Are you happy at home? Or are you dreaming of moving? In the midst of a housing crisis, The duty has called for reader stories, which will be published over the summer. Some point out that quality of life is not just a question of housing. Neighborhood life can also contribute to the happiness of being at home.
When she moved to Beauport, on the outskirts of Quebec City, seven years ago, Marie-Claude Fontaine discovered a suburb like any other. Bungalows with a swimming pool. A hedge. Two cars in the driveway. Everyone does their own thing in their own little corner. Above all, she found it a shame that no children came knocking at the door to play with her four-year-old daughter.
“I would have liked the neighbors to know each other, to talk to each other, to help each other. I felt like an alien, attached to old-fashioned values,” says the mother of three children with a laugh.
She organized a public meeting to survey the neighborhood on the possibility of organizing a neighborhood life. Surprise: a hundred people showed up. It was in 2017. Without knowing it, Marie-Claude Fontaine had just given birth to a movement that is redefining the suburbs.
His dream has come true: the people of “lower Beauport”, that is to say south of the Félix-Leclerc highway, know each other, talk to each other and help each other.
And not for just any purpose. The goal is for people to live old, happy and healthy. Marie-Claude Fontaine’s project is inspired by the “blue zones”, a concept invented by the American journalist Dan Buettner. With the support of the National Geographiche and his team identified five regions of the world where residents enjoy a high quality of life into old age.
These energetic centenarians have a lot in common. They’re surrounded by supportive neighbors and friends, they’re physically active, and they eat healthy foods. A Netflix documentary profiles these Blue Zones, which stretch from the island of Okinawa in Japan to Nicoya in Costa Rica to Sardinia.
A crunchy neighborhood
We might have to add the lower part of Beauport to this select list of “blue” communities. In this suburb of Quebec City, it all started with a project called Croque ton quartier (CTQ for those in the know). On a strip of land that became vacant after a power line was dismantled, residents have grown a food forest. Locals come to stock up on fresh fruits and vegetables.
The neighbors then designed a temporary square equipped with chairs, swings and a fire pit, where people come to meet. The temporary square has become permanent.
Children took advantage of this opportunity to build an ice rink. They put together the file themselves, which they presented to the borough council. The project was initially rejected because it did not fit into any of the municipal structures. An insurance issue arose: if a child gets injured, who will pay? The ice rink was finally built. The children built it themselves. With a little help, of course.
Little by little, a series of citizen initiatives followed. Nearly 4,000 people from the lower Beauport are part of the Croque ton quartier group. All of these people are committed to making life better in the neighbourhood on a voluntary basis, even though the core of more active members numbers about a hundred residents.
“The world complains a lot about political actors. It’s easy to watch the news and get frustrated because things are going badly in the world. At some point, we have to start by changing things at the local level so that things get better,” says Marie-Claude Fontaine, who we met at the temporary space that has become permanent, in the heart of this suburb that has become friendly.
She is the only employee (at 20 hours per week) of this self-managed movement fueled by civic engagement. A private foundation and the City of Quebec have so far funded this initiative. The City has even made the lower Beauport a “laboratory district” to lead to a series of actions, including the creation of a car-sharing group and a green corridor near the Beauport River.
The pleasure of giving
Inspired by the emerging solidarity in the neighborhood, another mother, Marie de Bellefeuille, brought to life an idea that had been on her mind since a trip to Australia. In 2019, she founded a Buy Nothing group, where members post donations. Just donations. Without expecting anything in return. It’s not a bartering group.
“In Australia, the system is made so that mothers don’t work. Donations are practical when you don’t work. In five years there, I’ve hardly bought anything for my two children. Here either, by the way, since the group was founded,” she says.
“The first time I went to get a size 9-month snowsuit, I felt uncomfortable. I said to the mother who was making the donation: “How much do you want?” She didn’t want anything, since that’s the group’s mission,” adds Marie-Claude Fontaine.
The principle of donation reinforces solidarity. Members who respond to a donation ad must explain why they need the object. The context. And the group is accessible only to residents of lower Beauport. In this way, links are created between neighbours. This increases the likelihood that a little girl will come knocking on the door to play with her friend, explains Marie de Bellefeuille.
When a child comes knocking, chances are good that friends will go outside to play. They will put down their screens. They will move. Like the old people who live happily ever after in the “blue zones.”
For everyone
There is talk of forming a Croque ta sagesse group for seniors, Marie-Claude Fontaine emphasizes. She wants all generations to participate in the Croque ton quartier movement. It is not a matter of “young families.”
“Once you get white hair, it’s like you become invisible,” she laments. “Older people have things to teach us. I heard they’re considering leaving their phones at the entrance to their meetings. We should all take a leaf out of their book and ‘unplug’ from time to time.”
Marie-Claude Fontaine’s mother enthusiastically jumped on board with this movement. She had been living alone in an apartment in Sherbrooke since her husband died 14 years ago. Intrigued by her daughter’s enthusiasm, she decided to move to lower Beauport.
“She told me: ‘I’m alive again!’ She does social work, she grows mushrooms,” says the co-founder of CTQ.
People are encouraged to plant a vegetable garden in front of their house, not in the back yard. Croque ton quartier provides a bin, soil and two plants if gardeners agree to share their harvest with their neighbours. With the cost of living skyrocketing, residents who are struggling to make ends meet are helping themselves to the bins. They are also taking advantage of donations posted on the Buy Nothing group.
Revenge of the “angry”
In the same spirit, some sixty “biodiversity islands” have emerged in the neighborhood. CTQ provides native seeds and a bag of soil. A mini stream has appeared and is making frogs happy. Fireflies and pollinators have returned to the neighborhood.
Conferences, training on communication, on gardening, on tapping maple trees… Everything is free, given by volunteers who do it “without pressure of commitment and without guilt” if they refuse a mission.
The movement is gaining momentum. Other neighbourhoods in Quebec are launching their “Croque” and their Buy Nothing. Marie de Bellefeuille says that the area has already had a bad reputation. When her children are too annoying, her parents (who live in L’Ancienne-Lorette) tease them by calling them “the Beauport nerds”.
The “nervous” ones become role models. They plan to become a kind of living museum, where one-hour guided tours will tour local initiatives. “We don’t claim to change the world, but we have an impact on our environment,” says Marie-Claude Fontaine.
At the same time, a retired couple passes by on the brand new cycle path that runs through the neighbourhood. “Hello neighbours!” the man says with a smile.