Coastal Communities Network -BACK ISSUE..Volume 7. Issue 3.

In April of 2001, long-time Kings County community activist Glanville Travis became the first person to receive a Lifetime Community Tenacity Award from the Coastal Communities Network (CCN). A Canning resident who fishes flounder in the Minas Basin and Upper Bay of Fundy, Glanville has been involved with CCN since its earliest days back in 1992, and he has also been engaged with many other community organizations over the years. Glanville developed and promoted a holistic approach to fisheries and other ecological issues long before such an attitude to the natural world became recognized as a valuable and useful one.

Glanville was born into a farm family in the Berwick area in 1937. His Dad went off to fight in World War II in the early '40s, and Glanville spent most of the war years in his grandparents' home. After completing Grade 9, he went to work at a bakery in Berwick, and he stuck at that job for six years. But he wasn't really happy with that work. "That sort of job had walls around it, and I wasn't too happy at the bakery," he remembers, "so I switched to work that didn't have walls. I went into the construction field."

In 1957 Glanville got married, and the next year he started working as a deckhand on a fishing boat. "We did lobstering and handlining cod for the salt trade market," he tells me as we sit at the kitchen table of his nineteenth-century home. "In the winter I worked in the woods or did whatever else it took to earn a dollar. Everyone needs a few dollars, but not all that many of them. All anyone needs is a roof over their head and a loaf of bread on the table."

In 1964, the Travis family moved to Canning. Looking around the Travis family's kitchen today, it's pretty obvious that Glanville didn't do too badly in the roof-and-bread department. He and his wife Edith raised a boy and two girls in their Canning home. One daughter is now helping raise a family of her own in Canning, while Charles Travis lives in Wolfville and fishes with his Dad. The other daughter is a nurse in Houston, Texas. "She would much rather be back here," Glanville says. "I talked to her just the other day. There was a bomb scare where she works, and they had to evacuate this whole 27-storey medical complex. She doesn't like that sort of life. She wants home."

In his early days, Glanville liked a nip of liquor a bit too much, but, in 1977, he remembers, "I threw the bottle away, because my life wasn't making any sense. So I smartened up, and that's when I started getting involved in my community. I saw the needs of drunks and other unfortunates, and I started exploring the human side of people, offering counselling on both a formal and informal basis. Or just seeing that some family needed wood for the winter but didn't have any — well, I'd try to help them find a way to get it and stay warm, if they'd let me."

Glanville looks back philosophically on that time in the late '70s when he turned his life around. "That old fellow upstairs, he knows what he's doing," he reflects. "Myself, I'm not a churchgoer, but I can take a rod and a few flies and have just as much a communion with the big guy as anyone in any church."

By the 1960's, Glanville was fishing in his own right for lobster, and was also catching some herring and cod to supplement the family income. In the early '70s, he started fishing for flounder, and has been at it ever since. Although he doesn't like to do so, he trucks his fish out of the area because there are no longer any fish plants in the upper Bay of Fundy. "I only get 30&#cent a pound for my flounder," he says, "and in the stores you'll see it selling for eight dollars. There's a lot wrong with that picture. And even my 30&#cent, that doesn't stay in the community. We need to develop a system where we can develop local markets, and keep the money working for the community. To do that we have to manage our resources at the community level, and work toward getting a decent price for both the harvester and the consumer."

To that end, Glanville is involved in a pilot project being set up by the Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO) to develop local markets for fisheries products harvested in the area. The five-year project involves a DFO official, an academic from Acadia University, as well as Glanville and three other community-based volunteers. "Policy needs to be made in the communities it will affect," Glanville says, "not come down on-high from Ottawa. Communities need to get hold of policy-making power as part of the process of educating people in those communities. It's no good for the powers-that-be to say, 'You aren't educated, so you can't help set policy.' I have a master's degree in the trees and the sea, and it's just based on common sense. It's called experience."

Over the winter, Glanville keeps his 43'11" wood-and-fibreglass boat Terri and Sandy sheltered by plastic at the end of his driveway, and he tows the boat to nearby Delhaven to fish flounder from June until mid-September. "We don't start fishing until the flounder have spawned, and they do that at precisely 42&#ordmF," he explains. "So we wait for that. All creatures play their part in this nature of ours. If we take something from nature, something has to be given back." When Glanville goes with his rod and flies to commune with the man upstairs, he uses barb-less hooks. And, if he catches anything – which is hardly the central point of the exercise – he carefully releases the creature.

Although the fishery has provided his family's livelihood for decades now, Glanville also has spent a lot of time in the Nova Scotia woods, and his thoughts about our forestry resources perfectly complement his ecological outlook toward the fishery. "When you fish in Minas Basin," he tells me, "you have to know the contours of the bottom, and to know the biology of what you are fishing for. Then you have to plan the way you harvest so that the species will be there the next year, the next decade, and the next generation. In the forestry, the 'experts' tell us that a birch tree lives for 50 years, so they cut it down at 45 and replace it with a spruce stand. That doesn't work over time. The next generation will have more spruce and less birch. It doesn't do the ecosystem any good. And that sort of practice all comes down to greed."

Glanville's caring for nature is reflected in his family's make-up: there are four cats and a dog in the Travis household. "They were all orphans with no homes of their own," he explains. "A few years ago, a lady was walking along a path at Blomidon Provincial Park when she heard the sound of a kitten's mewing. She got the Park staff's attention, and they found a bag of kittens on a cliff ledge. One was still alive," Glanville tells me, pointing at a comfortable-looking white cat. "That's Cliff the Cat."

Another of the Travis felines, a white angora, won its way into the family hearth by adopting Glanville's boat. "I always take canned milk for my coffee when I'm at sea," Glanville says. "I'd give some to this cat, and it took to spending all its time on my boat. When fishing ended that year, I asked around, but nobody seemed to own the cat. Then I asked this one fellow, 'Is this your cat?' He answered, 'It was, but I think it's yours now.'" And so it is.

Like most small-boat fishermen, Glanville isn't happy with the way DFO manages the fishery. "I can't take a fish that I caught off my boat and cook it in my kitchen, because of DFO regulations," he says. "It's crazy, the regulations they have."

When you drag for flounder, you inevitably catch other things as well. Shaking his head, Glanville tells me that he once dragged up the husk of a 1939 Oldsmobile in his trawl. Another time, in 1994, he and son Charles caught an 18-inch halibut while dragging. It was smothered on deck when the drag was landed. Nonetheless, because DFO regulations dictate that a flounder less than 32 inches long must be returned to the water with "as little harm as possible," it is illegal to land such a dead fish. Somehow, in the hurly-burly of fishing, this halibut ended up on ice. A DFO inspector based in Parrsboro came on board, confiscated the fish, and charges were laid against both Glanville and Charles. Glanville appeared in a Kentville court, and the frozen halibut made the trip from Parrsboro as evidence. Glanville pleaded not guilty. A trial date was set. The halibut again made the Kentville-Parrsboro round trip. There was a postponement. Halibut and Kentville-Parrsboro times two yet again. Then, after more travel from the Parrsboro freezer to Kentville and back, Glanville was found not guilty. While all this was happening to the now-very-well-travelled- halibut, Charles was going through a legal process of his own. He pleaded not guilty, and was found to be so. DFO appealed, and the halibut continued its frozen back-and-forth odyssey. Finally, in front of the still-frozen but now decrepit halibut that had been dead and frozen for four years, Charles' acquittal was overturned, and he was fined the handsome sum of one dollar.

"That's just one example of the way thousands of dollars of taxpayers' money can be mis-spent by DFO," Glanville says. "Surely there can be better uses made of its funds. And, it cost us more than $8,000 in legal fees to defend ourselves. But, at least that frozen halibut was at last put to rest! There are a lot of well-intentioned people who work within DFO, and many of them do good work. But, a lot of really bad policies also come out of DFO in Ottawa ."

Glanville also has a musical bent, as is evident when he brings out his two beautifully crafted mandolins and begins to tell me about the details of their construction. "We have a pretty informal group that jams together," he says. "There are five of us and we play country-and-western music, bluegrass, traditional music – anything really. We play at seniors' clubs, at fundraisers for the volunteer fire department, and to support other community organizations. We're like a family, the five of us, and the community."

Glanville has been contributing to the lifeblood of the "family" that makes up Kings County for quite some time now, but he shows no signs of slowing down. I ask him where he sees himself in five years, and he responds, "I hope to be fishing, because I want to be on the water as long as I'm able. But I take it all one day at a time. As long as I can get in my boat every day, I'll keep going out on the water."

And as long as Glanville Travis can climb aboard his boat, strum his mandolin, or find wood for those in need, the people of his community will continue to be just that much better off for his heartfelt efforts.

Coffee, Culture, and Community Development

There are some areas of rural and coastal Nova Scotia where getting a cup of Tim Horton's coffee is still impossible, but in the time it takes you to read this article, I wouldn't be surprised if yet another franchise is opened somewhere in the province. They seem to grow like un-matching socks in one's bureau drawer. And they rarely seem to fail.

Several years ago, Timmy's began building in the Cape Breton village of Cheticamp. People there were very sceptical. "Cheticamp is an Acadian community," says Math Poirier, Development Officer for the Cheticamp Development Commission, "and everybody knew that Acadians drank tea, not coffee. So the whole idea was a big joke. But within a couple of years everyone was meeting one another at Timmy's and swilling their coffee. The opening of that franchise was a prime example of how outside forces can have a big impact on a culture. Now, Timmy's is a major employer here. Cheticamp is a mix of new and old."

Math Poirier certainly has that right. The largely French-speaking Acadian community has a very rich history, and its people take pride in their cultural heritage. But, at the same time, they are using the Acadian culture of both past and present to develop their future.

Cheticamp is almost the most northerly in a string of communities along Cape Breton's Gulf Shore that begins about 25 kilometres south at Belle Côte and ends at the entrance to Cape Breton Highlands National Park. In all, about 4,500 people call the communities along this shore home, and 3,000 of them live in Cheticamp itself. Cheticamp is made up almost entirely of Acadians, though about 25 percent of the population along this whole stretch of coast are anglophone. The language-and-education issue is a big one in this area. "Just about everyone in the village is bilingual," Math tells me as we sit in his small office at the Cheticamp Development Commission. "Before the mid-1980s," he says, "we had a bilingual school here in Cheticamp, but now there is an anglophone school that also offers French immersion just north of Belle Côte, as well as a purely francophone school here in Cheticamp. They both run from Primary to Grade 12, but here are more kids at Belle Côte's school than the one here because lots of people in Cheticamp send their kids there to get the best of both worlds. And the facilities offered at Belle Côte are much more up to date than those in Cheticamp."

"The Acadian culture here in Cheticamp is vibrant and thriving," Math tells me, "but it's a uniquely Cheticamp brand of Acadian culture. It's a culture of this particular village, even before it's a part of the broader Acadian culture. It goes right down to unique Acadian French we speak here. It's a mix of both Acadian French and English. There is a stress on bilingualism here, perhaps like nowhere else in the province."

The modest, main-drag office of the Cheticamp Development Commission is something of a drop-in help centre. "We get rush hours here on a regular basis," Math says. "Someone can't read to fill out his government form, someone needs help with his Employment Insurance (EI) claim, someone else is having problems with Workmen's Compensation – we try to help them all. Usually, it's a simple misunderstanding that gets worked out without much trouble. But sometimes, with EI claims especially, it can be less than simple to get a claim put back in the stream once someone has been declared ineligible." Arbitration hearings are held in New Glasgow for people in the Cheticamp area unhappy with the way they have been treated by the EI system, and that can be much more than a minor obstacle, particularly for someone who is both unemployed and without income. "Sometimes, just a phone call can fix things up," Math says, "but I often have to make the 50-kilometre drive to Inverness, where I can have input into the New Glasgow arbitration proceedings by phone. We haven't lost a case yet."

Cheticamp, like the rest of the world, is subject to the trends and tensions of the modern world. "The idea of a mercenary culture is growing a bit even here," Math tells me. "When we help people out, they'll often ask how much we want for our services. But it's free, and we refuse any donations for our advocacy services. If they persist, we'll ask them to buy us a Timmy's coffee or a blueberry muffin."

Cheticamp may have its share of the unemployed, but the three pillars of the economy –the fishery, tourism, and local crafts – keep the economy steaming along. The village's three fish plants employ more than 400 people who are kept busy, at least seasonally, processing lobster, snow crab, and groundfish. Tourism is a mainstay, and Cheticamp markets its Acadian roots to attract visitors. The Cheticamp area has been promoted in tourism ads aimed at the Quebec market, and signs along its seaside boardwalk are in both official languages. The Cheticamp area is beginning to gear up for a huge influx of tourists in 2004, when Nova Scotia will host the Third World Congress of Acadians. The first was held in New Brunswick in 1994, when more than 300,000 people gathered from around the world. A second was held in 1999 in Louisiana, and the third, to be held at various locations across the province, is expected to attract as many as 10,000 people to the Cheticamp area.

"The 2004 festivities provide us with a great opportunity," Math tells me, "but they also put challenges in our road. There are a total of 242 rooms available in this area for accommodation, and all of them are booked every summer. We're going to have to do some major improvising, because if you have 10,000 people coming here without any place to stay, what you'll have is 10,000 people who will never come back. And getting them back is the key to future jobs, so we have our work cut out for us."

The bedrock of Cheticamp's craft industry is rug hooking, delicate and very detailed work done mostly by women in their own homes. The area's hooked rugs will be a major feature next year at Les Trois Pignons ("The Three Gables"), where Lisette Cormier guides me around renovations currently underway.

"Hooked rugs will be on prominent display in the main foyer by spring," Lisette tells me. Les Trois Pignons also houses a genealogy centre on its main floor, while downstairs are the studios of CKJM, a French-language cooperative radio station that does much to foster the area's unique culture.

After a trip back to the Development Commission, Math and I don hardhats and head next door to a new building that's still under construction. "A pirogue is a traditional Acadian boat," Math tells me as clamber up the unfinished staircase and step inside, glad to be out of the almost gale-force wind whipping off the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. On its main floor Le Centre Pirogue will house a museum with two main themes. The first will celebrate and document Cheticamp's roots in the co-op movement, while the second will tell the story of the economic system set up in the area during the nineteenth century by merchant traders from the Isle of Jersey in the English Channel. Downstairs, there will be an exhibit titled "Gallery of the Sea," featuring the stunning underwater photography of Nova Scotia artist Gilbert van Ryckevoral. Upstairs, there will be video-conferencing facilities, boardrooms, and meeting space for the entire community.

Math points out a number of solar panels as he speaks: "Le Centre Pirogue is a million-dollar project that will provide eleven secure jobs and be a great asset for Cheticamp," he says, "and, when it is complete, 75 percent of the energy it uses will be from renewable sources. If it works out well, this facility could serve as a great example to others."

Renewable energy, particularly wind power, was a hot topic in the Cheticamp area this past spring and summer. In an effort to harness the strong winds that blow off the water, Nova Scotia Power proposed to build two very large wind turbines on nearby Cheticamp Island. The company hoped to showcase the potential for environmentally friendly wind power with its Cheticamp Island project, but many local people became concerned about how the turbines would affect the view from the village. Cheticamp sells itself to tourists by emphasizing its Highland land and seascapes. After meeting local opposition to the Cheticamp Island plan, the power company abandoned it.

"The Development Commission isn't against wind power," Math tells me. "In fact, people in Cheticamp are all for windmills: it was simply the proposed siting of the turbines that was objected to. We hope Nova Scotia Power will come back with another proposal, because there are plenty of sites other than Cheticamp Island that would be great for generating wind power." It remains to be seen whether the company will do as Math hopes.

The Cheticamp Development Commission was instrumental in getting the village's boardwalk built in the mid-1990s. "The boardwalk gives visitors another reason to spend more time here," Math explains. And, it seems that a lot of people do, because 10,000 to 15,000 people visit the small Visitor Information kiosk along the boardwalk every year. "We are trying to get a Community Access Point on the boardwalk so visitors can check their e-mails," Math says. "We've also been asking the province to upgrade the kiosk to a full-blown Visitor Information Centre. Now, there are three or four seasonal jobs on the boardwalk, but getting the higher status would provide more jobs for the village."

With its 3,000 people, Cheticamp is bigger than a lot of towns in Nova Scotia, but few people want the village to seek municipal status. "We wouldn't want to be seen as abandoning Inverness County," Math says. "The Development Commission is responsible for infrastructure along the waterfront, while the Municipality maintains the village's sewer system. It's a good partnership."

Sometimes, however, it can take a little initiative and enterprise to secure municipal services for the village. Last winter was a bad one in terms of snowfall for Cheticamp as well as the rest of the province, and the village's sidewalks were not getting properly cleared. "A group of people got together and raised the funds needed to buy a snowblower," Math recalls. "Then they set up a system of volunteers to keep the sidewalks cleared. This year, the Municipality has taken over responsibility for clearing Cheticamp's sidewalks."

Getting a snowblower and then a municipal service might seem tiny steps in the development of the economy of Cheticamp and area. And they are. But the community is blessed with many, many people who see their way forward one small step at a time. As I grab a coffee to warm me on the long drive back from Cheticamp, it occurs to me that things are looking up for the Cheticamp area. But, the only convenient place I noticed along the community's main street to get that coffee was – you guessed it – Timmy's.

For more information about Cheticamp and area, visit www.cheticampns.com, or call the Cheticamp Development Commission office at 224-3349.

Of Open Ears and Sustainable Communities

Over the weekend of October 18-21, 125 people gathered at Kespuwick Training Centre in Cornwallis for a conference on the theme of "Celebrating Rural Diversity – Building On Common Ground." About 25 percent of those gathered were government officials, and they were there to hear from the other 75 percent, people from rural organizations across the province involved in the social, cultural, health, economic, and environmental sectors. Over two-and-a-half days, 27 small interactive groups gathered to hold very stimulating and productive discussions. They discussed lessons learned and identified best practices for innovative and sustainable approaches to rural community development. A Rural Youth Forum engaged twenty young people in exploring the issues and roles of rural youth in Nova Scotia. The conference had four objectives:

A number of key issues, messages, and action items emerged from the many discussions over the weekend:

The Rural Secretariat is a section of the federal Department of Agriculture that acts as a strong advocate for rural Canadians, but it needs to establish a base in rural Nova Scotia in order to do its job more effectively.

These are just some of the issues that rural Nova Scotians brought up and discussed with government representatives at Cornwallis. It was quite apparent that the government people present were listening. What they heard was that the very structures and guidelines that government employees themselves work within do not adequately serve rural Nova Scotians. Changing those structures will be a huge job. But, with the will, a way can be found.

A draft report on the Cornwallis conference is being prepared by the Rural Secretariat and should be available early in the new year. A National Rural Dialogue is also planned for some time in 2002. For more information on either of these, or for more information on either the Nova Scotia Rural Team or the Rural Secretariat, contact Keith Cossey at 426-8570, or e-mail at kcossey@acoa-apeca.gc.ca.

A Place to Live, or A Place to Play?

In late September, a provincial Voluntary Planning Task Force released an Interim Report titled Non-Resident Land Ownership in Nova Scotia. The Task Force held seventeen community meetings attended by 455 people, while more than 200 people sent it written submissions.

The Report's findings might come as a surprise to some. Again and again, Task Force members (including both Arthur Bull, Chair of the Coastal Communities Network and Vice-Chair Pam Harrison), heard that where a landowner lives is of far less concern to people across the province than is the issue of access to land – and particularly access to coastal areas. Clearly, Nova Scotians feel we all have a right to enjoy the natural beauty that surrounds us, regardless of who owns what. Two of the Task Force's twenty recommendations were that government should not impose any extraordinary tax on non-resident landowners or limit the size of their holding. Four more suggested ways the province might keep better track of who owns what in Nova Scotia, while another suggested establishing an agency to develop a long-term vision for land use in the province. Three more recommendations dealt with ways communities could become more empowered when it comes to properties that are precious community assets. The Task Force's final ten recommendation all addressed issues of public access.

Access is certainly an important issue: as the Task Force heard, Nova Scotians feel very strongly that we all have the right to enjoy our seacoasts and lakesides. But access is not the only issue. As people from Nova Scotia, from elsewhere in Canada, and from other countries have come more and more to appreciate the value and beauty that Nova Scotia has to offer, land prices in some areas of the province – the South Shore and the Bras d'Or Lakes region come immediately to mind – have skyrocketed. And this, in turn, has led to escalating tax assessments for many landowners. In some cases, annual tax assessments have risen as much at 400 percent, even though no property improvements have been made. This trend is threatening many families that have lived along our shores for generations with tax bills they cannot possibly meet. If this trend continues, large numbers of Nova Scotians will be forced from their ancestral homes.

What this really boils down to is two different ways of looking at our land. One view is of the land as a place to live and work, the other is of the land as a place to play or relax. Nobody can blame folks – no matter where they may come from – for treasuring the beauty this province offers. And there are livelihoods to be made in providing services to those who come here to visit. As well, surely people who come here to visit, fall in love with the place, and so decide to buy property here do not at all intend to force Nova Scotian families from their generational homes. Nonetheless, under the current tax structure this is exactly what is going to happen (if it hasn't already). So, that tax structure must change, and sooner rather than later.

This issue of rising tax assessments in some parts of the province was not part of the mandate of the Voluntary Planning Task Force. Nevertheless, it is nothing more than common sense to see that when people from away (or even from Halifax, for example), come in and offer large sums of money for prime recreational real estate, taxation levels for long-time residents can be negatively affected. So, the Task Force saw fit in its Interim Report to bring the matter of rising tax assessments in some parts of the province to the attention of the provincial government.

Something must be done to assure that the view of the land as a place to play does not make the land a more difficult place to live. It has been suggested that tax assessments for properties that do not change hands should not be allowed to rise by more than the value of property improvements made, or in the case of unimproved properties, at a rate higher than the overall rate of inflation. This would have the very positive effect of not forcing those with limited means from the land as property values rise around them. It would not, however, protect Nova Scotians from very large increases in tax assessments when land is passed within families from one generation to the next.

The whole issue of property tax assessments in an age when land prices rise is a complex one. But, somehow, a solution must be found. Nova Scotia is one of the greatest places in the world to play. It must continue to also be one of the greatest places in the world to live.

To read the Voluntary Planning Task Force's Interim Report, visit www.gov.ns.ca/vp/, or phone 424-0580 for a hard copy.

Cons, Kids, Community, and a Magic Bus

In January of 1998, newly hired by the Staffordshire Probation Service in the North of England, I went with my colleague, Dave, to see a big green double-decker bus. Our job was to take it out onto the streets of the local villages and to "get it used." Over the next three years, the bus became a familiar sight to local residents, was visited by the Queen, and won a national award presented by Princess Anne. But on that first cold day in January 1998, it was just, as my colleague Dave put it, "a bloody big bus!"

In August of this year, after three-and-a-half years on the "Big Green Bus Project," I moved back to Canada, where I grew up. I'm telling you about this bus because I suspect something like it could be just the thing for rural and coastal communities here in Nova Scotia. At first sight, there might not seem to be many similarities between here and the North of England, but you might be surprised...

The target of our operations, the Newcastle Western Urban Villages, is an area of approximately 4,500 homes spread over five villages or "estates" around Stoke-on-Trent, a region that historically has relied on mining and the pottery industry for most of its employment. Both industries have suffered extensive closures over the last few years, with the last deep-shaft mine in North Staffordshire closing in 1999. Not surprisingly, unemployment in the area is high, roughly ten or eleven percentage points above the national average. Educational levels are low, mainly due to the historic expectations local people had that they would easily find unskilled work in the pottery factories and mines. Health levels are also low. But what can't be measured with statistics is the level of apathy in the area. Many families are experiencing second-generation unemployment, and it can be difficult to convince people who have spent their whole life on assistance that they can change things for the better.

The Big Green Bus is probably best described as a mobile community centre, a double-decker that has been cleared of passenger seats and fitted with numerous electrical outlets and a small kitchen. The only seats available are upholstered benches at the back of the upper and lower decks, so most of the space is left clear for whatever event is taking place on board. The bus also carries collapsible tables and chairs that can be used along with the fixed seating.

The bus was the brainchild of Brian Campbell, now a retired Senior Probation Officer. It was purchased from Cheshire Youth Service in 1996 at a cost of &#pound;4,000 (about $9,200) and a further &#pound;9,000 ($20,700) was spent on refurbishing it for its present use. The initial idea was to use it to provide outreach services for probation clients. In the end, a holistic approach to community safety was taken: that is, if people are working and are well housed, fed, and educated, the crime rate tends to come down. The bus would provide a whole range of services to the community.

So Dave and I began our work. We spread the word that the bus was available to any statutory or voluntary agency, community group, or residents' association that wished to use it. To get the ball rolling, we arranged weekly sessions on board, with a Job Shop on Tuesdays and a Citizens' Advice Bureau (CAB) on Wednesdays. We also linked up with residents' groups to support their events, summer festivals, fun-days, Christmas fairs, and the like.

In our first months, we were viewed with suspicion. Were we spies for local government, or perhaps just a sneaky way to keep tabs on everyone? Either way, our potential clients stayed away in droves. However, we persevered, and slowly but surely the tide turned. People came on board when we were parked at community events, sometimes to tell us what a waste of taxpayers' money we were, but sometimes to speak to the CAB worker, or (less often, it must be said), to look for a job. They told their friends about us. Eventually, others came on board to talk about various community problems ranging from litter and anti-social behaviour on the streets to housing problems such as backed-up drains and drafty windows. We took the approach that, if we didn't know the answer, we'd know who did, and because we were equipped with cell phones, we could put people directly in touch with those who could help them.

A few weeks into the project, the local college began to hold weekly computer classes on board. They were so successful they were moved into a local community centre, where they continue today. Some of the people who came for computer training lacked the most basic skills, but they were tutored on board and at least two of them are now attending college full-time.

We discovered that the bus worked on many levels, some of them unforeseen when we started. It worked first and foremost for the community. With agencies like the CAB and the Job Centre on board, community members could take care of important business virtually on their own doorsteps. After almost three years of holding counselling sessions on board the bus, our CAB advisor helped clients recover thousands of pounds in unpaid benefits and claims. Of all the services we provided on board, the CAB was one of the most popular.

The bus soon became a magnet for children. Wherever we parked during school holidays, we were surrounded by eager children. In good weather, a few skipping ropes, badminton rackets, and soccer balls were all it took to keep them happily occupied for a few hours. If the weather was bad, crayons, paper, and a few board games kept them happy, warm, and dry. We discovered that the bus was an excellent vehicle (pun intended), for "mopping up" children who didn't take part in any other organized activities, and there were many such children in our area.

And then there were the unexpected benefits. The bus became a venue for informal meetings of a wider team of service providers — staff from the Health, Housing, Education, and Recreation departments who worked in the community. The seeds of many projects were sown over coffee aboard the Big Green Bus. What made this effective was its informality. We came up with ideas on the bus and we made them happen in a spirit of co-operation.

Anyone in the business of applying for funding knows the value of good publicity. The Big Green Bus became the flagship of a wider community regeneration program. We actively solicited the press, initially to counter the mistrust of local people, and then to raise the profile of the project. By our third year of operation, we had attracted national attention, and the Queen came aboard as part of a tour she made of the area. This past September, my manager, Steve Stockall, and I accepted a national award from Princess Anne for the Big Green Bus Project.

Why did it work so well? I believe there were a number of factors in our favour. We were lucky to have a management team that trusted us to get on with it. This meant that we were able to respond directly to the community, and so stay near its heart. It was a risky approach to take, because none of us knew what would happen, but this freedom we had to "change with the changes" is what gave the project its vitality.

It takes time and commitment to make something like this work. The estates in our area had deteriorated over the previous 30 years or so and we couldn't turn things around in an instant. A project like this means making a commitment to the long haul: we believed that if the community wanted the bus badly enough, it would find a way to sustain it after the money ran out. We believed in the project and in the end, so did the community. Though the bus is wearing out, there is already talk in the community of a "Son of Big Green Bus," and other sources of funding, both public and private, are being actively pursued.

The most important thing we learned is that, no matter how many top-level decision makers agree to work in partnership, it all means nothing if the people at the grassroots aren't working together. And that comes down to personalities. Qualifications count for nothing if personalities clash. And, did I mention tea? We had a small galley on the upper deck and everyone who came on board was offered a cup of tea. Small things can make a big difference.

Trust, commitment, the right mix of personalities, and a warm welcome: if you have those things, you can make something exceptional happen. Looking at a map of Nova Scotia, with its small communities strung like beads along the coast, I can almost see a little bus on the map, driving from village to village, perhaps with computers on board, small business advisors, government representatives, or even a library. After all, it's not about putting a bus on the road: it's about putting wheels under an idea.

If you'd like to find out more about the Big Green Bus, visit its website at www.biggreenbus.org.uk.

Congratulations!

Arthur Bull, Chair of the Coastal Communities Network and an outreach coordinator at the Bay of Fundy Resource Centre in Cornwallis, has become the first Canadian to receive the Gulf of Maine Council's Longard Volunteer Award. The award is given to recognize volunteer efforts and dedication to both environmental protection and the sustainability of natural resources within the marine, near-shore, or watershed environments of the Gulf of Maine. Arthur's fantastic efforts on behalf of CCN and many other organizations he has been involved with over the years deserve more recognition than any number of awards might symbolize. Here's to Arthur!!!

An Introduction to the Coastal Communities Network

The Coastal Communities Network (CCN) is made up of community economic development agencies, municipal leaders, church and community organizations, resource harvesters and processors, unions, universities, and other local community groups. Our primary concerns are the social and economic well-being and sustainability of coastal and rural communities. We emphasize communication, dialogue, and exchange, and we focus on the identification and development of specific strategies for local community organizations to address and respond to their concerns.

CCN was established in 1992 after a series of regional meetings looking into the devastating impact on Nova Scotia communities of the groundfish crisis. A series of "Fishing for a Future" meetings and, later, a historic provincial conference, brought former industry rivals together with municipal leaders, labour and community groups, and church representatives to create CCN. Over the years, CCN has maintained its focus on fisheries issues but has also become involved in many other matters � such as community economic development, forestry, farming, information technology, and rural and coastal infrastructure � that are important to the survival and development of sustainable small communities.

CCN actively helps coastal and rural communities across the province deal more effectively with the social and economic problems facing them. It holds monthly meetings where input from all members is encouraged. It has also organized workshops to help people in small communities effectively deal with issues facing them, and it presses government agencies to adopt policies that will benefit small communities.

The operations and activities of the Coastal Communities Network are based on the following principles and beliefs:

CCN's strength lies in its membership, which is rooted in Nova Scotia's coastal and rural communities. By sharing experience, providing moral support, and helping identify resources,

CCN helps organizations in small communities grapple with issues of sustainability and development.

CCN welcomes the participation of any organization that represents the interests of a coastal or rural community and is interested in networking with similar organizations across the province. We will welcome your input on matters of concern to your community.

Have your community organization join CCN. (See Membership Form on page 8 of this issue.) Representatives of member organizations are encouraged to participate in CCN's regular monthly meetings. These are held in Truro and allow members to review what is happening in coastal and rural communities across the province, plan actions on issues of common concern, and review the progress of CCN-sponsored projects. (Travel costs will be covered by CCN for one representative of all member organizations unable to do so themselves.) Minutes of these meetings are widely distributed among community groups, and they help us all become more aware of common concerns and common understandings, of local problems and local successes.

For more information about the Coastal Communities Network, see the contact information at bottom of the back cover of this issue.

Sex and Community Development

"Well, you know, the big issue is sex," said the girl in Gander. She held a responsible job in community economic development, and she was bright, charming and comely. I was surprised. The only sexual difficulty I could imagine for her was selecting from a swarm of eager suitors.

And indeed that was, more or less, her problem. In the outports whose fate was largely in her hands, there was only one acceptable young man, and she was living with him. But if they broke up, she said, what then? She wasn't about to become a sort of economic nun, sacrificing all prospects of companionship and family life on the altar of rural regeneration. To meet someone else, she would have to move to St. John's, Halifax, Toronto. And the wonderful work she was doing in her outport district would probably come to an end.

That was October 2000. Flash forward to October 2001, and a meeting here in Isle Madame about the future of our own development initiatives — which have been largely driven by young people. Malcolm Beaton, our local municipal Councillor, says that our population now "is 67 percent seniors."

I was shocked, but I believe him. A lot of the young people who were in D'Escousse when I arrived in 1971 are still here, but they aren't young any more. And their children, overwhelmingly, have left. Like most Canadians, they now live in cities. If that demographic situation doesn't change, this community – like many others, right across Canada – will slowly shrink and die. Young people are tomorrow's parents, volunteers, managers, care-givers, workers, customers, and taxpayers. They really live comfortably in the 21st century, in a world that sometimes seems very strange to their elders. They have never known a world without cell phones, computers, and satellites. They have the future in their nostrils.

Ironically, many of the urban information-economy jobs now being filled by migrants from our villages don't really need to be located in the cities. A business that operates everywhere can be located anywhere. A website, a mail-order business, a call centre, a software company – such businesses can thrive just as easily in D'Escousse as Detroit. More easily, perhaps – property is cheap, wages are reasonable, and security is hardly an issue.

But could they find trained employees in rural areas? In Isle Madame they could, because the local campus of the College d'Acadie frequently designs and delivers customized training. But not every rural district is so fortunate. It becomes a vicious circle – we can't create jobs in the villages because the employees aren't available, and the employees aren't available because the village youngsters have moved to the cities in search of training and employment.

And there's the issue of sex. As the young woman in Newfoundland notes, it isn't enough to have one or two or six young people in a community. The young and eligible won't stay in a place where the mating game resembles solitaire, and social discourse has mostly to do with comparing aches and pains. Here in Isle Madame, the development effort has been driven by a small cadre of wonderful, dedicated young people – but we still need many more.

Mind you, I would always encourage young people to seek out the exciting experience of exploring the wider world. I treasure my young-adult years in Berkeley, London, New York, and elsewhere. I still find human diversity endlessly fascinating. Give me an assignment tomorrow in a city I've never seen, and I'll be off like a shot. Young people should travel, experience other cultures, seek out opportunities they can't find in their home villages. But it should be possible to lure some of them back. Too often, though, the benefits of rural life seem to be largely negative. Village life is not expensive, not crowded, not anonymous, not dangerous. All very well – but what's the positive experience of rural life?

The unique opportunity a small community provides is the chance to shape your own environment, and to play a role in shaping the community itself. In the country, even on a modest income, you can have a spacious house, a separate studio or workshop, a horse, a boat, a huge vegetable garden. And you can create whatever you think your community lacks – anything from restaurants to recreation, from technology to employment and education. A handful of people couldn't possibly solve the sewage problem in Halifax. But they did it in Bear River.

In small communities, human relationships are close and intense. Every person counts, and there is always a need for energetic leadership. In a small place, a person of ability can be an influential player at 25. For some, fortunately, that's an offer too good to refuse. But we urgently need more. Somehow, we have to recruit our own children to come home.

Silver Donald Cameron is an award-winning writer living in D'Escousse, Cape Breton.

A Word of Thanks

The Coastal Communities Network (CCN) would like to thank the Nova Scotia Association of Regional Development Authorities (NSARDA) for its sponsorship of this issue of Coastal Communities News . By sponsoring this issue, NSARDA has shown, in a concrete way, its support for our coastal and rural communities.

CCN has provided space in this issue (see pages 2 and 3) for NSARDA to get word of its programs to coastal and rural Nova Scotians. Responsibility for editorial content, however, remains the sole responsibility of CCN.

Collectively formed in 1999, the Nova Scotia Association of Regional Development Authorities (NSARDA) works collaboratively to identify key provincial economic issues and coordinate regional development initiatives to create an overall environment conducive to economic growth and business support.

Consisting of 13 regional development authorities (RDAs) across the province, the NSARDA is governed by a community-based board of directors and funded by municipal, provincial and federal government departments.

The NSARDA's approach to regional economic leadership combines community economic development, community enterprise development, human resource development, and communications development.

The Nova Scotia RDA model is recognized as a leader in Canada. It boasts a unique three-level-of-government partnership that is closely tied to the community. In the future, the NSARDA will continue to work on the challenges that face them and will work with funding partners to improve their process.

Women, Martians, and Equality

I recently attended a Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO), consultation in Moncton about fisheries management in Atlantic Canada. I was there with Mary DesRoches, representing the Nova Scotia Women's FishNet. Our presentation covered issues in a DFO discussion document that would affect women in coastal communities and women employed in the fishery. After our presentation and many others, a representative of a New Brunswick draggers' association delivered a heated stream of negative comments. He ended with an outburst of anger that was apparently brought on by our presentation: "And then," he sputtered, while a woman's voice in our headphones politely attempted to simultaneously translate his frustration, "And then, there are some people who think that women – women! – should sit at the decision-making table. Well, if this is the case, we might as well invite the Martians to have a seat as well!"

Later in the discussion, we were talking about the economic and social viability of the fishery and how the term "stakeholders" should be defined. Mary and I both said that anyone who is directly or indirectly affected by the fishery, or who has a historical attachment to the fishery, should be involved in policy decisions. We added that this would obviously include women, who are key stakeholders in the sustainability of coastal communities and fishing families, and who have always participated in many aspects of the fishery. We were then told by a member of DFO's Policy Review Committee that he was now aware of our opinions, but that DFO was proposing something different in its discussion document.

At that point, I seriously considered leaving the room to take a quick drive down to the local costume shop for a "Martian" outfit. I would then return to ask the same question, as a Martian representing Martians, and suggesting that Martians are also stakeholders and so they should have a say in fisheries policy. After all, I'd tell the meeting, Martians could have a lot to gain if the fishery continues to be privatized and professionalized. In future, when inter-planetary travel becomes easier, Martians might well want to buy some boats and quota, enroll in some training and safety workshops, and head out to make some money. We might even give the Martians some seed money, if they promised to buy a lot of quota and hire a small percentage of local earthlings for a few months to show them the ropes.

Needless to say, I didn't leave and then return as a Martian. But I do think that within this consultation framework, a Martian might quite rightly have been given the same response Mary and I received: "Thank you for your opinion, but we are not proposing that Martians have a significant role at this point in time." Which leads me to the question: Are women and Martians, in fact, similar? I know that I don't think we are, and I know that most women, and many friends and families of women, don't think we are, but what about the general opinion, the status quo, the majority, the – "average Joe"? What about the average politician or bureaucrat?

This question only becomes really interesting when we consider what the answer's consequences are. I suppose that if women are like Martians, we might not need to be treated as humans or be given similar opportunities to men. This could save the government a lot of money. We, as a nation, could certainly save on Employment Insurance, training, salaries, health care, and education. We could simply ensure that every woman/Martian got paired off with a husband, and as long as he was well looked after, she/it wouldn't starve, and might even have a nice life. On the other hand, if women are humans, we might want jobs and training, and we would probably want to make some decisions about what's best for our families, our communities, and ourselves. We might even get together and brainstorm about how we could influence policies that were unfair to women and fishing families, or that were detrimental to community sustainability. Now and then, you might even see a woman presenting some of these ideas at a policy consultation.

But before I get too far ahead of myself, getting into details about how women in coastal communities are affected by fisheries policies, Employment Insurance regulations, or the accessibility of training programs – and before I outline any of the ideas or solutions that women have proposed to build community sustainability and social and economic development – we need to ensure that the framework exists for women to be acknowledged as full and equal participants and decision makers in our communities. What is frightfully depressing is that we don't yet seem to be in agreement about the basic fact that needs to be understood before we can go any further – the fact that women are not like Martians.

Perhaps, if we can all agree to this, we'll start to see the need for some changes. In Nova Scotia's coastal communities today, many women are not given the same opportunities as men. Many women are unfairly excluded from benefits such as Employment Insurance and training opportunities, and from participation in key policy decisions that affect our lives. Women's work, both paid and unpaid, must be recognized as contributing to the economic stability of our communities. Women's voices must be considered as relevant and important when we are exploring solutions to the many challenges our communities face.

Because it was at a DFO policy consultation that I was forced to question my identity as a human being, I will end by throwing the resulting questions back out for the consideration of our government representatives: Who are you representing? Are you representing equally both men's and women's concerns? What is guiding you to represent an industry as a closed circuit of "professionals" and corporations rather than as environments, communities, and the people really affected by the fisheries? Also, who are you willing to discuss these questions with, and how will you consider all the different points of view seriously? I hope we can answer some of these most basic questions soon, so we can start working together to discover solutions to some of the more interesting and meaningful challenges facing our coastal communities.

The Nova Scotia Women's FishNet was established in 1995 as a provincial network of women and women's groups concerned about the sustainability of coastal communities and the impact of recent changes in the fisheries on women, on their families, and on their communities. Ariella Pahlke is the Coordinator of the FishNet's "Strategies for Action Project," which is working to identify policy issues affecting women's economic stability and independence, and to advocate for change. To find out more about the Nova Scotia Women's FishNet or about the Strategies for Action Project, contact us at (902) 425-4525 or at 2099 Gottingen Street, Halifax, N.S., B3K 3B2.

Coastal Communities News is published bi-monthly by the Coastal Communities Network, a non-profit society registered in the province of Nova Scotia.

Coastal Communities News is made possible by the generous efforts of many volunteers, and by financial contributions from Human Resources Development Canada, and by donations and in-kind contributions from the Nova Scotia Department of Education and Culture, as well as from member groups and organizations.

We welcome all articles and submissions, from individuals and groups, with content in keeping with the role and nature of this magazine. We reserve the right to edit all submissions. Except where additional credit has been given, all articles are prepared by the Editor and Editorial Board.

Our Mission Statement

The Coastal Communities Network is a volunteer association of organizations whose mission is to provide a forum to encourage dialogue, share information, and create strategies and actions that promote the survival and development of Nova Scotia's coastal and rural communities.

"A Large Voice for Small Communities"

CCN is made up of organizations rooted in Nova Scotia's coastal and rural communities, and it is the diversity of its membership that gives it strength. Your organization, and your community, can help CCN determine its direction and strengthen its voice still further. Join the Coastal Communities Network today.

— by participating in regular monthly meetings of the CCN membership. These are held in Truro (usually on the first Tuesday of each month), and allow representatives from member organizations to review what is happening in coastal communities across the province, plan actions on issues of common concern, and review progress on CCN-sponsored projects;

— by getting on our mailing list to receive regular copies of Coastal Communities News. Send us your name and address by mail or fax, or call us directly;

— by contributing written articles to Coastal Communities News, and so letting everyone know what's happening in your community;

— by taking part in CCN workshops and information sessions. Special events like this are held on topics of importance to coastal communities (for example, community economic development, co- management in the fishery, etc);

— by inquiring about CCN's resource library, which includes information, reports, and studies on topics that affect the future and sustainability of coastal communities.

CCN Coordinator:
PO Box 1613
Pictou, N.S. B0K 1H0
Phone:(902)485-4754 Fax:(902)445-7134
e-mail:coastalnet@ns.sympatico.ca

CCN Communications Office:
Phone: (902) 445-7168
Fax: (902) 445-7134
e-mail:ccnews@ns.sympatico.ca

Tenacity, Experience, and Common Sense

Coffee, Culture, and Community Development

Of Open Ears and Sustainable Communities

A Place to Live, or A Place to Play?

Cons, Kids, Community, and a Magic Bus

Congratulations!

An Introduction to the Coastal Communities Network

Sex and Community Development

A Word of Thanks

Women, Martians, and Equality

Coastal Communities News

Join the Coastal Communities Network

Our Mission Statement

"A Large Voice for Small Communities"

How to Become Involved
in the Coastal Communities Network

Tenacity, Experience, and Common Sense

Coffee, Culture, and Community Development

Of Open Ears and Sustainable Communities

A Place to Live, or A Place to Play?

Cons, Kids, Community, and a Magic Bus

Congratulations!

An Introduction to the Coastal Communities Network

Sex and Community Development

A Word of Thanks

Women, Martians, and Equality

Coastal Communities News

Join the Coastal Communities Network

Our Mission Statement

"A Large Voice for Small Communities"

How to Become Involved in the Coastal Communities Network

How to Become Involved
in the Coastal Communities Network