handmade wooden hangers from the 50s’. Appropriate area for a bonfire used mostly in the summer time right in the backyard.

My workplace was a 5-minute walking distance from my beautiful home. The home, a sprawling 1950s construction, had lots of green yard around it and a back deck with a barbecue on board. Fortunately, the landlord took care of snow shoveling and also grass mowing of the massive area during both winters and summers. My routine consisted of getting inside my Lexus in the early morning hours and driving to the only coffee shop in town – Tim Hortons – and ordering a large coffee with 2 creamers. Sometimes I grabbed a few more cups for colleagues. Tim Hortons is Canada’s answer to America’s Starbucks, and for the unacquainted, it is better tasting coffee than Starbucks and seems to fuel every Canadian’s morning blood circulation to face the blasting winter outside…

For the outsiders, let me mention that the service in this particular Beausejour Tim Hortons was so bad that the locals dedicated an entire private “Tim Hortons Rant Page” to bashing the local Tim Hortons shop. Complaints encompassed all kinds of things – and the staff appeared to take revenge by drawing weird faces on cookies that were supposed to be smiling cookies.

Needless to say, once I settled in – I too was welcomed with arms wide open into the town’s private rant page. A loving and growing community of about 1.4k town ranters. Must I disclose more? What happens in a small town stays in a small town..

Town politics aside, I was welcomed at work by the administrative officer of the building, Edwin Greenberg (the son of David Greenberg – the founding father of Manitoba’s foster care system), and the leading practice specialist, who showed me around the old, maze-like Provincial building and also conducted the orientation at work after transitioning to the rural north area. I would be in charge of the Pine Falls office now, another remote town up north with a massive indigenous population of Cree/Metis and Anishinaabe. Keys were provided for the office up north in Pine Falls, which would take up my Tuesdays and Thursdays. My year would include occasional flights to Churchill, the polar bear capital of the world, up in the northern terrains, where the only inhabitants were the native populations of First Nation individuals of Canada and occasional tourists who flew in to witness beluga whales and polar bears. “Here are your keys for the Pine Falls office, this is your laptop, and this is your cell phone, and here is the code for the Pine Falls office along with your keycard and your ID card,” said the leading practice specialist.

The above is not a random “house”. It is a house bought by the province of Manitoba and converted into an office for the town of Pine falls. The “house” is equipped with first grade security equipment to protect data privacy and call in the cops incase there is a break-in within an astounding 5 minute window. The town being very remote and not having access to any normalized large buildings , this was the only option for the province. My sitting place for every Tuesday and Thursday.

The town center of the province for Churchill Manitoba, the polar bear capital of the world.

I took the keys, thanked “Dave” or “Davie Berry” as we liked to call him, and ended my first day at the office. Back in my new home, lying in bed, I reflected. So here’s my journey – born in Ranchi, India, a remote town. I grew up in the remote mountains in the north in another small town. I did some schooling, completed an engineering degree, moved to Canada, changed my stream, and got employed by the government of Canada. Tumbled to a German town and then onto a French town. Here I am in rural north Canada, the only person of color in a small 1950s French town, the only woman of color to work in Churchill on behalf of the government, about 65,000 miles away from home (a town accessible only by railroad and charter planes and plunging to -50) and handling a position of another remote town, Pine Falls. Working with the First Nations community of Canada (a community and culture I knew nothing about) – there were too many “I know nothing abouts” and “first time arounds” here – the French, the Germans, the First Nation Cree/Metis/Anishinabee, – and me. It doesn’t sound or feel so different, does it? – why? In a way, it does – in a way, it doesn’t. I dropped the schema in my brain and realized I never really even think about these things – it makes me surprisingly simple-minded and also incredibly adaptable, almost malleable as that of a slice of tin.
Hello World!

August 18, 2025

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