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This is part of a series of profiles about the staff, leaders, and community members who are hard at work implementing Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation's vision for the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area. You can read the other profiles here.  JC Catholique was born on the land at Thaılı, the mouth of the Snowdrift River. After a short stint at the local day school, JC went to residential school when he was seven years old. “I can’t really say that I grew up in the community,” he says, “because I was away for so long.” JC attended Peter Pond School in Fort Resolution, Breynat Hall in Fort Smith, and finally Akaitcho Hall in Yellowknife. After graduation, he worked as a production technician with a video crew at Yellowknife’s Tree of Peace Friendship Centre.
JC returned to Łutsël K’é in 1975. He had a number of different jobs in the years the following, including managing the Łutsël K’é Coop. His life changed dramatically when he stopped drinking in 1985. For the next two years, he worked as a drug and alcohol counsellor before deciding he wanted to go back to school in 1987. JC completed a certificate in Indian communications arts in 1990 and a bachelor’s degree in social work in 2004, both at the First Nations University in Regina, SK. In the interim, he returned to his job as a drug and alcohol counsellor in Łutsël K’é. After finishing his social work practicum in Fort Smith, JC was hired as a social worker by the local health authority there, a position he held for three years. In 2007, when JC was hired as a cultural coordinator by the Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation, he moved back to his community. With the support of his Elders, JC worked to revitalize some of the community’s cultural traditions. His accomplishments include reviving drumming, fire ceremony, and handgames with the youth. JC’s work built on other revitalization projects, including the revival of the spiritual gathering at Desnedhe Che. Initiated by the Elders in 1989, the spiritual gathering has become an important annual event for the community. When a social work position opened up in Łutsël K’é in 2009, JC applied and was successful. He remained in this position until his retirement in 2020. JC’s uncle, Pierre Catholique, was Chief when the Government of Canada first proposed a national park on the East Arm of Tu Nedhé (Great Slave Lake) in 1970. JC was living in Yellowknife at the time, but he remembers hearing about the government’s proposal. “The idea of a national park upset a lot of people. We already had a national park,” he says, referring to Wood Buffalo National Park in Fort Smith. “There were a lot of bad stories coming from there. The people couldn’t hunt in the park, couldn’t take anything out of it, even though they were born there, living there.” The idea of a park resurfaced periodically, though it never had community support. It wasn’t until the 1990s that the people of Łutsël K’é seriously considered the idea. People became concerned, JC remembers, as they watched the diamond mines move into their territory. While there was a desire to protect their homeland, Łutsël K’é Dene remained skeptical about “the national park idea.” Ultimately, the Elders directed the Chief and Council and the community to find a way to protect their traditional land. It took years for the community to find a solution. “There were many public meetings,” JC recalls. “Leaders went from house to house, hearing concerns.” Eventually, through those discussions and meetings, “the community came to the idea that a national park could work but we had to use our own traditional laws, our Dene law,” to designate the area. The name Thaidene Nëné, which means “Land of Our Ancestors,” was chosen by the Elders. In the end, there was overwhelming support for the protected area. “More than 80% of our people voted in favour,” he says. JC participated in the meetings and discussions about Thaidene Nëné throughout this period as a community member. With his appointment to Thaidene Nëné Xá Dá Yáłtı, the management board for the Indigenous protected area, JC now has a formal role in providing strategic guidance to the parties as they implement Łutsël K’é’s vision for Thaidene Nëné. Thaidene Nëné is important, JC believes, because it protects the sacred area of the Dënesųłıné people: Ts’ąkwı Theda (Where the Old Lady Sits). “That area is special…sacred. Every time I go there, it brings me back in time. Everything is clean, quiet, all kinds of wildlife around. It is both a reminder and an example of how things should be not only for us, but for people all over the world.” For JC, Thaidene Nëné is about more than an opportunity to protect the land of his ancestors. It also presents an opportunity to revitalize Dënesųłıné governance, to move away from the institutions and practices imposed by colonial government, like the Indian Act. “The idea of using our own Dene Law was interesting. It made me think. What are our laws?” Answering that question is no small task. As JC notes, “There’s nothing written down. There’s no library for reference. Our guidance are the Elders and what we believe to be true from our heart.” Dene governance, JC has come to understand, is about people coming together and discussing the issue at hand. “When any kind of situation happens, we come together. We talk about it and come to an agreement. Everyone has a say and we all agree to the final outcome. It’s consensus style of governance.” It’s this fundamental principal of Dene governance, consensus, that is the foundation of Thaidene Nëné Xá Dá Yáłtı. JC thanks the Elders for their vision. “They set up that management board with GNWT and Parks Canada,” he says. “It’s good when everyone has the same vision, the same goal.” For all that Thaidene Nëné means to the people of Łutsël K’é, JC also thinks it can be a life-changing experience for visitors: “It will have a big impact on them and will maybe even change their perspective on how they view the land and nature. I think people can get energized just by being out here. They can also have a different outlook of things, of the environment.” In particular, “they can see what the environment is like when it’s clean.” Such an experience may inspire them to care for the land in the places they call home but also to care for themselves. “A person who is in tune with nature,” JC believes, “is also in tune with themselves.” Looking to the future, JC imagines “something like Banff National Park” for Thaidene Nëné with Łutsël K’é as the hub. “It would be good to welcome visitors year-round,” he says. “We have four distinct seasons—fall, winter, spring, summer. People can do different things in each season.” This will require more infrastructure. JC envisions an expanded airport, hotels and cabins at Duhamel Lake, and more opportunities for the community to showcase Dënesųłıné ways of life. The community will change, JC notes, but it will be worth it to choose tourism over industrial development, not only for the sake of the land but also for the people. “People experience life in different ways. For us Dene people, we experience life close to the land. We love our land. It provides a way of life for us. We live in an environment where there are many opportunities, but we have to work for it.” The Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area ensures that the intimate relationship that the Łutsël K’é Dene have with the land will continue long into the future. This is part of a series of profiles about the staff, leaders, and community members who are hard at work implementing Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation's vision for the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area. You can read the other profiles here.  Larry Innes’s journey to the Northwest Territories began in Ghana. Born and raised in Cardston, Alberta, and educated in Ontario, by the early 1990s, Larry was living in the West African country and working with humanitarian NGOs. It was in Africa where Larry came to see his country differently through the eyes of friends and colleagues: “There was a strong anti-colonial movement there at the time. People told me things I knew about Canadian history and society, but that I hadn’t really understood from a critical perspective, like the treatment of Indigenous peoples and that fact that apartheid was modelled on Canada’s Indian Act.”
Returning to Canada, Larry immersed himself in Indigenous history and struggle. He became particularly interested in land claims, which led him to do a Masters in Environmental Studies at York University. Larry explains, “I was trying to critically understand the land claims process that required people to map their stories, that enframed Indigenous perspectives in lines on a map.” Larry conducted his graduate research with the Innu Nation in Labrador, marking the beginning of a professional relationship that continues today. After completing law school at the University of Victoria, Larry returned to Labrador, where his work with the Innu Nation focused on Indigenous lands and resource management strategies. Larry’s introduction to the NWT came through the Canadian Boreal Initiative (CBI). As a relatively new organization in the early part of the new millennium, CBI was unique in bringing together Indigenous peoples, NGOs, and industry to recognize their shared interest in protecting the boreal forest: “CBI was trying to find a balanced approach, with a shared vision of protecting at least half of the boreal and using best management or stewardship practices on the reminder, all in a way that would advance Indigenous rights.” The Innu Nation with Larry as their legal counsel was at the table, as was Herb Norwegian, a key architect of the Dehcho Land Use Plan. Eventually, Larry would become the Executive Director of CBI, a position he held from 2005 until 2011. It was during Larry’s time with CBI that he got to know people in Łutsël K’é. The community, with “the Steves” at the helm, was already looking at options for protecting their territory. Larry came on board to help Łutsël K’é identify different models and resources that could help advance their cause. In 2010, when Łutsël K’é formally entered into negotiations for Thaidene Nëné, Larry joined the table as LKDFN’s legal counsel, and his visits to the NWT became more frequent. Eventually, it just “made sense” for him to be here full time, and he relocated to Yellowknife, where he is now the partner responsible for the northern office of Olthuis Kleer Townshend (OKT), a nationally prominent Indigenous rights law firm. While Łutsël K’é was committed to protecting their ancestral territory, they were equally concerned with having an agreement that would protect their rights as Łutsël K’é Dene. As the lawyer on the negotiating team, Larry took on many of the drafting responsibilities. More than putting words to paper, Larry’s task was to “make the words clear so that community members could see what they wanted translated into language that was legally enforceable.” It was also Larry’s job to push back against the government, and to create space for creative solutions. Larry, having worked both as a negotiator and as legal counsel at land rights negotiation tables since the early 1990s, notes that every negotiation has a similar rhythm. “Parties bring their interests to the table and then try to fashion an agreement that works,” he explained. What was different about the Thaidene Nëné negotiations, Larry says, was that while the community mandate was clear, the direction given to government officials was less so and thus more open to creative interpretation. In the end, Łutsël K’é’s vision was able to prevail, something that, in Larry’s words, “doesn’t happen in conventional land claim negotiations, where governments have very firm lines.” Less than two years into implementation, Larry’s hopes for the Indigenous protected area are already being realized. “I had hoped that Thaidene Nëné would provide inspiration to other communities wishing to protect their land and way of life.” And this is exactly what is happening. Larry is involved with several Indigenous conservation initiatives in the North that are able “to draw on the example of Thaidene Nëné and make it their own.” Larry also sees the impact that Łutsël K’é’s work is having beyond the North. He says, “I’ve stayed very close to the evolution of the discussion on how conservation functions at scale, but in particular how conservation can become anti-colonial. Thaidene Nëné is situated at the forefront of that conversation. It is a global model for conservation.” The transformative power of Thaidene Nëné is evident in Łutsël K’é as well, visible in the work of the Thaidene Nëné Department, the Ni Hat’ni Dene Guardians, and in the community more broadly. “LKDFN members are seeing new futures and new possibilities that don’t require them to be anything other than who they are,” Larry observes. “This is such a change from the past, when white people said now you have to ‘do this or be that’. Łutsël K’é Dene get to be who they are and decide how they will manage their protected area.” Though Larry has been working with Łutsël K’é for more than a decade, he feels like he has only “begun to scratch the surface of what Thaidene Nëné has to offer.” When asked about special places in the Land of the Ancestors, he makes note of Ts’ąkuı Theda (Our Lady of the Falls, Ɂedacho Kúe (Artillery Lake), and the village site at Kaché (Fort Reliance). Upon further reflection, though, he says, “It’s less a particular place than the impression of the entirety, the vastness. You can fit whole countries into Thaidene Nëné.” For Larry, the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area is truly reflective of Łutsël K’é’s vision. “I had the good fortune to spend time with the elders in the early years and their vision was clear,” Larry recalls. “Protect the land, protect the Łutsël K’é Dene way of life, and ensure that future generations are able to use the land the way the ancestors did.” Now, when Larry visits Thaidene Nëné, he sees “the land as it was, and as it will always be.” This is part of a series of profiles about the staff, leaders, and community members who are hard at work implementing Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation's vision for the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area. You can read the other profiles here.  James Marlowe is a jack of all trades. His resume includes, among other things, wildlife monitor, broadcaster, land claim negotiator, mine safety, council member, translator/interpreter, and businessman. As of August 2019, James can add tour operator to his resume. His new outfit, Rivers East Arm Tours, offers visitors the opportunity to experience Thaidene Nëné and others parts of the East Arm of Tu Nedhé (Great Slave Lake). Through Rivers East Arm Tours, James also hosts cultural camps for children and youth in his community. Regardless of who he is on the land with, James is committed to sharing Dënesųłıné language and culture.
The son of Madeline and Johnny Marlowe, James was born and raised in Łutsël K’é, though he has lived away from the community at points, including to attend Sir John Franklin High School in Yellowknife and Trent University in Peterborough, ON. His early experiences living and learning on the land have kept him grounded in Dënesųłıné language and traditions throughout his life: “I learned to be on the land at a young age. I went out with my family, but also friends. I learned how to fix rabbits and fish, I learned how to process caribou, moose, and other animals by watching the elders.” James was a member of the Thaidene Nëné Advisory Committee from its inception until the signing of the establishment agreements in 2019. In that capacity, he provided direction and advice to the negotiating team as they worked to protect the Land of the Ancestors. James continues to be an advocate for Thaidene Nëné as a member of Xá Dá Yáłtı. Thaidene Nëné Xá Dá Yáłtı, which means those who speak for Thaidene Nëné in Dënesųłıné, is the management board for the Indigenous protected area. For James, designating Thaidene Nëné an Indigenous protected area promises “the protection of our way of life, culture, and traditions, as well as the protection of the land, water, fish, animals, and birds for ourselves, but also for the future. And for those yet unborn.” Equally important is the economic potential presented by establishing an Indigenous protected area that also includes a national park reserve, including more jobs, training, and business opportunities for residents of Łutsël K’é. Lastly, James hopes Thaidene Nëné will create the conditions to share the Dënesųłıné culture and way of life with people from around the world. While all of Thaidene Nëné is special for James, he is particularly fond of Ɂedacho Kúe (Artillery Lake) because it is rich with wildlife. He also loves the sacred areas of Betsı̨ı̨ghıé (Utsingi Point) and Ts’ąkuı Theda (Lady of the Falls). Speaking about Ts’ąkuı Theda, James says, “I believe that she exists, that she helps people when you believe in her, that she heals people. There is strong evidence of our ancestors being helped in the past.” Protecting Thaidene Nëné, the heart of the Łutsël K’é Dene’s ancestral territory, also means protecting sacred sites like Ts’ąkuı Theda and ensuring the old lady will help the people of Łutsël K’é forever. This is part of a series of profiles about the staff, leaders, and community members who are hard at work implementing Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation's vision for the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area. You can read the other profiles here.  Steven celebrating with the Łutsël K’é Dene Drummers at the Thaidene Nëné signing ceremony in August 2019. “I’m a guy from Łutsël K’é,” Steven Nitah says, a smile in his voice, when asked to introduce himself. And while the statement is certainly true, he is much more than that. Steven has served as member of the NWT’s Legislative Assembly, as the community negotiator for Łutsël K’é at the Akaitcho main table, as chief of the First Nation, and as the chief negotiator for the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area. More recently, Steven has been an advocate for Indigenous-led conservation as a member of the Indigenous Circle of Experts (ICE) for the Pathway to Canada Target 1 and as one of four Indigenous leads with the Conservation through Reconciliation Partnership.
Steven Nitah was born in his traditional territory and raised on the land by his grandparents, Abel and Mary Louise Nitah, and his great grandparents on his grandmother’s side, John and Marie Tassi. His family lived at Fort Reliance so he knows intimately the area along Pike’s Portage to Ɂedacho Kúe (Artillery Lake) and the north and south shores of McLeod Bay. “There are many other special places in Thaidene Nëné, but those are the areas that I grew up in. That’s home.” It was particularly as the family travelled by boat that Steven came to understand his responsibilities as Łutsël K’é Dene. “When you’re travelling, you’re listening to the stories of the elders,” he explains. “You’re listening to your grandparents talk about your responsibility to your territory, to ensure that the land is there for future generations, but also that our way of life can continue long into the future.” Steven’s direct involvement with Thaidene Nëné began while he was a community negotiator. “I was part of the team that worked with Canada to have an area withdrawn as an area of interest for a national park,” he says. “This was part of the broader land withdrawal for the Akaticho Process.” Later, as chief, Steven played a pivotal role in developing the framework agreement for Thaidene Nëné, an agreement that bears his signature and that of then Enrivonment Miniser Jim Prentice. When his term as chief was coming to an end, the LKDFN Council appointed Steven chief negotiator for the proposed protected area. “The elders didn’t want me to be the chief any more,” he says, with his characteristic chuckle. “They wanted me on the negotiating table.” Imagining and then working to achieve the community’s vision for Thaidene Nëné was a long and arduous process. Negotiations were stalled more than once by delays, the most significant of which was caused by devolution. “The federal government,” Steven explains, “was in the midst of transferring a variety of responsibilities to the territorial government. They didn’t want anything to further muddy the waters.” The negotiating team and the community waited for more than a year to get things back on track. There was also a six-month hiatus around 2012 when Parks Canada was gutted by the Harper government. “Budget cuts, early retirements, staff layoff, all of that stalled negotiations,” Steven says. The negotiation process became more complicated in 2015, when the Government of the Northwest Territories came to the table. “Those were hard, imaginative negotiations,” Steven recalls. The GNWT had a mandate to reduce Thaidene Nëné to 7000 km2, which, as Steven notes, was “very close to the size originally laid out by Parks Canada in the 1970s.” Thankfully, the negotiating team with Steve at the helm was able to convince the GNWT of the value of economic opportunities beyond resource extraction. “Tourism was a burgeoning economy in the NWT at that time, so that helped,” Steven adds. In the end, Thaidene Nëné was only reduced by 7000km2 through negotiations. In spite of delays and obstacles, the negotiating team was successful in their efforts. In August 2019, the Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation designated Thaidene Nëné an Indigenous protected area (IPA) using their own Dene laws. Portions of the IPA are designated a national park reserve by Parks Canada and a territorial protected area and wildlife conservation area by the Government of the Northwest Territories. At final count, the protected area measures 26,376 km2. The creation of Thaidene Nëné is a testament to the determination and unity of vision of the community of Łutsël K’é and the skill of the LKDFN negotiators, but it is also a reflection of the spirit of collaboration between the parties that emerged as negotiations progressed. “Agreements like this don't come without active and willing participation by all the parties,” Steven says. “The negotiating teams for Parks Canada and the GNWT were willing to go that extra mile to do something different, to create a legal contractual agreement that recognizes Indigenous authority and jurisdiction.” “Through this many decades long process, there were a number of very interesting moments and very proud moments,” Steven notes. One such moment came in the early stages of negotiating when the Conservatives were in power. Recognizing the biases of the government under Stephen Harper’s leadership, the negotiating team put forward an economic argument for the proposed protected area. “We considered conservation to be important not just for the sake of the land, but also in terms of the economic impacts for Łutsël K’é,” he explains. The negotiating team was also successful in making the case for a lump sum payment, which the community would match through fundraising to enable Łutsël K’é to fulfill its obligations within Thaidene Nëné. This pooled funding became the Thaidene Nëné Trust, the first of its kind in Canada. The negotiating team very clearly took their marching orders from the community. “Our mandate, which we received from the elders,” Steven says, “was to implement the spirit and intent of the treaties.” To that end, the team sought “shared responsibility, shared authority, and shared jurisdiction,” a goal they repeated again and again to the other parties. Their persistence paid off; Łutsël K’é is not an advisor to, but an equal partner in the management and operations of Thaidene Nëné. The work of the negotiators and the community to protect the land of their ancestors reaches beyond the borders of Thaidene Nëné. It has already benefitted and will continue to benefit other communities in the NWT through the Protected Areas Act that was passed into law in July 2019. Not only was Łutsël K’é an active participant in the advisory committee that guided the drafting of that legislation, but their work at the negotiating table also shaped the letter and the spirit of that law. Łutsël K’é and Thaidene Nëné are also an example nationally. As Steven notes, “In an era where yesterday’s wrongs are starting to be recognized at multiple levels, Thaidene Nëné represents an opportunity to define the treaty relationship that Indigenous nations across the country have with Canada.” He adds, “There is finally an opportunity to implement the sprit and intent of the treaties both within conservation areas and beyond them.” Steven’s efforts to protect Thaidene Nëné were inspired by the elders’ mandate, but he also worked with his three children in mind. Looking to the future, Steven says, “I hope that the land continues feeding us. I hope we can continue to be Dene. I hope we can continue to keep the language alive, that we can tell the stories of the land in the language, in Dënesųłı̨né.” Steven also hopes that the economic projections the negotiating team and their advisors made become reality. “I hope Thaidene Nëné spells prosperity for our people.” This is part of a series of profiles about the staff, leaders, and community members who are hard at work implementing Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation's vision for the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area. You can read the other profiles here.  Addie Jonasson was born Adeline Boucher in a tent on Tędhul Dezé (Snowdrift River) in the fall time. For the first eight years of her life, she lived on the land with her parents, Joe Boucher and Judith Rose Laloche, and her siblings, Albert, Ernest, Fred, John, and Samuel. In the winter, the family stayed at Snowdrift. In the summer, though, they would travel around the lake. “The deep connection that I have to the land,” Addie explains, “is because my parents taught me their traditions. They passed along the knowledge.”
Addie’s first language is Dënesųłıné yatı. It was only when she was taken to residential school at eight years old that she learned to speak English. Though they weren’t allowed to speak their Indigenous languages while at school, Addie recalls finding ways to speak the language with the other kids from her community. “Most of us that went to school in the 1950s and 1960s kept our language,” she says. Addie attended residential school for 12 years, first in Fort Resolution, then in Fort Smith, before eventually graduating from Akaitcho Hall in Yellowknife. Addie married soon after finishing high school and left the North when her husband, Jerry, who was an aircraft engineer, was offered a job in Ontario. For the next 22 years, the Jonassons lived in Ontario, Manitoba, and Alberta. While Jerry worked on planes, Addie pursued a career in social work. The couple also raised two children: Laurice and Jennifer. In 1992, there was an opening in Łutsël K’é for a community social services worker. “I wanted to come back,” Addie remembers. “I missed home. I missed my roots. I especially missed the lake, the water, the space.” Addie, Jerry, and their children packed their bags and moved north. In addition to her work in social services, Addie has served her community as an elected official. She was chief of the Łutsël K’é Dene First Nation from 2006-2008 and a councillor from 2004-2006 and 2014-2020. It was while she was chief that Łutsël K’é signed a memorandum of understanding with the Government of Canada to advance work on creating a national park on the East Arm of Tu Nedhé (Great Slave Lake). Addie has supported Thaidene Nëné in other ways. In 2009, she answered a call for committee members for the Thaidene Nëné Advisory Committee. “The committee helped to make sure that we protected the area, the land, the water, the animals. We wanted to make sure that our way of life wasn’t disrupted, so we would continue to live as we have living since time immemorial.” Most recently, Addie was appointed to Thaidene Nëné Xá Dá Yáłtı, the management board for the Thaidene Nëné Indigenous Protected Area. (Xá Dá Yáłtı means those who speak for Thaidene Nëné in Dënesųłıné.) Along with the other appointees, over the coming months and years, Addie will provide strategic guidance to the parties (LKDFN, Parks Canada, and the GNWT) as they implement Łutsël K’é's vision for Thaidene Nëné. Addie speaks with a quiet passion about the need to protect the land of her ancestors, to ensure that the beautiful, peaceful, and abundant land that has sustained her people for millennia will be there for future generations. In her words, “When I talk about the land, I think about my grandparents who lived out on the land year-round. I want to make sure that our grandkids and great-grandkids have something to rely on, something to sustain them.” Addie has seen first hand what can happen without such protections. In the early 1970s, Addie and her family were living in Sioux Narrows. “One day, we were driving towards Dryden and we passed the Wabagoon River. The river was full of suds. That was pollution from the pulp mills. That memory has stayed with me. I never want to see anything like that happen to our lakes and rivers.” Addie sees Thaidene Nëné as an opportunity to invest in the land in the way that is different. “We’re not investing in a mine,” she says. “We are investing in the beauty of the land.” Creating an Indigenous protected area, which will attract people from across the territory and around the world, Addie believes, will sustain her community and its members in a way that the mines cannot. “Thaidene Nëné,” she notes, “will be here forever.” Addie invites visitors to experience the pristine beauty of her homeland. “Sit down by the shoreline. See the beauty, feel the tranquility. Experience the peace and the quiet. Hear the birds, the ducks. See the muskox, the moose, the bears in there natural habitat.” Do this, Addie says, and you will see why the people of Łutsël K’é are so passionate about Thaidene Nëné. “Our ancestors chose the best place for us. I say thank you to them all the time.” |
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