Drops of Change: “Tu Nezi” (Water is Good)
This post is part of a monthly series called “Drops of Change” by the North American Youth Parliament for Water (NAYPW), a chapter of the World Youth Parliament for Water (WYPW). For more information on the NAYPW, you can explore their website or contact NAYPW at outreachnaypw@gmail.com.
Words by: Ashley Menicoche, Łíídlįį Kų́ę̨́ Edéhzhíe Community Coordinator, Dehcho First Nations
Written by: Ramona Pearson, Communications Officer, Dehcho First Nations
In the Dene language, water is “tu”; tu comes first, because water is life. I’m 33 years old and I have two teenagers that I am trying to teach about water. I teach them through my work with Edéhzhíe, the Dehcho Protected Area within Canada, because this is where our family comes from – we are Edéhzhíe descendants. My method is simple: I take them out on the land, and I show them how to survive there, the same way my grandmother did with my mother. Sometimes, it is not good enough to tell; a mother must also show.
Map showing the Edéhzhíe Dehcho Protected Area and National Wildlife Area. Source: Environment and Climate Change Canada, Government of Canada
Water is precious. A lot of people don’t have to learn how precious water is until they must do without. When I was younger, I understood the importance of water scarcity—I could not afford to waste a single drop. One summer, my son came home from a camp where he met a water scientist who asked him to speak with me about water. The scientist asked him, “What does water mean to you?” His answer was, “It lets my mom make me juice.” I laugh now when I think about it; when I was a little girl in foster care, I was sent to bed without supper and without water. I remember my bed was above a hot vent—that night, the air was so dry, my throat stuck to itself. I was too scared to get out of bed and ask for water, fearing that the punishment for doing so would be worse. So, I snuck into the bathroom instead of the kitchen, and drank sneakily from the bathroom tap. And wouldn’t you know, water is water, no matter where it comes from; I drank heartily, feeling the cool wash fill my belly, and felt grateful. When it comes time for my son to haul his water 1 ½ kilometers uphill from the steep banks of the river, or back up the Edéhzhíe plateau in two 5-gallon pails, he will understand just how valuable drinking water is. Until then, I make sure he has access to clean drinking water. Water is available in such abundance to him that he wishes it tasted like anything else! That is a sign that I am doing well as a mother.
In the Dene world view, water is many things; most of all, water is good. Water is the land, and it is a part of us. The Dene have been stewards of the lands, waters, and animals of the Dehcho region, in what is now Canada, since time immemorial. To keep this tradition, the Dehcho First Nations established Edéhzhíe, our Dehcho protected area, north of Łíídlįį Kų́ę̨́ (Fort Simpson), Tthets’éhk’edélı̨ (Jean Marie River), Deh Gáh Got’ıę (Fort Providence), and Pehdzeh Kı (Wrigley). It is my job to organize activities that promote and sustain Dene Ahthít’e on Edéhzhíe. Dene Ahthít’e is an expression of our connection with the land. Dene Ahthít’e means “we are the people'' in Dene Zhatie (the Dene language). In the Dene worldview, we cannot be who we are without our connection to the land. Without the water, we do not have watersheds, wetlands, or habitats for our animals and birds. Without a healthy water cycle, we do not have a healthy home. Dene Ahthít’e protects the water, and allows us to be who we are in a safe environment.
The author, Ashley, at Willowlake. The Horn Plateau, a prominent landform in Edéhzhíe, contains the lake’s source waters.
As climate change affects our water table, it affects our lifestyles. When we lose water, we as Dene evaporate, too. We hear about the permafrost melting, which leads to slumping landscapes, drunken trees—the result of permafrost thaw, causing trees to slant when the ice underneath their foundation melts— and increased wetlands across the Dehcho territory. For me, this is bittersweet news. The worst thing I could think of as an effect of climate change is dry weather because a drying land leads to forest fires. Many men in my life are retired firefighters. When my son must protect his cabin and community from fire, he will see how valuable utilizing water is. When lakes dry up, we lose access to fish, waterfowl, frogs, and beavers. Moose don’t like grasslands either, they love to swim, and eat pond greens that spring from lakes. There are some conditions we adapt better to—more water is such a condition. Less water is not good for our health, or the health of the bush. I remember one year in December, our ice road—a waterway which becomes a road for transportation when they freeze—slumped, and we wondered if our ice road was in danger. That year, things were uncertain. Uncertain water is a major safety issue.
I teach my kids that we can have a good relationship with water, or we can have a stormy one. Water is dangerous – I’ve lost a lot of people to water. In the past, the lakes of Edéhzhíe sustained families through hard times when food was scarce; but access to Edéhzhíe changes too when the weather is unpredictable. When the water is frozen, it is how the land makes itself accessible to us; but I have lost my grandmother to weak ice. Because I know how to tailor my behavior to the changing climate during inclement winters, my children will not have to experience that loss. I will be safe on water and teach them to be safe, too.
The author, Ashley, at her place of work.
Through my work with Edéhzhíe, I can recognize the effects of climate change on water. I can see the effects of climate change everywhere—all I had to do was learn how climate change affects water resources. When I learn about climate change’s impact on the land, I begin to think about how to mitigate or adapt to them. What I have learned in the last year has been mind blowing. Water is good, and protecting it, studying it, is good work. This work is sustainable, teachable, valuable, and I am proud to be a part of the Edéhzhíe stewardship team because stewardship is a part of my Dene Ahthít’e. It is my hope that more work about lands and resources can be taught in everyday settings, so that Dene Ahthít’e can be known and practiced by everyone.
When I teach my children about the importance of water, they will not be the only ones to benefit. My children will share their knowledge with their friends and explore their relationship to water through their connection with the land. One day, my son will say, “Water is dangerous, but beautiful; and my mom taught me not to take water, in all its beauty and uncertainty, for granted.” I hope that you take this message with you too—water is “tu” and it is too important to ignore.