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Yahoo
14 hours ago
- Business
- Yahoo
Buc-ee's flap: See why NC activists are speaking out against state's 1st Buc-ee's location
Despite the cult following travel center chain Buc-ee's has amassed across the country, not everyone is excited about the construction of North Carolina's first location. NC activist group 7 Directions of Service has spoken out against the new location with demonstrations, statements and a 40-page report published May 27, 2025, titled "Buc-ee's Burden: How Mega Gas Stations Hurt Community Health and Wealth." The nonprofit, which focuses on cultural and land reclamation and indigenous leadership, among other things, lists four major issues the organization takes with Buc-ee's on a webpage devoted to NC's Occaneechi Path: Environmental impact - The 7 Directions website states that emissions from the concentration of just 200 running vehicles can create harmful conditions for breathing. With 25,000 estimated daily visitors, 7 Directions warns that the new Buc-ee's travel center will result in an "air pollution hot-spot" in a location that is home to schools and low-income neighborhoods. Threats to a historical indigenous site - "The entirety of the great Occaneechi Trading Path ran from Virginia to Alabama, and a significant section of the path in Mebane, NC is threatened by Buc-ee's," the 7 Directions website states. Unethical workplace practices - 7 Directions cites a Texas court's 2017 ruling against Buc-ee's, in which repayment provisions in employment agreements were likened to "indentured servitude." The website also references employee ratings on job websites including Indeed and Glassdor, which rank the chain "lower than most major corporations, even worse than Amazon." Fossil fuels - "An economy tied to fossil fuels is unpredictable and makes us vulnerable to foreign supply chain disruptions and conflicts," 7 Directions stated in its report. "Renewable sources like solar and wind are more reliable and cheaper, and transitioning to them will help us avoid the worst of the climate crisis." More information on the subject, including the 40-page report, can be found on the 7 Directions website at The Mebane Buc-ee's opening is planned for late 2026 or early 2027. The NC Buc-ee's site is located at 1425 Trollingwood-Hawfields Road, Mebane, NC 27302, near the merger of Interstates 85 and 40. Southern Living reported that the new location will measure in at a sprawling 75,000 square feet, with 120 fueling stations and more than 600 parking spaces planned. Mebane is about 200 miles east of Asheville on I-40. According to Google Maps, it will take about three hours to drive to the new Buc-ee's. The Mebane Buc-ee's will be the state's first location. Currently, the chain has stores in Alabama, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Kentucky, Missouri, South Carolina, Tennessee and Texas. The Mebane Buc-ee's is one of a list of locations set to open across the country. USA TODAY Network reported that stores will open soon in the following locations: Goodyear, Arizona: June 2026 Benton, Arkansas: September 2026 Ocala, Florida: 2026 Brunswick, Georgia: July 2025 Monroe County, Georgia: Early 2026 Harrison County, Mississippi: 2025 Mebane, North Carolina: Late 2026 or early 2027 Huber Heights, Ohio: April 2026 Boerne, Texas: 2026 San Marcos, Texas: May 2026 Rockingham County, Virginia: 2025 Iris Seaton is the trending news reporter for the Asheville Citizen Times, part of the USA TODAY Network. Reach her at iseaton@ This article originally appeared on Asheville Citizen Times: When does the NC Buc-ee's open? Activists protest NC's first location
Mail & Guardian
2 days ago
- Politics
- Mail & Guardian
Mining of critical minerals tramples grazing and water rights in Zimbabwe
Lithium mines in Zimbabwe's communal areas deprive people of their land rights, grazing land and water. Photo: Madelene Cronjé The rise in demand for lithium to meet the production of batteries for electric cars and batteries for household solar use has come with a myriad problems. A number of lithium mines are located in Zimbabwe's communal areas. The Mandihongola mine in Gwanda, the Sandawana lithium mine in Mberengwa district and the Arcadia lithium mine in Goromonzi district are all located in communal areas. The president has the power to expropriate any land for extractive activities in terms of section 324 of the present Mines and Minerals Act. Applying this law to the present lithium deposits classified as critical minerals is rather complicated because the state has transferred exclusive rights to Chinese-owned companies to mine critical minerals. In some cases, the lithium rock in Gwanda district is also found in nearby settlements in communal areas such as Garanyemba. Five to eight generations of people have lived in these communal rural areas and their future is at risk. There is a high possibility that already scarce water and grazing will be under threat from the lithium mining activities. A number of indigenous rights holders are deprived of scarce grazing land to accommodate mining interests and there is zero or inadequate compensation for those who reside on this land. In a clash of interests, international human rights law comes into the picture despite there being no explicit meaning of the right to land in international law. Rural district councils do have the power to manage the use of land and powers seemingly overriding the traditional chiefs and headmen's powers over the land. It is unclear what role the Rural District Council plays in stopping any activities that might, in the long run, overstep the rights of indigenous people. The state, through its agencies such as the ministry of mines and the Environmental Management Agency has not been clear on the negative effects of lithium mining. Seeing that communities are not benefiting from anything save for the manual jobs whose salaries only meet the bare minimum of people's needs, it is important that grazing and water interests are clearly protected A balance needs to be struck between mining companies seeking rights to extract minerals and indigenous people on whose land the minerals are found. Communities such as those of Mandihongola are raising concerns regarding mining on their land. The Chinese mining company undertaking activities of lithium extraction and processing, which is reported to be about 1000 tonnes a day, is using the scarce water sources and emitting the lithium processing residue into the dam from which the cattle drink. In a community where livestock are a source of livelihood and wealth, no balance of interests has been taken into account. There are no official statements from the Environmental Management Agency that inspections of these lithium mines have been done to ensure communities' grazing and water rights are protected. Neither have there been official statements by the minister of environment, climate and tourism. The worrying silence on the relevant players in government is a deep concern as to whether the interests of the villagers are being taken into account. Perhaps only when disaster strikes will the relevant ministries and other state agencies take such concerns seriously. The nation is battling with land degradation and water pollution from mercury and cyanide caused by artisanal miners and bigger mining companies processing gold, which is polluting water sources. Some streams and rivers feed dams that supply water for use by urban councils. Legislation is in place for the penalties that mining companies face should they cause pollution to sources of water. For instance, section 57(1) of the Environmental Management Act imposes a fine of up to US$5000 or imprisonment not exceeding five years for any recklessness polluting water sources and damaging the environment. Rural communities do not have the capacity to stop mining companies from doing as they please Furthermore, there are no clear plans for the rehabilitation of lithium mines. We cannot afford to sit back and turn a blind eye to any mining activities on communal land where the rights and livelihoods of people are trampled on. Hoitsimolimo Mutlokwa is a post doctoral researcher at the Centre for Labour Law in the Faculty of Law at the University of the Free State.
The Guardian
12-06-2025
- Politics
- The Guardian
An Indigenous nation in Canada hails historic constitution: ‘We're now the architects of certainty for ourselves'
When outsiders arrived in the lands of the Heiltsuk people, they brought with them a rapacious appetite for the region's trees, fish and minerals. Settlers and the government soon followed, claiming ownership of the thick cedar forests, the fjords and the abundance of life. Heiltsuk elders were confused. 'If these are truly your lands,' they asked, 'where are your stories?' For the Heiltsuk, stories explain everything from the shape of a local mountain to the distinct red fur fringes on the sea wolves stalking shores. They tell of the flesh-eating monster baxbakwa'lanuxusiwe, whose entire body was covered with snapping mouths before it was destroyed by a shaman and became a cloud of mosquitoes. Passed down over generations, in ceremonies forbidden by Canada's government, the stories weave together the physical world, the supernatural and the liminal space that binds the two. Such stories are also the bedrock of the Heiltsuk's newly created constitution, a document recently ratified through ceremony that asserts the nation's long-held convictions that they are the original inhabitants and rightful stewards of the region's future. The declaration comes at a time when Canada's own sovereignty is under threat, and when the first peoples are increasingly using their political power to reclaim territories and customs from a colonial project that once sought to destroy them. Tucked inside the north-east tip of Campbell Island, the town of Bella Bella is the largest outpost for the Heiltsuk nation, a seafaring people 40,000 strong who once populated dozens of villages within the broader archipelago along British Columbia's central Pacific coast. They warred, traded and allied with surrounding nations, finding sustenance and wealth in the lands and waters of the rugged coastline. And over thousands of years, the Heiltsuk and their neighbours developed systems of governance that relied on hereditary chiefs to serve as political, cultural and environmental caretakers. But decades of hostile government policies – including the forcible removal of Indigenous children from their families, and a system of residential schools that attempted to kill off the culture of Indigenous peoples – upended such systems of governance. For decades until 1973, staff at the Bella Bella hospital forcibly sterilized Heiltsuk men and women, who were classified as wards of the state under federal law. 'We've had the foot on our throats … and it's been hard to make the leap across the hatred, discrimination and racism towards our people,' said λáλíyasila Frank Brown, a Heiltsuk hereditary chief. 'But the constitution marks that transition away.' After decades of consultation with legal experts and community members, the new Heiltsuk constitution enshrines a framework in which power and decision-making authority is shared by hereditary leadership, the elected chief and council, and the nation's women's council. It governs the relationship with the land and ocean, citizenship, language and culture. While it does not have the force of law in the eyes of the provincial or federal governments, the move marks an attempt to restore a system of coherent governance destroyed by colonial powers. What is Canada's Indian Act? Canada's Indian Act – first passed in 1876 and a version of which is still in effect today – is a controversial piece of legislation that governs the relationship between the federal government and Indigenous peoples. When first introduced, the law imposed strict control over the lives of Indigenous peoples. They were made to live on reserves and couldn't leave without permission from federal agents. Under the act, children were forcibly removed from their homes and forced to live in institutions that had the aim of stripping away their culture, language and identity. Until 1951, the Act barred Indigenous peoples from retaining legal counsel and those with 'Indian status' were seen as wards of the federal government, similar to minors. Even though Indigenous people fought for Canada during two world wars, it wasn't until 1960 that 'status Indians' were permitted to vote in federal elections. At times, the federal government stripped people of their 'Indian status' meaning they lost rights granted to them under treaties. The 1867 Indian Act – legislation that governs the country's relationship with Indigenous peoples – created elected band councils with the aim of stripping away authority from hereditary chiefs. 'People were confused,' said Q̓íx̌itasu Elroy White, who serves as both a hereditary chief and elected councillor. 'They weren't sure who held power and many felt the elected band members didn't have legitimacy. This new constitution changes that.' The Heiltsuk have long seen a clear distinction between the hereditary chiefs, who oversee cultural preservation through oral history, and the bureaucratic role of councillors. By enshrining the power of both elected members and hereditary chiefs, the nation has established a political system ready to weather internal fractures. Elsewhere in British Columbia, hereditary chiefs of the Wetʼsuwetʼen people broke with the elected council over a natural gas pipeline, prompting a feud which spawned intense protests and police raids. The Heiltsuk, aware that outsiders hope to one day log their forests or fish their waters, want a unified voice in any proposal. 'We're now the architects of certainty for ourselves and for other governments operating within our unceded territories,' said Brown, noting that like most nations in the province of British Columbia, the Heiltsuk never signed away their lands in treaties, nor did they surrender them in battle. It was women who kept Heiltsuk culture alive during sustained efforts by the federal government and the province to crush Indigenous identity. In 1885 Canada passed a law banning the potlatch, a ritualized ceremony that underpins the legal, political, economic and social networks binding the communities with neighbouring nations. A mandatory jail sentence was imposed on anyone breaking the law, which was only repealed in 1951. Frances Brown was nine years old when elders began teaching her the songs and stories of her people. 'At the time I didn't understand, but I know now they were grooming me to be a strong Heiltsuk woman. They were working to keep our songs and our stories alive through me.' Brown, now 66, serves on the W̓úm̓aqs du M̓ṇúyaqs – the women's council – that advises elected councillors and hereditary chiefs. 'We [women] have always been brought up to believe and know that we are the backbone of our community. We are the advisers to the chiefs,' she said. 'Through the constitution, they're formally returning our rightful place in our traditional governance system.' Brown, whose mother is one of the few remaining fluent speakers of the Híɫzaqv language, has also spent the last two decades fighting to ensure the language, woven into the constitution, is protected. 'Híɫzaqv connects us to our creation stories. It connects us to our land, our seas, our way of life and laws of our ancestors that were practiced prior to colonization,' said Brown. 'We never gave up on that as a people. And today, we're renewing and reclaiming our ancestral laws.' The constitution has been ratified at a time when Canada's own sovereignty has come under pressure. Donald Trump has brazenly threatened to annex the country, and separatists in the Prairie provinces – motivated by long-held grievances towards eastern political elites – have angered Indigenous groups by ignoring the treaties that give legitimacy to the region that now wants to secede. Against that backdrop, members of the Heiltsuk Nation have not sought recognition from any external governments, including the Crown. While other Indigenous nations were invited to the ratification feast in late May, Canada's provincial and federal governments were not. 'We know who our leadership is and what we stand for,' said Marilynn Slett, the community's elected chief. 'That's what led us to where we are today.' To the beat of the singers' drums, children performed dances, gifted to the Heiltsuk by the Haida nation, on the sandy floor of the Gvakva'aus Hailzaqv, or House of the Heiltsuk. The two nations, which renewed their alliance through a peace treaty potlatch in 2015, are both leading a push for greater sovereignty over their lands. In 1996, the Heiltsuk won a landmark supreme court case when the justices found the nation had a pre-existing right to harvest herring eggs commercially. And last year, after decades of negotiation, the province of British Columbia said more than half a million hectares of Crown land would be returned to the Haida nation. Canada's federal government followed suit earlier this year. Both cases marked the first time either level of government had willingly recognized an Indigenous nation's inherent right to the land they occupied before colonization. But the Heiltsuk's decision to develop and implement their own constitution has also resulted in friction with neighbouring nations. In a February letter, members of the Nuxalk, Kitasoo Xai'xais and Wuikinuxv nations said they 'strongly disagree[d]' with the territorial claims made in the Heiltsuk constitution and called on the Heiltsuk to correct the 'inaccurate and historically false' territorial claims. Slett said they had invited concerned nations to visit and discuss the issue using traditional protocols. For a younger, and often highly educated generation, the fight for a constitution reflects a broader shift in how they conceive of their community's identity and place within the Canadian project. 'The previous generation wanted to tear down colonial systems. We want to rebuild our own,' said Saul Brown, a 32-year-old lawyer and councillor. A key figure in the drafting of the constitution, Brown anticipates there will be challenges when Heiltsuk law runs counter to Crown law, but he said those fights were secondary to a broader aim of his people. 'It's not just this hatred or righteous anger at these historical and contemporary wrongs. It's the love for our own people. We're not turning our back from state recognition. We're just saying we don't need it. We need to recognize our law first.'
The Guardian
11-06-2025
- The Guardian
Tane's son still asks his grandmother: ‘How did my dad die?' She doesn't know what to say
Warning: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised that this article contains images and names of Indigenous Australians who have died. This story contains descriptions of self-harm and some readers might find it distressing. In a small rural cemetery in Armidale, a young boy sits by a grave, gazing up at a portrait embedded in the black marble headstone. The boy is quiet. He's taking in the face of the young man before him. Tane Chatfield, the inscription reads. A loving father. A beloved son. When the boy gets home, he asks his grandmother, Nioka Chatfield, a question. 'He doesn't say the word die – he calls it 'bombed',' Nioka says. 'So he says, 'Nan, how did my dad get bombed?'' Nioka doesn't know what to say. There's so much to tell. But her grandson is only 11. Tane, a proud Gamilaraay, Gumbaynggirr and Wakka Wakka man, died by hanging in Tamworth correctional centre in 2017. He had been on remand for two years, awaiting trial, and was innocent in the eyes of the law. When Tane entered custody he was clearly identifiable as a prisoner at risk. Yet he was provided no sustained psychological support or drug and alcohol treatment. He was also placed into a cell that had an obvious hanging point. A coroner later described that point as a 'lethal method immediately and obviously available' to Tane. It should not have been there. More than 30 years ago, like all state governments, New South Wales agreed to remove hanging points from its jails in response to the 1991 royal commission into Aboriginal deaths in custody. When asked by the coroner to explain the failure, a senior NSW corrections officer blamed the jail's 'heritage' listing, saying this restricted physical changes to the building. She claimed that the complex had been built in the 1700s – before European settlement of the area. Guardian Australia has spent months investigating hanging deaths like Tane's in every state and territory. The investigation has revealed a staggering death toll linked to inaction on known hanging points. Across 19 prisons, at least 57 hangings occurred using ligature points that were known to authorities but not removed. In one case the same point was used in 10 hanging deaths, despite repeated, early warnings that it be immediately removed. Guardian Australia has spent five months investigating the deadly toll of Australia's inaction to remove hanging points from its jails, a key recommendation of the 1991 royal commission into Aboriginal deaths in custody. The main finding – that 57 inmates died using known ligature points that had not been removed – was made possible by an exhaustive examination of coronial records relating to 248 hanging deaths spanning more than 20 years. Reporters combed through large volumes of coronial records looking for instances where a hanging point had been used repeatedly in the same jail. They counted any death that occurred after prison authorities were made aware of that particular hanging point. Warnings were made via a prior suicide or suicide attempt, advice from their own staff or recommendations from coroners and other independent bodies. Guardian Australia also logged how many of the 57 inmates were deemed at risk of self-harm or had attempted suicide before they were sent into cells with known hanging points. In adherence with best practice in reporting on this topic, Guardian Australia has avoided detailed descriptions of suicide. In some instances, so that the full ramifications of coronial recommendations can be understood, we have made the decision to identify types and locations of ligature points. We have done this only in instances where we feel the public interest in this information being available to readers is high. Official data shows the rate of Aboriginal hanging deaths is at a 17-year high. Seven Indigenous Australians hanged themselves in prison in 2023-24, according to the latest data available, a record not seen since 2000-01. It correlates with Australia's surging prisoner population. Indigenous Australians remain vastly overrepresented in prison populations and hundreds have died in custody – 101 of those by hanging – since the 1991 royal commission. Australia's longest serving Indigenous affairs minister, Robert Tickner, who presented the royal commission's report to federal parliament and helped secure agreement to its recommendations, is outraged. 'There can be no excuses for the failure to act,' he says. Sign up for Guardian Australia's breaking news email 'We must not as a nation take our focus off the core recommendation of the royal commission, which was reducing the numbers of Aboriginal people in the criminal justice system. 'I've just come from a parliamentary committee in NSW and they've asked me, have things changed in all those years? And, very sadly, in this space, no. The numbers are still truly shocking.' The coroner who investigated Tane's death, Harriet Grahame, said authorities had failed to tackle the 'grossly disproportionate incarceration of Indigenous people' in the three decades since the royal commission. Governments, she said, had also failed to address the underlying factors driving overrepresentation, including glaring disadvantages across economic, health, housing and education spheres. 'Tane's death must be understood in its context of real social injustice, ongoing dispossession and his lived experience of inter-generational trauma,' she said. The failures did not stop after Tane's death. In 2020 the NSW coroner told the state government to audit Tamworth prison for obvious hanging points and to have them removed. The audit was conducted in October 2020. The government reported back that it 'did not identify any obvious cell hanging points'. Guardian Australia can reveal that, within 12 months of that audit, the inspector of custodial services visited the prison and found multiple hanging points, including some that were said to have been removed. Though some were removed after Tane's death, the report said: 'The most significant concern, however, at the time of the inspection was the multiple hanging points we observed in the cells.' Nioka says: 'When they said to us that they were going to deal with the hanging points … You think, 'OK, so no other family's going to go through this.' 'It's like they just pick your hopes up and they just shatter you.' When the inspector conducted a follow-up visit in 2024, the ligature points had been removed. A spokesperson for Corrective Services NSW said the government was 'committed to reducing all preventable deaths in custody' and had already removed hanging points from 800 cells across the state. An additional 145 cells were expected to be completed by July 2025. The government had invested $16m in ligature point removal, the spokesperson said, which would 'continue the extensive work that has already been undertaken across several facilities' to remove unsafe furniture and infrastructure. Growing up, Tane's siblings called him 'golden child'. Family meant everything to him. He rarely left his mother's side. 'He was a type of person that would make sure everyone had a bed, everybody had a feed,' Nioka says. 'He'd take his shirt off his back and give it to anybody.' Tane had big plans for his life. An immensely talented footballer, he set his sights on going pro. He was being watched by scouts, Nioka says, and had made representative rugby league sides. His cousin, Bevan French, went on to play in the NRL. But, at the age of 15, Tane suffered a serious injury during a game of touch. 'It just sent him into a deep depression,' Nioka says. 'He stopped playing sports with his siblings and he just thought, 'If I can't do what I'm good at, what can I do?'' Sign up to Breaking News Australia Get the most important news as it breaks after newsletter promotion Tane's first stint in custody changed him. 'He come home, he said, 'Mum, it's like, all the boys in there treat you like a family,'' Nioka says. 'So he got that sense of having another family.' 'And he thought, 'Well, is this where I fit in now? Because I can't fit in anywhere with my other brothers that I had on the football field or the cricket field.'' Tane entered custody in 2015. He was held on remand from October that year until his death, and was moved to Tamworth prison in August 2017 so he could be closer to his Armidale trial. On 19 September, a day before he was discovered hanging in his cell, his family saw him in court. Nioka remembers he put two fists up in the air, as if he was going to fight. Then they were told to make an 'emergency' visit to see him in hospital. Nioka found her son in intensive care, naked except for a pair of hospital socks. 'I was really shocked and stunned the way that nobody told us that we were going to find him like that,' she says. 'And it just, it wasn't making sense.' Tane died two days later. His funeral was a sight to behold, Nioka says. 'That beautiful boy, he just made friends everywhere he went,' she says. 'The funeral director rang me two weeks after his funeral and said, 'Nioka, I just want to let you know that in the last 30 years Tane's had the biggest [funeral] … how can your son be 22 and over 3,000 people turn up?'' At the inquest into Tane's death, a senior NSW corrections officer offered up an explanation as to why it was so difficult to remove hanging points from the jail. 'Tamworth CC is a very old facility, heritage listed built in the 1700s [sic] and there are limitations to what you can do with changing infrastructure,' she said. The explanation did not impress. Grahame, the deputy state coroner, described it as 'unacceptable'. 'The limitation of lethal means is one of the most reliable methods of reducing suicide,' she said. 'Coroners have been recommending the removal of hanging points for many years. The issue must be taken seriously. 'Thirty years on from the [royal commission into Aboriginal deaths in custody] it is unacceptable to suggest it would be expensive or difficult to achieve the elimination of hanging points in a 'heritage listed' facility.' Nioka describes the coronial system as the 'monster's loophole'. It investigates serious failures in the corrections system, she says, but can do no more than make non-binding recommendations to address them. She wants an independent body set up to investigate Aboriginal deaths in custody, armed with greater powers to compel change. 'I believe the number would dramatically start lowering … because then someone has to be answerable.' In Western Australia, the family of Ricky-Lee Cound is experiencing similar loss and frustration. Their son, a Noongar man, died in 2022 aged just 22, while in custody at Hakea prison – a facility with a 'parlous' lack of ligature-minimised cells, according to the coroner. The family said: 'The fact that prison cells aren't properly ligature-minimised is a clear indication that the authorities are neglecting their responsibility to protect vulnerable individuals. 'This isn't just a statistic – it's our boy Ricky's life. And the truth is, nothing will bring him back. But we can't let this happen to others.' Dr Hannah McGlade, a Kurin Minang Noongar woman and law academic at Curtin University, describes the continuing deaths of Aboriginal people in custody as a 'severe human rights violation'. '[Removing hanging points is] a very straightforward matter and yet it simply hasn't happened and many lives, largely Indigenous, have been lost as a result,' she says. 'Aboriginal deaths in custody are a national and international shame and blight on Australia.' Megan Krakouer, the director of the National Suicide Prevention and Trauma Recovery Project, says governments have been guilty of 'wilful blindness' on issues including hanging points since the 1991 royal commission. 'That particular Royal Commission, that was really quite powerful,' she says. 'And it's been diminished in every single way because there's no political will.' The independent senator Lidia Thorpe, who is a Gunnai, Gunditjmara and Djab Wurrung woman, criticises the lack of action on hanging points by the major parties. 'I can't help [but] think that this is part of the ongoing erasure of my people, particularly because we are the most incarcerated,' she says. 'It is the ongoing sophistication of the genocide.' The WA Department of Justice said it had undertaken a comprehensive hanging point removal program since 2005. A spokesperson said priority had been given to 'facilities with the highest risk and need' and the state was also expanding services for those with complex mental health issues, including by building dedicated therapeutic accommodation and employing specialist mental health staff. Tane's son sometimes asks to hear his father's voice. Nioka plays him recordings of prison phone conversations, taking great care in what she lets him hear. She's in no doubt about the reasons behind the gross inaction on hanging points. '[Aboriginal prisoners] are marked as criminals,' she says. 'But they're still human beings, at the end of the day. 'They're somebody's son, they're somebody's daughter.' Indigenous Australians can call 13YARN on 13 92 76 for information and crisis support; or call Lifeline on 13 11 14. Other international helplines can be found at
CBC
31-05-2025
- General
- CBC
'Monumental day': Heiltsuk Nation ratification feast brings written constitution into force
The Heiltsuk Nation has ratified its written constitution through a celebratory feast in Bella Bella, B.C. Marilyn Slett, the nation's elected chief, called it a "monumental day" that comes after two decades of development and consultation. "It's hard to put into words how big it is. It's definitely a day of celebration and reflection on everything that brought us to the day," Slett said of Friday's feast. The Heiltsuk Nation approved the adoption of a written constitution for the First Nation on British Columbia's central coast in February. That followed six months of engagement with more than 2,000 Heiltsuk members in Bella Bella, Nanaimo and Vancouver. The nation said 67 per cent of the 725 people who voted on the referendum were in favour of the constitution. Frances Brown is a language keeper and member of the W̓úmaqs du M̓ṇúyaqs Council (Women's Council). "It's undoing oppression," she said in an interview with CBC Radio West host Sarah Penton. "We once practiced and governed our own people." The nation said in a news release that the constitution had been "upheld in ceremony" on Friday, with Indigenous and non-Indigenous delegations attending "to bear witness and help bring the constitution into force." The constitution will help provide clarity for its own members and those it chooses to do business with, Slett said, which will clear up questions around decision-making in Heiltsuk territory that have previously been left to the courts. Slett explained that the constitution will develop "core laws" for the nation, which will cover issues such as land management and language. The nation said in February that "questions of paramountcy" with respect to other sets of laws would need to be worked out. Slett said the adoption of a written constitution is an act of "reclaiming" the nation's role in its own governance. "It's a pathway for our community to move beyond the Indian Act and move forward and grow and reach our full capacity that our ancestors always dreamed of," Slett said in an interview ahead of the event. British Columbia's Indigenous Relations Minister Christine Boyle said in a statement that the province "recognizes the hard work the Heiltsuk Nation community has put into a constitutional ratification." The minister said the province will continue to work with the nation to make tangible steps toward reconciliation. "Our shared work has set a foundation for a good path forward and we look forward to continuing this work together," Boyle said. The ratification event was held at the nation's Big House in Bella Bella, which serves as a gathering place for cultural and ceremonial activities. The nation says in a post to its website that the structure was built with funding from the federal government as a "commitment to reconciliation." The nation will also be hosting a three-day celebration to mark its anniversary starting Saturday. Boyle's office confirmed she would attend. Slett said Boyle is scheduled to meet with leaders as well as partake in the celebrations, which she believes is important for reconciliation.
