Sheila North - My Privilege, My Responsibility: A Memoir

MY PRIVILEGE,
MY RESPONSIBILITY

Sheila North

A MEMOIR

When I first moved to Brandon with my little kids, I was excited. I felt the same flutters in my stomach as I did when I first left Bunibonibee as a teen to live in Winnipeg. I was hopeful and I felt like I could do anything once I set myself up.

The staff at the shelter in Brandon were nice and they treated my kids and me well. But the place wasnt homey, it was very institutional and coldnot a place you wanted kids to be for a long period of time, or me as a woman fleeing an abusive relationship. One of the things the intake worker stressed with me was that I could only stay there for a month. After that, I had to leave no matter what. I took that as a challenge and began looking for places through listings in the paper. I made appointments to see places, with my kids in tow. We walked to almost every apartment we went to see. There werent that many places available for rent then. Not ones I could afford anyway. The ones I could, didnt seem safe for us.

The vacancy rate in the western Manitoba town was always low because it was a school town, many students taking all the affordable places. I didnt really realize what that meant until I tried to find a place myself. I swear I searched every day, sometimes almost all day. It became a mission, and I exhausted myself looking because I was keeping the month deadline in mind. As the month deadline approached, I was in a panic. I went to the intake worker and cried in her office. I felt like a failure. I dont know what I was hoping for from her, but to my surprise and relief she said, Its okay, you can stay a little longer.

Those words gave me such relief and I was able to sleep better that night. But I didnt give up on my search. For weeks we were essentially alone until the only person I knew in town, a friend of one of my sisters, tracked us down and came to visit us. She, Heather Hutton, became a really good friend and spent a lot of time with us, driving us to places we needed to go. I am still so grateful to her.

One day she offered to take us to see a place I found on North Hill. North Hill in Brandon is not far if you have a vehicle, but it seems like it is out of town when you dont. At least it did for me. The place I saw was a former motel. The suites were just one long room with a small kitchen, a bathroom, and very dark wood panel walls. The owner saw me and my small children and I knew she was about to say no, she couldnt rent it to us. Before she could, I begged her. Please, I said. I just need it for a month, thats it. Ill keep looking for another place, I added.

This is really no place for children, its really for single adults, the landlady said.

I told her my kids and I would be quiet.

Reluctantly, she said yes. I mustve sounded desperate. Maybe it was the stress of looking and not finding anything for what seemed like forever, but I cried. I felt so elated and relieved.

The apartment wasnt anything special. It was far from everything; we hardly saw anyone and it felt like we were sitting in a box. The windows seemed very high maybe because I only had a mattress on the ground to sit and sleep on. But we made it homey and we felt safe there, just the three of us. Heather was our only visitor and we loved it every time she stopped by. The memories and feelings I felt at that time are still so clear to me. Maybe it was because I was in a vulnerable state and I thrived on every bit of kindness that I came across. I was appreciative and I felt I could go far even with just a drop of hope.

Even in the struggle to get things we needed, there was kindness in the most unlikely places. But I didnt see it the first time I went to the foodbank to get bread. I still had money from my furniture sale in Bunibonibee, but I was scared to spend it because I knew I needed to keep it for a new place I was hoping to get. And to get furniture and other things wed need for the house. To make ends meet, I went to a local foodbank that the shelter told me about before I left there.

With my son in a snuggly and my daughter in her stroller, we lined up with others outside the small building to see what they had. As soon as the door opened, it was a free-for all. People in the line pushed each other and us to get the best stuff. I didnt know what to think, I was more surprised than anything, I guess. I had never been to a foodbank before, and I had never seen people rush to grab food like that. But I did get some bread and went back there one more time after that.

The second time I went was different; I still had my son in a snuggly and my daughter in a stroller. We stood around the corner, hidden a bit, waiting for the rush to end. I had decided to just wait until the rush was done before going inside. My strategy was to wait, grabbing what we could and leaving as fast as we could.

As I stood there, a woman sitting in a truck across the street at the Greyhound Bus depot stared at us. It got a little uncomfortable because she stared so long before she got out of the truck and walked straight towards us. With her husband behind her looking onward, she reached her hand out to me and asked, Are you waiting to get bread? I said, yes. I thought I was in trouble. Instead, she was trying to give me something in her hand. I looked and it was $20! She said, Here, go buy some. Oh my God, my mind was blown. She completely surprised me. I thanked her profusely and left quickly. I bought a few things and went home feeling amazing. She will never know how her $20 made me feel like a millionaire! The only way shed know that is if she ever felt someone show her kindness the way she showed us that day. And I suspect she did by her gesture.

This woman and Heather reminded me what it was like to be human. I was motivated to keep going, to keep trying to make my life better for the kids and me. Eventually, I started to venture out more into the little big town. I found myself at the Brandon Friendship Centre. They had a soup kitchen and I took my kids there as a treat. We met other people and the kids had a chance to play with other kids. It was there that one of the staff members told me about low-income housing available for Indigenous families. I immediately began the process of applying for one of the houses. To my surprise they had one for me because I was fleeing an abusive relationship. The waiting list they said was typically about six months to a year. But because I was leaving an abusive relationship, they got me into one within weeks of when I applied. The house was a gift, another kind gesture that made me hopeful for our future.

This split-level duplex on 6 th Street felt like a mansion. It was perfect. I still had some of the money I made from selling my furniture in Bunibonibee and I saved it to buy me and the kids beds, a table, and a couch. All used stuff, but new to me. I started to feel better, stronger, safe. We met our neighbours and became fast friends. The woman and her kids were in a similar situation to ours, fleeing an abusive relationship.

We were about six months in and enjoying our new place. Of course, thats what it felt like to me, my kids did seem happier, but I cant imagine what it mustve been like for them to not have other family around. We were safe and there was no one getting mad in the house the way their father used to. But I did feel sad for them because I was used to having many family members around as I grew up. Here it was just us and we didnt have much.

On my sons second birthday I bought one of those tiny circle cakes at Safeway and a hard plastic Barney squeeze toy. He loved Barney at the time. I set his little cake up with a candle and my daughter with me, we sang happy birthday. It was a great feeling to see them smiling, especially when I presented him with the small Barney toy. He grabbed it and kissed it. I can still see the picture I snapped with a disposable camera, in my head, a precious time. I took a lot of pictures of my kids, always have. So did my mom when we were kids. We still have many pictures from both those times, me as a kid and my kids as they grew up.