A few cedars, a large crabapple tree, that’s all that remains of Louise David’s visit to 2, rue René, in Gatineau. Gone is the corner of flowery paradise that she had created in her backyard. Demolished, its pretty white house decorated with a black door. Razed like almost all the houses on his street and dozens of others in Pointe-Gatineau, one of the oldest sectors of the main city of Outaouais.
“It was the climate that chased me from my neighborhood. I wanted to live there until I moved to a home for seniors. At 73, it’s hard to start all over again,” says M with a sigh.me David, who today considers herself a climate refugee.
When the gray waters of the Gatineau River engulfed the area in the spring of 2017, nothing like it had been seen since the mid-1970s.
“We all said to ourselves that once every 40 years, we could live with it, clean it up, start again. But two years later, it was even worse! »
In 2019, Mme David had to leave his house for around sixty days, three times longer than in 2017.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Louise David in front of the land where her pretty house once stood, behind which she had created a magnificent garden, rue René, in Pointe-Gatineau.
You are devastated, a refugee. Every two days, you have to report to the Red Cross. Three times, I had to go and sleep in a deck chair at my mother’s house because there was no room.
Louise David, 73 years old
For the second time in two years, she had to have everything in her basement ripped out and decontaminated.
“Have you ever touched a wall that has spent 62 days in river water? It’s gooey and smells like fish! Yuck! »
PHOTO PROVIDED BY LOUISE DAVID
Louise David’s house at 2, rue René, in Pointe-Gatineau
Former “well-organized” project manager, Mme David nevertheless found the compensation process managed by Quebec “damn stressful”.
“No one in government takes responsibility!” They don’t decide anything and ask everyone if it’s correct,” fumes this dynamic retiree.
Vacant land
The pandemic has somewhat made us forget the trauma of the floods of 2017 and 2019 in southern Quebec. In Pointe-Gatineau, however, it is impossible to forget.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Land on Saint-Louis Street, ceded to the City, and which neighborhood residents have undertaken to transform into a park.
In the sectors of Gatineau targeted by the compensation programs of the Quebec Ministry of Public Security (MSP), approximately 200 properties have been erased from the landscape since 2017 – half of which are in the Pointe-Gatineau district. The land, ceded to the City, remains vacant, exposed to the freezing January wind.
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Philippe Gagnon, however, is determined to stay on rue Jacques-Cartier, from where he has a breathtaking view of the river. He rebuilt his house, put a membrane on its foundation and installed pumps. When the neighborhood flooded again last spring, the system held up.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
One of the many lands in Pointe-Gatineau ceded to the City due to repeated flooding
As for the vacant land behind his property, he “decided to take advantage of the situation a little.” He plants trees there, gardens and plays soccer and Frisbee with his two sons.
He is also involved in residents’ associations, which have projects to revalorize lots ceded to the municipality. The City has also adopted an ambitious action plan which runs until 2027. “But it’s not going quickly. Let’s say that the procedures are long and the conditions numerous. »
PHOTO ÉTIENNE RANGER, LE DROIGHT ARCHIVES
Philippe Gagnon had to increase the number of complaints to manage to clean up the grounds of this former convenience store which, in 2022, had transformed into an illegal dump in his neighborhood of Pointe-Gatineau.
From the back of his house, he has a breathtaking view of… the ruins of a former convenience store. When the site became a wild dump, he had to increase calls to the City. The land has been cleaned, but its fence was recently removed. “It’s like an invitation to resume dumping,” he said, concerned.
“After”
“People think that it’s the floods that cause the most stress, but it’s the aftermath,” underlines researcher Ariane Hamel. As part of her master’s degree in social work at the Université du Québec en Outaouais (UQO), she interviewed around ten residents and former residents of Pointe-Gatineau.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Ariane Hamel, social work researcher at the University of Quebec en Outaouais (UQO)
She heard them talk about post-traumatic stress, health problems and financial difficulties, but also about adaptation, solidarity and attachment to the neighborhood. One constant, however, stands out: “Everyone told me that people would be needed to help fill out the paperwork. »
In this old neighborhood where socio-economically disadvantaged and elderly populations live, he was told about “people who don’t have computers, or the internet, or a level of literacy high enough to understand the language used in the official documents” and who “do not benefit from the programs because it is too complicated (see box)”.
“It’s a human drama behind every door,” says Myriam Nadeau, who was a Pointe-Gatineau municipal councilor from 2013 to 2021.
“In 2017, people really wanted to save their homes, not have to demolish them. And in 2019, it was: “How do you help me leave?” or “What they’re offering us doesn’t make any sense, I can’t leave at that price!” »
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Myriam Nadeau, former municipal councilor for the Pointe-Gatineau district and still a resident of the neighborhood, where she continues to be involved.
At the time of the 2017 flood, her second daughter was less than 2 years old. “I put in endless hours, I felt guilty when I rested, it was extremely trying. » She understood that an elected official must save energy for “the real difficult job” where he can make a difference, namely “supporting people, the burden of follow-ups, the questions”.
She did not run again in 2021, but still lives in Pointe-Gatineau, where she is involved in a residents’ association.
“No one can run for office thinking that they will not have to deal with a climate issue,” she warns. “You can just say, ‘When is this going to happen to me?’ And if it’s not me, it’s in my city or in my province. It is clear that this will have repercussions on the work of all elected officials at one time or another. »
The Outaouais laboratory
“Once the water is gone, the people stay. In Quebec, we have not developed much expertise on how to support people in their recovery,” points out Nathalie St-Amour, professor in the social work department at UQO and principal researcher at the InterSectoral Flood Network of Quebec (RIISQ). ).
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The Gatineau River near the Quai des artistes, in Pointe-Gatineau
Interested in “environmental injustices”, she is conducting research on the differences in recovery between a socio-economically disadvantaged neighborhood (like Pointe-Gatineau, on which her student Ariane Hamel is working) and a more advantaged sector.
It is also developing a pilot project to make Outaouais the first hub, or regional branch, of the RIISQ. “The goal is for research to be strongly integrated according to the needs of stakeholders in the field,” including cities and the health network.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Another of the many lands in Pointe-Gatineau ceded to the City
With its recurring floods and its “gruyere cheese” neighborhoods, the Outaouais has become fertile ground for documenting the impacts on residents.
Mme St-Amour gives the example of a research participant who, having been flooded repeatedly, only puts outdoor furniture in her living room. “Is it a resilience and coping strategy, or a way to control anxiety? », Raises the researcher.
Read tomorrow: When the forest threatens to burn your city