Last-minute deal saves men’s shelter

A last-minute deal between the Salvation Army and Nunavut Housing Corp. has saved Iqaluit’s Oqota men’s shelter from threatened closure as of July 1.

The Salvation Army will continue to run the operation until the end of the year.

By then Nunavut Housing hopes to have other arrangements worked out to keep the shelter going. It intends to work with other service providers, the community and the Government of Nunavut, Hunter Tootoo, the minister responsible for Nunavut Housing and for homelessness, said in a news release.

The last-minute save means that approximately 20 men in the city without other options will not be put out on the street, a prospect that clearly worried some of the residents, although they didn’t want to be quoted.

At least three of those men are community elders. Others must deal with mental illness or addiction issues.

Facing a $300,000 “unmanageable deficit” over the 20-bed facility, which it had run since April 2007 — just over two years — the Salvation Army gave the government and landlord notice at the beginning of June that they would have to terminate the lease and close the shelter by the end of the month.

That precipitated a mighty scramble to find emergency funds to keep the shelter open and the men housed. Success came at the 11th hour and 59th minute.

Insiders said Nunavut Housing personnel and Oqota director Doug Cox had been working overtime to prepare for an emergency transition if the SA did withdraw July 1.

But finally the “Army” agreed to stay on for another six months to ease the transition, and to give Nunavut Housing a chance to develop a long-term, sustainable, operating strategy.

Major Fred Waters said the SA was pleased to have come to a mutual agreement with Nunavut Housing.

“Our primary concern is for the residents of the shelter, and this agreement will ensure a smooth transition in management without disruption of care for the people who call this shelter home.”

“I guess it’s home for me,” Pitsiuilaaq Arnaquq said. “I’ve stayed here since 2004. I used to stay with my aunty, but I had money issues with her.”

Home at the shelter means sleeping in a bunk bed, and sharing a room with six other men in conditions that are far from luxurious. There are showers, of course, a lounge with television, and minimal kitchen facilities (not including a stove).

Perhaps most important, especially for people like Arnaquq, 33, who has a physical disability that renders him more vulnerable to predators, is the assurance of a place to stay that is safe, and drug-and-alcohol-free.

“I wish they wouldn’t call it a homeless shelter, though,” he added with a shrug.

He used to stay at the “youth cottage,” when he was younger, he said. “I liked that name better. Maybe they could call it the men’s cottage, or the men’s cabin?”

“A lot of people here don’t have jobs, but I do” Arnaquq added with pride. “I found a job in April, working at the gas bar.”

Under current city zoning regulations for the residential neighbourhood in the “lower base” area of the city where the Oqota shelter is situated, it must be closed between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m.

Nor is it allowed to cook and serve hot meals, although pots of stew and soups, and fresh-caught country foods like char, caribou, seal or muktuk are sometimes dropped off by concerned citizens.

This transition may give Tootoo’s office a chance to consider changing operating procedures to offer full meals and daytime programming, something Cox has long felt would better serve the men under his care.