For Fort Providence elders, pension day brings visitors, thefts

Last Thursday morning at the Fort Providence, N.W.T. elders' home, Leonard Minoza jerked to attention at the sound of a boot on his front door, breaking the lock.

A man and his girlfriend, both known to him, barged inside.—

"All he said was: 'You got Grandma's money?'"

It was the end of April, and Old Age Security and Canada Pension Plan cheques were due to many of the home's elders.

Leonard told the man he didn't have any money and the pair went out his back door and down the hall to the room of 83-year-old Helen Canadien, a relative of the intruder's.

"He took her wallet. Took off on a quad," he said.

The same thing happened to her a month prior, in March.

Five of the seven seniors at the Fort Providence home get Old Age Security and pension cheques. Young people, most of them relatives, show up at the home the day the cheques arrive. They stay and drink with the seniors for a few days, until the booze and money is gone.

For the few days it lasts, the elders have plenty of company.

"They know we will get paid and somebody will come here," Leonard Minoza said.

"Then after that we're not going to see nobody 'till next pay day."

Pattern repeats

Gabriel Minoza, the home's caretaker, says he has watched the pattern repeat itself each month for the four years he's been employed by the N.W.T. Housing Corporation, living on site.

He said he gets three hours of sleep a night and keeps "one ear open," worried about the seniors he is tasked with protecting. He said his heart palpitations have worsened and anxiety is almost constant.

"I make sure nobody kicks nobody's door in, nobody breaks the windows, nobody breaches the building after closing," he says.

But his work extends beyond that.

"I drive people around, when they overindulge I cook for them, I give them a ride to the clinic... mostly I pray with them. And I talk with them about the consequences of what they're doing. "

All of the home's residents, according to Gabriel, struggle with alcohol addiction.

"Some have lost all hope," he says. "Some have gone to the point where, 'What's the use, what's the point?' To the point where alcohol is more important than food, than health, than well-being, friendship. The first thing on their mind when they wake up and the last thing on their mind when they go to sleep."

'If I don't drink, I'm going to be really sad'

Leonard Minoza sits in an armchair in the empty common area, watching children playing in the soccer field across the street, scanning the roads, as if waiting for a visitor to pull up at any moment. He stands, paces to another window, then retreats to his room.

He says he chooses to drink, even though he knows it's going to hurt. When asked why, he says: "I have to.

"I drink to have fun. If I don't drink, I'm going to be really sad. Always."

Caregivers come to the home at 8 a.m. to check on the seniors; they get their vitals done and any help they need, be it with meals, medications or laundry. But the abuse usually happens after hours.

"People hear about it, they will get mad at me," says Gabriel Minoza.

"It's your kids that did it, not my kids. You talk to them. Don't talk to me."

Caretaker quits

Once pension day passes, the building feels abandoned.

"Everyone is broke," says Gabriel. "It'll be quiet now."

Twice a month, he explains, the friendship centre puts on a dinner for the elders, "but they should take them on field trips. Take them down the river.

"These old people would love to go down the river and camp a couple nights in the bush, traditional food. These people would love that, would jump at the chance for that. But nobody takes the time to do that."

There are plans to change the design of the building, but the seniors want a security guard.

RCMP are investigating the thefts, but Minoza says he had reached his breaking point. He resigned on Friday.