Industry based towns are often reliant on male labour. In a city as young as Fort McMurray, much of the population is new or temporary, with few familial connections. In this particular frontier town, the boom has created a transient male population that sees little of the female contact known back home. Perhaps they forget how to interact with women; perhaps they become so desperate for female company that they refuse to see rejection where it would be stunningly obvious in other settings. Simply not having drinks thrown in one's face can be seen as enough encouragement for a man to call a woman's neighbour and try to track her down.

I'm sure there are other interpretations (a gender studies thesis would be well situated in oilsands country), but such were my impressions of the overwhelmingly male population of the nightspots encountered on my first venture into the local bar scene. The strip joint that my neighbours chose to begin with was much tamer than the club attached to it; it was really just a comfortable pub with pool tables that happened to have some women taking off their clothes and contriving "sexy" ways to distribute prizes. Being more of a pub fan, I would have preferred to stay in this place, but my neighbours wanted to move to the club. I tagged along, but soon became so tired of being groped by everyone trying to move about in the crowd that I took a cab home by myself. I asked the cabbie if there were any more mellow places to have a beer, and he said no, effectively confining my drinking to the back deck of my trailer. The air of frantic socialization was simply too much for me--another thesis project could be in order.

My neighbours in the trailer continue to fill me in on life in this transient town. One woman had planned on staying here long enough to make her fortune, but can't hack the guys; she longs for something more "civilized." The men drink beer and talk loudly about life back home, about things that happened at work, and offer advice on where to find decent pizza. They all treat me very nicely, and each has told me to come to them if somebody's bothering me. It's not quite a little sister role that I've achieved (I've heard too much analysis about various parts of my body for the relationship to be appropriately familial), but it's close, and feels safe enough. There are plenty of stories floating around in Edmonton about what can happen to a single girl in the oilsands, so any security is welcome.

National Aboriginal Day celebrations went off quite well at the Friendship Centre. The Northeastern Alberta Aboriginal Business Association was on hand to offer info on local entrepreneurial endeavors. Two traveling artists displayed their work, and I was able to purchase some nice little paintings. The federal government provided free postcards, one designed by a Canadian First Nations Artist, one Metis, and one Inuit.

The celebrations began by introducing the board members, and then two or three dancers performed. Smudging followed, and then a few hours during which videos were shown, or people just visited and ate bannock. Instead of running the videos, I got put on sno-cone duty. The Friendship Centre staff found a sno-cone machine in the back, so I helped to keep the children in a constant supply of sugar. My little booth was not completely enclosed, so I could watch people hanging out. A band came in to play before dinner, and a few of the elders got up with the younger people and jigged. A skit came next as people waited for dinner, and had the local NDP candidate play acting with a plastic bow and arrow, trying to find his woman and getting a lot of laughs (and votes...? We'll see next week.).

The crowd increased noticeably around dinner time, and supper was served and devoured quickly. Enough food had been made for the estimated 200 visitors, but sadly there was little left for all the hardworking volunteers--this does say something for the success of the event, though. Everyone seemed to have a good time and all got along; those who stayed past 9:00pm joined in a round dance to close off the festivities.

From inside my sno-cone stall, I didn't get much of a chance to talk to adults, and the children didn't seem too concerned about their health, so I didn't get much done by way of research. It was a great way, though, to watch people socialize and see part of a culture that I don't get to experience very often. My previous work in a group home had brought me into contact with some ceremonies, but any pow-wows or dances I attended had been spent chasing children who wanted nothing more than to never see me again. At the Friendship Centre I was able to watch the drummers, to watch how people treated elders, and to watch children play without being responsible for them. It certainly provided a different view of Fort McMurray social life than my evening at the clubs.