The placement of children in the South affects both parents and children in Nunavik, we have observed The dutywho spoke with a mother and a young person from the DPJ, who are not related.
When she saw her two daughters leave Nunavik to settle with a host family in a town located more than 1,600 kilometers to the south, Marie felt “helpless”. It was several years ago. “Forever,” she says in front of her screen, wiping a tear that rolls down her chubby cheek.
Marie speaks under an assumed first name, to protect her identity in accordance with the Youth Protection Act. Since her daughters’ placement, she only sees them twice a year. Once in the South, once in the North. Short visits to the DPJ offices. “I can’t bring them to our house or to the family,” she laments.
Over the years, she sees her daughters losing their culture. They don’t speak Inuktitut. “My oldest tried it the other time, but it sounded like Chinese,” she says with a laugh. They no longer like the traditional dishes that she continues to bring them during visits. “My oldest asks me questions about her identity, she asks me why she speaks differently, why she doesn’t live with the other members of her family. She says she feels abandoned. »
Marie has not lost hope that her daughters will return to live in the North. Maybe not at home, because she hasn’t sorted out all her problems yet, but she has extended family members who would be willing to take them. An option which was not retained by the DPJ, according to her. “It’s their right to be able to return to the North,” says the mother, who cries for days at the end of each visit.
She finds it “unfair” that the DPJ sends children to the South, so far from their family and their traditions. She does not understand that this possibility exists. “They steal Inuit children,” she said, repeating a criticism heard many times in recent years.
Stranger at home
Sarah, who also tells her story under an assumed name to protect her identity, enjoyed her life with host families in southern Quebec. But the long-awaited return to his community was difficult. She felt like a stranger in her home. ” People [du village] didn’t recognize me, confides the young woman, who is now 20 years old. It made me nervous, they looked at me without knowing who I was. »
Fortunately, she said, she still spoke Inuktitut, which helped her a lot in rebuilding the connections. “It’s a good thing I didn’t lose my language, because from the beginning I stayed in touch with my family and spoke Inuktitut with them. My host mother didn’t want me to lose my language. »
As she approached her 18th birthday, after spending nearly 10 years away from home, she made the decision to move closer to her family. Although everything didn’t go exactly as she had hoped, coming home was still a “happy” time for her. Her parents welcomed her warmly. “They did their best,” she said, admitting, however, that she found it difficult to overcome the feeling of abandonment and that she sometimes had the impression that she was “better off” in her host family.
She has since reconnected with her childhood friends, and plans to return to an adult education program to complete her 5e secondary. “I’m ready for my future,” she says.