'I can’t imagine a Newfoundland without a rural Newfoundland’
Ashley Sheppard
Kicker
Preserving a culture that is rich in rural settlements and ingrained in generations of people from coastal communities is an integral part of keeping Newfoundland and Labrador alive.
An air of uncertainty, however, surrounds many of these communities as outmigration and an aging population continue to be growing concerns.
As much as small towns are often romanticized for their modest ways, the charm is hardly enough to make young people stay. Among many things, better access to education, a more diverse job market and widened social opportunities entice young people to migrate to urban centres to begin their adult lives.
Like many small-town residents, Harry Sheppard decided to uproot many years ago to pursue a well-paying job. He spent his entire working life in Labrador City and moved back to Stag Harbour, Fogo Island, to spend the rest of his days living comfortably by the water - carving memories in birchwood and aspen.
Most of his woodworking art is inspired by the heritage he says is vital to hold on to. He is most proud of his carving of a skipper, a captain of a small fishing vessel.
Moving house
Sheppard is no stranger to resettlement. Originally from Indian Island, his family was one of the few that floated their homes across the water to Stag Harbour, a now-amalgamated community on Fogo Island. He was 10 at the time.
Indian Island was a remote fishing village and was one of the few small settlements from which families were forced to relocate to Fogo Island by the government of Premier Joey Smallwood in the 1960s.
As a push for modernization, Smallwood put a resettlement program in place to encourage Newfoundlanders to relocate to designated “growth centers” as opposed to continuing their lives in communities where the economy was thought to not be viable.
Sheppard had finished school and saved up enough money to move to Labrador and secure a job in the mining industry. He knew he didn’t want to be a fisherman like many men were.
Sheppard says it was common for parents to steer their children away from the fishing industry because of the extreme working conditions. They encouraged them to get an education and pursue work elsewhere.
Sheppard says he never thought he would end up retiring and spending the rest of his days back in Stag Harbour, where he grew up.
“I must say, the people treated me like I never left.”
Fogo Island is one of many rural towns projected to shrink 30 per cent by 2036, according to research conducted by the Harris Centre's Population Project.
Keith Storey, who heads the project, says that if the trends in birth rates, death rates and out-migration continue, the province can expect some smaller communities to disappear completely.
“I anticipate that we will see more smaller communities closing,” said Storey.
“People will move away. They will request the provincial government to give them assistance to relocate.”
Storey says some of the province’s outports are already experiencing a naturally occurring resettlement. Young people are leaving for education and work, parents are leaving to be closer to their kids, and families are having fewer babies than ever before. Some parents also are choosing to leave their rural communities to raise their children in a more urbanized environment with better access to education, health care and social opportunities.
“We anticipate in our current situation that most of them will come to the Avalon - the northeast Avalon in particular,” said Storey.
Major changes need to be made, says Sheppard, in order to make young people want to stay. He says he’s prepared to help make those changes too if it means his community gets a second chance.
“In 2019 everyone should be able to drink the water coming out of their taps,” said Sheppard. “Everybody should have water and sewer, and the roads should be in decent shape.”
Kitchen parties, mummering and telling stories
Folklorist Dale Jarvis says adaptations in culture are expected within communities over time, and the history of the province that has shaped its identity transcends eras. The province’s culture is in constant shift the more it evolves.
But what the province primarily recognizes as its proud heritage has been fashioned by former fishing communities, says Jarvis. Because those communities are lacking young people, it’s hard to tell if the province is capable of keeping its traditions alive.
“I think as people move away, and especially as there’s a demographic shift as our communities get older - there is a danger that a lot of traditions aren’t passed down,” said Jarvis. “When our communities change and generations are kind of removed from that equation, it becomes harder to transfer that knowledge.”
The importance of safeguarding the identity of the province is a matter that weighs heavy on the hearts of many Newfoundlanders and Labradorians.
Sheppard says he uses his art to preserve it.
“It’s culture that brought me to make the carvings,” said Sheppard. “I made the carving of somebody with a pail, somebody with a stick on their back, a fisherman and a woman with a pail. Some people say, ‘Why would you make something like that?’ But that’s just the way it was back then.”
Jarvis says the province has seen an unexpected revival in traditions such as rug-hooking, mummering and kitchen parties. He says, in a way, the province is making its heritage marketable.
“I think there’s a great opportunity for developing businesses around tradition,” said Jarvis. “Traditional knowledge, traditional craft, traditional cuisine. We see that happening now.”
Staying afloat
The fewer working people there are, the fewer tax dollars there will be to support the facilities that sustain communities and allow them to succeed, says Storey. Health clinics, educational facilities and churches are just a few of the amenities that contribute to the overall welfare of a region. This system cannot be maintained without people or money.
“If people leave small communities, then the infrastructure and services is inappropriate for those areas,” said Storey. “Schools are closing. Businesses are closing because they don’t have the customer base.”
“The base is being eroded,” said Storey. “There is not a lot of obvious economic opportunities to keep people in particularly rural communities.”
A primary concern is unreliable access to adequate healthcare, Storey says. Some communities rely on independent nurses, small clinics or hospitals in the closest urban centre to get the treatment they need. For many, that is too big of a risk.
While Fogo Island has a hospital, Sheppard says there are other important facilities and services that need work to curb the out-migration of youth and keep the tax base big enough to sustain its communities. Among them are safer playgrounds, proper drinking water and better town cleanup efforts, he added.
“I don’t agree with the big centres getting it all; I don’t agree with the small centres getting it all,” said Sheppard.
Overcast with a chance of sun
The potential for the demise of a small town is a long-standing reality for those with rural roots. The number of people leaving outport communities for urban centres far outnumber those moving in, and it’s been that way almost every year since Confederation.
When Joey Smallwood became premier, his platform was to diversify, industrialize and modernize the province. The resettlement program he put in place shifted the population density from small fishing communities inward to regions with more potential for economic diversity. It was during this time that rural Newfoundland and Labrador experienced a steep decline in population.
The cod fishery collapse in 1992 that devastated the province was cause for a staggering and unprecedented decline in population. Small towns were left deprived of the industry that supported them for 500 years and the 30,000 people left unemployed were challenged to find work in an economy built around the fishery.
Between 1991 and 2001, the population of rural Newfoundland and Labrador suffered a population loss of 18 per cent. The urban areas, in contrast, had lost three per cent. The Cod Moratorium was not only a driving factor in population loss but also in part to blame for the beginning of the province’s notoriously high unemployment rate that is now at 11.4 per cent - the highest in the country.
In many ways, the province's history has not only shaped its unique identity but has also shaped its current economic state. While many displaced workers in rural communities have found employment in tourism and small business, nothing yet has been able to curb the flow of people to urban centres with even bigger industries such as technology and oil and gas.
Though the future of rural Newfoundland and Labrador is looking bleak, Storey says there is still hope.
“Newfoundlanders and Labradorians are nothing if not inventive.”