ÎYÂRHE NAKODA – A decade has passed since the devastating 2013 floods wreaked havoc on Lenny Poucette's Mînî Thnî residence.
Despite the passage of time, the memory remains vivid as ever, much like the enduring presence of black mould that persists within his home years after the event.
“Black mould is all over my basement and in my washroom, and I’m still living there,” said Poucette. “Maybe that’s why I’m getting sick, I don’t know.”
Located atop a hill near the Bow River, Poucette’s home was one of about 60 per cent of those located in the Îyârhe Nakoda community damaged by flooding, predominantly due to rising groundwater as heavy rainfall battered much of southern Alberta for days on end.
In June 2013, more than 200 millimetres and up to 350 mm of precipitation drenched the front ranges of the Canadian Rockies before subsiding. Tributaries feeding into the Bow River, such as the Ghost, Kananaskis, Elbow, Sheep, and Highwood, and many of their tributaries, surged to alarming flood levels.
The water in Poucette’s basement rose several feet before he could initiate removal, relying on a rented generator to power a sump pump to drain the water for two to three weeks.
“Man, that was expensive,” he said.
In June 2014, the provincial government committed $345 million over a five-year period to fund repairs, rebuilds, relocations, and interim housing. This funding extended to Siksika Nation and to other Îyârhe Nakoda communities, namely Big Horn, west of Nordegg, and Eden Valley, southwest of Calgary, which were also affected by the floods.
But Poucette said he never did see a penny to help repair his home, not even to reimburse him for the cost of having to rent the generator.
If there’s one thing that got him through the hardship, it was managing to keep his sense of humour.
“I’m glad I’m a Beaver, my dad’s last name is Beaver, so I like to think I had a handle on it,” he said with a laugh.
“It would have made a big difference for me if I had the support to get my home back to how it was, but I just had to take it as is. Whatever happens, happens.”
Many living in the First Nation at the time faced the same challenges as Poucette, with added issues of sewer backups and flooded private roads, limiting access in and out. Many were also forced to leave their homes and live in temporary housing camps or shelter spaces.
Gavin Ear, who was housing manager for Bearspaw First Nation then, said there was never enough manpower to help pump water from flooded areas.
A role that already came with great responsibility, suddenly took on much more weight, and he leaned on his two young sons for help.
“It was a crazy time because I remember one morning we woke up and we had very heavy rain. We had lots of calls coming in from people saying their basements were flooding and they needed help,” said Ear. “My band was lucky enough to be able to support me with getting sump pumps, and so me and my sons – even though they didn’t work for housing and one of them was just a kid – got to work.”
Housing managers and support workers from the other two bands, Chiniki and Goodstoney, encountered a similar surge in calls and tried to get to help as many residents as possible with what resources they had.
“Some of them we couldn’t even get to because water took out the road,” said Ear. “Some of the roads were washed out and a lot of our residents were stranded.
“It took us a few days to figure out how to get to everyone, but I recall we got to the places where we could.”
In one instance, Ear received a call from a residence south of the Trans-Canada Highway. While they were home, water had “busted” through the door and started rapidly flooding their basement.
The residence, not unlike many others in the community, was home to multiple families. As such, there were instances where a basement flooded and may have left the rest of the home livable while pumping out water, but one or more families would need to be relocated anyway.
“Bad enough as it was, the impact was really magnified because of how many were affected from just one residence flooding,” said Ear.
To make matters worse, some of the homes were in disrepair to begin with. Cracked concrete foundations meant water could easily pass through. For some, flooding was common with much less rain than was experienced that summer.
Ear was busy dealing with his own flooded basement while trying to get to everyone else.
“Let’s just say I wasn’t sitting in my office for a while after that,” he said. “I was working seven days a week for a while, even with all my sons’ help. It was a really stressful time dealing with all the families who were at risk of losing or having to leave their homes.”
One moment Ear said he will never forget came one morning when he was helping at the Mînî Thnî Community School, which served as a base of operations for residents in need to obtain food supplies, clothing and other necessities.
“Looking out at the Highway 1A from the school, coming from the direction of both Cochrane and Canmore at the same time, there was a convoy of trucks, families with their ATVs coming to help the community,” he said.
“They brought in a bunch of supplies, and with these ATVs, we managed to get to some of the people we couldn’t before who were stranded at home.
“That was a very memorable moment in all of the chaos that I’ll never forget.”
Bill Snow, acting director of consultation for Stoney Tribal Administration, noted that while some help did eventually arrive, whether in the form of humanitarian or government aid, recovery was and continues to be a long and winding road for many.
There are some lessons, he said, that still have not been learned from the 2013 flood, or from the flood before it, in 2005.
“We had a lot of problems with communicating and getting the word out at that time. There was a lot of problems with our roadways which were washed out or became blocked with debris, and there was a lot of need for food and other basic services,” Snow said.
House inspections and repairs also dragged on much longer than needed, with some residents still claiming they never received the help they were promised.
Snow believes that with better government engagement with First Nations around land use, communities like Mînî Thnî, Big Horn and Eden Valley, can be better prepared for future natural disasters.
“We as Stoney Nation, and other Nations, should be part of the land planning process … Whether it’s natural disasters, floods, fires, whatever, we should be included in how that land use planning or those emergency services are delivered,” he said.
“Our infrastructure is not the same as other communities, the way our homes are distributed on the land is not the same as non-Native communities, so we have unique challenges should a catastrophe happen. It’s why I think we want to work a little bit more closely with all levels of government to bring these concerns together so we can be better prepared for an event like this in the future.”
The Local Journalism Initiative is funded by the Government of Canada. The position covers Îyârhe (Stoney) Nakoda First Nation and Kananaskis Country.
