Mental Health

Matt Stewart

Reprinted from the Housing as a Human Right issue of Visions Journal, 2022, 17 (2), pp. 13-14

This summer BC was on fire. One evening we noticed water bombers flying over our house and a large new plume of smoke. We nervously checked Twitter and confirmed a new wildfire close to our home. We decided to pack “just in case,” but in less than an hour our worst nightmare was unfolding. We were ordered to evacuate. Later we learned that this beast of a fire had been travelling at 60 meters a minute that day. Not something to mess with.

It’s remarkable when you have just mere minutes to decide what’s worth taking and what is just stuff. We took the family photos, passports and great-grandma’s handwritten cookbook but couldn’t find our marriage license. That didn’t matter. We knew we loved each other. Our safety was what mattered most.

As the planes were flying closer and closer with each pass, we quickly ran through the house one last time, taking pictures for insurance purposes of everything we were leaving behind, and to ensure we didn’t forget anything. Exiting the house we saw crying kids in their PJs on their front lawns while parents frantically loaded up trailers. It felt like a scene from an apocalyptic movie. We noticed no activity at our elderly neighbours’ home, so we went over. Thankfully, they got ready quickly and made it out. Driving down the road I could see the flames in our rear-view mirror.

My husband and I each took a car, afraid of leaving one behind to burn. Despite the panic it took almost an hour to slowly wind down the mountain, as everyone was escaping via the only road in and out of our neighbourhood. We witnessed so many minor fender-benders. Tensions and emotions were so high. Nobody bothered to stop. Everyone’s focus was on leaving that mountain neighbourhood as quickly as we could, even if it was bumper-to-bumper traffic. I called my husband and we had a good cry. We reassured each other that we were going to be safe.

We drove down to Penticton to stay with family, and even though we were now 60 kilometers away, we could still see the smoke and red glare in the sky from our fire.

Talk about taking an emotional toll! Pandemic, cancer and now a wildfire. It would be so easy to go to a dark place mentally, just as I had when I had been told I had an incurable form of leukemia.

Instead of fixating on why this was happening or getting stuck in a cycle of negative thoughts, this time I decided to take action and look for ways I could help and make an impact. The fine folx at the nearby evacuation centre said one of the issues they faced was keeping firefighters hydrated. Working that hard for as long as they did with no opportunities to take a break was making an impact on their bodies.

We knew right then: this is how we could help. Staying hydrated and keeping electrolytes up is so important in the Okanagan. This was especially true this past summer, when temperatures crept into the high 40s. These brave women and men were risking their lives battling so many massive blazes, and now they were fighting to keep our homes safe. I wasn’t able to help on the front lines, but I knew that every person can help in some small way. Some of these heroes had driven in from as far away as Alberta, and we later learned that a team from Mexico had come in to provide relief as well.

So we put out a call for Gatorade and PowerBars on social media. Now was a time to use these platforms to rally folx to action.

And the community heard our plea! Many liked, commented on and shared our posts. People went out on shopping sprees and so many folx donated.

I went to many big box stores to buy what I could and was so happy to see that many of the local stores were quickly sold out of electrolyte power drinks and energy bars.

But while dropping off the Gatorade, we saw that there was currently no way to keep the beverages cold. I just couldn’t imagine these firefighters wearing all that gear in the extreme heat of this summer, trying to stay hydrated while drinking warm or hot beverages. When I would see them at the staging area after a shift, they were covered in black soot from head to toe—physically and mentally exhausted and laying on the grass. They deserved better!

So our mission shifted. Each day after that we organized shopping runs to bring as many bags of ice as possible up to the firehall and even donated a few coolers. The wonderful volunteers from the Salvation Army’s crisis response vehicle, which was on-site at the firehall, were dedicated to feeding these exceptional people who were busy saving our homes. Local restaurants donated meals. The manager at Save-on-Foods gave us discounts on ice and bananas. People were coming together as a community to take care of our heroes.

It was remarkable to see how the community rallied to ensure the firefighters were taken care of.

Now, I know that our role of buying Gatorade and ice was only a small gesture in the larger scheme of what was happening this past summer. The really amazing things were happening on the front lines. But with all the negativity that exists in the world right now, it would have been so easy for us to become negative too. I am not saying that it wasn’t difficult. In fact, it most surely was a difficult challenge, which unfolded alongside many difficult challenges, all happening at the same time. That said, having a purpose with impact, no matter how small, surely kept our mental health in check.

We are forever grateful for the opportunity to have assisted these brave people.